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Forewords: A Treatise Thereagainst (A Foreword To An Unwritten Book)

2010-07-12T20:20:00.004-05:00

mooch |moō ch |
verb informal
1 [ trans. ] ask for or obtain (something) without paying for it : a bunch of your friends will show up, mooching food | [ intrans. ] I'm mooching off you all the time.

The foreword to the second book ever written was the first book ever written.* Since then, authors have been lazy.

Yeah I’ve written a book. What? It lacks something? A shorter book in the beginning? Good idea. Yeah, people probably want to hear from someone other than the author of the book they’ve just bought. I’ll just get another author to write it. They love writing; that’s why they became a writer, I bet. But what if they suck? Then people have bad associations with me and they haven’t read a word I’ve written. I know- I’ll get an author who’s better than me. Brilliant.

To be asked to write a foreword is to be told you’re a better writer than the person for whose book you’re forewording. Writing a foreword is the literary equivalent of the varsity quarterback giving a quick throwing lesson to the JV QB.

It has been written that real men write their own forewords. At least now it has.

The theory of forewords has been the same since Noah wrote the first ever book, The Ark: A Repair Manual. Forewords plug the book. They big it up, convince you to read it. The book you have in your hand. Yeah, that one. The one you’ve already bought. Makes as much sense as a 1/0 time signature.

It has been written that the realest man invites his enemy to write a foreword. That way no smoke is blown up the reader’s… eyes. They’ll know the full dirt about the author who has written the book they hold. The seminal example is of course David Blaine’s foreword in Neil Armstrong’s Diary, wherein Blaine shows pictures of himself on the lunar surface dated 1965, and refers to Armstrong as “history’s foremost douche.”

Unhappily however, that trend died off with the Paleozoic era, just as Pangaea was hitting puberty. Now foreword writers just say nice things about the book and the writer in which their foreword is published. And as your mom once famously said, “Seriously Gary Larson, well done getting Robin Williams to write your foreword. I was just thinking, ‘I wish I could read what the worst person writes.’”

If you’re writing a book think deeply about who will write your foreword. Someone smarter than you. Someone off of whom you can mooch. Just don’t expect any tips from me.

In short, forewords are bollocks; the work of the feeble. And only an apocalypticalistically small-minded twit would ever write one.

*New and Old Testaments, respectively, duh. Nope, stop right there.

Books, Bears, and Coffee Shops

2010-06-13T15:49:00.007-05:00

He makes me want to recoil with disgust, and go in for a chummy handshake. Sit next to him on a 5 hour flight, and punch him on the center of his face. My relationship to Chuck Klosterman is tricky. He's deeply thoughtful. Also capable of egregious assumptions. Almost without fail, his work is thought provoking. And for that reason I'll probably read everything he writes. And so should you. In an effort to remain timely, I'm deep into Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs (hey I live in Belton, TX. We just got iPods).

- - -

For countless years the handshake, or some slight variation thereof, has been the primary form of greeting between people. I wonder what the next major evolution of person-to-person greeting will be. We've evolved in so many ways but the handshake has remained largely unchanged. What if instead of just a handshake there was some sort of minor gift giving every time? Like the presentation of a gummy bear? Everyone would carry a small pouch of gummy bears and you'd exchange them in lieu of a handshake. You'd eat the other person's gummy bear while they ate yours and then proceed as usual. We could even social class it up. Rich people would carry and give Haribo brand Gummy Bears. Prius drivers would carry fair trade gummy worms.

If this happens in the future, I don't think I'll be that proud for predicting it. I'd probably support the movement to go back to handshakes.

p.s. - There's a kid in the coffee shop where I currently sit, just feet from me. He's playing a guitar. He's undoubtedly a douchebagetry major. The worst part is I'm reminded of a time my freshmen year at ACU when someone* brought his** guitar into the library. And played*** it. And was sort of surprised when the librarian invited him* to get out. Heck, maybe I'll just get my guitar and join this kid. It would work in Glee.

*Me

**My

***Shredded.

Steven Wolfram, TED

2010-05-19T21:58:00.001-05:00

My neighbor, the funeral home.

2010-05-16T20:50:00.006-05:00

Living across the street from a funeral home has its benefits. Neighbors tend to stay quiet in reverence, stray cats steer clear of our block. Maybe cats lose one of their lives if they come too close. But the best is definitely the parking lot. I love the parking lot.

The property adjacent to the funeral home and back a few dozen meters from the street holds the grocery store where I shop. I walk there regularly and the path thereto leads right across the funeral home parking lot. Many times it's barren. But sometimes there's a service inside and the small lot's full of cars. Occasionally I cross the lot when the service inside is finished and there are people outside in the parking lot.

I've seen gatherings for dozens of services. There doesn't seem to be a specific socioeconomic category to which this funeral home caters. All types of people, all types of cars. Some services with Cadillacs, BMWs, etc. Others with rust-buckets littering the parking lot. But all groups share some things. The front doors have a two-fold bottleneck effect- After a service, once people hit the open air, they 1)reform into groups from their single file configuration, and 2)breathe again, like they've been bottled up a long time and now they can move.

In addition to the way in which people exit the building, there's another thing most groups have in common. It's the way they converse in the parking lot. Now obviously I don't walk directly through conversations, but as I traverse the perimeter of the parking lot on my way to the grocery store following a service, I pick up general bits. This is why I like the parking lot. People circle up around car hoods and truck beds. Cigarettes are lit. Laughter, stories, hugs, etc. It doesn't seem to matter what types of cars are in the parking lot. After a service, there's always stories and laughter.

This afternoon my grocery walk coincided with the end of a service. Two mid-20s looking, cigarette-bearing guys stood with an old man. From a distance, they had the look of two estranged brothers standing uncomfortably with their grandfather. Anxious little movements from all of them. The two stood a slight distance from the old man, like they knew he disapproved of their smokes, but they were going to smoke anyway. The old man buried his hands deep in his suit coat pockets.

I walked in to the grocery store and reemerged a few minutes later. The three were still talking. The two still smoking. Hands still buried in coat pockets. As I crossed the street back toward my house, I stole a glance in their direction. They were mid-embrace. All three in one big tangle. I got to the sidewalk on the other side of the street and turned away from them toward my house. From behind me, I wasn't surprised to hear their laughter.

2010-05-06T21:25:00.003-05:00

The sweat dripping down his temple was the only hint that he was alive. Like a gargoyle, the stranger stood motionless in front of me in line. We both had a hankering for Subway, but that's where the similarities end. He was probably 6'7". The cocoon of grease that encased his person made it difficult to tell where clothes ended and skin began. His old leather vest was riddled with "Hell's Angels" type badges. The bandana around his skull hid thin hair pulled back into a pony tail. He wore a black t-shirt. Except his right arm was sleeved. And his right hand bore a glove. Not a motorcycle glove, more like a dentist's glove, tight fitting.

As I took a few steps to the side to glance at the menu, I noticed the boy and his mother in front of Sasquatch man. He couldn't have been more than 8 years old and he couldn't have had anything other than autism. He was silently observing the giant stranger's gloved hand and arm. His mother impatiently recited the orders for sandwiches while being sure to keep ahold of her young son's hand. It was just she and the boy in the store but she was ordering for a battalion.

"On that one I want lettuce, pickles, no tomatoes... no, no... I said no tomatoes... um I guess that's it. On that one I want lettuce, tomatoes... yes I did want it toasted... you know what, don't worry about it, you've already put the toppings on. Forget it." She was right in the middle of her order, no end in sight when the boy's curiosity became too great to contain.

The restaurant was pretty crowded, and the line was certainly packed. You know how Subway lines are. You stand three inches from strangers for like 15 minutes without ever saying a word to them. The weird Subway code of silence. This line was especially silent. I think because we were all a little scared of the monster in front of me. But not the boy.

"What happened?" said the boy innocently, pointing to the giant's gloved hand.

The man craned his massive, bearded head down to meet the boy's gaze.

"I burned it. A long time ago." His voice was scarier that you would have imagined. Think Don LaFontaine with an angry frog in his throat. We, the rest of the line-standers, were surprised both by the sound of his speech and the content of his claim. Everyone got quieter.

The boy's mom sort of froze. She looked back at the huge man who was staring at her son. I swear I saw panic in her eye for a second. The boy slowly let go of his mom's hand and took a step toward the glove. His mom didn't (couldn't?) stop him. Without a word the boy positioned himself on the right side of the giant, facing his mom and the now observing sandwich makers. Then the boy reached up and took the scary man's scary hand in his own. The restaurant was motionless, disarmed. A barely audible gasp from behind me made me turn around. The elderly woman behind me was tearing up.

Spirit That Moves In All Things, I'm grateful that you move in small-town Texas, in Subway lines, in autistic kids.

Warrior Dash

2010-05-06T08:17:00.002-05:00

Check out Crystal's blog for pics of what I did last weekend. And add her to your Google Reader. Cheers.

http://thesweetlifeofshaneandcrystal.blogspot.com/2010/05/warrior-dash_05.html

Miss Moneypenny and predictably Bond

2010-04-30T13:41:00.005-05:00

The only places I go are the gym and to bed. I'm more habitual than a nun dress. (eh, pretty weak) I'm also cheap-o. Like a nun dress. (stronger) So when I learned there was another gym in town whose monthly costs were 1/3 of my current one's, it was aloha Just Fitness 24, and aloha Gym X.

