Elmer Fudd: I'm Hunting TAKS Tests!

Me: Is that right, doc?

Fudd: Yep, it's TAKS season, and I'm going to get me a TAKS!

Me: Well, you know, doc, it's actually UIL season.

Principal Daffy: Oh, no you don't! Everybody knows it's TAKS season!

Me: UIL season.

Daffy: TAKS season!

Me: UIL season.

Daffy: TAKS season!

Me: TAKS season!

Daffy: UIL season!

Me: TAKS season!

Daffy: UIL season!

Me: TAKS season!

Daffy: Now when I say it's UIL season, I mean it's UIL season. And it's UIL SEASON!! NOW SHOOT!!

Fudd: Wehw if you say so.

*****BOOM!!!!*****

Daffy: You're 'dith"-'pickable.

from the future!!!

I have been wanting a PDA phone for a while, and I finally got one. An iPhone was not in my cards, but this BlackBerry is pretty darn cool if do say so myself. Big thanks to my wife for letting me get my Christmas present early. It will certainly take me a while figure it all out but in the meantime enjoy what I have learned how to do. (Post blogs online.). Oooh! I just got an email on my phone. Awesome.

The Amazing Adventures of Bonkers

This is Amanda with our cat Bonkers. About 2 weeks ago at around 6:30 p.m. we were about to eat dinner and he was wanting out on the porch. We live on the first floor, but there are bars around our patio that we had previously thought Bonkers was too fat to get through. Well, he evidently figured out how to wiggle through them and got out. We were not too concerned because Bonkers has gotten out numerous times and always came back. He never went far. So, when Amanda sent me out a few hours later to find him I expected to have to chase him from bush to bush around the apartment complex until he decided to go back home, like he normally does. But, after searching the whole apartment complex for at least an hour, he was no where to be found. I kept expecting him to show up at the door pawing to get back in, so I stayed up and would occasionally check the front door or the porch to see if he had returned. No luck. I finally went to sleep with an unsettled feeling. We had never left Bonkers out all night, despite his valiant attempts in the past to not get caught and return home.

The next two days were pretty stressful. Still, there was no sign of Bonkers by the end of the day Tuesday, so we printed out fliers with a picture on it around our complex in hopes that someone would find him and return him to us.

Everyday we came home from work expecting to see Bonkers circling the Welcome mat with a look on his face as if to say, "Where have I been? Where have you been?" But, as the days dragged on and there was no sign of the fat grey kitty we resigned ourselves to the conclusion that someone who noticed his sweet and friendly demeanor and no collar or tags must have grabbed him, thinking he was a stray and in need of some reciprocated affection.

I had another theory that he had simply reached an impasse in his life. Bonkers had always been an adventurous sort: wanting to roam outside, exploring the legs of any and every visitor that came to our home. He was even surprisingly curious and enthralled, however on alert, when faced with the dreadful barking dog. I imagined Bonkers setting off to see the world. Or, at least the immediate vicinity. No matter how hard we looked he was always one step ahead saying to us, "I shall return, but there is something I must do." Several of our friends had told us tales of brave cats returning to their owners after weeks or even months of roaming. Perhaps it was just one of those rights of passage for cats. Live on the land and see the world!

This past Saturday night Amanda's parents were in town to visit. It was their first time to see our new digs since we moved to Sugar Land and we were enjoying our visit. We were on our way back to the apartment to watch the UT/Tech football game when Amanda, from the back seat of her dad's pickup began to cry excitedly. "Someone's found Bonkers!" She exclaimed as she listened to her voice messages on her cell phone. It was the thing we had been waiting for but had decided would probably not happen. We were excited and relieved and our hearts started beating with anticipation as we called the person back who had our cat. Sure enough, it wasn't a mistake; Bonkers had been found.

"But," said the cautious voice over the phone, "he's in pretty bad shape."

"It's okay." I told the man on the other end. "We'll be there in about 5 minutes."

It is certainly difficult to wait 5 minutes when you are anticipating something. The ride to the apartment was unbearable. All the way we were going over in our minds the time Bonkers had spent out in the elements. He was gone for two weeks. In that time we had experienced several days of rain as well as a cold front. Bonkers, without claws due to a surgery he had before we rescued him from a shelter in Pasadena 5 years ago, had no way to defend himself against other cats or dogs. Hopefully, he just needed to be given some fluids and food and he would be back to his normal self in no time.

We searched for the apartment in our complex of the man who was holding Bonkers. We were amazed and frustrated over the lack of sequence in which our buildings had been arranged. "Is this building 10?" "This has to be building 10." "No. Building 8, well then it must be this way." "Building 7! Okay, the other way." "Alright, there's building 9 and...ELEVEN? What the crap?!" Finally as we approached the last building at the back of complex and noticed that we had found building 10 Amanda began to run.

A young man who would at best be described as punk rock was waiting in the breezeway with a cat carrier by his side. I'm not big on first impressions as I want to give everyone the benefit of proving their character, but if I went by my gut, I would have actually attributed the term "skin-head" to the guy. He really resembled everything you would think of in association with loud, tuneless, angry banging of drums and screaming. Black combat boots with mismatching laces, piercings, face tattoos and a buzzed haircut. As Amanda kneeled down next to the cat carrier and saw Bonkers' tired, dirty face inside she melted with joy, confusion, sorrow and hope. The Punk put his arm around my wife, which I didn't like, so I pulled her closer to me. (Don't ask me why this is relevant, because it would send me into a tirade that would take this story into an entirely different direction that is baseless and speculative. Long story, short: I didn't trust the guy.)

Sure enough, Bonkers wasn't looking good. Despite his apparent lack of interest in food, it was clear he hadn't eaten in a while. He was bleeding from his hind quarters and he was unresponsive, however obviously awake. He would let out a weak "meow" every now and then to show that he was, in fact, aware, but there was little life in his eyes. I scooped him up in an old beach towel we had brought along and immediately I realized the damage was severe. Not only was this previously girthy cat now bony and about half of his original weight, I could feel something wet soaking through the towel and onto my t-shirt. There was an odd and frightening smell as well. We knew from our experience evacuating our cats to Abilene when the Houston area was threatened with Hurricane Rita 3 years ago that when Bonkers is scared and under stress he drools and loses his bowel control. It was no surprise then that Bonkers was pooping all over the place. The reasons for that, though were much more serious than we initially thought.

