Howard Stern, You Ain't No Martyr Howard Stern really needs to get over himself. I came upon his show this morning, while driving into the Southern Tier for work. He's been cancelled here in Rochester, and despite my not being a fan, it was unusual to catch him on the air. So I listened for a few minutes - and I have to say it once again. "Howard, you ain't no Martyr." So what - he was fired by Clear Channel, and the FCC has fined him for breaking laws that were already on the books. Are the indecency laws vague? Yeah I think they are, and probably should be reevaluated. But nevertheless, Howard has been indecent by the vaguest standards for years now. It's not Janet Jackson's fault. It's not the FCC's fault. It's not the Religious Right's fault. It's not George W. Bush's fault. IT'S YOUR OWN FAULT, HOWARD!! There. I said it. You've been a pig and acting like one for years. Don't whine and cry about how you're a victim when your own dirty ways have finally caught up with you. You've gotten away with your show for so long that when you finally get the snot slapped out of you by the authorities you whine and cry about how unfair it is. I'm sorry, Howard, but it's fair because the law says so. Get over yourself, already. I agree that Clear Channel should pay you what they owe you. That's only right. But should they give you your job back because you whine enough? No. If Don & Mike in DC can clean up their acts and do an entertaining show, you can too. You're a talented guy, Mr. Stern. I don't doubt that. if you want to do raunch, sell videos of it. They'll sell, I'm sure. You'll make tons of money. Go to satellite radio - have fun. Not a lot of people are keeping their service with Sirius or XM, but you might change that. You're free to do what you want if you're your own boss. But you weren't your own boss at the point you were let go by Clear Channel. Clear Channel was. And from where I stand, you do what your boss says - nobody is above reproach in that matter. Even you Howard Stern. Soundtrack: Daniel Amos - Alarma!

High School's Been Over For 8.6 Years.... The High School mentality - it's sad how some folks can't escape it. I know that a few of my loyal readers were members of the South Jeff Class of '95, right alongside me, so forgive me iin advance if my comments appear blunt. It could be that I'm writing this at three a.m., or it could be the years without therapy. Either way, a patented Jeremy Rant is headed your way. So, without further adieu... I've been out of high school for eight and a half years. As have been the 125 or so folks I graduated with (the total in my class was 145, but there were some left back due to grades, so the exact number escapes me.) Over those eight plus years I've grown a bit, (gaining more weight than I'd prefer, but I've grown in more ways than my girth...), I've changed a lot, I've become an adult. My life here in Rochester is nice, I've married an amazing woman and we have a handsome, courageous and funny little boy to keep us entertained. I've slowly but surely plugged away at my writing career. I've found my purpose in working with the disenfranchised youth in my small farming suburb. I'm as far away from high school mentally and emotionally as I am physically. But for some reason, I have a sneaky suspicion that there are a few people from my class that have, well, spent the last eight plus years wanting to secretly go back to those five or six halls of lockers, back to a place where they ruled the roost while the meek wandered around, counting the days, hours, minutes till the door to the plane opened and they could make that parachute jump into life. Let's face it - high school is only four years out of an average lifespan of eighty. High school is such a small percentage of our lives, yet while you're in it, it's everything. Some people escape unscathed, moving on to face the challenges of life as best as they can. Others, though unscathed, once they escape the vacuum of high school get hit in the jaw with the left hook of reality and the right uppercut of life. And they want to go back to the comfort of the six or seven halls, only to find that those halls won't take them back for ten more years. The roles are switched. Those begging for escape in high school are flying free, and those dying to return to the roost they once ruled are counting the minutes, hours, days till we gather once again so they can feel important once more. And that's just sad. For those of you in my class who read this, it's most likely not you I'm talking about here. So, when we do go to our Reunion (planned a year and a half in advance or not), I say we unite, and show them that there IS life outside of those six or seven halls. It's our only way to exact revenge. It's the best way.

It sounds cuter coming from him... Okay, Michelle and I are watching our niece and nephew for the weekend, and being the good uncle I am, I was slapping our niece around all playful like earlier and saying - "I'll slap you around and call ya Sally!!" It was an off hand comment - the sorta thing I remember my high school gym coach saying once in a while. So tonight I'm putting Josiah to bed, wrestling with him, tickling him, pinning him down to give him goodnight kisses. He wriggles one arm free and playfully slaps me on the cheek and says - "I sap you 'round an' call you Sally!" Hmm...

I really think it might be time to start a job hunt. Nothing really terrible about my current situation, it's just that with a lot of sites being completed and not a lot more ready for me, I've dropped from five days a week to two in a matter of two weeks. That's a pretty heavy hit in the wallet. I'm not worried or anything, I just don't know where to start when it comes to looking for work. I've spent the last few days tinkering around the house, playing my friends Playstation 2 (Tony Hawks Underground Rules!) and trying to finish watching the entire Band of Brothers mini series I got on DVD from the library. But I really don't know where to start. I refuse to get depressed about work - I've been down that road before and it sucks - but I'm not really sure what places to go to seek work. Either way, I'm sure something will come up soon. Soundtrack: Phil Collins - Hits

Two Year Old Logic Yesterday, being the healthy thinking dad that I am, I decided to make Tator Tots (to go along with the Chicken Nuggets I was baking) for dinner. Josiah was bent on French Fries, and kept begging for them instead of Tator Tots. "I don't like Tato-Tots!" He said, adding a nice twinge of whine to his normally soft sweet voice. "Yes you do." I replied, closing the oven and sitting down. Ten or fifteen minutes pass, and Josiah follows me into the kitchen while I check the status of dinner. I open the oven. "Tato-Tots! I Wuv Tato-Tots!" I look at him and squint my eyes. "Do you have a split personality or something?" "No. I have shoes." What the heck does that mean???

