The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Ladies, Gentlemen, Chief Sniper,

The Summer hiatus of 2009 is over; new content will now again be appearing on Kjel.org on a semi-regular basis. Sorry for the delay. I was busy making preparations for and then celebrating International Bacon Day . I’m sure you understand that that took precedence over restarting this rough beast of a website.

A post about Kjel.org’s July trip to Lake Chelan, the insanity that is Yakima, and denying the Reaper while driving west on I-84 at 80 mph in 40 knot winds will be up soon. By soon I mean Monday. Maybe.

–CEO

The unannounced impromptu hiatus at Kjel.org is soon to end. I hadn’t planned on taking a break but at some point in July my Mojo abandoned me. My Muse, so to speak. She always has been the temperamental type but this time the byotch just up and R-U-N-N-O-F-T on me. I’ve lately seen her sneaking about in my backyard though so I think that very soon there will again be semi-regular content updates at Kjel.org. We’ll see.

No excuses for the lag except for the usual ones: I gots a job to keep, a family that deserves more attention than I give them, a malaise brought on by the state of the nation and the world, etc. Also, my inability to find an 800 Octane show at a venue appropriate for a four year old has taken its toll.

Kjel.org has some new stories to tell. Some or all of us have recently gone to Lake Chelan, PGE Park, to a used car lot in Vancouver, and seen other various wonders. I just saw another rustling in the bushes out behind my deck — that Muse will be back in the HQ soon. Stay tuned.

For the couple of people who asked me about baby due dates for certain gentlemen (or, more accurately, their wives) at the Miles Ct 4th of July Fest last weekend, please consult the following graphs produced by the Kjel.org CTO during his spare time. He most certainly did not create them while he was at work. Take a look and admire — that’s why he is the CTO.

Maximum chance of baby convergence on November 12 it looks like. If all three manage to be born on the same day it may well be some sort of sign. Sign from who or what though is really the interesting question . . .

Kjel.org and many of the usual suspects spent a long weekend at the beach a few days back. It was, as usual, AWESOME. A full report with many a picture will be coming soon, but I believe the image below correctly captures one of the aspects of this (and all) beach trips that make them so great. I am both sad and happy that the pic below did not come from my office but was instead ripped off from the internets.

More details soon.

It is now a certainty: my little AK has the Devil in him. The CFO’s Mom called it a few weekends ago and I think she is right. Evidence:

When the Jr VP does something bad he tries to hide it, and then is sad and ashamed when you call him out on it. The AK? He will make sure you see him do whatever it is he is doing, with a huge grin and a devilish gleam in his eye the whole time. An example: the other night he kept stealing dishes from the dishwasher as the CFO was trying to load it. After several rounds of this the CFO was fairly irritated with the AK and closed the dishwasher. At this, angry at being thwarted, he walked in the other room and grabbed a (thankfully) soft baseball bat, walked past his Mommy, looked her in the eye and smiled, and then raised the bat above his head and brought it down onto the head of his brother. The AK didn’t care about his brother; he was trying to punish Mommy. He got in serious trouble for that one, but really, how do you punish a not-quite-two year old? We put him in “time-out” and he just sits there and smiles the whole time. I hope it is just a stage. Demonic possessions go away on their own, right?

Not that the Jr VP is an angel all the time either, but a problem (one among many) with him is that on occasion the CFO and I will disagree on what is appropriate behavior for the lad. The other afternoon when some kids were walking behind our property to get to the street below us they were spotted by Stinkboy. He rushed to the open window: “GET OFF OF MY LAWN!!!. His parents were respectively aghast/angry and amused/impressed. I will leave it to you, Gentle Reader, to guess to whom to assign those particular responses.

This morning the CFO gets out of the shower, puts on a robe, and checks in on the Jr. VP. There is a large lump in the middle of his bed under a blanket where he normally is; the lump is obviously him still asleep. The CFO says “sweet” and goes back to her room to brush her teeth and comb her hair and whatnot. A bit later she hears the Intern laughing and laughing from his crib across the hall. “Wow, Señor Bebé is in a good mood today. Awesome!” The CFO finishes up her morning rituals and heads over to the AK’s room to grab him from the crib, get him dressed and take him downstairs to feed him some grub. She stands in front of his crate and leans down toward the boy. “Why is my baby so happy today!!” she says while watching the lad laugh and laugh and laugh. She soon learns. At the height of the baby’s laughter a certain four year old reaches out from under the crib and grabs his Mommy’s bare ankle with authoritay. Hello Mommy!

AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! said the CFO. The Jr VP then needed a paper bag to defeat hyperventilation as he was so proud of himself for grabbing Mommy. Good Lord I love that little dude. At least until he really does give Mommy a heart attack, then our relationship will be a little more complicated.

And one more thing: guess where I parked, eh?

I like my cars the same way I like my women. Look here to see what I mean.

Business flip-flops anyone?

I’m not writing it down, but next time I see you remind me to describe some recent silliness. It’s like I work at Dunder-Mifflin as the branch manager. He’s the smart one, right?

I thought about some Sunday golf on Saturday night when several fine folk associated with Kjel.org (and 30% of Beaverton) got some dinner out on the lawn at this place. Policing 9 kids in the woods behind the Raccoon (nobody got hit by a car or abducted. Victory!) when I should have been enjoying beers with friends made me think of outings that by law cannot involve anyone younger than 21. A round of golf at a certain course was sounding very appealing. However, by Sunday morning I had decided against it: the CEO has to at least occasionally make an effort to step it up as a husband and father, and I’d decided that Sunday would be one of those times and I was going to blow off golf. The Edumacator however had other ideas . . .

The Chief stepped up to the plate and hit an absolutely mammoth home run. I was at the grocery store Sunday morning with the AK when the call came in from the CFO. The Educator has a 12:15 tee-time for you guys at Edgefield. You better hurry. Don’t worry I don’t need you today. [The Chief Sniper’s lovely wife] is coming over with the boys, and we are going to play at the HQ. Go have fun. If the CFO ever wonders why I like and love her so much she ought to treat Sunday as Exhibit A. I owe you one, mama.

Me and the little dude tore ass around the store, got our provisions and then headed home, again at a high rate of speed. We perhaps even exceeded the posted speed limit a time or two during our journey. I will neither confirm nor deny if this is true.