As soon as we got Bonkers home we started to clean him off in the bathtub. Weeks of gravel and dirt ran brown down into the drain, as well as a dark red mix of blood and fecal matter from his backside. Bonkers was only slightly resistant as he was startled by the sound of the water rushing from the spout. Once we turned off the noise he lay there as we scrubbed and washed him, content and calm as the warm water ran through his once thick beautiful grey and white hair. Through his slightly open eyes we could see the gorgeous blue eyes that had enthralled us from the first day Amanda brought him home. They were no longer frightened but satisfied. It was the same look he would give us on Saturday mornings as he would crawl up into the bed with Amanda and I and position himself in the nook created in the comforter by our bodies. Bonkers was a cat that enjoyed and relished comfort and lounging. He had made it into an art form, if it's possible for a cat to create art. This was certainly the same cat that had lazily sprawled in the sun as it beamed in from the window on Summer mornings. His eyes showed us a glimpse into the character of Bonkers and his enjoyment of the moment. Even if his pain was still there, as long as we were petting him and literally showering him with love, he felt that and was happy.

Amanda's mother was able to find an 24 hour emergency vet clinic in our new town, in which we still hadn't ventured out enough to know where things were. Luckily it was very close, so we dried off Bonkers as best we could and scooped him up once again to take him to the vet. As Amanda held him in the backseat of our car speaking to him through tears in a sweet, friendly voice we knew that we were closer to this all being over. We were confident that all Bonkers needed was perhaps an IV and some bandages and he would be okay in no time.

The people at the Vet were extremely kind, sensitive and direct. We were dealing with a "very sick kitty," as they put it. We were approached several times over the next couple of hours with varying degrees of good and bad news. The vets were concerned about his dehydration, his blood pressure and his temperature, which was dropping fast. Also, his wounds were more severe than I had initially thought and could possibly, even with the best medical care, leave Bonkers permanently incontinent. The costs were mounting up.

Anytime money versus the heart is in question I am traditionally the first to spurn the idea of making the call in favor of the financially beneficial thing. However, I had been through this before, as many people have. As much as we love our animals and pour our hearts into them as we would another person, the fact of the matter is that we live longer. This is, in fact, how it should be. With the understanding that there is only so much that any person can be expected to do for a pet, when I saw Amanda's face as we looked at the prospect of what returning Bonkers to health would cost, there was nothing I wanted more than to incur debt upon debt to save our kitty. The other side of the coin, however, was that there were no guarantees. Regardless of the amount of money we spent on Bonkers it was possible that he would not survive. He had weathered two weeks without food or clean water and had been attacked with no means of defense. According to the doctors his injuries had been withstood early in his absence, and was perhaps the reason he didn't return that night in the first place. There was infection and organ failure and the fact that he was still alive was remarkable. The decision was made to have Bonkers put to sleep.

Visions of our family dog from my adolescence flashed through my head. She was hit by a car Christmas Eve of 1997, during my break from college my freshman year. Her spine was crushed and she was never going to be able to use her hind legs again. Seeing her as we said goodbye and then walked away as she scrambled with her front legs to follow us was the most genuinely heart wrenching thing I had ever witnessed at that point of my life. I knew it wouldn't be the last time I would have see a much loved pet for the last time, but I had hoped we still had some time with Bonkers. He made it a lot easier for us than our dog, Dutchess had. He sat content with an IV in his left paw, as peaceful (and drugged) as could be. Amanda was the only thing in my focus, besides Bonkers. She leaned over our cat as he made a couple of conciliatory meows and sobbed. I had seen her cry before, but not like this. I felt a deep and cliched responsibility to be strong for her. Our resilience during a tragedy was being tested as it would again in the years to come. Pets, as well as family members die as they would continue to do for the rest of our own lives. It's not a fun or easy subject, but it is the way things are. At this moment, however we were faced with our first great loss as a singular family unit. It was a significant moment in our lives, worthy of my utmost thought and all the love I had for my wife pouring over her. The staff of the veterinary clinic blurred around us as we pet Bonkers head and spoke softly to him. Aware, as I always am, of the surrealness and weight of a situation, I concluded that they see this all the time. Probably, more for dogs than for cats, but nonetheless, they knew how to act, and they did a masterful job.

Finally we walked away and left for home. Amanda's tears as she and I walked with her mother, who was the blessing of all blessing during this night, toward the car. I've come to believe that silence and stillness are more powerful than words than I can give my wife when she is sad or frustrated. Her mother knew what to say to her, anyway, so I tried to let her comfort her with words as I held her hand.

It's now been three days since we last saw Bonkers, and 2 weeks and 2 days since he went missing. Things happen and sometimes they happen to good cats who simply wanted a little adventure. We are still sad and we will always miss him. We are glad, however, at the time that we did have with Bonkers, who's original name was Sam when we adopted him at the age of 2. We are spending more time playing with Pumpkin, our other cat, whose energy and need for attention since the absence of Bonkers is at new highs. We are taking joy in Pumpkin's company as well as each other's. As for Bonkers, we feel a little strange mourning the loss of a cat, an animal most people tend to see as a nice addition to a home's ambiance, and less than a full-fledged member of the family, like they do with the more personable, playful and loyal dog. Bonkers, as well as our other cat, Pumpkin, are different, as anyone who has visited us will tell you. Bonkers greeted everyone at the door with a rub of the leg and lay out so that you would scratch his belly. He never hissed or swatted at you and if you picked you up would generally oblige you the inconvenience of keeping him from whatever pointless escapades he was to endeavor in next. He was certainly a smart cat, as we found out over time, although he was not nimble, like most cats. He was known to knock stuff over as he clunked his way passed various assortments arranged on a counter or table. This may have been because of his lack of a tail. This deficiency, or greatest attribute, depending on your point of view, had another apparent drawback, which I describe in this blog entry from August of 2006. But, for all of Bonkers eccentricities and odd-ballness he was certainly an integral part of our family. In fact, it was because of these thing that we loved him so much.

After Ike

So, we were incredibly lucky. We live in an apartment so any damage that was sustained in our area is largely someone else's probably. As far as I can tell only some shingles fell off of the roof and a few very young, non-threatening tree came unrooted from the soil in which they were planted just a couple years before. Our electricity was out for a total of 12 hours, which was about the time that it took Amanda and I to get a good night's sleep (well, I slept well, anyway) and then eat breakfast. About the biggest inconvenience for us was the weaker than normal cell phone signal and the DVR box wasn't working until the Comcast offices openned and could resend a signal to it. Oh, and the Astros had to play two very important "home games" at "neutral" Miller Park in North Chicago.

