In absentia

Summer 2006

a list for the hell of it

screaming stinker
sunshine getting big too fast

The 5-string

Tool-10000 days

Yellow Tail Shiraz

Craftsman lawn tractor

The Current River

The end of Jive Market

Heat - lots of it

freelance buttkickin

ADHD no mo little bro

one brown mouse

Anaheim peppers out the wazoo

many hats

happy place

a hammock.......
and a beer

My Dad

My Dad died.
He was a great man, and a great dad, and an awesome pa-pa to my kids.
He lived a great life, and he made me who I am today.
I have so many things to say, that I’m not really capable of writing this post yet, but I’ll get there........I Love You Dad

which way should we go?

In the junk

I'm Back!

not really

Dear Blog of Lonster

Man, I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this, but I can't think of a good way. You've been there for me through thick and thin, through good times and bad. You've given me the opportunity to vent my frustrations and exercise my limited creativity. You've been my muse. You always listen, even when I'm bored and uninspired, or when I'm angry, or when I'm cheesy and gushing. You've tolerated my stories from way back when, and stories about the insignificant crap that happens to me day to day. You've never complained, and I know you'd put up with me no matter how idiotic I might be. Thanks for being there blog, you've been a great friend to me, but I've always felt that you deserved more. I've wanted you to live up to your potential, but haven't always given you the support you needed. You could be so much more. I may come back and visit you now and then, but...... I'm leaving you. Maybe someday down the road we can make it work again, but for now, I'm history. I'll be thinking about you, and Thanks again. So.... high five Blog of Lonster! I'll catch ya on the flip side. Bye!

Your friend,
Lonster

back in the day

Last night, in the spirit of Valentines Day, me and Q pulled out boxes of old pictures and laughed for hours. There’s not much sense in having so many photos hiding away in boxes, so we’re pulling out bunches of ‘em and making a collage to frame and hang proudly. Last night we went through about 5 years of pictures.......... our first 5 years together, and still have 7 more years of pictures to go. The first 5 years are in a different box, because after that Miss Sunshine (and a whole new era) was born. The years since then have been the best years of my life, but those first 5 years whooooowweeeeeee!........what a time that was.
There were pictures of us through every stage of our relationship. The day I proposed, the days we graduated from college, the day we got married, and the many, many days that we partied our butts off in celebration of life. We all looked so young back then. There are pictures of Skinny D, Tomgost, and the man formerly know as mothheart with skinny faces, ex-wives, goofy grins and long hair. I got to see Malcolm and Patty, Andie and Billy, beautiful tiny Katie, gclark and hundreds of people that I haven’t seen in years. I got to see pictures of Thackeriah, Skinny D and the Taylor girls long before they knew that would someday become an extended family. Of course we were all much younger, but even more striking was the looks in our eyes. They shined with the unburdened exuberance of youth. We were still at the beginning, and we were gathering the energy required to have kids and mortgages and careers. It was the part of life that defined who we were and what perspectives we would carry into the future.

To my former self: High 5 sucka!

Massacre of the Snout

The pristine blanket of snowy whiteness is now gone, all that remains is the 1 foot tall remnant of the snowman the kids made with Q, surrounded by a sea of mud.

1. My Golden Retriever, Bilbo, has his own ½ of our backyard, and like a good dog should, he makes sure that there is as little grass as possible in his area. Now of course, his yard is a nasty mud pit, so Me and Q decided that we should put him out in the grassy half of the yard yesterday to minimize the muddy skankiness that would surely ensue if we put him in the mud pit.

2. Theres a privacy fence around the back yard. It’s been there for years, and one particular board has a soft spot that soaks up moisture, and over the years has developed a hole about the size of a dog nose.

3. On the other side of that fence are 2 pit bulls.

4. Bilbo was quite excited to finally roam freely around the “human” half of the back yard yesterday. There was all sorts of new places to “mark” and grassy places to roll around in, and some fun dogs on the other side of the fence, making interesting dog smells and sounds. To top it all off, there was a fine hole in the fence just perfect for sticking his nose through to check it out!

