Woohoo!












Check out my ninos! I'm a pre-school teacher this year. At least from 8-12. I've got a class of brillant and busy three year olds. There is less pottying and more conversation than I had anticipated (most of my class is in Spanish and I'm just about on a three year olds level... so we have some good chats over snack).



My job for this year has been up in the air... and yes it's the second week of school. Jesse is settled and concrete in his coordinating and directing spiritual lives here at Santiago Christian School. The question has been what's to fill my afternoons. Surprise... I've got Carolina back. It was decided today that I will in fact have a prelude to a special education class in the afternoons with David and Carolina together. Wonders never cease. I'm sure there is much adventure in store.

Hi. Look I'm In A Hurricane

Hi. My Jeep Could Eat Yours

That Baby Looks Like Lyndon Johnson

In case the news has yet to reach you, there is in fact a small child growing on the insides of my wife. This was confirmed again just yesterday with this smashing photo of the little tot. He/she's that blob favoring the left side of Chel's uterus. We were treated to a live viewing of a head, two arms and legs and a great looking heartbeat.

I celebrated by treating my wife to fast food and an Adam Sandler movie. I can only assume my prowess at husbandry will carry over smoothly into fatherhood.

Your prayers are coveted.

I'm In Texas...Guess What I'm Doing Today.

...and I'm not even kidding.

Coming to America

Actually, we've already arrived.

We were here.
















But now we've made it to the land of cheap gas (cheaper anyway), the family fridge, conditioned air, thick steaks, sealed windows and Larry's margaritas. This feels very nice.

We have chosen the theme of 'comfort' for this summer's vacation to the states. Due to stated theme, you are likey to experience a reduction in tid-bitting on this blog. In place of the bits, perhaps we can go for coffee and have a chat? meet for drinks and have a rant? grab a sonic beverage and layout? pack a lunch and have some frisbee golf? buy a $10 beer and watch a baseball game? or, my favorite, have margarita and shop for shoes? Whatever your fancy.

666-Silly:Foghorn Leghorn and Egghead Jr. Bring You The End of The World

(Open on Foghorn and Egghead Jr. strolling out of the hen house. Foghorn is happy to be rid of Miss Prissy, despite her request that he take Egghead along. Egghead walks, feet a blurr, with his head in a book.)

Foghorn: Now pay attention boy. I'ma, I say, I'ma gonna show you a rooster's purpose in life. (tip-toes past Henry's doghouse towards corn crop) Sweet lord its the promised land! Now watch closely boy. (takes ear of corn, sniffs and licks it as if a fine cigar, inserts and removes from mouth revealing the now bare ear) Mmm, mmm, mmm! Nothing better than some fine southern sweet corn! (begins to gather a teetering stack of ears nearly twenty feet tall in his arms) Now boy...

Egghead: (inputting data into calculator)

Foghorn: Now boy that's no way to stack corn! Like this son, like this! (swats at calculator and throws several ears at Egghead, all of which land perfectly balanced atop his small head, according to his precise calculations, Foghorn blinks with astonishment) Well that's not too bad for your first time son. But remember...what in Sam Hill....!!???

(The earth begins to tremble. Foghorn begins to run in panicked circles. Egghead begins typing on his Powerbook.)

Foghorn: This, I say, this is no time for your video box boy! (While the earth still trembles wildly Egghead shows Foghorn the computer. It says: EARTHQUAKE!) Earthquake!!? Naw son you got it all wrong see...

(The ground beneath them begins to split. Foghorn quickly climbs a tree far too small for him. His weight bends the tree to the ground leaving him right where he started. Egghead quickly constructs a jet pack fueled on ears of corn, leaving him hovering perfectly safe a few feet from the widening fissure in the earth's surface.)