Not everyone was so lucky. Particularly the people of Galveston and Bolivar, which is where I've grown up visiting and going to the beach. It's basically gone, now. What was once a neighborhood lined with homes is now dotted, at best with some weak structures that somehow stayed up.

My parents and many of my friends and family in Baytown were also hit pretty hard. My parents had several tree in their yard blown down as well as an electrical pole that serves their house. It will be a while before they have electricity, I'm sure. They stayed the night here the other night and I'm sure they were happy to have A/C and internet for a while.

Another friend of mine lives in La Porte, an area on the other side of the Fred Hartman Bridge from Baytown. They are still not letting people in to the town, so he is scraping for places to stay. He's going to stay with us tonight.

We've had no school this week, which has been strange. We really didn't expect the Hurricane to be this big of a deal, especially in Fort Bend, far from the Galveston coastline. It has essentially shut down the entire Houston Metro area. It's just so hard to imagine an area this huge, with this many people having their lives affected in such dramatic ways all at the same time. I heard a radio broadcaster say how Hurricane Ike was a great equalizer. We were without power for such a short period of time while several very affluent neighborhoods went much longer and may still be without power. It puts things in perspective and really makes you realize that we are all in the same boat. Hurricanes just kind of shine a light on that fact.

The Night and the Aftermath

The Wind's Picking Up!

Hurricane Part 2

Hurricane Ike!

I didn't think it would take so long to get this posted, so it's like 2 hours later. Time for another entry.

Made Popular By Barnard Pivot

Fan's of the Bravo TV show Inside the Actor's Studio will remember the questionnaire that James Lipton asks the guest at the end of the interview. The questions come from a very old survey popularized, but not invented, by writer Marcel Proust. Not that anyone cares. He only asked a few of the questions and the survey actually is much longer. It's kind of like all of those stupid MySpace questionnaires that I can't help answering but in kind of an 1890s way. Anyway, now that I'm in summer and have a bit more time on my hands I've been looking for a way to start blogging, despite my disinterest with it. So here it is:

1. Your favorite virtue/The principal aspect of my personality
Answer: My desire to be truly known by others.

2. Your favorite qualities in a man.
Answer: Humility

3. Your favorite qualities in a woman.
Answer: Patience, strength

4. What you appreciate the most in your friends
Answer: Sincerity and the ability to open up and not try to hard to impress anyone.

5. Your main fault
Answer: I tend to cripple underneath stress or when something may seem too tough. I tend to under prepare and get lazy until the last minute.

6. Your favorite occupation.
Answer: Laughing

7. Your idea of happiness
Answer: Doing things with people who I love.

8. Your idea of misery.
Answer: Being with people who have contempt, disrespect, or simply don't like me.

9. If not yourself, who would you be?
Answer: A mountain climber from some Nordic country.

10. Where would you like to live?
Answer: I saw a news story on The Netherlands and how they have to pay 50% of their paycheck in taxes, but college and healthcare, and I'm sure lots of other things are free. They have very little cares and get lots of vacation time. I think I could handle that.

11. My favourite colour.
Answer: Blue, it is very relaxing and people say that I have pretty blue eyes. Of course they're hidden behind glasses nowadays.

12. The flower that I like the most.
Answer: a girl gave me a Tiger Lily once for an opening night. I was very impressed like I had not been impressed with a flower, nor have I since. Flowers don't generally hold any kind of special allure for me, but that was a really cool flower.

13. Your favorite authors.
Answer: J. D. Salinger, Jon Krakauer, Malcolm Gladwell, J. K. Rowlings

14. Your favorite poets.
The Shins, Lord Byron

15. Your favorite heroes in fiction.
Answer: Max Fisher, Michael Corleone, John Dorian, Michael Bluth

16. Your favorite heroines in fiction.
Answer: Marge Gunderson, Pam Beesly, Maria from West Side Story

17. My favorite composers.
Answers: Mark Mothersbaugh, Pachabel, Maurice Ravel

18. My favorite painters.
Answers: Van Gogh, Picasso,

19. My heroes in real life.
Answers: Barack Obama, John Stewart, Tim Russert, King David, Jesus

20. Your favorite heroines in real life.
Answers: Anne Frank, My Mom, My Grandmother

21. What characters in history do you most dislike.
Answers: Adolf Hitler, Woodrow Wilson, Caligula, King George 3 of England

22. Your favorite food and drink.
Answers: Beer and Pizza

23. Your favorite names.
Answers: Calvin, Hobbes, Kyle, Amanda, Dylan, Lennon, Kelly, there's more.

24. What I hate the most.
Answers: hate, greed, my own faults.

25. The military event I admire the most
Answers: D-Day in Normandy, France.

26. The reform I admire the most (This is an old survey)
Answers: Jack in the Box's corporate reformation in the early 90s

27. The natural talent I'd like to be gifted with
Answers: Humor

28. How I wish to die
Answers: Young: falling from somewhere very high. Old: asleep.

29. What is your present state of mind.
Answers: (This is Proust's own answer) "Boredom from having had to think about myself to answer all these questions."

30. For what fault have you most toleration ?
Answers: Social Awkwardness

31. My motto. Do what you got to do.

Seems I'm not alone...

Dear people (lovely people, you are) that still read this thing, even though I tend to forget about it for months at a time,

I had some inquiry about a new job mentioned in the previous post. Let me clarify. The job isn't that new. Ryan, I think you probably knew about it. Lyndsey (whose name I'm not sure that I'm spelling right because I can't remember if it's you or L. Rogers that gets the 'a') may not have known.

But, it's not really a huge deal. I took a job at a different school, still teaching theatre, only now I'm all by myself and I'm the one solely in charge. It's also a new district with vastly different people and expectations that I'm not used to. I've been here since August, so it's not really new anymore, but since a school year is an ever evolving, crazy amoeba like thing, every day is new. Plus, my school is hosting UIL OAP this year, which is a whole nother pile of insanity to have to deal with.

So, yeah, I'm actually doing quite well, but I'm just tired a lot. But, then again, who isn't?

BTW, Lyndsey (I checked and I was right the first time), I would NEVER mispronounce your name. There's a BBQ place here in Houston called Goode Company and they pronounce it WRONG! It infuriates me. But they have good BBQ, so I deal. But people look at me weird when I call it Goode's (pronounced like 'food') BBQ.

