Fin

This is my final post. I am a little anxious that I will miss my heart, but I will gladly take a moment of discomfort over a lifetime of misery.

There will be no more at a later time. I hope that I am worth more dead than alive.

I'm man, you're man, all man just man, man.

Living in South Dakota, I've never had the chance to hire a prostitute or escort, never paid for sexual services rendered or even a hand to hold. In fact, I don't think I've ever met a working girl.

But that won't stop me from giving my opinion and speculating on what, exactly, a situation like that can bring about in a man.

Because here's the deal: sex isn't just sex. You can whinge and gnash all you want, but there is now way to separate sex from emotion, or at least perceived emotion, or (at the very least) some sort of attachment. I mean, if you've gone ahead and made a conscious decision to engage in intercourse with another person, then you have at least a tenuous bond with that person.

Here's the thing: our sexual preferences and activities are closely guarded, and to tell another person what one or all of those preferences or activities are takes a certain amount of trust, and that trust, no matter how insignificant the amount, is perhaps the deepest sort of trust we as individuals can bestow.

I'm saying that we as a(n American) society are sexually repressed and maybe even confused, and when we allow another person into that precious little bubble, whether we've paid, were paid for the service, or have a happy and healthy relationship with a significant other, that modicum of trust and the fact that your bubble has been penetrated (pun intended) means that the both of you have been connected, have been brought together, and no amount of denial or rationalization can deny you your emotion or connection.

And that will spawn jealousy. That tiniest of connections, that smallest amount of trust, is enough to ignite in a man the most fierce of protection. What a man's is is his own, no matter how petty. Even if that is a girl paid to work for him at a moderate price for sexual services rendered, that connection is enough to grow a gnarled green spike when it is perceived to be desecrated or infringed upon.

We are all helpless in the face of personal destruction. We fall as lambs before wolves as personal security, integrity, honor or pride eat us alive, rotting us to the very core. The world in not naive and humans are not invincible. As the world burns around us, we spare no time for the living, and none for ourselves.

More another time.

new model

RE: That commercial you wanted about the new product.

Voice over a scene of hands washing themselves in a porcelain sink w/ hands frothing white soap and a clear picture of Dial soap:

Voice: We're not saying that some soaps you use leave hard-to-clean residue after you've washed your hands.

Move to a scene with hands palms upward over the same porcelain sink w/ spots of soap sticking in sink beneath hands while a bottle of Dial soap is precariously placed in the upper left-hand corner of the scene.

Voice: But we are saying that our New-and-Improved Non-Grease Anti-bacterial and -microbial Hypoallergenic Hand-and-Face Wash (Safe for Children!) has never been accused of doing so!

(Bolded text indicates Closed Captions for the Hearing Impaired.) Show hands over same sink after washing w/ thumbs up and spotless porcelain sink and very clearly a bottle of the new Product in the upper-right side of the scene.

Voice: Not only will our New-and-Improved Non-Grease Anti-bacterial and -microbial Hypoallergenic Hand-and-Face Wash (Safe for Pets, too!) take care of your hands and face, but it will save your sink from oily deposits of soap and keep you sink cleaner, longer!

This is voiced over a scene that moves from a boy washing his dog w/ the Product in the yard while the boy uses a hose to rinse a shaggy and frothy Golden Retriever, the a pair of man's hands caked w/ mud and dirt or greened with grass using a bottle of the Product in the left corner of the scene w/ a switch to those same hands over the same sink (this sink a metal sink w/ crank handles for hot and cold) clean and seemingly smooth rubbing themselves while dry to show hands that are tough but well-taken care of. Finally move scene to a kitchen scene over a sink with two basins (both stainless steel and one large over-hanging faucet over the right basin and a bottle of the Product on the left side) while a pair of hands and arms (up to elbows) use a gesture to display a spotless stainless steel two-basin kitchen sink.

Voice: Whether you just need a rinse, or you've really done some work, new Non-Grease Anti-bacterial and -microbial Hypoallergenic Hand-and-Face Wash (Not tested on animals!) will keep your hands feeling fresh, clean, and smooth while saving you the hassle of washing out your basin or sink after using our soap.

