not dead yet
Four hours of sleep, six pages of rant, a foot of cowry fall, three cranky customers, and a baked potato later, and I . . . want a nap.


I sometimes wish other people didn't annoy me so.


It's the damndest thing. Sometimes they make you worry--about the kids that are being raised, the adults with their entitlement complexes, the possibility that we're creating a culture of future victims with the popular twisted ideals while we attack those that may mean well for potentially offending someone's delicate sensibilities, and the lack of willingness of so many people to think for themselves. Then you sit and listen to a group of young religious guys who talk openly about reading both anti- and pro-religious books; guys who don't fear ideas, who don't find them threats to their faith, but who try to understand them. Then you watch a group of unsupervised young children, none any more than seven years old, flip through the classic The Giving Tree and talk about how "It's a good book, except for how the tree dies at the end." And you start to wonder if things might be okay after all.