Tagging

Seeing on account of me never blogging anymore, on account of I don't usually have any time or energy, on account of I'm in a new job and even when I have something I want to write about I'm usually too tired, I decided to do something I haven't done in a long time. I haven't done it in a while because I decided that I would only blog when I really had something to say.

Of course, what the hell. By the way, I think it's pretty obvious, but I didn't write this next part:

Here's how you play: Once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 10 weird random facts, habits, secrets, or goals about yourself, at the end choose 10 people to be tagged. List their name and why you tagged them. Don't forget to leave them a comment saying "You're It!" and to go read your blog. You can't tag the person who tagged you! So since you can't tag me back let me know when you are done so I can read your blog answers!

1) I've never been busier or more stressed in my life than I am right now.

2) I feel more fulfilled right now than I ever have in my life.

3) I secretly have always fantasized about auditioning for American Idol, and not "just for fun."

4) It makes me sick when I think about friends who I once considered as close as brothers but I never see anymore.

5) I relate to and empathize with Michael Scott.

6) I like dogs more than cats, but I'm afraid that I'm too lazy to walk one if I were to get one.

7) I wish I cried more.

8) I lost 40 pounds last year.

9) I've gained at least 20 pounds since the summer.

10) When I first learned the word 'narcissist' I became obsessed with it because this was a word that described my greatest fear about myself. I stopped Googling myself, right away. But, I started blogging, so it's like I can't get away from it. But, since I can and do acknowledge this fault in myself, I believe that this somehow forgives whatever transgression my self involved nature may be. Also, I think I go out of my way to care about and focus on others, as well, and actively put myself before other people. There are many times I only do this because I'm afraid of being a selfish person.

People I'm tagging:
Since I don't really blog much anymore and probably no one reads my blog anymore, we'll see who actually does this. If you do then let me know, so I can read what you wrote.

Mom-she may be the only person who still checks this blog.

Jason-my brother, because he may be the only other person who checks this blog.

Okay, I'm supposed to put down ten people, but I seriously don't want to. Sorry

STRIKE!

This is just a little note letting you know that I'm not being lazy about blogging. I'm just refusing to cross the picket line.

I'm crossing it now because it turns out nobody give a crap whether or not I'm a scab.

Frankly, as I believe is popular opinion, I think the WGA is in the right. Far be it from me to ever side with a corporation. I read somewhere that they jumped the gun on the strike and should have waited to see what kind of profits are actually made by "new media." (For those of you not following the details of the strike, "new media," in this context refers to the recent prominance of digital media availble via the internet.) But the problem with that arguement is that in the meantime whatever profits are being made isn't being shared with the Writers, as they are with actors, producers, and the studios.

So, I think that the strike will ultimately be for the better. And I'm not just saying that because I'm hoping to one day sell the screenplay that will allow me to sleep in until 9 or 10 the rest of my life because of the enormous internet and DVD residuals. It's because next year, I'm confident, should see a surge in really creative movies, TV shows, and comedy. Think about it: the writers aren't working. They are bored and sitting at home with nothing to do except what got them introduced to the business in the first place. Writing for the sheer joy of it. Artists who aren't creating art will find some way to express themselves. If they aren't writing because they have to the easiest thing to do would be to write because they need to. So, I welcome the little lul in creative TV. I know they're good for it.

Giuliani and Me

Amanda and I had an interesting morning. One of our favorite places to eat here in Houston is a place called Buffalo Grill. They would definitely be my pick for best breakfast food. We've never been for lunch or dinner, so we can't speak for anything but the pancakes, bacon, and stuff like that, but it's definitely the best we've been to in the city, so far.

But that's beside the point. While we breakfastéd there this morning (I had the #3A, Amanda a blueberry wheat pancake the size of a your face...if you have a really big face) we noticed that there were a couple young ladies and one ambitious looking young man in a navy suit handing out fliers with Rudolph Giuliani's face on it and stickers with a big "RUDY '08" on it. I thought, "Okay these people have come down to do a little canvasing whilst enjoying the best breakfast in the city."

But then I began seeing TV cameras and men with badges. Not police badges, but the important kind. The kind that says "press" and hang from the neck. And I knew they weren't just tourists with nice camera either because the microphones were fuzzy. No one has fuzzy microphones, unless there's after a scoop. Then I overheard one of the clean cut young blonds tell another breakfast goer that "he" would be here in 15 minutes. Soon, it was clear that Giuliani was actually going to be coming to the restaurant. Amanda and I were finishing up, but, to my surprise, Amanda wanted to get another cup of coffee and hang out and see if we see Rudy. Now, if you've ever been to the Buffalo Grill, particularly on a Sunday morning, you know that it's pretty busy and the line is regularly out the door. They don't let you save tables and they kind of discourage hanging around when there's a huge line. On this morning there was an even bigger crowd. So, Amanda and I felt a little bad about hogging a table, but it seemed, given the circumstance, it was appropriate. We felt a lot better when a bright eyed young couple asked if they could share our table. We were glad to do so. The guy told me that he received Giuliani email newsletters and knew about the appearance. I was really glad that he got to discover the best breakfast in town in the process.

Eventually, Rudy did show up around 10:15. You kind of had to think: 10:15 am on a Sunday morning in the West University area; this a fairly diverse mix of old school GOP and moderately liberal area of town and he was there at a time when the Republicans who dislike him would be in church. Seemed like a good strategy.

So, he walks in and, of course, the cameras and microphones swarmed around him. There was a reserved table right next to our table and he sat right there and began a chat with a little boy, who I find out from the AP later on, was named Charlie Pagan. I'm not making that up, his last name was "Pagan" and he and his Pagan family were the pre-screened exemplification of the ideal Rudy voter. Well, they weren't in church, after all.

The cool part was that he really was within spitting distance of us. Had I been so inclined I could have been kicked out of the restaurant by actually spitting. But, like I said, we love this place. Plus, why would I do that?

When Giuliani stood to pay his tab and make his rounds he walked by me and I decided that it was now or never. I stood and punched him in the face!

Just kidding. I shook his hand and asked if he'd had the pancakes. He said no, that he just had a cup of coffee. I felt this was a mistake, but I let it go.

The above picture I found it on this AP news site. So, yeah, I'm famous now. I also took some pretty crappy cell phone pics that I'll try to post maybe later.

