Tuesday morning- seventeen years ago

A man walks into a donut shop; the dim glow from the light pierces his eyes as the sun has not risen yet. Standing behind the counter is a woman at least three times his age. The two exchange greetings as the man looks over the vast array of handmade delights.

He selects two ordinary cake donuts, and asks for a coffee too. The woman gets the donuts and puts them in a small paper sack before pouring the steaming black liquid into a white Styrofoam cup.

“Three ninety-two,” the woman says with a smile.
The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wadded five-dollar bill. He hands the woman the money, still examining the lines in his hands- filled with dirt and grit.

He finds a booth and sits down. The paper rustles softly as he reaches for that first donut. He looks around at the white-painted brick walls, the dingy floor tiles and the ancient stools perched next to the small counter.

The man is taken back to a place he had gone many years ago with his grandfather, before a morning of fishing. He pictures himself staring out of a plate-glass window at the steam rolling out of the tailpipes of cars on that chilly morning. How the tattered seats of the corner booth in that café were the most comfortable seats in the whole world. The way his grandfather smiled at him over his coffee cup, and the first bite of that extraordinary cake donut.

The last time dad hung up the lights.

Ever since I was a kid my dad had always freaked when my brothers, or me, broke anything in the house. Whether we broke a spatula, or wrecked a car, his reaction was always the same.
'Jesus Christ! What the hell were you doing!' He'd always say in his thunderous voice.
So I was shocked at what he did that cold November day four years ago.
It was just after Thanksgiving, and my dad volunteered me to help him hang the Christmas lights on the outside of our house. Besides the fact that I hate Christmas lights, I hate having to do things with my dad, simply because there are no shortcuts with him, everything is done by the book.
Normally we hang our lights with plastic clips that clip onto the lip of the gutter, but when I came out of the house my dad was standing in our driveway pulling the clips off the strands of lights. I questioned him as to what he was doing, but his only reply was
“Trying to hang the Goddamn lights.”
I began to worry when he told me to get a hammer from the garage, I did as I was told, because there was no use arguing. I got the hammer as he leaned the ladder up against the side of the house. I handed him the hammer when he got to the top of the ladder, and then handed him the end of one of the strands of lights. I turned to watch the neighbors as they backed out of their driveway, but was shocked when I turned around to see what my dad was doing. He had pulled a large nail from his coat pocket and had slipped it between the two wires and had the hammer ready to send the nail into the siding. I couldn’t speak, hell, I almost pissed myself, and I could not believe what my dad was about to do.
With a quick tap the nail pierced the siding and it was too late. I thought he’d come to his senses and realize what he did, but he kept going. We reached the other side of the house, just above my parent’s bedroom window when we ran out of the strands of with lights, I told him we were out of lights but he didn’t believe me. He got off the ladder and rustled through the box on the driveway. He came back with a ten-foot long section of colored Christmas lights even though we only had six foot of house left. He climbed the ladder again and tacked the last string of lights to the house. Four feet of lights dangled from the end of the chain. He tacked those to the house parallel to the downspout.
It was a Christmas nightmare bad enough to make Rudolph puke, Frosty melt, and Santa reach for a beer. I ran inside and found my mom who was in the basement folding laundry and told her what her husband had done. I’d never seen my mom move that fast before she was upstairs and out the door before I could even flinch. I had barely made it to the front door before I heard my mom start to yell at him. I sat down at the kitchen table to contemplate what had just happened.
Later that day my brother Dan came over to see what dad had done, he laughed when I told him what happened as we took down the lights.
Dad was frustrated that none of us thought his display looked pretty. That was the last time mom let him put up Christmas lights.

