It started last night about six o’clock, during the football game. One long tweet or a double tweet-tweet, like somebody calling a dog. But sadly there are no dogs here, and no visible sign of the person who is standing outside, maybe under a tree or in one of the garages, whistling like an idiot. Well, not so much like an idiot as just a whistling idiot, right?

He – could be a woman, but I doubt it – does it about every 15 or 20 minutes. It went on for over 4 hours last night. It started up again this morning, around nine. That’s when I started yelling knock it off and stop that whistling. I think it’s stopped, but how can you be sure? It’s the kind of thing that just gets right on your last reserve nerve, and keeps you on edge waiting to hear it again.

We have a noise pollution problem here anyway. Loud car stereos, cars that can’t possibly have legal mufflers. We have a grocery truck that pulls into the condos and parks and plays La Cucaracha with its horn, which is illegal. I’m gonna get that guy; me and a few of the other owners. There are lots of kids, but that’s life in the big city. I would never ask children to play quietly. But I wonder if I’m starting to turn into a grumpy old (middle-aged) dick for wanting a little peace and quiet.

No. The world is getting more crowded all the time, and if we don’t learn to treat each other with courtesy and consideration, we’ll eat each other like crazed rats in a cage. There are 280 “families” here, and though we have a very nice setting, anything disruptive we do effects somebody else’s quality of life and property values. So Mr. Whistler better not start that stuff up again, ‘cuz I’ll find him. Have us a little roshambo.

I’m a little surprised that no one has left a comment on my last post yet, because that seems like the kind of thing people might have opinions about. Hmm.

It’s really cold here tonight. I don’t want to turn on my electric heating, ‘cuz it’s really expensive. But I might have to. It’s breezy and clear and colder than a welldigger’s monkey’s nuts. Or something. And I can’t find my sweatshirts – not even the old one with the cartoon characters – so they must be put away, high up in the closet. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow, when I don’t need them anymore. Mean time, I’m sitting here at the computer, wearing sweat pants, an old polo shirt, and a bath robe.

What are you wearing? Wait, don’t answer that.

That was a disappointing ending tonight, between Fresno State and Reno. The Valley boys put up a good fight, but it wasn’t meant to be. And just like last week, seems like turnovers and penalties played a big part in it. Didn’t see my (2nd) cousin in the game; hence, I suppose, the outcome. He has bruised ribs from getting hit in the USC game last week, but at Thanksgiving he was pretty confident of getting in the game tonight. … Maybe I just missed him. … It’s gonna be a long bus ride back to Fresno, I’m sure.

Hang in there kids, even a bad night of losing a game in college beats the hell out of life in the real world. Somebody stop me before I start quoting A.E. Housman.

Last year, I didn’t put up my Christmas lights until just days before the holiday. It made me a little sad, you know? Christmas came and went, and it felt like I never hardly saw it coming until it was gone. So it rang a little hollow.

Now it bears noting that I’m Russian Orthodox. My church celebrates liturgical events according to the Old Calendar, the Julian calendar. Our December 25 is January 6 on the modern calendar. The point being that I get to leave my lights up longer than you might, and not feel like a slob. And I get to have Christmas with family and again in Church, which is cool. But I digress.

This year I decided to start working on my Christmas spirit a little sooner, and put up my lights the night after Thanksgiving. I love Christmas, always have. This year will be a little bittersweet, without my grandparents and my best fuzzy friend. but I have my family and memories, and the story. Shepards abiding in the fields, keeping watch o’er their flocks, the angels, the manager, the newborn king.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. [Luke 2]

So tonight I stopped at Rite Aid on the way home and bought a set of Christmas lights, and strung them on the balcony. I’m going to try to get in the Christmas spirit earlier this year; perhaps earlier than I ever have. And I’m not going to let any forces close to me, if it can be avoided, wash the Christianity out of Christmas. It is not a secular holiday, it’s not for each his own personal relativism. It’s Christmas: the birth into the world of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and atheists, agnostics and the sect of the sugar plum teddybear deity should stop trying to show us Christians how we ought to observe it.