Final scene has man w/ safety goggle in red shirt and blue jeans using a weed eater near a tree and white picket fence then segues to a woman taking clean dished from a dishwasher on a tile floor and finally over the same porcelain sink as in the first scene, this time a woman's hands with no ring rinsing hands with no froth and a bottle of the Product on the upper-left section of the scene. Finally place picture of Product on a pedestal with yellow sunburst behind it and a blue background with the writing on Product very clear and the Logo and Product Name On the bottom of the Screen holding for three seconds. End scene.

Running time is approx. 60 seconds from start to finish.


Hope this is what you were looking for.

Just a few days late

As you may or may not know, my birthday just passed--the ninth of May, actually--making my twenty-five years old. Right now I am sitting in my parents' basement drinking the fourth of six one-pint (sixteen ounces) of Natural Ice I bought tonight in order to become intoxicated. I am also listening to The Hound of the Baskervilles on tape; I absolutely love being told a good story, and the next best thing to reading those stories is being read those stories. Brilliant. I love them, and since I lose the ability to read shortly after beginning to drink, this is probably the best solution ever.

On the other hand, I have just turned twenty-five years old, and no matter what system of measurement you subscribe to, that is a long fucking time to be around without accomplishing not a fucking thing.

And on the third hand, I'm getting some rest.

More another time.

bit of everything, really

Okay, so here I am on my iBook once again, trying to type away on this flat, small keyboard while also keeping in mind that the Shift key on my right hand side doesn't return to its original position after I push it--very disconcerting.

Let's do some tech talk right now. I had a different topic in mind but after I wrote that little introduction I forgot entirely what it was I was going to say. On the other hand, I could always use a better short term memory.

Today I continued working on the first PC I've gotten in two weeks. Yesterday I received the compy at around 1730h and began work promptly; I have been very excited to get more business, as I love doing my job. She told me that her computer was getting slow, and that she couldn't install some programs from disk, and also that her computer would stop responding after some time. So I told her I would take a look and make it all better.

So I started with a virus scan, as always. Nothing, nada, zip. Good news! Then I started digging around, rooting out superfluous programs and features, editing the startup programs and so on and so forth. Then I did the disk cleanup thing, and the defragment thing (why I still do, I can only imagine). Then last night at around 2300h I began to install the program she was having difficulty with. It took a while to install, but I got the damn thing to do it. But the program wouldn't start.

I did a little research on the program and found that it was created by a farmer and programmer in Minot, North Dakota, and that the tech support was actually the creator of the program, and he had his own 800 number to call for support. I gave it a call but, of course, there was no answer. I glued my glasses back together after some days of tolerating a partially broken frame and resolved to get some sleep. I didn't actually fall asleep until 0300h, and anyone who has stayed in bed for hours on end without prevail will know that the next day will always start late.

And it did. My first alarm went off at 0900h,the second at 0914h, the third at 0923h, and each alarm had a five-minute snooze recurring alarm that I took advantage of. And I hit each alarm until 1100h this morning before finally dragging my fat, tired, lazy (and ugly) ass out of bed and making some bad coffee. I ran out of Starbucks coffee, so I'm stuck with Java City junk. I go back to my 'shop' and sit behind my computer (also the compy which I'm working on; you've got to see this setup) and decide to uninstall the program yet again and reinstall after reboot. No dice.

So I finally call the guy up at like 1130h and tell him what is going on. He tells me that there are some extra folders installed by the program to prevent data loss in the event of an accidental uninstall, and so I ask where that is, and he tells me, so I delete the folder after uninstalling for probably the seventh or eighth time. And then I reinstall, and lo and behold! the first error message has been erased. But there are two more to deal with.

And while I was at it, I wanted to know why the computer was so god-awful slow. And also why the DVD drive seemed to be making noises, and why the computer froze when I placed different DVDs into the drive. Of course, she had a faulty DVD read/write drive. Well, that should be easy to fix, seeing as how I bought two defunct computers just last week with DVD drives!

So I switch that motherfucker out and put the new drive in and hook it up and so forth, and there you go: the DVD reads perfectly and begins installing like a real champ. But I am still getting two error messages. I've also had to run some errands for my mother, including but not limited to: getting the mail, going to the back, go back to the post office, pick up a prescription, &c. So by now it's like 1330h and I'm beginning to run out of patience. After all, I installed the program onto my personal computer without error or hiccup. So I call the guy again, and tell him that I'm having a different error this time, and he directs me to a site from which I can download the program directly to disk and install from there. We chit chat a bit and he says I should send him an e-mail with my business name and so forth because he may be interested in selling his product through me, since he is trying to get a bigger audience and I'm stuck at the crossroads of corn field and cow-shit central.