5. He did

6. The pit bull inserted Bilbo’s snout into his giant jaw, locked down, and flailed about with abandon.

7. I then got a call from Q, who was crying and scared. She heard the blood curdling commotion and wailing in the backyard, and saw Bilbo leaving the hole in the fence with a bloody head. So I jumped in the truck and sped home from work. I was scared to death. I didn’t know what to expect. When I got home, he was OK. His snout is torn up and bloody, but he escaped from the jaws of death with only superficial wounds. I took him to the vet, who cleaned his wounds and gave him some antibiotics. Good Old Bilbo is about 13 years old now; his golden locks are turning to grey, and his teeth are getting little. I Love the old guy, he’s an awesome dog. I hate to see anything unpleasant to happen to him, but he’s gonna be fine.

High 5 Bilbo!

yeah....it snowed

Well, my wish came true. At least 1/2 true. I woke up this morning with visions of snowmen and sleds dancing through my brain. I flipped up the blinds and sure enough, the world was blanketed with the pristine whiteness of my wish come true. I turned on the TV and within minutes, confirmed that Miss Sunshines school was closed. Grinning from ear to ear, I walked to the front of the house while contemplating which boots would be the best for a day full of snow-day activities. As I opened the blinds in the living room to verify that I wasn't dreaming, a car whizzed by on the jet black street which was untainted by the winter storm. I dragged my sorry butt into the shower, got dressed and ready to go. As I prepared to leave the house, my little buddy stared out the window with glistening eyes, oohing and awwing and saying "Snow?". Miss Sunshine begged me to stay home, but I had no choice but to walk out the door begrudgingly and come to work. My little buddy got to build his 1st snowman without me, but I think Q got some of it on video.

Next time buddyman.......we'll make the gnarliest snowman ever!

Snow?

They've said it before, and they're saying it again. Tonight its gonna snow.
I wanna believe them, I really do....but I'm not puttin any money on it. So far this year it hasn't happened, and last year we got just a few tiny snowstorms that followed days of rain and just hid the mud for a few hours.
The year before that though, we got some good snow, the kind that results in impromptu days off from work and school, the kind that brings multiple giant snowmen into the yard and ramshackle igloos created by blocks of snow in the shape of a cooler. The kind that keeps people from driving up or down the suicide hill that separates my neighborhood from the rest of the civilized world and leaves the streets open for giggling kids with seldom-used sleds and saucers.
I feel lucky that we live far enough north to get the occassional snow, but far enough south to not get slammed by it 3 months straight.
Bring it on!

The ConstruKction of Light

I recently purchased a copy of The ConstruKction of Light by King Crimson, and I had to say something. This band has been around a long time and have disappeared from the radar for years at a time, only to re-emerge in a new form with a new album. The music is very left brained and mathematical, yet it always evokes strong emotions. There are songs that make me feel like I’m floating weightlessly in ethereal bliss, and there are songs that make me feel like I am smashing a stone wall with a 2 ton hammer. I welcome it all with open arms, and not too many artists can illicit such a response from me. King Crimson does though, and they do it over and over again. As the years bathe them in wisdom and skill, they continue to take their music a step further. Their last 2 albums, “The Power to Believe” and “The ConstruKction of Light” are awesome. There are a few moments on both albums that leave me underwhelmed and wanting something better, but without fail, the next moment arrivesm and I am lost in a sea of goosebumps and shudders. King Crimson have a knack for mixing math and art, science and emotion, love and hate, and life and death and creating a landscape of chaotic order which lifts me up and forces me to see the unobstructed magnificence of everything.

