Spare Change and Paradigms

Tuesday October 6th, 2009

2009-10-06T03:16:00.004-05:00

Four years and seven months after I began here at Blogger, I'm transitioning to Wordpress. Done importing this morning.

See my new web log @ http://sparechangeandparadigms.wordpress.com. I may be truly ready to say leave Blogger completely one day. . .

. . .but in the meantime, take care everybody!

MJC

Sunday October 4, 2009

2009-10-04T22:16:00.000-05:00

New Podcast: Blast from the past.

Dateline: Wednesday April 30, 2008, 4:30pm - 5pm

MikeyC explains what he's been doing for 24 years. Enjoy a rambling explanation of the business of trading commodities and a life lived at Chicago's Grain Exchange (CBOT).

Enjoy!

I found this Saturday morning October 3rd, 2009 on a little RCA digital voice recorder I had sitting under some CD cases and such on my computer desk.

As you listen, you can hear me washing dishes, making coffee and explaining - in simple, layperson's verbage - what it is that takes place at commodity exchanges.

I listened to this whole thing and still can't believe some of the things I said in this podcast.

At any rate, check the podcast Titled #80, April 30, 2008 below.

Have a great week all

MJC

Tuesday September 29, 2009 (deux)

2009-09-29T10:09:00.003-05:00

More research concerning the Hungarian Revolution of 1956:

The Charlie Rose Show interview with Kati Martin from October 23, 2006.

An author tells her family's stories on the 50th anniversary of the Hungarian Revolution from 2006.

Enjoy!

Tuesday September 29, 2009

2009-09-29T01:42:00.006-05:00

In Memorium V

More memories Mom and Dad's flight to freedom.

From an audio taped recording used with permission of a conversation from last Tuesday morning, September 22, 2009, in Mom's own words at her home near Rockford, Illinois.
-----------------------------------

In my humble opinion the entire country of Hungary was dedicated to the Virgin. And Hungarians are very deeply religious. And under communism you could not practice your religion, because then you are not a communist. I'm only talking about the people who believe in Jesus Christ. The Jewish people think He was a great prophet but He was not the Son of God; just a prophet. But anyone who has any kind of new religion since the birth of Christ, they are. . . (part of the faith who believe Christ was the Son of God).

Our first king did it. (Saint Stephen) got the crown from the Pope in Rome. It was what? A thousand years ago. In receiving the crown, he was baptized as a Christian. The Prelate from Rome came to Budapest and baptized St. Stephen. (Saint Stephen) dedicated his country - to the Virgin Mary - so that he would be a true, honest, compassionate king to the nation. And therefore a lot of people became Christians, that is, Roman Catholic. Under communism there are no Christians, Evangelicals, Reformed Christians or any religions including Judaism because there is no God. The Jews were persecuted not during these times so much so as in the 1940's, later.

Q: What was it after the Nazi's left that made communism even worse? Was it simply and only because a person could not practice faith?

There was tremendous poverty throughout the country and the people wished for a better life which is only natural; self explanatory and universal human characteristic of our species.

Why we came out, however, I have told you many times. Not specifically because of religion but because your father had disagreements with his boss who was well known and well connected politically, under communism, in your father's town. After the disagreement turned physical, your father's boss warned him, 'You'll pay for this. And after these 'gangs' revolts gets squashed, you'll go to Russia and cut trees in the forest all day long. You'll see.' You father never told me the precise reason they quarreled, but not long after that your father decided to escape rather than get sent to Siberia or some other such place in Russia.

That was our reason.

But everyone had a different reason for leaving Hungary at that time. There were men who couldn't stand their wives, so it gave them an excuse and was good a time as any to leave and leave the country. Or wives did this to husbands. But among all these reasons, a very deep-rooted feeling held by many at that time was that you couldn't practice or even speak of your faith freely, your children couldn't go to religious instruction freely, etc.

One of our close family had to - as recently as the 1960s - go for First Holy Communion instruction (and was also baptized and confirmed in Catholicism) secretly in a smaller village rather than the larger city nearby for fear that a more distant relative connected to communism and holding a high position in a factory in the larger nearby city would find out from people who may have seen this relative attending religious instruction classes. (Baptisms were performed in secret or private ceremonies with very few relatives and friends present.)

When we finally decided to go - we left where we lived - took our little attache case, put one pair of underwear for myself and your father into it along with soap and very few smaller items and went to go see my mother in the nearby village.

Earlier, your father had urged an escape to America but I said, 'No.' But when I found out what had happened at his work place, I gave in and said, 'Let's go." We locked out door and went to see my mother.

It was then we found out my younger brother had hopped aboard one of the buses specifically headed for the Austrian / Hungarian border the previous day. We're pretty sure most of this transpired after the revolution took place, because as I told you before, as we walked to the border on the day we did, we saw Russian tanks rolling along on some of the roads ahead of us. so they were starting to occupy the country already; in the very beginning of November (1956).

(Mom at this point confirms Michener's account of having heard three waves of Hungarians escaped during this time. Michener's lack of delicacy in describing these waves is not politically correct by today's standards but he describes the three waves of refugees, thusly: thieves and prostitutes followed by academicians, artists and professional people such as doctors and lawyers and finally average everyday working people and citizens.)

We heard that we were in the second five thousand people to have crossed the bridge at Andau by all the counting of heads that had taken place at the bridge site itself.

(Michener's book says that by the counting of heads that had taken place at the bridge at Andau during the refugee escapes - based on the figures available at the time - that if the escapes continued every day in the same amounts, Hungary would have been completely empty in 9 years time - based on the population of Hungary in 1956.)

Under Saint Stephen's time, Hungary's population was 40 million. After communism ended, it was only 10 million. This is by and large due to the annexing of Hungary during the Treaty of Trianon. The Czechs, the Yugoslavs, the Rumanians all took part of the population away with them and their new borders under the treaty.

We came alongside this forest that we saw at the end of the railroad line, where we met (people who eventually came to Chicago also) some people.

And as we walked we saw the moon's reflection in some water that lay just ahead, before us, which turned out to the canal covered by the bridge at Andau. So we proceeded to walk toward it.

And at our last step before the bridge we turned and said, "God be with you, our country and home," turned and walked the small spanse of the footbridge across to freedom.

(Mom becomes emotional at this point.)

Little by little, you'll get it all.

(Mom continues.)

I have also told you many times before that when we crossed over we saw hordes of people crying and singing? You know it always hurts when you leave your home for as long as you live. I mean who did we have? Who do I have now? My three children. I am like an orphaned sparrow.

I went through it, didn't I?

Most of everything you need to know about all this is on the Internet.

(Mom - at this point - confirms Michener's account of a 'look out tower' a bit further down along the bank of the canal where she said she did see Russian soldiers sitting in wait watching the exodus of refugees pour out of Hungary and into Austrian territory to freedom. And she said they were very scared at that point.)

I also told you before we met a man in Andau who had left his wife and two children in Hungary who had registered right there to be on a list going to Vienna to a "entrance" facility that was accepting Hungarian refugees and had turned around to go back and get his family. I quickly wrote my mother a letter and asked the man humbly that if it was in his power could he please find my parent's and give them this letter that your father and I arrived in Austria and we made it and we're fine. He lived in a nearby village.

We never met that man again. We assume he mailed the letter when he arrived home. And my mother did receive the letter. She did. She got it.

-----------------------------------

Among other things during this conversation, Mom also told me a little more about Camp Kilmer in New Jersey. One of the married men there with his wife - would help sort and separate clothes and bring back every day, clothing, that was either new or newly donated to the refugees. She also related how cots had been set up and she and dad were fortunate enough to be able to scoot their cots close to each other and sleep together at night in the New Jersey military camp. She also recalled a favorite sweater of hers had been stolen while there.

After about two weeks of checking a bulletin board had been put out listing different American cities that were looking for specific tradesmen and through "the Bishop's resettlement committee," and this bulletin board, companies had registered their vacant positions and people willing to take refugees into their homes as sponsors, Dad found work as a blacksmith / tool and die maker and they embarked upon three bus loads on a particular day to travel to Chicago where Dad could be hired for the job in question and my folks could live with people - as boarders - until they could financially stand on their own two feet.

The Bishop's Resettlement Committee is responsible for their plane trip to Camp Kilmer as well as their bus ride to Chicago. And Mom finished our conversation that day telling me that Dad and her sent money consistently, over time, in small increments to The Bishop's Resettlement Committee until they had paid back what they believe to have been the cost of their transportation to America and to Chicago, which she remembered as being around $160.00 dollars (in 1956, 1957).

-----------------------------------

His name was Antal and I am his son, Michael.

-----------------------------------

God bless us all.

Happy Tuesday, folks!

MJC

Bibliography, Citation:

Michener, James A.. The Bridge at Andau. New York, New York: The Random House Publishing Group, 1957.

Sunday September 27, 2009

2009-09-27T21:55:00.004-05:00

Many blogs for the price of one. :-)

I mentioned recently I have been watching television again. . . .

Aqua Velva, Lectric-Shave, perpetual five o'clock shadows, angular chins, muted olives and dark beige skinny little neckties, greys, teals, browns, angular furniture, simple. Hair sprayed buns and white gloves, form fitting skirts, hats, smoking, pop bottles dispensed in vending machines that have the little bottle opener waste slot. Pop! And you're holding a cold clean bottle of Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper. Our of a bottle. Cold, wet, clean. Conrad Hilton calls you and asks your opinion of a new ad campaign for his hotel chain on a whim because he met you at a country club / golf course and you made an impression on him. The life of Dan Draper on AMC's hit television series, Mad Men.

Simple answers to complex questions.

Getting your foot run over by a John Deere lawn mower - that you can ride around on - with the blade engaged being driven, badly, by a girl the secretary pool at an office party congratulating the firm for being sold to a British company. One of the new ad men from the parent company loses a foot.

Good Lord this show is crazy!

Corporate takeover.

Pleasant Valley Sunday not so pleasant.

I just got finished watching this week's episode.

Period pieces are hard to watch in film and on t.v. Invariably they get something wrong.

This show does not get anything wrong.

It feels like the 1960s - in transition - from the calm, cool, collected to the big, bold, beautiful flower-power age. Like a clear little window to the past commenting on our present. For as much as things change they stay the same. Except for the "feel" of how everything looks.

Add this to the list of t.v. shows I am currently following after a very long time of not watching television shows at all.

Very well done this is.

-----------------------------

This week's Monk was pretty good. Can hardly wait to see how they finally tackle the subject of Monk's wife Trudy.

-----------------------------

Checking my podcasts recently over at GCast recently, it turns out I have done quite a few of them over the last two years.

Sunday June 8, 2007 - Friday May 15, 2009

79 podcasts

----------------------------

. . .and 775 web blog posts since March of 2005. Wow! That's a lot of bullshit! LOL!

----------------------------

I finally finished reading "The Bridge at Andau" by James Michener, the book about the little footbridge over the canal in the northwest at the Austrian / Hungarian border and the people who crossed it during the Hungarian Revolt of 1956. And as The Dude said in The Big Lebowski, his final pages or so tied the room up nicely or tied it all together or how ever it's phrased in the movie.

Apparently Michener checked, rechecked and triple checked personal accounts of the flight to freedom from as many sources as he had available to him in 1957 and the composites were created literally to protect those individuals who were candid enough to talk to him about their lives under communism in Hungary.

I like that.

Scholarly. Checking sources. Being a good reporter. Call it the OCD side of me. All those years as an undergrad and the rest as a grad student-at-large at Northeastern and then the meticulousness of working on commodities for 24 years verifying, checking, correcting trade materials from the trading pits and the accompanying data keypunched into the clearinghouse computers.

Well, if nothing else, those skills paid off for a neurotic like me. Because now I know the difference between a concerted "effort" and here say or something thrown together haphazardly.

Does any of this make me a better person? T.v. shows, podcasts, doing research into my parents past and blogging?

No, but I thought I'd share. . . .

:-)

Have a great week everybuddy.

MJC

Wednesday September 23, 2009

2009-09-23T11:32:00.006-05:00

My blogging buddy Angie, among others, have called me a "total quirk" (not the first time I've been called that!) and I have got to tell you, it's a badge of honor I wear with pride. Reason being, the perks associated with being a quirk. One of those things, or, "quirk perks," I like to call them, is that no one and I mean no one ever really and truly knows ~WHAT~ you are up to. They can try and hold you down and hold you back, put you down and even hate you for your footloose and fancy-free always smiling demeanor, but they - sincerely and quite honestly - never really and truly know what you are up to.

. . .and the reason I know this is. . .?

Because they continue in their pursuits. Some people make it their life calling to be the thorn in your flesh for no other reason than because it gives them pleasure in deeming themselves normal while deeming you a quirk - as if their knowledge of the world were any more factual, real or truer than the quirky lens through which you view your own world.

Their special knowledge and keen insight of the world is something they either beat you over the head with for not knowing the same as they do or for your not coveting their normalcy outwardly. It's as if they want you to ask them about their "secret to life," because, to them, it seems, it is so obviously more valuable than your own method. But still they think you should know it. They really want to share it with you, but they'd rather beat you ever the head with it for not asking them about it.

"Man, that guy / girl is different" (as if difference is such a bad thing) is what "the normals" think when they see your quirkiness first-hand, so rather than trying to openly share their view of the world with you, they punish you. The exact opposite of what they really and truly want. All at once then, their overblown "world view" becomes this "thing" they decide they will keep from you. And while these people play their "push me, pull you" behavior, it begs the question, "Who's actually the quirkier here?," thereby making the quirks feel as if they'd really rather keep as far from the normals as humanly possible; which no one can fault a so-called "quirk" for, really. (Who wants to be normal in the face of all that?)

Paramount in this equation is the analogy of little white / black poodle magnet theory that a "normal" and a "quirk" actually repel each other in a lot of ways due to these constant struggles I mention above.

Quirks can hold top jobs, contrary to popular opinion. But you just don't know them as "true" quirks. Quirks can hold academic degrees, too, in a variety of different fields and areas. And quirks can be normals in disguise too, just your average person on the street. Quirks can also be the guy on the off-ramp holding a crumpled up Dixie Cup, waving a sign at you that reads, "Thanks for any help. God bless!" That's the beauty aspect in all this and quite frankly the pisser aspect in all this for the normals is that just when they think they can fit you into a box, you step out of it holding a huge fake dandelion, like the late Henry Gibson, reciting poetry and wearing diver's flippers on your feet!

The punishment for the high crimes and treason of a quirk is demonstrative exclusionary disdain behavior and sometimes downright outward hatred behavior.

How far we've come, folks, from the incendiary and prejudicial hijinks and unfair treatment of the "outcasts" in high school to present day adulthood. Try as we might to deny it, adult life is kind of like high school all over again in many different senses: you're either in or you're out, sitting in the corner of the lunchroom away from the "preps". "In" or "out".

How far we've come indeed.

Well if that's the way it's going to be, then I'd rather be a "quirk," quite frankly, and in the words of Agent 86, Maxwell Smart, ". . . . .and loving it!"

And the reason I say, ". . .and loving it!," with very little fear - as of this writing - is not because I am doing God's work on this planet and have some special position as moral arbiter in this world - people will exclude and belittle and make you feel as if it is some great reward you've been given in knowing them. Rather, I am again, as many times before, in this web log - viewing the world through the lens of my own personal camera and reporting what I see, feel, think and sense living in this skin. And if I don't somehow, someway find a way to love the skin I am in - to some measure - as a "quirk" well, then Mister, all hope is lost. No?

I can hear some folks - reading this - laughing right now. That's okay. It's a humble little existence, but you know what? At least it's mine. :-)

Another "perk" in the knowing that one is a "quirk" is the acute pain and clarity with which we see this exclusionary behavior in others: it makes us reflect upon and be thankful for the ones different from these types - the ones who include you, warm people, altruistic people, humble people that we do have in our lives. And in knowing "that difference" - that a human being is capable of infinite forgiveness, mercy, goodness, altruism - simpatico for his fellow man - with the appropriate emphasis on the appropriate things in life - one mustn't always be bogged down in the differences between the "quirks" and the "normals", the Hatfields and the McCoys, the "ins" and the "outs" - but rather in things that make us all alike: wanting to live in peace with as many people and things possibly as one can. Harmony.

The true gift in knowing anyone is not "true" or a "gift" or even "knowing them." Rather, it is in the experiencing the truth, deeming it a gift and feeling it and sensing it as such - by how people behave with you.

Life is too short to keep living in high school long after graduation day. But sadly, we do it. Quirks and normals alike.

Here's to life and all it's maddening labels and quirky behaviors, to it's noble aspirations and lofty ideals and keeping it all in perspective through whatever lens we individually or collectively view the world.

God willing, we can all make sense of it one day.

Amen.

:-)

MJC

Tuesday September 22, 2009

2009-09-22T08:48:00.000-05:00

Today is the Autumnal Equinox

For years now I have heard bitchy, angry, jaded women make light of their hostility toward men by answering the question of the use of the word "bitch" by saying, "You use that word as if it were a bad thing," thinking to myself, "Well, yeah it is." And I wonder, after a beat, "Well is it such a bad thing?"

Fifty three years go by and for some reason people can't believe "freedom" is the same.

Since starting this web log in March of 2005, I have always prided myself in the notion that with painstaking effort, I can keep this material "politics free."

But I find that increasingly difficult bearing in mind that lately, more so than at any point in my life, I have been considering writing a definitive treatise about my parents flight to freedom - even before I started this amalgam of "all things MikeC I have been depositing here on the Internet for over 4 and a half years."

There will always be people who disagree with you. There will always be people who try and label you. There will always be people who ascribe a "bent" or an opinion to your words, spoken or written, so that they may compartmentalize what it is they are hearing or reading and using what they believe to be their critical mind and parrot back to you what they believe they are absorbing from your thoughts.

"This is MikeC's politics." And they think they got it nailed. But they do not.

One must understand a general basis for anything written of my family history will always start with my parents "flight to freedom" from an Eastern Bloc communist country. Sure, it would go back further, to Bukovina, (once a part of Hungary, or what was considered a bi-ethnic region of Rumania, speaking both Hungarian and Rumanian,) and even further still, but what has intrigued me the most and what has been on my mind most, lately, has been what transpired fifty-three years ago this November, this Hungarian Revolution of 1956.

So much so that I purchased a paperback copy of James A. Michener's, "The Bridge at Andau," knowing full well, we have a hard cover version somewhere in boxes amidst my family somewhere from when the book was first published in 1957, in the year following after the actual revolution or uprising took place.

Two hundred and fifty-six pages in to a book that is two hundred and seventy-seven pages long, I find myself wondering about the word, "freedom."

I find myself wondering about the reputation of a man, supposedly writing a fact-based, historical report of his experiences at the tiny footbridge spanning the canal near the village of Andau, and who would draw composite characters for the reader to see in his text all the while leading the reader to believe these were actual people with real experiences and everything he writes about these composites are true.

I find myself asking of the state of mind of freedom insofar as the given political structures our nations deem as their backbones and how people rationalize for themselves the lives they will live under such political pretense.

I find myself asking the question, "What price freedom," and, "What price 'state of mind,'" over and over again when reading the present day world through "The Bridge at Andau" lens.

I also ask how my personal lens allows me to view the world given the stories and experiences of talking to my parents over the course of my life about what they experienced in those watershed moments when they immigrated to another continent for the sake of "politics" and / or "state of mind."

I also ask if "freedom" - and everything ascribed to it based in 1956 standards and based on todays standards - is such a bad thing? Is it the same? Is it a political buzz word or is it a "state of mind." What is freedom and what does it mean?

And how did the word effect whatever life I have enjoyed up 'til this point at 47 years of age and further?

Difficult questions and many others exist.

No easy answers.

Stay tuned.

Happy Tuesday,
MJC

Friday September 18, 2009 (deux)

2009-09-18T22:16:00.002-05:00

From somewhere in the so called, 'blogosphere,' from my blog writing past comes this thought for tonight, as I embark on another drive up I-90 to Elgin to work my graveyard shift:

http://sparechangeandparadigms.blogspot.com/2008/06/tuesday-june-24-2008.html

Happy Weekend, folks!

MJC

Friday September 18, 2009

2009-09-18T21:32:00.004-05:00

Thursday September 17, 2009
The Quest: The Best Thin Crust Pizza: Chicago
Marie's Liquor and Pizza
4129 W Lawrence Ave
Chicago, IL 60630-2821

. . .and a lovely female trio jazz combo riffing and jamming, adding ambiance to a late dinner with my buddy Craig at another one of our favorite pizza haunts on the northwest side of Chicago, last night. That's a thin crust cheese and sausage ordered by Craig. I ordered the thin crust cheese, sausage, pepperoni and onion. (not pictured). YUM!

Wednesday September 9, 2009

2009-09-09T12:14:00.003-05:00

The funny thing about this whole graveyard thing I'm doing now in my life: I'm doing a lot more "surfing" on the web in the wee small hours of the night and morning, trying to acclimate myself to a lifestyle that makes me feel more like a vampire than a normal human being. On the days I now consider my weekends - Monday night into Tuesday and Tuesday night into Wednesday for a few months now, I've stayed wide awake not quite knowing what to do.

I've caught up on some interesting television shows for free on my cable outlet's OnDemand feature, gone out for late night fast food, messed around with graphics and HDR photography, signed into "the matrix" (Second Life) and worked at beautifying the world in which I have been allowed to live, building and texturing an island and creating interesting tee shirts to sell other members of the service for pennies, but mostly I have surfed the web.

One thing leads to another nowadays.

You surf for "this" and you see "that", so you go there and check that out. Pretty soon it's an hour later and you forget what you were researching in the first place. Your next look up, it's three hours later and your priorities have shifted again from "finding a book" you really want to read and buy online to surfing Myspace or Facebook, then checking email and ultimately you're now you're so far beyond and far away from what you had originally planned to surf for, you're exasperated, tired, eyes bleary or "don't know, don't care" and are happily "lost."

Quests for information that lead you elsewhere.

Some of these quests originate in the real world and take you virtually to that database and clearinghouse of zany nuttiness and ego, the world wide web, which Al Gore and I created (grin), back in the fall of 1990 (LOL!) in a stream of consciousness whirlwind of oftentimes goals and destinations that are completely and in all other ways not related to each other by any shred of connective tissue except that you clicked from here to here to way over "there."

Sometimes, not. But sometimes, yes.

Another kind of quest originating in the real world, in the last few years has been with my buddy, Craig. I have run the gamut from using his name in my web log to not using it at all and calling him my "beachcomber-dude friend" with much respect and affection because, well, he - kind of - looks that way, you know? He resembles someone who has encompassed "the Aloha spirit" his entire life. And God bless him, he's still going strong!

I've known Craig for 24 years and for as much as I say life should be free and easy, friendships should be free and easy, life in a social milieu should be free and easy, Craig's and my friendship is, was and probably will always be just that! I love him dearly as any friend might another and he's been there, God bless him through a lot of tough times in the last five years. Not at my beck and call mind you, but plenty enough times to be able to have the right amount of affection for him in a totally appropriate way.

He's got his life, I've got mine, but he's been there and has helped me considerably whenever I needed to roam free like the lone wolf that I am, feel social, see music acts - which Craig has always invited me to - we've seen some pretty amazing musical talent perform live in the last three of four years - or to just have someone to hang and chill and eat dinner with and shoot the breeze: catching up on anything zany, wacky, kooky or nutty happening to us - in either of our lives at that given moment in time.

The "quest" I am referring to above, quickly pinpointing the subject of this treatise is, Craig's quest. I am merely a hanger-on, a glommer-on, a sidekick to it all. It may be quickly becoming a quest of my own soon if I am not careful. It may also already be just that. But it's a noble cause and one which elevates those of us with higher aspirations in life to the pedestal upon which we perch gazing down at those members of humanity who have not picked up our cause and while up there, look down and laugh at them. (Which is a whole other web log in and of itself!) I am of course referring to:

The Quest: Finding The Best Thin Crust Pizza

But it's so much more than that, really and that heading does not do the "quest" true justice at all. The quest is not only about finding the thinnest crust in Chicago, but finding a pizza whose sauce, whose cheese and who's other various ingredients rate into what can only be called "the superlative" bringing together one truly amazing thin crust pizza.

The quest will never be over, really and the quest itself may be the "thing" and not even really the pizza itself per se, but one thing is certain, we've got stories!!! Oh yes, we have stories! And we've eaten pizza! Oh, yes we've eaten pizza!!!