Foghorn: It's splitting straight through to China boy! Watch yerself! Chinamen! Chinamen! Me so soddy! Me so soddy! (Foghorn runs around wildy, bowing occasionally to anything he runs in to. Egghead continues to quietly observe the great hole in the earth and the putrid steam that has now begun to rise from it.) Good heavens son! Smells riper than a coonhound's tail side. Excuse, I said, excuse yerself boy!

(Suddenly out of the dark expanse appears the Great Beast. Foul steam rises from its every orifice. The whore of Babylon is upon its back. Behind the beast follow legions of undead servants of the Enemy.)

Foghorn: They've come for the hens son! Its time, I say, its time to strap up your boots and put in some overtime! Lemme show's ya how it's done!(He pushes the feathers on his arms up as if they were sleeves and begins to march determinedly towards the oncoming hordes of hell.)

Egghead: (Rapidly flipping pages in an oversized volume of scriptures he pulled from nowhere. He finds a passage: "Then I saw another beast, coming out of the earth..." Egghead quickly runs to Foghorn showing him the passage.)

Foghorn: Now step, I say step aside son, there's a whuppin to be had! Awe...what is it boy?

Egghead: (Pointing to the passage from Revelation. Foghorn reads slowly, muttering, although loud enough for us to hear him struggle with a few words.)

Foghorn: Boy that's a bunch of fiddely-poo. Now let me, I say let me show you how to defend a henhouse! The womens love the hero type son! (A great shadow begins to appear around Foghorn. He pauses.) Now, who, I say, who pulled the shades down on me?

Egghead: (Pointing to the same passage of scripture concerning the beast. Foghorn leans in and reads the rest: "...and he performed great signs and miracles, even calling down FIRE FROM HEAVEN! Revelation 13:11-13")

(Forhorn looks helplessly in the direction of the camera, holding up a little sign that reads "Sinners Repent!" He is then crushed by a giant ball of heavenly fire. His singed body remains standing after the blast still holding the sign that now reads "S e r pent!")


(New scene.)


(Foghorn and Egghead hide behind a large rock. Foghorn observes as the forces of evil sweep through the farm claiming various livestock's eternal souls. Egghead continues to consult his book and appears to be holding a small vile of water.)

Foghorn: Now boy, here's, I say, here's what were a gonna do...(notices Egghead still reading)Awe now son your going about this all wrong! (Foghorn swats at the book and the vile of water. Egghead desperately goes after the vile, juggling it a bit at first and then securing it with a gasp and a wipe of the brow. In the midst of Egghead saving the water, neither he or Foghorn have noticed that the Great Beast out of the Earth has snuck up behind them.) Just what good do you think a dab of plain ol' southern' sipping water is gonna do against a foul smelling, scale wearing, pile of putrid pig slop like that big...(sniffing the air, notices a foul smell)...that big...(reaches out behind him feeling blindly around)...big..(touches the Great Beast's face, moving his hand until he finds the "horns like that of a lamb")...eep!

(Foghorn turns coming face to face with Hell's minion. The Beast holds a scroll. Written upon it is: "I hunger for the souls of the eternally damned."

Foghorn: (Nervously) Eternally damned!!? Why, I'm not the eternally damned you nimwitt! (He slaps the Beast across the face in a knock-some-sense-into-him type fashion.) That there is the Eternally Damned!!! (Points towards Henry the dog, who somehow is sleeping through all this peacefully, chained to his house.)

(The Great Beast shows Foghorn another scroll. It says: "Thank you." The Beast moves towards Henry.)

Foghorn: (Proudly) Hehehe. You see son, the trick, I say, the trick is being smarter than the Apocalypto! (He notices Egghead, still with the vile of water, reading instructions of some kind. They read: "Acme Holy Water. For use with exorcisms, baptisms, vampires and the end of the world. Warning! Not effective unless blessed!" Egghead bows his head and mutters an inaudible string of words and quickly shuffles off towards the Beast.) Naw son, that's not, I say, your'e goin about this all wrong!