Of course there's a blonde hot desk worker.

When I walk in for the first time to scope the place, she greets me.

Blonde Hot Desk Worker: "Hi can I give you a tour?"

Me: [witty response]

BHDW: [sheepish grin]

I couldn't have scripted it any better.

But obviously there will be no more chapters in this tale. Examine the evidence: she works at a gym; she works at a gym called "Gym X". To state the stereotype, both thermospherically high indicators of centuries-old craziness. But I'd be lying if I said I hated walking past her desk every trip to the gym. There exists, then, a constant tension. A perpetually fulcruming teeter-totter.

So she's Miss Moneypenny. And in this analogy I'm predictably Bond.

By the way I'd recommend all you Blahglievers get a real life Moneypenny. A little flavor for your vanilla days. Unless you like vanilla, which I do. Then she's vanilla on your chocolate days. Wait, this is turning racial. Flavor on your flavorless days.

Reeves out.

Gear Review

2010-03-23T16:45:00.022-05:00

It was at a small, relatively spartan ski resort in Colorado that I spent my spring break. No fully-enclosed gondolas or mid-mountain lodges to pamper me. It was mountain versus man and into battle I could only bring my gear. It would be an understatement to say I survived the week; irresponsible to say I deserve all the credit. I had good gear. So, bravely, I'll share with you my secrets in case you're planning to battle a mountain in wintertime.

Lange World Cup 130 Ski Boot

Purchased online, I was nervous how they would fit. Luckily they stayed true to Mondo sizing and they fit my feet well. The notoriously difficult entry/exit is acceptable considering the extreme comfort my foot enjoyed all day. Good ankle angle for all-mountain shredding and roomy toe-box for warmth made me forget I was wearing ski-boots. I have narrow (but manly) feet, and this kick was just right, so if you've got Frodo feet, bind 'em then buy these boots. They're fantastic. Plus you look macho.

Marker M 11.0 TC Free Binding

Park binding for park skiing, race binding for race skiing. Bindings should purchased for function. I didn't do that. I purchased for price. Luckily they fit my style of skiing (epic) and I can only give these a glowing review. In the one real instance when I needed them to breakaway (sixth gear into waist-deep powder, avoiding trees (I think razor-oaks)), they were flawless. Otherwise, they gave lots of response on the groomers, and stayed tight when the temperatures spiked and made stuff messy.

Rossignol S3 Pommier Ski

Classified as a twin-tip, and called an all-mountain sled with park capability, the S3 can hold it's own anywhere. My 170s had a toe/waist/heel of 122/92/115, making them ultra versatile. They're the SUVs of skis. With less chance of moral judgements being thrown at the owner. While I did spend some time in the park, let's say my quest to see if the skis could handle a triple-Salchow-magnum-pipe-tanker-twist is yet unanswered. There are certainly skis out there that handle speed better, or handle the park better, or handle the trees better, but there are probably few that do all three better. The S3 is like a German Shepherd.

Rossignol Phantom 7000 Ski Poles

They're ski poles. They're all the same. Like men. (WHAT'S UP LADIES!!! Look how funny and self-aware I can be.)

In conclusion, I only gave praise; no critique. If I watched the show, I would make a hilarious American Idol reference here.

Yes, that's an udder:

2010-03-22T14:24:00.002-05:00

Please join the conversation with Justin.

http://justinscott.blogspot.com/

justin scott dot blogspot dot com

2010-03-08T20:57:00.001-05:00

My friend Justin had a good idea. Check it often.

All Cougars Were Once Cubs

2010-02-25T22:51:00.004-05:00

You know what a Cougar is. Demi/Ashton, not Bagheera/Mowgli. I think my hangout (the gym) is the Central Texas Cougar breeding ground.

So of course there's the blonde hot desk worker lady. Probably 25 years old. She greets members as they enter the facility and changes the trash bags. And she's hot. And until recently I thought that was the extent of her job description. Silly me. How foolish I was to think that this flaxen vixen wasn't up to something much more sinister. You see, where a Cougar preys on the younger man, this specimen (speciwoman?) seeks out the older, decrepit male population. She's a Cougar Cub. I noticed it for the first time last week. Then again twice this week. And finally again today. Four times is no coincidence. She's systematic. (I know this isn't the first ever case of young-lady/old-man, but this is so close to home. It's home-grown Cougarism) There's even a specific spot in the gym (the recumbent bikes) that she stakes out. She's like an actual cougar laying in the tall grass, waiting for some dopey dear at a watering hole. She waits for the old chap to settle in, break a light sweat, then she pounces. Sure, to the untrained eye it looks like they're having a pleasant conversation, but I'm not convinced. I refuse to believe that she's concerned about the patrons of her employer and that it is in her best interest to make sure they're comfortable. Bull.

While I can't technically substantiate any of these allegations (I always have headphones on. Angry gangster rap blaring. It scares me, and fear is a natural muscle builder. Read a book.), I'm working on my lip-reading skills. I'm still a novice but I think today Cougar Cub asked the unsuspecting fella (anything I write here will be misconstrued as inappropriate sexual innuendo so I'll take the high road and end the sentence now. Sicko.).

The only remaining chapter to be written in this story includes the tale where I, in a slip of the tongue, accidentally call her "Cougar Cub" to her face. Stay tuned.

NASCAR doesn't need you.

2010-02-16T17:09:00.004-05:00

As I lie in bed sick listening to the Tony Kornheiser Radio Show on podcast while slamming O-Juice and wheat crackers with natural peanut butter (my usual routine, sans the natural peanut butter), I'm reaching my limit of "NASCAR has ruined itself with the Daytona 500 debacle last weekend" drivel. If you didn't see what happened, here's a quick recap. On lap... whatever, a pothole formed on the track like a melanoma on a nudist skier. And like a melanoma on a nudist skier, you can't be surprised that a pothole appeared. Apparently the track hadn't had a complete resurfacing since the 1970s. The race had to be stopped a couple times for a combined total of roughly 2.5 hours, while allegedly incompetent road crews patched the pothole with a mixture of sand and toothpaste. The whole thing was televised. Nationally. The race finished in the dark. The sports-voices have been crucifying NASCAR for mishandling the situation, embarrassing themselves on national TV during what was their Super Bowl event. "It was NASCAR's chance to connect with the general viewer and they ruined it."

Was it inexcusable that a pothole formed during the Daytona freaking 500? Yes. Once the hole formed, was the situation embarrassingly mishandled? Probably. But I have one message for the NASCAR-haters, those who think NASCAR's image is irreparably marred: NASCAR doesn't need you. Keep berating NASCAR. Keep criticizing. See if they care. I'll quote myself from earlier in this article (this needs to be done more often- quoting oneself from the very article in which one is still writing): "the track hadn't had a complete resurfacing since the 1970s." That means they've been racing since the 1970s. At this point, that's like 40 years. That's the better part of 51 years, which is the better part of 100 years! 100 years!!!!

Look, NASCAR has been kicking for a long time and has a deep (and more importantly, loyal) fan base who aren't going to be ultimately put off by a few extra hours of maintenance during a race. So to sports-voices having a hate-field-day over NASCAR and its forever-damaged image, you need to be cut off like a melanoma on a... you know.

P.S. No hair cuts 'till Warrior Dash

2010-01-04T23:13:00.004-05:00

I'm not going to mention anything about being absent for a number of months and how I'm so sorry that to make it up to every one of you Blahglievers, I'll give each of you a signed copy of the gold metal I may win in the future.

A wrap-up in list form:

LSAT

Motorcycle

Car

Work

Exercise

LSAT

Bagel Sandwich

and that's about it.

The waning sixth of my 2009 was dominated by LSAT reading and studying and I re-learned something that 18 years of school had tried to teach me: the idea that studying makes a difference is a myth. Like a Native American rapper.

Instead of the paragraph that used to be right here, which was full of weird, probably uninterpretable jokes, I'll simply say I'm retesting in February and I'm willing to cheat if you have cunning methods.

Current Reading

Princeton Readings in Political Thought

Mitchell Cohen and Nicole Fermon, Editors

Taking a hint from my friend Kasey, one goal I have this year is to increase correspondence. Let's talk Blahglievers. If you're in or near central TX, on belay.

Sorry for the double post. Perhaps it won't happen again.

Masseur? I say Saboteur!

2009-10-08T15:49:00.008-05:00

If you've ever swallowed a razor-edged bowl of swine flu, you know what kind of pain I'm in. And all in the name of Christ.

Last night I went to a new Bible study group for the first time. Young sort of people from the local community church. Perhaps I was wrong to assume that they wouldn't try to kill me.

"Oh, come in!! It's so nice to meet you!! Let me get you a cinnamon roll!! Oh, put your name on this list, we've got a masseuse upstairs and you can get a turn!!"