Uneducated MF'er

I drink, that's a fact. But the idea that just because i drink alot means that i'm stupid pisses me off. I've been told many times in job interviews and conversations with professionals that I am a very bright and well informed young person. I just don't like to be serious all the time, i like to have fun. There are things that i take serious, i can't think of many but i do. The education I've recieved throughout my life was never about math or reading, it was about how to work with my hands to build and construct structures. How many people out there are proficient welders? How many people out there can build a house to code? I don't know i've never looked at the statistics. So before you count me out at least take the time to get to know me. It might change your perceptions.
P.S. Regina,Sorry about using questions, and writing from the first.

A day in the life of a not-so-typical student.

Morning has come as the sun shines on the sleepy students face. His alarm has been going off for an hour, but he's not moving. Suddenly, he stirs and sits up to check the clock.
"Shit!," he exclaims as he realizes he has fifteen minutes to get dressed and get to class.
He picks up his shirt from the night before- it reeks of smoke, stale beer and stripper. Ah, the holy trinity of debauchery.
Finally, dressed in his usual attire; shirt, running shorts and sandals, he dashes out the door, realizing its cold as hell outside. But he's got to get to class, and a little cold won't stop him as he jumps into his car. With a drop of the key the car comes to life, and Van Halen comes blasting from the speakers at ear shattering volumes.
The posted speed limit is 35, but he is managing an impressive 58 when he sees the police officer with the radar gun jump out from behind a tree, a quick lane change and an unplanned left turn elude the police.
Upon arriving at campus the student spends well over 20 minutes trying to find a parking space, finally selecting one nowhere near his class. With a reluctant sigh he heads into Morgan Hall for another lecture. The class is, as usual, bored out of their fucking minds. All the student can think about is trying to get through class without passing out.
He moves through the day, the hangover wearing off. He takes the time to remind himself that he’s not an alcoholic, just a professional.
Finally he comes to his last class of the day. His classmates view him as an idiot, and an asshole, but he doesn’t give a fuck, he knows what he’s about and that’s a goodtime.
After class he heads to the library to get some work done, even though his mind travels elsewhere.
It is late now, around 7:30 and he heads home to eat, shower, change clothes, and figure out where he’s going tonight.

The Beginning of the End

Fire is ravaging the state of California, and with peoples' fascination with Nostradamus and his predictions, some in America are wondering if this is the beginning of the end. Sure, there are predictions of fire and brimstone raining down from the sky destroying all mankind, but the explanation is very simple. On a recent episode of a History Channel series Modern Marvels, biologists explain that the hills around Los Angeles were covered with natural pine forests that burned every so often, but were easily extinguished once the supply of fuel was burned. After the forests had burned it would regenerate in only a few years, but as settlers moved west they clearcut the vast forests leaving the hills barren. Wild grasses grew and settlers soon found that with the help of lightning and the Santa Ana winds the hills around the city were a giant tinder box waiting to ignite. Though it sounds harsh and cruel because people have died and many are now without homes, the lesson that should have been learned a long time ago is- don't interrupt the delicate balance of an ecosystem or it will come back to haunt you.

New Beginning

Husker football is a religion to those living in Nebraska, but lately there has been an absence of enthusiasm in Lincoln. The team is losing, the blackshirts are no more and fans as well as alumni are calling for the firing of Head Coach Bill Callahan. On Monday the University of Nebraska fired Athletic Director Steve Pedersen, which was far too late to save the program, and replaced him with former coaching great Tom Osborne. Osborne, who won three National Championships during his tenure in Lincoln, is looking to bring back the tradition to the storied program, something that was lost when Steve Pedersen took over. Though the Huskers face the possibility of losing out the rest of the season, it is new day in the Cornhusker state. It is the best day the Big Red faithful have seen in along time.

Whatever happened to quality programming?

Lately there has been nothing on television. Cable delivers a bazillion channels with nothing on. You're either force fed warmed over dramas, re-runs of shows in syndication or faux reality T.V. Many times the news is hard to swallow with reports of wars, shootings, bombings and terrorist threats, its a little too much to worry about at the end of shitty day.

