Rested and Relaxed after the Holiday? Not So Much.

For those of you wondering at the long silence of the Lost One, to mis-quote one of the cartoons of my youth, "everyone can relax...The Lost One has returned." For those who thought the shock of having seen the final Star Wars film was the cause...Good guess. But incorrect (the Lost One is a dork, but there are dorks and there are Dorks, if you take my meaning). While the Lost One will cop to being monumentally disappointed in the film (totally immune to any logic external to it's plot [this character must die! Why? Because it's in the script, silly.] , sub- Attack of the Clones dialogue [which quite frankly deserves it's own, Whoa...], and special effects that were "pretty", but thinner then the paper the script was...Not written, extruded?, on) , the sheer disappointment of the day was not the cause of the silence.

So what was? As usual, school, forced aside thoughts of all other activities. Finals are coming and reading must be made up, papers written, and professors consulted. All of it has me like the proverbial duck on the pond, moving a thousand miles an hour, while appearing to be going no where at all. Oh, well almost done, and the Lost One already earned two credits with a full two weeks left, now just fifteen more to go.

Of course with the holiday, sooooome time could have been set aside for blogging, right? Probably, but the Lost One spent the entire weekend in a NyQuil® induced haze after contracting a cold from his little Brother. While the Lost One has relatives who measure the success or failure of a given evening based on how much of the evening one can't remember, the Lost One is not of that camp, and the entire weekend, sucked. Hard. The funniest part came when the Lost One was required to call in sick on Friday, the most beautiful day of the year in the Lost One's little corner of the US, one could almost hear the wheels turning in his boss' head. Beautiful day + "sick" employee = sunshine disease. Add to that the fact that another employee had called in sick, and you get one very suspicious boss. Not that the Lost One cared. At all. Even a little tiny bit. Let me put it this way, if caring were an Olympic event..Not only would the Lost One not have gone to the games, he wouldn't have made it to the nationals. Nor would he have even been the kid who sees caring on the TV as a child and says, "that's what I'm going to do when I grow up." and then gets sidetracked into a life of crime. My bed was calling. Here endeth the argument.

Having mentioned the newly christened, Roaming One (he got into his first Choice U, and a new cell phone over the weekend), the Lost One must, at this timely juncture send the Roaming One his respects. This truly will be the year of Diaspora at the Lost Household as The Lost One moves to a Great Plains State (The Lost One mistakenly said mid-west in an earlier post, Bad Lost One! No Biscuit!), the Roaming One moves into an apartment, and the Wandering One moves to Boston to attend MIT. All of which leaves the Lost One's mother all alone. Let the Countdown begin:
30 days to the Diaspora.

Corrections, Retractions, and Apologies...

First the Correction:
The Lost One does not in fact do windows (or clean in general), so he is in fact, not the perfect 50's house wife. I guess I'll have to rely on my native cunning, devastating handsomeness, and Winsome sense of humor for getting dates. My Mother is never getting grandchildren.

Then the Retractions:
The Lost One would, officially, and for the record, like to rescind all the bad things he said about Profesora F_________ and her Clase. She's not "soulless" (read she does find the Lost One funny, just rarely, and not usually when he is trying to be), she is a generous grader (which makes her two step's short of sainthood in the Lost One's book), and as to the claim she's like a video professor...Well, okay that one stands on the merits, but she's gotten better (She's finally started with the outside sources). The Lost One must also review his level of respect for her and her teaching style as the relatively tame praise of, "good opening paragraph" left the Lost One purring like the Lost Kitty post-saucer of warm milk...Hmmmmm, could her whole lack of praise, and warmth be a Machiavellian manipulation of the Lost One, and the rest of the clase? What if she's merely using the old carrot and stick paradigm, plus the stick, minus the carrot? Perversely, thinking she's manipulating him, only makes the Lost One respect her more. On a related note The Lost One has decided he needs to leave the Political Science Dept. Soon. It's doing things to his head. Thank the sweet great maker he's going into the virtuous field of Legal practice...Wait a second, something's wrong with that last thought...Whatever.

And now the apology:
During a recent trip to the grocery store the Lost One ran across the new Star Wars promotional cereal box (Cee-Three-Pe-Oh's or some such dorkiness) the internal conversation went a little something like what follows:

Cereal Box: Buy me and your training is complete! Join the Dark side!

Lost In Academia: Never! I'll never join you!

C.B.: Your Mother never told you what happened to your Father's social life, did she?

L.I.A.: She told me enough, she told me you killed it!

C.B.: Lost, I am your Father's social Life!

L.I.A..: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

And so the Lost One would like to apologize, to himself. You deserve better. Oh, is that New Emper-oh's, now with marshmallow Death Stars? Well, it is limited edition...

And the Verdict is...

Darn tasty, actually. The roast was very tender, not at all sweet, and the whole family liked it. The gravy was good and worked well with mashed potatos. The recipe is definatley going into rotation. Though probably not heavy rotation (it was a tad expensive...).

There was one point last night, while the Lost One was doing laundry, after he'd made a complete meal including a roast, three sides (all from scratch, thank you very much), and a dessert, when the Lost One was struck by a truth subtle yet profound. The Lost One is the perfect 50's housewife.

Form an orderly line ladies.

Eat your Coke?

Because the Lost One is in quite the adventurous mood today, he is announcing he will be attempting the following recipe:

Coca-Cola® Roast
l Beef Roast
1 can of Coke®
2 cans of Cream of Mushroom Soup
l pkg of Dry Onion Soup Mix

Place roast in pan. Mix all other ingredients together and pour over roast. Cover tightly with foil and bake at 325 degrees for about 3-4 hours.