Shortly after delivering the groceries to the HQ I picked up the Chief and we headed out to Edgefield. There we met the Man from the Dalles, and our day officially began. We signed on for the 20 hole course; no half-assing it for us. No sirree. As we were paying for our round in the clubhouse the Chief HVAC technician spoke thusly, setting the tone for the rest of the afternoon: “You know what? Lets get some gin before we order our beers for hole #1!” You sir are a genius! And so our 20 hole journey began, with an excellent first step.

It was an absolutely perfect day for Edgefield golf. The course was empty, with no one at any time in front of or behind us. While I suck at golf, the least weak (I hesitate to use the word ‘best’ about any aspect of my game) clubs I swing are the putter and the wedge. Guess which two clubs you need at the pub course? I only lost about 5 balls all day which for me means it was a quality outing. The double bonus? No asswipe threw any of our clubs into the woods after we’d laid them down for a second. I hear that happens there sometimes.

The back 20 has a beer girl now who just circles the west course asking golfers if they need anything. We ran into her just as the first beers were gone and restocked: ice cold 22’s of Ruby, which was just the perfect beer for the day. It is a good thing she only took cash; otherwise I would have started ordering shots for 2/3rds of our threesome — those were on the menu as well. As it was we scraped together enough money for beer, and it was the best beer I’ve had in a long, long time. Thank you, gentlemen.

Unfortunately it was so bright that the pictures didn’t turn out well, or come even close to conveying how glorious it was out there. Below is the Educator, attempting a long putt for birdie. We played every hole as a par three, even those that topped out at 42 yards. I came into the clubhouse at about 30 over — not a bad day for me.

The Educator wisely taking advice from the 1/3 of the group that actually knew how to golf:

The view was outstanding from the top of the course. My dorky cell phone did it justice to a rate of about 10%. It did manage however to do justice to the Educator’s belly to the tune of about 150%. For anyone who hasn’t seen him in a while, trust me, it is the camera — he didn’t just put on 50 lbs while you weren’t looking.

After our round we had Linner on the patio, and then retired to the Little Red Shed for some post Linner refreshment. We all agreed that it is probably for the better that the Edgefield golf course is way the hell out in Troutdale, because if it was located on, say, the property presently occupied by Wilson High School I would spend $1,000 a year playing there. My short game would be absolutely phenomenal by now, so there is that, but probably not worth the extra grand a year.

An awesome Sunday, and just what I needed. See you guys again on Saturday.

Business. Shorts.

File this one under “Brothers don’t shake hands. . .”

The AK isn’t actually that tall. The pic is not clear on this fact but the Jr. VP has him a few inches off the ground here.

It’s not like we need to do any serious remodel at the HQ, but there are still a few small things we’d like to do to it in 2009. Earlier this week we got one of them knocked out:

We ripped out the grass that used to be next to the driveway at the HQ and replaced it with some thick flagstones. The guys who put it in did a real nice job; the flat rocks look about fifteen times cooler than the nasty moss and weed filled grass that was there before, and in a pinch it can work as a third parking spot. A big bucket of win all around on this one I would say.

Now, who wants to help me build a spiral staircase (from a kit) connecting my two decks? Don’t you guys all raise your hands at once.

A new ongoing feature here at Kjel.org: What is the Jr. VP’s favorite song right now?

I’ll provide updates as it changes, unless of course the current leader remains his favorite forever. Possible I would say. Past leaders have included Ring of Fire by both Mr. Cash and Social Distortion, Rambling Man (Allman Brothers), Waiting For My Ruca (Sublime) and Unchained (Van Halen).

The current favorite? Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon. Ahhoooooo!

I find this story very awesome, not sure why. Probably because it involves two of my favorite things, namely, nuclear weaponry and good scotch whisky.

Nuclear bomb tests help to identify fake whisky
Radioactive material flung into the atmosphere by nuclear bomb tests is helping scientists to fight the multi-million pound trade in counterfeit antique malt whisky. Researchers at the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit, which is funded by the National Environmental Research Council, discovered that they could pinpoint the date a whisky was made by detecting traces of radioactive particles created by nuclear bomb tests in the 1950s.

On Saturday morning me and the boy headed down to McMinnville. Our first stop was the Evergreen Aviation Museum, home of the Spruce Goose and quite a few other cool planes. Junior loved it. Daddy! Daddy! Look at all the shooters! He, unsurprisingly, liked the planes with guns the best. “Probably good your Mommy isn’t here with us.”

Along that same vein he absolutely loved the B-17: it has a lot of ’shooters’ poking out of all sides. Below is the lad peeking inside the rear hatch.

The museum has an excellent kids area. It is great because it is right in the middle of things. I could leave the lad playing on the flight simulator and still see him while I walked around a bit looking at stuff. Both of us respectively had our fun. Below is Junior ‘flying’ his helicopter.

We left the museum and headed out for “cheeseburgers on top of a skyscraper” as I had sold it him. We went to perhaps my favorite of all McMenamins, the Rooftop Bar at the Hotel Oregon.

Two cheeseburgers, two chocolate milks and one Ruby later we climbed down off the roof, fat full and happy. We then headed home and the lad slept for hours. Not a bad little Saturday.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is my great pleasure to announce a promotion in the Kjel.org organization. The Chief Bride had a good run, but the wife of the Chief Educator shall no longer be known by that title. Henceforth she will have multiple titles that all can and will be used interchangeably. Some you should expect to see in the near future:

Chief Mommy-To-Be
Director of BeingKnockedUp
Concierge at the Fetus Hotel
Product Manager, Bun In Oven Division
Senior Director of Gestation

I’m sure there will be others as they occur to me.

Big Kjel.org congratulations to the happy parents-to-be. I talked to the Educator earlier today and I’m not sure if it all has fully sunk in for him yet. I recognized the feeling; it didn’t really feel real for me until the little tyke was actually born. Then it is real. All too real at certain times.

Holy crap this is going to be fun. 2009 just got one hell of a lot better than it was shaping up to be. El Jefe de Bebé, you lay off the heroin and the paint thinner huffing now you hear? The CFO had a real tough time with that during her pregnancies. And Chief Educator, what doing Saturday night? The end of your ‘I go out regularly’ lifestyle is approaching with a speed you might not realize, and we got ourselves a designated driver after all . . .

I foresee a Kjel.org baby naming contest in the not too distant future. Start thinking people.

Good Lord this is going to be awesome in all respects. I am going to really enjoy watching the changes occur at the Edumacator’s pad. Frankly I am having a hard time imagining them. For some reason I am reminded of this older Kjel.org post. This kid might be very, very tough.

