Any fool can become an ordained minister these days. But it’s just not enough for me. I go for the gusto. By golly I can’t stand waiting to work my way up the top of the food chain, so why can’t I just start there?

Behold, the answer to all my prayers!

I think I will become the God of Agnostics and work out my self esteem issues.

Perhaps I should also become an ordained minister. That way I can go around preaching to others about myself and how great a god I am. Plus, I can absolve all my sins before I die and have no worries. Man, this is great! I should have thought of this earlier. It’s like the best religious loophole ever.

Coming soon to the back of a car near you.

The Christmas spirit has all but shit on my livingroom floor thus far into the holiday season. The radio stations here in Charleston play the worst Christmas music and come across fuzzier than Bush’s speeches. I hung Christmas lights in the living room only to have them collapse on the floor. I even tried self-proclaimed INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH duct tape. Nope, the bastards fell again.

In other news, I was bored at work again and had a good conversation with a good friend of mine named Zach. The Navy oversimplifies everything, and therefore makes it more complicated. For example, a pencil would not be just a “pencil”. The Navy would call it something like “Vertically held, graphite encomposing, wooden inscribing utensil with aft mounted rubber mistake removing device”.

There is a Subway (sub sandwich restaurant for those not in the “know”) on site and we decided to “Nuke out” some common things found within the restaurant. Our mutual favorite and winner was this:

“Carbonic Acid Di-hydrogen Oxide Glucose Mixing Tank Station with Manual Electric Distribution Lever”.

Any guesses as to what it translates to in English?

I discovered this monstrosity at Wal-Mart while searching for the finest white zinfandel the store could offer. I can understand the mystical fascination and excitement that surrounds the enigma that is bottled water, but why would anyone want to bottle it themself? Perhaps to understand the reasons for bottling water, we must first take a look at the reasons for bottled water.

Bottled water is a great idea. Not only because it’s one of the best and legal ways to scam people, but also because it’s a helluva lot easier to carry a gallon of water that is bottled than a gallon that’s not. Have you ever tried to carry a gallon of water without it’s container? It’s a bitch.

That being said, I’ve come up with a comprehensive list of why bottled water is a necessity and why you need to go immediately purchase some.

1.)Terrorism. Terrorists hate water because it reminds them of baths. And terrorists hate baths (Come on, have you ever seen one that looked clean?). A bottle a day keeps a terrorist away.

2.)Hurricanes/Storms/Earthquakes/Emergencies/Natural Disasters/Acts of Deity of Choice
I will admit, even I bought some individually bottled water in the event of a hurricane since I now live closer to the coast. It seemed a much better alternative to drinking recycled urine.

3.)The South shall rise again
They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our water!

And there you have it. A full list of every possible reason known to mankind why anyone needs bottled water. So that brings us to the act of self-bottilation.

Bottled water gives me the impression that the water I am purchasing is sanitary and sterilized. In the event I need to perform self surgery, I expect high quality, germ free H2O. Well this kinda goes out the window if you’re bottling it yourself at a fucking Wal-Mart now doesn’t it?

Oh, yes, friends, I’m so sure that the fantabulous Glacier system is dust free and clean! And here is why.

Wal-Mart has the most sophisticated alarm and control system known to mankind. Church ladies and geezers are strategically placed at the entrance points of all Wal-Mart stores to ensure that only the finest specimens of civilization are permitted within the store’s impenetrable walls. These “greeters” are mechanically and genetically engineered cyborgs designed to prevent the scum of the Earth from entering the vicinity. This is why you will never in a million years find the likes of “white trash” or “scum” shopping at a Wal-Mart.

This also ensures that less dirt and grime makes it way to the much beloved Glacier machine. By not allowing the vermin and riffraff in to shop, you severely cutdown on the amount of mucas, dandruff, and various bodily fluids and gases that could deposite in the cracks and ledges of the Glacier system and its empty bottles.

So, you are all but guaranteed that the water you bottle yourself has never had its container sneezed upon or had some random NASCAR fanatic scratch and sniff their ass and grab an empty jug, only to change their mind at the last minute, leaving you the empty bottle for a future fill up. Plus all Wal-Mart’s are spotless to begin with. I simply dare you to find a dirty one with dust and funk.

The most important reason for buying water and bottling it yourself with the handy-dandy Glacier system is the fact that it comes from a real glacier. I am told that Wal-Mart stores it in a large airconditioned facility in the backroom, away from prying eyes. After all, if everyone could see how to hook up a drinking fountain to their own private glacier, they wouldn’t have any reason to buy it at Wal-Mart now would they? But I was denied a request to see and photograph such a glacier. Wal-Mart could not immediately be reached for comment.

