Does That Make Me Crazy?

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm a sniveling little liberal pig with a bleeding heart for the oppressed. Maybe I'm on the edge all by myself cranking out crazy ideas like Stephen King on meth. Or maybe - just maybe - I'm a sensible American who pays his taxes and votes and loves his country in spite of its faults. I like the latter. I believe in this country; I believe in its legal system, way of life, its freedoms, and its lack of freedoms as security demands. And I believe that if I am accused of a crime, even if it is a crime that everyone believes is completely in my character, that I should be tried for that crime and a jury should decide my fate. I believe that if the police completely bumble the case against me in an attempt to shore up an already stalwart body of evidence and their mistakes lead to an acquittal, then bully for me. Having been tried and a finding made, I should be able to live my life as I please just like any other human being. After all, no one can say with any certainty whether I am guilty of said crime unless they themselves were witnesses to the crime. And I would take it a step further: I think there should be two witnesses to make an accusation since the word of one witness can not be corroborated.
I'm speaking, of course, of Orenthal James Simpson, the infamous accused double murderer who was acquitted by a jury of his peers. Folks, it's time to stop coddling the Brown and Goldman families. I understand that what they suffered was difficult to say the least and I would not wish such an experience on the lowliest Kazakh. But come on, people, it's time to move on. Large groups of people are not going to boycott Regan Books or Fox based on this O.J. thing. People generally don't care anyway, but aside from that this issue is not important. It's certainly important to the Brown and Goldman families, but they won't be able to have any effect on the publisher or the network.
I feel sorry for them. It's not because they have suffered such a mortifying loss, but because reporters still give them a platform. These poor people are deceived into thinking that people care because the media have given them so much attention. Journalists are dirt. Let those people mourn in peace so they can get on with their lives, for the Sake of Pete. In fact, let them go sit and have a nice tiny cup of Pete's Sake and relax and find some stinking closure already. Gepeto H. Xmas, people it’s been more than a decade! Let those two star-crossed lovers sleep in peace!

Rumors of My Death...

I'm still alive. Jack is playing The Beastie Boys' "Brass Monkey" right now and although I don't dwell in a castle in Brooklyn, I do agree that those with "beef" should get beat to a pulp.
I just enrolled in college for the first time in 10 years or so and in another 10 years I'll still be seeking my baccalaureate. I can't take online classes because of my computer situation. When I blog, I blog from work because I live in the small Egyptian town of Bumfuck where there is no high speed internet and the wires are so old even a modem can't connect at higher than 28,800 kbps. Remember those 28k modems? Man, I thought those things were awesome when they first came out. With a 28k modem you could download War and Peace in only 247 days. That's space age technology right there, I tell you what. I had my house on the market for a year and no one wanted it. I found out later that even though we had reduced the price about 4 months into it, the realtor never changed the listing in MLS. Awesome. I love it when people take pride in their work. So anyway, I may actually start blogging again because 1. no one will read anything I write, and 2. being in college will require tons of writing and maybe that will get some creative juices flowing. Not to mention the fact that I'll have lots of interesting stories to tell about my fellow "adult" students.
It turns out I'm not "traditional-aged." That's right. I have been identified in a PC way for the first time in my life. Now I have all kinds of stuff popping into my head. Is it possible I'm "glutally challenged" because of my flat ass? Does my slighty brown skin make me a "caucasian of non-traditional anglo descent?" Am I a "multi-cultural American?" Crap! I'm "non-denominational!" I'm not losing weight, I'm "right-sizing!"
Speaking of right-sizing, my company is dying a slow death it breathlessly refers to as "The Way Forward." More like the way downward. I mean seriously, do you tear a house down to the foundation to rebuild it? I mean, if the roof is off of the thing, the rain will get in and mess up the cabinets, furniture, doors. The walls will corrode and fall off and soon raccoons will move in and we will be unable to chase them off with a broom. Next thing you know the chupacabra will move into a closet and terrorize the children as he rips the flesh of the poor raccoons from their bones. But I digress. Clearly, I've gone way the hell off subject, if there was one in the first place.
Oh! I never pierced my nethers, I got over that when I heard you have to sit down to pee. I do that enough as it is, no need adding to it. Also I've had the old sack worked on, and the recovery was less than pleasant. Or it may be that I subconsciously remember my circumcision, which was terrifying and went horribly wrong. It's easy to see that too much was taken from me. I can only hope that some hapless burn victim benefited from my penile disfigurement. Of course with my luck the skin was most likely preserved until recently when doctors began using foreskin in penile enlargement surgery. I only know that because I saw it on Plastic Surgery: Before and After. Don't get any ideas.

Cold Showers

My hot water heater died last night. It's a tankless on-demand water heater that isn't very common, so I have no idea who to call. I think most people call plumbers for a water heater problem, but I figure they are used to cleaning up the mess from a leak and then installing a new one. Tank water heaters aren't usually modular; they usually just get replaced. My water heater is the size of a computer and it's built in a similar fashion. It consists of 4 heating elements, two control chips, a few water temperature sensors, and lots of wires. Any one of those parts can be replaced rahter than replacing the entire unit. Maybe it's just me, but that doesn't sound like a plumber issue. But on the other hand, can I get an electrician to listen to a word I say after "water heater?" In any case, I decided to send an e-mail to the tech support address of the company that manfactured the water heater. Here it is:

My Model 220 stopped working last night. I hit the reset button on the
far left and heard a click and saw a blue flash through one of the
vents on the side. I removed the cover to make sure nothing was on fire
and noticed that the second electrical connection from the right is
black and slightly melted. The connection has a black wire going into
it from the home electrical supply. Neither one of the double pole 50
amp breakers was tripped, but the unit is completely out of order. Our
hot water supply is ice cold and the unit is not making the sounds we
are used to hearing from it. Do I need to call an electrician? Is this
a problem you have seen before? The unit and the house are just shy of
4 years old and it has worked beautifully since day one, so I don't
think there was any problem with the connection. I don't know whether
my builder filled out the warranty card or not and I don't have the
names/license numbers of the installers, so I don't think I can make a
warranty claim. But at this point, I just want to find out how to fix
it. Thanks in advance for your help.

