Stray Voltage

Once found a drowned man in a tree after a Mississippi flood.

Once shook hands with both Rosalyn and Amy Carter--neato!

Highly intolerant of the stupid, ignorant, and intolerant, and woefully aware that there are more of them than there are of us.

Big on punctuation and spelling, and pronunciation.

Amazed and awed am I at the apparition of a woman in lingerie. Powerful and wily and incredibly sexy is the woman who has realized and accepted her gift of sexuality, and chooses to display herself in such a manner.

Open to new experiences in all things, but confident enough to state there are some things I just can't stand, like liver and theme park rides that spin.

Closet nerd.

Awed by the mangificence of Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, Jill St. John, Raquel Welch, and sickened by cookie-cutter blondes who can't seem to get enough to eat.

On the constant lookout for the danger in life created by the stupidly selfish and the selfishly stupid, especially on the road.

Love learning foreign languages, and pretty damn good at it.

Secretly afraid of being eaten alive by an animal.

Like all kinds of music except country/western and opera. Love ska and punk. Love jazz and blues, but not a big fan of hip hop. Love prog rock and nerd rock.

Disappointed by things like ballet, opera, and the Catholic church, examaples of what happens when you niggle and tweak and perfect and codify and categorize and dogmatize every single wretched aspect of an activity until it's a massive rote body of ritual and ceremony, not an expression of self or belief.

I cry each night, the tears welling up immediately when I give in to the emotion, when I tuck my two beautiful kids in, kiss them goodnight and tell them how much I love them.

Love to see monkeys in business suits.

Just love stories, Darwin awards, of idiots killing themselves by being stupid.

Never really understood the appeal of Howard Stern.

Think George W. Bush is an absolute moron (I mean, seriously, just listen to the guy try to talk extemporaneously, on any subject other than pork rinds or baseball), and what's worse, an idiot who thinks he's right, thinks he's doing something positive, and has been conditioned by a cabal of screamingly intelligent and far-thinking advisors (smart, sure, but so very dangerous to our country, its security, its integrity, its interests, and its future) to dismiss any dissent, no matter how small or empirically accurate, as a direct personal attack. His father may have been a wimp--I don't really know--but the guy had brains and integrity, and thought for himself; I'll give him that much.

Would love to have a 1997 BMW 840ci. Absolutely beautiful machines, one of a kind.

Wonder how it is that ultra-rich people can spend $5000 on a shower curtain, $60,000 on a wristwatch, or $1.2 million on a birthday party for a wife (or mistress), and then can look themselves in the mirror each day without vomiting in self-loathing and disgust.

Is it me, or is the call of the red fox something like a feral baby crying in the woods? Spooky.

Read a hand-me-down copy of The Grapes of Wrath in 10th grade English (closing on 25 years ago), and any number of years before something like an entire bottle of Charlie perfume had been dumped into its pages. I catch even the slightest whiff of this stuff anymore, anywhere, and I'm transported instantly back to the Depression and those unfortunate Okies.

Had an Indian (Mumbai) girlfriend after my first marriage. Imprinted me on Indian women forever. Met her via a personal ad. She was the wildest, most wicked, depraved, sexually ravenous thing I've ever encountered. Photo albums of her in all manner of sexy lingerie, bondage, explicit sexual poses, and then some. It was just a couple of weeks, and she was asking me to do things I thought only happened in the editor-penned pages of Forum. In the end, it was an ethical issue that had me walking out the door; she lied to her military Reserve unit commander about being sick so she could stay in bed with me and rut like an animal. Man, how about that for irony, having found this delicious and willing thing, and yet not being able to stand being around her because she was shirking her sworn military duty to stay and get it on with me? In the end, almost to my surprise, I dumped her. Thanks, Dad, for giving me a moral compass, and the scruples to put it to use.

Have never fired a weapon at a person, either intentionally or by accident.

Absolutely love the taste of a lame-ass cream cheese/clam dip I learned how to make from the side of a Snow's clam chowder can back in the mid-80s. Lots of garlic, lots of onions, lots of minced clams; it's nothing like the original recipe.

I often wish I had telekinetic powers to use for creative yet highly vindictive purposes, especially when I'm driving home.

Lost my virginity at age 18 as Santana' "Europa" played on my lame-ass Sanyo stereo. I'm still powerfully affected by that song, despite the less than powerfully evocative resonance of the encounter itself, other than to serve as instruction for future actions.

I'm not into ballet or modern dance in any way and generally consider it to be so stylized and grossly overdeveloped to the point of absurdity, but being forced to watch Baryshnikov and Hines in "White Nights" back in 1985 gave me considerable appreciation for the athleticism and power of these guys.

Never really liked Chevy Chase, especially after he left SNL.

Spent the majority of my adolescent formative years in Europe, specifically central Germany. I therefore have a considerable sexual hang-up for women with furry armpits. I don't dig hairy legs or the matted, aromatic tangle of a hirsute hippie triangle, but furry armpits get me every time.

Once voluntarily took a D- in 12th grade Honors English rather than finish and write a paper on The Scarlet Letter. I still despise that turgid glop. The teacher was a good shit about it, actually giving me a still-remembered pep talk on the importance of standing on principle (me refusing to read the book, and openly stating so to him), but still standing on his own principle to slam me on the grade (which I deserved and earned, of course).

My wife has some of the most beautiful lips I've ever seen on a woman, anywhere, anytime. Absolutely stunning. Put on a little bit of lipstick, and I'm in another dimension. My daughter has inherited these as well, the wondrously beautiful little thing.

I don't understand that in my neighborhood, where simple single-family homes sell for $900k and more, the goddamn people can't cough up $20 per family for the college students who coach their kids in swim. Over 100 kids on the swim team, and tonight the total collected was just over $50. It should've been more like $500. Fucking thoughtless hypocrites.

I cherish the opportunities to work late at night at the computer, dark outside, clear music streaming straight into my head through my beloved Sennheiser HD 570s.

So many stupid people out there, the stupidly selfish and the selfishly stupid. Able only to think of themselves, never about others, never thinking past the end of their cell phone, the end of their bumper, the end of their oblivious noses. They're dangerous because they can't think outward, and act on their single-minded purposes. Watch out for them, because they make the world dangerous for the rest of us.

I often wonder what the defintion of being a man is. Is it conferred by the opinion of others? Or is it something you simply are, communicated by your own pace, actions, and attitudes? Are there gates to pass through, tests to undertake to become a man? It's more than just turning 18, that's for sure. Read James Dickey's mangificent Deliverance for a riveting study.

The wife is just covered with poison ivy, looking like some kind of Caucasian Hiroshima survivor, but she still looked fantastic tonight in her tan shorts and white blouse, sexy and delightful.

I get one speeding ticket for the first time in 13 years, and fucking USAA raises the insurance rates. Time to look for a new company.