Take your ha'penny and shov... wait, that's mine!

At the water-cooler today, I overheard rumors that the half-cent sales tax was retracted, that the people have stood up on their wooden pulpits and shaken their angry fists at the aether enough so that all others have been persuaded (or cowed) into agreeing.

I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but not for the reason you may think. I am an advocate of school funding, especially funding that will better the environments that my, and your, children will be working in, and this 1/2 sales tax could provide 18 million dollars per year to the schools! That the schools will no longer have that funding is a disappointment, everything else -- well, let's see:

If any of you have look around at where the money from the last 9 years has been spent you will see that it is not fairly distributed. My daughter is in a classroom that has plastic tarps strung from the ceiling like slides to funnel water into a garbage can. Other schools have cities of portable buildings. While other schools get new classrooms, gymnasiums, and top of the line weight rooms.

While I don't doubt that some of the money has been spent wisely, it is quite obvious that a majority of it has not been. When deciding where to spend money on schools you should look at needs first, wants second. Sure we want our children to be lifting weights, at least more than we want them in safe and clean classrooms (*cough*bullshit*cough*) but let's think about what we need.

On top of that there are bigger issues that we are not going to resolve by shuffling money away behind the registers to pay for funding that the county should be paying for! Did you know that Florida ranks 40th in the whole united states for education funding? Did you also know that the top-10 ranked schools in regards to education are also the top 10 for funding? Hmmm.. strange correlation there, I'm shocked and surpised

Of course, we aren't speaking about the state budget for education, we are talking about the county budget. They are the ones trying to tax us to fund the schools, right? A brief peek into the county budget shows that our expenditures have raised $43,718,274 from FY04-05 to FY06-07, nothing wrong with that either? Well -- considering that our "Reserves" account for the largest portion of our budgetary expenditures at a whopping $58,740,258 -- of which $20,335,315 is accounted for in non-operating expenses and refunds.

That leaves a large healthy reserve, which is being spent on who knows what, and also if one looks at our budget we see massive changes across the board in the last few years (since FY04-05) which have led to a more than 31% increase in our budgetary expenses in total, not just the massive raise in the General fund --- why should we shoulder another tax burden to support our ever-bloating bureaucracy? Our county has not expanded by an amount that warrants a 31% increase!!

I'm sure that somewhere we could find the ability to trim the fat and supply adequate funding to our schools, even though our state has completely failed us. Until I start seeing the county pushing to keep the expenditures moderated I will continue to check [NO] on any sales tax increases. Sorry.

Chunk A Deuce

Alright, you know you've seen them, hell you probably are one, those people with the pictures on MySpace showing themselves all "pimped out" in their clothes or drunk at a party throwing up a sideways peace sign.

So what's wrong with that, you say? I'm sure nothing, but since I like to gripe about everything I'm going to add that to my list of petty fucking annoyances and explain why:

1) It's called chunking a deuce:

Obviously it's a ghetto related term, but come on. It sounds like taking a shit. "Ugh.. I knew I shouldn't have eaten so much, I just chunked a massive deuce in your toilet." In fact, deuce, while another word for two, is a word for a shit log.

2) It's not a fucking peace sign:

People believe this is a way of saying "Peace", or "Wuz up homey", when in actuality it's a bit far from it. In fact, it is a pretty well known (well, outside the boundaries of the US -- did you know there was more than the US?) way of saying "FUCK YOU".

Great, now we don't know whether it's sarcasm when you caption your picture "To mah homiez" and show a "FUCK YOU" sign... guess you ain't "down with tha set"

3) You don't look cool:

No, really... you don't. As a matter of fact, whenever most of the people I know see these images they roll their eyes. Even the same people who do it in their own pictures. Do you know why they roll their eyes? Because, bud, that sign makes you look like a mentally incompetent asshat. It's true.

I hope you understand, and please -- next time you try to "chunk a deuce" on camera, either be on a toilet or try to bite your ear at the same time for full effect.

Come to the Darkside, but no.. go away...

Please note: Don't take this too extremely seriously, I was in the mood to type a little bit and, that being said, some of this (for example, tone and seriousness) may be slightly exaggerated for no reason.

The haze slowly lifts from around me as the full reality of the situation slaps me like a red-headed step child with one hand in the cookie jar. I've been amazingly bored for a few weeks now, not just a small amount of bored -- really, utterly (almost said udderly), truly, amazingly bored.

Not only that, but the brief interludes that break up the monotony of my boredom have become nothing more than brief, episodic, flashes of memory that seem to be over quicker than they began. Though I have no doubt they are quite enjoyable whilst occuring, I wonder if there isn't more I could fill my time with.

Unlike the days they occur in, which also seem to be over quicker than they began, these episodes don't seem to last forever while happening. Unfortunately for me (or do I really mean fortunately? I sometimes can't tell), there is both a conflict with this boredom, and an obvious cause of.

You see, I've been in relationships for quite some time -- almost filling the entire span of life from when I was 16(ish, if you count those as relationships) until about 1 year ago. It may be lacking proof, but I would rest my case that the one thing that I seem to be lacking is companionship.

What's more though, is that while I enjoy companionship, I am kind of picky about whom I befriend, and increasingly moreso about whom I like. I mean: Nice, smart, funny, non-psycho; Not very hard requirements to fulfill, are they? Yes. Obviously.

I also find myself very particular about the people interrupting my spare time. Somebody tell me how the hell this one is supposed to work out... How do I find someone to spend my monotonous time with if I relegate them to the small windows between the brief, episodic, flashes of non-monotony?

Ok, so it's not as bad off as I present it: I just find myself in situations where people calling me is slightly annoying, and this usually occurs when I plan my non-boring activities (while trying not to fall asleep finishing my work during the day) then get home and attempt said activities only to be pestered into Oblivion (note the case, yes, Oblivion).