8 trillion kinds of awesomeness here. Seriously.

There might be some civil disobedience in my near future. “The Red Suby? Uh, it was stolen.”

Portland drivers may face new fee
SALEM — Portland car owners could pay an additional registration fee for their rides — this one based on how much they drive — under a steadily shrinking transportation bill that’s having a bumpy trip through the Legislature. . . If approved, the city would be allowed to set a separate fee for cars owned by Portland residents and charge them based on how many miles they drive. . . Details, such as how much would be charged, how much would be raised and how the mileage would be documented on each car, have yet to be filled in.

1. Kjel.org drove to Seattle Saturday morning. I don’t know what sort of weird aura I was spewing that day, but more than 2 dozen people either purposefully or by accident tried to use the Red Suby as their instrument of suicide. I thwarted their plans. I was a little tense by the time we dropped off the heir and the spare at the CFO’s parents house, and tried to relax while the CFO’s dad drove us to our hotel downtown. No dice. Three passengers in a car were rubbernecking at some police action under the Convention Center. I happened to look up and notice that I was the only one watching the road of the three of us, and traffic was at a dead stop 50 feet ahead. We were going freeway speeds. I hope the CFO’s father does not think less of me for screaming like Ned Flanders, but it alerted him in time to put on the breaks. Can’t argue with results and all that. Anyway, I avoided cars the rest of the day.

Me and the little lady walked from our hotel through Pike Place, along the waterfront, and then through Pioneer Square toward the stadium. We stopped at the Pioneer Square Saloon for refreshment, a place I spent many a summer night in the early and mid 90’s. As we were getting our pints at the bar a dude walking past slaps me on the back and says Jay! Man, how you doing!? “Pretty good dude, pretty good.” He keeps walking and I go back to ordering my pint. What the hell was that about?the CFO asked. I said nothing and simply turned around, allowing her to see the glorious word BUHNER on my back. Ah, crap, are we gonna have to deal with this sort of thing all night? “I hope so.” Sadly, that was the only piece of BUHNER love I received.

As we approached the stadium through Pioneer Square, a strange thing happened. All of a sudden everyone around us just seemed like a chump. Imagine the worst sort of person that might live in Enumclaw or Estacada maybe. Now imagine 10,000 of them, all moving toward the stadium. These do not look like baseball fans commented the CFO. As we made it Quest Field, the chumpery reached its apex, and now we knew why: Supercross! Quest Field was hosting a day of dirt bike racing, and there were hundreds and hundreds of fans outside the stadium tailgating. A lot black T-shirts with logos I’d never heard of; a lot of bad tattoos; a lot of Busch lite. As we got past Quest and moved toward Safeco the Supercross and baseball crowds started to mix. The CFO and I played a fun game called ‘Mariners or Supercross?’ while we walked over to Pyramid. It was not hard and I am almost certain we batted 1.000.

2. The boy is getting creative with his insults. On the drive back from Seattle I refused to play Stinkboy’s requests on the radio. He was displeased. Daddy you’re mean, I don’t like you! When we get home I am gonna steal all your money and put it in jail, and then put you in jail and lock it from the inside! Then I am gonna put all your money in a rocket ship and shoot it into space where it will never, ever, ever come back for a very long time! Then the rocket will crash and blow up and all your money will fall down to all the people in the real world* but you!” Jeez Stinkboy, relax, here, have some Van Halen already. It’s like he’s been reading my recent dream journals or something.

* the “real world” is anywhere not animated and/or inhabited by Imperial forces and Rebel scum.

3. The CEO had a physical today. The good doctor found no physical defects beyond the obvious. After he tested my reflexes and found them freakishly powerful, I insisted that he use the term catlike on my chart. I am not certain he did. I am still waiting for the results of the EKG and blood tests to come back, so I might not be fully out of the woods yet. At worst I’m hoping for some variant of this:

I’ve been there before.

I would also like to take this opportunity to throw my thanks up to Jebus for the fact that a) The CEO is not yet 40, and, b) prostate cancer does not run in my family. The doctor seemed pleased by these facts too. That is all.

4. Today was Take the kids to work day. I wasn’t asked to participate this year, I wonder why. Was it the NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!! I yelled that made he little kids cry last year as they were leaving my office?? Could have been now that I think about it.

5. I wore business shorts to work for the first time in 2009 this last week. I can do that now. It’s good to be the King! Or at least have your liege keep his throne in another state. From my office on Monday:

6. Me and a couple of boys were rolling around on the floor playing rough the other night. I do not remember how it came about (perhaps the lack of memory is a defense mechanism against even more PTSD?) but somehow the Jr. VP was on his back and I was on my belly and he managed to raise his foot up high and bring it crashing down on my skull, right behind the ear. It felt like I’d been hit with a ball peen hammer; not sure why I didn’t lose consciousness. If I gave him an allowance it would certainly be docked this week.

7. At lunch today I saw the guy who should play Mr. Incredible’s boss if they ever make a live-action The Incredibles. The similarity was almost eerie. My urge to throw the dude through a couple of walls ala Mr Incredible was nearly unstoppable, but then I remembered that I am not a Super. Or more accurately my super power isn’t super strength, anyway.

7. The final domino falls: The middle sister, the Kjel.org rep for southern Cali, the one known as Annannannanana! to a generation of Kjel.org kids is finally engaged! Yay Annnanananana!!! Congrats to your lucky beau as well. I better start marinating another batch of “Engagement Jerky”. A secret special recipe where the jerky chef must walk a high-wire; if you succeed the meat is transcendental. I’ve screwed up a couple of batches over the last month or two but I’m getting closer. Sometimes you gotta swing not just for the fences, but for Edgar Martinez Drive.

It is possible that I have underestimated Spokane all these years:

SPOKANE — The Finch Arboretum is being overrun by ground squirrels, and Spokane Parks and Recreation is bringing in some special artillery. The agency is using a special machine called the Rodenator Pro to detonate some of the estimated 100 to 150 squirrels tearing up the grounds. . . The Rodenator Pro pumps propane and oxygen into the tunnels of squirrels, then sends an electric spark that causes an explosion. The shock waves kill the squirrels and collapse their tunnels — but in a humane way, the agency said.

Good to know it is a “humane” propane explosion. Wouldn’t want to see an inhumane fuel-air weapon deployed against the squirrels.

I believe this article spoke to me because of something psychologists call “confirmation bias.” I don’t care.

