caveat emptor

The Mountain and the Fire

There are many paths to the fire around which we sit, telling everything we've seen, everything we've learned. Life starts at the top of the mountain and plummets downward, rough and tumble. If you can resist the urge to turn and climb up again you may not die scrambling in futility on the craggy cliffs. If you can turn and find a path through the wilderness you will arrive, at length, at the fire. Here all are welcome, bewildered and suspicious to have apparently arrived. Some wander away, looking for the mountain again, straining to see it in the dusky distance.

When you die we throw you into the fire to keep it going, a sacrifice to the wilderness of life. Some say the smoke of you goes back to the top of the mountain. I don't know. Maybe it does, but mostly everyone burns bright, light and warmth for the circle.

When I'm gone throw me in. If I find my way back to the mountain I'll hurry back. I'll try with all my strength to remember all that happened, to remember being here, and to come back and tell you the truth at last.

In the beginning there is a mountain hard, cold at the top. At the bottom there is a wilderness wild laced and woven with more paths than you can count. At the end of every path is the fire. Come. Sit. Tell us where you've been.

Hello, friends.

Love.

Mumblings on Love and Hate

There is a love/hate relationship, a turmoil of feelings, between a person and the past. Like everything else, you inherit your social standing—your place in society—from your parents. Some people can embrace what they were raised to be. Some people can comfortably stay where they are. Forget about them. This is not about them. This is about people who cannot separate themselves quickly enough from what they were. This is for people with deep and impractical insecurities about anything that might connect them with their past. I am this sort of person, but I try not to be. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the things that make me cringe most are those things with which I don't care to be associated, more specifically, those things with which I feel I might be associated.

It's funny, though, how quickly I become incensed and defensive when someone from the outside levels criticisms against or mocks people I consider my people. Hate without love, I think, is what's wrong. Unless you have the love, the hate is ugly. When you have the love, when you can understand, when you've been there, your hate means something. The hate can be tragically beautiful.

One vivid picture I have of Louisiana—from the time I spent there—is the species of large tree with great tangles of exposed roots. I'm not sure what sort of tree that was, but I always thought it was lovely and brave. I could never show my roots so openly and proudly as that.

Hello, friends. I hope your year is ending well. Tell me how you're doing.

Love.

An Update

My family, like a lot of families around the world, celebrates Christmas. I say this because I don't want to be one of those people who behave as though their traditions and world-views are universal. I hope this impresses you. If this doesn't impress you, I've wasted my time and might as well have been one of those people. Back to my point...

Our Christmas this year was really good, I think. I've been on holiday from work since 19 December, and I've been enjoying my time at home. Besides our home Christmas celebration on Christmas morning, we spent Sunday, 23 December at my mother's house. My sister and her family were also there. I showed up hungry and left stuffed. The kids got presents. We brought home a box of homemade fudge, the making of which was a long-time Christmas tradition my mother took over from her mother and has mastered quite thoroughly. On Christmas Eve we went to Susan's mother's house and had a wonderful lasagna dinner with them before exchanging gifts. Holly, my niece, cooked the lasagna and it was perfect. (Holly is the daughter of Katie, Susan's twin sister.) On Christmas Day we traveled down to Hamilton, Texas to see my Dad's side of the family. We had food and participated in the Chinese gift exchange. (I'm not sure why it's called "Chinese.") It was good to see Dad. He's still doing well, having been out of prison and off drugs for more than two years now. He seems content and settled for the first time in his life. He has his own little camper that he bought and fixed up and has a lot for it in a very small RV park just off the Hamilton town square. Living in it is something between domestication and camping, which suits him perfectly.

Yesterday, 26 December, was River's 16th birthday. We took him, his girlfriend Jennifer and his cousin Josh (Katie's son) to Laser Quest and dropped them off to play a few games. While they were playing Susan and I took Robyn and Rayn (our two girls) and Teanna (the daughter of Dana, my sister) to see Jerry Seinfeld's Bee Movie cartoon at a dollar theatre near Laser Quest. The movie was actually really good, and the dollar theatre was surprisingly nice also. Yesterday evening we had some family over to the house for a little birthday party. River added to the mass of money he's saving to buy a MIDI workstation (a high-end keyboard) (keyboard as in "electric piano," not a computer keyboard.) He's got about $1300 in the bank for it now, and he and I will go shopping for the workstation some time in the next day or two.

And now I'm here in the coffee shop while everyone sleeps at home typing this update for all of you who are, I know, dying to know what I've been doing. I hope that - whether you celebrate Christmas or something else or nothing at all at this time of year - you have been happy and well. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you've been up to. I'd love to hear from you.

