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AUSTRALIA GETS DRUNK, WAKES UP IN NORTH ATLANTIC
Tired of Being Isolated and Ignored, Continent Isn't Bloody Moving

Sydney, 800 miles S. of Nova Scotia (SatireWire.com) — After what witnesses described as an all night blinder during which it kept droning on about how it was always being bloody ignored by the whole bloody world and would bloody well stand to do something about it, Australia this morning woke up to find itself in the middle of the North Atlantic.
current location of australia

"Good Lord, that was a booze up," said a bleary-eyed Australian Prime Minister, John Howard, speaking from his residence at Kirribilli House, approximately 600 nautical miles east of Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.

According to Australians and residents of several countries destroyed or lewdly insulted during the continent's nearly 7,000-mile saltwater stagger, the binge began just after noon yesterday at a pub in Brisbane, where several patrons were discussing Australia Day and the nation's general lack of respect from abroad.

"It started off same as always; coupla fossils saying how our Banjo Patterson was a better poet than Walt Whitman, how Con the Fruiterer is funnier than Seinfeld, only they're Aussies so no one knows about 'em," recalled witness Kevin Porter. "Then this bloke Martin pipes up and says Australia's main problem is that it's stuck in Australia, and everybody says 'Too right!'"

"Well, it made sense at the time," Porter added.

By 2 a.m., powered by national pride and alcohol, the 3-million-square-mile land mass was barging eastward through the Coral Sea and crossing into the central Pacific, leaving a trail of beer cans and Chinese take-away in its wake.

When dawn broke over the Northern Hemisphere, the continent suddenly found itself, not only upside down, but smack in the middle of the Atlantic, and according to most of its 19 million inhabitants, that's the way it's going to stay.

"We sent troops to Afghanistan. You never hear about it. We have huge government scandals. You never hear about it. It's all 'America did this,' and 'Europe says that,'" exclaimed Perth resident Paul Watson. "Well, we're right in the thick of things now, so let's just see if you can you ignore us."
former location of australia

Officials on both sides of the Atlantic conceded that would be difficult. "They broke Florida," said U.S. State Department spokesman Richard Boucher. "And most of Latin America is missing."

Meanwhile, victims of what's already been dubbed the "Australian Crawl" are still shaking off the event.

"Australia bumped into us at about midnight local time," said Hawaii governor Ben Cayetano. "They were very friendly — they always seem friendly — but they refused to go around unless we answered their questions. But the questions were impossible. 'Who is Ian Thorpe? Do you have any Tim Tams? What day is Australia Day?'"

"Fortunately, somebody here had an Unimportant World Dates calendar and we aced the last one," Cayetano added.

Panama, however, was not so lucky.

"Australia came through here screaming curses at us to let them through," said Ernesto Carnal, who guards the locks at the entrance to the Panama Canal. "We said they would not fit, so they demanded to speak with a manager. When I go to find Mr. Caballos, they sneak the whole continent through."

When Caballos shouted to the fleeing country that it had not paid, Australia "accidentally" backed up and took out every nation in the region, as well as the northern third of Venezuela. They then made up a cheery song about it.

By late morning today, however, not everyone in Australia was quite so blithe. "We've still got part of Jamaica stuck to Queensland," said Australian army commander Lt. Gen. Peter Cosgrove. "I think we might have declared war on it. I don't bloody remember. Maybe it's time to go home."
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Cosgrove, however, is not in the majority, and at press time, U.S., African, and European leaders were still desperately trying to negotiate for Australia's withdrawal. But the independent-minded Aussies were not making it easy. In a two-hour meeting at midday, Australian representatives listed their demands: immediate inclusion in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, a permanent CNN presence in all 6 Australian states, a worldwide ban on hiring Paul Hogan, a primetime U.S. television contract for Australian Rules Football, and a 4,500-mile-long bridge between Sydney and Los Angeles.

U.S. negotiators immediately walked out, calling the Australian Rules Football request "absurd."

Copyright © 2002, SatireWire.

Oh the pain, the pain...

Right now I'm in a fiscal fetal position with my thumb in my mouth, crying, and really wanting to be hugged.

I took my car into the shop today for brake work and $1500 later, I might actually be getting new brakes. It seems that there's a small $20 part that broke and is leaking fluid in my brakes. The part is not a problem to replace, but the labor to replace the part is a big problem. Apparently, they have to remove the rear axle in order to replace the part and do all sorts of mucking around with the fluids and differential. I'm about as much of a car guy as I am a construction accountant. But I do know this much, my car is sick and fixing it costs money - lots and lots of money.