My Audio Blog Entries that didn't get posted - From February 24th Diet Coke and Talking Finger - Or How I learned How Sharp Quilting tools really are From March 13th Rock and Roll Superheroes - Or How I Learned That Hero Worship isn't Worth It

Jeremy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day Remember This Book? Story of my life. Well, today at least. It started off normal enough - Michelle had to go to work early, and I was hoping to grab another thirty minutes of shuteye before taking a shower and getting Josiah out of bed. Since he normally wakes up at 8 or so, I figured I'd be good. Nope. He woke up just in time for me to grab a shower before Michelle left, which I wasn't too happy about but figured I'd deal with it. Without giving away any gratuitous (i.e. gross) details, my morning shower routine consists of turning on the water, standing under the hot stream for five or ten minutes to wake up, and then proceeding to wash my hair, etc. Well, wouldn't you know? I'm under the water for thirty seconds when the faucet in the tub blows off and a hot jet of water begins spraying on my legs and no where else. Considering the fact that I'm not a morning person, I was quite irritated at this point. Michelle's reaction? Laughter. Uncontrollable laughter. Can't say that I blame her. I'm sure the sight of an angry, half awake, damp, fat naked guy is funny. Heck, I'm thinking about it now and smiling. But at 6:15 this morning, I wore no smile. And nothing else for that matter, but that's beside the point. So I decide to take a bath, figuring the sacrifice of taking a bath was much better than smelling bad all day. But here's the problem - I haven't taken a bath in about 20 years. I'm a shower man - will be till the day I die, or until I have to have my wife sponge bathe me at the nursing home. But until then, I prefer the shower. So baths are an odd experience for me. Not too mention I was tired and angry. And did I mention that there was no faucet in the tup? Just a piece of PVC spraying water straight out of it, which made sitting in the tub feel like I was face to face with a giant water hose that never shut off. But I got through it. With Michelle laughing at me the entire time. The day went okay for a while, at least until after lunch when I bent down to pick up a stack of charts the crotch of my really nice olive courds ripped in the crotch. I spent the remainder of my workday praying that nobody would notice the three inch tear just below the fly. (thankfully, nobody did) But it was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. At eight o'clock the phone rang. I thought it would be my friend Eric, with whom I planned on seeing Wrestlemania this weekend at a local establishment. But it wasn't. Our babysitter, a woman who has watched our son for over a year was in a car accident. Right now she's in the Emergency Room waiting to see if she has a broken shoulder. I'd take a bath in a broken tub and a ripped pants crotch over a broken shoulder any day. Guess even the things we think are completely horrendous can't match up to some of the things other folks end up going through. I needed that kind of lesson. Soundtrack: Beat - A Silent Planet Records Compilation

I must've bumped my head when I fell off the blogging wagon - I keep forgetting to blog, or not getting to it during my day. Someday I'll return to regular blogging. Soundtrack:

I have got to get back into the swing of things. Blog. Blog. Blog. You'd think my life was dull. First off, the news. I'm working with Elim Publishing , a new publishing ministry geared towards equipping unreached people groups with discipleship material otherwise unheard of. It seems like a fun opportunity to use my talents for God's glory, so who knows where it will take me? The infamous Megazeen: Lust issue has hit the stands, with a deeply personal story written by me featured within its pages. Click here for more info. Order a few copies. It's worth it. I've been notified of another big opportunity for me, but for now I have to keep it under my trusty wool Winston cap. I'm not sure if, how or when it will pan out, but as soon as I can write about it, I will. But it could possibly be huge. I've been reading when I can - I'm totally into John Eldredge right now. I don't know what it is, but fiction isn't very appealing right now. I might partake of something of the fictious persuasion soon, but for now I like the non-fiction stuff. On deck I have a few books from Relevant Books, none of them fiction. Who would've thought that "Mr. Fiction" would be reading stuff that's not made up? Weird, huh? Did I mention I'm preaching in church this week or next? Fun stuff. Oh, and I didn't even get around to writing about Niagara Falls last weekend. Awesome time - I've really fallen more in love with Michelle than I ever thought possible. But, that didn't change the fact that I missed Josiah tons. Oh, and the Oscars. Man, the ol' blog wheel is turning in my head at all times, and now I doubt any of my comments regarding Sean Penn or Errol Morris would be timely enough, even if I did write them tonight. Regardless, Sunday's Oscar Telecast proved that there are still a pile of morons in Hollywood. I really want to write more. I wish there were a few more hours in the day so I can do so. But I have to wake up in the morning and take the Millenium Falcon (our trusty Saturn) to get an oil change. Here's hoping I don't have some giant Wookie digging around the entrails while at the garage, though. Soundtrack: The Swirling Eddies - Outdoor Elvis and Derek Webb - She Must and Shall Go Free