Hello, friends. Happy New Year.

Love.

A Wish for You

May your feet stay warm
May your favorite people be within arm's reach
May other people cook for you while you relax
May your coffee or tea be hot, but not too hot
May you have the time to yourself that you need
May your gifts be appreciated and understood
May your sorrows slip your mind
May you laugh harder than you have for some time
May you discover that someone you know is more fun
  and interesting than you ever realized
May you set off, at least once, for unplanned revelry
  and may it turn out well
May you be reminded of something your heart knows well
  but your head has forgotten long ago
May your every smile be sincere and irrepressible

Hello, friends. Happy holidays.

Love.

Traditional Christmas Canceled. The Management Extends Apologies.

Bad news, everyone: We've decided to cancel the White Family Christmas Hoedown and Jamboree this year. There just isn't enough money to put it on. Here's the even worse news: We can't refund your money if you bought tickets. The money is all gone. Uncle Billy blew it all on scratch-off tickets and egg nog. He can't help it. Egg nog is his favorite nog. He has a problem. Instead of refunds, therefore, we're sending all ticket-holders autographed photos of the White Family posing with a guy dressed like Elvis in front of the "The King House," a local Graceland tribute house. It looks a lot like Graceland. It's smaller, but it's very similar. The Hoedown and Jamboree, however, is definitely canceled. There will be no lights and no dancing. There will be no singing or joke-telling contest. There will be no petting zoo. There will be no pie-eating competition and no Late Night Clog Off. We've canceled the NogFest and the "Who's That Up on the Roof?" archery contest. We'll not be having the Honolulu Holiday Luau or the grass skirt races. We've even called off the "Mangerbread" edible gingerbread Nativity scene competition. Sorry for the inconvenience and disappointment for the hundreds of you who have already made non-refundable travel arrangements. I can understand that you might be angry about this, but just remember this: Whenever you sue a family of entertainers you make the baby Jesus cry. You don't want to make the baby Jesus cry, do you? I didn't think so.

Hello, friends. Happy happy joy joy. How are you?

Love.

Secrets of Cats and Dogs. Truth About Birds.

People don't understand the true nature of the magic of cats. Cats are not sorcerers or conjurers in the traditional, arcane sense. You would never catch a cat casting, chanting, brewing or summoning. The magic of cats is born and expressed in their complete and convincing confidence of imperviousness to and exclusion from the influence of the laws of the universe. If you live as though something so fundamentally contrary to observation is true, the universe will subtly let this slip for as long as it can without losing face. Usually, once you're proven wrong, you're no longer around to notice.

The magic of dogs, on the other hand, is entirely bound up with the material of earth. Dogs participate fully in the world around them, making everything more real and obvious. A dog, unless engaged in play, will always do the obviously right thing. Dogs are masters of togetherness, being more with others than any other of the animals. Also they can fly, but only do so when you are not looking.

Birds have no magic. Food goes in. Poop comes out. That's it. Plus they fly when you're looking. Assholes.

Hello, friends. What is your magic?

Love.

About Music

This weekend I heard an old recording of a disturbing duet. Robert Goulet and Meatloaf were singing the Christmas harassment song It's Cold Outside to each other on an Andy Williams Christmas special. It was awful. Just awful. Meatloaf was all like, "I really can't stay" and Robert Goulet was all like, "Baby, it's cold outside." At one point, about halfway through, Robert Goulet ad-libs, "Come on, baby. No one like cold meatloaf. Let's warm it up." It was just terrible and it gave me nightmares.

I lied. That didn't really happen. I made it up. Sorry about the nightmares you might have as a result. I just paint on the mirror, people.

And now: Song lyrics that make me smile for no particular reason. Feel free to suggest more.

• "When they wake up they will find all their personal belongings have intertwined" Paul Simon, Rene and Georgette Magritte with Their Dog After the War
• "You're so vain. You probably think this song is about you." Carly Simon, You're So Vain
• "They're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone." Billy Joel, Piano Man
• The entire song Light Up My Room, The Barenaked Ladies
• "Her kindness falls like rain. It washes me away. And Anna begins to change my mind." Counting Crows, Anna Begins
• "I can't believe my dilemma is real. I'm competing with the man of steel." Spin Doctors, Jimmy Olsen's Blues
• "Me and my buddies, we are traveling people. We like to go down to restaurant row." Paul Simon, Born at the Right Time
• "All the vampires walking through The Valley move west down Ventura Boulevard." Tom Petty, Free Fallin'
• The entire song Subterranean Homesick Blues, Bob Dylan
• "Daddy was a bank robber, but he never hurt nobody. He just loved to live that way, and he loved to steal your money." Clash, Bank Robber
• "All of the animals agree they're not happy at the zoo, but they preferred to free themselves. They seemed to think they could." The Flaming Lips, Christmas at the Zoo
• "Superman never made any money saving the world from Solomon Grundy, and sometimes I despair. The world will never see another man like him." Crash Test Dummies, The Superman Song
• "You can dress up like a sultan in your onion-head hat" Cake, Comfort Eagle