I find it pretty amazing that this is something no one else has picked up on or I simply have not done enough research in finding others in my area on this quest same as us, well because, I've been too busy experiencing the quest itself rather than finding like-minded individuals. Craig and I have pretty much always have been enough members to the party even though we have been privy to larger pizza parties sometimes with twenty to thirty people over the course of the last ten years or so. And they have mostly been people from my former employment. But throughout it all, whether we went out socially from work, bringing a friend or two or a family member with us, or whatever, this "thing," this "quest" remains, Craig's. I am merely there for a second opinion and to observe.

I never thought I would document any of it, but apparently, I decided today, to share some of this quest with you, gentle reader, and express some thoughts about exploring this great city of mine and the haunts and kitchens Craig and I have been to in his quest for the best thin crust pizza one might find in Chicago.

I mean because let's face it: the debate rages on over the best pizza in the country. New York versus Chicago comes to mind immediately. But only those with unlimited resources and funds can travel the four corners of this nation and sample, pick and choose what they believe to be the best. But it takes a true contrarian to search for the best thin crust pizza in a town best known for inventing "pan, or stuffed pizza." And I have to agree with Craig who has said on many occasions, "Buddy! Who needs all that crust and cheese? Who?" And if you think about it, he's right. "Who, indeed!"

Reduce a pizza down to it's constituent elements, dough / crust, sauce, cheese and a meat of choice - if you're not a vegan - and you have the most basic elements then comprising this "thing" you want and love so much that you would send an employee to Columbus, Ohio with enough cash for toll, gas and limited expenses to bring you back something deemed the best pizza in Ohio. Yes, Craig did just that a bunch of years ago and after he told me this story, I was like, "Damn, bro, you're serious aren't you?" To which Craig might have said, "Hell, yes, buddy!" After that, it was academic. I decided I was in. And "in" I have stayed. So much so that I have accompanied Craig to no less than fifteen to twenty excursions upon his "quest" in the last as many years.

There have been a few stinkers along the way. Some places lost their pizza cookers, or chefs or changed their style, recipe or manner in which they prepare, bake or even serve their pizza, we've noticed, oh yes, we've noticed - but overall, it's truly been the "journey" itself that's been the most rewarding. hanging, chill-axing, as the kids nowadays say, and trying to experience that thing, catch that wave, capture lightning in a jar and to be able to say after the meal was over, "That ranks pretty high up there, buddy."

There is no written list of eateries. No rating system. No formal structure of which to speak. It's just a very quiet, humble "quest." And will remain such with any luck, until we are wheeling each other to pizza joints all around the area gumming our pies enthusiastically with smiles on our faces and hopefully thinking all the while, "Yeah, this was worth the trip."

Here's one story - among many - from a while back you might enjoy rereading. One of those things I surfed to, while searching for something else.

http://sparechangeandparadigms.blogspot.com/2007/06/saturday-june-16-2007.html

Happy Wednesday everyone and take care,

Your pal,

MikeC

"The Quest Lives!"

Sunday September 6, 2009

2009-09-06T20:50:00.007-05:00

In Memorium IV

His name was Antal and I am his son, Michael.

Dateline:
Friday, November 16, 1956

Mom and Dad take off from Gyorstivan (Gyor, St. Ivan), Hungary to travel 56.9 km, about 11 hours 28 mins, according to Google maps, to Andau, Austria.

Not five days earlier Mom had lost her second child and by the time her and Dad had reached Andau, Mom's pants were covered in blood.

No food or water, traveling along side Highway M1 and the train line, Mom and Dad walked until such a time as they could flag down a truck and driver which drove them - riding in the back - as far as the driver could, in the direction of freedom.

Walking again and pointed in the direction of Csorna, my parents continued toward Andau. As for the truck driver? He continued on his own journey not even knowing or probably even caring about the significant role he'd play in family stories of a "flight to freedom" told many times over and over again in the next 53 years by the couple he helped that day.

The Red Cross promptly took care of Mom and had her lay down while Dad submitted identification and his wishes for relocation until they were transported by bus to Vienna.

James Michener wrote his first literary work, the book, "The Bridge at Andau" as a collection of interviews, or a documentary of sorts regarding the foot bridge that many Hungarians and other dissidents crossed in order to flee communist Hungary during the revolution of 1956 and the subsequent crushing of Hungarian independence a few short days later.

Crossing the footbridge there, has long been this ideal or notion of freedom - or attaining freedom - in my mind, having been told to me, both by my mother and father many times over the course of my life.

The sorrow, the terror, the crying, the mourning, the grief, sense of loss, sadness and distress - the mass of humanity happy to have safely crossed, resting, some aparalyzed to move any further by what they were leaving behind and the uncertainty of where they were going - described to me by my parents - of the people sitting on the riverbanks of the Austrian side of the bridge at Andau, singing:

"Elindultam szep hazambol. . ."

"I started out from my beautiful home. . ."

Haunting. Sad. Dream-like. For my Mom to recount and detail this Labor Day Sunday and for me to hear about and listen to, again.

- More later -

His name was Antal and I am his son, Michael.

Happy Labor Day all.

MJC

(Earlier thoughts and details of my parent's flight to freedom appear in the small square in the upper left hand corner of this webblog under the heading "Mom and Dad's Story: In Memoriam I, II, III." at http://sparechangeandparadigms.blogspot.com)

Wednesday September 2, 2009

2009-09-02T20:26:00.002-05:00

And another good show which still has a lot of work to make it a great show, Warehouse 13, which I have been watching on OnDemand this passed week.

Recently there was an episode where Pete and Myka are sent to find an artifact that is causing a hot young couple to win big in casinos all over the United States and retrieve the artifact and bring it back to the warehouse. Early in the episode Myka gets caught in of all things, Lewis Carroll's, "looking glass" and her doppleganger or mirror image is sent out into the world on the mission with Pete.

After time, Artie decides to speak to what appears to be the real Myka trapped inside the looking glass. Here's some dialogue from that scene:

================ Warehouse 13, Episode entitled, Duped =============

Artie:
You're really mad at me.

Myka:
I feel sorry for you actually.

Artie:
Oh, why is that?

Myka:
Because of all the things right in front of your face that you simply refuse to see.

Artie:
Like what?

Myka:
Like me.

Artie:
Ohhh, well. . . . Yeah, well, uhhh, I need to ask you a question that only the real Myka would know the answer to. . .

Myka:
(laughs)
You know what? You're wasting time, Artie, 'cause Pete's in danger.

Artie:
Yeah, well so are you, right? Isn't that true? If you're really who you say you are.

Myka:
Okay. Okay, fine. Here's what you and I both know, but we never talk about it. Alright?

Artie:
Mhhm. . .

Myka:
. . .that I don't trust you. And I need you. . . to tell me the truth. Do not treat me like some chess piece that you move around on a board that only you can see. That I have value. That I matter. And that I deserve to know everything I can about this world that you send me into everyday so that at least I have a fighting chance. You know in spite of everything? In spite of everything. . . I like you. I think you're great. 'N I want you to think the same of me.

Artie:
(sigh, long pause)
I screwed up.
==============================

The dialogue is something I think we all wish we heard from people in our lives sometimes such as parents and bosses and anyone, really, who we might otherwise be involved with.

Love the show and loved that scene.

take care everybody,

MikeC

Sunday August 30, 2009

2009-08-30T19:56:00.010-05:00

I almost forgot in yesterday's bullet points to mention a show which along with the ones I mentioned is one I call one of my "secret pleasures."

And no, I am not talking about "Dr. Tongue's 3-D House of Slave Chicks", which quite frankly I wish someone would make. Eugene Levy is still alive and could play Igor. But John Candy, sadly passed away some years ago and would not be able to reprise his role as Dr. Tongue. For any of you SCTV aficionados out there, that also means Dr. Tongue's 3D House of Stewardesses could never be made either. Particularly because it is an outmoded word in today's society and the backlash from a movie or a television series with the word "stewardesses" in the title would be tremendous! They are called "flight attendants" in 2009. *sigh!*

But I digress!

That having been said, the other program I forgot to mention was the television series, Monk starring and executive produced by actor, Tony Shaloub. From the time he played the quirky cab driver on Wings until now, I have admired him and what he does. He's got quirk down to an art form. And thus is the case with, "Monk."

For those of you who have never seen the series, Monk plays an unempathetic, disjointed, disconnected ex-cop / detective with this San Francisco police department awash in his own neuroses, OCD and suffering post traumatic stress disorder from the loss of the one true love of his life: his wife, in a firey automobile accident which he was never able to solve. Monk works sporadically still for the SFPD and had been ordered to have an assistant with him, from the beginning of the series, because he was deemed unfit to care for himself.

You see, by his powers of deductive reasoning, which have become super heightened by his eleven or twelve year dilemma since losing his wife, he has been able to solve 8 television seasons worth of police cases with his consultative detective work, still with the SFPD.

And the reason I probably forgot to mention Monk in my web log yesterday was because I have enjoyed this program spottily at best and have missed quite a few episodes. I have not been on board for the entire 8 year run. So it didn't readily come to mind yesterday as a top favorite show of mine, but after having watched another episode this evening on OnDemand, I may have to rethink that position.

I just recently started watching Monk about a year or so ago, never really planting myself in front of the television when first run epsidoes in a given season were on. I became content to watch whenever the mood struck me (by OnDemand on Comcast) or whenever the USA Network had a Monk Marathon. But I'm glad I started watching it and am excited about this being the last season because they will solve the case of "Trudy" this year, Monk's deceased wife.

I watched the UFO episode this evening guest starring Daniel Stern and am convinced I was right in latching on to this program the way I have. It's, as the kids say nowadays, "Awesome!"

Maybe not as good as Dr. Tongue's 3D House of Slave Chicks, but then again, you can't have everything!

Have a great week, folks!

MJC

Saturday August 29, 2009

2009-08-29T21:43:00.006-05:00

Happy August being over, folks! Dang! The summer has flown right by, hasn't it? Been quite sometime since I posted. So much has happened and yet so little I don't know where to begin, so I will sum it all up in bullet points for you to consider, ponder and perhaps chuckle at.

o I am starved for new music. And let's add "good" to that equation.

o Been trying to get used to the graveyard shift since June 2nd, my starting date at my new job. Lawd it weighs heavily on me lately. ANd Angie, yes I am trying meltonin.

o The batcave needs a light dusting.

o I have turned into a "newsie" since the death of Michael Jackson having had CNN on in the living room nightly whilst I am on the computer here at the corner desk in my dining room.

o I still like to watch occasional television but it usually consists of X FIles, Star Trek The Next Generation and NCIS reruns. Other than that it's CNN lately.

o I noticed that what is masquerading as news on CNN is quite slanted and a lot of heresay.

o I used to consider myself a liberal.

o Now I don't know what political "bent" I espouse.

o My catch all, my dining room table needs to be cleared off desperately.

o I need to get rid of old newspapers.

o I miss my blog!!!

o Not sure this whole "living my life" in the open, in life, and here on the net in this blog as a preferred method of living my life - has proved as beneficial as I once thought. The jury's still out on that one.

o I need to pop in the shower and go.

o Day for night and night for day is an interesting state of affairs I am finding.

o Rest in peace Senator Edward Kennedy.

That's it for now folks!

Everybody take care!

Your little pal,

Mikey

Friday August 7, 2009

2009-08-07T21:37:00.002-05:00

Please keep my sister, Annamaria in your prayers, who recently had some surgery. She had some complications. The surgeons took care of her. We're very hopeful she will make a complete recovery.

Happy Friday, kids!

your lil pal,

MikeyC

Saturday July 25, 2009

2009-07-25T21:18:00.004-05:00

Please check out my "Shutterfly" art book of my photography and if you have pause to do so, please order one for your coffee table:

Photography and Image Manipulation by Michael J. Csiki (MikeC16958)

Thanks, folks!

Happy weekend!

MJC

Thursday July 16, 2009

2009-07-16T13:09:00.004-05:00

Q: Best mo-foing, gol derned effing gift a fricken 47 year old bassid can have five days removed from his birthday?

A: To have a job finally after nine months, to put 17 bills in the mail, all paid, all up to date and to still have a roof over my head for one more month God willing, with a little luck and through God's grace.

Amen!

Happy Thursday, kids

yer lil pal,

MikeyC

Tuesday July 7, 2009

2009-07-07T05:31:00.004-05:00

On the day of the Michael Jackson Memorial let me just say about this one particular sentence in my previous web log:

"Whether or not there is some kind of truth to the allegations surrounding Michael Jackson and charges of child molestation is not really at issue. People have quirks. But to distort Michael’s very public persona of happiness, gentility, dreaming of a better world into something horrifying and unconscionable requires some expiation on the part of his distractors, naysayers, users and those who made it their life’s calling to tear him down. Especially now."

I am not minimizing child molestation. It is a horrifying and unconscionable act of human depravity. It's not a quirk, okay? That's not what I was trying to say. However, that having been said, Michael was acquitted in the 2000s and paid a tremendous amount of money in the 1990s to have those allegations go away.

Does this mean OJ did not commit the murders? Is there enough of a leap of similarity in these two instances to say for sure Michael was definitelty guilty of child molestation as we tend to say near water coolers all across the nation about OJ that he was indeed and definitely guilty of murdering his wife and her friend?

Well, it all falls into the category of an X File doesn't it?

We may never truly know.

-------------

Wikipedia tells the details of the molestation cases as quoted in the allegations of the young boys. It truly is a horrifying read, to be sure. You cannot blame the representative from New York who earlier today called Michael Jackson a criminal child molestor. It is all quite puzzling.

Let's consult the expert in public relations. My PR professor during the Winter Term of 1992 @ Northeastern Illinois University, a former PR exec @ Hill and Knowlton who said to our class of wide-eyed students:

(by this time I was well into my graduate studies and incidentally, this was my last term in my collegiate life.)

"What is the hardest thing in public relations? The hardest thing in public relations is to prove something did not happen."

This quote was uttered by our professor to my class in 1992 the year before the first accusations against Michael Jackson surfaced. So this quote is not something uttered in response to that accusation having surfaced but speaks to what my professor said afterwards:

". . .that means anyone can say anything they want and have it matter whether it is indeed true or not because the word "public" is a part of "public relations, folks."

These words will ring in my ears for the rest of my life.

And that's precisely why they should, upon hearing them, quite literally burn the ears of the parents of these children paraded in front of the media and the courtroom proceedings of Michael Jackson's child molestation hearings and trials and teach the people involved some lessons in life they might otherwise not have learned or experienced.

Well if you can train Taliban youth to be suicide bombers at a very early age, you can coach your children to lie to police and in court to extort money from a billionaire who befriended you and your family, I guess.

Does this put your responsibility in perspective for you out there - any parents reading these words?

One day, I hope the Bible is right and the real truth sets us all free.

-------------

Once you have been in the public eye it is your duty and responsibility to protect what you can with your own public persona.

Did Michael Jackson do enough to protect himself in the public's eye?

No?

But is he guilty simply because someone accused him?

No.

What should his solution have been in 1990s? And does it not make a difference that he was acquitted in the 2000s?

I have struggled with my professor's question and answer for 16 years.

But not as much as Michael Jackson struggled with his public persona and the accusations against him.

True, some of the negativity surrounding him, his wierdness and the physical changes he went through in his life since the Thriller years are of his own doing and probably a product of Michael Jackson exorcising his own demons. But the stuff that destroyed his public image were not directly his own fault.

And his inability to "prove something did not happen" actually might have ultimately been responsible for his untimely death.

-------------

So let that be a lesson to you, public relations students, out there. You may offer free bumper stickers, free tee shirts and the like, but having your public persona, corporate image or individual reputation sullied, smeared, tarnished or ruined by certain particular people way can quite literally kill you.

Very sincerely, and quite honestly, if anyone reading this blog has a solution to how Michael Jackson should have handled this I would love to read it.

Because I have presumed his innocence. Because this still is the United States of America the last time I checked and not a gulag or something, you know?

Anyways,

R.I.P. King of Pop

and happy Tuesday, folks!

:-)

MJC

Sunday July 5, 2009

2009-07-05T21:37:00.001-05:00

“First Camelot disappeared, then the princess, then the dreamer.”

“People have tried to turn this into a negative place for their own reasons.”

– Jermaine Jackson on Larry King Live from Neverland Ranch

Whether or not there is some kind of truth to the allegations surrounding Michael Jackson and charges of child molestation is not really at issue. People have quirks. But to distort Michael’s very public persona of happiness, gentility, dreaming of a better world into something horrifying and unconscionable requires some expiation on the part of his distractors, naysayers, users and those who made it their life’s calling to tear him down. Especially now.

And the reason those against him should feel penitent is pretty obvious.

They cannot change the jealousy they felt or feel or continue to feel about the light they saw, his aura and the things he stood for.

It is as if some “dark side” wants to pull Michael Jackson and others in the public eye into it’s deep, dark, dank depths to lower someone with honorable ideals to the level of “darkness.”

We are all helpless against our own humanity. Everything ends, everything fades, everything disappears, everything dies. If it is born it will die.

Why make that come sooner than it should? Why dig up dirt? For the “sake” of honesty or finding some hidden truth?

Why not “accept?”

Just accept. Accept what you see as what you get. Take a thing at it’s face value. Particularly from a thing that begs the question, “What about love, innocence, sharing, helping, changing one’s self for the better to elevate humanity?”

It’s as if some Snidley Whiplash somewhere wants to tie the “damsel” to the railroad tracks so that while life lies helpless, near the end and close to death there is nothing else to do except squirm, try to escape or accept the inevitable. Let’s not even talk about pleas for help that go unanswered; that an entirely other web log.

Humans kill to exact some power over their own humanity. “We may have no power over our own birth, but we sure as hell have some control over our own deaths.”

Killing each other, then, is the ultimate way of ending our own innocence.

You say I am rambling making no sense creating an analogy that has no basis in fact in the industrial and technological age?

I say it’s all the same.
It’s inevitable that innocence will end. However it is not inevitable that our own emerging maturity will destroy the innocence it replaces. It is sufficient to know with great power (of maturity) comes great responsibility but it is not necessary to exact that power upon yourself or anyone else.

My sister and I were talking on the phone the other day about John F. Kennedy, Princess Diana and Michael Jackson.

It’s as if the tides of life are converging against humanity as a reminder that everything ends. Innocence. Some ideals. Everything that stood for something good and pure and right and fair and just and kind and right, in the last fifty years, has been ripped away from us all too soon.

Entropy.

Devolution.

It’s really very sad. Because the naysayers, detractors, users and those digging up as much dirt as they could on people such as JFK, Diana and Michael care nothing about the individuals. There is always something “else” they are wanting from these people:

1) the real truth as to whom they are; digging up dirt on them,
2) to take away their dignity, their relevance, their importance for what they stood for,
3) (in the case of JFK, or the drunken limo driver who couldn’t handle his alcohol) their lives

Diana was a terrible accident and it has been speculated Michael’s death was also an accident, but not JFK’s. That was deliberate.

Why are these concepts so simple to me? Why do I “get” it?

Conflicted. With light and dark, good and evil, what we see and what lies below the surface. Innocence and maturity. The fragility of life and understanding our own humanity. Live and let live. The reconciliation and co-existence of each of these.

Concepts.

I don’t believe there exists a human being who can altrustically “do good deeds” all the while having some double-life of some horrific acts of inhumanity without having that “catch up” to that person. Karma is a funny thing, you know?

You can kill a lot of things in this world. You can expose deep, dark secrets. You can distort truth and good. You can destroy innocence.

But the one thing you can’t kill, by accident or deliberately is hope.

At least, that is my “hope.”

And regardless, Mom’s right:

After everything else, only one thing truly matters:

how you loved and why.

Rest in peace the losses of the last 50 years and long live love and hope

Take care everybuddy,

MJC

Tuesday June 30, 2009

2009-06-30T13:47:00.009-05:00

Tragic figures are sometimes rooted in their own inability to help themselves so they surround themselves with enablers. This is true in the real world as it is true in literary fiction and motion picture. Any virtual representation of life or individuals faced with birth and death destined to deal with their own mortality in some real life milieu can be tragic or heroic.

The extremes of great power and it's use are displayed in "Sunshine Days," the second to the last episode ever broadcast in the nine year run of the television series, The X Files.

And that is precisely why I loved the series so much.

One of the creative forces of that series, Kim Manners, passed away recently, without the fanfare of an Ed MacMahon, a Farrah Fawcett, or even that of a Michael Jackson.

However his contribution to The X Files made the television program what it was and that was a combination of Kolchak: The Night Stalker meets Hill Street Blues meets Night Gallery.

If these pop cultural references mean nothing to you, then you are too young to know how cumulatively, if you were to combine those three shows, coming up with a television program like The X Files is a relatively easy concept to grasp.

If you know the television programs I am referring to, then you know what I mean.

What's troublesome is if you don't know how the opening remarks to this blog entry speaks to the recent cadiac arrest tragedy of superstar, Michael Jackson.

I'm not sure I can show you the connection from "A to B to C" that I made in my own mind tonight, (to quote Agent Doggett) as I watched "Sunshine Days" on the SciFi Network.

Timeline:

Michael Jackson appears in an 1992 interview with Oprah Winfrey discussing his lack of a proper or normal childhood and his relationship to his father and the beatings and ridicule he says he suffered at the hands of Joe Jackson.

Last week, Michael Jackson dies of sudden cardiac arrest on Thursday.

This week, Sunday night, Joe Jackson appears on the red carpet of the BET Awards with a business associate discussing a record company deal and or idea.

Monday morning, Joe Jackson, appears with the Reverend Al Sharpton and said business partner, again discussing a business proposition.

How can a person maintain a dignified image in the media without risk looking bad? i.e., Michael Jackson? Joe Jackson?

How is it the notion of possible impropriety in and of itself can mess things up badly for a person's public image?

Why are the Jackson family parents living separately?

And what of this whole "man-boy, hints and allegations of child molestations" dark cloud that had followed Michael Jackson since 1993?

What does one make of a childhood lost? Innocence lost? How does one handle subsequent maturity? Father issues?

What happens when you can no longer maintain any dignified presence in the media without being looked upon by the general public as someone who "skirted some pretty serious allegations" by the skin of one's teeth?

William Shatner's wife's drowning death.

O.J. Simpson and the double murder of his ex-wife and her friend.

Robert Blake.

The lines are murky. The truth is seldom fully known.

How can "image" be mishandled to such an extent? Whatever can and may be reported in the media regarding the controversial nature of the friends you keep or the behavior of your family or even mere accusation, you find that a healthy and well adjusted image in the eyes of those around you, your friends, co-workers and even the media is increasingly impossible based on giving up your own power to control your own destiny or fortify your own moral fibre or reputation.

All is lost apparently because of heresay, allegations, accusations and how you appear and how those around you appear to the outside world.

Who is the victim here? And how much of how you are seen or viewed is by your own hand your own doing?

Was there child molestation?

Was there impropriety?

Was "image" mishandled?

Did Michael trust too many people who were simply out to use him, including his own father?

Connecting A to B to C, here, folks.

And was the love and adulation he sought from his audience really worth losing himself in the process?

What of forgiveness? Of his father? Distancing himself but maintaining who he really was.

Was it worth it?

What price fame?

And when you do put yourself that one last time into that place everyone wants to be - for what you believe is love you can't find elsewhere - what does that do to your heart?

Tough questions.

No easy answers.

For Michael.

Or any of us.

Muy complicato.

The Meryl Streep character tells Anne Hathaway's character in The Devil Wears Prada, "Everyone wants to be where we are."

And the young assistant walks away. And so too, does the man with great power in The X Files episode walk away from his great power. . .

. . .to live.

Happy Tuesday.

MJC

Monday June 8, 2009

2009-06-09T01:53:00.004-05:00

I started thinking tonight about how we know who we are. In other words, I started thinking about “personal introspection,” and the benefit or detriment surrounding thinking about how we look, act and behave or are perceived.

Some folks go through their lives going, “I am yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam,” like Popeye and thinking to themselves, “Everyone else be damned, I am plowing forward full steam ahead with or without you bastards! Shit! You all don’t know JACK SQUAT anyways, I mean lookatchyas! Who do all the rest of y’all think youse are anyways? Knowing whatchas know, looking how youse look, acting how yas act, behaving like the rest of you do! Y’all gotta lotta nerve being yourselves, don’tchas?”