I’m not just talking about Santa Claus and commercialism. The mad dash for the X-Box. I’m talking about a trend to purge the holiday of its religious significance, to wrench it from the hands and hearts of Christians, because Jesus isn’t what some people want. They want reindeer and mistletoe, and just as soon we’d keep our Lord to ourselves.

My goodness, can you imagine the uproar of indignation and moral outrage if people started trying to tell Jews how to observe Yom Kippur or Rosh Hashanah? Let alone if we tried to co-opt Ramadan to be a cool way for everybody to lose weight. Blood in the streets … well, things might even get worse. Those things are sacred to people, and people who don’t observe keep their mitts off, as it should be. And so it should be with Christmas. Join us, celebrate, have a Merry Christmas. But if you don’t believe in Jesus, don’t act like He makes you uncomfortable and I shouldn’t mention Him. Christmas is all about Christ.

Thank you for your support. Here’s a funky little shot of my lights.

Or, if you’ve had a little too much eggnog:

It’s uncanny. This is exactly what happens when I go for a walk in my neighborhood.

I was just watching the Arts channel on cable. Woody Herman and His Swingin’ Herd, 1964.  There was this trombone player who was amazing, like somebody breathing in and out a kind of cool pain. Man, I wish I’d kept playing the trombone after high school, maybe in college, and gotten a good tutor.  If I could play like that guy, who’s at least in his 80s now, if he’s not dead, but he remembers he used to play like nobody’s damn business.  Sweet.

At the clear risk of being illegitimate and reprehensible, I say President Bush, Vice President Cheney and others in their administration lied outright and deliberately deceived Congress and the American people in order to gain support for the war on Iraq.

“What is not legitimate — and I will again say is dishonest and reprehensible — is the suggestion by some U.S. senators that the president of the United States or any member of his administration purposely misled the American people on prewar intelligence,” Cheney said.

And he thinks we’re stupid. He really believes we are all stupid.

Have you noticed that often when they show a movie on TV, they roll the credits really fast, and shove them off to the side, while they start a commercial?  I think this sucks.  I think a film is a work of art – for better or for worse – and that if it’s worth showing, it’s worth giving the people who worked on it due credit.  

“The blaze began Friday in foothills above expensive homes but none of the homes had burned and none was in immediate danger, fire officials said.” [Link]

I really wish the media would stop this, referring to homes as “expensive” when they’re threatened or destroyed. First of all, there’s no such thing as cheap real estate in California; everything here is expensive. And this isn’t the only place where that’s true. Those aren’t mansions in Ventura, they’re just houses that happen to be in a fire zone. Secondly, my home is no more important to me because it’s expensive than yours is to you, if you live somewhere less expensive. A home is somebody’s home, where somebody lives. It’s their biggest investment and the center of their life, whether it cost fifty grand or fifty million. The fire doesn’t care what it’s worth, and neither should we.

“If you want to win a battle, burn your ships.”


… food for thought, huh?

The Fresno State – USC game just ended. What a game, huh? Did you watch it? Those Valley boys played their hearts out, and really gave the Trojans a run for their money. It was one of the best games I’ve seen in a long time. Fresno dominated the first half, and though that wasn’t so much the case in the 2nd half, they still put up a hell of a fight. If not for turnovers, I think Fresno could’ve won. That would’ve been something, to beat the #1 – undefeated – team, and end USC’s huge winning streak.

I don’t usually watch football alone. It’s not much fun. I’ve always watched with my Dad and my grandfathers, so watching alone takes the whole thing out of context. But my cousin’s son plays for Fresno, so I thought I’d check it out. That was him fielding the kickoff with 3 minutes left. Took a big hit and I’ll bet he’s sore tomorrow.

I hope the Fresno guys don’t feel bad about not winning the game. It was a helluva fight. Winning isn’t everything, it’s only one of many things. And I do believe in moral victories.

In case you missed the roshambo link I posted last night, here it is again.  If you miss this, you’ve missed … something.

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, “Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”

The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water.

The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. The Lord said, “You have seen Hell.” They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The holy man said, “I don’t understand.” It is simple” said the Lord, “it requires but one skill. You see, they have learned to feed each other. While the greedy think only of themselves.”


[Received by e-mail from a friend today.]