Are boys natually violent?
You don’t have to thrust a plastic gun into the hand of a toddler to teach him about violence. He is perfectly capable of fashioning, and deploying, his own weapons from the stuff around him. Branches become swords, remote controls are transformed into death sabres, saucepan lids are magicked into trusty shields. In fact, a toddler intent on waging war, often against an invisible enemy, is an awe-inspiring vision of energy, resourcefulness, creativity and imagination. And yet, to my reckoning, such behaviour is in danger of becoming pathologised. Several mothers at my daughter’s school have stopped going to the local playground because the play has become a bit rough. This includes waving broken branches around (“it could poke someone in the eye”), tearing around at high speed (“someone could get knocked over”) and shouting at younger children (“bullying”). When a parent explained this to me, I returned an analysis of the situation: yes, there is one boy in this gang of terrors that might have behavioural problems, but they are just young boys letting off steam after a day in the classroom. Boys are a bit more rough and tumble than our girls, I shrugged, and we can always intervene if things go awry. . .

My weekend just got a bit worse:

LAS VEGAS — The Mariners won’t have Ichiro when they open the season Monday in Minneapolis against the Twins. Ichiro, diagnosed as having had a bleeding ulcer, was placed on the 15-day disabled list Friday, retroactive to March 31. It marks the first career DL appearance for Ichiro, who had played in 197 consecutive games, and 807 of the Mariners’ past 810 games over the past five seasons. The ulcer is no longer bleeding, but doctors have ordered restricted activity for Ichiro. He is eligible to come off the disabled list on April 15 — one day after the Mariners’ home opener against the Angels — and the club hopes he will be ready to play by then.

1. The CEO owes a belated thank you to the Man from the Dalles and the D-O-G-G for coming over to the HQ the other weekend and helping me to move that hide-a-bed couch. Either it was really damn heavy, or I am turning into even more of a wuss than I used to be — for about three days afterwards I felt like someone had kicked my ass. The Dogg and I tried to do it ourselves, and almost could, but we couldn’t figure out how to get it through a certain doorway. The two of us tried for about ten minutes but were stuck. After he arrived it took the engineer among the three of us 15 seconds to solve the problem. Stupid liberal arts majors.

2. I have tentatively started the process of car shopping: the CFO needs and deserves a new ride. I immediately looked at the Nissan Armada. It turns out that the Armada is way more car than we need or want which is really too bad. I was so looking forward to saying certain things when the CFO (who was going to be retitled The Admiral if we bought it) was piloting her new car. The CFO is coming to pick me up? “Behold, the Admiral approaches with her Armada!” The CFO takes a loop around SW Portland doing errands? “All hail the Armada and the Admiral for her successful circumnavigation of Garden Home!” If she wrecks it? Good Lord! The Admiral has dashed her Armada upon the rocks!” You get the idea. Anyway, the early front runners I think are slightly used versions of either this Mazda (zoom zoom!) or this Volvo (bork bork bork!). I’ve never actually driven or even ridden in either of these cars, so if you have please let me know what you thought.

3. The foulmouthedness continues for the Jr. VP. As does the obsession with Star Wars:
The other morning he was sleeping in and had to be woken up. After a few shakes he was sort of awake, but still had his eyes closed. Out of his mouth: Where the hell am I?”. His mom was not impressed. “Uhh, honey, were you having a dream, I hope?” Yeaaaaahhh. “What were you doing?” I was at Jabba’s house. He did not elaborate further.

4. The CFO has been out of town for a bit, and the boys are all alone at the HQ. I don’t have to tell you what that means. Daddy: Son number one, what do you want for dinner? Jr. Vp: Cheetos and beef jerky!!! Daddy: You’re the boss. You want a beer with that too? Discipline can be difficult to maintain when the CFO is not at the HQ.

5. On Sunday morning the Jr. VP said I want to eat cheeseburgers and go to the old park and visit Han Solo and Princess Leia and play video games! In pretty short order I figured out that Leia and Han were aka the Chiefs Educator and Bride. I am not one to deny the boy, so away we went on our big day out. Things started off well enough, with the three of us picking up neccesary supplies (like Cheetos and beef jerky) at the Thriftway. We then continued to Solo’s pad where Stinkboy got to play old school video games (he learned how to play Dig Dug) and the AK managed to break very little. As is our wont when the CFO is away, three boys then went for cheeseburgers and a vist to the park. Yet another sign that the lad has watched way too much TV: when I asked him if he wanted a hamburger or a cheeseburger, he laughed and said No! I want a Krustyburger! I had to stop the car and give him a hug at that one. The trip went downhill quickly from there.

The ‘old park’ that we went to is on the side of a hill. It might have been sunny on Sunday, but at that park it was also windy and cold as hell. I was of course wearing shorts. Eight steps from the car the little AK did a total faceplant on the sidewalk, so of course we had to deal with that first. Finally we sat down on the park bench to eat our lunch. I was seated next to the AK, helping him to eat since the concept of a “McNugget with dipping sauce” was new to him. About three minutes in the Jr VP spilled all of his chocolate milk all over himself. He of course started wailing; not because he had spilled, but because he realized that now he had no chocolate milk. A gust of cold wind then blew an unsecured napkin off of the table; it was quickly gaining airspeed and altitude. It was the only clean napkin left and I needed it to wipe off the boy so I jumped up and ran for it. At about the 10 yard mark I turned around when I heard both boys scream: two crows were on our table, fighting over my Big Mac. As I yelled and ran back to the table, the winner flew off with my lunch in his mouth. Three freezing, two crying and one swearing boy decided that maybe today wasn’t a good day to go to the park. Home we went. I am going back to that park with a shotgun in the near future. Or at least daydream about doing so.

6. Finally, and most importantly, huge congratulations to the CEO’s littlest sister on her recent engagement. The destination wedding is a good idea and sounds like it is going to AWESOME, and I can’t wait to bring the kids to Mexico. I plan to walk around Puerto Vallarta with my own little six year old interpreter. Mi padre querría otro por favor.

This is why:

PORTLAND, Ore. - A semi-truck hauling soy sauce and other food overturned on Interstate 5 near southwest Portland’s Terwilliger Curves Monday morning, causing a huge traffic mess. The wreck happened about 8 a.m. and blocked all southbound freeway traffic. Eventually, officials opened a lane of southbound traffic, but the backup stretched for miles. The northbound lanes were also impacted initially. Some drivers stuck behind the wreck actually got out of their cars and passed the time during the delay by striking up conversations with others.