Some folks go through their lives going, “You know I don’t think periwinkle is my color. I honestly suspect the ‘reds’ are my true palette or browns or beiges. EARTHTONES! Definitely earthtones!”

Others still, look in the mirror and say, “I look pasty and blotchy and my tongue looks blue!” Not even thinking that it might have been the blueberry Pop-Tart that discolored their tongue.

Now I don’t want the Kellogg’s company all over me saying their blueberry Pop-Tarts do not color consumer’s tongues blue, because I don’t know for sure if the food coloring or food dye actually does that, I was making a hypothetical reference to a food that I know is blue, or at least the filling is blue, not knowing for sure if it does indeed color your tongue blue, trying to make a point.

I know those blue ices in the long plastic tubes you bite open with your teeth turn your lips blue, because Johnny Burke, in the old neighborhood, back in the day, always had blue lips and everyone knew Johnny was eating them “blue ices,” well because Johnny was a big boy and loved his sweets.

Which I am too and I do too, to this day.

I am not someone you would call slim. And like the above examples or the person overly concerned with what is their best color, or the hypochondriac looking at the whites of his eyes in the mirror, we pretty much know when we look into our mirrors that something’s wrong.

But, honestly now. Do mean-spirited and angry people know that they are mean-spirited and angry when they look in the mirror? Or are they simply thinking how funny the next insult is that they thought up to say to poor Melvin Dorkman or Grizelda Greasyhair tomorrow morning in the company lunchroom.

“Hey Dorkman! You read the bulletin about ‘being a dork on company time’?”

“Hey Grizelda! I understand you are a loyal customer to “Gee, You Hair Smells like Stinkfish,” but there are other shampoos, hon! There are other shampoos!”

Ok, those examples are extreme, quite frankly, but there are actually mean-spirited and angry people in this world who think it’s perfectly natural and normal to go around being mean-spirited and angry all the time pointing out other people’s shortcomings and modes of behaving that don’t quite seem normal to them and then berate and belittle these people in public because, well - being mean-spirited and angry all the time - shit like that is funny to them.

Which it is.

But it’s not right and it’s not fair and I think we all kind of get that.

So then, in defense of Mean-Spirited and Angry Person, then, it’s really not their fault Melvin and Grizelda are the way they are but it’s their duty and right to point it out to Melvin and Grizelda and to anyone else in earshot how abnormal they truly believe these people to be. Right?

Wonderful! Beautiful! A true crusader for normalcy.

Meantime Mean-Spirited and Angry Person is hiding skeletons and secrets in their closets that would be such a wonderful thing to expose, like cheating on their spouse. Flirting in a bar and trying hard to pick up a member of the opposite sex just days before their wedding, among a host of different and chilling quirks that are probably far more quirky than anything Melvin and Grizelda exhibit in their behavior.

At least Melvin and Grizelda pretty much know when they look in the mirror, don’t they, that they are overweight, look different or don’t wash their hair enough? Right?

But not Mr. or Ms. Mean-Spirited and Angry Person! Oh, no, not them!

Why can’t someone create a mirror for these people exposing to them to what truly loud-mouthed and inappropriate louts they really and seriously are?

Because I can pretty much know when I look in the mirror I probably should not have had that extra cheeseburger at lunch, but one can’t look in the mirror and see how black their heart truly is.

Sadly for them, neither can the Mean-Spirited and Angry Person see how truly black their heart is when they look in the mirror.

And neither can the people they victimize with their insults, comments and truly angry observations of the world.

And what does it accomplish or solve if Melvin and Grizelda tell our Angry Person, that they are angry and mean spirited or publically list for them the skeletons everyone knows they have but keep to themselves?

How does that kind of retaliation help anything?

It doesn’t.

So Melvin and Grizelda keep being dorks and outcasts overweight and our Mean-Spirited and Angry Person continues being a dick.

And I notice these things and buy another cheeseburger “shaking my head” at the injustice in the world thinking to myself,

“Dad was right. Keep the peace. Hold together. And love each other.” because life is short and no one likes to be told they are abnormal. Not even old pissed off jerks like our Mean-Spirited and Angry Person.

Because that may just tip it in for them. And then you know what happens.

They cause dissension, exclusion and bad feelings between people.

But if I buy one cheeseburger for any of the three:

Melvin,
Grizelda, or
Mean-Spirited and Angry Person

what’s the worst that can happen?

Either I’ve made a friend for life or I get called a jagwad because the happy meal didn’t have any finger puppets.

I can live with that!

:-)

I think if truly angry and mean-spirited people were truly shown what they are by looking in a mirror then I would not stop there. I’d want to have other great mysteries solved for me as well. Like Jon-Benet Ramsey, Jimmy Hoffa, O.J.Simpson and who put the bomp in the bomp-a-womp-a-lomp. . . .

I oughtta stop wishing right now, I think and live and let live.

:-)

Some things will never change and some mysteries are best kept secret.

:-)

Have a great day, all!

Signed yer lil pal

MikeyC

Thursday June 4, 2009

2009-06-04T21:04:00.005-05:00

Forever etched into my brain will be the CBNC logo behind Jim Cramer's head as I watched, tonight, the Jon Stewart Interview from March 13th of this year that aired on Comedy Central's Daily Show. Stewart's interview with Bob Woodward from a few days ago and Stewart's interview with P.J. O'Rourke are two ~OTHER~ Daily Shows I watched today on the 'Net as well.

I may have found my new hero. And once you build someone up like that, you know what's bound to happen. The same thing that happened to David Carradine in a Bangkok hotel room not 72 hours ago. Heroic media stars never do live up to the public's expectations of them, end up embittered missing their "glory days" and become "B" movie co-stars, usually playing some underlord baddie in a bunch of R rated soft-core porn movies that appear direct-to-cable on Cinemax at 11pm.

Which, incidentally, for you young people out there, does Cinemax still have that "feel" to it, late in the evening, whenever the whole wide world is fast asleep, that if you just turn on a little Cinemax after 11pm, you will see the Landers sisters, Audra or the other one who starred with Robert Urich in "Vegas", in various stages of disrobe in some gangland soft-core porn movie and everything will be alright with the world?

You'll lose sleep, stay up longer than you should and still feel like your cable television service is an incredible waste of money overall, but this Cinemax, I gotta keep!

I don't know. I got rid of my premium stations a long time ago, pre-Tony Soprano and post Sex in the City, somewhere around late 2000, early 2001.

(I regret not having premium stations, however when Curb Your Enthusiasm became popular. That's why I have a couple of seasons on DVD.)

But watching television, let alone cable, is not something I have invested any substantial time doing in a very long time. And I bet for a great many people in my generation - who are now addicted to the Internet and "googling" and "twittering", any kind of non-interactive entertainment of any kind has lost it's zest, it's appeal and yes, it's seedy, lurid ability to lure you and lull you into it's "message" and "massage."

I don't think I need it anymore. Not since they took my favorite shows off t.v. Ellery Queen. (Who remembers that television show?) Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Voyager and The X-Files.

I guess it's all about bending and breaking the rules and the "subversive" nature television took on somewhere between 1982 and 1984 when cable came to town in Chicago (. . .when we started having to pay for t.v.).

(And now we pay providers for the Internet.)

That's what the Internet is now. And interestingly enough, I got full episodes of Jon Stewart's The Daily Show today. So not only am I using a subversive, pay medium to watch pay-television, but I am also watching one of the most cutting-edge, political satire programs broadcast daily on pay-t.v. on my home computer.

It's tantamount to paying Will Rogers, perhaps, to come to your home and entertain you all day in 1915 or 1916. Like someone talking through the side of their mouth with their hand cupped whispering, "Hey bub! This is for you!" That's what happened sometime in last 17 or 18 years since folks realized the Internet is here and it's here to stay and you can find "ANYTHING" on this thing your little pea-picking heart desires! And more!

And that's where I found from March 13th, Jim Cramer's interview from Jon Stewart's Daily Show. Cramer first came to my attention, pre-6am FM talk radio, on the same radio station that aired Howard Stern here in Chicago just prior to Stern leaving for pay-satellite radio. Since Stern left and for however many years, Cramer has hosted a cable financial news entertainment show, Cramer has become a huge hit apparently for CNBC.

On March 13th, Jon Stewart took Cramer to task for his involvement with CNBC and his involvement with financial news and also took Cramer to task for calling his show "financial news and or financial news entertainment."

Bravo, Jon Stewart! That was one of the ballsiest moves I have ever seen in recent history and to think I was not watching on March 13th, makes me sick, but I was probably "googling" some useless information at the time or researching some goofy trivia I might have one time done for free in a library once. Who am I kidding? I never researched anything in a library except for things related to papers or school work.

It's not like I would think a thought about something and run to my campus library and research it. Or any public library for that matter. But we do that now, every time we are on our home computers, don't we?

Anyways, Jon Stewart went for the jugular in that interview and held Jim Cramer down like the toughest good guy holds the bully down in the schoolyard for the picked on child to kick in the balls. "Here you are folks, the one name and person associated with financial news and / or entertainment on CNBC today and I am not going to let him go until I take him to task for you. How dare CNBC give him a platform! How dare they allow him to sell himself as a financial and investment expert and analyst! How dare they call him credible!"

Guess what? Cramer and the marketplace he reports on: futures, commodities, bonds, stocks, investment banking, and any kind of capital investment that takes place in the financial industry in any of the multinational back office or trading facility worldwide, simply put, are what they are: businesses and businessmen out for the most they can get in the least amount of time for themselves and for their customer.

What happened to the marketplace happened, what happened to hundreds of thousands of people, happened - to their jobs, their investments, their 401 Ks and the value of their homes and no amount of brow-beating Jim Cramer as to why CBNC touts themselves as a credible financial news source when they broadcast Cramer speaking a "market lingo" to the average television viewer that they don't even understand is going to help the situation this county is facing right now.

It was great to see Stewart tell Cramer that the present situation this country is facing is about people's lives and it's money we're talking about here and very, very serious and not a f__king joke, was about the coolest television I never saw on television three and a half months later on Huffington Report archive website earlier this evening.

But Stewart's Woodward and O'Rourke interviews were another creature entirely. In the Woodward interview, Stewart spoke of Woodward's involvement on an ABC network television program entitled 2100, about the year 2100 and what experts predict the world will be like. (Bleak. Very bleak.) The O'Rourke interview and Woodward interview were both from earlier this week. Jon Stewart and P.J. O'Rourke discussed the death of the fascination our society has had with the automobile, like rebuilding and maintaining old cars, as some folks once may have enjoyed in this country.

For as political as The Daily Show is, is certainly seemed cutting edge to me, today, watching these three interviews and I look forward, between "googling" various and sundry meaningless information on the Internet, to catch this show again sometime.

Because it makes me feel "subversive" again. Because watch-dogging authority and challenging mainstream media messages and "massages" that lull us into complacency was never a bad thing to begin with. It keeps you sharp, alert and on your toes. Even if you have to pay to receive it, through cable or through the Internet.

Thanks Jon Stewart!

And thank you Internet for archiving this show!

Without either of you, I might be sitting in front of my t.v. having fallen asleep watching how cool David Caruso looks in sunglasses on one of those crime shows everyone's crowing about in the last few years, CIS, NCSI, Jag, SUV or some such goofy acronym.

Speaking of which, how did the networks get "standards and practices" to allow a program entitled "Jag" to get and stay on the air anyways?

Isn't that a derogatory slang term or insult, that by extension, should be part of George Carlin's "Seven Dirty Words You Can Never Say on Television"?

Isn't that very similar to having a t.v. program called. . . .never mind. I'll email you what I was thinking of writing here if you send me a request for the two acronyms I was thinking @ MikeC16958@gmail.com because I get that Jag stands for what? "Judge Advocate General," right? Well, what about a program called, "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge"? I mean the SVU one does tell you prior to every show that the stories are of a very specific type of crime, usually sexual in nature, so why not a new acronym and a new television crime show? For Free? On free t.v. That bends the rules and is a little subversive. Oh. . . .

because we have to pay for that! I get it now!

Maybe we can get Jon Stewart to take up this cause.

Because he may very well have become my new hero!

:-)

OK, folks. I am really not usually this straight-forward and stick to one subject as I did today. :-)

Sorry about that.

Nothing a cheeseburger can't cure!

:-)

If I had one.

Maybe if I invest of one of the hamburger chains endorsed by Jim Cramer, the price of fast food cheeseburgers would come down to a manageable price for me in these harsh economic times.

I think I better rethink that whole scenario. Maybe I ought to just step away from the computer, the cable-television, the political and financial news and stick to what I know. I think I still want a cheeseburger though. . . .even if I gotta pay for it.

:-)

HEY! Maybe I can get all of my comedy, political, financial and entertainment news about the latest Hollywood has-been hanging themselves on the wrapper of a cheeseburger!

Two birds with one stone!!!!

YAY!!!

If they can print a picture of your dog on an M & M, they can do anything!

I'm going to have to google that and see if anyone's come up with that idea and if not, copyright it!

What do you think?

Happy Thursday, folks!

yer little pal,

MikeyC

(OK, in all fairness, it's not right to call David Carradine a Hollywood has-been, because he holds a very dear spot in a lot of folk's minds for the character he played in both Kung-Fu series. But what a waste! And what a great t.v. show that was when it was first on. . . . .free t.v.! R.I.P. Amen.)

Tuesday May 26, 2009

2009-05-27T02:49:00.002-05:00

Pretty amazing stuff!

Thank you, Ronald!

Enjoy!

Friday May 15, 2009

2009-05-15T20:07:00.001-05:00

New Podcast per today. . . .Friday May 15, 2009

Enjoy!

Happy weekend all!

MJC

Friday May 8, 2009

2009-05-08T13:58:00.005-05:00

Laid to rest Sunday May 8, 2005
Beloved father, grandfather, husband
In our hearts always

Tuesday May 5, 2009

2009-05-06T00:53:00.002-05:00

Sunday May 3, 2009

2009-05-04T00:06:00.002-05:00

COURSE - Winning 101: A Very, Very Serious Look at Winning

With all the losers, ne’er-do-wells and mopes (coming in both genders) that this world has to offer, I have come to the conclusion, winning is where it's at to combat all that. We all need a new vibe, a new direction and I'm proposing, that's right, a little winning, might cheer everyone up in these harsh economic times!

Winning is the one single thing that surely turns a gray day, sunny. Winning can turn a frown upside down. Winning is a sure-fire guarantee to make the stressors of work-a-day life melt into uproarious and oftentimes hysterical laughter. Winning cures what ails you. Winning is key. Winning is important. Winning is winning. And you can look up at the newly erected (heheh, he said, “erected!” heheheh) Trump Tower in my home town, Chicago and see how precisely “everything” winning truly is! Ask Donald Trump how that feels, because he’s a real winner!

In the beginning, man didn't really know how to win. It was more about survival and reliance upon himself. And as more and more people were born and became alive and populated the Earth it was about propagation of the species. Sure, cavemen killed each other and their spouses and other neighboring cavemen over who had the most women, the most goats, the most sticks and twigs capable of creating fire, but hell, If you had women, goats, fire and a cave as well? Well then Mister, you were a winner!

But then all the rest of the loser cavemen realized they were all alone except for the keeper of the flame or the village witchdoctor or the 90 year old spinster cavewoman and ousted from the alpha cavemen’s village. That wasn’t winning, in their minds, it was being “ousted.” And being “ousted” became more important than winning. One only need to watch an episode of Celebrity Apprentice (another Donald Trump reference) to understand what winning was before winning was winning. You know, back in the day.

Winning was non-existent. Winning simply put, wasn't winning, in early times. A twig poked into someone's eye, clunking someone's head with a rock, setting a person's ass accidentally on fire while roasting bat meat were accidents once. Until someone decided ~THAT~ was another form of winning.

Being ousted and causing harm to others were early forms of winning. Before winning was winning. It was a jungle out there and you needed to oust and to maim in order to survive and to win. You couldn’t take anyone along with you because after a time, everyone else was trying to oust you too and pull your loin cloth up your butt crack in front of the whole village, which wasn’t an early form of winning but an early form of male bonding at the local watering hole not to mention funny as hell!

Someone decided embarrassment was a form of winning one day and that took all the fun out of male bonding and melvins, undy-grundies and pulling another caveman’s loin cloths up their poopers.

Early forms of winning then included ousting, clunking someone on the head with a rock and embarrasing them.

Not much fun for the person on the receiving end. But for the person testing out the impact of man's environment on man, it was probably historically a huge "win" for ancient man and their evolving into the noble, graceful, peace-loving creatures we know today.

I mean let's face it, being poked in the eye is never a “win” for the "pokee," but rather, is always a “win” for the "poker!" And to top it all off, it’s fun for the person doing the poking to boot, as they found out! It wasn’t, “Hey I committed this brutal act upon a fellow caveman,” it was, “Look how much fun it is taking away another person’s sight is. He can’t see, he can’t defend himself or hunt and he cannot run this village of cave-dwelling people with only one eye! Everyone else has two eyes! YAY! I win!”

Winning could have been a lot funner in ancient times if it weren't so brutal, as exemplified in the previous examples, but as one can see, winning started out as a threatening thing, as most new experiences do, until very soon after that. For a time winning experienced a manifestation of fun and a practical joke, and then winning became everything shortly after that. Who was the quickest, the strongest the fastest. Who burped the loudest, farted the smelliest, raped the villages and pillaged the women best. And let’s not forget to mention when killing became winning too. But mostly it was about who had the biggest hole in their cave to look out of and see the enemy coming. Because as Mel Brooks so aptly put it, “Whatever walked in front of the hole in your cave wall? ~THAT~ was television!

Which started off the whole “whoever has the nicest or most or whomever paid the best price for the most convenient material possessions wins” trend.

“Whoever has the most toys, wins!”

Then, after the practical joke and everything else became all about winning, winning was no longer fun. Early man had to think new ways to win because all the ancient ways to win were now ways to defeat your threatening opponent. OWNING LAND! KILLING! We’ll take away their land, if they own any or are alpha males in neighboring territories and we’ll KILL them to get it, too!

YAY!!!

Winning was winning again!!! All of a sudden, just when we thought we couldn’t find ways to win anymore, new and improved ways to win evolved just as man evolved and we started to realize, that, “Yes! It is all about winning!” Winning was wonderful again. And if you won, you were known to everyone as a winner!

Shortly after all the land was taken away from everyone and there became one winner who ruled over all. Shortly after that was when the Olympics were created. So that even losers of land wars - if they were still alive - could still feel like they won in javelin throwing, shot-put throwing and meaningless games of skill, strength and endurance. YAY!!!! I may not have my dignity in the face of my land owning brethren but if I can swim faster than any of them in an athletic competition where no one gets killed and no land rights are handed over, I can still be a winner!!!! But if I lose, my landowners feed me to the lions! :-)

So, here's to winning. Winning in having. Winning in the doing. Winning in being the best you can possibly be. Better than everyone else! Be a winner today! Do whatever it takes to win and you will see how much of a winner you truly feel you are. It’s great to feel like a winner! Everyone wants to win and everyone loves a winner! Any kind of winning you can get your oily, greasy, slimy mitts on in this God-forsaken world is better than losing any day of the week in my humble opinion and is time well spent. Because a day without winning is a day not even worth living, is it?

Make winning fun! Make losers out of others! Enlist your friends along the way in your winning in making losers out of others! Have fun with it! But above all else, win! Because as funny as this may sound, there's nothing like winning. Don't laugh! WINNING IS EVERYTHING! Isn’t it? I mean gosh! Even Donald Trump thinks so! So it must be true!

Winning may actually be more responsible for curing more health issues than diet, drugs or even death! And losing sucks! Experts say you cannot overdose on winning. Parents through the ages have also said, "Don’t let them win!" Didn't they always make it sound as if by losing you would be a loser for life? But quite honestly, people who are anti-winning probably wouldn't even know the utter joy of winning even if it smacked them in the face! Which would be a pretty funny thing in and of itself, don't you think? Winning can happen accidentally like that, too.

There are no “no win” situations in this world. You gotta make winning happen! Or get lucky to be smacked in the face by an accidental win.

I am a strong proponent of winning, so much so, that I consider everyone else against me in some way shape or form for all the spoils this world has to offer and all the winning I can attain - everyone else therefore is a loser because I want it all!

Except my loyal readers! You are all winners in my book! Because you are reading a winner!

So, in conclusion, win! The best kind of winning is a good, clean win, followed by good cheap win! If winning can be achieved cleanly as well as cheaply and no one gets hurt? That’s the best kind of winning there is! But if those don’t work, don’t forget about “ousting,” “harming,” “embarrassing,” “owning land,” “killing,” and finally, if none of those work, “winning in sports” as a last resort. DO whatever you got to do to win! Win! Win! Win!

Nothing worse than looking back on a life and thinking, "I could have won! There's nothing sadder than that!

Viva la winning!
Long live winning!
Winning is what it’s all about.
Be a winner!!!!

Because without any winning of any kind, we’re all losers!!!

And no one wants that!

Well even if you don’t win, there are still cheeseburgers.

You may not always win in life, but chances are you can always find a really excellent cheeseburger if you try hard enough!!! And that, my friend, is a “win” sometimes in and of itself! Even if you don’t win anything else. When you find a really good cheeseburger, well Mister, then you’re a winner in my book!

Sayonara, so long, seeya!
Win!
:-)

Wednesday April 22, 2009 (deux)

2009-04-22T11:52:00.003-05:00

The euphoria and quick fix of narcissism.

Hot button topic right now particularly with the Newsweek article published April 18th, having kicked up some rather much needed comeuppance for the Me Generation and those finding themselves living in what is called a current narcissism epidemic.

What this essentially means for this country and the world is that some of us are living under the assumption that we’re not unique just like the other 6 billion plus people spinning on this orb, it means that we truly are one in almost 7 billion and that we are entitled to be treated like an individual, separate, special and wholly unique from everyone else.

YAY!!!!

Don’t you just love the way that sounds? What all this means is that for the last however many years we have heard about the Me Generation, that now, however many years later, we are learning that there are consequences to that conceit. Isn’t that crazy? That’s crazy! I’ve never heard such a thing. That’s the craziest thing I have ever heard! Consequences to actions and attitudes. Go figure. Who would have thunk it? Not me!

How many times does a parent tell a child who comes home crying from being bullied at school, “They’re just jealous, honey!” rather than, “It’s a cold cruel world out there and you can’t control anyone else’s mouth or attitudes, you can only learn to suck it up and adapt.”

Again, as I have said since March of 2005 when this web log began, I am not here to be the moral arbiter of the Internet, I am not here to preach or bemoan my own lot in life, such as it is, but what I am here to do it exercise my right to free speech in a context that now, eighteen years later, since I arrived - has become one of the prevailing milieu in which humans on this planet exchange information or is fast becoming such.

Just as they predicted. Internet. Where everyone’s a star. Pffft! I’m no star. I’m a dork. A regular guy. A jamoke from the northwest side of Chicago with a need to express and I will go to my grave believing that fact.

Narcissism? Oh, I imagine there’s a modicum of narcissism in making public my private thought and opinion. Ego? Yes, I’ll give you that. But March signified four years doing this relatively consistently and if you add the Collective Journal from Moontown Café, and other prose and poetry uploaded there, I went back to writing five years ago last month.

Only difference is my writings are not in a loose leaf binder or a spiral notebook. They are in a database with a billion other web logs, poems, scribbling, rantings, family pictures, photographic manipulations and graphic arts. Let’s not forget my podcasts, either. A clearinghouse accessible to the public of however much of yourself you want to put out there. And I put it out there these last five years. Oh, yes, I did.

Narcissism? Ego? A need to express? What? What is this need? And how does ego play into all this? Does a little self deprecating humor diffuse the fact that since I cannot teach, I do?

And if I couldn’t do, would I teach?

What are these words? And who reads them and why?

Is this kind of expression merely four to five years of stroking my own ego or do I actually have something of merit or value to add to this clearinghouse and database by questioning myself publically in this manner?

I contend if it were all pure narcissism and ego, I would not be asking these questions. Rather, I would be telling people of my daring victories at climbing the corporate ladder for these last twenty-four years, writing self help books, teaching and preaching as to what I have found thus far in my life to be a proper way to live life.

After 9/11, Jay Leno came back to The Tonight Show and proclaimed what he does every night on that show is a “cookie” for the American public.