Pretty simple, right? Not for Carlos, the guy that got the e-mail. Here's his response:


Call us tomorrow for an RA number so you can ship the unit in to us to hav eit repaired....

One important little piece of information I haven't mentioned is that this company is located in Miami, Florida. I live in the Dallas, TX area. It's the first day of March. Since transporter technology has yet to be invented, I would have to send the unit via snail-mail. Then they would have to repair it. Then, assuming that transporter technology hasn't been invented yet, they would have to ship it back to me, again via snail-mail. I guess I'm supposed to boil water and pour it in the tub until then and only wash my cold water clothes. What's more, I am not licensed to remove the thing from it's moorings on my garage wall. It's not that I couldn't remove it, after all I'm Mexican. But I'm not supposed to remove it. So I'm not going to remove it. Nor am I going to live for 6 weeks without hot water.

I have to wonder if I'll ever come across a situation like this where I'll be able to talk to someone intelligent with some pride in their work. To add insult to injury, I called my builder (who's also a good friend of mine) last night to see if he could help me find a good electrician I can trust, and he promised to call me back with a recommendation. I couldn't possibly have expected anything different based on past experience, but he never called. Nice, huh? Oh yeah, and in order to make a warranty claim, I have to get the names, phone numbers, and license numbers of the plumber and electrician that installed the unit. That information would come from none other than my builder. What a wonderful day!

Call Me "Pierce"

Is there anyone left with that name?

Anyhoo, I've become suddenly obsessed with piercing. Really obsessed.

I guess I've had a sort of pleasure/pain thing for a while, especially since my first tattoo. During extended pain, I mentally comfort myself with a vision of the endorphins flooding my veins and the resulting euphoria. I actually enjoyed the surgical removal of all four of my wisdom teeth because the anaesthesia got me so wasted, dude. I also have fond memories of my tooth-grindingly painful vasectomy because I got to take a valium beforehand, and valium is some fun stuff. There was also the Tylenol 3 afterward, which is like ecstasy "Light" for me.

I am currently stretching the ear piercings I've had since my teen years, and I enjoy the feel of snugness from the larger jewelry when I stretch up. Two days ago I pierced my right ear in a different spot. I used a 12 gauge nail with the head cut off, and pushed it through slowly (out of necessity more than anything). It was fairly painless, even though I went through a little bit of cartilage. I have to admit, it was strangely enjoyable. My lobe piercings I did myself also, but I numbed the area with ice beforehand, so there was no pain at all, just strange noises as the needle went through. I almost wish I would have done it without the ice so I would know what it feels like to pierce such thick, soft tissue. Why, you might ask? Well.....

I've recently become completely fascinated with "other" piercings that only my beautiful and loving bride would know about.

Let's stop here and review the sentence above. As I began this little journey into the world of Mitch's piercings, I considered and then rejected the idea of talking about those of the intimate variety. But I don't know where else to go with the topic if not there. I mean, who under 40 doesn't have at least one pierced ear, right? Pierced ears, wow…big freakin' deal. Pierced eyebrows? Great if you're white trash. Pierced nose? Girls and people with face tattoos love 'em. Pierced nipples? Two words: man boobs. Pierced love tackle? Now THERE'S a topic. So many questions arise: Did it hurt? Does it stink? Can you still make snu-snu? Do you pee upward now? Has it ever gotten caught in your zipper? Are you still going to heaven? You know, all the standard stuff.

Keep in mind that I haven't procured any extra intimate holes in my body, nor have I made the decision to do so. At this point, I just have a fascination. And although I haven't discussed it with her yet, I can pretty much guaran-damn-tee that my wife is as interested in me piercing my hang-down as she is in my hang-down. Zing!

But it's a fascination I'm having a hard time getting rid of. Sometimes I'll have an interest in something, and I'll get on the internets and read about it until I can't stand it anymore, and then it's over. Not so with the piercing thing, and I guess it's because of the sexual aspect of it. Anything of that nature always grabs my attention and won't let go. At least not until the wife shoots it down. Zing!

In any case, I haven't decided yet and the nature of such things is always a concern when I think about my position in the church (no, that wasn't a double entendre). I mean, if people know about it, will they still see me the same? Is it possible for me to have a piercing down there and still be respected, I mean inasmuch as I am respected now?

Then there's the Seinfeld factor. Remember that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry tells George that he couldn't bring himself to participate in a threesome? When George incredulously asks him why he says that doing so will put him into a category to which he doesn't want to belong. He says that he'll have to grow a moustache and be "that porn guy" and get into orgies and other weird sexual stuff. Will a piercing put me in that category? I look like crap with a moustache! Not to mention orgies and stuff aren't conducive to a successful marriage, and I want that more than anything. I guess at the end of the day I'll do whatever the wife wants. That thing belongs to her anyway, so she's the one that makes the decisions.

An Angry Allah

I hate to admit it, but I relish the opportunity to offend mooslims at every chance (as long as I'm not at work). I really shouldn't be that way, but God help me I enjoy it so much. To wit, this link, which has several cartoon depictions of moohammed. Allah must be pissed!