Wow. This is my kind of Bible study. Or this is how cults start. Either way, I'm in.

Rookie mistake, Reeves.

I should have picked up their meta-meaning, "Hi, how about an extra large torture?"

So I sign up. And have a cinnamon roll. It's breakfast for dinner night. I chat with med school Waldo (tall, skinny schmo in red/white horizontally striped shirt. That's Waldo, right?!) about the virtues and vices of artificial sugar, and chat with Affliction t-shirt guy about his level of twiddledicketry. All is normal at the Bible study.

"Hey Luke, your turn for the massage!"

On belay.

I fritz you not, the rub down lasted less than 10 minutes. Just a quick teaser because everyone in the whole group was going to take a turn. Surprisingly though, there was plenty of time for me to hear "Michelle's" entire life story; the challenges and rewards of being a single mother massage therapist in small-town Texas.

The rest of the evening sort of runs together... like two people who run together. There was talk of Sabbath, I was the butt of some reading jokes. The evening ended without incident. I even had a pleasant feeling as I left. Another rookie mistake.

This morning I wake up.

+Side note: I just moved. I live in a place called Riddle Manor. I have a chandelier. Deal with it. And deal with the plus signs.+

I look at the chandelier. All is well. I inhale.

One thousand miniature scorpions synchronously shift position within the muscles of my neck and back and head. Then they all fire their plasma rifles at each other. Objectively, this made passing a grapefruit-sized kidney stone seem like eating cotton candy. The ER doctor would later say that not since the 50th anniversary performance of the original Radio City Rockettes, has anyone been in that much pain. I would rather wear earrings made from my eyes than get another massage.

I don't know what Michelle's political opinions are, but she's dangerous. Sure she would be slower than a Crock Pot, but she is a weapon capable of mass destruction.

I've unceremoniously graduated from rookie status. Let me warn you, Blahglievers- never get a massage. And if you're a massage therapist- I'm telling the FBI.

The Reeves Theory of Automotive Twiddledicketry

2009-09-26T21:40:00.010-05:00

Working on Saturday is like a used Snickers bar at customer service- No redeeming value.

Working on Saturday when it's absolutely beautiful outside is like grounding yourself for getting grounded- nonsensical voluntary punishment.

So after working all day inside Saturday, I couldn't wait to get out and take a bike ride. I saddled up, donning the requisite black spandex shorts, and, on this occasion, a black shirt. I know you're supposed to wear synthetic, flamboyantly hued biking jerseys, but I prefer the touch, the feel of cotton.

At about 5:30 pm I set out on a new route, west into the small country that is Ft. Hood. The road was smooth and the traffic was sparse. The 80 beautiful degrees in the air made the first 15 miles zoom by.

Rounding a gentle right hander, I received some handlebar feedback like I was riding through tapioca. Then noises like I was filleting a guinea pig.

*If you're my mom, or another potential employer, please skip ahead for the G rated version.

Now we rejoin the action where our hero has bravely endeavored on a multi-mile bike ride without a phone, or a bike maintenance kit, or a pump, or a water bottle, or a brain.

I stopped and quickly saw that my front tire was flatter than last semester's soda. The desolate road loomed behind me. I turned and began the walk. An objective observer would put the turn-around time at 6:15 pm. Plenty of time before sunset, right?

Though the cars (actually trucks, because I'm in Texas and it's illegal to not drive a truck) were few and far between, none of those that did pass stopped to offer help. However, some offered other things. Like honks and yelps and empty water bottles. It was then I developed, then witnessed in action, the Reeves Theory of Automotive Twiddledicketry. First a definition: 'twiddledick' is simply a funnier word for 'tool,' comparable in crudeness to 'butthead.'

As all unified theories, its beauty is in its simplicity. Goes like this:

Your level of twiddledicketry is directly proportional to the number of bolt-on bits your car has.

Take for example the following 3 actual cases.

Case 1: 1987 Chevrolet pickup. Bolt-on Flowmaster catback exhaust system. Relatively simple, minor upgrade. I received a honk. Just barely a twiddledick.

Case 2: 2005 Cadillac Escalade. 24 inch rims. Window tinting. Toupee-ruining stereo. Middle of the road amount of upgrades. I received a window roll down and a yelp. Certified twiddledick.

Case 3: 2002 Dodge Neon. Spray paint black. Bondo-colored full body kit. Uber-vulgar spoiler. Maxwell House-can exhaust pipe. Slammed suspension, riding deep dish Enkeis. He approached from head-on. After burbling past innocently, he could be heard slowing down, turning around then re-approaching. Now advancing from behind me, he floored it, leaving in his wake what can only be called the sound of sin. He disappeared around a corner only to reappear seconds later, now driving toward me again. I knew this nincompoop had a plan, so I held my helmet as a Spartan his shield. Car approaching, window descending, empty plastic water bottle catapulting toward me, shouts of laughter. Twiddledick.

The sun set just after 7 so I enjoyed a starlit walk which totaled 2.5ish hours (about 1.75 in the dark). In my ridiculous black outfit. Even my helmet is black. Luckily I didn't die.

Moral of the story- don't be an unprepared biking idiot, but even more, don't be a twiddledick.

*So I soldiered on and the story ended without incident.

The gym buddy, Czar Peter.

2009-08-28T12:22:00.006-05:00

Confession: I'm a card-carrying member of a gym. I pay someone for the privilege of picking up their weighty objects. I realize any argument offered after that sentence can't be based on logic. But whatever, dude.

Two days ago, I was on the last rep of a superset of pushups when I was most surprisingly interrupted by a newcomer. A newbie to this gym.

"Three, four, five," I counted mentally, then stood up to find the love-child of John Madden and Wilford Brimley standing and staring about 8 inches away.

"I'll tell you what you need to do!" he trumpeted, as if training a schnauzer to sit. "Follow me!" He led me across the gym to a machine intended to make guys with no neck have even less of a neck. "You'll want to lean this way and push that way..."

He continued with the instructional monologue, but I was busy picturing a guy with a neck so small that his skull sat right atop his spleen...

Anyway.

"Thanks for the advice, Sir. I may try that next time. Sounds good."

And he walked away. Weird. But whatever. Gym guys are sort of like that.

Chapter 2. Yesterday evening I walk into the gym and I see Mr. Madden-Brimley. And this time he's full-on training a guy I know to be a lone wolf; a guy who talks to and knows nobody here. So I KNOW he doesn't know this new man. And Madden-Brimley is coarsely, I mean coarsely, coaching this dude. "Let's go Michael! Come on Michael! One more!! Two more Michael!! Squeeze it Michael!!"

Whoa.

'Michael' is standing in front of the mirror wall curling a bar on which Madden-Brimley is basically hanging. He's coaching the crap out of this guy he doesn't know.

But that's not even the best part. After 12,000 reps and some CPR, Michael was allowed a break. M-B goes into the diet advice.

"Looks like you might like to have a beer every now and then. That's OK, but if you can cut down on that, that's good. And the carbs. Cut down on the carbs, too. Breads, pastas, grains." I'm quoting as accurately as this keyboard will allow. Promise. There was a gym full of witnesses.

And it hit me- Take away the penchant for hard drinking and the pituitary giantism and Madden-Brimley is Czar Peter. This must be what it's like to just get taken over. A guy arrives on the scene and just runs things. There was a strange power in it all.

Needless to say, I've got to go; I have another training session in 15 minutes with Madden-Brimley.

Racism in the AM

2009-08-27T14:06:00.005-05:00

"They're always tryin' to Jew me out of money and you may be too!" croaked the old bat with whom I had been speaking on the phone for about 10 minutes. I opted not to ask her to repeat herself.

Rosemary was her name, and verbal hospitality wasn't her game. I had to talk to her for work. The weird part is, we were trying to give her money. Exactly.

I should explain for those Blahglievers who don't know, I work for an oil and natural gas company. Rosemary owns interest under a piece of land with which we're dealing, so she's got money coming her way. I guess I too would be skeptical if some adorable sounding guy called me up and said he had money for me, but I don't think anti-Semitism would be my go-to move. I might just hang up and leave the country.

"I ain't signin' nothin'"

"Ma'am, you do realize we're not requesting, but offering money, right?"

"I don't want that dirty money, you can keep it! And you can stop all this callin' here too!"

I was as puzzled by her backhanded embezzlement accusation as by her presumption that this one phone call had multiplied into many. But this was a piece of business that needed to get solved for our company, so bravely, I hung up. And ate a donut. Because it was just after 8 in the morning. At least I only had 7.5 remaining hours at work to dwell on my professional failure and personal insecurity.

Have a wonderful, insult-free day Blahglievers.

“When faced with one’s mortality, one tends to seriously consider one’s mortality.”- Someonestotle

2009-08-19T08:39:00.002-05:00

I’m tired of all the rumors, let me settle this- I don’t have night vision. I found this out last night when I went for a sunset walk down along the lakeshore. [cue Mahler’s 5^th Symphony] A dull crowd of clouds became a colorful Hokusai masterpiece as the sagging sun dipped low over the water’s glassy surface.

