Park51

Park51 (also known as the "Ground Zero Mosque" even though it's not at Ground Zero and is more of a YMCA than a mosque) has been stirring up some controversy lately.

So, naturally, here's my opinion:

It's a municipal zoning issue. That's all it is. Seriously. It's not an attack on America. It's not an affront to the victims of 9/11. It's not a training ground for terrorists. It's a municipal zoning issue.

Does the developer have a right to put it there? Absolutely. Should the developer put it there? At first, I was with a lot of people and said, "maybe it's not wise," but after seeing the other establishments that exist a similar distance from the WTC site and learning that there is a mosque nearby that predates the WTC, I say go for it.

The September 11th terrorist attacks were tragic and cowardly event carried out by extremists -- extremists whose actions were condemned by the vast majority of Muslims around the world. If we are going to judge entire religions by the worst offenses committed by its most extreme sects, then by that logic, no churches, synagogues, mosques, or temples should ever be built, anywhere. No religion has perfectly clean hands, as countless atrocities have been committed in the name of religion over the course of history. The Romans fed Christians to hungry lions as part of a public spectacle. The Christians embarked on the Crusades. The Catholic Church, specifically, had a little thing called the Inquisition. Then there was the Cave of the Patriarchs Massacre where a Jewish gunman opened fire on unarmed Muslims who were praying, resulting in 29 deaths and over 150 injuries. Even the Mormons got involved with the Mountain Meadow Massacre.

Some of these atrocities are worse than others, but my point is that a lot of bad shit has happened in the name of God/Yahweh/Allah/whatever.

By the way, Muslims died in the 9/11 attacks. And I'm not talking about the hijackers. I'm talking about regular people, like you and me, including a police cadet and EMT whose body was found, with his EMT bag -- he was trying to do what he could to save others.

A lot of talking heads -- particularly of the right-wing variety -- have worked tirelessly to unfairly lump the extremist cowards who were behind 9/11 into the same category as the rest of Islam. They make it seem like Osama bin Laden is a spokesperson for the entire Muslim people.

I have a handful of Muslim friends. They are American citizens. They are honest, decent, hard-working people who love America. They're not all that different from you and me. They, much like the people who want to open Park51, are representative of Islam in America. Not every Muslim is an extremist. In fact, very, very few are, and most of those are in the Middle East.

When the Pilgrims landed on our shores in 1621, they were here to escape religious persecution, and as a result, we now live in a country where the freedom to worship however you see fit -- or not worship at all -- is a fundamental right.

And if the opponents of the Park51 project get their way, and the community center (which happens to include space for prayer, but no minarets or anything like that) has to go elsewhere, who is really the winner in that situation?

After all, the people who attacked us on 9/11 were against religious freedom. So what does that say about the desire of so many Americans to deny Muslims the right to gather and worship where they wish in this country?

I'd say that makes us just as bad as the terrorists.

The penguins in my head

This morning I woke up feeling not so great. See, I had gone out to dinner on Sunday and ordered a salad, because this restaurant's house dressing was supposed to be phenomenal.

And it was. The salad was great. And by great, I mean both delicious and huge. I took half of it home with me.

Unfortunately, I let it sit in my truck -- creamy house dressing and all -- for nearly three hours before bringing it inside. That was not a mistake. The mistake was putting it in my refrigerator instead of the trash can.

Last night, without giving much thought to the potential blowback, I ate the rest of that salad, heated-and-then-cooled house dressing and all.

When I woke up, my stomach was quite angry. I'll spare you the details, but what eventually occurred was me sending an e-mail to my co-workers saying I'd be staying home this morning and going back to bed after taking some pepto.

After drifting off to sleep, I began dreaming of a trip to the zoo. But this was no ordinary trip to the zoo. This one ended with a pregnant penguin stowing away in my truck to come live with me.

Now, I realize that in real-life, penguins lay eggs. However, this is my dream, and in my dream, penguins reproduce very quickly and without any sort of birthing or hatching process whatsoever. They were doubling in numbers, over and over, until my house was filled with penguins.

They were everywhere, gentle readers. Everywhere.



I'd open my sock drawer. Penguins. Look in the microwave. Penguins. Under the sink. Penguins. In the dryer. Penguins. In the fridge. Of course there are penguins there. They love the cold. My air conditioner was running at full capacity. The water bill was sky high. I couldn't sit on the couch anymore. There were too many penguins on it. At one point, I tried putting them all in the basement, but they just crawled up through the ducts.

And they'd peck at me with their sharp little beaks because I was in their way, ignorant of the fact that this was MY house. Not theirs. You can't reason with a penguin.

I tried calling every zoo in the country -- nobody wanted the penguins. They had plenty already. Sea World didn't want them either. I thought about shipping them to Antarctica...

And then I woke up.

The moral of the story: never welcome a penguin into your home. They are nothing but trouble.

An Occasion.

This blog turns seven next month.

And, let's face it, out of those seven years, there have really only been about two worth reading.

I think this calls for cake.

Wow...

I can't believe it's been five years. Time sure does slip away, doesn't it?

The sadness is long gone. The tears have dried up. Grass has grown over dad's grave. Time kept on progressing without him, just as it will after each of us is gone. I still think about him, though. Every day. I guess that's to be expected.