And anyway, that takes care of the second problem. So I'm only left with a single error message, but I figure that will sort itself out once a database is created for their farm business. I don't figure incorrectly often. What I'm trying to say while retaining modesty is that I fixed the problem without fully understanding what the problem is, and that I will be proven correct at a time in the future. It happens all the time, so don't be discouraged.

Anyway, then I begin to install the other program, and I am getting the same sorts of issues: the drive is a bit slow (not as bad as it was), the program hangs during installation, and the machine is so fucking slow--and it shouldn't be! And during this time I've already talked to the owner of the PC twice telling her what the issues are, what I can do to fix them, and how much it will cost her for me to fix it properly, and yet the program installed. And then I talked to Sabby, and ate dinner and had a drink with my family, and still the program installed. Then I sat in front of my father's fourty-seven inch high-definition television and turned my PlayStation 3 on and played the God of War games--and still, the program installed.

What I noticed all the while was that Norton 360, the owner's virus protection, was running, and was continually putting up status messages, reminders, and all sorts of annoying bullshit, and that each time something popped up in the corner of her screen, the install process would hang or simply stop. I thought to myself, "Self, what are the odds that this program, this king shit of all shits, that this motherfucking piece of worthless software is what is hanging her system, preventing installation of files, and generally causing this fine (damn fine!) piece of hardware to act like a piece of Dell hardware?"

So I booted into Safe Mode. The program I had been installing for the last six hours finished installation--including removal of previous files--in fewer than twenty minutes. I shit you not.

So now I have to tell her that not only was her DVD drive shot to shit, but also her two-year antivirus subscription (with about 15 months remaining) is completely worthless. I know sixty bucks isn't much to spend on a PC, esp. when it is as important as virus and malware protection, but in South Dakota, especially in the rural areas as where I live, sixty dollars is a big god damn motherfucking deal. It is almost unheard of to spend sixty dollars on a computer. Or a telephone. Or a television. Or the various services that are run through those appliances.

I mean seriously, in all seriousness now, the people I deal with each day are the ones who run computers for five, ten, even fifteen (I wish I was joking) years without any tech support, without virus protection, ,without updating, without so much as thinking about how and why that computer works.

I have some real horror stories when it comes to computers. For instance: you've all seen those people who put their computer in a corner, or under a desk, or those who pile paper and objects high upon their towers. But in this area, most of them have their towers in tight spaces inside of desks with closes doors. That is the norm around here: buy a desk with a cupboard, and run all of your wires through either a hole in the top of the desk or a hole out the back, and seal your desk up nice and tight around that pesky computer tower, so that people don't have to look in on your computer room and see how messy and disorganized you are. It is fucking frightening, I tell you.

And worse than that is the sheer stupidity surrounding technology. The other day I had to go to a man's house in order to see why he was having difficulty sending e-mails to his friends and family. I asked him what e-mail he used. He didn't know. I asked him his ISP. He didn't know. I asked him how he connects to the Internet, and he said to me, "You know, I used to be a biology teacher here--I taught your mom and dad, actually, but I'm not used to keeping up with all the jargon and computer stuff. Can you tell me: what is the Internet?" I told him it was a series of computers connected with one another that share data over a network. He looked confused. Then I told him that the Internet was what allowed him to send e-mails. He smiled and nodded and said he got it.

How about this: I went to a client's home and told her that she probably needed a new computer. It was a little old and wasn't functioning correctly, and since it would cost more to fix the damn thing than replace it, I gave her the options and prices, and she asked what could she keep and what she could throw away. I told her she should keep the LCD monitor and speakers, as well as the mouse and keyboard, since that was expensive (as I said, sixty dollars is unheard of around here), and she asked what information I could save and if she would lose anything, and I said it would all be fine. I reiterated that she needed to keep her keyboard, mouse, speakers, and LCD screen, and that all she needed to replace was the tower. She looked, then pointed at the LCD screen: "You mean this I need to keep? Isn't this what runs everything?"


So there you have it. That is what I deal with when I work with my clients. I do not I would not be the proud owner of a tech business if I didn't have them. Also, I find it a really fun challenge to explain to them what they want to know in terms they can understand. In fact, that is one of my biggest selling points: I don't give them jargon or excuses, I take time out of my day to meet them personally and explain what it is they want to know, and I stay with them and guide them until they understand what it is they wanted.