I began the roughly 7-minute walk back up to the house as the first stars broke through the paling sky. The area is rather densely forested. Think Baron Davis’ beard. Mid-way up the unlit path I heard a rustle in the undergrowth a few yards (way less than 1000) from me. Now I know this area to be populated by a family of mountain lions; they feed on high-school boys who drive 13ft. tall pickup trucks that sound like C130s sans mufflers. (That demographic needs to turn to salt.) So obviously I was confident I’d soon be face-to-face with a famished lion.

You know how they say your life flashes before you? Well life flashed me. And out stepped a deer. A Hokusai portrait (have I used that one) of nonchalance. It was eating something (I assume human flesh), and it was so relaxed it was chewing with its mouth open. Punk. Then out stepped his mom. They both flicked up their crappy little white tails (that’s deer for the bird) and walked away. Bravely I survived the ordeal, because to quote GOB Bluth, “if anything had happened to me, I can’t imagine how sad I’d be.” [recue Mahler’s 5^th Symphony].

I love you Blahglievers. Welcome back.

And That's Why Constantine Was The First Yankees Fan

2009-07-10T15:24:00.003-05:00

I’d be more surprised than LeBron getting dunked on by Gary Coleman if anyone seriously argued with the idea that the New York Yankees are the biggest bandwagon-fan-magnet-franchise on planet earth. A hat-surveying alien would find Yankee fans across the globe, and certainly across the U.S.

In 313 A.D. Emperor Constantine issued the Edict of Milan, which legalized Christianity throughout the Roman Empire. Prior to that, Christians had been ruthlessly persecuted by the Roman Emperors, beginning in 64 A.D. with Nero; the wacknut who makes Hitler look like a Jonas brother. How nice of Constantine, right? Except that Christianity had become accepted, indeed practiced publicly by the time Constantine made the Edict. The persecutions, intense and grizzly at first, had hugely cooled off. The Emperor noticed the rise in popularity of Christianity and however conveniently “saw a vision and converted to Christianity.” He jumped headfirst on the Christian bandwagon.

The Constantine apologist says, “Hey, he’s a Christian, his conversion was real, give him a break. He was made a Saint!”

I say, “Really? His conversion didn’t stop him from executing many of his political opponents, and members of his own family including his brother-in-law, his second wife, and his first-born son. HIS FIRST-BORN SON!!! Saint my foot.”

If the Yankees were around in 313 A.D., Emperor Constantine would have jumped on that bandwagon too.

Top Ten thoughts Derek Fisher has while throwing up a big 3 point shot.

2009-06-12T09:40:00.004-05:00

10. Do HD cameras add 10 pounds of fat or muscle?
9. If this airballs, act like it was a pass to Dwight Howard.
8. This is gonna look sweet in slow-mo.
7. If this goes, I’m unveiling a new catch phrase. “Fresh Fish!!” No. “You can’t catch this fish!!” No…
6. Is there a hockey game on right now?
5. If we win the ‘ship, do we get to go to Obama’s house?
4. If we win the ‘ship will they give us a key to the city? It’s 2009, surely Los Angeles has keyless entry…
3. If we win the ‘ship, will they give us cars? I don’t want a Buick. Tiger made the right move getting out of that Centrum Silver-soaked contract.
2. Kobe should have taken this shot.
1. I would have so much more street cred if I just got a tat.

TR at TED

2009-05-19T08:40:00.000-05:00

On Truth, Television, and Tall people

2009-05-05T15:53:00.006-05:00

The Science Channel is my 'roids and I'm Nitro the American Gladiator. How it's Made is my spice, and I'm a Fremen.

The TV in our office runs all day, ever present, like Eeyore's rain cloud, imparting wisdom to our subconscious. The only two numbers you need to know when you work here are 206 (ESPN) and 284 (Science). If for no other reason that the following, I like the Science Channel: a show ran today simply called "Really Big Things," whose host was 6' 8" and 270 lbs. That's truth in advertising, Blahglievers.

In other news, the Rockets beat my Lakers, my Yankees look as confident as the "Boom goes the dynamite" guy, and even though it's the offseason, Duke basketball is probably making a mistake. Fan-freakin'-tastic.

And that's why you should keep reading what I write.

2009-04-29T18:11:00.008-05:00

Feels like I haven't published in the Obama era. I won't offer a reason, I'll only say that if there was a reason, I wouldn't offer it.This Blahg's been more useless than toilet paper to a scuba diver. But no more. Here I make a promise to myself that this space will become more useful than a sign-language teacher's 3rd hand.

I'm thinking a lot on the NBA playoffs. I love basketball. Pro basketball. Sure, college basketball is fun for like 36 hours during the Spring Equinox, but it is fun like a go-kart with a flat tire: you can get the thing moving, but it's too slow and too small. I'm working up a treatise on my sports philosophy, wherein I'll implicate myself the ultimate sports heretic, acting the apologist for (get ready) the Yankees, the Lakers, AND Duke basketball. But that's for another day when I feel supremely confident and able to handle insults by the truckload.

For now, I'll say that I'm super stoked on the NBA playoffs this year. Lakers look unstoppable; 'Bron is giving us one of those rare sports seasons which will appear on ESPN Classic for years to come (he's the MVP, the finals MVP, and he'll bring the O'Brien trophy to Cleveland), and those 'Amazing' commercials with the black and white, the piano music, and the slow motion are completely freakin' wicked.

In other ridiculous news, happy birthday brother Micah. Can't believe you're 17. What the?

And current (far left):

Music update

2009-04-21T13:43:00.002-05:00

Current Listening

The Caged Bird by Boulder Acoustic Society

'Tis the Season of sickness. Buckle up.

2009-04-15T12:06:00.000-05:00

He's a Reeves

2009-04-14T16:50:00.001-05:00

My brother Ben kickin' @$$ at the rodeo.

Signs of the Impending Adult Apocalypse?

2009-04-10T09:29:00.003-05:00

Receiving a "Preferred Customer" notice from Brooks Brothers. I'm either grown up or white.

Twitter name TeamOstertag. Join me.

2009-04-01T21:32:00.000-05:00

Thank you Erin Shilcutt for this

2009-03-17T12:11:00.001-05:00

Things I learned last week in Colorado

2009-03-16T20:45:00.005-05:00

I'm not amused, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

Mrs. Winegeart is the iron chef.
Life's better with family.
How to play forty-two.
How to lose at forty-two.
When one brother throws up twice in one night, and another brother throws up 13 times that same night, you shouldn't sleep on the floor between their beds.
Get ski boots that fit or else your big toe nail might fall off.
Robert McCall is the Jackie Chan of skiers; he does all his own stunts, and he does them big.
Going a week without cell phone reception wasn't difficult at all.
Ender's Game is awesome.

Brother in Blue

2009-03-09T22:08:00.003-05:00

Brother in Blue, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

Hi Blahglievers. The weather was too wonderful, so we scampered up into the foothills by a frozen waterfall yesterday. We hit the slopes tomorrow. I hope it's under 80 degrees where you are.

Tree of no ledge

2009-03-07T01:37:00.002-05:00

Tree of no ledge, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

I'm off to Colorado for the week with the family. See you dudes on the slopes.

Orangutans have feelings too: a phone transctipt

2009-03-03T08:37:00.005-05:00

Tux Rental Lady: "Oh you know your tux sizes already?"

Me: "Yeah, I got measured recently for another wedding, can I read them to you over the phone? The nearest [name removed by censors] store is like 45 minutes away."

TRL: "Oh sure, that'd be great. Go ahead."

Me: [reads measurements]

TRL: [pauses] "Are you sure about those measurements?"

Me: "Pretty sure, how come?"

TRL: "Well if those are your arm and torso measurements and such... are you sure about those numbers?"

Me: "What's the problem?"

TRL: "Well those measurements are for the body type of like an orangutan. Maybe you should go into one of our stores to get remeasured."

Admittedly, I had been pretty colloquial with her all conversation, somehow trying to get this tux for free, so I guess she felt comfortable throwing primate insults. And I didn't get the tux for free.

Moon Pirates

2009-03-01T17:53:00.001-05:00

Moon Pirates, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

Little known tread on Neil Armstrong's boot.

And the laugh was genuine, too. I could tell.

2009-02-27T08:27:00.005-05:00

Last night I went to a photography workshop hosted by CapMac, with special guest Trey Ratcliff of stuckincustoms.com on the HDR method. Check out his site and browse the images if you're unfamiliar with HDR, it's pretty fascinating. His presentation was nothing if not riveting, touching on every topic from how the eye processes lines, to the superiority of one software's algorithms to another's, to the future of vocation/avocation trends, ending with a well-reasoned philosophy of open-source. Seriously this cat was impressive. He walked us through the process of creating an HDR product, then stayed after long enough to answer "I've never heard of that" to my question, "what do you know about EDR photography?" Then I broke the weird silence with the one-two punch of a witty comment and some subtle non-verbals which said, "that was sarcasm, please laugh!" And he did. And he did. It was awesome.

Riding Shotgun

2009-02-26T09:21:00.002-05:00

IMG_9293, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

Finished a ride, took off my helmet and found this dude hitching a ride.

