What is the deal with closed groups? Why do people close them? Are these people so afraid that someone will come in with differeing opinions that they don't even want to hear them, or are they afraid of terrorists?

I really don't understand this. My opinion is that groups are made by the people, and as many different opinions, the better. It creates diversity of thought, and opens your mind to new avenues.

If you know anything about me, you will know that I am not a big fan of closed groups. I think it is about time for NAWO to come back into the spotlight and we will fight this to the bitter end.


The CUria will burn once again.

I have started listening to alot of rap lately. I don't know why I have but it is really a new phenomenon for me. I used to think that all these rappers were actually doing the things in real life that they talk about on their albums. That was until that one time.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe it was because it just happened yesterday. I sat down in my favorite recliner. You know the one. Oh. Its the red one in the corner, the one you said I need to take to the dump or set it out on the front lawn with a free sign on it. You remember that? ANd I said, "No way, I'm not getting rid of that thing because I like it. And plus, I don't really have a truck to get it to the dump." And you said, "Neither do I," and we both sighed heavy sighs? You remember that chair now?

I sat down in that chair and I realized that I forgot to put the dvd in so I got back up and put the dvd in. It was a documentary film about the life of rapper Tupac Sakur. My dreams and notions were dashed onto the very floor that Tupac died when I saw a picture of him in ballarina leotards. Nothing makes a man look less gangster than wearing leotards, unless he also wears a clown suit. Actually, I think the worse would be if a rapper would wear something like a polo and nice shorts like the kind you would wear to a country club, and then if they waved at people while walking through a suburban neighborhood. Yeah, that would make them look less gangster. Just a little bit though. ABout the distance between my index finger and thumb when I hold them really close together, for dramatic effect.

I went on feeling like my whole life was a lie and that rap didn't speak the truth to me. I felt cheated, perhaps, maybe a little bit disappointed or passed over. I mean, who do these rappers think they are? DO they think they can just play with anyone's emotions like some sort of toy? I mean, what is the point of going on anymore if nothing in rap is true anymore?

I grabbed the noose, razorblades, sleeping pills, and revolver and was just about to get ready to plan my suicide when I heard the phone ring.

"Ring ring" my phone rang because that is the sound my phone makes when it rings.

I picked it up and it was my dad. The conversation went like this.

Me: Hello?

Dad: Hello? Who is this?

Me: Its me dad. Jeremy. You called me.

Dad: Who is this?

Me: Your son.

Dad: Gary? How is it going down there in Hollywood? Are you making any big movies yet?

Me: No, dad. Its me Jeremy. Your other son.

Dad: Just a minute. Someone is on my other line.

(nothing happens)

Dad: Hello?

Me: Hey its still me.

Dad: Jeremy? Jesus, your brother Gary is on the other line acting strange.

Me: Oh, ok. Well its probably because he found out his wife is cheating on him.

Dad: Oh my God. I better call im back. Bye Jeremy.

Me: Bye Dad.

I got a call from Gary awhile later asking me why dad is acting strange.

So everything felt better and I decided to go buy a milkshake and I was able to cope with everything.

I stayed at a hotel recently, but I can't say what it was because of legal reasons. I can tell you that it inolves two trees. It was a short meeting coming up with that name.

"What should we call out hotel?"

"I like a tree in the name."

"Sure, but should we just call it one tree?"

"No, how about Double Tree?"

"I like it"

Damn, I was waiting for Quadruple Tree. We were almost there.

I had a sign on my room that said "Do not Disturb". That is confusing. Someone could read it as 'Do' and say, "ahh, they are telling me to come on in...oh wait...it says Do not. Damn I need to read faster."

Lets embrace the contraction, people.

As many Americans know by now, Donald Trump is endorsing Domino's Pizza in his scandleous exploit of American media.

First he did it with The Apprentice (you may notice that I don't italicize the title...that is because I do no consider it a valid source of entertainment). Now he is attacking the simple-minded American consumer. This is a low blow, in my opinion. But, to each his own.

Anyway, last night on Saturday Night Live, (remarkable considering Trump has a corner on NBC), the players did a sketch about Trump doing a commercial for Domino's Pizza. The sketch was mediochre at best, but the hillarity that came out of it is priceless.

One of the lines that Trump had to say was "I sure am hungry for the cheesy crust!" but he kept screwing up and putting his own touches on it. Now all Clayton is saying is "Cheezus Crust I am hungry!" Then he looks to me and says, "That's not a bad word, is it Daddy?" Well, technically is isn't a bad word. He never even uses Jesus' name in a negative way. He will use Jesus as if he is an evil superhero. For instance, at times he has said, "I am Jesus and I came here to Rock!".

Honestly, Jesus did not come to rock. Who knows what he did come for, but he didn't rock, and he didn't roll.

But I guess that if he thinks that Jesus was a rock star or an Evil Lord is fine. At least he idolizes an acceptable idol.

Quite honestly, I wish he said "Dad Dammit" but I am not that lucky.

For background knowledge, the following information may be important.

Vortigern Aedui: Personal information.

Married, three sons. Names are Taylor, 11. Steven, 7. Clayton, 5.

Occupation: Currently unemployed, but in the process of gaining teaching certificate for Washington State.

Notes: In an interesting, but expected turn of events, today Steven was contemplating his hairstyle in the mirror. Now, he usually combs his own hair, but today he wanted to comb his own hair. So I asked him what style he wanted. He said, "Caesar!".

So I gave him a Caesar, and once I completed this action, he commenced to walk around yelling, "Hail, Caesar!" Then he started pointing at people yelling "Seize her!".

Needless to say, I was flabberghasted by this flamboyant array of dissaray. "Steven," I said, grabbing him by his bangs, "Do you know who Caesar was?" (Now of course I knew that he knew who Caesar was...I taught him everything he knows about the Roman Republic). Steven looked at me with a stunned looked and said, "Of course I do, Dad. He was the first emperor of Rome. But they pronounced his name, 'Kaisar'." And then Steven began running around the house yelling, "Hail, Kaisar!"

Me and my big mouth.