MikeyC says, my web log is a billionth of a crumb available to a small cross section of Internet users, with not all that much to say.

Documentation and expression.

Like an archivist.

But instead of words scrawled on paper, it’s saved electronically on this Blogger web site.

Listening to comedian Bill Burr’s Monday Morning podcast last week, he posed a valid question:

What would you do if you were dictator?

Well, isn’t that taking narcissism and ego to the Nth degree?

We are aren’t born with that much privilege and entitlement even though some of us think we are. It’s fun to think about, to be sure, but it’s also the rivermouth that flows into the sea of narcissism. And once you get there, sharks and choppy water abounds! All kind of peril surrounds you reminding you that your narcissism comes with a price.

In order to keep feeling good about yourself, while life is kicking you in the teeth, you will either brings those around you down with you or you will raise them up. You will learn humility and become humble or you will label yourself dictator - whether malevolent or benevolent - the choice is strictly up to you. You will kill everything around you in order to take advantage of fair winds and safe waters - until they arrive - or you will learn to adapt, hide, maneuver and size up precisely how humble and careful you should be or how powerful and self-important you want to appear and you should really take some of those around you with you, too.

Or you will live your life knowing full well you are just as unique as the other almost seven billion people on this planet and try to get along or you won’t.

I found it rather easy in my life, quite frankly, with all the bellyaching I did in these last 5 years expressing, documenting and archiving - placing material of myself on the Internet - to keep my head down, work hard at adapting and making my little life and those who came into it feel comfy, at home and to laugh.

(Will I stop doing so? Probably not.)

What was difficult and troublesome was where it all lead. (But there may not be a causal relationship there at all, really.)

Because for as much as I might brag and boast about what I know, how living life has effected me and if a bell tolls for me somewhere, all my skills, my humor, my personal character flaws and all, and my adapting to the fact I am not privileged, entitled or not deemed worthy, strong or qualified enough, I didn’t work hard enough, one thing remains:

Thinking you are privileged and entitled and maintaining the idea that life is easy and “I got this,” comes with a price.

But I never “had it” to begin with and I am now six months unemployed.

Somehow, somewhere fate is laughing at me, going, “Well just because you’re humble and courteous and different from the rest, doesn’t make you different at all.”

It just means I’m not cut-throat, a user, overly-conceited in my own self-worth and not willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top.

And that doesn’t make me different at all. Whether in one of those groups or in any other.

It just means I lack the fight and the drive to rise to the top like the others.

I’m doing it. Writing about it. I know the answers but I can only offer viewpoints. And most importantly I don’t believe any of my own bull--it!

Every so often “life happens” and from wherever my ego comes, however it manifests itself, whatever narcissism I may exude and exemplify, sometime, somehow and from somewhere - life will slap me down.

And I just got to deal.

Not so sure I’m doing a good job at that.

But I’m trying.

And one day I hope to understand all this.

Preferably before I have to stand on the off-ramp with a crumpled up Dixie Cup in my hand.

Happy Hump Day to anyone reading these words!

Yer lil pal,

MikeyC

Wednesday April 22, 2009

2009-04-22T10:11:00.003-05:00

Want to see Simon Cowell give someone a standing ovation? And see some incredible talent?

CLICK THIS! ---> You Tube Video

Happy Hump Day, folks!

MJC

Tuesday April 21, 2009 (deux)

2009-04-22T01:12:00.003-05:00

A blast from the past. Almost three years ago, now.

Enjoy!

MJC

Tuesday April 21, 2009

2009-04-22T00:48:00.002-05:00

One Moonlit, Starry Night

I cupped a moonlit, starry night
amid these fingertips
once held a heart, a gift so rare
pressed it to these lips

Inhaled a heady fragrance
shared with her in time
and in these arms, embraced a night
when all the world was mine

Heard a voice in whispers
a passion’s cry for more
once upon that blissful night
I begged the Lord for more

Dewy droplets steamy, hot
on bodies that we shared
a brown-skinned woman I came to know
on a starry night so rare

Blossomed forth before me
flower petals moist with dew
teased and flicked nocturnal dreams
sweet ambrosia in my view

And on that moonlit starry night
though I had loved her for so long
minds and hearts collaborated
in an fevered lover’s song

Delicate, deliberate
it glistened and it glowed
breath escaped her tender lips
and reached my mortal soul

Petals, droplets, frothy night
many moons and stars ago
once, scarlet was the shade of cheeks:
our fevered lovers' glow

Glitter flickered sweetly
on our shadows kissed with light
clenching passion, drowning darkness
using every ounce of might

Yet, amid these forlorn fingertips
when paradise was in sight
she slipped slow like sand
but was briefly held
on
one
moonlit,
starry
night

MJC
1/24/06
appearing @ www.moontowncafe.com

FINAL REVISION:
© MJC, 4/22/2009 12:07 AM

Tuesday April 7, 2009

2009-04-08T00:38:00.009-05:00

ED FREEMAN

Please click that link above to read Snopes dot com's research on this incredible man. It's true! I love when a plan comes together (like George Peppard on the A Team used to say) and I love when a story like the one above is true; and I will tell you why. :-) (But you knew I would anyways, no?) Click the link!

I worked at breakneck speeds with human reactions to changing commodity markets for 24 years in Chicago, and not once have I ever heard anyone say, "You know, the drought year of 1989 was really quite incredible and if it weren't for. . . . (name a broker in any pit) none of us would have gotten out alive," whereby I was ever really and truly impressed. Click the link!

Doesn't mean I didn't understand the milieu I was working in or appreciate it or respect it or value the impact it had on my paycheck twice a month. Didn't mean I don't respct what any of the brokers, traders or scalpers do. It just means what happens there can't compare to the kind of bravery mentioned in the above MILITARY story even though many people are want to compare the act of commodity trading face to face, as "war." Click the link!

There was however, a friend, and I will only do and say this once, because I did it on the first day of my blog in March of 2005 and I will do it again now. I am speaking of naming someone by full name in my blog. Sure I could complete this thought without using his full name. But, to only use his first name, would be like uttering a generic thing like "friend" when we, as caring, feeling humans, if nothing else, hold very special places in our hearts, for that generic term. We're usually "thinking of someone" special and different than mere acquaintances or strangers or people in passing we know, when we call them something like "friend."

But there was a friend, in the grain markets, that I made, in the years I was there, who did not go in and fly a helicopter like Ed Freeman did, but he did something very close to the equivalent precisely during the drought year of 1989 - a year many of those who remember it in the trading pits of Chicago - called "war."

And the behavior of the friend I am speaking about was remembered by one other person. . .at his funeral.

Mike Zyburt.

Mike's been gone for about 5 years now. And he died at around 41 or 42 years of age. In the time I got to know him, we joked, we laughed, we cried, we complained about the dunderheads and chuckleheads around us on the trading floor of the grain exchange and we spoke of how proud we were to try and maintain a grip on the quality control that we oversaw in our respective roles at our two different companies. Mike worked over the wall from me.

At Mike's visitation at the funeral parlor on the night I attended (there were two nights for him) there was an attendance of about a hundred people. And I'm sure just as many or more at the first night.

There we times on the trading floor, we'd notice how unruly and difficult people were being for no other reason than hang their immaturity upon someone else. The control of emotions on the trading floor of clerks at their desks was not something strictly enforced by some security guard coming over and telling you to settle your grievances in front of the conduct committee or breaking up verbal assaults. (People blurt out what's on their minds all too often down there - and it's not always sweetness and light.) I saw Mike insulted a bunch of times. I guess that may actually be how we "became" friends because some of that happened to me as well.

Sharp comments and the reactions they garner is, was and probably always has been handled by co-workers changing the subject, misdirecting attention and muddling through no matter how awkward that made the rest of a trading session. An emotion or insult or opinion was expressed. Boom! Done! Over! Finished! The market moved a penny and a half cents while verbal assaults and reactions are taking place all around you. Desks, pits, clerks, brokers, everyone reacting to everything. It's hard sometimes not to react to reactions. :-)

While standing at the honorarium that had been erected for Mike on a table containing family pictures and quotations from friends and family on numerous bulletin boards, I noticed one that reminded me of precisely, why, in the market conditions I describe above, particularly during a drought summer, in a grain exchange, where market prices fluctuated and rose and fell in fractions of instants - much in the same way the Dow has behaved for about six months to a year now - a guy's guy, like Mike, was remembered by someone to have played an integral role in the efficiency process of pit trading like no other clerk on a particular day of "war."

How happy I was to remember that day reading what this broker had taken the time to write about Mike.

Mike's desk's orders were coming to their house broker in soybeans in fistfuls at a time and his clerk could not keep up. Nor were the mostly freshy-face, poorly trained runners adept at what it was they were hired to do: deliver an order by hand as quickly as possible and get out of the trading pit. The broker was back-logged because the orders were coming in too quiickly to be properly filed for him to hold and execute.

Mike could see this from his company's desk, rushed into the pit, stepped into an extremely busy part of the trading pit, approached his broker who was very, very busy at the time and saw how in the heat of the trading battle, this poor man was floundering due to inadequate back up and support and quickly took charge, like Ed Freeman above. Click the link!

It was as if Mike and this busy broker were the only people in the trading pit for a short amount of time. You could hear Mike barking out orders:

"Fold that order properly!"
"Wait for the broker to accept it."
"Do you know how to put a deck in order? Then grab a hunk of orders now and help! And we'll combine them when you are done!"

Mike made a spectacle of himself. Doing what no other person would do in a support position to ensure the integrity of his broker and the integrity of the the burden put upon his broker - price wars: market situations as they were in those moments at that time and on that particular day.

He rose to an occasion and dealt very very well. Better than anyone I've probably even seen before or since.

And we lost Mike much too soon and I miss him today. But had it not been for the honorarium quotation from his house broker appearing on one of many bulletin boards erected in Mike's honor that day at his visitation at the funeral parlor, I would have all but forgotten that day. But I didn't. Because his house broker didn't either.

When I read it, I remembered and was glad to have personally known the man. For that and many, many other reasons which I can't go into right now.

Needless to say, those same kinds of market conditions are slowly becoming a thing of legend and passing by the wayside as the markets become more and more directed by computer trading and price movement based on the click of a mouse rather than open outcry or hand signal.

But back when it ~WAS~ war, the grain exchange in Chicago had its own seemingly every day average Joe show courage and strength and "valor" and showed EVERYONE what it means to "rise to the occasion."

Not militarily. but as a clerk and runner and emergency broker assistant and in a lot of other ways, too - Mike was a good soldier.

I miss you tonight, buddy, as I write these words.

Rest in peace, old friend.

:-)

Click the link!

Happy Wednesday everyone!

Friday April 3, 2009

2009-04-03T19:58:00.000-05:00

LIMERICK

Mr. Jablowmi to his young son Haywood said, "Ack!"
when he was told of his son's classmate's attack
"Son, your classmate's insults and badness
cannot compare with the sadness of your
young friend Harold with the surname Balzak."

4/2/09
MJC

:-)

happy weekend everyone!

Monday March 23, 2009

2009-03-23T23:16:00.007-05:00

This picture was taken of my second attempt at my speed drill in bartender's school from last week Tuesday. There is an error in it and I had been averaging anywhere from 11:38 to 8:20 in the 8 to 10 tries I had from Tuesday to late in the day Thursday, but I guess I must have pulled it out of my ass somehow, someway. I still can't believe it: 7:25!!! All the glassware, garnishes, ingredients correct. YAY ME!!!

The error? An Alabama Slammer is served in a Collins glass! Doh! By Thursday I realized what I had done and had corrected it in time, thanks God! :-)

The way this is set up is as if 5 huge cocktail orders were being placed and you had to get them all out in under eight minutes or less comprised of:

1. Cosmopolitan Martini
2. Perfect Manhattan
3. Long Island Iced Tea
---
4. Tom Collins
5. Sex on the Beach
6. Alabama Slammer
---
7. White Russian
8. Golden Margarita
9. Vodka Gimlet
---
10. Rusty Nail
11. Godfather
12. Cape Cod
---
13. Cognac
14. 4 Hollywoods (Shooters)

You could practice all you wanted to but you could only be officially timed by the instuctor once. Some students tried to beat their own time.

One instructor, did the speed drill twice. Once for our class and again I saw him do it for another. He initially did his speed drill for us in 7:10 but was talking his way through it and giving us short-cuts so we would not have to touch the same bottle twice. The second time he started the same, spilled half a bottle of cranberry juice all over himself and only lost 9 seconds. 7:19 the second time. That was incredible to watch!!! I actually helped mop up in the middle and refill his cranberry juice for him. Yeah, I know. I'm a suck-up, right? Heh! :-)

And so it went. Seven minutes and twenty-five seconds on Thursday and received a 97 out of a possible 100 points on my written final today. Drink recipes, drink identification, popular terminology, bartending customs followed in most every bar, tavern or restaurant, codes of ethics, etc.

(I did not take the accelerated course however: 8 hours a day in 5 days. I did the four hours a day over two week one.)

We also covered things like draught beer and connecting and cleaning beer lines, refrigeration and line and valve pressure as well as wine identification, also covered in my two weeks.

So I am also BASSET certified (google it) in the statutes and laws of Illinois alcohol serving, passed my speed drill, my written exam and received my diploma today. I was so excited I stopped at Walgreen's and bought a certificate frame on my way home from class today. :-) :-) :-) Framed that diploma immediately! heheh

Have a great week all!

Bottom's up!
And drink responsibly!

MJC

Sunday March 15, 2009

2009-03-15T23:43:00.002-05:00

HEY! HEY! I made the urban dictionary!!!

(I just found this today! They never notified me!)

Check out defintion three (#3) of the word "buttress!"

YIPPEE!!!!!!

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=buttress

Have a great week everyone!

MJC

Sunday March 8, 2009 (deux)

2009-03-09T00:14:00.000-05:00

An article from The New York Times Sunday magazine a few months ago on the architecture of Second Life.

The first page has 3 images but in this Macromedia Flash Animation page on the web, be sure to see that there is more: in the clickable links in the upper right hand corner, you navigate through a thoroughly interesting article about one of the metaverses (Home, There, Second Life), specifically Second Life, existing right now in the ether of cyberspace.

Some thoughts about the article.

Interesting reading all around.

Have a great week all!

Sincerely,
MikeC
aka
The Scribe
Mordock Karillion

Sunday March 8, 2009

2009-03-08T18:52:00.002-05:00

I did mine today; below are the results. Interesting. . . .

Birthday Calculator

11 July 1962
Your date of conception was on or about 18 October 1961 which was a Wednesday.

You were born on a Wednesday
under the astrological sign Cancer.
Your Life path number is 9.

Your fortune cookie reads:
A member of your family will soon do something that will make you proud.

Life Path Compatibility:
You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.
You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1 & 5.
You may or may not get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 2, 7 & 11.
You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 8 & 22.

The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2437856.5.
The golden number for 1962 is 6.
The epact number for 1962 is 24.
The year 1962 was not a leap year.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/5/1962 and ending 1/24/1963.
You were born in the Chinese year of the Tiger.

Your Native American Zodiac sign is Woodpecker; your plant is Wild Rose.

You were born in the Egyptian month of Paopy, the second month of the season of Poret (Emergence - Fertile soil).

Your date of birth on the Hebrew calendar is 10 Tammuz 5722.
Or if you were born after sundown then the date is 11 Tammuz 5722.

The Mayan Calendar long count date of your birthday is 12.17.8.14.12 which is
12 baktun 17 katun 8 tun 14 uinal 12 kin

The Hijra (Islamic Calendar) date of your birth is Wednsday, 8 Safar 1382 (1382-2-8).

The date of Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 22 April 1962.
The date of Orthodox Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 29 April 1962.
The date of Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent) on your birth year was Wednesday 7 March 1962.
The date of Whitsun (Pentecost Sunday) in the year of your birth was Sunday 10 June 1962.
The date of Whisuntide in the year of your birth was Sunday 17 June 1962.
The date of Rosh Hashanah in the year of your birth was Saturday, 29 September 1962.
The date of Passover in the year of your birth was Thursday, 19 April 1962.
The date of Mardi Gras on your birth year was Tuesday 6 March 1962.

As of 3/8/2009 7:50:31 PM EST
You are 46 years old.
You are 560 months old.
You are 2,435 weeks old.
You are 17,042 days old.
You are 409,027 hours old.
You are 24,541,670 minutes old.
You are 1,472,500,231 seconds old.

Celebrities who share your birthday:
Marie Serneholt (1983) Lisa Rinna (1965) Suzanne Vega (1959)
Mark Lester (1958) Leon Spinks (1953) Giorgio Armani (1934)
Tab Hunter (1931) Yul Brynner (1920) E.B. White (1899)
John Quincy Adams (1767)

Top songs of 1962
I Can't Stop Loving You by Ray Charles Big Girls Don't Cry by Four Seasons
Sherry by Four Seasons Roses Are Red by Bobby Vinton
Peppermint Twist by Joey Dee & the Starliters Telstar by Tornadoes
Soldier Boy by Shirelles Hey! Baby by Bruce Channel
Duke of Earl by Gene Chandler The Twist by Chubby Checker

Your age is the equivalent of a dog that is 6.67005870841487 years old. (You're still chasing cats!)

Your lucky day is Monday.
Your lucky number is 2 & 7.
Your ruling planet(s) is Moon.
Your lucky dates are 1st, 10th, 19th, 28th.
Your opposition sign is Capricorn.
Your opposition number(s) is 8.

Today is not one of your lucky days!

There are 125 days till your next birthday
on which your cake will have 47 candles.

Those 47 candles produce 47 BTUs,
or 11,844 calories of heat (that's only 11.8440 food Calories!) .
You can boil 5.37 US ounces of water with that many candles.

In 1962 there were approximately 4.2 million births in the US.
In 1962 the US population was approximately 179,323,175 people, 50.6 persons per square mile.
In 1962 in the US there were approximately 1,523,000 marriages (8.5%) and 393,000 divorces (2.2%)
In 1962 in the US there were approximately 1,712,000 deaths (9.5 per 1000)
In the US a new person is born approximately every 8 seconds.
In the US one person dies approximately every 12 seconds.

In 1962 the population of Australia was approximately 10,846,059.
In 1962 there were approximately 237,081 births in Australia.
In 1962 in Australia there were approximately 79,090 marriages and 7,245 divorces.
In 1962 in Australia there were approximately 93,163 deaths.

Your birthstone is Ruby

The Mystical properties of Ruby

Ruby is said to open one's heart to love.
Some lists consider these stones to be your birthstone. (Birthstone lists come from Jewelers, Tibet, Ayurvedic Indian medicine, and other sources)

Carnelian

Your birth tree is

Fir Tree, the Mysterious
Extraordinary taste, dignity, cultivated airs, loves anything beautiful, moody, stubborn, tends to egoism but cares for those close to it,rather modest, very ambitious, talented, industrious uncontent lover, many friends, many foes, very reliable.

There are 292 days till Christmas 2009!
There are 305 days till Orthodox Christmas!

The moon's phase on the day you were
born was waxing gibbous.

Thursday March 5, 2009

2009-03-05T13:33:00.000-06:00

This, my friends, is whatcha call one of four (oh, yes! Four!) "perfect" tostadas that I made and subsequently ate today!

:-)

Wednesday March 4, 2009

2009-03-05T00:37:00.005-06:00

Let me ask you something? For how long do I have to hear about this woman and her chimpanzee? For the love of God, media? How long?

Look, I'm not trying to be insensitive here, but Jiminy Christmas!!! Yes, the chimp attacked her friend. Yes, she has waffled about giving the chimp Xanax. Yes, she admitted to stabbing it with a butcher knife and will always think of him fondly but did what she felt she needed to save her friends life. How about busting the little 200 pound Simian in the head with something really, really heavy like a cinder block?

What things happened in the first few moments of that attack that prevented the friend from running for their life or the owner from not being able to do anything besides stab it? I mean this poor woman is mutilated for LIFE!

I know practically all of the particulars of this story without it even effecting me in some kind of personal way except to say that the particulars of this story are truly gruesome and horrific. And that does effect me. Especially hearing it over and over and over again. The facts of the story make you physically shudder each and every time you hear them. No?

But the actual horrifying part is the news that comes today about what body parts were brutalized in the attack of this owner's friend, the poor woman who did nothing more than try and play with it a little - by shaking a stuffed animal in front of it. Oh, and she changed her hairstyle a little.

I know nothing about chimpanzees, or how to care for them and what makes them different from the rest of the monkey species, but quite frankly, when I think of "Pleasant Valley Sunday" suburbia and pets that one might see when walking the streets of say, Schaumburg, Illinois, for example, the first thought that crosses my mind should be a yellow Labrador retriever with a red bandanna around it's neck named, "Buddy" and not a friggen chimpanzee that the Peterson's bought home from a "going out of business sale" at Schmenkie's Animal Circus in Baraboo, Wisconsin, for crying out loud!

Or a snake. Or a tarantula. Or any one of a host of exotic pets that people have been purchasing and owning since the "Me" Generation starting having their say in all this.

I don't know this woman that was on the Today Show who owned the chimp. I know nothing of her life. But why do I have to now know so much about about how adorable her pet truly was and how warm and wonderful their relationship was before this insanely psychotic and terrifying wild animal spree too place?

That's like telling me Jeffrey Dahlmer was a real sweet kid. Or Charles Manson had a knack for writing some deep and insightful poetry. Or Hitler called his mother every Sunday.

Why am I supposed to care?

Let me ask you something? If I was your adult son or your next door neighbor or your co-worker and I said to you, "I'm buying a chimpanzee," what would you say? Particularly now after having heard this story?

Oh sure, we've seen them on the zany adventures of Lancelot Link where television show producers thought it would be funny if "we dressed apes up like humans and built this whole story around them. All we have to do is get them to behave for us in front of the camera in certain ways. There are trainers out there that do that kind of thing, right?"

And this woman comes to mind. From this recent headline. This grisly mutilation that occured to her best friend. Who is now in danger of never, never, ever getting beyond this horrifying ordeal. Let's not even talk of the mutilation. The recent headline on AOL.com tonight speaks of brain damage from her injuries for this poor woman now.

"Oh look! He looks just like like Humphrey Bogart! He's drinking a high ball and smoking a cigarette. Isn't he cute?"

"He's appearing in Old Navy commercials. God that monkey really cracks me up!"

He's a wild animal!

He could drive, use a computer and used to sleep and bathe with his owner.

A wild animal, ladies and gentlemen!!! A sub-species. A monkey. An ape. A chimpanzee. Whatever! Why does this surprise ANYONE - not the least of which, his own owner?

What part of "wild animal" aren't we getting? Makes you want to go right out and get some exotic animal for a pet, doesn't it? Like a bear. Or a tiger. Hello? Zeigfried and Roy? Anyone? Ring a bell?

"But they're so cute, especially when they're little!"

Let me ask you something. How is a snake or a tarantula or a fricking ferret - with razor sharp teeth - cute?

The particulars of this recent tragedy are out there. And you cannot be a thinking, caring, feeling individual without having been touched by them in some really base kind of way. Some people haven't even heard about this story. Others, more media savvy and media conscious, have been quite literally bombarded with this information every time they turn on CNN. Some folks may heard of it in passing, maybe not even in papers or t.v. but from a friend.

Huge Story.

Exotic animals as house pets who turn wild on their owners and end up mauling their owner's best friend or killing the owner themselves.

No really?

Stuff like this happens with ~~~WILD ANIMALS~~~????? Really?!?!?!? Nooooooo!!!!

I have an opinion about any person, not choosing a dog, a cat, a goldfish, some bird like a parakeet or something, a turtle. but not a snapping turtle or any reptile or amphibian or any pet for that matter that can hurt you much - any person not choosing from the normally chosen "household pet group" or any person that owns an exotic pet to be smarmy, ahead of the crowd or to even be the slightest bit trendy, fashionable, and different. I have an opinion of people like this.

I think they should have their puny little trendy brains lobotomised, first, then after they heal, they should be lead into the wilds of Africa or Tunisia or Guatamala or New Guinea or wherever and shown a host of exotic animals from which they'd can choose to be their pets in their own home! But they have to try and take the animal away themselves from it's WILD ANIMAL mother. Themselves. All alone. Bare-handed. No help. No tranquilizer guns or darts. Just take the wild animal with the same basic natural instincts with which this deluded woman thought she could civilize this animal and bring it home all by themselves. And let's see what happens. :-) :-) :-)

But I don't mean that in a bad way. . . .