Cartoons and Comedy Central seem to provide more social commentary than the O'Reilly Factor, which should actually be called 'Jackass.' There's nothing on the radio either, corporate radio has killed variety. They keep costs down by syndicating shows and replaying the same 14 songs all day which gets downright annoying. Not to mention the fact that satellite radio is complete bullshit.

People have to buy a subscription to the service when radio has been a free medium since its inception. If people want to pay money to hear songs they like, or hear a certain format they should go to the bar and piss away 30 bucks on the juke box. The best way to describe the the American consumer, save for savvy college kids and independent thinkers, is that they are essentially sheep, and the media is the shepherd or farmer. The farmer feeds the sheep, the sheep eat what the farmer feeds them, and lately the sheep have been eating a steady diet of shit. The best course of action would be to take the advice of psychologist and proponent of psychadelic drugs Dr. Timothy Leary and "Turn on, tune in, drop out." Don't be a sheep people.

Strange

Recently an article appeared as an e-mail on MySpace, which truly demonstrated how stupid people can sometimes be, especially cops. The article told of a police officer who was staked outside of a bar to catch those who tried to drive home intoxicated. After 30 minutes a patron stumbled out of the bar, walked a few steps and fell flat on his face. The man got up and stubled towards the parking lot. The officer watched closely as the man tried to unlock several vehicles before finding his own. The man got into his car and passed out for an undisclosed amount of time before waking, by this time many patrons at the bar had left leaving the obviously drunk man sitting in his car. Upon waking the man started his car and tried to drive away. The officer quickly started his car and proceeded to pull the man over. A field sobriety test was administered and the man passed the test. Finally the officer administered a breathalyzer test, the man blew 0.0. The officer was enraged by this time and informed the man that his equipment was broken, and he was taking the man to the station for a blood test. The man looked the officer square in the eye and said "That's fine. I'm the designated decoy tonight."

What the hell?

Notice: Since i forgot to post the last week or two i thought i'd make it up.
Violence- it has come to symbolize a generation of children. This generation has beared witness to the tragedies of Columbine, 9/11 and Virginia Tech, all the while hoping and praying that it could never happen to them. Growing up this generation has heard the violent lyrics of Death Metal and Gangsta Rap played on Top 40 radio alongside pure pop songs.

They have played video games that glorify a world of violence, disrespect toward women and a lack of respect for the law. Some look to scapegoat the music, but music is simply art through an audio medium, it is the responsibility of the individual to draw the line between reality and fantasy. However the blame does not rest solely on those who commit the crimes, but with those who are indifferent toward the problem.

They are the ones who don't care enough to speak up, yet they are shocked when an incident occurs. Many experts say the warning signs were there, that the individual was antisocial, or psychotic, but truly how many people could have predicted how the individual would lash out at society for their own shortcomings. We as a society must feel compelled to watch for those individuals for the greater good of society, and to hopefully one day end the violence.

RIP Willy Brown

Eighty eight years ago this week, a most heinous and unjustified execution took place in Omaha, Neb. It's victim a wrongfully accused man named Will Brown. Brown an African American, was wrongfully accused of raping a white woman, when it was later discovered the assailants were white men dressed in black face. The paper at the time the Omaha Bee was doing yellow journalism stories about crimes that blacks had committed. The woman who was allegedly raped fingered Brown as her rapist.

An outraged mob gathered at the courthouse in protest demanding that Brown be handed over to them. The guards in the jail refused and the mob set fire to the courthouse, stranding the jailed men on the roof. The mayor tried to quiet the people, but he was hanged, and later rescued. Brown was not so lucky, he was handed over to the crowd. The crowd hanged him from a light post before dragging his body behind a car to an intersection where they set fire to his corpse. A later investigation revealed that a crime boss in Omaha, had his flunkies dress in blackface make-up and perpetrate crimes to unsettle the citizens. The paper ate it up and the result was an innocent man was wrongly imprisoned, and was unmercifully tortured for a crime he never committed.