When I first took my car into the shop this morning I had this crazy thought that suddenly doesn't seem all that crazy - why do they only have financial aid for students? Shouldn't they have financial aid for car owners as well? Of course, I probably wouldn't qualify for any of those scholarships either, but that doesn't make the idea any less appealing.

I owe, I owe, its off to work I go... :(

Keeping up with the Beaches...

Celeste, Andre and I headed out to the ballpark last night for a little family time. Since I've started working for Lucasfilm, there hasn't been a lot of time for my wife and son - so I was happy to discover that George had given me his three right field bleacher seats for last night's game.

We arrived at the valet parking with about an hour to go until game time and me determined to make this a special night for all involved. I paid the guy a fiver to park our cherry red 1963 roadster in the parking lot and told him to keep an eye on it, then I escorted Celeste and Andre towards the Lefty O'Doul gate. But before we went in, we stopped at the Giants Dugout Store to buy some S.F. Giants 2007 NL West Champs hats and pins. Dutifully accoutred, we entered the park and took the steps to the top of the stadium.

The bunting was still in place from the Bonds 800th Homerun celebration the night before, but it looked a little sad - like it had perhaps seen its last hurrah. I told the bunting to cheer up since I knew that Bonds was likely to be signed for another couple of years so that he could make an attempt on Oh's all time homerun record.

We sat in our seats and watched the pre-game festivities and ordered hot dogs and beer from passing vendors. I was glad that they rolled back the prices. Andre wanted two hot dogs but I reminded him that he had a big soccer game tomorrow, so he wheedled me into buying him a Chocolate Malt instead. I swear my son is getting as persuasive as me some days.

The game started and Cain was dealing - six strikeouts in the first seven batters on only 24 pitches. But defense is boring for a seven year old, so we were both happy when Bonds hit #801 right over our heads in the 3rd. Andre looked at me as the ball hit the water as if to say, "Well, aren't you going after it?" I just patted his back and high fived him. Celeste and I shared a congratulatory kiss that made me wish Bonds would hit a couple of more jacks - onion breath and all.

But the real teaching moment came in the fifth inning when Bonds was up again and popped up a ball that dropped in front of everyone on the infield. But the ump had ruled for the infield fly rule and Andre cried out that it wasn't fair - that they should have to catch the ball. He turned to me and asked, "Why do you think God allows the infield fly rule?"

I looked at Andre and sensing one of those great Christian teaching moments that we all seem to enjoy with our sons, I replied, "Because even God doesn't understand the infield fly rule, son." It was a great father-son moment.

The Giants won the game 8-1 over the Dodgers (who just aren't the same since Jeff Kent became their manager) and we all went home happy. Tomorrow, I start work on the edit of the new Star Wars TV series, so I'd better get some sleep.

Oh, sorry I didn't have any photos. Andre accidentally threw my camera out into McCovey cove when Bonds hit the homerun and these two teens caught the camera, but their boat sank before they could return it to me.

Just remember what God said about the sincerest form of flattery...

I love this Scary world!

Not everything about over consumerization is bad. For one thing, it makes a fertile ground for the imagination of one of my all time favorite authors, Richard Scary. For those of you with children, Richard Scary is probably a current favorite, but for those of you without children, you may have to think back to your childhood to remember his books. He created a whole series of books that showed a series of small animal figures in various scenes from real life helping to illustrate the hundreds of thousands of things we use every day that a young child might not know by name. For instance, an incredibly detailed picture of an airport that would take up two whole pages and would show, and label, everything from the control tower to the baggage handlers. Somewhere in the picture, you could always find the inch worm and the little fox and some pigs. It was a great way to learn the words for things (I even have a German version for learning the German words for things like Banhoff).

I was thinking about that today as I stood waiting in front of my work building waiting for an insurance inspector to arrive. I work in an industrial area and there are tons of trucks that pass our office every day. So as I stood there and waited, I watched a dump truck go by, and a plumbing van, and a cable truck, and an SUV, and a small fire truck, and a train rolled down the tracks nearby, and a helicopter buzzed through the air, and an inch worm rolled across the sidewalk nearby on a skateboard - and suddenly I was viewing the world through a Richard Scary lens. All of this variety, all of this wonderful variety, and everyone here with a purpose and a means of transport. I wasn't looking at traffic congestion. I wasn't looking at global warming. I was looking at this idealized and wonderfully diverse world, and it made me smile.