(Egghead sneaks up behind the Beast of Hell who is busy sucking the very soul out of Henry the dog's lifeless body. He drops a single drop of water from the vile onto the tail of the monster. The water hits with a hiss. The Great Beast turns upon itself bringing its head around to its tail and peers at Egghead. He sees the vile labeled Holy Water. Egghead politely waves. The Beast looks towards the camera, eyes wide and disappears into a puff of smoke. As the smoke dissipates we see a small can teetering where the Beast once was. The can reads: "Acme: Beast of the Apocalypse." Egghead quickly constructs a large canon out of spare parts, calibrates it to the setting of "Mars", inserts the can and fires it. Foghorn approaches.)

Foghorn: Well son,(slapping Egghead on the back, knocking him down) it sure was, I say it sure was a good thing I came along when I did. I put that eternal snake in his place I tells ya! (He begins to hop around, boxing the air.) Yessir! The end of the world? Not on my watch I tells ya! Not while I'm aruugghh..(Foghorn is cut off by the now undead and souless version of Henry the dog, who has snuck up behind him and taken him by the throat.)

Forhorn: eep!

Egghead: (Holds up a sign. It reads: "Sinners Repent".)

If only comic book heros wore great shoes!

I have only recently ventured into the world of comic book characters... via the esposo. I've actually seen EVERY movie in the last 15 months that is based on a comic book. I find it all very interesting. The story lines, the super powers, the whatnot. I think Batman really got the bottom of the barrel when it came to super powers (though Jesse keeps trying to convince me Batman is some kind of super-ninja and could probably beat Spiderman). So this is fun... I'm enjoying this... only, I think the movies would be more fun to watch if the superheros wore really great shoes (excluding Sin City because even I was too distracted to notice the 4 inch stilettos on the hookers). After all, while Jesse was collecting comic books as a youngster, I was collecting shoes. If there were more really great shoes in comic book movies, take Wonder Woman's killer boots for example, this would be the perfect collision of interests.

Below are my recommendations taken from the Santiago Christian School 2006 Junior/Senior Banquet... where, once again, I amused myself in the void of quality entertainment by looking for really great shoes. [kevin you might want to divert your eyes on this one dear]

Second World Good Times

These are....



the things we do...









for fun.











(keep in mind... we have no TV, have never seen even /A/ episode of Lost or 24 or Scrubs or whatever it is you watch. We did however just see x-men 3... disappointing.)

Actor Paul Gleason Dies At Age 62 (myles remix)

"Eternity Vernon. Your ass is mine for all eternity pal."
-God

Cross Cultural Communication

sigh. i have a student. no, literally. i only have A, as in one, student. we've had some good times and we've had some bad times. it's been a bumpy year. a major contributor to the rustle is the fact her father writes the answers on her homework. now, i appreciate the fact that he writes very lightly and small so that my student can erase the evidence easily. only she's not very good at erasing... and her hard, bold writing doesn't completely cover over his 'help'. so today, yet again, we discussed that someone else doing your homework is called 'cheating' and it's a 'bad choice.' my student likes to refer to it as a 'mistake'. i'm trying to nip that idea in the butt. i've become quite a failure at it thus far.

we are struggling these waning academic days. she's coming off medication for the summer and i'm somewhat at a loss on what to do. this afternoon i asked her to write 5 Goals for the End of School. i wanted to find what five things she would like to work on for these next two weeks and feel accomplished in completing. you know... end the year on a good note. They are as follows:

1. not shit
2. write my name in crsive
3. learn mutiplication tabels
4. draw better
5. play dogball better


[edit: 1. i believe she meant cheat but i can't be sure 5. a reference to dodgeball]

Game Seven Pix

We've heard it all before and I can assure you that before the night is over we will hear it a thousand times from every sports depot from cable to am radio:

Home teams take game seven 82 percent of the time.

A big number. But oddly enough a number that may inspire hope for Dallas; 82 percent may swing favor towards the Spurs, but at least its a smaller number than 100:

Mavs choke in games like this against the Spurs 100 percent of the time.