The sun'll come out

2009-02-24T17:30:00.002-05:00

IMG_9206, originally uploaded by LukeReeves.

From the early morning drive from Abilene to Belton yesterday:

GrasSPing for another victory

2009-02-24T08:45:00.005-05:00

Check out brother Ben directing Gamma Sigma Phi to a win. And listen at the very end of the video for the videographer's take.

Choices, Barry Schwartz TED 2005

2009-02-20T09:31:00.002-05:00

It's a good Friday: got a bike yesterday, watched this talk this morning, going home tonight. See you cats in Abilene and I'll quiz you on this video.

Bull Session

2009-02-16T22:57:00.008-05:00

"The longer I live the more beautiful life becomes."

Frank Lloyd Wright

Have you ever accidentally attended a Bull Session? As it turns out, my local coffee spot is owned and operated by none other than Jerry Grote, former catcher for the world champion'69 New York Mets. What the heck? This kind old dude that gives me coffee once caught fast balls from Nolan Ryan?

It was cool to listen to his stories of the bigs, recalling details with near-savant accuracy. While he claimed he didn't miss playing the game, the gusto with which he narrated his memories betrayed him. It was special to sit and listen to the wisdom of an elder who had experience from which to speak, because he didn't just talk baseball. He has raised prize-winning cattle, opened a small coffee shop, and endeavored through 40+ years of marriage. I was glad to soak up some old-man wisdom.

Lots of links

2009-02-16T12:37:00.004-05:00

Hope you cats had a good weekend. I spent mine with Halberton at a sweet Citizen Cope concert. It was my first experience at the legendary Stubb's Bar-B-Q; great place. Perhaps my favorite part was a cover of Radiohead's Karma Police. Taken on a phone camera from our little spot of dirt:

Question for your Friday

2009-02-13T09:14:00.000-05:00

Not to whom, but for whom is prayer?

But I'm hopeful for the summer

2009-02-10T08:53:00.002-05:00

Spent the weekend in Abilene. Talking and laughing with my brothers carried into Sunday evening and night so rather than do a late pm drive back to Belton, I went early Monday morning. Beautiful, calm drive. Fog and mist in the dark of morning.

Explosions In The Sky, my traveling companion.

I couldn't shake a phrase uttered in a prayer at church, "God, it's winter in so many ways..."

It wasn't the phrase that got me; it was the fact that it resonated with me.

There wasn't another soul on the road, I could drive as fast as I wanted. But I slowed down, set the cruise under the speed limit because I didn't want the trip to end. The stars vanished and the sky began to lighten, and I wished I was driving west. I knew the sun would bring day, which would bring people out on to what had become my road.

The phrase still on repeat, God, it's the winter in so many ways. You feel it too?

Yes, I did it too.

2009-02-05T08:58:00.003-05:00

Following Sarah's lead, I did the 25 list thing. It's a facebook trend. Write 25 random things, facts, habits, idiosyncrasies about yourself in an effort to connect with people. Whatever, here's mine.

1. I’m wearing a long-sleeved polo-type shirt over a regular polo shirt. Yes, that’s two collars and yes it looks absurd.
2. Pretty sure I just ate a moldy raspberry.
3. I’m the second born of five boys, ranging in age from 26 to 9. I can’t imagine a better childhood.
4. Holy crap, I’m only on 4? This is taking forever.
5. Warehouse, by Dave Matthews Band just came on. If deserted on an island or iceberg and I could only listen to one band for the rest of my roasting or freezing life, it would be Dave Matthews Band. Easily. Or Acappella.
6. I love cars. Lets talk cars.
7. I did gymnastics for ¾ of a semester in high school. They gave me the most improved gymnast award. It’s still embarrassing.
8. People problems are nearly always solved by clear, frequent, and effective communication.
9. I don’t like video games.
10. One of my good friends asked me if I was mildly autistic. He was serious.
11. In college I didn’t sleep in my own bed for a semester on a bet with a guy who cheated after 2 weeks and never told me.
12. I was in marching band. I played the trombone. No, you can’t have my autograph.
13. I grew up in Boulder, Colorado. I moved to Abilene, Texas my senior year in high school and 2 weeks later by house burned down. I might have been a hero, I don’t remember.
14. One of my current thought topics is ‘categories of reality.’ I can’t decide where or how to categorize God.
15. I’m pretty athletic, but I’m a horrible athlete, you know? I can do a push-up but I can’t catch a ball.
16. I need about 2 minutes alone for every minute I spend with people.
17. Today I toured a historical home that was built in the 1800s. It had slave quarters. It now belongs to one of my co-workers. Slave quarters were empty.
18. If I had to pick a best person in the world, it would probably be my mom.
19. If number 21 doesn’t move you, you have no soul.
20. When I was 16 years old I was 4’11’’ and 85 pounds. I have the driver’s license to prove it.
21. Mac not PC, car not truck, salty not sweet, mountains not beach.
22. Christianity in one word- grace.
23. I hate talking on the phone. If you call, I probably won’t answer.
24. Probably my favorite book is Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. Read it and you will know a whole lot about me.
25. My name is Christopher Luke Reeves. At the beginning of one semester, I told the class “I go by Christ.” It was a Bible class. I got a C.

Gross Grammar

2009-02-04T09:06:00.002-05:00

"MySpace Turns Over 90,000 Names of Registered Sex Offenders"

MySpace provided two state attorneys general the names of 90,000 registered sex offenders it had banned from its site in response to a subpoena.

Yeah, I was just as shocked as you. I didn't know the plural was said, "attorneys general." Crazy.

24 Hours Later

2009-02-03T08:52:00.003-05:00

A pair of challenges was placed before me yesterday. The following survivor's tale is based on actual events yesterday.

1. I went for human contact instead of going into the earphones and music zone while at work. By day's end, I had had an interesting discussion on heaven, hell, and the incomprehensibleness of the flexibility of time as it approaches the speed of light. More importantly than what we shared, was that we shared. I'm going to try to do more of that. That means I'm calling you soon, Patrick, because I want to hear your thoughts on the nature of emotion. If any other Blahglievers want to jump into the game, I'd love to hear your thoughts, through any medium you want; phone, email, pigeon. My friend Patrick has a talent for asking good questions, most recently: Is emotion corporeal? What must Christians, those who are born again in spirit, do with emotion?

I like to dive deep into the questions Patrick thinks on. As a preview, Patty, what if I argued that emotion is the ingredient that makes us human, and the bridge that connects us with the divine?

2. I ran my laptop battery all the way down. Nothing positive came of this. While I was working, warnings, pleas for help kept popping into view. "Running on 10% battery power. Please hook computer up to power source... pretty please"

It was heart breaking.

Blessings on you Blahglievers today. Go connect with someone.

I'm trying it today

2009-02-02T09:34:00.003-05:00

Today I will:

1. not put on earphones and listen to music at work. I seriously love being zoned in with just music and work. No distractions. But that also means no human contact. Today I unplug.

2. run my laptop's battery all the way down. I mean all the way. I hate doing this. I like any and all electronic devices I have (laptop, cell phone, flashlight, mobile charging device for other electronic devices, etc.) to be at 100% battery power 100% of the time.

I expect total failure, but hope for less than total failure. I'll let you know.

Learning about myself

2009-01-29T18:04:00.002-05:00

1. Today my stomach growled and I swear it sounded like, "I'm not it"

2. I chew gum with my left jaws and food with my right jaws. Ambidextrous with sunflower seeds.

Two in One Day

2009-01-28T20:18:00.007-05:00

I understand that this makes two automobile related posts in one day, but deal. I love cars, and the death of a giant is worth noting. So is the death of the half-pint teenage cousin of the giant. Saturday, Isuzu will officially shut off its engine for the last time. I'm actually a little sad. Isuzu gave us such machines as the objectively beautiful Vehicross:

and the SR-71-like Impulse:

I have great memories of a buddy who drove a 1991 Impulse RS. As Isuzu's top performance hatchback, it featured a rudimentary AWD system and a tiny turbo which, when combined with the "Handling By Lotus" badge affixed to the front fender, made for a more exciting ride than walking. R.I.P Isuzu.

Missed her noof ord

2009-01-28T09:08:00.004-05:00

Dear Mr. New Ford,

I was there when for months you came to the morning coffee shop in your plain white '97 Ford F150 pickup. Two wheel drive, single cab, long bed, rusty front left fender. I was there to see you didn't have keyless entry so every day after you bought your coffee you set it on the roof while you unlocked the door. I was there when you pulled in too fast, hit the curb hard, then got out and cussed after seeing the new dent in the old bumper. I was there when you talked slowly every day, no energy in your voice. I was there.

And I'm here today when you pull in with your new Ford. '09 F150 King Ranch Edition. Four wheel drive, crew cab, two-tone maroon and tan paint scheme, 20 inch alloys. I'm here when you get out and hit the button on the keyless system 4 times. I'm here when you strut in and order a grande instead of the usual tall, with an extra shot of pride. And I know, more than most, where you've been. I know your struggle and your victory. I know you Mr. New Ford.