More Reunion Junk

So, the high school reunion is tonight. I've already expounded on the societal and personal implications that this night brings. I've always thought of the ten year reunion along the same lines as the Senior Prom. Not necessarily as huge as a wedding or a child birth, but still, it's a once in a lifetime kind of thing that is deeply infused into the fabric of our culture. If you doubt this then take a look at the movies that have used this overblown party as subject matter.

The previously linked blog above references a movie that is probably my favorite of these films. Grosse Pointe Blank is the story of a guy, Martin Blank played by John Cusak, who has to travel back to his home town of Grosse Pointe, Michigan on business. Unwittingly, he is there on the same weekend that his high school graduating class is having it's 10 year reunion. His caring and concerned secretary encourages him to go to the reunion, even though he really doesn't want to. It turns out that he took off the night of prom, leaving his high school sweetheart waiting to be picked up, never to be seen or heard from again. Martin is wary of going back to his reunion for the obvious awkwardness that could accompany his reunification with all his old friends, and most of all the girl.

As he is scoping out the old town and the changes that have taken place since he left, ("I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart!") he happens by a shop window that houses a local radio station. The DJ at the mic is none other than his old girlfriend, played by Minnie Driver, in one of her cuter roles. He can't help himself and decides to listen into her show. As the curiosity gets the better of him he decides to make use of a commercial break and drop into the station. Driver's character then puts him on air to quiz him on his going AWOL in high school and sudden return, much to his humiliation.

Oh, and Martin's business is as a killer for hire. He's a hitman. The girl doesn't know that yet, but the audience knows this from the beginning. A very good and in demand one, at that.

What I love about this movie is that, despite his job as a professional killer, (he claims a military psychological profile quiz showed he had a certain "Moral flexibility") he is very concerned with the way people see him. Even when he's been hired to kill someone he seems genuinely hurt when the person he's about to kill thinks it's something personal. "It's not me!" he tells them, just before he puts a hole through the person's head.

Other than the killing thing, I see a lot of myself in Martin Blank. He is thoughtful, in the sense that he may over think a topic. He is very self-aware, knows how he feels and is able to verbalize his feelings, but also realizes and compares this to how he should be feeling. Like, on the one hand, he knows that going to his reunion, given the circumstances surrounding his departure, his return, and his career, would probably be a mistake. On the other hand, he knows that he's curious and a peek into his old life, when presented to him on a covered platter is more than he can handle. He must cave in.

Well, here I am with the covered platter only minutes from my home. Despite the $60 a pop price tag, it was just too difficult not to peek back into that world. Of course, it's not like I left in some weird way or that I'm expecting people to think it odd that I'm there, like Martin Blank, but, of the few people with whom I kept in contact after high school, I don't think that any of them are coming. I'm sure this would be enough to fend away most sensible people. But, once again, I over think things and can't resist an opportunity to put myself in an awkward situation. Then again, I might have a blast. Who knows.

By the way, what's with movies and TV shows always holding the reunions in the gym of the high school. You can't drink in a public high school, which is one of the greatest things about the high reunion to begin with. The last time I saw some of these people we were jumping the fence at a party where the cops showed up or sneaking around to pay off some homeless guy to buy us beer. How surreal and wonderful is that?

Cast for the THS production of A Midsummer Night's Dream

Thank you for all who auditioned. The decisions were very difficult and I look forward to working with each of you.

The first rehearsal will be on

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2007, 3pm-5pm
in the Black Box Theater

Please be early!

If you can’t be there or at any future rehearsals please contact Aaron Hlavaty or Mr. Martin. You will receive a script and complete schedule at that time.

Carole-Marie Wiser will serve as Assistant Stage Manager with Aaron!

Mr. THESEUS David Novark
Mrs. EGEUS Zainab Elkadin
LYSANDER Emilio Campos
DEMETRIUS Erik Schorken
Mrs. PHILOSTRATE Haley Thurman
QUINCE Ryan Hadfield
SNUG Sammy Rice
BOTTOM Richard Gomez
FLUTE Zach Brady
SNOUT Polo Barfield
STARVELING Cash Koppe
HIPPOLYTA (Mrs. Theseus) Reade Burke
HERMIA Sarah McCall
HELENA Jessica Ries
OBERON Daniel Colvin
TITANIA Adrienne Enderle
PUCK Josephine Tran
First FAIRY Daniela Silva
PEASEBLOSSOM Lindsay Madura
COBWEB Alessandra Suniaga
MOTH Anja Senn
MUSTARDSEED Brennen Blankenship
FAIRIES Aziza Lewally
Jaquelyne Mata
Jessica Sabillion
Marissa Sendejas
Terran Freeman
Victoria Rios
Towobola Jokodola
Attendants to OBERON Sitrutul Abedin
John Whitney
Chad Heller
David McGarrigle

The Liberal Media

If the media is so liberal, which I think is a lie fed to us by the conservative, and unabashedly so, talk radio media, then it is only because the very idea of media, in this case meaning news and information givers known as the press, is a liberal idea. Telling people what they need to know in order for them to better keep the government and those in power accountable is a very liberal concept, especially when put in context with the course of history that has progressed so far.

If education in the United States, where teachers are filling kids' heads with things about science and art and the unpatriotic concept that the U.S.A. has screwed up, a lot over the course of it's short history, shows a slight, or more than slight, liberal bias, which I think is another lie, it is because, once again, the idea of education is a liberal idea. Educating the masses so that everyone has access to the skills and knowledge to combat the powers that be is a very progressive and liberal idea.

The United States of America and the ideals that it was founded on are very liberal ideas thought up by some radically liberal men. These were men who wanted to eradicate slavery almost 100 years before anyone actually had the balls to actually do it. Pretty liberal. Not liberal enough, mind you, but certainly ahead of the curve.

It is because of these things that I am disturbed by the notion that has been bandied about the airwaves that the word liberal is a bad thing to be avoided. We should be proud of our liberal-ness, which one could also call LIBERTY and wear it as a badge of honor. I almost wrote pride, but I think that pride is actually a misleading feeling for people who want to feel superior, which is a feeling at odds with liberty and should be avoided. I prefer the word "honor" because it implies humility and inclusion. Inclusion and diversity being things that I feel are strongly associated with freedom and liberty.

So, is our media liberal? Maybe, but probably not enough seeing as how a sad percentage of what they show on the most respected of news channels is about the latest celebutant foibles and high profile "hot girl" killings, or sport star arrests. These footnotes take the place of information about what laws are being slipped under our noses that will deny us freedoms, and policies that are being implemented that oppose the ideas of liberty. Those who are keeping an eye on the people in charged are silenced or pushed to the daytime block of time so that Nancy "Condescending Bitch" Grace can tell us that murderers and rapists are scum during the prime time slots.