So, I'll take my chances with 82. Jet storms back with vengeance, a fresh headband and 28 to compliment Dirk's double-double. To clarify, that's:
82x>100 when x=28+2(2).

Science has shown, Mavs take game seven.



















And as for the Suns-Clippers wrap, that game starts at like 11pm where I live. I'll be in bed.

Suns, cuz a home team's gotta win one of these games.


And in a real shocker, due to unexpectedly high box office sales of the DaVinci Code, I'm calling for Jesus by sun-up.

Let's All Go To The Drive-In

"Stan! You made it. Get over here. Whoa! 'What Would Jesus Read.' Nice! Hey, Kellerman totally came through with the effigies. You want a Hanks or Brown or a Howard?"

"Um, I'll take a Hanks. Sorry I'm late."

"Traffic?"

"Poor people. And some widows. I accidentally made eye contact."

"Geez man. That is SO rookie!"

"Yeah."


Yet, the real conspiracy remains:

Substitute

Dear friends,

Jesse has his first Father and Son baseball game this Saturday. I think this is a big deal. I'm not trying to make a mountain from a mole hill... but it's just not everyday a man has his first run around the bases and time at the plate on the same team as his son. It's a special time, sacred I'll venture to say. One thing I have learned from my husband is that baseball is the creme in the oreo that is holding this world together. (Hark, I think I hear the theme song from The Natural playing in the background) The problem is, Jesse is sans son for this Saturday's game. If he had told me earlier the middle school team he coaches was planning a Father/Son game then maybe I could have been better prepared. It's not like I can go out and just buy a son with only a few days notice. sheesh. So herein lies my request...would any of you be able to fill in, or know someone who can? The game is this Saturday at noon. Thanks for your help guys. I hope Jes doesn't have to be the only one out there without a son. I'll owe you one.

Love,
Chels

Blessed are the

peacemakers, for they shall drive really cool cars.















Lauren, Jen, and Cary at the DR/Haiti border

Apparently Arnold Schwarzenegger writes for Dominican Today

Iran says no to girly sportsmen
Tehran.– Iran's hardline Islamic regime has had enough of footballers with long hair and plucked eyebrows.
"I will ban athletes with an effeminate look," the head of the country's Physical Education Organization, Mohammad Ali-Abadi said, told the Etemad-Melli newspaper.
"It is really disgraceful for Iran that young people step onto fields wearing make-up," the top official fumed.
"When a man enters the field with dyed hair and groomed eyebrows he is disrespecting society."
The paper said Ali-Abadi appeared to be particularly worried about footballers, and warned that "even though they get away with it now, they will be disqualified in the future". As reported on Dominican TodayGoodness... I mean, forget just reading Lolita in Tehran... that country is out of control. Good thing the regime is cracking down. Good thing those fuming regime-ies are going to kick out those who affront society with their effeminine girly man junk. Whew. Though, I like a man with a nice set of eyebrows. I didn't even know nicely groomed eyebrows were disrespectful to society. I guess you really do learn something new everyday. Unibrow or die... or disqualify!

Thank You

365 plus one.

Thank you Chels. For the patience. For the friendship. For the sanity.

Thank you most of all for revelation. Never in my life have I seen a clearer picture of who God is and His intentions towards me than I have seen in you. You've unlocked all kind of deep magic baby.

Thank you Chels.

I love you.

Happy Mexican Friend Day

I have an amiga... she is Mexican, at least by half. I've known her a long time and she has been so kind as to share her heritage with me.

It was at her beseeching that I took my first shot and learned the burning-salt-sour sequence. Vive Mexico! It was through her that I came to truly appreciate May 5, 18-something... when Mexico kicked the French to the curb. I learned this was a feat quite worthy of celebration and thus, my dear mexicana, I, and other friends have been known to fill the trunk of a Cadillac with beer and ice and set up a margarita blending station on a washing machine... all in celebration of Mexican Independence! Vive Cadillac trunk space!

