Just this once...

I spent the weekend getting in touch with my Italian roots. I went and saw Puccini's Tosca Friday. Incredible. If you get a chance, worth it. Then Saturday, we watched the Godfather(don't worry, it was edited). I realized that if you are very careful, you can turn murder into art. I topped it all of by having a big Italian dinner on Sunday. We had meatballs, sausage, and indigestion. Mi piace la vita italiana!

Yeah, That's Right!

Do you want to see your precious b-boy?!?!??!?!?!?!?

So you thought only moms could hijack blogs?!?!? Well, we got news for you, there are also multilevel crime organizations that are interested in such practices!?!?!?! And we have some demands:
1) Root beer in all the drinking fountains, and we mean everywhere, not just at school. 2) More and more affordable lacoste shirts!?!?!?! 3) Longer weekends (and we don't mean more days... we mean actually somehow making them longer).
Unless our demands our met, you most likely won't get another post for at least a week?!?!?!?!?!?!

THE WHAT?!?!?!??!?!

I'd like to bust a rhyme and drop a line
to my man ERC, that cat is always on time
and even when I'm not he's still doin' fine
cause my boys well known from Mississippi to the Rhine
Well recognized on any plane that he be flyin' in
All the fly honeys wanna know what car he ridin' in
My homey push the whip a bonnaville on every trip
comin' quickly with the hit with all the rhymes that he flip
If big lips can sink ships then my man comes equiped with the dangerous quip to take 'em all for a dip, yep, he can kiss 'em off with the tip of his lip just as quick as the flick of a cigarette tip

Big ups to my boy ERC, better late than never.

Ghost Ridin' the Shamoo

So shall we come to look at the world with new eyes. It shall answer the endless inquiry of the intellect, — What is truth? and of the affections, — What is good? by yielding itself passive to the educated Will. ... Build, therefore, your own world. As fast as you conform your life to the pure idea in your mind, that will unfold its great proportions. A correspondent revolution in things will attend the influx of the spirit.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I feel bad. I went to church twice on Sunday, and I don't think I made the most of it. I found that if one goes to a meeting early in the day, and then goes to another later, it is very difficult for said person (me) to give the same fervor at both. So, as I sat in my second Sunday school meeting, I noticed that my sarcasm began to peak. This particular lesson was about the love of God. We were reading from John's epistles, these of course being an excellent discourse on God's supreme affection for us. The teacher put forth the question "What are things that demonstrate God's love for us?" Various members responded. Then one of them made the following statement: "I think that we can see God's love in the beautiful things around us. Why else would a flower be beautiful?" It was at this point that the unholy ether began to rain down sarcastic thoughts upon my otherwise unsullied mind. Is that the only reason? I immediately recalled what I had learned in molecular biology and Bee Movie. I nudged the friend next to me and told him that the young man's reasoning was faulty and began to describe evolutionary mechanisms that could better model the reasons for flower beauty (e.g. the attractiveness of a flower and its ability to procreate through the aid of pollination by bees). I'm pretty sure I ended up drawing some meaningless chemistry on a slip of paper just to get a laugh. I want to apologize to that guy for belittling his comment, unfortunately I cannot. I do realize however that he is right. Flowers are beautiful. Grass is green. The sea is vast. The heavens are vaulted. I don't think that science can really explain everything. Math may give us the string length; physics may give us the harmonic intervals; biology can explain how the ear perceives the note, but none can fully understand why the melody affects a person so. Let us then follow the Transcendentalists and accept that somethings simply are.
Thus we come to this picture of my grandpa. This picture is great.