I locked the doors on the Red Suby.

The Jr. VP had his operation on Monday. He did great and everything went well and the lad is fine. His parents perhaps are not so fine, but we are maybe starting to come around.

I know what I am doing tonight:

After the last day or three I think I’ve earned it. I might give one to Stinkboy too. As for the CFO? She gets as many of these as she wants.

Note to self: if in Arkansas do not put the boys in ’school’:

LITTLE ROCK, Ark. (AP) - Ten children at a day care center drank windshield wiper fluid after a staffer served it from a container mistaken for Kool-Aid and placed in a refrigerator, authorities said Friday. The day care owner surrendered her state license Friday. Doctors estimate the children, ages 2 to 7, drank about an ounce of the blue fluid late Thursday afternoon before realizing it tasted wrong, said Laura James, a pediatric pharmacologist and toxicologist at Arkansas Children’s Hospital in Little Rock.

Smart kids there in Arkansas.

“What a good parent am I” by the CEO.

Scene: Kjel.org eating dinner a few nights ago.

Jr. VP: [Has empty milk glass in front of him. Tries to take a drink but gets nothing] Ahhh, what the hell?

The CFO and I look at each other. She decides to take a run at it.

CFO: No, no, don’t say that, we say ‘what the heck’.

Jr. VP: You say ‘what the heck’. I say ‘what the hell.’

The CEO had to excuse himself, as the lad’s logic was unassailable. Also I didn’t want him to see me laugh. I mean really, what the fuck else was I supposed to do at that point?

Ah, the sweet relief of baseball — might allow me to relax a little bit and forget everything else now going on in the world.

Griffey’s first game as a Mariner (2nd time around version) on TV tonight. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. The Jr. VP is a lefty too, so I need him to watch the other Jr. a little bit and see if he can’t imitate that swing — he’ll be a lot better served by that instead of watching his old man take cuts with a bat. First pitch is at 6:05 on Fox Sports Net.

On the way home after lunch today I saw a new Dodge Charger on the road. Weird for me to say about an American car, but CEO wants. Badly. I have no need for a muscle car, it is not especially practical, and when the hell am I ever going to get to open it up? Doesn’t matter; I can sweep all those questions aside pretty easily — the CEO’s brain is powerful that way.

Maybe I buy one for the CFO? It’s either that, an F-650, or a Hummer for her next ride. Not sure which she would prefer.

I may have found my next wife. Here she is.

1. Behold, Fort Chewbacca! The Jr. VP also refers to it as Fort Mulkie. The VP is in charge of naming it, not me. He can call it whatever he wants.

Nothing like taking some blankets and a small tent and creating a “fort” in the living room. The Jr VP spent last night defending it from all sorts of attacks from Daddy and the AK. It remains standing; me and the Intern are still probing for weaknesses and should have this thing defeated soon. Our siege engine should be completed any day now, and we are just now finding the range with our catapults.

2. When I picked up the boys from ’school’ today the owner made me sign a document acknowledging that they had informed me of an injury the AK sustained earlier in the day. Apparently the little dude got too excited and ran off some stairs, planting his face into the corner of a wall at the bottom. He had a big bump on his forehead and a black eye, but he seemed fine otherwise. The daycare ladies seemed more upset than I thought neccesary, so I have a feeling that the injury itself was worse than they let on. The Jr. VP backs me up on this one: he says that there was quite a bit of blood involved, but the ladies at school didn’t mention that. Not sure who to believe on this one. Probably the ladies — the VP can be quite a storyteller at times.

3. There are coyotes that routinely move around in the woods behind our house — I heard them again today when I got home from work. Coyotes have a very distinctive call, and it drives the neighborhood dogs absolutely batshit insane. Are coyotes dangerous? The woods I am talking about come right up to our back yard, and my kids like to play in the back yard. Can a coyote eat a 4-year-old? I might set some traps out just in case. Anybody need a coyote pelt?

4. At certain times the Jr. VP decides he is no longer human and can only speak in “puppy”. Oddly enough, “puppy” can be either English or Spanish, but must be spoken in the following convention: “Ruff ruff, Daddy, ruff, turn on the, ruff, ruff, TV. Ruff”. Similarly “Ruff, ruff, neccesito comer, ruff, ruff.” He will not listen unless you respond in kind. The ‘word’ Ruff has been said quite a few times at the HQ in recent days. Ruff ruff, I’m tired, ruff, of this game! Jr. doesn’t care.

More pictures from the vault. So when are we buying another beerpong table for the Chief Educator?

Nice Nuggets shirt. You lose a bet or something? And I acquired that glass at the Great British Beer Festival in 1999. Somewhere in Ohio there is one just like it — you be careful with it.

Finally, one from way, way back in the day. Back when I lived by a biker bar and the city of Seattle still had a basketball team. Even if their fans rarely did laundry.

The Jr. VP and I played a game tonight where he was “The Cannon Ball Shooter” and I was “Daddy-Homer”. We recently watched a portion of a DVD containing this scene:

Yes, I was wearing goggles and shirtless. No, the CFO was not home at the time. Why do you ask?

Stay on your toes, people: the monkeys are up to something.

Woodland Park Zoo shut down briefly by loose monkey
The Woodland Park Zoo was evacuated and locked down this morning after a small monkey escaped from an enclosure and ran off, zoo officials said.The Woodland Park Zoo was evacuated and locked down this morning after a small monkey escaped from an enclosure and ran off, zoo officials said. By 11:25 a.m., zookeepers had found the 12-year-old male Debrazza’s monkey named Riktus and hit it with a tranquilizer dart, said zoo spokesman David Schaefer. No one was injured and there was no indication anyone was in any danger, he said. The zoo has been reopened.

CHIMP VICTIM HANGING ONTO LIFE
The Connecticut woman viciously attacked by a 200-pound chimp who inexplicably went bananas remains in critical condition this afternoon and faces “life-changing, if not life-threatening injuries” to her face and hands, officials said. The chimpanzee, named Travis, was shot dead by police in Stamford after the violent rampage Monday left a friend of its owner badly mauled. Sandra Herold, who owned the 15-year-old chimp, wrestled with the animal after it attacked her friend, Charla Nash, 55.

. . .