Hello, friends. Tell me something good.

Love.

Googly Revisited: Yet Another Response to People Who Found Me Through Search Engines

Again, when all else fails...

---

caveat emptor
That's me.

what does caveat emptor mean
Caveat emptor means, "Buy a dictionary, but be careful doing it."

xoxoxo means ???
It means you put the cart before your three oxen. That's backwards. (It also means "Hugs and Kisses.")

stop thinking about boobs
That's just crazy talk.

lovely scrap
I forgot about that one.

words to lead on oh king eternal
Oh, right. Shari's comment. Kinky turtle. Ha!

caveatemptor
Don't crowd me. Give me my space.

friend caveat
True friends need none (with a few notable exceptions.)

110 fahrenheit
To quote Paris Hilton—like I always do—"That's hot."

jesus poops
That's a faith position. You can't prove it.

male female dialogue
Just be yourself, dude.

a scott white
It sounds indefinite, doesn't it?

blackened whitefish
Oh, right. That was a good one. (I was a decent writer once.)

tongue tied and twisted
Just an earthbound misfit, I.

because a sun it's alright
I don't understand this one at all. It's alright.

reality of monkeys
This one was me, looking for that post.

witness protection program site:aswhite.com
Also me. Narcissistic bastard.

eustin
Don't remind me. I never finished that story. Typical.

tamer instructor foto
You don't want to be a lion tamer, dude. You have too low a pH level. The big cats will eat you alive. (Just look how you spell photo if you don't believe me.)

south texas magic mushroom pics
Were I more hip I might get this reference. Sounds trippy.

dumdum tree
Yes, we do grow on trees.

i thhink that its possible ive fallen for you i see the path your eyes fallow down i want to come to
I'm flattered, but I'm taken.

tongue tied and twisted just an earth bound
...misfit, I.

what year was caveat emptor
I'm so last year.

what does the number eleven mean
Wow. Dude. Heavy.

why is a mouse when it's spinning
Because the more it spins the much. (Duh)

aphter
That was fun, though it's so rough I'm embarrassed by it when I read it. I'm way too busy to write that regularly these days. Maybe some day I'll get back into it.

actual dog years
They're complicated.

mr cogito studies his face in the mirror
It's true. I do.

upyri
It means vampire.

write a sentence with the word caveat emptor
Congratulations! You did it! (They're not one word, though. They're technically two words.)

for what it's worth protest song
It's not really a protest song, but she didn't want to hear about it.

im gonna live forever, im never gonna die
If you're still alive I'm afraid I've got bad news for you.

caveat letter
Caveat Emptor is brought to you today by the letters U and I.

kids in tights torrent
Michael Jackson? Is that you?

gigantic sandwiches
Weird post, that one. It's usually found with the search term "gay sandwich." It's often the number one hit on Google for that term, in fact. <brag>

gay sandwich
See? Told you.

attack of the masturbating zombies
Wow. That hits this site? Really? Let's find out why. [...checking...] Ah. Thanks, Sir.

neverwhere review
I did write one of those, didn't I.

emptor
So you like me without caveat?

send me all you huddled masses
Send me your address and they're yours.

plato quotes two ears one mouth
Dana Plato said some weird things.

caveat emptor and similar phrases
There are lots of similar phrases here. There are many phrases here that are alike.

bright orange golf pants
Dude. Don't.

earthbound on shrooms
Stoned Martian fratboys are invading!

weimaraner sitting in a chair
Sounds like the name of a painting. (A dumb painting.)

---

Hello, friends. What are you searching for? Did you find it here?

Love.