I see my youngest brother Glenn (thumbs up above) has discovered and infiltrated the Fish. Yes, folks, that’s right, the man responsible for the finest snow penis that the town of Rittman has ever seen now posts among us.

(The person with the “Oh my god someone has slipped their finger up my bum” expression is my Marine brother, Drew. Only one of the three of us is a failure in our parents’ eyes.)

Just kidding, Glenn. Welcome aboard the Fish. Hope you enjoy the ride.

I’m still reading Bill Bryson’s In a Sunburned Country. I’m taking my time through it because I want to savor it as much as possible. It’s hilarious and if you haven’t yet read it you are missing out.

I’ve just finished a page where Bryson has a conversation with an Australian local about the giant bull in Wauchope. It reminded me of something from my childhood (Am I old enough to use this phrase yet?), but first let’s talk about this bull.

These large scale tourist attractions (a.k.a. “big things“, not to be confused with “precious things“) are, apparently, quite popular in Australia. This fiberglass moo-sterpiece is located in Wauchope, a town in NSW that’s largely into dairy farming and timber.What makes this baby special is it’s testicles sway in the wind! How cool is that? Say what you will, but a 46 foot tall fiberclass bull with a swaying sack is a must see in my book.

In a past life, when I had more free time, I liked to draw. These are three pictures that I’ve drawn and really like. They’re not perfect, but I am proud of them and I thought I’d share them.

I have other pictures that I’ve drawn but I’m sad to say I don’t have them with me in South Carolina at the moment. Once I get my hands on my portfolio again I will try and post them. Meanwhile, they’re still safely stored away in Ohio.

These three in particular are framed and hanging in my hallway. I had to take them out of the frames to photograph and I’m not terribly good at taking pictures. Also, the drawings are really reflective so I had to take pictures without the flash. So the photos are not the highest quality.

That being said, the first one I want to talk about is the “oldest” one. When I was still in high school, I drew a quick sketch of Yoda but never did anything with it. It was just a fast outline and it ended up getting stowed away for future use. When I got to college, I was given a project with the theme “duality”. I’ve always liked Star Wars and I thought Darth Maul looked cool as far as villains go, so I dusted off my Episode I Yoda sketch and found a use for it.

You can see the final version here. My professor hated it, of course. She told me it was too much like a comic book and not “real art”. That may be, but I bet you can make a lot more money off comic book drawings than anything she ever did.

The drawing in the middle was also made for a project in college. I can’t remember exactly what the topic was, but I know it involved something with colors. One of my favorite artists/illustrators is Mary Grandpre’. She’s probably best known for her illustrations for U.S. versions of the Harry Potter books. My Harry Potter drawing was meant to have a much more detailed background, but I simply ran out of time. I only had a week to complete the drawing and it took longer than I expected to blend all the colors in Harry. I still like this picture a lot, though.

Here’s a larger view. This was my first successful “experiment” with Prismacolor pencils. I really like them a lot because you can blend colors so easily. Once again, my professor (a different one) hated it. “Illustration is not art” says they. “Illustration is some of the best art,” says I.

Last but not least, a picture of Anakin and company from Episode II. This is just something I did in one night in my mom’s basement. Like Yoda, it’s graphite pencil on bristol board. None of my professors had the chance to hate this one because they never saw it. Here is the Anakin portrait.

My all time favorite artist is James Gurney (Ironically enough, one of my most hated artists is Thomas Kinkade, Gurney’s roommate in college.) I have an autographed poster hanging above my couch. His oil paintings for his Dinotopia books are simply amazing.

I also enjoy Mary Grandpre’ (The Harry Potter books) and Drew Struzan (Lots of movie posters, especially for Star Wars).

Perhaps, once I get out of the Navy, I can return to something that offers a little more creativity. Until then, hi ho, hi ho…

It’s been a very long week and a long Friday night. I have the house to myself. It’s quiet and lonely.

It was a scary day today in terms of the War in Iraq. A lot of Marines were killed or injured, and my mother got a phone call from Camp Lejeune about it. We were afraid it was my brother’s platoon but, thankfully, it wasn’t. Unfortunately, my mom does know some of the families of those who died or were wounded.

She makes quilts with other “Marine moms” through the Blue Star Mothers organization and delivers them to the parents of the fallen. I’m sorry to say that far too many quilts have been made and that countless others will undoubtedly follow. Life is too short as it is.

I’ve lit the candles on the kitchen table tonight for my brother. Come home soon, buddy. I love you and miss you. Bravo Zulu.