In other words: King Crimson rules

Endangered Scene

Last Friday night, my darlin wife and I headed out on the town with some dear friends. First of all, we had a blast. Q works her fingers to the bone day after day and deserves more than anyone to let her hair down now and again. We hit the scene around 10 and started off by going to a place that used to be an old hole in the wall that had live music, I personally have played there probably 30 times and even on the slowest of nights I had a blast. They closed that place down a while back, remodeled and opened it up as a new club. There isn't even a speck of the old place left. It was completely gutted and rebuilt, and I must say it looks awesome. In the old days, you could find many familiar faces; young folks and old folks and people that represent this fine city. This weekend I recognized no one; the club was populated with hundreds of 21-25 year old hipsters from the local university that moved in and took over. The placed looked great, but it made me sad.
So we finished our beers and went to Georges which is just down the street. There they were....all the familiar faces, I was relieved and stoked. Georges is the last stronghold of what was once a great center of live music and entertainment. One by one the good old places are closing down, and reopening for someone elses enjoyment, all in the name of "progress". We stayed out til the wee hours of the morning and had tons-o-fun.
Thanks Georges.

Hardcore

I've been having a blast listening to the music I used to dig back in the day. I recently added Soundgarden "Badmotorfinger" and Primus "Tales from the Punchbowl" to my collection, but while I was searching, I spotted some old favorites that inspired me to scour my memories and write a list of music I need to get my hands (ears) on.

DRI-Dealing with it
Corrosion of Conformity-Animosity
SOD- Speak English or Die
Slayer-Hell Awaits
Metallica-Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets
Destruction-Infernal Overkill
Celtic Frost- Morbid Tales
Possessed- Seven Churches

Now I'll print this out and stick it in my wallet for future reference.

2005!

Man… I just had an awesome vacation!
It’s over now of course, but I’m refreshed and ready to kick some major 2005 butt. Christmas was awesome. I could elaborate extensively, but instead I’ll just say that nothing compares to being with your children on Christmas morning. The kids were super good and beautiful and excited and happy. As we entered the living room Christmas morning, my 16 month old Buddyman hollered “Wowweeeeeee!” with 100% natural unadulterated glee.

We did a whole lot of visiting before Christmas, then a whole lot of not much after Christmas.
On New Years Eve, we packed up and headed to Devils Den. We had a cool old cabin in the woods, and our “real-life” neighbors had a cabin nearby. It was fun, and a good way to top off an already rad vacation.

Here are some vacation statistics:
Vacation Days: 16
Funniest Movie watched: Napoleon Dynamite
Favorite gift received: a kick-butt hat for when its freezing cold outside
Hours spent working: 0
Hours spent smiling: 100
Hours that I thought I was smiling but really wasn’t because my face hurt from smiling too much: 236
Hours spent shopping: 8
Number of visitors to our house: 12
Lowest temperature: 6°
Highest temperature: 68°
Most unfortunate disaster: Tsunami
Most consumed beverage: beer

See ya!

Well Folks, I’m outta here. I’m packin it up and headin for the future.

Happy Holidays!

Bye

Igor Stravinsky

Late last night, I was driving home from yet another recording session with the band formerly known as Jive Market, and I got to hear something that blew me away.

First, some History:

I first learned to appreciate Stravinsky at the age of 19, when a music professor played “The Rite of Spring” at full volume in its entirety. At the time, I perceived it as primordial speed metal. That was a stupid assessment, but there are a few choice excerpts from his works that chunk chunk chunk in true metal form. I know now that this is where the comparisons end. Those chunks were but small rhythmic ripples in a vast sea of genius. Stravinsky burned every rule of musical form, structure, and composition, and from the ashes rose some of the greatest music ever written. Stravinsky is a huge branch on the musical tree that eventually sprouted the likes of King Crimson, Yes and Tool. He was the godfather of modern progressive music.