Curmudgeon, With Orthogonal Asides

Time was a man could start a fire in his own back yard and nobody complained as long as he was sensible about it. These days everyone gets all tangled up about everything. These days a body can't do as he wants except a dozen people send a cease and desist. I'm not one to get much up into another soul's business, but it occurs to me to wonder how people can see so clearly what their neighbors do what with their heads so far up their own arse. I've a mind to give them a piece of it, but I'm a peaceful man said and done. An so I stand, hose in hand, dousing the effrontery out back, sending up to heaven the smoke of my discontent. Why fuel the fires of impending intervention unwelcome? You can push a person only so far, however. It's a thing to keep in mind. Only so far and no further.

Have you ever wondered what font was used for the Ten Commandments? I assume, whatever the face, it was ten point font. It seems only fitting.

Sometimes I worry that the fact that our language is written and read left-to-right means we will, ultimately, forsake liberalism and embrace fundamentalism. It's a silly concern, I know, but it's an area of research largely unexplored. It's a topic, one could say, about which there is much left to write.

Time was a man could set his hovercar afloat anywhere he wanted in his own yard so long as he was sensible about it. These days everyone's concerned about gravity engagement, No-G failure. It's happened before, I know, but it's mighty rare. You'd have more chance of finding an unused Internet domain name less than three-hundred letters long than of a hovercar falling on you. Mind your own consarned business. Soon, I swear, you'll push me too far.

Hello, friends. Tell me what you know. Tell me about you.

Love.

The One Mostly About Stephen King and Me

I've decided to withdraw from the race for President of the United States of America. I should never have considered running with such a checkered past as mine. The press has already uncovered my Witness Protection Program status and the whole monkey ordeal. They're calling it Monkey Gate. I'd still gladly be Vice President of the United States of America, but only for Obama. He'll never pick me, though. The monkey lobby would make his life hell if he did. You cannot underestimate the power of the monkey lobby.

I always feel like such an arrogant, narcissistic ass when I link to myself. That reminds me of a song. Isn't there a song that says, "When I think about you I link myself?" I seem to remember it. No? Oh, okay.

Man, it's really foggy here this morning. That's cool, except the defroster in my car isn't working. The fog comes into my car and collects on the windows through which I am supposed to be able to see the other giant hunks of metal zooming all around me trying to kill me. It's like a bad Stephen King novel except it's not set in New England. It's in Texas. If Stephen King wrote a novel set in Texas I bet it would be really insulting. Every character would be a redneck idiot. (At this point Stephen King fans will inform me that Stephen King has, in fact, written 47 novels set in Texas and only 21 of them are insulting.) That guy has a problem (Stephen King I mean.) He just can't stop writing novels. If he tries to make a tuna sandwich, he writes a novel. If he tries to make love to a woman, novel. I'm exactly the same way, but just the opposite. I try to write a novel and end up making a tuna sandwich or making sweet, sweet love to my woman. (Did that creep you out like it did me? I think it was the proximity of the tuna sandwich reference to the sex reference, or possibly just the sex reference all by itself.)

I keep hoping this post will develop a controlling theme. I keep hoping that it will all wrap up nicely and that the end can relate to the beginning somehow. I'm rambling and rambling, hoping it will happen. Now, however, I'm just going to give up and quit.

Just like I quit the campaign trail. BOOYEAH!

Hello, friends. Please respond as you feel appropriate. I recommend total silence, though I welcome comment.

Love.

Rocket Christmas

It's rocket Christmas
     up too early for the weekend
Tomorrow I saw signs in the sky
      casting bones to know what's coming
Who makes the bed in the middle of the night?
     Who hides behind a glass door?
If no one does these things
     how will we ever be done with them?

I know what you're thinking, looking at me over the top of your glass. You assume that you've figured it out. You're about to explain it all to me. Here's the thing: I look like I'm looking at you, but I'm really looking behind you at everything over your shoulder. Before you and me, before that glass, half empty, was full, there was running and there was walking. There were growing pains and lessons learned. Only a fool doesn't learn from his old mistakes to make better mistakes. Don't believe what you read, and certainly not what you write.

It's rocket Christmas
     walking from the theatre alone
Tomorrow I made amends and set things in order
     peering with wispy hope into the mystic's glass
Who backs into the drive-in movie?
     Who hides in the spotlight?
If no one says these things
     how will we ever clear the air?

If I could put into words the things I feel I'd wrap them up in pretty paper and give them to you, a gift. Instead they wrap me up tight and still my voice. Silently, therefore, with everything left unsaid, I give myself to you, a gift.

Dystopia or Datopia?