(tip of the hat to Dom Irrera.)

But hey! That's just me, you know?

:-) :-) :-)

Happy Thursday, all.

MJC

Saturday February 28, 2009

2009-02-28T13:32:00.001-06:00

TODAY Saturday February 28, 2009

NEW TIME!!!

Saturday, 3:00pm - 5:30pm (SLT) Second Life Time, 5:00pm - 6:30pm (US, Central Savings Time)
Club Neptune, Angel Shark Shallows (Second Life)

SIMULCAST:
WESBITE URL: http://TheStreamteam1.serverroom.us:4178
or
http://38.96.148.16:4178

Join me, Mordock Karillion for an hour and a half of my music, my way - hopefully your music, your way, too! Sing along, dance or just have a listen.

Thanks, everyone! :-)

Sincerely,
Mordock Karillion in
Second Life

(aka MikeC)
MikeC16958@gmail.com, or
mordockkarillion@ gmail.com

P.S. Any question or comment concerning this simulcast or any song requests please use the email addresses list immediately above this post script.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Tuesday February 24, 2009 (deux)

2009-02-25T01:42:00.001-06:00

Pretty cool documentary. Thank you Craig for sending me this!

Tuesday February 25, 2009

2009-02-24T12:58:00.001-06:00

This guy is BRILLIANT!

Please watch.

Monday February 16, 2009

2009-02-16T06:45:00.001-06:00

The representation of the written word. The representation of the printed word. The representation of the spoken word. Let’s not even talk about numbers as the printed word so much because numbers would include a basic understanding of math or some system of currency.

It always struck me as odd how many different types of ways words in a readable form come to us. Street signs inform and instruct as do text books. Artistic conglomerations such as prose and poetry.

Snail mail and bills are something different than the others and are more immediate and inform and instruct and persuade us to action with advertisements, receipts and information as to what we owe.

Carrier pigeons with tiny little scrolls tied to their feet flew messages from place to place, person to person and then morse code transmissions sent a representation of the written word via wires. And in the last 18 years, going on 19, (in my life anyways) the transmission of text via a cathode ray tube or LCD or other viewing screen other than a television.

Cold hard words that you read. Not ones you hear spoken and that you hear; rather the ones you read with your eyes and from which you distill meaning.

The meaning we distill from words nowadays can also signify immediately a personality living in the present moment and interacting with us as text and printed readable words come to us via the computer in ways similar to the ones mentioned above and yet nothing inherently changes about the little letters we see before our eyes as we read.

But we place immediate significance upon the words and attach to them meaning and a personality.

Bringing Morse Code into the 21st century. There are no little dits and dahs we must decipher a complex representations or zeroes and ones now are encoded into readable text and sent via a viewing screen not through a wire with sound: not ears to brain but rather eyes to brain.

How far we’ve come from chiseling word into granite and stone.

BOOM!

Zeroes and ones.

Artificial intelligence and artificial interaction versus real human interaction.

HAL is 2001, A Space Odyssey.

Transformers.

Those little spiders in that Tom Selleck / Gene Simmons movie twenty years ago.

Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

You laugh, but, how long until complete socialization with the actual agent facilitating socialization?

“How are you today?”

Who asked you this question? MikeC or the computer you are looking at to read these words?

That’s why the “message” we receive from the “medium” we use to facilitate whatever means with which we fabricate or manufacture socialization is as Marshall McLuhan said it would become: the “massage.”

And internet chat via the computer also.

Socialization facilitated through technology that removes us from the human experience.

And the future:

Socialization facilitated through technology with the technology iteself.

It starts with a love affair with the a book, travels to a love affair with the “boob tube” and ends with the computer geek.

If Arthur C. Clarke, the man responsible for 2001: A Space Odyssey can write in “1984, A Choice of Springs”, we will soon send reporters in the field with tiny laptop microcomputers and small satellite devices to uplink complete and total autonomy outside of broadcast television cameras and links and a short seven years later, albeit crappy technology we have reporters in Baghdad, broadcasting immediate images to us via computer web cam from hotels less than a mile away from actual bombing, how far off was Clarke?

And we recently lost him.

Who among us stands as our visionary now? Preaching and pointing a finger at us and wagging it in our faces and telling us of all the technological marvels and wonders we may see before we die and telling us to shape up before it’s too late?

Not me.

I’m into “Second Life” now and have a so-called, “avatar”. It interacts with other avatars: human representations drawn graphically, computer generated entities that interact via their puppeteers in a program chatting, interacting, dancing, walking, running, driving vehicles, building home, houses, night clubs, office buildings, sitting standing, swimming, innertubing, kissing, holding hands and yes, having sex.

Who soon until an avatar responds from a bank of responses written into it’s code and completely independent of it’s puppeteer?
And given human shape and form, like a robot?

I’m not talking about that little robot dog Sony made a few years ago.

I’m talking Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

How soon?

How long must we wait for something like that?

AI

Artificial Intelligence.

And do we really want that?

Will anything ever COMPLETELY replace face to face, warm, human contact, interaction, communication and socialization?

Yeah, I dunno.

I’m only here to ask the stupid questions.

:-)

Happy Birthday to my sister today. Please keep her in your prayers as she is facing health issues and have a great week everbody!

Sunday February 8, 2009

2009-02-09T03:56:00.004-06:00

Rock, Paper, Scissors (RPS)

Rant:

I understand how scissors can beat paper, and I get how a rock can beat scissors, but there’s absolutely no way, paper can beat rock. Is paper supposed to magically wrap around rock and leave it immobile? Why, the heck, can’t paper do this to people? Why aren’t sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they take notes in class? I’ll tell you why! Because paper can’t beat anybody. A rock would tear that stuff up in 2 seconds. When I play rock, paper, scissors, I always choose rock. Then, when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper, I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oops,
I’m sorry, I thought your paper would protect you.

–Author unknown
many thanks to LaylAmoure Latte for this funny rant and quote.

Doing a ton of research this morning on this rant and not coming up with any definitive origins of this rant, it is my conclusion that it did come from somewhere: I’m just not sure where. Chicken egg. You know?

And anyways, Wikipedia and all these places say there is now fire, water, Spock, lizard and dynamite?

So it becomes, rock, paper, scissors, dynamite, fire, water, Spock, lizard?

Can someone explain to me without copping the imagination and flexibility argument of innocent youth as to why we need the additions of Spock, lizard, dynamite, fire and water to rock, paper, scissors, please?

And while you’re at it, ask Don Gorski, from Wisconsin, who’s eaten two Big Macs a day (and kept the wrappers and boxes) for the entire time Big Macs have been available (And I’m assuming old Don’s still alive as of this writing) if two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun and having five more ingredients such as tomato, mustard, bacon, lizard and Spock would make him feel about his simple, yet favorite obsession?

Why mess up a good thing? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Why mess with perfection? Leave it alone! Don’t change it! What’s a matter with people nowadays? Three things aren’t enough?

Incidentally you can only use dynamite once in your entire lifetime. I’m not even sure how fire, water, Spock, lizard and dynamite play into this whole magilla.

But quite frankly. I think they should have decided with a fair and equitable way, a very immediate and simplistic way to settle the question of bringing these extra items into rock, scissors, paper.

Russian roulette.

You blow your head off. They’re in! You get a “pass”, they’re out!

That’s seems like a very simple and mature way to settle a dispute doesn’t it?

That’s one less choice than the three in rock, paper, scissors. (Or however many there are now. Sheezus!)

Russian Roulette? There’s only two choices!

Just our luck someone will say instead of bullets we put Pez or Gummy Bears a half eaten really sharp-edged piece of a Dorito or a lizard in the gun.

No?

Sonuva. . . . .!

MJC

Saturday January 31, 2009

2009-01-31T14:43:00.001-06:00

Saturday, 1:30 - 3:00pm (SLT) Second Life Time, 3:30 - 5:00pm (US, Central Savings Time)
Club Neptune, Angel Shark Shallows (Second Life)

SIMULCAST (CORRECTION): http://TheStreamteam1.serverroom.us:4178
or
http://38.96.148.16:4178

Join me for 1.5 hrs of music from the stone age to the present.

Happy weekend, folks!

Saturday January 31, 2009

2009-01-31T14:39:00.001-06:00

Tuesday January 27, 2009

2009-01-28T01:25:00.002-06:00

Perfect Places

the air between my feeling
and the air between our faces
the only room to catch my breath
one of life's true saving graces

It's safe there, warm and honest
you're beautiful and pure
and that space is our true haven
where hope and faith endure

the air between my feeling
and the air between us two
gives me time to pause, to think, relfect
on how I feel for you

for whene're the air is lessened
by how much closer we may get
I lose all my objectivity
my mind becomes beset

with breathing and with air
and what happened to the spaces?
that kept us who we truly are
and in our rightful places

the air between my feeling
and the air between our faces
gives me back my sanity
and takes us out of stasis

for to come together, join together
in those airy places
is to lose ourselves in love, my dear
overwhelmed by our embraces

so, the air between our feelings
and the air between our faces
should remain a place of catching breath
one of life's true perfect places

It's safe there, warm and honest
you're beautiful and pure
and that space is our true haven
where hope and faith endure

Wednesday January 28, 2009
1:20am

Friday January 23, 2009

2009-01-23T21:29:00.003-06:00

Tomorrow, Saturday January 24, 2009

Saturday, 1:30 - 3:00pm (SLT) Second Life Time, 3:30 - 5:00pm (US, Central Savings Time)
Club Neptune, Angel Shark Shallows (Second Life)

SIMULCAST:
WESBITE URL: http://TheStreamteam1.serverroom.us:4178
or
http://38.96.148.16:4178

Join me, Mordock Karillion, for an hour and a half of my music, my way - hopefully your music, your way, too! Sing along, dance or just have a listen.

Thanks, everyone! :-)

Sincerely,
The Scribe
Mordock Karillion
Second Life
No Drama Clan

(aka MikeC)
MikeC16958@gmail.com, or
mordockkarillion@ gmail.com

Tuesday January 20, 2009

2009-01-21T01:27:00.001-06:00

God bless the presidency.

'Nuff said!

Friday January 16, 2009

2009-01-17T01:40:00.001-06:00

CORRECTION: Gig News!!!
Saturdays, 1:30 - 3:00pm (SLT) Second Life Time, 3:30 - 5:00pm (US, Central Savings Time)
Club Neptune, Angel Shark Shallows (Second Life)

(CHANGE) SIMULCAST:
WESBITE URL: http://TheStreamteam1.serverroom.us:4178
or
http://38.96.148.16:4178
Join me, Mordock Karillion, (gig # 3) playing some of my favorite music from the stone age to the present for an hour and a half of my music, my way - hopefully your music, your way, too!
Sing along, dance or just have a listen.

It would mean a lot to me if you would show up!

Sincerely,
The Scribe
Mordock Karillion
Second Life
No Drama Clan

(aka MikeC)
MikeC16958@gmail.com, or
mordockkarillion@ gmail.com

P.S. If at the precise time you load this page it does not have streaming audio. . . please reload a few times and you should hear "the voice of the Scribe."

Thursday January 15, 2009

2009-01-15T14:50:00.001-06:00

Gig News!!!

Saturdays, 1:30 - 3:00pm (SLT) Second Life Time, 3:30 - 5:00pm (US, Central Savings Time)
Club Neptune, Angel Shark Shallows (Second Life)

SIMULCAST:
Website URL = http://TheSongster.serverroom.us:9442
or http://38.96.148.39:9442

Join me, Mordock Karillion, (gig # 3) playing some of my favorite music from the stone age to the present for an hour and a half of my music, my way - hopefully your music, your way, too!
Sing along, dance or just have a listen.

It would mean a lot to me if you would show up!

Sincerely,
Mordock Karillion
(aka MikeC)
MikeC16958@gmail.com, or
mordockkarillion@ gmail.com

Friday January 9, 2009

2009-01-09T01:59:00.003-06:00

Saturday January 10th, from 2-3PM, (Second Life time) 4-5PM (Central Time) I play an hour long simulcast (under the alias Mordock Karillion) of some of my favorite music at a live remote in Second Life at a place called Club Neptune (at Angel Shark Shallows), using "The Dealer, Jen Noel's audio stream.

I cannot begin to say enough about Jen's generosity and charitable spirit! Please become a Jen's Junkie today, to hear her wonderful sets of music throughout Second Life.

My hope is to play many, many more of these kinds of venues and to simulcast on the web, through your web browser at http://TheSongster.serverroom.us:9442 for your listening pleasure within Second Life and for those listening on the world wide web.

Stay tuned to this web page for more details on all upcoming gigs of mine.

Second Life Quote of the Week:

Overheard in Scoutlounge:

"There is a line between casanova and supernova I do wish not to cross."

-- Snap Fhang, poet/electrician, 01/09/09

til the next time. . . .

Take Care everybuddy!

M

P.S.

This is Mordock Karillion, my alter ego on Second life and my friend, my closest confidant and a dear sweet lady-friend of mine, as well as just mah cartoon honey (In SL), Aurore Dreamscape. The time has come to show Mordock's face to the world! heheh

Thursday January 8, 2009

2009-01-08T13:58:00.004-06:00

On a subatomic level, there exists in all of us motivations and perceptions. Depending on the face or faces you show to the world is how you act out your motivations and perceptions. How your motivations might be distilled from the behaviors you exemplify is not an exact science. No one ever truly knows what another might be thinking and feeling, what motivates them and what they perceive. We only have ourselves to go by and our bank of experience in whatever point we are in our lives to guide us.

From sentience to death we are all awash in a miasma fraught with questions. “How do I work this? What does this mean? Why am I here? Who do I love? Who loves me? How can I keep surviving given the societal constraints I must conform to?”, among many, many others. On a very primitive and basic level, and as I have told many people in the last few years, “All I really need is a cave near a running stream, some plant and animal life around, a burlap mat and a candle or ten.”

While an admirable a thing as that is to say, and lucidly and cogently conveying the least amount necessary to be able to live and survive - it’s quite naive in a world as plentiful as this to think that is all I would really need. Because as our environment expands and our minds expands, and we discover we can change ourselves if we conform to the material available to us in our environment and use it to our advantage - sociologists, psychologists and philosophers are always quick to point out it is no longer about our needs, then, but it is a combination of our needs and wants.

On some higher plane above subatomic but co-existing within the physical and virtual exists needs and wants which fuel motivations. Depending on the face you show to the world is how you act out your wants and needs. How your needs may be distilled from the behaviors you exemplify is not an exact science. No one ever truly knows what another might be needing and wanting, what is sufficient or necessary and how they perceive the extent of these perceptions and motivations. We only have ourselves to go by and our bank of experiences in whatever point we are in our lives to guide us.

From sentience to death we are all awash in a miasma fraught with questions. “What do I really need? What do I want? How much is too little? How much it too much? What’s just enough? Will I always need more? Will I always want more? Will I ever just be satisfied?”, among many, many others. On a very basic and primitive level, and as I have told many people in the last few years, “All I need is what I have and a wee bit more.”

While an admirable a thing as that is to say, and lucidly and cogently conveying the last amount necessary to be able to live and survive - it’s quite naive in a world as plentiful as this to think that I may never need or want more. Because as our perceptions become broader, different things may motivate us, in such a materialistic world as this and our motivations take on moral and ethical consequences - if you are so inclined to have that compass within you. We can change ourselves by changing the way we think. Sociologists, psychologists and philosophers are always quick to point out how wonderful a thing is for modern man to know and to fully realize and implement into one’s skill set and into one’s life.

“Change the way you think and change your life!”

Yahoo! Yippee! Yay! Right?

Worried that you never really and truly have everything you want and need in this life? Change the way you think about it and you will be satisfied. Worried you may be perceiving something incorrectly? Change the way you think about it? Worried that your time to take from everything available to you in this world is running out and you won’t be able to experience everything that you’d like or have everything you’d like? Change the way you think about it. Worried that knowing there’s all that in the world from which to take is out there and all you need do is look for it, find it, take it and use it, might change how you essentially are as a person morally or ethically? Change the way you think about it. And on and on and on.

I am, not here to be the great moral arbiter of the day and say we should bury our heads in the sand to all the grief and strife in the world. Because it is out there, exists and needs our attention. Understanding how the subatomic and personal, the spiritual and psychological wants, needs, perceptions and is motivations doesn’t change the need to grasp how all of this plays out in every molecule of every individual set upon this Earth. It’s staggering to think about. And quite ego-centric to know everything we know from the above and not let it move us to think about things morally or as a species as a whole or on some grand scale.

Yes, we all want and need, yes we all perceive and behave, yes we all are aware on unaware based on whatever point along the “life continuum” we are at.

It’s how you treat the responsibility of knowing that - that shows to your fellow human being - who you truly are and can offer you an new and refreshing look at yourself - when you make your focus broader, extend your needs farther, not just to yourself but to those around you, and change the way you think. You may not feel it necessary to do so, after all, our arms should only stretch as far as our blankets cover us, no? But there is an expression also, “Your reach should always extend grasp.” Meaning to look beyond. Thing big. Dream big. Etc.

That doesn’t always mean amass unto yourself the most of everything. It may if you perceive it to mean that. But I think the larger question here is if I can get all that, what good can I do with it once it’s in my reach and grasp? How can this help not only me, but those around me? Here’s where we no longer tread in psychology, philosophy or things somewhat spiritual, but into politics.

And as everyone knows that know me: I don’t talk politics!

Thursday the eve of the weekend. These are my last few words for today. Hope this didn’t drain you like it drained me! LOL! Have a great weekend, everyone!

M

P.S. So too as we must all sweep in front of our own doors, I think, so too, must we wipe our feet and offer blessings before entering another. And thank some Infinite grace we even have a door we can sweep in front of and have others we may enter.

P.P.S. If I haven't said it thus far in the blog, hope everyone had remarkable holidays and Happy 2009, everyone!

Sunday January 4, 2009

2009-01-05T03:20:00.003-06:00

Writing under my alias in Second Life, Mordock Karillion:

Saturday January 3rd, from 1-1:45PM (Central Time) I kicked off a weekly Deejay Slam by playing a 45 minute web simulcast of some of my favorite music at a live remote in Second Life at a place called The Big Noise Deejay Specialty Shop, brethren and sisthren. To open a three deejay show, for your scribe, Mordock Karillion, this maiden voyage into Disc-jockeying in Second Life has got to be one of the high points in all of my music, Internet and creative lives.

My hope is to play many, many more of these kinds of venues and to simulcast on the web, through a browser at http://TheSongster.serverroom.us:9442 for your listening pleasure within Second Life and for those listening on the world wide web.

Many thanks to those who came out to the remote for all of your VERY generous tips, to the owners of the venue and to those listening via the web page and until the next venue or gig, stay tuned to this web page for more details on all that.

Happy New Year everyone!!!

Your Scribe,
Mordock Karillion
(also known as MikeC)
No Drama Clan
Second Life

Friday january 2, 2009

2009-01-02T08:51:00.002-06:00

Very briefly: Happy 2009, everyone!!!

As most of you know, I am now on Second Life. Well, please join me, (under the alias: Mordock Karillion) Saturday January 3rd, 2009 @ 1pm Chicago time either in Second Life itself or on the world wide web (at the URL below) on Sukhumvit Sim @ Big Noise Dj Specialty Shop for a live remote DEEJAY SLAM. I will be broadcasting live and this will be my maiden voyage and foray into deelaying in Second Life. It Would mean a lot to me if you would show up!

Website URL = http://TheSongster.serverroom.us:9442

or http://38.96.148.39:9442

Many thanks to Snap Fhang, alika Jefferson, Jen Noel, Caitlin Messmer, Aurore Dreamscape and LaylAmoure Latte

my very best to you all for 2009!!!
Sincerely,
MikeC
(aka Mordock Karillion)
MikeC16958@gmail.com, or
mordockkarillion@ gmail.com

Friday December 26, 2008

2008-12-26T12:13:00.004-06:00

Once you surrender yourself to not knowing anything, not having any control, not having the right information, not being able to predict an outcome and being totally useless to anything or anybody in this or any lifetime. . . . .is when you're truly free.

Once you admit to yourself you know yourself well, are familiar with your own emotions, your own reactions, your veracity as an individual, your integrity and know that for every single solitary person you will meet, know or have met, your skills in maintaining face and reacting thus far can and will serve you from this point on. . . .is when you're truly free.

And if you're lucky enough or unlucky enough to have been born an Immortal, like Connor and Duncan MacLeod of he clan MacLeod, then you know only two things remain: one, never, ever, EVER lose your head and two, there can be only ONE!

Can you tell I've been overdosing on Highlander: The Series, on the SciFi Network for most of the day today by reading that stuff up there? Lord, I'm such a nerd!
Hehehehe. . . . . . .

Have a good weekend, folks!

:-)

Hope everyone had a nice holiday! Happy Friday!

Yer little pally,

MikeC

P.S. I'm sure had I watched a Brady Bunch marathon the platitudes would sound like this" "Well, you're a Brady! And when you are a Brady you're a Brady. And us Brady's stick together. And we never give up!"

So I guess there's something to glean from everything we consume. . . .no?

(insert eating joke here) :-) :-) :-)

Later taters!

Tuesday December 23, 2008

2008-12-23T17:02:00.001-06:00

Dad’s requiem mass and subsequent transport to the mausoleum until May 8th, 2005 occurred four years ago today in the township of Wagner in Marinette County in northeast Wisconsin. Day before yesterday was four years since we lost Dad.

It amazed me how similar these two days seemed to me when I went to the store for Mom, sitting in my car driving Sunday morning. Being in Belvidere, Illinois and the similarities between the two areas of this country are astounding to me.

And the holidays for my family have not been the same since.

Love you still and miss you Dad, still, now more than ever! Especially when for the first time in my life since the age of 16 I have been without employment for this extended amount of time. Forgive me Dad wherever you are and please just look in on us from time to time, especially now and let us know you’re alright.

Again, love you and miss you, Dad very very much.

Your youngest,

Michael

Monday December 22, 2008

2008-12-22T09:45:00.001-06:00

(Yesterday was 4 years. Love you and miss you, Dad.)

Daily Buddhist Wisdom

What is meant by nonduality, Mahatmi? It means that light and shade, long and short, black and white, can only be experienced in relation to each other; light is not independent of shade, nor black of white. There are no opposites, only relationships. In the same way, nirvana and the ordinary world of suffering are not two things but related to each other. There is no nirvana except where the world of suffering is; there is no world of suffering apart from nirvana. For existence is not mutually exclusive.

-Lankavatara Sutra
From "Buddha Speaks," edited by Anne Bancroft, 2000. Reprinted by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Boston, www.shambhala.com.

from www.beliefnet.org 12/22/08

Prayer for Dreamers

We pray for the dreamers of this life, O God,
for those persons who imagine new possibilities,
who long for what others cannot perceive,
who spin dreams of wonder and majesty in their minds.
Defend them from ridicule and harsh criticism,
from self-doubt and lack of faith in their dreams,
and from abandonment of this call to make things new.
Grant that from their dreams
may come forth blessings for humankind
to enrich the quality of life
and the wonderment of us all.
Amen.

- Vienna Cobb Anderson

from beliefnet.org 12/22/08

Have a great week, taters!

hugs and fivers

your pally

Mikey

Thursday December 19, 2008

2008-12-19T02:45:00.000-06:00

New podcast per the above date.

Sunday December 14, 2008

2008-12-15T00:01:00.004-06:00

Mom and I went out shopping during the holiday rush to a place on the far northwest side near Harwood Heights / Norridge called, "the Hip", (Harlem / Iriving Shopping Center) and we headed straight for Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co., a finer clothier and department store in the Chicagoland area.

We bought some scents, colognes and perfumes for ourselves and as gifts, kinda splurged a litle bit (does this make me mega-metro?) and as we walked out of the store Mom was overhead saying, (to me) "We may not have any money left but boy are we gonna smell damned good!"

:-) :-) :-)

Have a happy week, taters!
hugs and fivers, kids,
Yer Pally,
Mikey

Friday December 12, 2008

2008-12-12T20:06:00.001-06:00

Disclaimer: MikeC nor any of MikeC’s interests: MikeC Holdings, Inc. MikeCisKing, LLC, MikeCHasABoil, LTD or any subsidiary thereof shall be held responsible in any way shape or form for the following blogspot and any information therein. This is a story and only a story.