Anyhoooo, I’ve acquired a few choice CD’s through the years, and one of my favorites has long been his “Symphony in C”. The CD I have is great, but I have no idea who played or conducted it. Last night I turned on NPR and heard this, “Here is Stravinsky’s Symphony in C as conducted by the composer himself.” I had goosebumps the whole dam time. I need to find this CD.

On a side note: My musical fantasy is to assemble a band to play “The Rite of Spring”. The recipe is as follows: 6 ripping guitarist with sounds ranging from clean and beautiful to superchunky and distorted; 3 bass players, 2 drummers, and a psychopathic virtuoso pianist with an insane keyboard. All strings and wind instruments in Stravinskys arrangement would be played with multi-guitar, bass, and keyboard arrangements. The best way to accomplish this would be to take all the guys in Tool, King Crimson, Rush, Metallica, and Return to Forever, throw them in a studio, lock the doors, and not let them out until they're done. I don't think they'd appreciate that, but I'd have a hell of a CD to listen to. And when they finish “The Rite of Spring”, I’ll make them do “The 4 Seasons” by Vivaldi and “Brandenburg Concerto #5” by Bach.

The Gates of Hell

I have the urge to post something, but I don't have the urge to write anything.
That being said, heres an old post from February 2004.

The Gates of Hell

As the band arrived for practice last night, Jeremiah informed us that there was an evil 6-toed cat presently occupying the studio. We lugged our equipment in, and started setting up. When I leaned over the couch to plug my amp into the wall outlet, I saw the cute kitty cat curled into a fluffy ball. I struggled to maneuver the plug into the poorly lit outlet behind the couch, when suddenly, the fluffy kitty hurled its crazy body towards my fumbling arm. His mouth was open unnaturally wide, like a cobra striking with its jaw unhinged. Its claws were extended and it emitted an ungodly scream. The cat, (we’ll call it Satan) stopped short, then turned around and bolted like a demon through the labyrinth formed by various pieces of furniture and equipment to find a new hiding place. He did…. and for a while, we forgot about the cat. A few minutes later, we heard a new sound. It was like the squealing hinges on the gates of hell. As the gates opened wider, the painful sounds of eternal damnation overtook the squeal of the un-oiled hinges, and chills ran up our spines. It was Satan, he was behind the guitar amp now. Satan had entered the studio in a cat-carrier, and Jeremiah decided that perhaps Satan would be more comfortable and less threatening if he was in a quieter place. He approached Satan, and the gates of hell were thrown wide open. Satans wings unfurled as he took flight. He ran under, over, and through everything in the room leaving a pentagram of fury and cat-hair in his wake. Jeremiah finally got his hands on Satan, who dug his teeth and claws as deep as possible into Jeremiahs mortal flesh. He chewed and scratched and attempted to kill Jeremiah with all his might. But Jeremiah would not be beaten. Finally, he was banished to the cat-carrier, and removed from the studio. Jeremiah returned with streams of blood running down his hands and arms, and skin flapping from his hands and fingers. He cleaned his bloody wounds and sat down to gather his wits.
Satans master then entered the room, angry as hell, because Jeremiah was “mean” to Satan….. Jeremiah banished him too……….

Tiny

I’ve been resisting writing this for a long time, but I can’t hold back any more.

I work with a guy I’ll just call Tiny. Tiny isn’t a bad man, he isn’t stupid or mean or evil, but he makes me crazy. Tiny stands about 6’-1” and weighs about…hmm…I’d guess about 400 lbs. He sees himself however, as a 6’-10” 300 pound man, which he’s not. He’s just a buddha shaped fat guy that thinks he’s a gnarly giant man.