Because I'm that kind of guy. Sure, I could go around and fix problems by treating symptoms, but I can't do that when I know that there is an underlying issue, and I can't do that when I know it will happen again. And most of all, I do not simply solve problems for people: I give them the power to solves issues for themselves. It will hurt my business for them to have that knowledge, that is true, but I cannot give up my belief in the basic goodness of the human being.

And that's all I've got for tonight. More another time.

in which jesus fucks the shit-eating prophet muhammed

A country in which a man can't live by the work of his own hands because there are none willing to pay for those hands to work is not a country in which I would like to live.

This is precisely my predicament. There are certain things which I would like to posses, those things only available through currency, that currency only available through work or theft. Since I'm not a thief (I've no intent to land in jail again) that means I must offer my work to another who will exchange currency for service. Only, in America, these days employers aren't keen on spending money--on anything. That includes buying new inventory, research and development, and employees, either full time or part time. And so I, an honest working American, who wants nothing more than to put currency in my pocket in exchange for my services, am unable to eek out a living, because in America, life is money, and money is life. He who controls the money controls the universe.

Money is the source of all problems. This is taught to all Americans across all walks of life. One cannot be happy, successful, popular, intelligent, or good-looking without money. It flows in everything, and nothing flows without it.

So here's the story: I am living out of my parents' basement in small town SD, trying to operate my own business after spending a month in jail, dropping out of school, spending a summer as an alcoholic, and finally a failed suicide attempt coupled with a broken jaw and two weeks spent in a behavioral health center. I wrecked my car while sleep driving a couple months ago, meaning I have no mode of transportation that I don't have to borrow, no money that isn't spent, no business coming through to me, and no job--more importantly, no opportunity for a job.

Which basically boils down to the fact that I have no currency. I can't buy a car without it, I can't rent a house or apartment without it, and I can't operate my business effectively without capital. I am stuck between a hard place, a rock, an immovable object, and an unstoppable force. For all intents and purposes, I am stuck, buried, effed in the a.

I'm on Zoloft. I'm also on Welbutrin. I'm not sure how to spell them, but what they spell for me is depression. I've had it, have it, will probably continue to have it, and must needs stay medicated to avoid the consequences. Sure, I'm seeing a therapist about every two weeks and am taking my meds regularly, but I am fucking miserable. Absolutely unhappy. I am thinking back and wishing that my attempt had been successful. I encumber everyone I know, everyone in my life, and that hurts me. I can't repay the debts that I've racked up, either to my parents or to medical staff. Breaking your jaw is expensive work, as it cracks teeth and requires extensive work as well as some serious surgery.

This is all too much stress for me. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I don't know how to keep on living in this situation without becoming drastic. I feel like a vagrant, a vagabond, a mooch, and a leech. I dislike who I am and what I've become.

And all this, all of this, can be solved with currency. That's the true American Spirit, the real American Dream. Forget white fences, a happy family; throw away owning a home and getting a pet; disregard a productive career and hobbies to pursue in leisure: it all comes down to money. Everything requires currency, and it is my inability, no, the refutation of my services, that binds me to this existence.

Maybe I am a little picky when it comes to employment, but I believe my ideals are not out of line: I want to help customers, not solicit them. I want to be honest, no sell my soul. I want to be productive, not bureaucratic. I want to be the best person I can be and simply make money. But that isn't possible in today's America.

More at another time. I can't focus anymore tonight.

prestissimo

Well not exactly so much as to what is normal or whatever as to what can or is considered to be found within reasonable bounds of societal acceptance. So not really meaning this or that per se but just sort of in the vicinity of, you see, and then that makes it all fine.

Because we all see ourselves the way we want to be seen, or the way that we want to see us. And but so the thing is that we each think ourselves different or rare or even unique when the actual thing about it is that we are not, in fact, any of those things--that you or I are in fact just another face or piece of the puzzle in the crowd or what have you, that even though you and I are right here, that we may not look or act alike, but you can bet that out of the over seven billion people on the planet that there has to be at least one other person out there who represents you or I in exactly the same way we present ourselves here and now. Or even if you look back through time then there is almost an infinite number of people from which we can choose to match ourselves up with.