I spent the weekend playing youth group games at church and then hanging out with friends and then spending time on the ground with my nephew playing cars - what a wonderful weekend. God doesn't just want us to view His world through the lens of a child, he wants us to become truly childlike. He wants us to play Sardines. And he wants us to dodge balls. And he wants us to pretend that cars are getting in line for Pirates of the Carribean at Disneyland - because that's what cars really want to do. They don't want to break down and guzzle gas. Cars want to ride rides. Because when cars ride rides, we are not hurting each other, we are not hurting God - we are spending time with one another in community and happiness.

Nobody said life had to be hard... we just make it that way.

Awakenings

Remember that movie a while back with Robert DeNiro as a mental patient that suffers from a debilitating brain disease that causes him to be a virtual vegetable for most of his life until a doctor discovers a "cure" that wakens him up - only to have some complications along the way (I don't want to give away the ending if you haven't seen it yet). Well, I kind of feel like that right now. My synapses are firing sideways again, or diagonal, or whatever... and I'm feeling especially bizarre.

This is what I like to call... NORMAL.

For those of you who haven't known me for a long time, then you might know the NORMAL me. He has been hiding out for a while (I think he feared extradition to the Hague for Pun Warfare crimes against humanity) biding his time for a return to his evil and wicked ways. Small e evil and small w wicked. This is the NORMAL me who wrote a story, with a certain partner in beachware whose name I won't mention, that ended on an exact replica of Captain Crunch's island from the back of a cereal box. In the same story, I posited a former youth leader of mine piloting the space shuttle. This is the Normal Me who wrote about a wrestling match between a couple of pro-wrestlers and a rock musician on top of a stretch-RV while being pursued through the streets of San Francisco by an entire army (well, it sounded unlikely when I wrote it... now I'm not so sure ;) These are the kinds of ideas NORMAL ME has. These are the kind of mental waves I normally give off. And now, look out... I'm in charge of teaching your children about GOD! BWAH HA HA HA HA HA!

Okay, so admitedly, the idea that I just had about using Fish Dogs to teach kids about God's refining process was a little bizarre - even for me. Fish Dogs are hot dog buns filled with three or so long fish sticks, covered with tartar sauce, and cheese (think of a Filetofish Sandwich in a hot dog bun). I was going to ask for volunteers from the "studio" audience and have them try various things on the old Fish Dog to see if I could "refine" them to make them better. Then I was going to read some of the passages about refining in the Bible and make the comparison that we, and all our sins, are like fish sticks in hot dog buns covered with tartar sauce and cheese. Cause, you know, that's just what it says in the Bible... somewhere... And then God refines us and makes us into something Der Wienerschnitzel can't even imagine ever selling - something that even Pink's or Nathan's would drool over - something so spectacular that that Kobiyashi dude could only eat three or four of, tops!

Do you see where this is going? Cause if you do, let me know. I'm lost. My brain took a left turn somewhere around Topeka and I kept going straight. So, uh, I'm going to Refine my Youth Group plans for this weekend, and maybe go make a Fish Dog while I'm at it. Suddenly I have a craving for one.

What does it mean to live a life?

Lately my thoughts have dwelt increasingly amongst the dead. Perhaps I am getting old and facing thoughts of my own mortality for the first time. Perhaps I am reading Revelations and the thoughts of the end game have given rise to thoughts of my part in it. Perhaps its just the fact that death is a part of life and though we like to forget it, there are people dying all around us every single day of the year. I'm not sure which it is, but my thoughts have been jarred loose and have floated that direction.

I'm not sure what I want to say about it. The idea, the thought of being dead, immediately leads one to the next idea - what's next? But that's a non-starter. Despite my faith, I can't answer that question. I believe that AFTER I die, I will see a bright golden tunnel of warmth and light and emerge in a new place with my Grandfather and Grandmother and all those others who have gone before me. But its what will happen before that that has gripped my imagination.