His next overwhelming feature is his voice. It’s huge. This is the loudest talkin mofo I’ve ever known in my life, and his mouth is approximately 9 feet from my ear hole for 40 hours a week. When he decides to say something, he doesn’t just say, “Hey, blah blah blah”. Instead, he rises from his tortured office chair with his phone headset around his giant neck, (which isn’t much smaller than his oversized-bald on top-hair in the back-mullet head) and begins his oration like a king addressing his subjects. He scans the office until eye contact is made, and bellows thunderously towards the unfortunate eye-contact maker for an indefinite length of time. When it’s work related, he usually just wants to tell someone about the stupidity of the person he just dealt with, or the problems he’s having with the software he’s using. Once he gets started and his giant gears start turning, however, the minor point he originally intended to relay snowballs into an unstoppable juggernaut. All you can do is break eye-contact and act like you aren’t listening anymore. This really doesn’t help much. He simply re-scans the office, without pausing, until new eye-contact is made, and continues talking as if the new “listener” were listening the whole time.

If someone actually expresses interest or participates in his conversation, he removes his headset, walks to the interested party’s desk, bends his giant body 90 degrees at the waist and relaxes on his elbows. This is absolutely horrifying. The sight of this from any angle would “scare the vultures off a guts wagon” (Tiny’s own phrase).

The real treat though, is when he starts a-talkin about his life. Oh, what a life he’s lead. The tales are as tall as they are loud. They almost always start as “when I was in college”. For example, when he heard me talking about my deck building progress with a co-worker, he chimed in and started telling us that when he was in college he built decks, and one guy hired him to build a 2000 square foot deck with curved handrails, multiple levels, curved benches, fire pits, and blah blah blah blah, and to top it all off, he built it with mahogany. When someone started talking about some silly practical joke they pulled off once, he said that he filled the principals office to the ceiling with water and catfish. You get the picture.

Oh yeah……and he stutters.
6.4 on the Richter scale

dog ball

Only 6 work days left, then I'm off for 2 solid weeks. Woohoo!
I'm so deep in work right now, I can barely see freedom on the horizon.
Anyone have a snorkle?

My buddyman is crackin me up these days with his full length sentences of baby gibberish. He's got the inflections and punctuation right, but still needs to work on his enunciation. His latest infatuation is with dogs. "Dog?" (with forefinger extended) He finds them everywhere, on books, calendars, t-shirts, magazines....... it's amazing how many images of dogs are in the world. I never realized it until he started pointing it out to me.

Another favorite of his: "Ball"
He about jumped out of the cart as we went down the decorative ball aisle at hobby lobby last night. Who buys those things anyway? There were hundreds of them. I'm surprised he has a voice left after hollering "ball" 50 times in a row. He was in ball heaven, man.

Later!

Tis the season

This weekend, our house will be magically transformed from a normal family dwelling, into a festive shrine with flashing lights and plastic facsimiles of trees, branches, berries and holly. There will be small figures of bears singing carols and wearing their warmest scarves and coats while longing for hot cocoa. There will be strategically placed candles surrounded by beds of garland. There will be Nativity scenes, carousels, Christmas villages, toy soldiers and Santas, and there will be a 1 year old tornado marveling at the abundance of new objects to throw and kick and smack with toy dinosaurs.

True Story

About this time of year in 1994, I went to the local BP gas station by the railroad tracks, to fill up the gas tank and get some tasty snacks. When I went to the counter, there was a man in front of me. He looked rough. His flannel shirt and jeans were torn and stained and he smelled really bad, his matted long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his boots looked like they’d walked a thousand miles. He asked the clerk for a pack of smokes. She handed him the Marlboro reds, and he grabbed a lighter from the rack then turned around and walked out without paying. The clerk started yelling at him as I stood there with a bag of chips and twenty dollar bill in hand. He never turned around, he just walked out the door packing his free smokes with a steady rhythm. A manager came out and started out after him, but before he could catch up with the man, he put a smoke between his lips, flipped the switch on the gas pump, held the nozzle over his head and doused himself with gallons upon gallons of gas. He slowly raised his hand in which he held the lighter and acted like he was gonna light his smoke. The manager stopped fast and ran back inside. He picked up the phone, dialed 911, and started relaying the events of the past minute in an understandably panicked voice. The clerk, though shaken, managed to complete my transaction and I walked over to the window. I didn’t have the guts to just walk out there while the potentially explosive figure stood by my car with the lighter in his hand, so I stood there gawking while the employees scurried and yelled about the potential disaster. He stood there watching us. After a few minutes, I heard the police coming. The gas-soaked man turned around and ran full speed across the street to the Catholic Church, opened the doors and disappeared inside. Since my safety was no longer an issue, I left. There was nothing left to see. Later, I heard that he had a nice talk about life with the priest before being arrested and hauled away.