Is education biased toward liberal ideology. You would think that, since I am a teacher, I would be able to answer this question with some confidence. But, seeing as how I teach in Texas, my views are somewhat skewed on the topic. I teach in a school district that has a strict "Abstinence Only" sex ed policy, which means that students are not allowed to know about or how to use condoms. In the even they find themselves met with a temping situation, all students are expected to turn tail and run the other way, rather than engage in the sexual intercourse that awaits them. I, for one, find this to be a wonderful plan, and if carried out correctly will certainly prevent pregnancy and any number of STDs. There's a major flaw in the plan, however, and I don't think I have to spell it out. This is not a very liberal stance to take.

I won't go into how the "liberal" news media gave the Bush administration a free pass in the critical days after 9/11, or how they pander much more to big corporate business than to the people they are supposed to serve. I won't talk about how text books and teachers still gloss over the nasty parts of American history. The parts that would make students go, "We did that to the Mexicans?" all the while their parents are complaining that the restroom signs at the airports say "Banós" in tiny letters under the "Restroom" sign. I don't need to go into the whole thing in order to make a case for a lack of true liberal education or press. I don't think that I've said anything that was untrue or that many could refute. That's an overstatement and, in fact, I don't have any references to back up my claims and opinions. At least I'm not going to take the time to go look this up. But, I could, if I cared enough. If I ever write a book on the subject, I'm sure I'll have to back up my opinions in someway.

So, the next time you hear someone talk about the liberal media I would invite you to question him or her on their reasoning for saying so. You and I both know that just hearing it from Sean Hannity doesn't count. I don't think that most people would admit it even that was their only rationale. When they tell you this, and in the rare case when they are able to back it up with evidence, they will likely tell you that the media only tells us the parts they want us to hear. Let them know that, if this is in fact the truth and the press is withholding, they are being too conservative. The media needs to be more liberal. And, if they simply don't believe what they're hearing and seeing...well, then I really can't help them their. They've obviously been burned by the propagandist media before and need to help us to demand a more liberal news media.

People of the World, (Re) Unite!

Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.

I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

I consider myself to be a fairly confident person. When I meet someone I don't generally have a difficult time talking to them, even if I think that the person doesn't like me. I can talk to a person and feel completely at ease, without even considering the fact that I might be some annoying weirdo whom they are too polite to tell off or walk away from. Every now and then I'll realize this in retrospect, but even then, I don't really care. It's all about confidence and being assured of who I am and realizing that if a person doesn't like me then I shouldn't really care. On top of that, I make enough friends to believe that unless the person is an asshole, they'll probably like me, well enough.

So, why, when I think about my 10 year high school reunion do I want to go shrink down into a hole a hide?

You see, I haven't always been the confident person you see today. When I was in Jr. High (Middle School to some of you) I, like many people, was self-conscious about a number of things. I worried about how cool I was, what I was wearing: did I have cool shoes, pants, was I wearing the latest haircut? I worried about whether or not girls liked me. Oh, this was a biggie! I was very concerned with how I came across to girls. I remember having a crush on a girl and speaking to her, only to say something totally nerdy and cringing, pain shooting through my gut, as if I were going to puke. Of course, there was also gym class, where, in eighth grade, as many of the other boys were hitting puberty, I was, regrettably, only getting chunky and remaining hairless. One very tall eighth grade boy looked down on me from above and proclaimed, "Kyle, did you shrink?" I felt like I had shrunk.

Scenes like this one had a lasting impression on me into high school. While I eventually stopped trying to get into the popular crowd, I was still keenly aware of how I came off to people. Especially my sophomore year I wanted to make sure that I didn't seem to care too much, but I didn't want to be a loner either. Or maybe I did want to be a loner. Screw those other people! What do I care what they think. I'll be my own person and do my own thing. So, I sat in my room and learned guitar and wrote angsty, dramatically selfish songs set to three or four chords strummed out on my mom's acoustic guitar. I was also in theatre and band, where the other weird people were. But, they weren't that weird, because oddly enough I still felt like an outcast.

At the end of my sophomore year in high school one of my teachers sat me down and basically gave me a "stop feeling sorry for yourself" talk. At least that's how I ultimately interpreted it, and that's how it was used. I had a new outlook on life. I was to take matters into my own hands and decide my own future, instead of blaming people for my shortcomings. After that year my brother went off to college. I began to learn about college life and how things there are different. People were kinder, cared less about popularity and stupid things like this. They judged the person and not the clothes.

I entered my Junior year with a new attitude. While I made more and closer friends than I'd had in the past, there was still this itching feeling that I was disliked or disrespected. Those close to me liked me, but there were those who didn't want to get to know me. I always thought that it was because they knew the old me and had a preconceived idea of who I was. Even though I cared less what others thought of me, I still wanted them to like me! My new goal was to simply ride out high school and get to college. In college no one would be able to say "in jr. high Kyle was this," or "Kyle freshman year, he did that." I would be able to reinvent myself as someone everyone loved. The way it should be.

And, that's basically what I did. I was able to endear myself to a very tight group of people who became my best friends. Most of those people I am still close to, or at least keep in contact with. College was an excellent boost to my self-esteem. Even with people who didn't warm up to me, it was a non-issue, because I was loved and appreciated by my group. Even though I had friends in high school, some were even close, I was never part of a "group." The belonging made all the difference. I could finally begin a journey to truly be myself, and be happy with that person.

Fast forward to 2007. I have now been teaching high school for 4 years, now. I see, on a daily basis the exact kinds of things that I dealt with in high school. One might think that someone who didn't like high school wouldn't want to go back, even as a teacher. There's always the evil side of a person that makes them want to "seek revenge" or something like that. It's weird. I have actually found myself forming bonds with kids, as a teacher, that I probably would have thought hated me. And then, I came to a realization. In jr. high especially, but high school also, every other kid was just as preoccupied worrying about their own mini-dramas that they didn't put nearly the kind of thought into me as I thought they had.

With all of this new found confidence you'd think that I was prepared to stroll into the reunion and be totally at ease and cool. Why not? That's how I am in pretty much every other situation. Or, else I'd have the fortitude to say that I don't even want to go to the damn thing, and mean it, and then not go.