For thirty-some-odd years now I've operated this conflabutool in the klorsh mines, sacking hunks of Blackish Gold and sending them to greedy hands waiting above on the conveyor deck. In all these years have I ever petitioned for a break or compensation or even for a new filament for my mineglow that burned out almost two years ago? No, no I haven't. I've stayed in the steerpod of this conflabutool hooked to these biotubes and kept the tool churning night and day. I've been a model resource. This Christmas, therefore, I'm going to ask the gangman if could possibly get a topside pass to go and see my family in Texas. I think that's right. I've been thinking about it for the last three months and I'm almost positive they lived in Texas. There was the tall lady with brown hair and the guy with the beard. There was that fat kid and the old lady in the wheelchair. I remember she freaked me out because her teeth weren't real and she could take them out. I wonder how the fat kid is doing? I guess he wouldn't be a kid anymore. I wonder if he's still fat? I should get out of this pod and go topside. If not this year then some year soon.

Dystopian imaginings come so easily, it seems. There are no end of bleak predictions about the future. Anyone could conjure the klorsh mines from the daily grind of their job. It's just projection ad absurdum. In truth, I suspect the future will be better in many ways. In the future there will be no hangnails. In the future all hamburgers will be juicy. In the future all sushi will be fresh and affordable. In the future cars will run by burning romance novels, by using Daimler's patented Fabio-Drive. In the future there will be holographic turtleneck sweaters. They will look nice but you won't feel them on your neck, they won't choke you to death. The future will be glorious. I can hardly wait. I'll meet you there.

Hello, friends. Tell me about the future.

Love.

Internet Security (With a Boring Point Interpolated)

I got an email yesterday from a blogger asking why I never comment on his/her site anymore. (It's perfectly obvious to me whether he/she is a boy/girl, I'm just trying to protect his/her anonymity and, with a readership as small as mine, giving up the sex of the person narrows it down to two or three people.) Has this ever happened to you? It makes me feel like such a jerk. The truth is, in case this makes anyone feel better, I hardly comment anywhere these days. It's because I just don't have time. If I don't comment on your site, therefore, please don't take it personally. It's either because I'm too busy or because you've offended me somehow. I never have time to comment and I never forgive.

I wonder if, with all this weather flying around up there, anything interesting has happened in Boring, Oregon. I often wonder this about Boring, Oregon when I feel listless and have nothing to do. It would be funny to pack up the family one day and announce, "Good news, kids! We're going to Boring!" These are not new ideas, I know, but I find them amusing right now. I wish I were from Boring, Oregon. I could use it as an excuse all the time. "Sorry everyone. I'm a Boringer." Boringite? Boringian? Bore?

Before I go, I thought I'd take an informal poll:

1. Did you read this post?
2. Did you comment on this post?
3. Do you like me? (CIRCLE ONE)   YES   NO

Hello, friends. Tell me what it's all about.

Love.

Week Beginning

Well, I survived yet another NaLogoMo. I have to admit, it wasn't as easy as it was last year. I almost did a couple of things in honor of NaLogoMo, but then I caught myself. And so, I'm proud to report that, a couple of near-stumbles notwithstanding, I managed to do nothing for NaLogoMo '07. Here's to me! I'm actually a little pumped for next year. I have several ideas for it and I'm pretty sure I won't do any of them. Who's the man? BOOYEAH!

I've been so busy lately! Man oh man oh man. I haven't even had time to watch my daily soap operas. As such, I've not seen any of the new soap advertisements. What's happening in soap these days? I have no idea. I was going to TiVo my "soaps" (that's what I call them,) but I couldn't figure out how to use the damnable TiVo. Plus I don't have a TiVo or anything like it (except in the broad sense in which a VCR is like it, but I don't know how to use that either.) Plus I don't even watch soap operas. My grandparents used to watch one called "All My Children." Being good Christian people, they watched it religiously. I saw it a couple of times. I didn't grab me. I'm more of a documentary guy, I guess (assuming, of course, that you consider footage of skaters wiping out on stair rails "documentaries") (and you know you do.) (You know, they could probably market soap operas to the "Worst Car Crashes Ever Caught on Tape" crowd with a packaging change. Mostly you'd just have to change the title to "Worst ____ Ever Caught on Tape." You could use the word "People" or "Acting" or "Nose Jobs.") Here ends the paragraph about soap operas and about how busy I am.

Hello, friends. How was your weekend?

Love.

P. S. - Thanks for all your kind responses to my last post regarding my upset over my daughter's encounter with mean girls. You guys are great. She's over it now. Plus, she found out she's not just on the basketball A-team, she's a starter on the A-team! She's a skilled athlete just like I wasn't. Hooray for her! Thanks for stopping by.