My friend calls me today and tells me of this incredible thing that happened. Apparently catching the flu this week and being debilitated for practically the entire week had him tired and bored of the aches, pains, sniffles and all of the others trappings or lack thereof that normally occur with having the flu and it dawned on him: I have a son who’s an MD!

So after three days of the flu or so my friend called his son. Feeling his week long malaise of flu, he said - imagination tells me - “Hello?”, which is an absolutely normal way to start a conversation, I think. So really how much imagination did I really need to use to imagine that - that my friend said, Hello”?

But I digress.

Well after telling his son how miserable he felt, his son broke loose with some new information about what has long and normally been thought to be the only thing to speed up the healing process whenever someone has such a terrible cold or flu. The normal procedure to self-medicate has long been massive doses of Vitamin C.

Apparently there is new thought in the medical field. Vitamin D - and this makes perfect sense if one thinks about it. Seasonal Affective Disorder affects certain people during winter months and so, too does the human body seem to be more susceptible to cold and flu during this time of year. Therefore, as my friend tells the story, his son said there is very little way to overdose on Vitamin D and if one does it’s usually accompanied with anxiousness or itchy skin. And to take that instead of Vitamin C.

My friend’s son suggested 30 - 40 tablets at one time of 1000 IU pills of Vitamin D in the morning and he did just that. So off my friend trudged to Whole Foods to buy a container of Vitamin D and took somewhere between 30-40 tablets of Vitamin D yesterday morning and again this morning seeing that he was off work anyway and was exasperated with his week-long condition / dilemma.

I talked to my friend this morning who recounted his 48 hour experiment in high doses of Vitamin D and he reported that he felt 85 per cent better than he did Sunday evening and Monday morning. He said he wouldn’t be running tonight but would wait until tomorrow to see how he feels to return to his physical activity routine.

And as I am want to say whenever I hear something this wild, “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

So there you have it. For whatever it’s worth. Many people after hearing this might say his “wanting to be cured may have had as much effect on his getting better as the Vitamin D.” Others would say not.

I thought this truly was a different kind of story, something I seriously have never heard before and I felt I needed to share, folks! Any thoughts, opinion or anyone having heard about this new school of thought and would like to share what they have heard? Please respond if and when your time permits.

Meantime, happy weekend all!

Hugs and fivers,

Yer pally,

MikeC

Tuesday December 2, 2008

2008-12-02T14:02:00.004-06:00

Mordock Karillion? Personal friend of mine.

Happy Tuesday, folks.

hugs and fivers,

MikeC

Monday December 1, 2008 (deux)

2008-12-01T16:17:00.005-06:00

My first blog posting mentions my friend, my classmate, my locker partner and my writing buddy from high school.

He's resurfaced after many, many years contacting me through facebook.

This is going to be wild catching up.

Monday December 1, 2008

2008-12-01T10:54:00.012-06:00

THANKSGIVING 2008

Nothing frosts my keyster more than big dumb animals begging at the table! LOL!

A little piece of tail for Thanksgiving.

:-) :-) :-)

Have a great week, y'all.

Hugs and fivers,

MikeC

Friday November 28, 2008

2008-11-28T16:19:00.000-06:00

I heard something interesting the other day. “I wouldn’t trust anyone who was incapable of saying ‘I love you’ to me” or something very similar to that. And as Mikey is want to do, things stick in his craw and then he decides to write about them.

I know people in my life who you ~KNOW~ you’re having the best of times with. You feel it in the moment. And again as I am want to do, I stop and take notice and make mention of that to people that I believe matter. Not as a test, although now that I have heard that statement and having had it stuck in my craw the way it has, I may just see from now on how forthcoming people are to do the same. Stop. Take notice. Make mention.

Angie, Mary and Erin are examples of folks like that and I will always love these ladies and thank the Infinite I was lucky enough to find them here in the ether. After all, here, it is by our words we are judged, not by our actions and neither of these three ladies ever acted inconsistently to the words they shared with me. Ever. That is also why I love ‘em!

I know people in my life who’ve chosen spouses incapable of such thought, feeling, care and emotion. Don’t subscribe to that behavior, think it unnecessary and don’t espouse offering positive feedback to anyone ever. Why do people choose spouses like that when they knew immediately beyond a certain age that they crave that kind of back and forth?

My parents could tell one another. And show it. And that’s what I want. Not any other thing.

Guess I’ll be single forever.

>sigh<

Now is the season of thanks. Let us all remember the things, people and experiences that have touched our lives.

Stop.

Take notice.

Make mention.

Hugs everyone!

Grease for peace. . .

yer pally

lil MikeyC

Monday Novemer 24, 2008

2008-11-24T13:17:00.003-06:00

On my usual trip to Mom’s, I felt like quite the “do-gooder” this weekend. Having purchased two pair of new glasses at a Lenscrafters at Cherry Vale Mall between Belvidere and Rockford, I was having my lenses adjusted for a better focus and my second pair were ready. Finally. This weekend. Three years or so since my last pairs and I needed them. (To put me further into debt, sadly. And in this dire time of mine right now, I don’t need that. But I needed the glasses.) So Saturday, off I went.

Having picked up my first pair, corrected, last weekend I stopped at a kiosk to look for a thin, black leather cell phone case thin enough to hear a ring through but also too, a case that I could keep the phone in and still speak and hear while it still covers the phone. I used to have one like that and I miss it. No dice last week. The kiosk owner looked and looked. Nothing. This week, I returned to the kiosk before heading into Lenscrafters. Same young man. “Hi,” I said. “I was here last week looking for,” insert description from above. “Did you get any in?”

“No, boss, sorry. I remember you and no. Sorry.”

Looking the young man squarely in the eye and saying to him, “Alright then. Thanks.,” a thought crossed my mind. I wonder if he understands the gravity of losing a customer twice. Or not having at least inquired about cases such as the one I needed from a week ago. Probably not. These types of kiosks do high turnover wherever they are, no doubt, daily and do repeat business from young people changing their cases and minds as to how their cells appear from week to week. But in that moment, I felt like Gordon Ramsay, doing a follow-up on some fledgling restaurant he helped save, mentally, brain-waving to him, “Blew it again, dude.” Not sure our eye contact drove that point home. Again, he probably didn’t care and it doesn’t really matter, so. . .

Just prior to this, I had gone into the men’s room and another “do-gooder” thing occurred. One stall and one urinal both occupied. Standing there waiting I noticed a tiny 5 or 6 year old waiting for his older 8 or 9 year old brother to finish his business so he could go too. When the older brother finished the smaller, younger lad took off his coat and handed it to his older brother who had just changed places and was now standing behind him, on watch. The older brother failed to catch the jacket the little one handed back to him and it fell on the men’s room floor. The older brother proceeded to push his little brother’s jacket to the left with his foot to clear the younger one’s path when he turned around so that he wouldn’t step on his own jacket.

As the older boy turned around again on watch, I looked at him and said as nicely as I could, “Pick up your little brother’s jacket, young man.” He did. The younger brother finished at the urinal, the older brother handed him his jacket and on thier way out looked up at me. (Now might be a good time to assure any of your out there who thinks I’m telegraphing a funny or discourteous ending here, like the older brother saying something mean or nasty or funny to me. . .Yeah I thought of completing that thought, too. LOL! Like, “Hey Meester? BLOW ME!” or something like that. But that’s not what happened. But it would have been pretty hysterical. No?)

I looked down at the older brother and smiled as if to say, “You did good. It was the right thing to do.” And in that moment I felt like a father or teacher might, I suppose.

These two incidents from the Cherry Vale Mall over the weekend were kinda cool to me for some reason. And truly enjoyed living those moments. I can’t explain why. They were just cool. And I wanted to share.

:-)

Have a great week, all.

Yer pally,

MikeC

Friday November 21, 2008

2008-11-21T13:08:00.003-06:00

There are two choices in life:

1) Who has made me feel special today? And is there anything I can do in return. Do I want to? Is it necessary? Should I reciprocate? Should I not.

And 2) Who can I make feel special today for it’s own sake?

I think I do number two as a matter of personal pride and part of who I am. But I may be wrong. And doing that may make people suspicious. But I never really cared.

(I know some people who think I'm not being honest in stating what I just have. I can't help that.)

But as anything, the law of diminishing returns (one piece of cherry pie is delicious. A hundred and ninety-four is death!) applies most anywhere, there are choice you make behaving in both numbers above. And repeating that behavior over and over with many people. Consequences.

Special is as special does.

1 Corinthians 13: 1:13

What is special? How do you show it?

Who is special and who is not?

We’re told to forgive not seven times but seven times seventy-seven times.

To what degree do we hold fast to that premise?

How long before our demonstrative behavior begins to wear thin? In our own minds? Or in the minds of those around us? How long before 1 and 2 don’t even mater anymore?

Oh, and when you’re wrong, suck it up and admit it.

I’m actually under some misguided impression that I also do that too.

I don’t know.

Why does everything and everyone symbolize a crossroad in my life? All the time?

I have no clue.

Nor do I really know what it is I’m talking about.

I guess it’s all about choices and chances.

Nuff said.

Happy weekend, folks!

Hugs and fivers,

yer lil pal,

MikeyC

Tuesday November 17, 2008

2008-11-19T00:53:00.005-06:00

The madman gathers the children around to detail what he had learned about "knowing Mike."

"Settle down, settle down. This is the story of. . .Mike."

The madman opens his torn and shredded note book and begins to read.

Mike pondered and wept. Currency and masks. There they were, a fork in the road, bearing down on him and so too, was life. You put money into a bank. You get interest. But you gotta wait so long. Mike thought about doing everything he should have, forcing himself to give as much as his heart and soul would let him to. More than he saw from anyone else around him. “A conceit of mine,” he thought because there were so many around him, so tightly gripping onto and holding firmly to what little they thought they had in life. And here Mike was, on the brink of losing it all, heck, of already losing it all, what little others perceived he should be fighting them for and he decided he could give a fat rat’s ass about any of it.

Very much not like drunks become so firmly attached to their drink they die from not being able to fill their bellies enough, feel the teeter-totter enough, chase that buzz enough until one day the doctor tells them if he can find a quarter-sized piece of liver that isn’t damaged, there’s a one in five chance they’ll live. No, not like that. No like misers polish and fine tune the sheen on their money and possessions until every nickle they ever owned is sitting on their dining room table in columns that reach the ceiling and they one day notice there is no one around to share their wealth with and no one they could spend their money on even if there were someone around because they spent so much time saving up, making their lives into banks and their homes into museums and their furnishings a home for all of the wealth they possess. No, not like that.

Mike had spent his cold hard-earned cash on something else, all of it. Mike wore his mask for other reasons. Stuck his neck out time and time again to see who would step on it and who would see precisely how these exercises made him owner of the strongest and prettiest neck they had ever seen. Virile, masculine, no veins, but wrinkled. Wrinkled from having stretched it out way beyond the point most average every day people would in pleasant company.

“Protect yourself, Michael.” He could hear the words in his head spoken by parents, siblings, teachers, pastors and friends. “Behave, Michael.” He could hear these words also. But Mike behaved the way he behaved and seldom if ever fell completely into line. Ultimately, he never did. And they could not see how utterly harmless Mike was. No one did. Rather, they thought him a threat. “How can anyone so not care about how they appear? He’s embarrassing. He’s naive. Does he know how this scares people?” To what? Be this open? Mike cared so much for making others feel comfortable, breaking the ice and making everyone laugh. It’s all he really knew. Mike dared folks to take the mask off and always did the same. Mike’s web logs would sometimes cut so keenly to the marrow not even the paper it was written on knew it was no longer blank. He was just that good.

“Mike is subversive. He’s a Ruskie, damn it! He’s got the plague! Run for your lives! He’ll never fit in!” Did these things ultimately help Mike? Nope.

But he didn’t care. He would go on being Mike with or without masks, with or without the generally accepted definition of currency, with or without reciprocity or any kind of thought and concern about anything. Mike would just go on being Mike.

Does the butterfly care if people see the metamorphoses occur? Does the rose care if in the blooming anyone feels the passage of time? And why does the caged bird sing? Tough questions. Mike had no answers for any of this. He just shook his head and wept.

And time marched on.

The madman closes the book and the children ask,

"Is Mike okay today?"

"Well, truth be told, he's probably awash in his own madness, laughing hysterically at some joke he heard last week, playing guitar. . . .badly, singing from the top of his lungs to some tune he's listening to in his chatroom or contemplating completely redoing his apartment for the millionth time but never gets around to. . . .and he's living, chilluns. He's living!"

The madman turns to Mike who mysteriously appears next to him and whispers very softly out of the corner of his mouth so the children cannot hear, "or he's watching pornos, eating Cheetos and drinking beer. One or the other."

And without hearing the madman whisper, and without knowing it is Mike sitting next to the madman, being relieved he is somewhere still alive, they begin to shout, "YAY! HURRAY! YIPPEE! YAHOO!"

Mike having heard the last comment from the madman and hearing the children yell for joy, smiles ironically to himself.

"The end, kiddies"

"Tell us another deeply morose and depressing story, madman!!! Please. . . .???"

"Well, okay! Once upon a time there was this elephant with a really bad head cold. Or was it a giraffe with some major phlegm? You know where it gets caught right here and no matter how hard you try and clear your throat? You got nuthin'! NUTHIN'!!! Oh, what the hell. I'll tell you that one, kids!"

"Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!"

:-)

Happy Hump Day, folks!

MJC

(Special thanks goes out to Sir James. I'll have your madman back by seven bro! Thanks!)

Monday November 10, 2008

2008-11-10T22:46:00.005-06:00

One of MikeC's ramblings to a Tibetan monk atop a mountain in Nepal in some ashram somewhere # 1,112:

There are times in this life where you think to yourself, “Damn that bullet missed me by that much!” ::: holding my fingers about an inch apart :: And in those specific times you wonder, “Hmmm, what if the outcome would have been different? What if instead of having had the bullet miss me; it hit me instead?”

Let me ask you something. Did that above analogy make any sense to you? Let me explain. No, there is too much let me sum up. >grin< I have thought the worst of people in my life from time to time for lack of anything else to do. Apparently I needed to drive myself even more bonkers than I already am by thinking neurotic and paranoid thoughts in the most innocent of situations.

You know like trusting someone. And then you up and decide people are not as trustworthy as you had originally given them credit for so you start to think neurotic and paranoid thoughts about them. Then you start believing these wild imaginings. Next thing you know a perfectly innocent person is on top of your “shit list” for some stupid notion that had no basis in fact to begin with and the next time you see this person you are no longer as trusting and caring as you may have once been? You’re actually quite surly and they have no idea why you’re behaving this way.

This could be with the guy who gave you what you suspect is incorrect change at the convenience store. You know, you missed the dime under the quarter and threw everything in your pocket under the assumption someone would take the time to “jones” you out of ten cents. Like ten cents really matters. But looking at your change and thinking wrong, you went ahead and just threw it all in your pocket anyways because who wants to fight over ten cents anymore? Maybe fifty years ago?

And you stuff the receipt in your pocket along with the change. And now not knowing precisely how much change you had in there to begin with, and not counting your change diligently enough and compare it to the receipt, you’re walking around with a chip on your shoulder about the guy at the convenience store.

There does not even remotely exist in your mind the ~SLIGHTEST~ possibility that you’re thinking “kid’s stuff,” “crazy stuff,” anymore because you have convinced yourself convenience store guy and / or the rest of the world is out to get you.

I think that has been the basis for every Larry David, “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode since it’s inception 6 years ago or so. Or at least somewhat of a part of it. How wrong Larry David’s character is when he started out being right. But because he had to focus on one stupid and fleeting thought, he didn’t give someone the benefit of the doubt, he ran off at the mouth about something completely beside any point being made, he’s screwed himself in the process.

Ever wake up in a cold sweat thinking you were wrong about something or someone and ultimately finding out your were right all along? There is no greater defeat than that. Because even the pessimist would love nothing more than to be proven wrong in his lack of trust, his pessimism and his defeatist attitude. No? I think a pessimist would love to be proven wrong.

But because the incidence of being proven wrong is so few and far between in a pessimist’s mind, they go right on being the pessimist and saying, “See? I knew that would happen.” or “See? I told you so!”

Then of course there’s the Larry David character in “Curb” again, who is proven wrong and has no way out. He misjudged, misread and miscalculated ~EVERYTHING!~ He spoke out of turn and now the entire debacle has blown up in his face and there is no where to turn, nothing to say and he looks like a fool.

Yeah, I have nightmares about that too.

:-)

Happy Tuesday everyone!

:-)

Wednesday November 5, 2008 (deux)

2008-11-06T01:38:00.004-06:00

Let me ask you something. What do you do at 1 a.m. on a “school night” when you can’t sleep? Do you get up out of bed, smoke a cigarette, make a sandwich, go to the washroom, look in the mirror, check your face for more wrinkles? Which incidentally you’re going to have more of on a sleepless night than at any other time, so why bother looking?

I mean what do you do?

Do you call a friend?

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Yeah. . . buddy, do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah. But I couldn't’t sleep.”

Ever notice you do this once, MAYBE twice to someone in your life before you find out who your true friends are and who are not?

(We're all such professional friends to one another nowadays I'm sure this is listed in "The Professional Friendship Manual of 2008" or "2008's How To Be a Good Friend Handbook" somewhere. NUMBER 6: Never call a friend when you can't sleep.)

So you call once usually, maybe twice before you find out, right? Because first of all you say, a true friend wouldn’t call you at one or two or even three a.m. because he or she knows not to be that inconsiderate, don’t they? But sometimes friends are inconsiderate. Aren’t they?

Let me ask you something. The precise person who would call you inconsiderate and a “dick” for calling them because you couldn't’t sleep. We all have someone like this that we know. What if ~THEY~ called you at 1 a.m.? The utter nerve. First, he hung up on you. Second, he called you inconsiderate and third ~HE’S~ calling you now because ~HE~ can’t sleep? What is that? You know? The nerve. The balls!!! The chutzpah of some people, no?

What if it were incidental, the not being able to sleep part? In their mind? What if it were just to talk because in this life of quiet desperation, neuroses, frightening and oftentimes debilitating paranoia, not to mention hunger pangs, sleeplessness and just fear of the future and the unknown (Note to Self: Call therapist tomorrow.) What would you do then? Take the call? Stay up with a friend? Listen as you nodded off pretending to listen? What if the reason you were calling old bastard up there with these same issues? If this situation I’m speaking of was reversed?

Precisely why I put my “note to self” up there.

No one wants to know your bad shit. Do they? You can’t sleep. Life’s got you down. Shit’s flying all around you and you’re sinking fast. To the average, every-day, normal, well-adjusted, nine-to-five person you know in your life, Joe the plumber, Joe Six-Pack kinda guy, they don’t want to be bothered, right?

By the way, why do we call “examples” of average people Joe? Joe the plumber. Joe Six-Pack, Joe Blow? What gives with the name Joe? John I think is a far more prevalent name in modern times than Joe, is it not? John Q. Public. Anyways. What if John Q. Public called you at 1 a.m.? You’d hang up on him wouldn’t you? You don’t know him. He don’t know you? No? It’s all so frustrating all this thinking about Joes and Johns, calling and not answering, eating or smoking, rolling over or just laying there going over every defeat you’ve ever experienced in your life, isn’t it? Or am I the only one who does these things?

Sitting there. Alone. In the dark. 1 a.m.

“Gee I wonder who I should call to let them know how terribly this insomnia is making me feel?”

NO ONE!

Take a walk. Watch CNN. Smoke a ciggie. Make a sammich. Write a blog for heaven’s sakes. SOMETHING!!! But for the life of you, if you want to keep your friends - don’t ever, ever, EVER call them!

Do you know why?

Because in this fast-paced modern world where we have to live on an average of five hours or less - look this statistic up - as human adult citizens of most industrialized nations, we’re all losing sleep. All of us. And what are we thinking about usually?

"Dang! I’ll never get my eight hours in tonight!"

Guess what? You, if you’re in the above mentioned group, haven’t had eight hours sleep since Eisenhower was president. That’s just a plain fact of life.

How crazy is that? Our doctors tell us we’re supposed to have an average of eight hours of sleep a night to have a healthy lifestyle in today’s world. And on an average we’re only getting five, if that. Due to that laundry list of things keeping us up at night. And others. The mortgage, the gas bill. The light bill. The phone bill and on and on and on. Doctors telling us to be more social. Make new friends. Get out there. Yeah, but you can’t even call them at 1 a.m. so what’s the damned point? Doctors telling us which of the major food groups to eat, or the food triangle or whatever it’s called now. . . . blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. . . .

Isn’t all this the craziest thing you’ve ever heard of? I’ve never heard of such a thing having friends you can’t call because you might hurt their feelings. Doctors telling us what to do. Not being able to sleep. It’s crazy! Just CRAZY!

I know who I’ll call. . .

My doctor!

:-) :-) :-)

Note the time this was posted below.

Happy whatever the hell day it is tomorrow everyone!

Well it's already tomorrow anyways, isn't it?

Let me ask you something. What day should I use when I post this before I go to bed tonight? Wednesday or Thursday? Maybe I could call someo. . . .

. . . . . .naw. . . . . . .

Never mind!

:-)

Take care all,

yer pal,

MikeyC

Wednesday November 5, 2008

2008-11-05T18:34:00.003-06:00

Thanks Craig for this! Can you imagine? What would you do? Horrifying and yet funny? I haven't decided yet. O. . . .M. . . .G!

------------
Jogger runs mile with rabid fox locked on her arm

Nov 5 04:22 PM US/Eastern
Associated Press

PRESCOTT, Ariz. (AP) - Authorities in Arizona say a jogger attacked by a rabid fox ran a mile with the animal's jaws clamped on her arm and then drove herself to a hospital. The Yavapai County sheriff's office said the woman told deputies she was on a trail near Prescott on Monday when the fox attacked and bit her foot.
She said she grabbed the fox by the neck when it went for her leg but it bit her arm.
The woman wanted the animal tested for rabies so she ran a mile to her car with the fox still biting her arm, then pried it off and tossed it in her trunk and drove to the Prescott hospital.
The sheriff's office says the fox later bit an animal control officer. He and the woman are both receiving rabies vaccinations.

-----------------------

Happy Wednesday all!
MJC

Tuesday November 4, 2008

2008-11-05T00:00:00.004-06:00

From a blog on the net who's font set I had trouble downloading. Many thanks to this individual. I just found these words 10 minutes ago:

Remarks of President-Elect Barack Obama-as prepared for delivery
Election Night
Tuesday, November 4th, 2008
Chicago, Illinois

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he's fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation's next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the White House. And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics - you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

---
Make no mistake, if McCain would have won, you would have found his acceptance speech here as well.
---

G'Night, folks!

Tuesday October 21, 2008 - Addendum 10/22/08

2008-10-22T02:00:00.008-05:00

Appearing at the top of their website are these words:

"I dare you to care. I dare you to risk your life. I dare you to believe in all the things you learned in childhood. . .that were right. I dare you to believe. I dare you to care."

I am of course speaking about, Jefferson Starship. Tonight, nestled near the Red Line El tracks on Lunt street, at The Heartland Cafe I saw another piece of musical history.

As my friend Craig is want to say on evenings prior to shows like these, and I quote:

"Buddy, you HAVE TO come out. Do you have any idea how much influence this band had upon musical history??? Do you??? These guys are UNBELIEVABLE! This is a once in a life time thing, buddy! Come!"

So I went. :-)

He's said that about Eric Burdon and the Animals, he's said it about Leon Russell, Howard Levy, Blondie Chaplin and he's said it about others over the years.

We've seen copy bands like Problem Child and Think Floyd and this summer we drove up to Summerfest in Milwaukee to see, for a second time, Eric Burdon and the Animals.

Why if it weren't for Craig I would have never seen Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and Steve Winwood.

So we have a history there, him and I, of seeing a ton of bands together since the fall of 2006. Without Craig, my life wouldn't be as musically enriched as it's been these last couple of years.

And tonight? Well as I imagine Paul Kantner might say, "Tonight was un-fucking-believable!"

Joining Paul Kantner and this new incarnation of the Starship at The Heartland Cafe were David Freiberg from Quicksilver Messenger Service, Cathy Richardson (hubba!) and Anne Harris.(hubba II)

Opening and joining Starship was Jack Traylor.