“There was no provocation that we know of,” said Conklin. “One thing that we’re looking into is that we understand the chimpanzee has Lyme disease and has been ill from that, so maybe from the medications he was out of sorts. We really don’t know.” After the 3:30 p.m. attack, Travis ran away and started roaming Herold’s property until police arrived - setting up security so medics could reach the critically injured woman. But the chimpanzee returned and went after several of the officers, who retreated into their cars. Travis knocked the mirror off a cruiser before opening its door and starting to get in, trapping the cop. That officer shot the chimpanzee several times. “The animal had cornered him,” Conklin said. “He had no other recourse.”

The wounded chimpanzee fled the scene, but Conklin said police were able to follow the trail of his blood down a driveway, into the open door of the home, through the house and to his living quarters, where he died of his wounds. Herold and two officers also suffered minor injuries. Cops had dealt with the chimp in the past - including an incident in 2003 when he escaped from his owners’ car in downtown Stamford for two hours. At the time, officers used cookies, macadamia nuts and ice cream in an attempt to lure him, but subdued him only after he became too tired to resist.

At the time of the 2003 incident, police said the Herold assured them that the chimpanzee - who was toilet trained, dressed himself, took his own bath, ate at the table and drank wine from a glass - was not a threat to others. Colleen McCann, a primatologist at the Bronx Zoo, said chimps are unpredictable and dangerous even after living among humans for years. “They are unpredictable, and in instances like this you cannot control that behavior or prevent it from happening if it is in a private home,” she said.

The CEO was on the phone with his mom the other day.

CEO’s Mom: By the way, why have you quit updating Kjel.org?

CEO: Umm, what?

CEO’s Mom: You know, your website? I like reading it.

CEO: Oh God.

As of today Kjel.org is back. I’m sorry I’ve been away so long, but it has been a very tough and busy month or two. I feel like I’ve been fighting to keep up ever since that December snowstorm and then the week away from work. Added to that is the illness of certain members of Kjel.org, the CFO being very busy, layoffs at my office, trips to L.A. and the general state of the world and whatnot. I hate excuses, so please treat the above just as an explanation.

Anyway, last time I checked in here Kjel.org had just safely arrived in Bellevue for Christmas with my parents. Everything was nice, as usual, and a fun time was had by all. A certain boy had spent many a snow day watching Star Wars movies (the other day he was riding in the car with me and the Chief Educator and pointed at us and said Look, two Jabba the Hutts!) and now enjoys pretending he is characters from the movies. This gift was a huge hit:

On Christmas Day Kjel.org headed to Kihei with the CFO’s family. Here are two boys eating breakfast on the deck of our condo:

A couple of more views from our condo:

The CFO hanging ten. Shaka!

The CFO at lunch in Lahaina. Note the bottle and the margerita on the table. One often neccesitated the other.

The trip was great and we did all kinds of stuff. We ate out at some good restaraunts, drove around the island, went snorkelling and surfing and played on the beach with the lads and all in all had a fun time. We spent New Years on the beach watching fireworks. The CFO discovered that the worst hangover in the world comes from mixing rum with POG. The week went by very fast.

Aside from the Superbowl, the rest of January sort of sucked.

I finally feel like I am out of my funk and getting a bit back to normal. Remembering to play everyday with a certain couple of boys whether I feel like it or not is certainly helpful, as well as is having a bit more confidence now that I will remain employed for the foreseeable future. Someday, perhaps I can combine playing and my work:

Standard Kjel.org content (monkeys, Mariners, boys, CEO stupidity, etc) will now resume.

Quick notes from the last week or so:

last Monday: The CEO went to work no problem. I do not count fishtailing in various parking lots and almost killing the lot of us (sans CFO) Hazzard County style at the bottom of our hill as a problem.

Tuesday: Me and the CFO both took the day off. Getting out of the HQ was treacherous but we made it. We went downtown and did Santa pics at Macy’s with the lads. Santa pics on a Tuesday morning is the best thing in the world — we were second in line when we arrived at Santaland. After the pictures were done we dropped off the smaller half of Kjel.org at ’school’, went shopping, stopped at Red Robin for drinks and burgers, shopped some more, and then finally picked up the youngsters and headed home. Barely. During that particular journey back to the HQ I put the red Suby into the guardrail at the bottom of my street. At least it was close enough so that the rest of Kjel.org could walk up to the house and I could sit in the car and swear by myself. I prefer to not speak of it further, except please know that it was only paint, and some quick work with a shovel allowed me to in fact park in my own driveway. Tuesday was a continuation of Monday’s “learning day” with the Red Suby: I’ve never actually driven it in serious snow. I know now very well exactly what it can (and definitely can’t) do in these kind of conditions.

Wednesday and Thursday: These days have blurred together. Typically I would go to work, it would start to snow, I (or more accurately the CFO) would freak out and then I’d leave the office early. One day I swung by the hardware store on the way home and bought 100 pounds of gravel which I then applied to the curve below my driveway. I think the neighbors were impressed. Maybe next year I’ll get a plow attachment for the Suby.

The CFO and the boys for the most part stayed home and played in the snow and watched videos and played games inside. The Jr. VP has been watching a lot of Star Wars and Simpsons videos lately. Yesterday he told me that he wished we had an AT-AT to drive in the snow. I told him that is was impossible for me to more completely agree, and that we would get that rebel scum yet. Kjel.org cabin fever level? Moderate.

Friday: I was unable to speak for several hours on Friday, since at 4:00 PM on that day I did the unthinkable: I went to Fred Meyer. Insanity of a high order, and I blame the elderly (as I do for most things). I came as close as I ever have to shoving a 75 year old woman into a display of canned goods. Along with the rest of us normal folk engaged in garden variety panic buying, there were dozens and dozens of old timers that seemed to be treating the Fred Meyer as a social club. Us young’uns were in a hurry to get our supplies and get the hell out. They blue hair set was not. Seriously: Gram, don’t park your cart in front of the cheese selection to chat with Ethyl and Murtice when the CEO is trying to shop and then get home. Sorry about your foot.

Saturday: It snowed. A lot. There was no way in hell we were getting out of our driveway over the weekend. Thanks to my Friday sacrifice we had plenty of people food, baby food, beer, and “projects” as the CFO calls them: one project was her and the Jr. VP making homemade ravioli. That took a good three hours or so. and other necessities, so we just hunkered down. We tried to play outside a few times but it was just too damn cold, and the snow was now layered with ice and impossible for the kids to play on without constant faceplants. That made it a little bit less fun.

Sunday: Repeat. The Jr. VP and I watched quite a few Simpsons dvd’s. One we watched (Lisa the Vegetarian) contained the following exchange:

People sitting everywhere, eating. Homer fills the grill with lighter
fluid and prepares to grill.