I read a story yesterday about a bunch of scientists who are traveling through the Singapore area looking for geological evidence of an upcoming mammoth quake to rival the one that killed tens of thousands of people a couple of years ago. The interview was taking place on a beach in Phuket - one of the places hard hit by the previous Tsunami. As the geologist is giving the interview, they are watching the sand on the beach shake from an aftershock (foreshock) and the guy is basically acknowledging that at any moment, a giant tsunami wave could be coming on the horizon to blot out his existence. Then he goes on to say how he and his team will be traveling to other islands for the next several weeks and months looking for more information - with full knowledge of the likelihood of his own death.

When I was young and dumb, I joined the Navy and didn't really think through the ramifications of that decision. We like to all think that we'll have some say about our lives and that nobody would needlessly throw our lives away on some dubious cause. I knew people that were killed. I knew people who killed others. I could never imagine that thought that I might be shot or blown up or maimed on any given day merely because of the uniform I wore. Worst was the knowledge that to prevent intelligence from falling into our enemies hands - the marines would be given orders to kill me rather than let me be captured. I decided to simply ignore such thoughts. Facing mortality at such a young age is almost an impossible thing. I was still trying to figure out how to live. I certainly didn't want to figure out how to die.

But now, I am looking forward down the road to my 70's, 80's, 90's... and I am asking myself, what do I want to accomplish before that day that I die? What do I want to look back upon and say, "That was the proudest day of my life"? What sort of legacy do I want to leave?

And, at the same time, I am wondering - will it hurt? How much pain can I bear? What are the limits of my endurance? What would I do if faced with a decision between life in a diminished capacity or a gruesome death?

I've never had to ask these questions before. Death has always been a part of life, but not an experience that I've sought out nor ever tried to understand. We all joke about the sort of death we want, but we're usually thinking along the lines of what would give us and our loved ones the least amount of pain. Nobody ever answers that question with, "I'd like to have a massive heart attack in my home and not be found for three days." But that might be a reality for some of us. And its something to consider - even if its only in the fleeting dark spots of our mind. As Spock once told Saavik, "How we face death is at least as important as how we face life." I think that statement not only shows wisdom, but its also something that we don't truly consider until we've grown a little in our shoes and suddenly realize that the summit of our lives is approaching, and the long downhill is to follow soon after.

Of course, my Dad did tell me when he reached 65 that he was finally content to reach middle age... so maybe I've got a long time to think about this. But, just in case, its always nice to be prepared.

Even Perry Mason Could Figure This One Out...

Was O.J. set up? Duh...

I have in the past been supportive of the idea that O.J. was rightfully acquitted in Los Angeles some years ago. Rightfully because the prosecution never proved that O.J. did it. Face it, folks, they were just beat up by O.J.'s defense team - a legal equivalent of the American Dream Team. That having been said, I can't say that I've ever really believed he was completely innocent either. Whereas I don't think its been proven that he killed his ex-wife, there are too many issues surrounding the original case to say that he didn't have some involvement whether before, during, or after the fact.

One thing I can say, however, with certainty is that O.J. always seemed to me to be not the swiftest thing on two feet. I've felt embarrassed for him and almost insulted by him since his acquittal and his vow to bring the real killers to justice. He has fumbled through many attempts to explain his actions on those nights and how he couldn't possibly be the killer - as if rehashing the subject was going to change people's minds. It always provided for me two scenarios, neither of which was very good for O.J. - First, that he was the killer and that his attempts to prove otherwise were manifestations of his own desire to be redeemed, or second, that he was innocent and too stupid to make an honest attempt to prove it to everyone else.

That brings us to Vegas and the events leading up to it. In a very simple timeline, O.J. writes a book called, "If I Did It," which clearly fits into either of my two pathetic theories. Then his publisher comes to his senses and says, "Um, no, I guess we're not going to print it." Then the Goldman's (who are either utterly convinced that O.J. did it and are doing everything in their power to make his life a living hell, or their just money-grubbing bastards) get the publisher to publish the book after all so that they can split the profits with O.J.'s kids.

And so, TA DUM, on the day O.J.'s book goes on sale, his "friend" tells O.J. that there's a bunch of guys in Las Vegas trying to sell his "stolen memorabilia". He not only knows who the people are, but where their located, and how to contact them. O.J. gets angry (O.J. smash puny humans!) and asks his "friend" to set up a meeting with the guys. Then O.J. gets together a posse and they ride into the hotel room to retrieve the stolen goods. And within hours, O.J. is being accused of armed robbery, and, lo and behold, an audio tape emerges that clearly nails O.J.'s behind to the wall. The audio tape has been recorded by O.J.'s "friend" - the one who set up the entire affair.