Me, being a resident of Omaha, recently discovered this dark chapter in my hometown's past. I was shocked and ashamed at the history of my hometown. It haunted me that people could be so cruel to one another, and even go so far as to ignore the facts of a case and instead of using correct judgment to set them free, using hateful judgment and blind racism to condemn them.

This week learn from the past and keep the truth in your writing. Use your best judgement, do not judge others lest ye be judge.

losing it

For generations people have searched for the meaning of life. It has been the topic of books, movies and has kept the greater part of the population in the dark about what it's all about. Individuals have tried different methods to reach the enlightenment about man's plight, from God, religion and soul searching to drugs, sex and rock and roll. But it still remains there is no definite answer. Man's plight is simply searching for some substance to life, the old "where's the beef?" applied to daily life. There's no map to find the meaning of life, there is only the pursuit, the chase to make the realization that life is only what you make of it that is the meaning to life.

Tired

What does it mean to be tired? Tired either relates to physical exhaustion, grogginess due to lac of sleep, or general discontent due to one's state of mind. There is no reason to be tired, every day is a new experience in post-football life. There's new challenges to be met, new people to meet, but still I'm tired. From the meek existence I live, to being in this town, somedays I feel like leaving at ten o' clock at night, and driving all night to get to somewhere new. Not for a vain attempt to make spring break six moths early, but to explore the vast back highways and expanses of America, to find solitude, and piece of mind and to reignite the enthusiasm I once had for college. I'm tired and I want to go.

Time for change

People have often looked forward to college, as a new start, a time to reinvent themselves. Tried that, didn't work. I ended up being as close to a 'A' lister, not the Hollywood kind, but the kind who attends meetings and talks about their troubles. I don't want to end up that way, especially after the asschewing/lecture my father afforded me the past weekend. I would've felt better had he called me 'a piece of shit,' but no I was informed that over the past six years I've been nothing but a disappointment, and have put a strain on his relationship with me. I know I don't preach the Bible openly, but I am a God fearing Catholic. It might be that I'm the youngest in my family, it might be that my parents are of the 'old guard', or I could be the blacksheep whatever the case is I am not that bad of a person. I might daydream, or slackoff which ever way you view it, but hey that's me. My friends will tell you I'm a good guy, I genuinely listen to them when they have problems, I care for them, and I'll always be there for them. so what makes me a bad guy? I couldn't tell you, but I can tell you it's time for me to try and change my ways.

then end in sight. (Hopefully)

Speaking retrospectively, college has been fun. Well, not going to class, or studying, or taking finals, but like the experience of it was fun. Its only during freshman year when at the drop of a hat friends will journey to Manhattan, or Lawrence for a night of hard partying on a monday. Sophomore year brings a little more of the same, but with some responsiblity because everybody's GPA is hovering around 2.0. Junior year is when all the trouble starts again as 21 is the magical number that opens the doors to every bar in town, but money gets tight after awhile, so the bars become foreign to some. Finally in the fall of that last year the mind becomes focused on the prize, fixated on it daily. You don't go to the bars anymore, unless it's like a random thursday, or something fun is going on. Studying becomes a habit, friends stop by to watch TV, noone drinks everyone has class tomorrow. As sleep sets in and the eyes close thoughts reflect on four years worth of late nights spent studying, sleep that was sacrificied on the altar of the almighty passing 'C', copious amounts of caffiene and nicotine consumed to keep the eyes open and the hands moving, naps between finals, and spending that last twenty bucks on enough Ramen noodles to keep you fed til you got back home after finals week. And though many think the end is in sight few are sure that the day will ever come.

New start

School sucks, but that's day one stuff. There's nothing more exciting as a child than getting new crayons, back pack and shoes then to realize all this new stuff isn't worth 12 years of public education, but hell most would love to go back to high school than and load up on AP courses than pay ungodly amounts of money per credit hour. Which brings me to my only point 'When i spend all my hard earned cash on books, how the hell am i supposed to pay for all the beer i drink?!' If you have any suggestions let me know.