Lisa: Wait Dad! Good news, everyone! You don’t have to eat meat!
I’ve got enough gazpacho for everyone. [Crowd murmurs.] It’s
tomato soup, served ice cold! [Crowd laughs out loud.]
Barney: Go back to Russia!

I made the mistake of laughing at the “Go back to Russia!” line and the Jr. VP picked up on it. Later that day the CFO pointed to Jr. and said Hey, pick up your coat please! Jr. looked her in the eye and exclaimed Go back to Russia! The CFO was not amused. I am an absolutely outstanding parent.

The CFO spent the day packing and preparing for our trip north to Bellevue, and then our trip west to Maui on Christmas day. I think if we hadn’t have had those type of preparations to make the insanity levels at the HQ would have been even higher. Kjel.org cabin fever level? High.

Monday: This day shall be remembered as “The Day the CEO Saved Christmas (2008 edition)”. It snowed overnight again and was snowing when I got up. After watching the news and looking at our road the CFO and I realized that there was no possible way, even with shoveling, that we were getting out of our neighborhood without chains. I made some calls. Unsurprisingly, most places nearby were out chains. Then on a whim I called my mechanic, hoping that maybe Metro Car Care might also stock chains. The owner Kirk picked up on the first ring, and within 30 seconds we established that he has chains in stock that fit the Red Suby. I tell him that I can be there in an hour. He says that they are not really open and that he is just there with his son collecting mail and making sure the building is OK, and that they are leaving in five minutes. Where do you live? Can I deliver them to you?. Oh Kirk. You had me at “I have chains that fit your car.” Anyway, 15 minutes later I met him down at the Papa Murphy’s and got my new chains. I’m connected in this town, what can I say? Seriously, Metro is the best auto shop in town and I cannot recommend them highly enough. And they are by the Old Barn so you have somewhere to wait while your car is being worked on. I had my chains. Awesome.

The walk back up the hill returning to the HQ? Misery. I considered laying down a few times to rest thinking I could attempt the summit later in the day, but I am not sure I would have woken up from that rest. About 3/4 of the way to the top I collapsed I thought that it might be curtains for the CEO, but a friendly St Bernard showed up and licked my face a few times and woke me up. And you would never believe the tasty beverage in the cask he was carrying around his neck . . .

I may have hallucinated that last part. During the walk I am certain that I did see a dog and drink from a flask though.

I pretty much spent the entire day acquiring chains, shoveling snow (the CFO did some shoveling too), moving the Suby into the garage and then figuring out how to get the chains on. I am optimistic that we are getting out of the neighborhood tomorrow. Really the only question now is how much damage does the Suby sustain during the trip to Bellevue. I’m gonna hedge and go with minimal.

Kjel.org will do Christmas in Bellevue on Wednesday, then on Thursday fly to Maui with the CFO’s family. We’ll be back home in January, with obligations behind us and ready to party. Ask Aki about the plans for early January. Karaoke anyone? Also, a warning for certain gentlemen: I’ve begun thinking about bacon. Three times more than I usually do during on an average day during the rest of the year. There might be something special this Superbowl, stay tuned.

So, to you and yours from Kjel.org, however it may apply, please have a: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwazy Kwanzaa, Fine Festivus, and/or a Happy New Year. See you in 2009!

The CEO should absolutely not be at work right now. Risking my own life out on the roads today just to get to the office is bad enough. It is my life to risk after all, and in certain situations (say, punching out a shark that is trying to eat the CFO, or, like last summer when I had to fight that family of badgers that was trying to kidnap the Jr. VP. What is it with him and badgers?) I’m happy to pays my money and takes my chances if need be. Getting to the office shouldn’t be one of those situations.

What is most uncool about this morning is that not only did I nearly buy it out on the road, but I nearly took the Jr. VP and his Intern with me. After walking up and down the street below my house, I got the idea in my head that the ice was crunchy enough so that the red Suby could maintain traction. The Jr VP was in the front seat (the back door where his kid-seat was frozen shut. Perhaps I should have viewed that as a sign of some sort?) when we pulled out of the driveway. We went down the hill as slow as absolutely possible. Everything was fine until about 30 feet from Garden Home at the bottom. The Suby broke loose at this point and was going to slide across Garden Home and into the woods below, that is, unless we were hit by someone driving on Garden Home first. “Was going to” being the key phrase there: the CEO knows that if your brakes don’t work you really oughtta try the gas. The result? A Dukes of Hazzard style power-slide from 49th onto Garden Home, and the Jr. VP learning to yell “Yee-YEE-YEEHAH!”

I really should have turned around but there was no way to make it back up that piece of hill. Plus, since we were all dressed and committed to school and work I thought I should press on. School is normally a 5 minute drive. Roughly 20 today, since on hills I normally drive 50 mph down I instead kept it in 1st gear. I finally arrived at the office to learn that I was one of three people who made it in today. It’s not like I am impressing the boss or anything since my boss is in L.A. — I should have stayed home.

I’ve got a lot of stuff to write about (the aftermath from the Ale Fest, crazy kids, the CFO’s Birthday Jamberoo, Kjel.org’s response to Arctic Hellstorm 2008) but can’t seem to get it done. Maybe tonight.

What really makes this story is the quote from the neighbor:

A husband who used his semi-naked wife for target practice with an air rifle has been jailed.
Vedran Ribaric, 26, forced wife Mirna to strip to her knickers and run round her garden while he took pot shots at the terrified woman. He even persuaded the frightened 23-year-old to pose provocatively while he took aim. Ribaric was jailed for three and a half years for torture at Zapresic in Croatia. A neighbour said: “Shooting at a beautiful woman like her is crazy. Couldn’t he have practised on a wild pig like everyone else?

I want to move to Croatia. Or at least visit.

Happy birthday CFO!

Above is a picture of her and me at the Oregon coast at some point in the mid-90’s — excellent times for a fledgling Kjel.org. It occasionally occurs to me that I am very, very fortunate to have found and married someone I’m both in love with and like quite a bit, and who cuts me a significant amount of slack. Significant. Love you, CFO. Thank you for everything.

As I understand it the CFO turns either 27 or 28 tomorrow. Man, time flies.