I’m thankful I’m not that guy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

studio update

Well things are progressing as expected in the studio. We hit a snag Sunday night after laying down 5 tracks, but solutions are in the works. So far it’s taken a few takes to nail each song, but that’s not a surprise. Every time we get to the end of a song and I feel like it was perfect, the lead guitarist cries foul and insists on a retake, so we do it again and again until everyone’s happy with it. We still have a lot of songs to lay down, and it’ll be a grand adventure. I love the feeling of immersing myself in one song and focusing on it and it alone. During a gig, I’m always glancing at the set list and preparing myself for the next song. We’re all taking a break until Thanksgiving is over, and then we’ll get back to work next Monday. It’s pretty dam exciting. Even if no one else wants one, it’ll be personally satisfying to have this chunk of my life forever carved in stone.

More good news: Zenmaster has volunteered to do the design the cover.
High 5 sucka!

Happy Thanksgiving yo!

Office Food Day

Today is the day that everyone brings food to the office for a pre-Thanksgiving feast. There’s a giant table about 20 feet from my mouth that is spilling over with plates of cookies, crackers, brownies and cheeses. There are pans full of casseroles, meat, and cakes, bowls full of dips, bags full of chips, crockpots full of soups, little sausages, chili, and cheese dip. There are boxes of donuts and jars full of salsa. The most notable items at the table, however, are the people. How people behave in this situation reveals a lot about them.

The grazers: These folks go to the table intermittently and walk away from the table with their mouths full. These people tend to actually get work done, despite the constant distractions.

The pickers: These people look at every option with intense scrutiny and walk away with only a carrot and a brownie.

The gatherers: People in this category grab a spoon and start shoveling everything within reach onto their tiny Styrofoam plate until it reaches its maximum capacity. This occurs when the height of the food pile is equal to the radius of the plate, and when achieved, results in a perfect multi-colored hemisphere. Their goal is to have some of everything available before the day is done. These guys like to stand in the middle of the office while eating their mound of food, and have no chance of accomplishing anything today.

The hostesses: These people hover around the table and describe each item to food-getters. Like a helpful waitress, they know who brought each item, what it’s called, and how it was prepared. They constantly point out dishes which might be overlooked, and make sure everyone has the proper utensils for each food item. They are constantly stirring the food in the crock pots, and re-covering the dips after a careless dip-getter leaves the table.

The guards or Sergeants-at-arms: They remain stationed at or near the table at all times. These folks seem to have memorized everything that each person has eaten, and they taunt and harass people who exceed their “fair share” of the most desirable items at the table. They also ridicule the people from other parts of the facility, who have followed their noses to the table and helped themselves to the copious feast, without contributing to the bounty themselves. These folks talk the loudest and have food stains on their shirts.

The timid eaters: These people are always watching the tables from the corner of their eye, and when no one is paying attention, they scurry like a little mouse to the table, get food real fast, and then run back to their desks and eat quietly without making eye contact with anyone at anytime.

I fit into the grazer/picker category. I’ve brought a plate back to my desk once with a few goodies, and I’ve grabbed some tasty nuggets that caught my eye on my way back from the printer. I usually bring my lunch to work, but on food-day I decide not to, because there will be so much food. Then I get here and realize that there’s really nothing but dessert and meat. Since I’m not a meat-eater I end up full of crackers and cookies and chips and crap. I guess I just eat thing that start with C.