In the last five years, I've come to realize how fortunate I was to know that dad's time with us was very short. I was able to make the most of it. I was lucky, unlike many people I know who have lost loved ones since that hot Friday in June of 2005.

I've grown so much in so many ways since dad died. A lot in my life has changed -- my job, where I live, my general outlook on life -- but I'm also thankful for the things that have remained the same. In particular, I recognize that I'm at a time in my life where friendships tend to fade away. I've definitely lost touch with a lot of people, but I'm really thankful for those people who helped me through that tough time who are still in my life today. You know who you are. And most of you don't even know this blog exists, honestly.

Still, though -- thanks.

A couple of things...

1. I stopped at the grocery store on my way to work today. I do this about once a week, to buy stuff to make for lunch. I have a fridge in my office, and it saves me money and time.

Anyway, it was before 8 AM, so there was only one register open. The lady in front of me was shopping, baby in tow, and one of her purchases was a loaf of bread that proclaimed "NO HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP!" on the package. She then proceeded to tell the cashier about how terrible high fructose corn syrup is for you, and how it will kill you, and how she never buys anything containing it.

Also in this lady's purchase were two boxes of Lance brand cracker packs (one cheddar cheese and peanut butter, the other peanut butter and jelly), a dozen donuts from the bakery (most of them topped with icing and M&Ms), two gallons of Hawaiian Punch, and nine -- yes, nine -- Moon Pies.

The only marginally healthy thing in her cart was a bunch of five or six bananas. I guess those bananas canceled out all the HFCS in her other purchases.

2. Many NFL players are total morons, but Vince Young takes the cake.

I have a general theory about why NFL players are so stupid. For starters, it doesn't take a lot of intellect to play football. You basically just run whatever play the coach tells you to run. Secondly, most of the NFL players who went to college were able to coast through -- especially if they attended a Division I school. Third is the schedule. NFL players work for like six or seven months, tops. I mean, sure, they need to keep in shape, but that's an awful lot of free time. You don't hear about professional baseball players getting into trouble nearly as much as NFL players. Why? Because professional baseball players are playing for eight or nine months, and during those eight or nine months, their longest period of time off is four days during the break around the All-Star Game.

And then there's the money. NFL players find themselves in a position where they have more money than they ever fathomed. That much money, combined with that much free time, is an excellent facilitator of bad decisions.

What's really sad is that the average NFL career lasts three and a half seasons. It's no wonder there are so many destitute retired football players out there. I'm no financial planner, but jeez, even I would make some sort of long-range plan.

Why you shouldn't boycott BP stations

You're driving down the road and are about to run out of gas. You have to fill the tank, and quick. You find two stations, right across the street from each other. One has a BP sign, the other is a Motomart, Quiktrip, or some other big regional chain.

The BP sign brings to mind oil-soaked pelicans, mucky beaches littered with tar balls, and the image of oil gushing from the floor of the Gulf of Mexico. As an act of protest, you choose to patronize the non-BP station.

Where do you think that gas you just bought at the non-BP station came from? Quiktrip and Motomart don't explore for oil and refine their own gasoline. They buy it on the wholesale market from whoever has the lowest price.

They call this "unbranded gasoline." You'll notice that QT and Motomart don't have any particular oil company's logos displayed at any of their stores. That's what makes them unbranded -- the fact that they don't sell just one brand of gasoline.

Of course, because of shared pipelines, that gasoline you're buying from the Shell station may not necessarily have been produced by Shell. And the BP station may not be selling BP gas, either. It's really hard to tell what you're actually getting, as all gas is pretty much the same (before additives, anyway.)

So if you're interested in boycotting BP, you should just boycott all gas stations, period, since you can't be entirely certain that what you're buying at QT and Motomart isn't BP gas. Heck, you might even have a better shot at getting non-BP gas at a BP station.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of oil companies whatsoever, but I do recognize that, at present, oil is a necessary evil. I'd boycott all gas stations if I could, but my life runs on 87 octane gasoline, and yours probably does, too.

There's another reason why you shouldn't boycott BP stations: they are independently owned. It's very likely that they are owned by people in your community. They have nothing to do with BP, the company. They were just unfortunate enough to sign a branding agreement that involves the use of BP logos. As I said earlier, they may not even be selling BP gasoline. But the big chains almost certainly are. They just don't have to tell you where it came from. That's because they probably don't even know where it came from.

Quiktrip, Motomart, and the other big chains are just that -- big chains. They're not franchises. They're all company-owned and managed, unlike the mom and pop BP station across the street.

So, if you still insist on boycotting BP stations, just know that by doing so, you won't be hurting the guys who ruined the Gulf of Mexico nearly as much as you might be hurting your own neighbors.

Just to put this out there...

Gary Coleman died today.

Gary, you died of an intercranial hemorrhage -- a type of cerebrovascular accident or CVA. Most of these (about 80-90% according to a friend of mine who works with CVA patients) are ischemic in nature. In other words, most of the time, the blood supply to the brain is cut off. But Gary, you chose the path less traveled. Your blood wouldn't clot.

You truly died of a diff'rent stroke.

Rest in peace, Gary. You had a hard life. At the very least, I hope you appreciate the irony of your demise.