It's not discouraging, I'm not discouraged by the idea but I just think that we need to come to terms as it is with exactly who and what we are as humans, that even though we're all told that we're special or above average or we're cards or characters or jokers or what have you that the reality of it is that we are just one of the many people who are taught exactly those same things around the world and that even within our own country or state or county we are simply another person probably no different than the guy down the street. What I'm saying is that sure, a few of the people who grow up thinking they are special will actually be special and unique or rare, but the large number of those people will be just regular Janes and Johns.

I think there is a time in every person's life when he or she sits down and examines his or her life and looks on the achievements he or she accomplished and asks his or her self a very serious question, that being: Am I a genius? And it's a completely rational question, is what I'm saying, because we're conditioned to be thinking that what we as individuals have accomplished is somehow or some way not as easily or even at all accomplished by other humans on the planet, which is a small was of looking at the place but that's how we're raised and what we are taught to believe, and not exactly taught like as in taught in school but just the general zeitgeist around the whole attitudes we have of ourselves because that's the way our peers and parents have shown us to behave.

And so here we are, sitting in front of the mirror just looking into the beautiful eyes we have staring back at us looking into ourselves and we have to ask if we are true geniuses or not. And then the question is probably never answered, but not because we don't want to maybe, but more like fear of the actual answer, like the agony not of defeat but of just being a normal, everyday Joe Schmoe who hasn't done anything that some other jerk down the way can't do. That our accomplishments are meaningless, basically. And what's more is how many geniuses do you actually know, and how would you know a genius if you met one, and how could you tell that of yourself? Is it akin to being crazy, like only the crazy people believe they aren't actually crazy, and so what, asking yourself if you are genius just proves that you aren't genius because you had to ask in the first place? And where does that leave us, I mean, not you are me per se, but us as in like a society or culture or even a species, that we are all to afraid to answer our own questions because the answers to them are already answered by asking the questions.

Okay? And but here's the thing, is that how many of us sit down and then ask in the same serious manner or tone or attitude and then seriously ask ourselves if we are fools or idiots? And if we do do the same rules apply as to that of the genius or crazy question, like if we ask do we have to ask or is just asking itself a sort of answer? I mean, if you are an idiot would you know it, or would you really have to ask, since you're a complete fool? I mean if we sit down as individuals and ask if we are as individuals genius, then we should also ask in the same manner or tone if we are fools, but the reality of it is that we are just as individuals somewhere in the middle.

And don't take this as like a nod to eugenics or fascism or like the Nazis or whatever but shouldn't we also have to ask whether or not we as individuals should even be breeding, I mean like, do we have what it takes to get in and through the gene pool or do we have the kind of genetic garbage that should be avoided when it comes to our race, you know? Because there are a lot of people I know and individuals I've seen that I see and I think that you know, maybe the world would be better off, our race would be in better shape, you know, if maybe those particular people would maybe use some protection--and not for just them but, you know, for us as well--or maybe at some time maybe they should have the vas deferens cut or the tubes tied of whatever, you know, for like the betterment of all of humanity. Like I knew this guy who is a cousin of one of my friends, but the guy lives like out in Florida of whatever, right, and he's like, the worst thing I can imagine. Like, smokes lots of cigarettes--not so bad in itself--and lots of drugs, right, and just sort of can't keep his life in order, and can't keep a job, and then he goes out and gets this girl, right, this chick whose already had three kids with different guys, and so but then he gets together with her and then the two go ahead and have yet another kid and so now they're together and will probably have you know like another kid, but like how did it get like that, I mean, wouldn't you just use a condom or something after the first couple of accidents. Because I mean like I don't think either of them were really planning on kids, you know, like they wouldn't really have the means or ways to raise or efficiently care for their children, like one kid, let alone you know four of them.

So but like wouldn't you if you were one of those two just sit down one day after asking yourself if you're a genius or not also sit down one of those days and ask if you are a fool or moron or simply unfit to reproduce, like would the world really be in a better place if there was another one of you running around out there, doing the same things you did in your youth, living the same general life, or whatever? Or even if you have like an obligation to the rest of the planet and the race to maybe you know butt out this time or take one for the team, you know? Or even not even like beyond that would be the question like, if you would even have the ability to raise another human being in this world on this earth or anywhere else, like if you have the individual responsibility or ability to actually bring a child up in a healthy and responsible way to grown into an adult and you know like contribute to the rest of humanity. I mean wouldn't that be one of the questions you'd ask yourself if you were in a position that would be like close to conception for either your end or mine? I mean it can get you know pretty exciting or whatever but I mean when you look in the long run maybe taking five or ten minutes just to get some fucking silicone or whatever that maybe that would be a better idea than ricking having this kid that not only can you not bring into this world in a responsible and caring sort of way but that wouldn't even be able to atone for the sins against humanity that you've committed in your life like up to this point?