In the studio

Things are happening on the music side of my life. The band finally decided to start recording a new CD. Last time we did this, we had an excited lad with lots of computers and software and stuff do the recording. He did pretty good. The strongest part of the package last time wasn't the CD, it was the cover. Zenmaster went all the way and made it look awesome. He's got a lot on his plate these days, so I doubt we'll have the benefit of his artistry this time.

It all started with a respected friend who expressed interest in participating in a “better” recording of the band. The ball started rolling and we started putting the pieces together. First we moved all of our instruments into the studio, which is really a garage with acoustic tiles on the walls and an isolation booth with a glass door. Then we started running cables, setting up microphones, and basically building a recording studio from scratch. We have some talented and generous souls helping us out this time. We’ve got Baby Jason, who has devoted not only his time, but his house to this project. He’s pulling things together and makin it all happen. Boochie is a local sound guru who knows exactly what we need to pull this off, and exactly where every knob and fader needs to be to make it sound awesome. He’s making sure we get the best sound out of our instruments, through the mixers, and onto the hard drives. Then there’s Clam. He’s a local recording engineer, and knows all about the studio software. He’ll be the one who takes the tracks we record, and make’em phat. The whole process takes time and patience. My job: play the bass. Wish us luck.

The band formerly known as Jive Market will now be referred to as
EYEBALL ....well…….. maybe

Any suggestions?

Happy Birthday!

My littlest bro is stacking up the years just like the rest of us.
He's been more places and seen more things than most people see in a lifetime in only 28 years on the planet.
Thats right........ 28 years old!
High 5 brutha!

And to my Dad.....Happy Veterans day.
Thanks for all you've done for your family and for your country.
You're a true hero in my book.

Nation of Morons

I'm glad to say that the man formerly known as Mothheart is back.
Check him out
Welcome back sucka......

Benches

I finally finished something that’s being driving me crazy for months.
I finished building the benches on my deck. Doing so required some crazy compound miters on all the boards that make up the backrests and caused me months of anxiety. I ran through the process countless times while driving, eating, sleeping, etc. and now that its done, I feel a thousand pounds lighter. All that’s left are 2 sets of stairs and the railings.

So anyways…I went out last night, cracked open a cold beer, sat my happy ass down, and enjoyed the satisfying comfort of my new creation.

Ahhhhhhh………..

well put

I swiped this from Big Gray


The one thing we do not do is panic. With invective as treacherous and outrageous as any heaped at a candidate for national office in our history, John F. Kerry showed himself to be a man of courage, principle and commitment. He fought war against opponents who treat politics as warfare and came very close to winning. Of all the candidates who made themselves available, he was the best, and we should be grateful to him for his efforts.

The real disaster is on the legislative side. The country is in a very conservative mood, far more than I (for one) realized. For the first time in their history, Americans are about to experience what conservatism really means, and I am not sure they will be pleased with the results.

As the next few years unfold, Democrats should talk about such ideas as stewardship, responsibility, long-term consequences and other such ideas that are conservative in their own way, not conservative politically, but temperamentally. We are about to experience a very radical turn in our history. Reminding Americans that their traditions also embody respect for our society as a whole -- for its historic values, its beauty, its sense of the common good -- is the kind of conservatism to which people will respond when this particular version of our long national nightmare is over.

-Alan Wolfe

flabbergasty

It's impossible to say what I'm thinking right now.
I'm mad
I'm sad
I'm dismayed, flabbergasted, surprised, and shocked.
I've had the wind knocked out of me.
I think we're in more danger now than ever before.
I think I'm gonna scream.
The dumbest people I know suddenly think they're the smartest, and they're giving each other high-fives in the dark.
We all have a long road ahead, and I'm hoping for the best for all of us.
We had a chance to change things.....
49% of us knew what to do.
Good Luck everyone.