Last year my dear mexicana threw me a party on the 5th of May. She brushed honoring her culture aside and instead, put all her energy into celebrating me and the fact that I would soon be a married senorita. I even got a call from Mexico who was, naturally, quite pissed I was stealing the limelight.

On Cinco de Drinko last year, almost all the women I've come to love in this little life of mine gathered into one beautiful room. It was a great gift. It is something I treasure everyday. It is worthy of celebrating. Those moments in that evening have lingered longer than any tequila hangover ever could. Gloria santos!



Sigh... This year there is no Cadillac, my right hand is missing a margarita, I gave up tequila shots shortly after the first one and I miss my dear mexicana. She is close to the Motherland of Mexico and I am a gulf away (in fact there is not even a blender or washing machine close by.)

Instead of celebrating Mexico today, I am going to celebrate my dear mexicana. She is a deep soul, a good time, and a person of warmth and life... she finds joy and she looks for good... and she is so beautiful. I am blessed because this is the legacy women have poured into my life. Praise be.

Open Letter to Visa Inc. From Bono

Dear Ned D'Young, Head of Collection, Visa Inc.

So, there you are Ned. You who have come to square off with, step up to the plate with, finish the drink at the bar and stumble outside with a short Irishman, whose mouth often outruns his ability to follow up, show up, buck up, put the dukes up and scrap. You see, perhaps Irish blokes weren't meant to end up in the south of France, with houses on hills overlooking oceans. It seems that if there was any legacy of fisticuffs running through these mick veins, the servants and limos, private jets and caviar have thinned it far too much for it to be formidable.
But push a man far enough, even a squatty Irish one, and he may just break. The Common Sense of Tommy Pain, King and his dream, Mandela's and Tutu's Africa, all a result of men who were pushed. But the difference between men like these and the likes of the Irish lies in the subtle difference between a push back and the simple suggestion of something radical. In this, perhaps I am fortunate that the slow soak of fortune has softened my thick Dubliner' hide.

You see, I won't push back Ned. I've grown too soft for that. Besides, squaring off against the likes of the Lenons, the Mcartneys, the Jaggers, the Townsends is one thing. But a punk-rock star versus the likes of Visa? I'm afraid I've been writing chart busting pop tunes while you've been literally writing the book on APR and cash-back penalties. No Ned, pushing is not the answer. A push back would leave me decimated like the young girl in Somalia beaten and drugged by democratically funded warlords. Pushing back would leave me dead on the street outside an H-bloc. Pushing back would leave me starving in Abuja while politicians in Nigeria get head from multinational corporations like Shell Oil.
But if not a push then what? Ahhh, welcome to the radical Ned. Radical ideas from radical people all tied to a radius of love. Radical is the kids at Tianamen standing in the face of tanks. Radical is Dr. King sitting as Jim Clark set the dogs on him, forever changing the face of the civil rights movement in America. Radical is a Christ forgiving the very mob that tossed him to his murder.

Radical Ned, tied to a radius of love. Radical, is what I propose today. No shouting. No fighting. No bullying. Simply, radical. A radical elimination of debt. A cancellation of an amount owed. A year of jubilee.

Namely the 3,467.50 owed on my Visa Premium card, along with the 7% interest rate increase scheduled to take effect at the end of the quarter.

And as always, history hinges on the response of the masses, or in this case, the Greater San Fernando and Co. Collection Agency. And you, Ned. You. In the face of radical, how is it you will respond.

Throwing this lifeless lifeline to the wind,
Bono

The Return!

"No. Not today amigos. Today, the Speedy One seets. I seet for Mexico. I seet for mice. I seet so they will take notice."

"But what of that gato? Who weel protect us?"

"Do not fear the gato. Not today amigos. Today it is he who cuts the grass of the gringos."

(explosion of applause)