Well whatever I'm sure it will all get sorted out like one way or the other like maybe over time or whatever.

More at another point in time.

big things

I wanted very much to update the last couple of days, but owing to some unfortunate circumstances, I was unable to do so. Esp. yesterday, since I had a fierce case of the flu--and not the namby-pamby "Oh, I ache and am tired and bed-ridden" flu, but more along the line of "I didn't know I had that much fluid in my body" type of flu. It wasn't pretty.

I had considered trying to update last night, at about maybe 0130h, but I figured it was more important to rest and get well than fuck around on my iBook for a little while. Plus I can't watch netflix on my iBook since I'm not running an up-to-date OS on the damn thing. That reminds me: I need to see if I can run netflix instant streaming on Linux.

The self is the center of the universe. Always and forever. So when considering how big and important everything within the known universe is, the self should be the biggest thing there is. I mean, when taken in perspective. But what happens when teh view of that self is destroyed or left to dilapidation?

I must have been over it a thousand times. Why and why not, or perhaps how and when, perhaps there's a history, or maybe something new, or maybe there isn't an explanation, but that would seem the least probable. Taking the razer to it.

A thousand times doesn't seem like much. What I've come up with are a few possible avenues. I was going to number them but now I'm feeling like I don't want to.

I'm not an attractive man. At six four and two hundred fifty pounds, I am neither short nor slim, and rather stick out in a crowd--or more like all crowds. Unless I was in a crowd that was composed of tall and heavy men. I am also not a pretty person, either, having this complexion full of freckles, and since I avoid the sun as often as possible, I am never very tan. And I've got these beady eyes that, although hazel in appearance, I would caution anyone to get close enough to see within them. Simply an uncomfortable appearance.

I have a poor disposition. On the whole, I dislike humans. I like even less idle chatter, meaningless talk, and inane gossip. I prefer to speak when necessary or in order to exchange information which is of interest to either me or my party. I am quite a selfing human, which probably accounts for most of the reasons I perceive myself as what is traditionally called a loser.

Labels are trite and never really cover the way we perceive either ourselves or each other. But I'm going to continue. I have a wide range of interests, none of which are shared with the general public, and my sense of humor is dark and deadpan; I find humor in ironic situations and laugh often but usually inappropriately. I also make obscure references, meaning that communication with me is close to moot unless you've come with a specific goal. I am arrogant--or I was, maybe not so much now as I have been--and unforgiving, as well as intolerant and abrupt.

I didn't finish college, and that doesn't help my position--that of being an outcast. My self awareness is neither appealing nor attractive, and even though I have begun my own business, I have since learned that that is exactly what college dropouts who've no ambition or direction in life go on to do. I am highly unimpressed by myself, and expect nothing more from other humans. Also, I posses little empathy, which if you haven't run into someone who has little enough, you would know.

And that's about all I have for now. I would probably keep on going but I think this is all I can do when I am trying to watch this movie in French. It's pretty good, but I keep missing the subtitles as I type here.

More another time.

and the dead shall walk the earth

Well, it's Zombie Day once again, and we gather to increase our chances of survival as usual just in case the dead rise as the legend of Jesus indicates they may. I, for one, will not be unprepared.

And in spirit of the holiday, I took out my mosin nagant today in order to sight that mother fucker in, and I have to say, that's deadly. Before I was shooting probably six or seven inches to the right at a hundred meters, and probably a foot right at three hundred fifty meters (the reason I use inches for up close and meters for distance is because the iron sights on my mosin are made for meters, but I am a better judge with American standards with small measurements).

Iron sights are sights that are built into the gun itself, so there is a small pin sticking up at the front of the barrel and a V shape left at the back of the barrel to put that pin in. You level them off to look sort of like a w and shoot with the middle pin on your target.

In order to adjust iron sights, you have to move either the back or front sight, depending on what your gun allows. If you move the front sight, you move in the direction you are shooting off--I was shooting right, so I would move it right. If you have to move the back sight, you move it in the opposite direction.

