Hurricane Katrina

Remember what happened a year ago today.

Remember the plight of the thousands of victims; the agony of watching New Orleanians watch their family members perish in front of their eyes. Remember the failure of FEMA, Mayor Nagin and President Bush; promises made, but never realized. I remember the tears I wept, blurring my vision, momentarily halting my daily walk through the park; the pain was just too great.

Remember the overwhelming aid given at the time and remember that you can still help.

But, most importantly, remember the deep sorrow America as a whole felt on that gloomy day one year ago. Because if we forget, then the hurricanes win.

The Library and Chai

Yesterday was a most precious day.

My bi-cycle is still in disrepair, so I walked to the downtown library, poured some of my homemade chai tea out of my thermos and into my handmade ceramic mug, and found my usual 3rd floor seat; residing near the literature section and overlooking the indescribable beauty that is Minneapolis.

As I took my first sip, I focused my attention to each and every tastebud, as the balmy aqueous beverage flowed across my tongue; bringing about memories of friends long past and stories once told. Every gulp washing the rushing waters across my palate, splashing against my cheeks and, suddenly, disappearing forever down the gullet of the muse. I had never felt as in tune with the Mississippi river as I did then.

Next, I let the sun wash over me; though, through the human erected, and beaurocratically approved window. Its' rays still invigorated my soul and renewed my lust for life. The hushed murmur of the fellow bibliophiles that frequent this urbane sanctuary of the enlightened also brought me solice. I knew I was no longer alone.

In todays modern world, where the rickshaw is out of fashion, and automobile racing is a national "sport," a humble sophisticate such as myself can feel marooned in a time period where idiocy is cool. Well, when surrounded by the likes of Voltaire, Sartre, and Tolstoy, one tends to realize he is in proper company.

Masterful Prose

This is a very brief excerpt from my soon to be published manuscript, Sacrilege by Trumpet: If Only Once.

Chapter IIVXM - Bring Forth the Lampris

The wife of the thespian wept. The performance was beautiful, orange balloons billowed from the ceiling, all was restored for the carniverous crowd. All but, the indignity of the fallen valkrie.

"Why?" shouted a forlorn man, shirt torn from the stiff bristle, "the malignant disgrace us, the scorned swallow us whole." Another fellow, beseeched by the poignant words uttered by his transexual lover, fell to the floor (gin would be poured upon him in the coming days).

The thespian jumped, sword in hand, toward the pastuerized uprising. The contrite ran, their lurid echoes would ring for centuries. But, the rancor of the rakish remnants would bring about the duel that the dead did tell of.

"Gargoyles fell upon the rigid tales of Sire Herfrim; lacquer dripped beneath the dull dents of past lips, but circlular salvation does not find solice in this magnanimous edifice; constructed by those that consume not what they waste." These words halted all action. They spewed from the only sage to hearken the prolific matter that stood at hand.

The ribaldry would be spouted no longer; the forsaken would perish.

To: Evil Discussor

In response to Dear Evil Discussor... Why is my boss a douchebag?


Dear Sir or Madam,

In what manner was this post supposed to be humorous, enlightening, or an interesting read? It appeared to be nothing more than an infantile regurgitation of a most unpleasant word, which I refuse to type; and a nonsensical word, dingbat; repeated adnauseum simply because they "sound cool together."

Your post may come across as intelligent commentary to the television watching drolls that frequent your blog, but to the true intelligencia it reads as a futile attempt at comedy; which you, more than likely, plagarized from According to Jim or some other television "sitcom" that is dumbing down the american consciousness.

I suggest you abdicate your blog immediately and focus your energies on getting an education, as it is apparent you will never achieve notoriety from your writing. This will enable you to find a job that doesn't involve tossing pink sawdust on a 3rd grader's expelled food.

Good day,
Douglas Sinclair
P.S. Change your name to Bromidic Discusser; it seems to be more apropos.

The Reason

This is a perfect example, among millions, of why I refuse to own, watch, or acknowledge television as a serious form of entertainment:



With childrens programming that is as painfully moronic as this, I can't imagine why todays youth are proving to be the first generation less intelligent than the previous.