Here's the thing though... I think O.J.'s guilty as hell in this case. Unfortunately so, perhaps, but still guilty. Nobody that stupid should be allowed to walk around. You are O.J., one of the most recognized guys on the planet, and you're going to walk into a room and commit a robbery to retrieve your stolen goods - AND YOU DON'T SEE ANY PROBLEM WITH THAT?! Has the thought of calling the cops or lawyers or anything ever occurred to you?

O.J. was set up. No doubt in my mind. I knew it long before the tape emerged. But that doesn't change the fact that he walked into the set up willingly and willingly committed the crime. O.J. will go to jail because no prosecution, jury, or defense is going to let him walk this time. In the world of criminal justice, you only get one get out of jail free card.

We will still never know whether O.J. was guilty or not of killing his ex-wife. But, perhaps, justice will finally be served. Only O.J. knows for sure.

Still Doing Things...

I'm like on a doing kick right now. This weekend I managed to finish the movie that I had intended for Help Will Train and managed to get my webmaster to install the film online for me. You can now see this film that is at once self-pitying, hopeful, and... I don't know... I just really like it. Its a great mix of sillyness and great music. The marriage of image and sound and text is a menage a trois of pathetic proportions. So, if you can turn your sound down low, I recommend you watch it - but don't take it too seriously. It's a bit too artistic to be taken seriously.

I also started filming an idea I have for a short film which I hope to finish next week - right now you only get to know the working title, "An athiest walks into a bank..." I spent the afternoon today working with two young actors who were recording the dialogue of an angel and devil. It feels good to just be out there doing something that's not work related, nor school related, nor church related. Its been a long time since I reconnected with ME and did something just for myself. The film should debut on Youtube some time next week, assuming I can convince the actors to come back for some blue screen work (we never do anything easy around here).

I'm sorry if I messed with anyone's mind over the TAC website front page (see last post). I just had this silly idea for a front page and I wanted it to come across as a surprise. I think its more impressive if you're not expecting it.

Its funny that in all this creative development, I have not lost track that God is there in my life. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that this is all part of that little dance that leads me on to a new path. Somehow, all this bizarre creative energy is His doing. I am just grateful to be having fun for a change.

Okay, now back to work... have a good week everyone!

Da Wig

Website Help Needed

Hi all,

I'm trying to test my new front page of my website - www.theadventurechronicles.com - and I seem to be having some problems on certain platforms. Its like the buttons don't want to work. And there seems to be a lag time in loading. Can some of you check out my front page and tell me what you think? I'm worried that the web inspectors might do something drastic if I don't get it fixed soon.

Thanks.

Doing

It may seem that I've been quiet lately. Its not for a lack of thought. But sometimes thought becomes its own thing and sometimes thought is harnessed into action. Sometimes you reflect and sometimes you do. Right now, I'm doing.

But I can't help read things that others have written and I just can't quite find the words to respond. In A River Runs Through It, the main character remarks that if you listen closely to the river, you can hear God's words underneath the rocks. Well, there are times when I think my words go diving to look for them, because when I look around, my words are nowhere to be found. Its the written equivalent of being struck dumb.

And so, when I reach that situation where my words seem to be on vacation even as I'm stuck here left to fend for myself, I do two things - first, I become very quiet. Its easy to look intelligent if you never open your mouth, which is something the President's advisors might want to remind him from time to time. And second, I start doing. Doing up a storm. All the things I didn't do when I was too busy reflecting on the things I ought to be doing.

To be fair, scheduling seems to be a large part of it. I'm hardly around enough to reflect anymore. I've got class two nights a week, youth group one night a week, and church choirs on one night as well. Throw in all those pesky other meetings and planned outings and such and I've pretty much got things planned 8 or 9 nights a week. If I stopped doing, I'd have to reflect on how much I wasn't getting things done, and that's no fun. Far better to just do, and reflect later.

But not having the words means that when someone asks me, "What have you been doing lately?" my mind immediately clogs with images of all the stuff I've been doing. And because I can't unscramble all those thoughts with a tool as valuable as the English language, I just get this pained Neanderthal look on my face and reply with a very vague, "Things." Which isn't a lie. But its not very descriptive either.

You know, maybe I should add to my list of things to do - FIND WORDS. They must be around here somewhere. Of course, I do have a hole in one of my pockets, so perhaps they fell out and got lost. I should mend that hole while I'm doing things.