And in order to move the front sight on my gun, I had to use a flat-tipped screwdriver and a hammer and tap the butt of the screwdriver until I moved the sights only a couple millimeters--that's all it takes. First I moved it too far, then I moved it back, then moved it back nearer the original position, but then moved it slightly back and voila--I now shoot two-inch groups of five at a hundred and fifty meters. That's outstanding, considering most people would shoot that only with a scope. Scopes are for chumps!

In fact, my gun is deadly accurate now, shooting within less then five centimeters of the target center. It's brilliant. I probably shot out forty-five rounds today, but it only took fifteen to get it sighted in properly. And now that it is sighted in, I won't have to adjust it any further, even if it took a drop or fall in the field. That's the beauty of iron sights, as opposed to a scope--the damn things are always going off one direction or the other, and it's hard to anticipate. This way if you miss the target, you can take full responsibility and know that you are simply a bad marksman.

Even better is the news that I will be turkey hunting this year, and that I will be taking my mosin out to shoot one of the giant birds. They are seriously big fucking birds. And since my gun is so accurate and the iron sights are dead on, I could probably take a bird with confidence at three hundred or even five hundred meters. That's a long shot; I would even chance it with a scope on my other rifles, but this gun, my gun, is different. I simply love this firearm, the first that I bought and paid for by myself for my own reasons. And the fact that the thing is seventy-two years old this year is even better; I know plenty of guys who have brand new rifles that aren't half as accurate--or deadly. I've got a big caliber. It's a 7.62 x 54r, which if you know anything about ammunition, is bigger than a .308 Winchester--the round used by snipers the world over, often considered overkill for game like deer and more suitable for elk or moose or even bear. And I'm going to use it to take a tom turkey. Awesome!

Also, since I've got the gun all sighted in now, I'll be able to take it out with my good friend Sabastain and do some just-for-fun shooting. You know, plinking cans and picking off small items of no import at medium and long range. Today I used empty air cans and cardboard, and later old tractor oil filters. Lots of fun to be had there, I can tell you, esp. since you know when you hit the damn things because they jump in the air and make a loud ping sound as your round passes through unhampered.

Anyway, that's all I've got for this year's Zombie Day. Remember: keep your gun sighted in, your leathers close at hand, and the gas tank full as we approach the impending Day of the Dead. Because if I see a dead man rising from the ground, I'll be the first to shoot him in the head, and double tap for safety.

More at another time.

april will make fools of us all

And how.

Now, back to yesterday.

It turns out that my theory of why the computer I was working on was not able to connect to the Internet--that is, I assumed correctly that someone accidentally or otherwise linked Windows Family Filter to their own Windows Live ID so that only when that person was signed in could the 'net be accessed. So I went into Safe Mode, disabled the application from startup, then booted into regular mode and uninstalled the damned application. If the family has a problem with keeping their kids off porn sites, then I'll introduce something a little more user-friendly.

The reason I was a little irked after my phone call was basically because I exhausted my material for the post I was making, and thus lost the stream I wanted to continue with. Also, I was rolling the ideas about what I could possibly do to counteract that Internet filter, so when I got off the phone, my mind was ready to solve the problem--so I didn't have much choice. I have to do what I am ready to do.

And this brings me to why I wish my brain worked more like a computer. There is something I don't like, I can delete it. Format the drive when it isn't working properly. Reinstall the OS if it seems buggy. Defrag to find information faster. Keep notes in a word processor. Get a fucking spell checker. These things would be much more useful than what I've got right now. It's like I have a multi-core processor and I'm always running it at full speed trying to execute multiple programs. And that means that when something is finally done, when I've finished letting my brain do whatever it needs to do, then I must go with that particular process or risk losing the final product. I've already forgotten where exactly I wanted to take this particular diatribe.

As for finding an appropriate blog description, I have to say that it is a tricky thing, indeed. It has to be a balance between actual description and gripping enough to pull in a reader at a glance. I think that using 'struggling' at the beginning of my own is--well, I'm ambivalent. But I really do feel that this whole thing has been an exercise in finding an identity. Which is because America doesn't have proper role models.

And since I've come back from where I started--in my mind, that is--I'll have to wrap this up. It's only 1200h but I've been up for far too long driving a car around the state. And if you knew how boring the landscape was, you would be dead tired, as well.

I'll get back to you at another time.