"Lost" is Losing Itself

After a night of food and pool with E, and collecting C from the subterranean metal-smithing forges of the EMU underbelly, many fresh baked cookies (thanks other E!) were mixed with vodka tonics while watching the new episode of "Lost". After a promising episode last week, the writing has once again strayed from the bizarre themes and characters that are interesting. Although I appreciated the generic brand Dharma BEER, character dynamics were uninspired. The hippy van in the jungle was mildly amusing, but then it reminded me how much I am annoyed by hippies in general (especially the ones in Eugene).

My general attitude on hippies is reflected in this inspired quote from the one true cinematic masterpiece:

"Children of Doom, Doom's children, it is they who told my master how to find his way to the Mountain of Power. They told my lord to throw down his sword and return to the earth.
HAH! Time enough for the earth in the grave!"

I will not miss the endless supply of hippies when I move from Eugene.

An additional thanks to C for her industrious metal production. She made many inspired trinkets for a variety of people - not least of which includes a metal bracelet stamped with "Credite Ferro" (Trust in Steel) for yours truly.

A Quashed Socialist Revolution in the Depths of Space

As I was watching mindless TV in hopes of allowing my brain to decompress, following hours of stuffing my head full of Greek verbal forms, I was mildly amused by the failed class-based revolution fomented by Baltar on the new Battlestar Galactica. Even in outer space, the great revolution to impose social justice falters due to moderation for partial reforms, the leadership of a corrupt demagogue, and the ruthlessness of those protecting their own power structure. This latest defeat must come as a particular blow to my Marxist friends drowning in their own frustrated idealism. As I have said to you on many occasions, you must entice amoral and heavily armed mercenary types with vast quantities of drink, food, and coin to implement the initial stages of your plan. Once these enforcers have succeeded in bringing down the opposition, you off them in their drunken stupor of victory before they set up their own feudal aristocracy. Until you Marxist's figure out how to implement this on a grand scale, you will remain trapped in the capitalist quagmire of personal greed and self-serving justification. As you gradually age, you will be yuppified by frustration, futility, and laziness as time exacts it's merciless toll from your zealous ambition. Remember - "Life is pain princess, anyone who says otherwise is selling something" - Paraphrased freely from the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A Self-Indulgent Rant Inspired by a Rainy Saturday

After a painful workout in the rec center, in which I attempted to beat back the deterioration of my battle ravaged and severely damaged body, I was forced to run back in a typical rainy day in Eugene. As I frantically sprinted through the rain, a song randomly blared from my ipod that contained rare political commentary from the usually soulless and hedonistic days of old school 80's metal.

"The white man came across the sea
he brought us pain and misery
he killed our tribes
he killed our creed
he took our game for his own need
we fought him hard, we fought him well
out on the plains we gave him hell..."
(second verse from Anglo-Saxon perspective)
- "Run to the Hills" - Iron Maiden

After seeing and discussing "Amazing Grace" with E and C last night, prompting deconstruction of the capitalistic and imperialistic nature of slavery and European expansion, it resonated in my head that I am the frontier by-product of Anglo-Saxon and Germanic subjugation of my great-great maternal grandmother's Native American tribe. I exist as a very small remnant and mixture of the imperial expansion of one civilization imposing it's frontier upon another civilization. Although I am obviously a member of the dominant civilization, trace elements of the other remain; my grandmother remembers her grandmother riding off to the hills for days when angry and fed up with the world, or my great-great grandfather. Hence, my maternal ancestry is a feisty mixture of a warlike native tribe combined with Saxon, Celtic, and Hunic invading hordes from Europe. This unstable brew combines with my paternal ancestry that contains very direct links to political agitators like John Brown and William Bradford. It must be the genes that make me so annoyed and disenchanted with the world. I simply despise authority in all forms, unless it emanates from me imposing my will on the world. Oh well, now I must sell my soul and jump through bureaucratic hoops in preparation for a test on Monday. Alas, I don't like having to subjugate and tame my inherent nature to exist in the present world.

Forgive such a self-indulgent rant, or I will have you contemplate this on the "Tree of Woe" for your insolence. Have a Nice Day!

Major Syllabus Exam

As I write this, Sasha is enduring his major syllabus exam on the WWII Eastern Front. I think it will be followed by a sojourn to Rennie's in order to provide an appropriate respite from academic drudgery on a Friday afternoon. My head nearly exploded in Greek this morning in a way that suggests I should reduce the inflammation of the brain cells with moderate to large quantities of appropriate spirits.

P.S. For disturbing images of a strange and unclassifiable sea creature check out this beast.

That is all!

Descending from my Mountainous Lair into the Infernal Basin of Los Angeles

At the specific request of Kungfuramone, I relay the details of my Five-Year Fellowship to study Ancient History at UCLA. After years of study, I hope to establish a benevolent tyranny that casts aside the present world order. Until then, no teaching in years 1, 4, and 5 with a high-end yearly stipend that obliterates my present funding situation by considerably more than two-fold, plus the inclusion of all tuition, registration fees (Yay, no fees! - unlike some places), and health insurance. Years 2 and 3 contain a TA-ship provision which has the bonus perk of an additional paid summer month in Rome accompanying selected students from the Roman Empire course I hope to TA for. An additional year of external supplemental funding is anticipated to work around a classical archaeological site in the Mediterranean. Of course, all of this is dependent on my continued assimilation of at least 5 languages, in addition to the successful completion of 3 oral comprehensives, and a written, before I get to write anything of academic substance. With this daunting task laid before me, I will retreat to my mountainous lair this summer in order to purge my mind before the descent into the labyrinth of lost souls that is Los Angeles. Fortune favors the bold!

Crossing into the Abyss

This is my initial venture into the nefarious netherworld that is the blogosphere. I have resisted being corrupted for as long as possible. However, my impending move to UCLA, and the corrupting temptations of the City of Fallen Angels, has caused me to cast away my virtue in a hedonistic display of indulgence. I expect Orcus to ascend from the depths and carry me off to the halls of perpetual shade at any time. In reality, I have found the ability to keep track of departed friends with limited effort a useful tool. Isn't laziness a powerful force? Congrats to El Machetito on his great funding and impending move to the midwest!

As always: Bibamus, moriendum est!