Gym Rats, a transcript

2009-01-27T08:46:00.003-05:00

At 24 hour fitness center yesterday evening. Predictable cast present: aerobi-glider spandex senior woman; short shorts on the treadmill doctor; muscle-head, shaved-arm, watch themselves in the mirror dudes; hasn't started working out yet but stretches a lot and watches himself in the mirror guy. Me.

Shaved-Arm Dude: "Hey man, is that move you're doing for your post-anterior deltoid?"

Luke: [pulls out earphone right at the good part Enrique Iglesias' Do You Know (the Ping Pong Song)] "I'm sorry"

S.A.D.: "Does that work the post-anterior deltoid?" [points to inside of his shoulder and moves arm in circle while obviously flexing entire body for effect]

L: "um...yes?"

S.A.D.: [in a used car salesman kind of way] "Ha, yeah I thought so. It's workin' for you bro. You've got some squibbly shoulders."

L: "um...yes?"

If it is bragging to be publishing the fact that I have 'squibbly' shoulders, then I'm sorry. But I think I might have been out-vocabularied by shaved-arm dude, and that's nothing to brag about.

Math, President

2009-01-21T09:06:00.004-05:00

As I'm (thumbing?) through the Google Reader this morning, it appears that people watched yesterday. Sure, I thought that prayer kicked butt, but I'm not going to contribute to the body of blog work which has materialized on our new president over the last few weeks and months. By a rough count I did this morning, there have been 260 trillion trillion trillion articles written about President Obama in the last 24 hours. Stacked end to end, they would stretch for about 14 billion light years, and while I'm aware that would be bigger than the accepted size of our universe, I'm also aware that I could have forgotten to carry a 1 here and there in my calculation. Bottom line, I bet neither Obama nor Bush could (thumb?) through the internet any better.

Also, my spell checker says "Obama" is spelled incorrectly. Really? You'd think someone would have added that to the dictionary by now.

Schmirreconcilable Schmifferences

2009-01-19T12:14:00.010-05:00

Current Reading

The Opposable Mind

by Roger Martin

It is about integrative thinking, combining two options which appear mutually exclusive rather than choosing one. It didn't help. My two options were 1: respecting myself, and 2: looking like a dang fool. Unable to integrate the two, I caved and went under the scissors of Dr. Brent Reeves.

2008 Editor-in-Chief

2009 Editor-in-Chief

Photo credits: Micah Reeves

In which you get the full update.

2009-01-15T16:53:00.002-05:00

Welcome back, Blahglievers. Some things I've learned in '09:

1. I like thinking more than I like acting

2. I like to spend time with nobody

3. www.ted.com is the most awesome site

4. There is value in becoming a regular at a small-time eatery

5. You shouldn't wear your shorts backwards during a workout yesterday

6. Although basically memorized, Arrested Development still makes me laugh

7. Cmap is a great piece of software

8. I'm not sure I'll ever tire of the soundtrack from The Grizzly Man

9. All good lists come in nines

Look for more posts more frequently in the future; new things in o'nine.

I hate it when

2008-12-27T01:23:00.003-05:00

people post on their blogs super long, involved video clips. So not only will I do just that, but I'll spoil the ending. From a talk given at TED in February 2006 by Robert Wright:

"All the salvation of the world requires is the intelligent pursuit of self-interest, in a disciplined and careful way."

When you've got about 20 minutes:

Yes, that's a Wright brothers reference

2008-12-13T09:46:00.002-05:00

From my experience, an unhappy Blahgliever is like a brand new typewriter, really easy to push their buttons. So ask and you will receive, Halbetron. While I'm not quite poised for a full scale return, I'll give a light sample of my recent ponderings.

Tuesday at my local morning coffee spot, I look out the front window. A silhouetted figure, backlit by the rising sun approaches. Though I can see nothing of his features, I know immediately this person is military. They've got the military walk, you know. So I wrote him a rap. Heads up for a video performance.

the militar-y walk

maybe its the uniform, the mono-pattern-atic garb

restricting normal walking form, like donning warning-fence barbs

or maybe there's a predator, who hunts down only cammo

and in the citizen world, speed walking is the soldier's only ammo

demographically challenged, perhaps some light inbreeding

leads to infant imbalance, rarely fixed before weening

a chip develops and on their shoulder envelops

'till older when it makes their grudge against society swell up

so to retaliate against their self-imposed enslavement

they congregate and then they take it out on the pavement

chorus:

it's the militar-y walk, just look at how he walks,

the mass-produces, fast-induced, new red neck c-walk

it's the militar-y walk, it's faster than thee walks,

rivaling the pace of orville back at kitty hawk

2008-10-22T13:50:00.003-05:00

Remember me?

For a little while longer, the blahging break will continue, but when I return, it will be in full strength; no holds barred and no bars held. And a semicolon in each post. Guaranteed.

You've been warned.

Since we last spoke

2008-08-25T13:54:00.002-05:00

Some stuff has happened since I last published:

1. Read the Harry Potter series
2. Got a job doing property research for an oil and gas company in Belton, TX. Started today.

I guess that's it.

Like the teeth of a shark

2008-07-23T13:26:00.004-05:00

I want to treat this information sensitively, because humans disappearing is sensitive stuff. Some of the faithful Blahglievers have journeyed with me through the valley of the shadow of the University of Phoenix for quite some time now. Friends, we've been flanked.
I can't say I was ready for the cavalry. I thought I had my hands full with the infantry. Then, when I least expect it, Jenine transforms into Holly. That's right, people, my case has been reassigned. Like she knows me, this "Holly" bird leaves me a voicemail yesterday claiming to be my admissions representative. How dare she? Has she any idea of the relationship Jenine and I had formed? Has she any idea of the strength of my resolve to never speak with her?

Joking aside, I might actually miss Jenine. I had grown accustomed to her voice. She was the one bit of humanity in an otherwise technological and robotic world. Jenine, wherever you are, I hope you never forget the battle that was prematurely ended between us. I hope you remember the patience and perseverance with which you pursued me; the endless perseverance. Cheers. And to you Holly, buckle up. You've only strengthened my resolve to never answer your calls. From now on, I fight in memory of Jenine, my first telecommunications stalker. There's something special about the first; I'll never forget you Jenine.

The Cellular Theater is not over

2008-07-14T16:56:00.006-05:00

Man, before I knew it, a month had passed and I hadn't published. Since last press date, a thousand things have happened, but one stands out: the 1 missed call from Jenine. It was almost comforting to listen to her message after a nearly 2 month silence. So all is not quiet on the cellular front; the battle of wills rages on. A la muerte Jenine!!

2008-06-13T09:35:00.000-05:00

Current Reading
Warped Passages: Unraveling the Mysteries of the Universe's Hidden Dimensions
by Lisa Randall

Current Listening
The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place
by Explosions In The Sky

Awesome

2008-06-11T09:56:00.002-05:00

From the Times yesterday:

Game Over: Sudoku Spoils a Trial in Australia

By Mike Nizza

Say what you will about the performance of the airline industry — it was first to identify a threat in sudoku.

In one of the first major signs that the game had grown into a phenomenon, British Airways told its 13,000-strong force of flight attendants in 2006 that they were forbidden to play sudoku during takeoffs and landings.

Two years later, the number puzzle, which has its own section on NYTimes.com, has succeeded in spoiling a federal criminal case in Australia, wasting almost $1 million in the process. Judge Peter Zahra made the decision to abort the trial and discharge the jury after the forewoman admitted to a prodigious amount of puzzle solving during the proceedings, according to The Sydney Morning Herald:

She said four or five jurors had brought in the sudoku sheets and photocopied them to play during the trial and then compare their results during meal breaks.

She admitted to having spent more than half of her time in court playing the game.

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/06/10/game-over-sudoku-spoils-a-trial-in-australia/index.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

2008-06-10T12:01:00.000-05:00

2008-06-06T11:30:00.000-05:00

Good grief

2008-06-06T10:07:00.002-05:00

A Gym Designed to Cater to Christians

By KATIE ZEZIMA

The Lord’s Gym in Clermont, Fla., offers classes including “Yogod,” its take on yoga, and “Chariots of Fire,” a spinning class.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/06/us/06gym.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

Unemployment takes new form

2008-06-03T17:19:00.001-05:00

Click it. It'll get big.

I've got a pulse

2008-05-29T14:50:00.004-05:00

Holy moly (moley?, mo-lee?, moe-leigh?, mow-lea?), it's been a while. I know because when I logged in to my bloglines page, I had more than 600 new feeds. Yikes. I write to you as I'm sitting in a traffic jam on the freeway to career-land. Maybe it's a tollway. Whatever.
The whole Editor-In-Chief thing is good, but it pays surprisingly little. So I'm on the job hunt. And why not invite all you Blahglievers along?
So if any of you have connections in the Higher Education game nationwide, give me a shout. I'm looking at everything from student affairs to institutional research. My M.Ed. is in Higher Ed with a specialization in cheap labor. Hope that helps.