But, I want to go! But, why, when,whenever I think about these people I revert back to the scared guy who was so afraid of saying something stupid or not getting invited to the parties. What's wrong with me.

I think the answer comes back to the reason that people go to reunions in the first place. I have this underlying feeling that the people who are going back to this thing are one of a few types of people. One, they've got a great, tight group of friends who've all decided that they're going back. These people never really lost touch anyway, but they have people to go with. I know that I'm not in that group. Two, there are people who genuinely knew lots of people and had lots of friends and would like to see what everyone's up to, nowadays. I would like to think that this is my group, but I fear that I'm in group number three. Three is the guy, or girl, who feels that they have something to prove. That high school dealt them a raw deal and that since bettering themselves they want to prove to the classmates who shunned them, that they are no longer shunable. They are basically going to be disappointed because, as I already stated, those other kids didn't think of them that way. Furthermore, this ploy is totally transparent, and no one is going to react with awe and surprise and remorse because you've got that six pack abs that so eluded you back in the day. They don't remember being a tool to you in high school. They might still be a tool, who knows? I don't think that I'm in this group, or at least I hope I'm not. Surely, I can't be, seeing as how I created the group.

At the end of the day, I suppose that I'm in my own little fourth group. The group of people who over think the reasons for going just like they over thought their own cosmic significance during high school to begin with. Or, maybe I'm just like everyone else. Scared that I haven't changed enough, or that I've changed so much that shouldn't even go, even though I really want to for some unknown reason. Maybe everyone else gets that feeling like they are revisiting old wounds whenever they encounter high school junk, and I should get over it and go, be myself, and know that it's going to fine, because I'm always fine. Part of my changed person is that attained confidence and self-esteem and I should just use it.

I'd be remiss to leave out the amount of confidence I get from my wife. Amanda is the kind of person that I always hoped that I'd marry. When I'm with her I feel totally in control because she wouldn't love me if I weren't the person who I am. And she knows me for the person I truly am. I can't help but be myself with her with me, because she'd certainly call me on it. Plus, she's a smokin' hottie, and when she's with me how could I not feel like the man.

And one last quote from a great movie:

Okay, well, I'll see you at the "I've peaked and I'm kidding myself" party.

SiCKO

It doesn't take much to dislike Michael Moore. Friends and relatives of mine have expressed their dislike for the man, some to the point of hatred. These aren't people whom I would consider to be ultra-conservative or right wing on many accounts, but they are probably right of center on many things, like gun control, gay rights, fiscal matters, abortion, or immigration. They are mostly very reasonable people who have reasonable opinions on these issues, even if they are different than my own. They all characterize Moore as divisive, crazy, a blow-hard, an idiot, and a liar. They also might make fun of his weight, but I can forgive this criticism, as he is a large man, however irrelevant this may be. I suppose that my friends and family feel that his movies, (as well as his books, though I doubt many of them have read them) point to a hypocrisy in him as someone who has profited immensely while at the same time pointing out the greed in the world. People say that Michael Moore misrepresents people and situations to serve his point and disregard details that would rebut or discredit that point. One problem that people have with Moore is the method with which he tends to corner and put people in situations that do not allow them to accurately and fairly defend themselves against criticism, as he did with Charlton Heston in Bowling for Columbine. Many people have also pointed out that there are some inconsistencies and half-truths with Moore's film Fahrenheit 9/11, that discredit him and his messages.

I'm not going to debate whether or not facts were misrepresented in Bowling for Columbine or if Moore had everything 100% accurate with Fahrenheit 9/11. The fact is that the underlying motives for making these movies, I believe, are noble, and he goes about making his points and opinions in the best way he knows how. Yes, he makes the movies emotionally charged, as most Americans won't sit through a to the point bore fest about "just the facts" (Although, people sat through an Inconvenient Truth, but the same people generally hate that also). Yes, he has an agenda he is pushing and is using the media that is at his disposal to get his point across. These points are certainly his opinions which he is entitled to and he is entitled to present them in the most convincing way that he can. Does he lie? I don't believe he does. Does he present the side of an issue that best supports his point of view? Absolutely, he does. On the flip-side I think he does as good as any, if not better, at presenting the opposing view point of his own. I'm sure there are some who would take me to task on this, but it's just my own opinion.

SiCKO is no different than his other films on many levels. It attacks the super power alliance that is the corpogovernment amalgam in U.S. Politics. Who can dispute that corporate entities' financial ties with our dearly elected leaders as thick as the walls of Michael Moore's arteries. One thing that Moore does is blow the whistle on Democrats and Republicans, alike, as his new movie serves to prove.

Also, like his other movies, Moore is mainly concentrated on the middle-class's woes at the hands of afore mentioned entities and the misconceptions that we feed and perpetuate ourselves in our culture. In SiCKO, Moore interviews and case studies multiple people who are suffering from various diseases or illnesses who's claims have been denied for whatever reason. These people are hardworking, middle-class people who most would believe to be in good shape because they DO have health insurance, but are systematically denied it because they can't prove that they are owed it. Many of the people that are interviewed are former Health Care workers who have left the business because of the corruption and greed therein. They speak on how the business side of the health care industry relies on the ability for these companies to deny claims. They even found a woman whose claim was denied retroactively and she was forced to pay back the money she had been given for her doctor's bills due to the fact that she had failed to indicate a previous illness. The previous illness in question? A yeast infection!

Basically, what you have is a system that is presumably set in place to help people when they need to pay for doctors bills and medicine. You pay into a pool from which you can draw when you need it. It sounds like a great plan, except the reality is that the health care companies actively work to deny the claim instead of giving what is deserved. It is as if you bought a car and after making all the payments you have it repossessed because you forgot to sign the last page of the sales agreement.

What strikes me the most, however is that even when the system works, it serves to deplete the person of their livelihood. At the beginning of the movie Moore followed a couple in their 50s who have to move in with their 20 something daughter's family because they couldn't afford to keep their house. The husband had two heart attacks and then the wife contracted cancer. After co-pays and deductibles they were forced to sell their house and move in with their daughter's cramped basement. Moore follows people with all levels of wealth in other Westernized countries such as Canada, the U.K., and France. (Oh, and Cuba, but that's another matter, completely.) What he finds in each of these countries is that something such as heart attacks and cancer, which, along with the understandable fear and painful physical toll, would also prove to be a major financial burden here in the U.S., are not going to make any difference to the sick or injured person's pocketbook. It is completely free. They will pay nothing for any medical services they receive.