Anyway, I'm off to do some more. I'll check in as soon as I have something to reflect. In the meantime, expect some more announcements soon as all this doing seems to be paying off on getting things done.

Watchdog Group Says "High School Musical" Turning Kids Gay

Watchdog Group Says "High School Musical" Turning Kids Gay

COLORADO SPRINGS (CAP) - A conservative watchdog group has come down on the Disney Channel sensation High School Musical, saying that the TV movies are "minting the next generation of America's homosexuals" by introducing them to musical comedy at a young age.

"Parents may think it's very innocent," said James Dobson of Focus on the Family. "But just watch: one minute they're watching High School Musical, the next they're in the front row at Mamma Mia, their hand resting suggestively on a kneecap that's the same sex as theirs."

Though the main characters of Troy and Gabriella, played by teen idols Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens, are ostensibly boyfriend and girlfriend in the films, Dobson insists that their relationship is just a cover.

"You'll notice they don't even kiss until almost the end of the second movie," he said. "And even then, their mouths are closed - no tongues."

Dobson compared musical comedy to a "gateway drug," saying it's often the first step on the path to same-sex debauchery. "The studies are clear," he said, citing in particular a 2004 report by the Kenneth Mehlman Center for Public Affairs showing a clear progression from musical comedy to interior design, and from there to meticulously coiffed hair and a love of colored knit vests (perhaps olive green or burnt orange).

"Within a very short amount of time, even your casual musical comedy viewer is likely to become a flamboyant, family-values-eschewing homosexual," the report read.

Meanwhile, Disney CEO Robert A. "Bob" Iger released a statement yesterday disputing the claims. "There are absolutely, positively no homosexual undertones in either of our High School Musical movies, nor in any of the CDs, DVDs, posters, clothing or thousands of other related items available at Disney.com," said Iger.

"Unless you think maybe that there might be a market for it," he added.

Dobson, however, said that not only do the movies have a homosexual agenda, but that it's patently obvious. "Just look at that Zac Efron, with his skinny round tush and his tight pants, and those deep, sea blue eyes and the way he pouts with those full, red lips," he said.

Dobson then cut the interview short, noting he had to go use the bathroom at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul Airport.

(Now, that's some good satire!)

The Secret of My Celeste

File this one under typical writer insanity...

A year ago, I was supposed to be in Florida meeting my dream woman - Celeste - the golf instructor. For those of you who remember, Celeste was a creation of mine from a series of blogs where I tried to imagine those ten days that I would spend in Florida last year. According to my imagination, I met Celeste at a golf lesson and we ended up going out for a few nights while I was in Florida. Of course, she wasn't real - in the sense that she didn't really exist, couldn't be actually touched, and certainly didn't have real lips to kiss me. But the imagination is a powerful thing according to Mickey Mouse and his trip Fantasmic.

For a writer to imagine a new character is nothing new. We do it so often and so routinely that it just becomes something rather boring - ordinary - commonplace. We are not really breathing life into a character, we are merely forming the outline, the structure, the accepted parameters of a pretend individual (like a forger might provide the documents for an alias). It is YOUR imagination that breathes life into a character. Without someone reading about the character, there can be no life given to this character. Its your imagination that gives a character its voice, its shape, its look, its spark of vitality. So the secret to the success of a writer's characters is mostly based on the writer's ability to stimulate that part of your brain that makes you breathe life into the writer's creation. Its a symbiotic relationship, and writers are often surprised what direction their characters take once life has been breathed into them by readers.

But Celeste is different. Celeste follows in a long line of different characters for me. To me, Celeste was alive. Is alive. Will be alive again. She is a tapping into a subconscious for me. She is a character that I found breathing and described to you and not the other way around.

Its a subtle psychological difference and its something that I've only noticed when I try to imagine female characters in love stories. To me, Celeste is closer akin to a fantasy than a character. She is what I'd Like To Have Happen To Me, and not some randomly generated plot driving floozy. The difference is quite stunning in terms of writing. Characters I control. They do what I tell them to do. They say their lines. And they die on cue. Girls like Celeste tell me what they're doing, even when it complicates the story line. They make me realize that I am lucky to have them. And that if it weren't for some trick of writing fate, I'd probably never even know them.