Skydiving into Traffic: A QWERTY Conversation

2008-05-09T10:06:00.000-05:00

joseph.halbert: i'm jumping out of a plane in few hoursme: is your head shaved for maximum aerodynamic factor?

joseph.halbert: yes

me: you're destined for success

you going with anyone?

joseph.halbert: it's a bachelor party weekend so me and the bachelor

from the wedding not from the tv show

me: did you pass that final you didn't study for?

joseph.halbert: probably

they take like 6 weeks to give us grades

me: 6 weeks of freedom

joseph.halbert: haha yeah

i just got hit by the dump truck gtg

2008-04-29T08:49:00.002-05:00

Current Listening
Amos Lee
by Amos Lee
and
The Sound of White
by Missy Higgins

Cowboys?

2008-04-25T08:20:00.003-05:00

In light of Pacman Jones coming to Dallas, my roommate Trey and I, while hooping yesterday, wondered what if the 'Boys had gotten Chad Johnson too? Risky characters and criminals would be abounding in Big D, led by the Johnson brothers Chad and Tank. Add T.O. and Pacman and you've got a great new club, "Cell Block D."

Here's to doing what it takes to win.

Whoa

2008-04-23T10:09:00.001-05:00

Ok I realize I'm behind the times, but how nuts are these things?!

It's all sum-antic

2008-04-22T10:14:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've said the word "ambulance" in 6 months. I just used it in conversation and I botched it. My old ways of thinking took over and I said something that sounded like "am-blee-ence." Crap. This isn't the first word I've slaughtered. I still have to pause in conversation before I say "certificate" or it comes out "cer-tick-a-fit" every time.
It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one. My buddy Jig says "ver-ner-bull." It's "vulnerable", Jig. "Vulnerable."

Taking over

2008-04-22T08:43:00.001-05:00

Congratulations to Brent, father of the Blahg's Editor-in-Chief, for his recent victory in ACU's first ever SpringBoard Ideas Challenge. Contestants in two categories (faculty and student) submitted business ideas for a $30,000 purse.

Brent Reeves and co-worker Ian Shepard took the gold with their entry. My dad tried explaining his idea to me. As I gather, they proposed something very similar to this:

Current Reading
Redeeming Love
by Francine Rivers

Warning: Gross and Immature: a QWERTY Conversation

2008-04-18T11:59:00.000-05:00

bmaenius: see ya tomorrow

me: yeah just wait for me

bmaenius: ill be on the corner

pick me up

me: i'll be driving an ice cream truck

bmaenius: i love icecream

me: how many times have you gone #2 today

bmaenius: not once

but ask me how many times yesterday

me: how many

bmaenius: 4

me: you realize you're an elite poo athlete, right?

bmaenius: i am in training

i am not elite yet, intermediate.

me: do you have any competitors?

bmaenius: krista

i hear she can poop a mean poop

me: the great poopoff 2008. 2 maeniuses, 2 anuses, 1 winner

Make it Chain

2008-04-16T10:00:00.002-05:00

Even in the ghetto there are social classes. I know because I've recently moved up. I, and my roommates, used to be members of the boondock ghetto. We were bottom-feeders. We performed our task, but nobody noticed. Nobody respected. We needed street cred. Bad. Yesterday we reached the tipping point. We rose above. Now we're visible. We're respectable. We're members of the chain gang. Still a ghetto social class, but now people reconize' yo. Let me show you what I mean.

Where we used to make it rain,

Now we make it chain

Current Listening

2008-04-15T08:28:00.000-05:00

This kid's beats are hot. Click here to test to his tracks.

Beats to Pillage and Conquer by
by Rob the Viking

For the Ladies

2008-04-11T10:01:00.004-05:00

This post is for any female Blahglievers (...so, mom), or any of my high school friends out there whose prisons allow them web access.

Remember that sewer-rat of a dog we had back in Boulder? Willow Dane Reeves? (Sidenote. I love my brother Josh, who came up with that name. In fact he's my tallest brother. But if there's a name that will basically turn a dog gay, it's "Willow Dane") Remember how we thought he was a mix between a mop and a tumbleweed? It's taken 7 years, but I figured out half of his genetics. He was mostly Bichon Havanese. Have a look:

Now a true Havanese (above) is in the toy group, which Will wasn't. But if Will had a pygmy brother, wouldn't it look just like that?!

Transition

My brother the Sing Song Host helped organize a 68 hour volleyball game this weekend to raise funds for OIF. If you're in Abilene, stop by Moody Colosseum any time to see some action. The game starts today (Friday, April 11) and ends Monday at 11:00am, where Ben will lead singing in Chapel. Bring your camera and a nose plug as Moody will probably smell horrible after 60 guys spend 68 hours inside.

Adios.

Dress how you drive

2008-04-09T09:24:00.006-05:00

As I'm zombie-standing at the copy machine a minute ago, 3/4 of the way to mental Neverland, I catch a glimpse of my attire...Grey khakis, olive/green/brown polo, earth shoes, brown leather belt, black fleece vest...what if I were a car?...holy crap I'm a '70s Land Rover...not even a restored one. I may sit under a car port at night, but I live on the savanna. I have detachable doors and a soft roof. Recently in a fender-bender. Here's me in automotive form:

And in reality:I realize it's a rough comparison. Go with it. I really thought I was on to something earlier.

2008-04-07T10:42:00.006-05:00

Back from a great weekend. Crap's beginning to hit the fan at the close of the semester, so don't be surprised if I publish more than regularly in the coming weeks.
As usual, Jig invented a terrific game for us to play this weekend. I call it Tyrannomopoly. 4 combatants, 1 ball, 1 bucket, 2 converging slip-n-slides, 14 bruises on my two knees. Here's a bit of photo evidence:

Current Listening
Veneer
by Jose Gonzalez

Blessings.

2008-04-03T12:00:00.002-05:00

Blahglievers, I'm off for a Ninja weekend at Okalla, TX. Watch this:

Have you ever...

2008-03-31T08:21:00.003-05:00

...been riding your bike in the middle of a crack and prostitute neighborhood* with 5 other college students and gotten pulled over by a cop last night? I wish he would have given me a sobriety test; would have made for a better story.

Current Reading
Fancies Versus Fads
by G.K. Chesterton

* cop's words, not mine

The Bermuda Pull Up Bar

2008-03-27T10:07:00.002-05:00

True or False:
1. The Bermuda Triangle is portable.
2. An event horizon can be stepped through.
3. Laws of gravity and friction can cease to exist in a given space provided that said space contains the conditions of questions 1 and 2.

Answers:
1. True.
2. True.
3. Been there. True.

Imagine a place where friction isn't welcome, regular laws of gravity are broken, and most of your dreams come true. I live in that place.

The pull up bar in the doorway. That's the place. Hang and swing, I dare you. The apex of your swing will NEVER CHANGE. Don't pump your body at all; if you can hold on, you will swing forever. An uncountably large number of people have tested it a limitless number of times. Confirmed every time. I submit to you what I submitted to Science Magazine: empirical proof. You be the judge.

Life's better with music

2008-03-26T11:54:00.001-05:00

That's what I've been living lately. Music in the morning, music all day at work, music in the evening. I've set up a menu for a day. Spoiler Alert: explicit language ahead.

When it's morning and you want to do some thinking and reading: George Winston's Autumn Album

When you're at work on a computer and you just want to fly: In Rainbows by Radiohead

or Hopes and Fears by Keane

or Our Love to Admire by Interpol

When you get back to the house and it's time to rip, you don't want entire albums. You want select songs:

Buck in Here by DJ Felli Fell

Hustlin' by Rick Ross

If you try this for a day and you wind up soaring in the stratosphere, you're welcome.

A dream about Biblical inaccuracy

2008-03-25T08:56:00.000-05:00

Sure there was a skirmish, but wouldn't the song be more accurate if it went, "Joshua went to a concert at Jericho, Jericho, Jericho..." I know you've thought the same thing.

Current Reading
The Manga Bible

Current Listening
Origin of Symmetry
by Muse

Miracle Monday

2008-03-24T11:26:00.000-05:00

It was a miracle and I just saw it.

A while ago I was a primary witness to a first degree crappy parker.

Just a second ago, as I was walking across campus, another poor parker pulled up to THE SAME PARKING SPOT. I slowed my pace nearly to a stop to count 12 ATTEMPTS, including one stall out and restart. I salute you, 1994esque Ford Ranger, for putting up with this yahoo driver of yours.

Weaksauce Spring Break

2008-03-24T08:37:00.009-05:00

Along with the Winegeart family and the Adams family (patriarch of which is Duane Adams, formerly of Acappella), the Reeves family trekked up to Colorado last week. As always, click each image for a larger view.

Below is the scene we had to endure each morning:

Sunset over the hill behind the cabin:

Brother Micah doing some backyard-hill skiing:

Happy Spring Break

2008-03-14T08:30:00.000-05:00

The Reeves family (minus Josh) is packing up tomorrow and heading for Colorado. We'll be staying in a cave and I doubt it'll have wifi, so I'll catch up with you Blahglievers in a week. In the meantime, take the Awareness Test.

Let us Lament

2008-03-13T09:30:00.000-05:00

I blame the workplace.