The major problems that the U.S. are given for why we don't want to move to universal health care such as they have in Canada or the U.K. are pretty flimsy. They say that the quality of the care will diminish and that the conditions of the medical facilities will falter if universal health care is implemented in the U.S. They also imagine the lives of doctors must be taken down a notch because, without people paying out the nose, how can doctors still be paid as much as American doctors.

SiCKO addresses all of these problems. Going to the countries themselves, Moore interviews people who make decent wages, own property and would be considered well off, even, who take advantage of Government run medica facilities. As one Canadian woman accurately states, there is always something to complain about, but at the end of the day they never have to wait at the E.R. longer than an hour and walk out without paying a dime. In some cases there is a cashier, but his job is to reimburse those with lower incomes their transportation costs. *RUBS EYES* Whaaa?!

Contrast that to my own experiences with the emergency room.

Last September I was in the Sterling High School auditorium finishing up sets and lights for a production of Romeo and Juliet. I was walking down the steps from the stage to the house floor when, in total darkness and looking at my remote lighting controller, I took a step thinking I was at the bottom of the steps. I wasn't. I turned my right ankle pretty badly and found that I couldn't put any weight on it. I went to the emergency room at 10:30 that night thinking that I had insurance and wouldn't have to pay for much more than a co-pay. Maybe $100, tops. It turns out that this was a workers comp issue and I wouldn't have to pay anything at all. I just had to fill out some forms when I got back to work and everything would be taken care of. At the emergency room itself, I waited for a good three hours before being x-rayed and then another hour or so to see a doctor. I was finally wrapped up, given some crutches and told that I owed $400 dollars. I didn't have that on me or in my checking account, at the time, so I somehow convinced the ER to let me pay $40 and go. When I got to school I filled out the paperwork, and was told everything would be taken care of by workers comp. In the next month or so I received a letter in the mail saying that the workers comp company wouldn't cover my expenses for some reason. I have made multiple phone calls to district employees, Board of Education people, and collecting agents who have all told me things would be taken care of, and yet I'm still receiving notices that I owe 500 plus dollars. Now, if this were a deductible or something like that, no one has told me this. As far as I've been told I shouldn't owe anything.

That's the efficiency of this system we have.

It is with this experience that I approached SiCKO, by Michael Moore. I'm insured, I work, I own a car, pay my bills and yet I'm being screwed by this system that wouldn't even be an issue in any other civilized society.

Speaking of civilized societies, SiCKO spends about the last 30 minutes of the film on a segment in a country that most Americans would categorize as third world. It's not exactly Ethiopia but Cuba is certainly a poor country with very little to show for itself in terms of resources or political power. The U.S. won't do business with Cuba because of the atrocious way their leader treats his own people and work to oppress their human rights. In terms of quality of life, people here in the U.S. would be considered on the bottom rung of society if we lived like those with the median level of income in Cuba. A trip to Cuba to receive medical attention would seem to be a ridiculous down grade. But, that's just what Moore and some of the people from the movie who have been denied coverage in the U.S. do. First, along with the lady who moved into her daughter's basement, three people who contracted illnesses while volunteering at the World Trade Center ground zero were brought to Guantanamo Bay to the prison medical facility there. This is where Al Qaeda's "enemy combatants" are kept, without a trial, but with plenty of free, quality health care. When they are turned away (for obvious reasons) they decide to check out the island country of Cuba, itself. They quickly and easily find a pharmacy where one woman finds the exact medication she buys in the U.S. for $120 for 5 cents. One of the most poignant moments of the film for me was when they leave the pharmacy this woman breaks down weeping at the price of the drug in Cuba. "It's just insulting" she says, as she revels in how much she has to pay in America for something that cost less than a candy bar in Cuba.

From the Pharmacy the team goes to a hospital where each of them are treated for free by the hospital staff. It is here that I begin to loose my own cool, a bit. Mr. Moore has done this to me in each of his films. Call me a sucker or easily manipulated or just maybe too sensitive, whatever, I begin to feel the pangs of sympathy welling up in my eyes and throat as these people who volunteered their time, their energy, their money, their bodies and their health at the World Trade Center are finally getting their due. And, not because the country that they so loved wanted to give it to them, but because they went around the system to a country that we, as a nation, are supposed to despise.

This part of the film where Moore's crew goes to Cuba is what I've heard take the brunt of the criticism from those who oppose it. I'll be the first to admit that SiCKO paints a pretty picture of Cuba and makes Fidel Castro seem like little more than a harmless grandpa. Anyone with a mind and some knowledge on Cuba at all knows that this man isn't a saint and has kept that country in his grip of power, without allowing many of the human rights that we take for granted. But, doesn't it say something when Castro, with all that he denies his people, grants them better health care than the U.S. government grants us? Shouldn't it piss us off that to get the quality medical treatment that Cubans get for free under an oppressive regime, we have to be wealthy? The moment that it all came crumbling down for me was when the Cuban doctor comforted the American, middle-class, professional woman who was crying in a hospital bed because she couldn't believe how much care she was getting, and for nothing. We've been taught to fear and loath this government. I just kept thinking to myself, over and over, "What is wrong with us? What is wrong with us?" tears rolling down the faces of Amanda and myself.

So, what is the answer. SiCKO director Michael Moore's solution seems to be a cross between civil disobedience and revolt. Depending on one's opinion of Moore, a person could take the message to mean that we should start electing better leaders or that we should stop being polite. Some might even think that Moore wants the people to take up arms and storm congress. I don't think that's what he wants. I think he wants people to pay attention. People don't bother worrying about health care and how much it costs and the damage that the system does to our well-being until they are the one's dishing out thousands of dollars of their savings so that a loved one can stay alive. It's not until they are the one's burying their child because the nearest hospital wouldn't take their HMO that people are going to wake up and take notice.

Moore, as with all of his movies is trying with SiCKO to encourage the people to practice their rights as the sovereign of our nation and stop being squeezed by corporations who know that we have to behave or else we won't make money to pay back them so that we can have health care that may or may not work anyway. Moore may take liberties in order to tell stories but he tells them well, and he gets his point across. I hope that people will see this movie with an open mind and see it for what it is. It's not a self aggrandizing diatribe to make himself some money. It's not some communist plot to take over the nation. It is about taking care of each other and treating people how we would hope to be treated if we were in the same spot.

Mac or PC

Apparently I only post videos now. Oh, well.

How Did They Know?