Tonight's show, for me, has got to go down in some kind of musical history alright: as having been one of the coolest shows I have ever seen!

I also bought and was fortunate enough to receive Cathy Richardson's autograph on my CD of her brand new album.

If you don't know who she is, well mister, you're losing out. Her last album was nominated for a Grammy award and she hails from right here in Chicago, Illinois. Can you say "better than Grace Slick?" ;-) :-)

And Anne Harris? Well never have I seen a rock-goddess playing violin. Until tonight. I also talked to her for a short time during the band's break. Quite a lady, quite the talent and super-friendly and down to earth.

Paul Kantner, still political as ever, still feisty as ever rocked pretty hard on twelve-string and swore like a longshoreman throughout the show making comments about our current state of affairs politically quite often.

I really felt like this is what it must have been like. . . .back in the day.

My inner hippie was quite pleased to say the least!

Here are my pictures from tonight. (CLICK HERE)

Have a great week folks and get out and see some live music today!!!!!

Peace and light.

MikeC
----------------------
Wednesday October 22, 2008
----------------------
On the eve of the 52nd anniversary of the Hungarian uprising. . . .

First off a special thanks goes out to a blogspot poster named, "Atomic" for his links below to further pictures from the concert last night and a short video.

10:19 pm as I sit to write some thoughts I’ve had this evening. Into headphones wails the voice of Cathy Richardson and Paul Kantner and David Freiberg singing “Follow the Drinking Gourd.” I am very happy to say my inner hippie was awakened last night after seeing Jefferson Starship here in town and hearing the new music they’ve recorded.

And tonight I began realizing precisely how political people actually are in today’s world even though the three big taboos of casual and business conversation (politics, sex and religion) are seldom discussed in any other terms than politically correct nowadays - unless it’s with someone you know really well.

Politics still exists. And I think we need to realize the scope of politics and how they effect our lives particularly in this current season of election.

Many of you regular readers of this blog have hung in there and have read my words since March of 2005, and some of you have read them over at Moontown since March of 2004. You essentially know me from my words. From there and from here. But what you all don’t know are my politics.

The reason you don’t know them is because I don’t discuss them. Neither have I discussed sports except for twice. I don’t discuss sex. And I never speak of religion. Not here. Not in public. Therefore, readers know me by my words, people I see face to face and interact with know me by my behavior.

And if you hang in there maybe before this blog is over I might be able to explain why. Maybe not in tonight’s entry. . .but if I decide to stop writing one day. . . you might be able to see the scope of the entries you’ve read and be able to discern who it was I tried to be in this life.

And that my friends is the politics of my life. >grin<

Now if you’re head is cocked to the side and you’re finding yourself wondering if perhaps you missed it, you haven’t.

My politics are who I am.

The politics of behavior and words.

Many people have things they strongly believe in. You see them act them out and speak their words about their strong feelings from time and time. They’re very demonstrative and outspoken about the things they feel strongly about. It’s interesting to watch. To people watch. To see if their words, actions and behaviors jibe. And how, precisely.

Some folks do not care about what they say, to whom they say it and what they do as long as you realize that “they are real.” I don’t need that kind of assertiveness and aggression to know you mean what you say and behave demonstrably about how you think and feel. I can see you in front of me and listen and know, okay? :-)

And that is precisely why I never speak about the liberal Democrats, the conservative Republicans or anything in between, because the politics of words and deeds fascinates me completely and more thoroughly beyond any kind of discussion about purely “politics.” I suppose that may say something about me. My scope.

I am a firm believer in “no harm to others,” from my college years. True I wasn’t part of the “flower children,” generation nor did I ever demonstrate, hold placards, march on any state capital or anything like that. True. But what I have done that has made me uniquely me is precisely what I’m talking about. My politics.

On a more face to face, personal, grass roots level. And by these efforts, I can sympathize with what was happening 10 to 15 years before I was a teenager myself and what Paul Kantner was saying last night in his spoken words and in the ones he David Freiberg, Cathy Richardson and Jack Traylor sang also.

It may have something to do with being “part of something bigger than one’s self.”

But again, I assert I do this in my own personal politics. My behavior and my words.

I have a strong sense of what’s right and what’s wrong and I guess that comes from hearing “freedom fighter” stories from my parents and at various functions I attended as a young man that spoke to things such as the Hungarian Freedom Fight and Uprising of October 23rd of 1956.

And that is why this whole “no harm to others” struck a chord with me last night when I walked into The Heartland Café in Roger’s Park last night to see Jefferson Starship and seeing the posters on the wall in the general store part of the venue.

The posters I saw spoke of banning the death penalty.

There! I just put a political statement in my blog. I didn’t say it was one I espoused. I just put it in here. As I read the posters dealing with this issue I was reminded what 24 years in the trading pits had done to me. (My buddy Craig and I ran into trader types there last night.) It took away my ability to think critically about issues like this because I found myself among a fairly conceited bunch of people who felt strongly either one way or another.

I tended to speak in a politically correct fashion with almost everyone I met there. Traders and brokers are INTENSE people and some are not so nice. So you have to tread lightly and allow them the widest berth you possibly can - because they will take it from you anyways.

I actually think that’s just my politics of behavior, to be politically correct on the outside and still just be myself inside and think what I think about everything and everybody, regardless. It’s prudent, it’s self-preserving and it’s kept me alive.

Listening to Paul Kantner’s Album as I write right now, I am beginning to understand lyrics like these contained in the song, In a Crisis from their new album Jefferson Starship presents Jefferson’s Tree of Liberty:

The spirits of the earth are so hungry for justice
they cry
The spirits of the sun are lined up on our side
and they cry
In a crisis we cut away what we don’t need anymore
In the good times we find our way, we find our way inside
In a crisis we cut away what we don’t need anymore
In the good times we find our way, we find our way back home

What a great album, what a great show to be a part of and what a truly profound and awesome movement the founders of this band aligned themselves with back in the day. Nice to know some folks still value freedom and remember a day when we fought for it. That’s another thing in a very long line of things I owe to my parents. That sense of how precious freedom really and truly is.

:-)

Happy Thursday, folks!

MJC

Thursday October 16, 2008

2008-10-16T23:08:00.003-05:00

From a somewhat hurried cell phone call on the street today. . .

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is the Greek Island Restaurant.”

“Yes, I left an umbrella there last night. Maybe I could describe it briefly because I was wondering if it was turned in?”

“Just a minute, sir.”

(After a time on hold)

“Yes, sir I have an umbrella.”

“Great. It should be red and blue and yellow and be rather long like a golf umbrella.”

“With a gray handle. . . . . .?”

(You can see where this is headed, right?)

“No, it’s more like beige, or light brown.”

“Is there green in the umbrella?”

“Well there might be, but the handle. . . . .it’s wooden. Correct? Kind of beveled?”

“Um. . . . . . . . . wait. . . . . . . .yes, sir it is.”

“Great, I’ll be right there.”

“Ok, sir. It will be here when you get here.”

"Thank you."

. . . . WHEW!. . . . . .

Ever stop and pause in the middle of something you know could easily have turned down a Monty Python-esque road and wonder to yourself precisely how amused or put off you should actually feel about where something is headed?

Yeah, I do too.

>grin<

----

In other news I was passing by the Price Waterhouse Cooper / UBS building this afternoon on my way home and noticed something I don’t think I see too often in downtown Chicago.

I saw a man, outside the building, using a small-handled mopping tool to clean a large chrome corporate logo that had intricate detail in it. He used the mopping device like a pro swishing it over the logo and using it’s ends to reach into the chrome nooks and crannies obviously to do as thorough a job as he possibly could.

The right man for the right job.

‘Nuff said.

Too bad we all can’t be like this guy in various factions of life, huh?

Going the extra mile. Taking the extra time. Taking special care. Paying attention to the detail-work. Getting a job done and doing it right.

----

Finally, in the washroom this morning getting ready to leave, I could hear Charles Osgood on Newsradio this morning with one of his reports on of all things, time. It left an impression upon me all day to the point where I started managing my time and responding to it in an adult fashion. At this late ~TIME~ at night, I think I did good today, all in all, managing “my” time and responding to it.

One of the great equalizers of humankind.

Time.

----

And now it's "TIME" for bed. . . . . .

Happy Friday, all!!! Yip-yip-YIPPEE!!!

Hugs and fivers, kids.

Yer pal,

MikeC

Wednesday October 15, 2008

2008-10-15T11:36:00.000-05:00

All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.

--William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
All’s Well That Ends Well, Act V. Sc. 3

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
Source: Tempest, Act iv. Sc. 1

Thursday October 9, 2008

2008-10-09T22:43:00.003-05:00

To anyone reading this who knows: Thank you very much!

Saturday October 4, 2008

2008-10-04T23:59:00.000-05:00

Something very cool about having grown up the first generation-born Hungarian child of 1956 refugees in Chicago was our little congregation over at St. Stephen's King of Hungary Church, a stone's throw from The Chicago Stadium and the United Center. I was baptized and confirmed in that church, was an altar-boy, acolyte there, did the bulletin and other odd computer print jobs there for 6-7 years or so, from 1995 to 2002-ish.

Tonight was the annual grape festival there sponsored by the Delvideki Association and the H.M Scout Group.

Went to a lot of those over the years. Even played the music at a few of those over the years back in the "oom-pah-pah" band days from 1988-1993.

Hungarian fare to eat, a person or two from my very young days, and many that I have known over the years, some I've only met in the last 10-13 years and some I did not even know.

I suppose you might equate this to a German Oktoberfest, only in Hungary it's the grape festival. Both are based on "harvest," I'm asuming.

Enjoy my pictures and have a nice remainder of your weekends, folks!

Yer pal,
MikeyC

Friday October 3, 2008

2008-10-03T14:58:00.001-05:00

Brand new little podcast as of this afternoon's smoke break below.

Happy weekend, taters and take care all.

MJC

:-)

Tuesday September 30, 2008

2008-09-30T23:22:00.003-05:00

A few shots [ CLICK HERE! ] as I walked to the subway this afternoon from

The National League Division Champs: The Chicago Cubs Postseason Rally @ Daley Plaza today.

. . .and a poem from a blogspot flash from the past.

(Seems appropos all of a sudden.)

Happy Hump Day, taters!

Sunday September 28, 2008

2008-09-28T15:37:00.001-05:00

Pioneer Festival pics, Belvidere, Illinois yesterday.

Thursday September 25, 2008

2008-09-25T23:28:00.004-05:00

Please click the following link (PLEASE CLICK HERE!) to see some of my graphic art / visual arts pieces and some of my HDR photography pieces.

And if you're so inclined to buy any of them for greeting cards, on canvas or as prints, well then mister, God bless you! :-)

Either way, take a look at what I've been doing lately and enjoy!

Happy Friday and happy weekend, folks! :-)

MJC

P.S. Here's a MikeyC blogspot retrospective for you to eschew, ruminate over and generally go, "Huh?" after reading. It's dated and I still feel the ripples of how i felt that day.

Monday September 22, 2008

2008-09-22T23:41:00.001-05:00

Lawd, I love this post! There's some logic in all that somewhere. Sadly, maybe only I understood it when I wrote it?

'Dunno.. . .

Have a great week, folks!

MJC

Sunday September 21, 2008

2008-09-21T22:20:00.003-05:00

Pictures and a poem.

Edward's Orchard, Poplar Grove, Illinois, this morning.

-----------------------

I Am

I am a biological organism, am
told I am a molecular impossibility:
a bi-pedal, opposable thumbed,
thinking, feeling, creation
spawned from the same.

Walking, breathing, eating,
thinking, feeling and capable
of acting upon instinct, thought,
emotion.

I have a conscience. I am sentient.
Intelligent. I am told I have a soul,
free will and am able to sustain my
own life and able to help others.

Co-existing with 5 billion members
of the same species, trying to live,
thrive and survive in peace with each
other.

All on this huge, round shaped thing
floating in infinite space.

That’s a lot to handle.

A lot of responsibility.

Damn. I hope I get this right!

MJC

Saturday, 09/20/08

:-)

Tuesday September 16, 2008

2008-09-16T22:24:00.001-05:00

Regret

When they were passing out street smarts
I thought they said pop tarts and said,
No thanks, everyone, I’m full!

When offered free love
all I heard was clay doves
pulled out my rifle, set the sight
and said, Pull!

When given the choice ‘tween
what’s right and what’s wrong
there’ve been times I regret this to say

the difference eluded me
overwhelmed and deluded me
in my confusion I simply
just lost my way

I’ve been late, I’ve forgotten
I’ve even ignored
opportunities present and ripe

chose pastels over primaries
casual over business
polka dots over the stripes

I missed out on logic
when emotion took over
over some of the silliest strife

‘Times when emotion was called for
and logic won out
I felt strongest and best in my life

So many things passed me by
I was late, missed things by
some slight degree

But I’ve not given up
in the who that I am
in all these regrets within me

MJC
9/16/08

Thursday September 11, 2008

2008-09-11T08:33:00.000-05:00

It occurs to me, after rereading some of my recent blogs, that someone is due a sincere, frank and honest apology, here, folks.

My friend, Angie.

Angie: I was wrong to add my own agenda to the post before last having to do with the friendship we maintain that started with our affiliation over at Moontown Café.

Freud would have a field day with that post!!!

And rather than sending this to you in a personal email, because that post was public, I should address this publically. I will try to do better in the future.

The female bashing that takes place surrounding and around my describing our friendship in that post is troublesome for me particularly starting with my first read of it the night that I wrote it. It’s disingenuous as far as what the point of that post “should have been.”

In the last two days, I have a printed hard copy that I have reread about 15 times since then and I can’t defend myself in any other way than to say, apparently I have issues.

OMG!

LOL!

Oy!

On that day, I wanted to speak about your support and warmth in the last three years this blog has existed (here @ blogspot), but that post degenerates into areas I should have never gone into.

I suppose I wanted to tell the male side of the Internet coin, while telling other females who might be reading I sympathize with their “online dilemma.”

It was shallow and rings a tad hollow in my personal rereading and really doesn’t ring as true as I wanted it to.

Particularly the part about how I value your having traveled to my blogspot time after time and your offering comment and opinion on, let’s face it, sometimes a serious amount of bullshit I put into these pages.

The other side of the coin is I should not tell people what you are not, I should approach it all as describing what you are in terms of “what I know of and how I know” you.

I have been hurt on the ‘Net by my own indecision, stupidity, naiveté and ignorance and thinking this is any place to really and truly get to know someone well, I must seriously be living in a dream world on that one - but if that’s possible at all, Angie, I think in part, you and I know more about each other than the average or casual Internet user.

And for the opportunity to take that kind of personal peek into your life and the thoughts, feelings and opinions you’ve offered to me, the time you take and have taken to respond to my blogspot over the years: I want to thank you again. For all that. And more.

And please forgive that blatant agenda that seeped out in that post from the recesses of my psyche (that as I say only became apparent after I did my own psychoanalysis of that post upon rereading it that night).

Much Love.

: - )

Mikey

Happy Thursday all!

Wednesday September 10, 2008

2008-09-10T08:51:00.001-05:00

I was going to write about Nickelback’s video, Savin Me being probably one of the coolest concept videos I have ever seen in my life but then I realized, it’s been out for a long time and is old hat to a lot of people, probably, got its share of play probably on both “video television” and unquestionably on the radio as well, when it first came out. It was played to death, in my humble opinion. So I changed my mind about today’s blog topic.

I could have written about crude oil seeing as how in the month of August I podcasted about commodity markets, the infamous United Airlines email, and tried to explain how in commodities its not a question of “the same 30 contracts being bough, sold, rebought and resold” over and over and over again, but it’s about how much money is thrown at the market that had raised the prices to the extent that prices have soared.

It’s not until a bull market runs out of steam, people stop throwing money at it and generally buying dries up that you see what’s happening the last few weeks: prices are coming down – SOMEWHAT.

I also could have written today about Angie again or some other friend I have made on the ‘Net in the last few years since my involvement has quadrupled from what it once was, say, 5 years ago (MYSPACE, FACEBOOK, BLOGSPOT and a new personal domain who’s URL I will release in a couple of weeks, displaying my graphic art, three dimensional images and some examples of the photo restorations I did for a two-store photo developing chain here in Chicago’s Loop for seven or eight years) but I will reserve that right for some other day

I could have checked my statcounter and greeted newer visitors to my blogspot such as I have done in the past, but if I also upload these words to MYSPACE all my friends will think they can see who’s visited their MYSPACE and everyone knows they strictly prohibit that as a function of their social community.

I wanted to write more about “looking back” as a means of understanding “looking ahead,” and also wanted to write more about Dad and Mom’s first few months and years in these fabulous United States, in 1956, after escaping communist Hungary, but both those topics will have to wait for another blog at some future time coming up.

I also wanted to write a retrospective of my summer, kind of like a, “What I’ve done with the Summer of 2008 and how miserably it flew right by” type of thing listing some of the highs and lows that have happened, but again, that will also have to wait.

Instead I’ll just enlist the help of regular readers in the following:

Everyday when someone asks me how I’m doing, lately, I have been replying, “You know me. ‘Like an ole’ hound dog! . . . .”

The above elipses represent a follow up explanation relating back to being a hound dog that I usually say immediately after, such as:

o crying all the time,
o big hairy jowls and floppy ears,
o digging up bones,
o scratching at fleas,
o moving in slow motion but I usually get there,

etc.

LOL!

But I’m running out of analogies here.

So, gentle reader, if you can come up with newer, fresher analogies for me to say after my “catch phrase of late,” I would humbly appreciate it!

Meantime, Happy Hump Day, folks!

:-)

MJC

Tuesday September 9, 2008

2008-09-09T07:24:00.002-05:00

Written Monday evening September 8, 2008, close to 11PM CST

I want to write about someone in my life tonight but not sure precisely how to go about doing it without her permission. She is a fellow blogger and writer and a colleague from Moontown Cafe. I've written about my friend, Mary and my friend Erin (E1) in this web log on various occasions but I'm not sure I have ever written about Angie.

I spent today online with a friend. My friend, Angie. In emails. I want to tell you about how I feel about all that through the journey of tonight's scribblings but first I must tell you how I have lived my life for the passed seventeen plus years. (It always makes sense for me to start at the beginning and that is why I am accused sometimes of being a big mouth, a loud mouth or someone who monopolizes a conversation - because I want to get it all in.)

Having sat in front of a computer monitor in a computer chair since the fall of 1990 on a Tandy HX1000, 8088, a 386, 486, 64 mghz, 80 mghz, and how ever many incarnations of gigahertz microprocessor computers I have owned and doing similarly to what I am doing now - typing on a keyboard - for whatever reason, be it personal, social or academic

(yes I was in chat rooms in IRC in a pure UNIX environment from my very first days on the 'Net in a channel known as "hottub" through my Northeastern Illinois University Internet account)

has, at times - been quite a daunting thing.

So I know chat rooms.

Well.

When I got my AOL account in 93-ish or whenever it was only a few years after that I became a chat room host in their Digital Cities: Chicago Online Area but prior to that I knew the feeling of "channel ops" in IRC. AOL had a gag tool.

I always tried to have fun in chat rooms and pretty much knew where to draw the line in most cases but having channel ops in IRC and the gag tool laid across my knees in AOL as if it were some strange "scepter of power" and then having to decide to use these powers were fraught with a lot of indecision and "back and forth."

(How Angie fits into tonight's post is not quite apparent yet but I promise if you hang in there with me I'll try to sum up shortly.)

From very early on I have known about the female dilemma in chatrooms. From the "hey (insert hideous expletive here) wanna see my (colloquialism for some male body part here)?" to someone that eventually turns psycho in a much more drawn out encounter or friendship, I am here to say there aren't too many people out there who have seen it all, done it all and know it all about chatrooms much in the same way as I do.

Angie and I met by a much different type of interaction. By our poetry.

But she is a female with some sort of cyberlife as me, that for as far as our friendship goes, started at MoontownCafe - as with Mary and E1, and has stood the test of a very long amount of time by chatroom, Internet, heck by modern day face to face standards and I for one love her dearly!

~THIS!~ is precisely what I am ~NOT~ talking about: female freaks, psychos and generally mean-spirited women who put themselves out there on the 'Net.

~THAT!~ is not Angie.

And I am not trying to minimize anything that happens here in the ether of cyberspace. It is ~AS~ dangerous as the real world a lot of the times. And men are definitely pigs! Here, there and everywhere. But I have met my share of the same in reverse.

Freaks, flirts, glamour queens, gossip queens, drama queens and just plain old effed up chicks who draw you into their drama only to spit you out in a very short amount of time because they are impatient, rude and feel the need to be in control at all times at any cost.

Mean, rude and quite frankly just as nasty as many men folk in this world and the scum women face on a daily basis out here in cyber-life.

NOT ANGIE! FAR FROM IT! She's the opposite of all that and truly, a friend.

What a blessing it was for me to find the small circle of friends I now call friends out here as I have thus far. By what force of nature was I blessed to have human beings "hang in there" for so long and ~BE~ a part of my life not because we were related, not because we worked together, not because they ~HAD~ to but because they wanted to?

How did I get to be this lucky?

After all the insanity? All the heartbreak. All the emotional roller coasters. All of the bullshit I have found here.

How?

I have no idea.

I understand that like anything, the 'Net is many things for many people. I "get" that now. After all this time. 17 plus years.

But by what right do I have to call Angie a friend? How do I define friend? What constitutes a friend in Mikey's eyes?

Well, the kindergartner has your answer for you when they're asked ("What is a friend or how do you know what a friend is or how can you be a friend to someone else?").

"Someone who is there. When you need them or they need you. Someone who loves you and you love them back."

How many emails have you received this week with that very answer in it?

I know I've seen that before. I've heard it before. And I've felt it before.

How is it that a young person can know that? And how is it that by the time we age into some form of maturity we still haven't figured out the whole "friendship" thing with very much grace or aplomb?

Where do we go wrong? How do we lose track of that?

I have spent my entire day in emails with Angie. I've done it before and I know we will do it again. All from a basis in poetry. It all started with "poem."

Our writings.

Small colorfully phrased, symbolically described people, places and things in a very few lines of text uploaded to a website here on the information superhighway.

Not face to face contact. Not by meeting in a supermarket or by working together or by accident or happenstance or even by someone introducing us. We met at a depository for prose and poetry in cyberspace.

And I know Angie will probably either cringe in embarrassment or possibly delight someplace down deep that I even took the time to do this, but it's true. All of it. I love her dearly and would not trade her to any of you for anything!!!

She is a mother, a wife, a daughter and a great individual. Just a very nice human being. And we spent our day today in emails.

Talking about our lives.

In the time it has taken me to write these words and thoughts (from 10:37pm to 11:22pm) Wordpefect says I am on page 3, line 6.31, pos. 4.49.

Each one of our letters today back and fourth was no less than two hundred words, I'm guessing.

Talking about our lives.

We don't do this every single day.

Angie's just one of those people you can pick up with and have EVERYTHING! feel the same each and every time you talk.

Interesting how I use the word "talk" and preface this whole blog tonight talking about chatrooms, because for the last 5 years (August of 2003), I have spent time getting to know people in a web-cam based chatroom on a service called, Paltalk and I'd venture to guess Angie and I know each other better than a lot of people whose faces I see, reactions I see, voices I've heard, text, words, thoughts and emotions I read and have read every single night for the last 5 years!

Interesting that I feel I "know" her. That I "feel" anything about her at all just by reading a typed word. But that is the magic of technology and the Internet and those still willing to take the time to "interact" such as we did today in emails and such as I am doing this moment with and for a supposed public audience in this blog right now.

I'm interacting.

And if you're a savvy person you can glean from my words precisely what I am feeling right now simply by applying and immersing yourself in the words before you.

That is also the magic of writers. And some very few "chatroom hanger outters." Not many, but a few.

We understand the diplomacy, the GIVE-TAKE, the care, the concern, the weight of the written word. Hell the weight of the word. Shit let's even take it back further to the weight of the thought and how all this can be used for good. For interaction. To be social beings even when faced with the construct of typed ascii characters rather than micro gestures and facial expressions and face to face communications. How is it that I can "know" someone who lives in the south east United States this well?

By the blessing of the Internet.

And believe you me, the 'Net can be the most wretched curse too, in some instances!

But not in this case. Quite the opposite, thank God.