The other day at work I'm listening to Pandora Radio. If you're unfamiliar with this site, it compiles and plays music similar to the artist or song or genre you select. All for free.

I'm working in another tab when this new song begins to play. Unapologetically poppy and rhythmic. It's playing softly in the background and then the chorus hits. What's this?...It's kind of good...Yeah, I dig this.

I'm subtly bobbing and weaving to the beat in my chair as I'm editing a web page. That chorus hits again. Yeah baby. I've got to check what song this is.

Then it happened. I switched tabs. 20,000 volts of regret jolted through me. Oh crap! I like Bo Bice!

Capitan's log

2008-03-10T10:25:00.000-05:00

Stardate 03.07.08 Friday
4:30pm Leave Abilene. Destination- Austin
4:35pm Restroom stop
5:00pm Gordan predicts arrival time of 7:55
7:55pm Arrival
8:00pm Seated at Chuy's
8:02pm Order food and meet our grumpy, dazed waitress
8:03pm Waitress walks away. I comment on the crappiness of our waitress, then realize her exceptional hearing ability
10:30pm 10,000 B.C.= Top ten worst films of all time
1:30am Sleep

Stardate 03.08.08 Saturday
7:00am Rise
7:45am McDonald's Drive-through
7:47am Regret McDonald's decision
7:50am Arrive at Frank Erwin Center
7:55am Do some business with a scalper
8:30am-12:00pm Go 3 for 3 in my predictions of the 1A, 2A, and 3A Championship games.
12:30pm Lunch with Bo and Marie at some garbage burger joint
2:00pm-6:30pm Predict 4A and 5A games for a combined record of 5 - 0
6:45pm-7:45pm Nap
8:00pm Rainbow Trout with a subtle Cajun sauce, rice and steamed broccoli
9:30pm Sadly watch Duke game
10:30 "Earth Quake" from Amy's Ice Cream
10:31 Regret Earth Quake
11:30 Coma

Scouting Report: Willie Warren; 6'4" guard from Dallas North Crowley. He put up 29 in the Championship game (19 in the second half). In the Regional Championship game a few weeks ago, he put up 47 and only played 3 quarters. Watch for him next year at OU.

ATX

2008-03-07T10:51:00.001-05:00

Austin this weekend for the Texas State High School Basketball Tournament with Zach Allen and Jordan Gay. Yes his last name really is Allen. Maybe I'll try to take some photos. Have a good weekend Blahglievers.

1 Unheard Message sent Monday March 3rd at 8:45am

2008-03-05T10:16:00.007-05:00

"Hi Luke this is Jenine Richardson again from the University of Phoenix. I've been trying to reach you now for several months and the reason why I'm still trying to reach you is because I haven't received a call back, but you do still have a file open with us because at one time you were interested in possibly getting into a masters program. Luke I know at this point you may have gone another direction you may not want this degree anymore, and I am in no way trying to bug you but because you do still have a file open I'm not really sure where you stand at this point so if you could please give me a quick call back when you get this message I would really appreciate it. If you have gone another direction or no longer want this I can update your file for you that way you're not getting voice mails or emails for something you don't want to do. However if you do have any interest in still getting a degree or looking into what a masters degree could provide for you I can help you there as well. You can reach me toll free at 1-800-366-9699 my extension is 73461. You can also reach me directly at 602-387-3461. Luke I'm really looking forward to speaking with you I hope you're having a great day and I will talk to you soon. Thanks."

And1 in Abilene

2008-03-04T10:01:00.000-05:00

Yesterday the And1 Mix Tape Tour stopped in Abilene when their tour bus blew a radiator hose. Highlights include dressing up as a photographer (complete with faux press pass) so I could bypass the 300 person line and stand on the gym floor where a normal person wouldn't be allowed. I guess confidence passes as an event ticket these days.

The And1 team, complete with Philip Champion (Hot Sauce), Dennis Chisolm (Spyda), and Taurian Fontenette (The Air Up There), played the "Abilene All Stars." These so called all stars...weren't. It was a blast.

I snapped about 300 pics. Here's a quick taste. Click on each image for large view.

Below- "Hot Sauce" freezes the Abilene All Star

And freezes another

Takeoff

I wonder if he thinks he's posing for the newspaper...

"The Air Up There" flying

Abilene All Star getting clowned (the And1 player just dribbled the ball through Abilene's legs)

"The Air Up There" flying again. Notice the ratio in the frame: all 5 defenders and 0 other And1 players

Hot Sauce ices another victim

"Hot Sauce" loves to embarrass people

"Hot Sauce" dishes the ball off some poor sucker's dome

Thanks for tuning in Blahglievers.

Food, Festivals, and Freedom: A QWERTY Conversation

2008-02-29T10:28:00.001-05:00

joseph.halbert: my german prof bought us breakfast this is phenomenal

muffins, cheese, cookies, orange juice

me: was this penance for that time he brought a bow and arrow to class to bring down the family of bats in the rafters and accidentally tagged one of the students?

joseph.halbert: i think so bc he's wearing a t-shirt that says "bats are whack" in fake airbrush font

me: from the caricature stand at the fair?

joseph.halbert: either the fair or fiesta, tx

me: you ever go to the fair in abilene?

joseph.halbert: no i go in austin sometimes tho

how is the key city fair?

me: like a piece of food stuck in a mullet mated with a blind bowl of cabbagejoseph.halbert: i saw movie like that once. i'm not proud of it

me:did you need a parent permission slip signed?

joseph.halbert: no i was 18 but still in hs

me: 18 in hs is like being a freed slave still living on the plantation

joseph.halbert: hahaha

Watch and Laugh

2008-02-28T11:06:00.001-05:00

Happy Thursday Blahglievers

ACU's New Mascot

2008-02-26T08:25:00.000-05:00

A bit of exciting news was just announced here in Abilene- All incoming freshmen will receive an iPhone. Story here. "Re-enroll" on three.

Current Reading
All Is Grist
by GK Chesterton

Melanin: The Mark of a Champion

2008-02-25T08:56:00.000-05:00

I took my first sunburned shower of 2008. Remember how awesome those are?

My roommate Trey Watten represented ACU Baseball pitching a complete game yesterday with 11 K's against 10th ranked Central Oklahoma. The weather was too nice to go inside after that, and although I could have put sunscreen on, I decided to wait until dark so as not to miss a single moment of daylight.

Current Listening
The Inside
by Moses Mayfield

Lunar Eclipse

2008-02-21T08:50:00.004-05:00

Taken last night (2.20.08). Click image for larger view. It's a bit fuzzy, because the best my current equipment can do is 210mm, and no Image Stabilization. IS is a must have on the next lens.

Current Reading
Ninety-Three
by Victor Hugo

Later Days Latter Days

2008-02-20T09:39:00.001-05:00

The Latter Day Saints are fighting an uphill battle if they want me on their team.

Yesterday I'm outside my front door getting on my bike to ride to campus. On the lawn, rolling down the slight incline toward the street. Looking down, settling my feet on the peddles.

Quick movement in my peripheral, at my 2 o'clock.
Loud shout!
Glance up in shock.
Endo through the bushes, down the incline, into the street. Legs and arms tangled in bike.
Shock.
Disbelief.
Lying on back.
3 fellas in suits running toward me.

"I'm so sorry sir!! We saw you riding there and were just gonna hollar to scare you!! Are you ok?!"

Silence.
Disbelief.

"Sir, are you ok? I'm really sorry!! We didn't mean to send you head-over-heels into the street!! Oh man I'm so sorry!!"

We all look down to my ankle and see this:

Instead of telling me about a Savior who bled for me, These 3 Latter Day Saints made me bleed. I don't want to be on your team Elder David, or Elder Mark, or Elder too shy to pronounce your name in an audible way. Sheesh.

Lufkin: The Texan Bermuda Triangle: A Qwerty Conversation

2008-02-19T08:55:00.000-05:00

joseph.halbert: how does one wrestle a hurricane

me: with a dream and a bull whip

joseph.halbert: that is hardcoreme: almost as hardcore as this article review i'm writing

joseph.halbert: for class?

me: yeah. about patent infringement litigation regarding classroom management softwarejoseph.halbert: cool is it 9th circuit

me: its in lufkin...so...who knows

joseph.halbert: they are no computers in lufkin

there is one pac-man machine in a pizza hut

me: and one patron, shane spencer

joseph.halbert: my computer just lost its mind

me: are you in lufkin?

Benjammin'

2008-02-18T11:05:00.007-05:00

Good weekend. George Winston's show on Friday was a dream come true; a beautiful piano, guitar, and harmonica filled dream come true. It was like God took a dozen sleepy puppies and dipped them in clouds, then put them in your lap next to a cozy fireplace and wrapped you in a cashmere blanket then handed you a suitcase filled with large, non-sequential bills and tossed you the keys to his Winnebago. It was that good.

In family news, Ben rocked Sing Song. The Blu Ray is expected to go platinum. Highlights include head-to-toe denim with a dinner plate sized belt buckle.

I'll upload more pics soon. Have a good one Blahglievers