Strangely enough, the pestering (as I call it then) is actually something I'm also, and ironically, annoyed about when it's not occurring and I'm no longer busy. Hey Catch-22, that's a good trick you played on me, how about getting lost?!

It's not always the case as above, there are some times, in fact it's quite often, when I will cease my activities to speak to someone, but I am unsure what the particular requirements for the "You are annoying" button really are, sometimes it's people that I actually want to talk to who annoy me the most.

So what is the solution to the aforementioned situation? Quite easy, I can watch as the years swing by non-stop, causing the skin on my face to wrinkle as gravity takes hold. I mean, honestly speaking, is there truly any other alternative? The way things are now might be cured by getting into the relationship of my dreams and having someone to share precious moments (and, of course, allow me my "me-time") with, but usually searching something like that out is negative to the outcome.

Which leads us back to the original solution, just let it go, let life continue and live it. Do the activities you like to do and throw a few more things in just for good measure, the situation may change, it may not, but the truth is -- Life is exactly what you want it to be, and I think, regardless of my complaints, I kind of like my life in all its various formats, this one not excluded. Doesn't mean I won't be glad to kick this format to the curb though! :)

-Kevin

The troops are under fire.

The troops.. the troops.. the troops are under fire.

A recent bulletin came across complaining that the soldiers should be grieved as much as the VT students, I left that alone -- It is fallacious rhetoric and doesn't deserve the scrutiny it received thus far. The person who reposted it added her own opinion to the matter. I will respond -- her quotes are indented quasi-APA style.

"Also, it says clearly that our army is Volunteer. The people who are in Iraq fighting and unfortunatley dying, kne wthat was an option when they signed up....."

That is not the point.

They knew dying was an option when they signed up, but volunteering in the army doesn't just heave expectations onto the soldier... it also leaves the army and our leadership under certain expectations. Read further.

"Fact: Dying in a volunteer army is something you can expect, dying at school is something you shoudn't have to worry about."

This is a very true point, though it fails under scrutiny. The fact that expectation somehow changes the balance of how one should grieve. There is a large expectation of dying while driving, yet we feel for vehicular tragedies. The same can be said of crossing the road, swimming in the ocean, everything we do is voluntary unless we are being forced.

Also, when you join the army you place your life in the hands of others, you rightfully expect that those others will perform their job as they are supposed to. Why should you not?

Even though they volunteer they expect that their government will make the right choices concerning how they are "expended". This means making proper strategic decisions.. People do not join the army to be led by Goofy and Donald, they volunteer under the assumption that their leadership is capable.

One cannot argue the fallacy of this war, the conclusion of such an argument is inevitable -- we've made a complete ass of ourselves and are now struggling to justify our positions both strategically and morally. There is no strategic goal! How do you play a game of chess without knowing what the ultimate goal is?

When you make sweeping statements about how the war plans have been a large mistake, as the administration (Bush included) have, then you admit that that you were incompetent and people died for it.

Having said that: Many people who volunteered for this volunteer army did so under false pretenses. I was one such person and I served for 6 years, and also served in Iraq. I did what I volunteered to do, but the military lost a good soldier due to incompetence, and is even now fatally losing them due to incompetence.

That is the point.

Drunken Imbecile - Part I

As time crawls on tonight, I realize the ever-increasing futility of attempting to display even a slight modicum of intelligence in what I do. My mind snapping fitfully in and out of consciousness I act almost on auto-pilot, my fingers incessantly tapping at the backspace key to remove my alcohol induced typographical errors. The haze of the drunken stupor interweaving beautifully with the almost physical touch of the electric glow of my flat-screen display.

Tonight, different from every other Friday night slumped over my keyboard like a troll, I can actually make sense of the garbage spewing from the recesses of my mind and pasting itself on my screen. More than likely the hodge-podge of illogical thoughts won't make sense to any others, but at least it is a start.

You see, I've started writing what will be the notice of my final decline into oblivion. My last will and testament, or what I have aptly named 'The rambling insanities of a drunken imbecile'. Even now in my last days, or even hours, I find my sadism absurdly comforting as my deft penstroke executes the futures, and livelihoods, of the leeches I call family.

My glass of whiskey half-empty, the bottle even moreso, I feel a clarity much deeper than any that has touched my mind in countless years. True, borrowed time doesn't fully sum up the seriousness of my situation, but it is the aforementioned clarity and, of course, the thought of my last words effecting generations to come, that keeps me enlarging my debt to the reaper.

Time consuming as it may be, I have decided that the task necessitates I create a list of those individuals that need be addressed specifically, and in what order. You see, as I envision the reading I squirm with glee at the images of the least patient of those lamprey growing fervent with expectation, bursting at the seams to hear what fortune my misery shall bring to them. Of those which leap to mind, the one that stands out the most is my "charming "brother Ned.

Ned. As if his gafish nature wasn't enough, his lack of mental acuity was obvious in his thoughts that Ned was a perfectably acceptable short name for Edward. Quite as ludicrous a choice as "Ass" one could say, so henceforth the nescient lout shall be regarded as such.

My first recollections of Ass set the stage for what would be, invariably, a slow and torturous childhood... in the beginning for myself, but in the later days, as I realized the extent of my skills and how they surpassed those of my oaf of a brother, the object of torture was Ass himself. His inability to realize the exact cause of his misfortune still brings joy to my failing heart, and for some reason causes me to mention that my mental representation of Ass has been distorted over the years so that now I view him as an ape-like being incapable of much more than enunciated grunting.

The truth of such an image is not entirely irrelevant, and I am entirely positive that as my twisted literary opus wends onward that you will begin to agree... now, where was I...? Oh right, my first childhood memory of Ass...