And by our wanting it to ~BE~ a friendship. Ongoing. Continual. Purposeful. With a lot of love, care and concern for the other's thoughts, feelings and emotions expressed in "the typed out word."

Overcoming obstacles to keep pushing on and trying to live our lives like decent human beings rather than savage scavengers out to quench some cyber-lust or just generally eff with people for no other reason because it's fun to do.

Levels.

Just as it is in the real world.

Because we want this to be different.

And we have made it all different by being friends, Angie and I.

Just an all around wonderful person to know and someone I am proud to call a friend.

I love ya hon, happy Tuesday!

And thank you for being my friend.

Hugs,

Mikey!

P.S. and thank you for spending my Monday September 8th , 2008 with me all day, darlin'!

You rock!

Friday September 5, 2008

2008-09-05T08:32:00.000-05:00

I want to start out by saying for the record - I am sorry I have not used this web log for backstabbing. I have not used it for recipe sharing. I have not entered a single log entry that dealt with politics. I have only mentioned sports, that I can recall, twice. (Once this week and once when the Chicago Bears met the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl, year before last.) In the time this web log has been around, I have never written about Norman Mailer, Enrico Fermi or Tanya Tucker.

But if Steve Allen’s PBS television series about round table discussions with dead people from the past, Meeting of the Minds, could be updated and combined with a round table discussion with people still alive, Norman Mailer, Enrico Fermi and Tanya Tucker would make for some interesting television viewing.

Mailer could talk about being a writer in the United States in the nineteen fifties, Fermi could talk about radioactive isotopes and Tanya Tucker could explain why she stayed with Glenn Campbell all those years if the relationship was so abusive. I mean it must have been on the cover of the National Enquirer a dozen times back in the day, no? (I mean what was she thinking, you know?)

I will not be mentioning any person - real or imaginary - in any kind of negative light in the blog. . . . . . . . . . .today.

Isn’t that sad?

While some people blog about their classmates in junior high, blog about actors, musicians and other members of the glitterati in Hollywood, some blog about things political, others blog about activism and the causes they believe in, here’s old MikeC blogging about a spiritual life, and internal life, thoughts, feelings and emotions that he has about what it means to be an active member of various spheres of influence he comes into contact with on a daily basis.

I talk about love, loves lost, loves found, the incongruity I see in myself and the inconsistencies I see in society as a whole and in others. Thoughts, feelings, emotions and how having these things effect human beings of good conscience living in modern society.

I write about trends in behavior over the last fifty to a hundred years and how the societal influence of those trends is contrary to just kind of being different and kind of being “me,” and can fly in the face of what’s normal, what’s expected and what is the accepted mode of behavior in any given situation or circumstance. Particularly as I age and mature.

I don’t blog about “merlot wine,” “Axl Rose and the new Guns and Roses” or “the epistemological argument.”

But I promise to try to in the future. I mean if that's what you guys want. . . . .

Happy Friday and happy weekend all!

Thursday September 4, 2008 (troix)

2008-09-04T20:57:00.002-05:00

. . .just got back from a swim. . .

16 miles in the pool since February of this year. Not bad for a fat guy!

WOOHOO!!!!

Swam the quarter mile tonight, the half last night and filled in squares (which previous lifeguards have taken down after the season was over) that showed my progress so far this year.

16 miles.

YAY ME!

:-)

Thursday September 4, 2008 (deux)

2008-09-04T19:32:00.004-05:00

Trying to recapitulate going through all the chaos and heartbreak that’s been going through my heart, mind and soul the last five years or so. Falling in love or what you think is love with somebody.

One sided love is just not where it’s at. It’s just not where it’s at!

Especially if you’re the more sensitive one or the one that loves more. Because you find yourself becoming obsessed after a while. And then it’s not even love anymore. Is it interest? Is it love? Is it an obsession? Is it an honest care for somebody? Being apart from the person you want to be with and wondering what’s going through the other person’s mind. Are they just living their lives or are they thinking about you ever? Particularly when they’re not demonstrative.

It seems like just so much beating your head up against a wall for nothing. For no reason.

I’ve seen myself do it.

Try as you might to keep yourself distant from your object of affection. You know the second where you get to that point where you want to talk to that person all the time - thinking about them all the time and wanting to call them all the time - and just getting crumbs in return - it’s just the worst thing possible. It’s the worst feeling possible in the world for someone that’s got a soft heart or a kind heart or someone that genuinely cares for somebody else when you don’t feel like you’re getting the same type of caring in return from the person of your affection.

And it’s really hard to experience, it’s really hard to live through, it’s really hard to watch someone else live through too.

MJC
04/06/07

So be careful out there, folks. You never know whart other things you may miss out on because of "focusing" on stupid shit like this.

Take things easily.

"Wear the world like a loose garment."

--Pope John Paul II

(if at all possible)

Happy eve of the weekend, folks!

:-)

Thursday September 4, 2008

2008-09-04T08:28:00.003-05:00

I am a north side Chicagoan. And with my last two blog postings from this week, yesterday and the day before, I am reminded of an Episode of “One Day at a Time” where Bonnie Franklin writes a “for whom the bell tolls” letter to the corporate big shot in her company and gets shot down and actually called a crackpot when in all actuality, the episode stands as a reminder as to how voices in the wilderness, no matter how strongly protest some injustice, are rarely ever heard and subject to more scrutiny than the injustices they seek to change a lot of the times.

That’s how I view my last two day’s blogs. And most of all the material I put out here in the ether. “Howling at the moon.” I have even gone so far to satirically call whatever this is, my "twisted Unibomber manifesto” on life. Neither one is actually true and yet both are in some small measure partially correct.

For example, I seldom if ever write about sports if any of you have noticed. That is because I am a north side Chicagoan. The Chicago Cubs are a stone’s throw away from my little apartment. I have always lived in short distance from Wrigley Field, went to many a Cub’s game while growing up and even got a job ushering and ticket taking during my high school years part time and ended up working at every major sports facility in the city, including Wrigley Field for almost 4 years the the late seventies, early eighties.

From late 1978 to 1981-ish I worked at Soldier Field, the old Comiskey Park, the Chicago Stadium (the predecessor to the house that Michael Jordan built: The United Center), The International Amphitheater and various other venues showcasing rock concerts and other special events. I even worked at wedding receptions (in Highland Park, Deerfield and Park Forest), far north of the city, that very rich people had thrown (in their expansive backyards under beautiful white tents, kind of like the movie, The Father of the Bride with Steve Martin) to park cars and generally stand around in my usher’s uniform and look official.

(Holy parentheticals, Batman!)

Being a Chicagoan, at that time, and doing what I did, part time to earn some kind of wages for extra money while living at home and going to high school and for the first year of college – was quite the experience. (Another blog for another time.)

But this morning, apparently, things around town and not just the north side of Chicago are all “atwittah” and abuzz with the fact our Chicago Cubbies have now lost - as of last night's loss to the Houston Astros - 5 games in a row in a season that has thus far held a lot of promise. And for as much as a lot of hope has been placed on the shoulders of manager Lou Pinella, I’m not sure he really gets it.

According to Wikipedia, Pinella has been ejected, as a major league baseball manager, sixty-one times from a major league baseball game. Does this make old Lou an expert at the “the art of the deal,” or simply a hothead?

Interesting question. The closest our Cubbies came in recent memories was against the Florida Marlins a few years ago whereby “the Bartman ball” prevented us from moving forward in the playoffs. And yet we here, on the northside have “loss” ingrained into our psyches to such an extent, at least those who’ve long suffered the Cub’s losing ways (and not the 20 something, thirty something sports bar, yuppie types who root for the Cubs because everyone else in their little northside yuppified neighborhood is) that at this point, with 5 losses in a row in an otherwise great season (the Cubs were 35 over 500, now they are just 30 over) I truly get the feeling that even die hard fans won’t believe it until they see it.

It’s like, “Eh. . .? Whatever.”

That’s what it’s like sometimes, being a Cub fan.

Does Pinella "get" that?

And until we get hot about all this, be it angry or outraged, that we can be this close and not win or not even make it to the playoffs, I don’t think it really matters to many northsiders – until they actually see the Cubs in some kind of serious contention here.

One thing seems to be apparent through all this - until, we become hotheads and get ourselves ejected from the game, our northside Cubbie subculture of “loss” will probably continue for a few more generations, no?

Eh. . . . I’m going to buy a hotdog and go eat it in the park and mull this one over.

Whatever.

: - )

>grin<

MJC

Happy Thursday everyone!

(Thanks to Billy H. for some of the stats in this article.)

Tuesday September 2, 2008

2008-09-02T19:47:00.005-05:00

My whole life I have been spoon-fed, had dished out to me, been told that the strength of a man lies in his ability to be macho. It’s been in movies, on television, told to me by my male counterparts in grammar school, high school, college and the bar scene in my twenties and my circle of friends growing up.

In all honesty I grew up with a bunch of misfits. I consider myself a misfit too. But at 46, I am “one up” (not that I am trying to play that game or anything) on a lot of the people I grew up with by adhering to one simple credo:

“Don’t believe the bullshit!”

I try to live my life without boundaries such as the whole “machismo” thing. You lose out on a lot of stuff by not buying into it. For example, I lose out on having that “Paris Hilton” “That’s hot!” - type of girl who knows nothing about what it would be like to be a female counterpart of an actual functioning household in modern society, or even a mother for that matter, in the style of other twenty, thirty and forty something Moms raising children and being wives to their husbands in today’s world.

Ahhh, but you got me, don’t you? You see my double standard in that last paragraph shining through like a “red alert” saying, “Stand clear of this one. He’s got his head up his ass.” On the contrary. No boundaries would mean no boundaries. For me. For a female counterpart. No expectations. No limits. No preconceived notions as to how I might construct a life with a member of the opposite sex. Devil-may-care, let the chips falls where they may, fly by the seat of our pants and hit the ground running, no? Just two kids trying to make something out of nothing.

Not so.

Not in the experiences I have had thus far in my life.

There has always been a preconceived notion as to how I would react, behave and carry myself as a male counterpart - coming from a female. Try as one might in their own behavior to exemplify the happy go lucky, it’s all good type of mentality, when the pressure’s on, it’s either fight or flight, baby.

Let me explain instead of burying you, gentle reader, with a host of cliches that do more harm than good.

Without a ground work or a basis of understanding of what traditional male and female roles have been in the last however many years - let’s just say for the sake of this blog post, a hundred - there cannot be a “no boundaries” attitude. There must be boundaries in order for a person to espouse a “no boundaries” attitude. “No boundaries” means not dignifying the societal norms and roles that have thus far been assigned to males and females in functioning and / or non-functioning modern day relationships.

In order to have one and legitimize it, you must know the other in order to say, “I don’t believe that will work for me.”

If that’s true, then we harm ourselves. And we harm others in the process.

Any two individuals coming together, perhaps, will have their own individual stamp of behavior, mode of being, their own flow to the way in which they conduct themselves. But that won’t stop couples from having the same stories to share. The “stuck in traffic argument” for no other reason because you get punchy in bumper to bumper traffic. The “who cooks, who washes the dinner plates, who dusts, who vacuums, who does laundry, who takes out the garbage” discussions, arguments, pow wows because all of that goes with the upkeep of a household be it in a mansion or a one room shanty.

And that is probably why at 46 I am still alone. Simply because I do not possess the wherewithal to be sole bread-winner. Apparently I am not aggressive enough to be the “hunter-gatherer” type to the kind of girl I have had come into my life so far. The “woo me, buy me, cater to me,” type of modern day princess who quite sincerely and honestly and openly feels, believes and suggests that she is “worth it” simply because “she showed up.”

She showed up.

She came.

She made her presence felt in your life.

Now the ball is in your proverbial court, handsome.

Now let’s see what you will do, big boy.

Nuh uh!

No way!

Eat shit and die, pampered princess!

Go away!

Leave me alone!

Get a clue. Or buy one with your trust fund!

I am not an automaton raised for you to extract from me my, blood, sweat, tears, money and other things I might biologically produce or manufacture in some other way.

If you are in, you are ~ALL~ in.

Take your bon-bons and shove ‘em!

If you’re worthy of a life of fidelity, live a life of fidelity.

If you think you’re worthy of benevolence, show benevolence.

And if you are worthy of the best life possible of warmth, caring, understanding, legitimate 50-50 all the way down the middle kind of lifestyle in a relationship with a man - then live it, be it, do it for heaven’s sake!

I feel in my heart of hearts, it was always precisely the benevolence, mercy, warmth, compassion, caring, and predisposition for unconditionally loving that a princess exemplified in the fairy tales of old that made the prince be a better man, try harder, do better, work longer, to impress the princess or even her mother or father with feats of chivalry, bravery and protection and not just because she was the king’s daughter or because she happened to be pretty.

I think we got it all backwards today.

And I can think this and not feel bad about thinking, feeling or believing ~ANY~ of this.

Because I am still a prince. . .

. . .in search of his princess.

And if I never find her?

Oh, well.

:-) :-) :-)

>grin<

MJC

P.S. Grist for the mill tonight. Something to think on. Maybe even show my ignorance. My blog. My thoughts tonight. Tomorrow night? All bets may be off. I may be thinking something else. Who knows?

:-)

P.P.S. And if you don't think I can manage my own life, let me just say defiantly, I have been living on my own for somewhere around eleven years, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry trying to live the life decent people live and I'm here to write about it. Oh, and I have this awesome chicken cattiatore thing about 40 minutes from being done. I can hardly wait to dig in. The smells in this little apartment are phenominal right now! It would be nice to share some of this with someone. If not. . . .? More leftovers for me tomorrow. OMG! THUD! LOL! :-) Eat ya hearts out! :-) :-) :-)

. . .er, uh, um, I mean Happy Remainder of the week everyone! :-)

Wednesday August 27, 2008

2008-08-27T08:45:00.003-05:00

Main Entry: mi•cro•cosm

Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin microcosmus, modification of Greek mikros kosmos
Date: 15th century
1: a little world; especially: the human race or human nature seen as an epitome of the world or the universe
2: a community or other unity that is an epitome of a larger unity
— mi•cro•cos•mic, adjective
— mi•cro•cos•mi•cal•ly, adverb
— in microcosm : in a greatly diminished size, form, or scale

Webster defines microcosm thusly. (see above) Everything that I have felt, sensed, experienced, thought, known about my own “little world” comes from how I was raised, the manner of behavior I exemplified which was monitored and coaxed into various offshoots; my horizons were expanded by those whom tried to guide me to legitimacy of existence.

Living transparently, openly, honestly, being a forthright person, fair, disciplined, good-natured, caring, with a discerning eye as to what’s right for me and what is silly and foolish behavior are all parts of my learning experience in my “little world.”

It is not a miracle that I have lasted this long. It is not a miracle that I am still alive. It is not a miracle that I am not incarcerated, broke or living on the streets. I have the very basics – “enough to get by and a wee bit more.” (How my mother describes what she hopes her winnings will be every time I step into a casino with her and ask her about her day’s expectations.)

In my “little world” within this bigger world, I am also aware of what is lacking, as well. I lack the machismo, dashing good looks, certainty of opinion and leadership qualities of those such as maverick cowboys, Wall Street tycoons, bar room know-it-alls and the Brad Pitts, Tom Sellecks and Tom Cruises of the world however they do not possess my world view, my vision or my ability to know with the certainty with which I know who I am.

It is not a miracle that I know who I am, either.

It has all come from my living in my microcosm. Questioning. Curiosity. Research. Thought. Mental exercise. Manifestations of my inner world exercises defining that material with which I behave while living in my microcosm.

There was a Reuter’s article this morning about a woman whose cat, during plumbing construction and the replacing of pipes in her bathroom, was tiled into the floor beneath her bathtub and remained there for seven weeks! “Bonny” was rescued after her meowing could be heard and was nursed back to health by her owner, Monika Hoppert.

”It’s a miracle!” is the news bite, Reuters reports as Monika’s reaction to having found her cat still alive.

A miracle is a coma patient awakening, recovering and going on to leading a productive life.

A miracle is a terminal illness that goes into remission or is somehow cured.

A miracle is feeding 5000 people on a few loaves of bread and some fish.

But not this. Someone should tell this woman that finding her cat after 7 weeks of being tiled into a bathroom floor is not a miracle.

But Monika managing to navigate through her “little world” without being committed into the “Home for the Criminally Stupid?”

Now, ~THAT’S~ a miracle!!!

>grin<

: - ) : - ) : - )

Happy Hump Day, everyone!

MJC

Wednesday August 20, 2008

2008-08-20T08:32:00.002-05:00

Saturday I picked up a dental appliance replacing two lower left back teeth that were extracted in March. After some molds and fittings, Saturday was the day for me to finally pick it up and start using it. My dentist, for brevity’s sake, calls it a “flipper.”

In a way, it is a precursor to what dentures might eventually feel like. It’s like this pink, tooth colored (where they teeth are), and chrome spiky, hooked biker thingy, so in one sense, it’s kind of cool. On the other hand – with some tooth being grinded away on two teeth in two spots so that it kind of snaps into place among my remaining teeth – it’s a reminder of what is to come.

I’ve cleaned it every night; brushed the appliance well, and it does feel pretty cool to be able to chew on my left side again, but. . . .

It’s not a retainer. Gums and teeth shift and move. What it actually does is allow me to apply force and pressure on my left side, mimicking the normal chewing I used to do when I still had my two lower left back teeth and I’ve been forcing myself to chew on that side since Saturday, keeping the appliance in until bedtime - because I have not been able chew on my left side since I got the teeth extracted earlier this year.

My gum is sore below the surface of the pink plastic part but not all the time and this morning, while eating a Hostess Ho-Ho-like product with coffee, I actually felt the appliance give a little.

This whole experience with this appliance since Saturday has been uncomfortable, painful and weird.

And rather than upload a picture of how imperfect my teeth and smile is in all actuality, let me just say I have never had perfect teeth and always felt self-conscious about the gaps and spaces I have between them. Now, with the advent of this appliance, dental confidence is way low, I can tell you that! But I suppose switching chewing sides is an option now given back to me, which I suppose is a good thing?

But, let all this be a lesson to you young chewers and eaters out there. . . .

Life can be long or short, but try and keep your teeth as long a humanly possible. Because you have two legs, ears, eyes, arms and hands – but you only have one set of teeth!

MJC

P.S. I am reminded of Ren’s “steenky gum holes” in the cartoon “Ren’s Toothache.” And as funny as that particular Ren and Stimpy cartoon was. . . . .

It’s kind of hitting home the last few days. . . .since "flipper" arrived.

Saturday August 16, 2008

2008-08-16T18:15:00.003-05:00

Saturday August 16, 2008. The 2008 Air and Water Show in Chicago from the lakefront and Irving Park Road. Please view my pictures of The Blue Angels ---> CLICK HERE!

Thursday August 14, 2008

2008-08-14T08:23:00.001-05:00

“I’m going back to the start. . .”
--The Scientist, Coldplay

DATELINE – Chicago, Illinois, November-ish, 2003. I return to one of my first loves: writing. I write two poems, one, deep and personal about how I was feeling about a new chat service and the prospect of meeting and maintaining a completely new online friendship, and the other about online “relationships.” Life - subsequently and directly related to these and a series of events around that time - changes forever. (. . .and I have not stopped writing since!)

So there you have it. Formulating thoughts, ideas, prose, poetry, fiction, comedy, feelings, emotions, opinions deposited over at Moontown Café, my writer’s corner, a haven for and the source of inspiration for many a creative writer. Member since March of 2004 in both free and paid subscriptions.

One year later, March of 2005, a web log begins. A year or so later, web logs are copied to my MYPSACE almost on a daily basis.

So many things, deeply personal. So many issues left unresolved. So many questions asked and left unanswered. So many answers achieved but not quite how I expected them to manifest themselves. Deep conflict. Great mysteries. Sunk into nadir, lifted into nirvana. Joys, sorrows, suffering, celebratory jubilation. Friends made, friends lost, friends embraced, friends left to their own devices. Understandings reached. Some remain ever the mystery. Loves lost. Loves found. Comparisons. Differences. Death. Birth. Rebirth. Struggle.

I do not write because I need writing. I write, it turns out, because writing needs me.

I do not write to change the world. I write so that it may change me.

These two last things are pretty as close to “all I know” right now as I probably will ever come.

And one other last thing I know is that. . . .

”I want to believe.”
--seen on a poster hanging in fictional television character Fox Mulder’s office in the television program, The X Files.

Wednesday August 13, 2008

2008-08-13T21:09:00.001-05:00

Links to my pictures from the 2008 Boone County Fair in Belvidere, Illinois from Tuesday August 5th to Sunday August 10th.

Enjoy!

Saturday August 9, 2008

2008-08-09T12:09:00.002-05:00

Saturday August 9, 2008

DATELINE - Belvidere, Illinois. This week has been my vacation. I’ve spent it out by Mom’s in beautiful downtown Belvidere, Illinois along with my Aunt Violet who’s visiting here from Hungary for six weeks.

For those who don’t understand, no explanation will suffice. For those who do understand, no explanation is necessary.

Imagine if you will not having the extended family that you may have surrounding you around you. Bearing in mind that you may have aunts, uncles, cousins within some travelable area and bearing in mind you may actually have seen your grandparents and interacted, communicated easily with any or all family and extended family members your entire life, imagine not having that.

That’s been my life.

And the few times we have been to Hungary to visit family or we have had the good fortune to bring specific members of out extended family to us, have been probably some of the coolest memories I have had in my entire life.

At my web log, address (http://www.sparechangeandparadigms.blogspot.com) I have recently put a link above “My Self Esteem Project” in the upper left hand corner that will direct you to three of my web log entries entitled, “In Memorium I, II and III” having to do with my Father and Mother’s flight from communist Hungary in 1956 and because I felt it necessary to recount some of that experience for posterity since we lost my father in these last few years.

Regular visitors to this web log, if you have not read those web log entries, please avail yourself to those clickable links today and check out their story.

Also, having said all that, we now, since 1998 - with having had three of my father’s sisters who were old enough to remember 1956 and my parent’s flight to freedom - come to America, we are now hearing what that time and the time following was like for them as the main family from which my father came.

These oral historical stories are burned into my heart for life and I would not trade them for anything in the world!

Again, for those who don’t understand, no explanation will suffice. For those who do understand, no explanation is necessary.

Very happy to once again have met my Aunt Violet and to be able to spend time with her - as I was just as happy to remeet my Aunt Julia and Aunt Yoli, who were both here to visit in the United States, since 1998 and am having a wonderful time in beautiful downtown Belvidere, Illinois.

Hope you are all well, gentle readers and hope to write more soon!

Tuesday August 5, 2008

2008-08-05T14:26:00.002-05:00

POEM

To laugh at passing days and think
life begins anew
is to take away from what was felt
amid the azure hue

of skies so blue and clouds so white
I lived within our haze
only to have you laugh out loud
at those sweet and passing days

I raised a hand and prayed so much
for you to send some sign
or drop a note, cast your vote
throw out a proverbial life-line

laughing at these passing days
hurts more than you’ll ever know
to think we’ve missed the clarion all
and have nothing left to show

words left unspoken
a hand that was raised
hearts poised in perfect place
skies so blue and clouds so white
preoccupied, lacked grace

wisdom knows that it takes two
not just one hand all upraised
to clasp another outstretched hand
to make whole these earthly days

then raised hands, waiting, hoping
wishing, and prayer too
would fade and ne’er return for
us, because our life began anew

How sad to think we could
be so selfish
not to offer one another a sign
as passing days and laughter
echo eternally
through space and time

MJC

Friday August 1, 2008

2008-08-01T19:04:00.003-05:00

Took Mom to Kuma's for dinner this evening: Chicago's only rock and roll hambuger to die for! OMG! YUM!

We had the green pea and prochiutto macaroni and cheese and the "Slayer" buger!!!

Grilled onion, peppers, chili, Mozarella cheese, half pound burger on top of a bed of fresh cut French fries! THUD!

Check it out at the link above.

Great food.

Awesome ambiance.

Burger's named after heavy metal bands.

Waitresses and hostesses dressed in black tee's and makeup.

I'm the only guy in my age group I know that can take his mother to dinner to a place like this and have her like the ambiance, marvel at the tattooed waitresses and claim the food - of its kind - was the best she ever tasted!

I did good!

And the expression on her face when they bought her "Slayer" to the table?

Worth every penny!

Happy weekend, all!

hugs and fivers

MJC