The long weekend:

Wednesday: Ow, my balls! Me, the CFO and the Jr VP went to the doctor that afternoon. Turns out that Stinkboy is gonna need a minor operation to repair an almost-hernia. On Wednesday when the good doctor was describing (and using visual aids) to impart exactly what he was going to do to Jr’s cojones, the CEO went pale, broke out in a cold sweat and almost passed out. I briefly thought the smelling salts were going to be required. I need to stop now — I can barely even think about it enough to write about it without bringing on a fainting episode.

Thursday: Oh. Hi. The CEO’s three sisters and assorted relations were in town for Turkey Day this year. Awesome. The house was full. Then the doorbell rings: “Surprise! My parents snuck into town after saying they would be staying in California. I’m not sure why any of the kids ever believed that they would stay down there; in retrospect there is no way that the CEO’s Mom would allow the kids to gather without being there herself. Turned out to be a lovely Thanksgiving, but one with almost no leftovers — the CEO’s Dad can EAT!

Friday: Meat. Beer. On Friday me and a few sisters and one of their dates went all the way out to Gartners Meat Market on the other side of town. They were impressed. I stocked up, to the extent that Gartners gave me a giant free summer sausage as a thank you gift. Good folk, the meat people. Then we ate lunch at Rogue and drove around town drinking beer at various establishments. At least we tried to: quite a few places were closed Friday afternoon. Weird. We still got our fill though.

Saturday: Damn it, Beavs. Our guests all left and I spent most of the day getting the house back to normal. I snuck over to Chief Educators late to watch a little bit of the football game, but had to get back to help the CFO. By Saturday night she was desperately in need of a spa day. All she got was me coming home early. Sorry CFO.

Sunday: Stimulating the economy We took what has become the usual Sunday trip to the grocery store to refill the pantry and bolster the staples (ie beer and Diet Coke). Once the groceries were home and the kids taking their naps, the CFO did the unthinkable: she went to Toys R Us to Christmas shop. I got a panicky call while she was in the store, ending with “I’ve got to get out of here — this is MAKING ME CRAZY!!”. She finished her toy shopping in the relative sanity of the Target.

So Thanksgiving 2008 has come and gone. I think I am still blacking out the fact that Christmas is right around the corner. The Holiday season doesn’t really start for me until I’ve attended the Holiday Ale Fest. That means my Holiday season will start Thursday at about 3:00, and be thoroughly reinforced Saturday at 11:00.

If you can’t guess the things that the CEO are most thankful for on this Thanksgiving then you just haven’t really been paying attention.

It could have been a romantic first or second date for me and the CFO, except for one little thing . . .

Tuesday of last week marked the 8th anniversary of the Wedding Of The Century (me and the CFO in case you were wondering) and last night we actually went out to celebrate the occasion. To me it feels like our wedding was about 4 months ago; the CFO would probably say 4 decades. Anyway, I thought it was a good time to take the little lady out on the town — she deserves it.

Through some good luck at work the CFO had come into possession of a gift certificate to Bluehour so that’s where we decided to dine. It was excellent, and I really can’t recommend it highly enough. I ordered the chef’s menu for myself, which actually worked out to be a great value: the CFO and I shared the cheese and dessert portions that came with my four course dinner, and she just ordered salad and an entrée. We had lamb and pork and excellent salads and cheese and so forth, and the service was exceedingly professional and the room was beautiful. In a town with as much good eating as Portland, I think Bluehour gets overlooked. But man I was glad we had that gift certificate. Even with our strategic ordering, dinner was not cheap. The drinks didn’t help the final number on the bill either . . .

Somebody at the Oregonian watches the Simpsons. I was perusing the classifieds the other day and saw a dozen or so ads in the “Tree Services” section. Two, however, were prominent and next to each other: One for a Mr. Tree and the other for The Tree King. +1 to my nerdliness for recognizing the joke; well played by an intern at the Oregonian I am guessing.

The CEO is coming up from underwater and will have much more for you here soon. The last week or two has been fairly insane for me, what with the CFO’s brother’s wedding, the CFO working late, the kids being sick, my work (my employer announced a new CEO today; as you might imagine there has been some tumolt in the Kjel.org CEO’s workplace lately) and everything else going on in the world (I’m looking in your direction, Chosen One aka Pres-elect Obama). Anyway, back to normal soon.

Everyone should please remember to keep Saturday Dec 6th open . I will be there when it opens at 11:00. I hope to see all of you.

Oddly enough I have also been asked to lead a “team-building trip” to the same beerfest earlier in the week, and be responsible for the mug and ticket buying for our office. Weird how those sorta things work out. I will do my best to lead the event, but if we just so happen to have any spare tickets left over after the exercise is done who knows what will happen to them . . .

Monday already. Fuck.

At lunch talk turned (as it often does) to beer and other spiritous beverages. I learned today that apparently, if you know the right code words to use, you can buy a micro-distillery apparatus at local homebrew stores. It is marketed as either a water purifier or a hop oil extractor, but kept behind the counter — you have to know how to ask for it.

It has always been my dream to have a poker shack out in the swamp with an attached moonshine making operation (I watched way too much Dukes of Hazzard as a kid). Acquiring one of these devices would be a small but tangible step toward fulfilling a dream. Mmmmmm, white lightning. I think I know what I am doing next weekend. Now if only I could get my hands on a souped up ‘69 Dodge Charger and some dynamite tipped arrows . . .

I’d like to remind everyone that dissent is still the highest form of patriotism. Question Authority!

Personally, I’d be delighted to live in a country where happily married gay couples had closets full of assault weapons.
- Glenn Reynolds

Of course I voted this year, and not just for the West Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District Director either. I often have a tough time voting; very rarely are my personal views adequately represented anywhere. Mr. Reynolds’ quote above is pretty much a high-proof distillation of my political thinking, as if it matters or anyone cares.

Unfortunately I am afraid that we are instead about to see Mr. Churchill’s quote in action today:

Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those others that have been tried.
- Winston Churchill

I hung up the flag at the HQ this morning before I left, this being Election Day, the epitome of America and all. And to remind myself that whatever happens today the Republic will endure and the sun will still rise tomorrow. Even so I’m nervous. I’ve got a bad feeling the country is about to make a huge mistake. I hope I’m wrong on that, whoever wins, but like I said, I’m worried I’m not.

It is easy for a certain type of person to say I’m moving to [blank] if my guy doesn’t win in the run up to an election. I can’t say that. The USA is it for me; there is no where else on the planet for a person like me to go. Until I have enough money to buy an island, anyway, or successfully mount a coup somewhere.

Chief Edumacator, remind me in about eight years to anonymously mail this to a certain Beaverton lad.