Let's be realistic - most great literary women are Celeste's. There's no way that Romeo meets Juliet and they immediately fall in love. There's no way that Juliet defies her parents and secretly marries Romeo. There's no way that Juliet agrees to fake her death because she loves Romeo so much that she's willing to do anything to be with him. And there's no way that Juliet kills herself when fate intervenes. These things don't happen to real people. These things don't happen to normal characters. They only happen to women of Celeste's ilk - creations of pure love - who show us not what the world actually presents, but what we'd LIKE TO HAVE HAPPEN TO US. Secretly, we'd all like to have a love that strong that we'd be willing to die for each other. Celeste, Juliet, Henriette, all of these women speak to our inner souls, our innermost desires, our Christian selfs. They remind us of the divine part of our nature. They remind us of what is true and noble and wonderful about life and love.

The secret of my Celeste is that she is that part of me that longs for the ultimate love of God. And she will not allow me to take any cheap substitutes.

Emptying The Clutter Part One - Chinese Products

Being a product manager for an import/export company that does business with several Asian manufacturers, you might expect that I have a very strong opinion about the availability of cheap manufactured goods from China. I do. They suck. Not only do they suck, but they are the single greatest threat to the United States of America, both in terms of its security and its hegemony in the rest of the world. Now, if we don't really care where we stand in the scheme of things, if we have no problem with going the way of Britain, Spain, and Rome and becoming a second rate world power, then we can simply ignore this blog. But if we've grown accustomed to being a leader in the world, then we simply can't ignore the danger such cheap products create.

So, why do we buy cheap products from China? Well, really, its a matter of supply and demand - more importantly, the Demand part. Let's start with WalMart.

While WalMart was by no means the first company to import products from China, they are certainly the best at it. Supplying the world's largest chain of stores requires extra ordinary effort on the behalf of WalMart. Most American companies can't keep up with the demand of the voracious Walmart shoppers - certainly not without wanting to realize a tidy profit as a result. In China, where profits can be measured in cents, not dollars, a product sold that realizes a few cents profit can be a huge boon to its manufacturers. So in China Walmart has a steady supply of products to fill its stores. It buys these products at incredibly cheap prices and passes on those savings to its shoppers. We buy things from Walmart because they are cheap. As a result, Walmart claims more and more of our business and gets larger and larger and needs more and more product and more and more of our money goes overseas to China. Demand fuels supply everytime.

This, of course, is not lost on those chains that are not called Walmart, nor on the manufacturers that supply those stores. In order to remain competitive with Walmart pricing, these manufacturers also have to start importing products from China. It doesn't matter that these products might be inferior to the products they already have. What matters is the price. As long as they are cheap, everyone can remain competitive. The second Walmart lowers their price to something less than we can offer, we lose that products sales to Walmart. Walmart keeps getting richer, and everyone else keeps getting poorer.

Soon you end up with a situation where 80% of all toys are produced in China, where 75% of all our food is produced in China, and where well over half of all our consumer goods are produced in China. Our manufacturers are laying off employees, suffering through hard times, and feeing the problem just to stay in business. Our money increasingly goes overseas. Our jobs increasingly go overseas.

In short, the purchasing of so many cheap products has turned the entire nation into a bunch of cheap whores - selling out to the lowest bidder every time.

So, one part of me is saddened that all this scrutiny is now being foist upon the Chinese market. I need those sales to keep my job and if there is too much of a backlash, business will surely suffer. Walmart will coast through such a downturn, but the rest of the companies who were forced to turn to China to save their necks, will be crushed under the weight of consumer indifference. On the other hand, any blow to the Chinese economy is good for the U.S.A. If you look at how quickly China has grown in the last ten years, it is primarily because we have been feeding it. China now has the world's fastest growing economy. Tie that to a nation of over 1 Billion consumers and look out. Demand for oil has caused the price to skyrocket. Imagine what demand for other products is going to do to the prices of other things. Five years ago, my very prescient friend told me that the one thing that scared him the most is the potential of China going capitalistic and democratic. If that happens, you can kiss our number one status in the world goodbye.

We made this happen. We demanded cheaper and cheaper products. We took the short term gain over the long term security. Its us that is to blame - not Mattel, not Walmart, and not the Bush/Clinton/Bush/Reagan governments. We drive the economy. If we want to get quality products back on the shelves and correct the imbalance in our economies, then we have to start putting our money where our mouths are - here in America.

There. Got that off my chest. Its now out of my mind. Some of the clutter is gone.