Our family loves the gravy, so I do double the mushroom soup and the Coke.

-- Submitted by Barb Green of Plymouth, Minnesota

Coca-Cola and Coke are registered trademarks of The Coca-Cola Company.

The Lost One must admit that the possibility of soaking a piece of meat in Coke is intriguing(he's been assured it is a great way to get tender beef)... So we'll see what it taste likes. Tune in tomorrow for the results. (Riveting blogo-spherical journalism, No?)

Yuck.

It's often said that war feeds on the soldier and civilian with equal delight, but (I'm giving the same disclaimer Strange Women did, "warning: contains disturbing picture of American soldier cradling little Iraqi girl who was just blown up in an "insurgent" attack") this story was just sick. In war innocents die, it's sad, but it's also inevitable. How, freaking, ever, targeting a convey when it's surrounded by Children is just evil!!!! There is no excuse for it, ever! This isn't the way wars are fought, and certainly not the way they are won. Damned murders.

Update:
As a result of either doing a few deep breathing exercises (good air in, bad air out...), or possibly as a result of the fistful of Valium he's taken (Ummmm...Valium) the Lost One can now, politely, discourse on this article. No cause, no matter how great, how noble, or how just is ever worth the deliberate targeting of the lives of children. One of the biggest stumbling blocks to a Palestine state (at least for the Lost One) has been the culture of the suicide bomber. War is, and should be, a thing for grown-ups. Period. The resistance in France during WWII didn't target Nazi children for death (though he will admit they had a less then stellar time after the war). As evil goes, it's hard to get more hardcore then Nazis. If such a act was termed out of order against the progeny of Hitler's bully boys, how much more so the innocents of Iraq, whose only crime was to be excited (probably at the possibility of gaining that ubiquitous ambassador of the American soldiers' good will, the candy bar) because Americans were present? Till happier tidings folks.

Chewbacca, Refugee Camps, and Other Acts of Madness.

So now that the Lost One has a little more time on his hands, he feels he needs to winge about the lack of journalistic integrity on the CBC. While the Lost One is not a Canadian, he does get the channel through his cable package. On Sunday morning, as the Lost One was preparing to attend church, he turned on his television set and flipped to the CBC. They had the most interesting show on called Sunday which was showing a documentary made by Iraqis living in Iraq. Out of some morbid sense of curiosity, the Lost One decided to leave it their while he dressed. Oh, but how he wishes he hadn't.

To start out their film, they went through the many things they thought were wrong with their country. Most of the complaints in this phase of the film, the Lost One must admit, were legit. No power, no gas, and no water. All of these were shown with a bit of fist shaking at the pro tem government and at the US. If that was where the documentary had ended, the Lost One would have been chagrined, but by no means angry at the film makers. That wasn't the end.

Next, came the complaints about gasoline, which is incredibly difficult to get as insurgents (read terrorists, Ba'athist sycophants, or crazy extremists) keep attacking the oil fields, tanker trucks, and gas stations all of which was the US' fault. Apparently. "How dare you," goes the rant, "not perfectly protect us from the crazies." A point that would have had a little punch (not nearly as much as the director seems to think it would), if the director had bothered to point out the US is not the only side fighting out there.

It got even worse when the filmmakers followed an Iraqi down Baghdad Airport road which leads to the main airport and is a source of American resupply, a constant spot of Insurgent attack. And of course rather then blame the Insurgents we get a constant stream of anti-American vitriol , my person favorite being, "Look at the trees, they used to be so beautiful before the American's cut them all down. " I'm so sorry, we never would have cut down the trees which provide cover for those who are trying to shoot up American and Iraqi civilian cars, if we had known that their was an arboretum in the way. How dare the American's choose that way to protect themselves and the surrounding populace.

All of this the Lost One could have shrugged off as the frustrated mutterings of people living in fear for their lives, but the director then cut to a group of Iraqis who had fled to Jordan. These people were shown preparing to return to Iraq, after the US had left. What was so maddening was that this group of people was actively campaigning for people to not vote in the (then) upcoming election. That's just plain treasonous, not to the government of the US (these people were Iraqi), but to their own countrymen. Actively trying to subvert the democratic process, for no better reason then ego, was hard to watch.

It was also hard to watch one of the men go to the college he attended and ask people if they were voting the next day. No, said the first one, with the Americans there what was the point? Kay-o. No, said the second, the Americans have failed to provide adequate security. Person after person declares they aren't voting, until the man asks one woman (that fact that a woman, from that part of the world, had the option is it's own kind of testimony), who's reply was a terse, "Of course." You could almost here the director's thought's as the camera freezes for a second, Oh, My...Who let her in here!? before quickly changing scenes to another no voter before the woman can explain why it's, "of Course". The last view we get of these people as the documentary switches to it's next attack is one of the group members watching CNN report the news of the election, claiming it's a historic day while they look on with grave concern... To put it most simply the election was the first time the Iraqi people had been able to choose their own destiny since(...Carry the one...Make allowances for differences in the Gregorian and Julian calendars...Take into account the Arab calendar is a Lunar calendar...Factor in leap years...) ever. The Iraqi people had gone from potentate, to British Rule, back to potentate, to rubber stamped one-candidate "elections" under the dictator.

After the election, a universally hailed success of unparalleled proportions (even lefty moonbat Noam Chomsky hailed it as a historic form of non-violent protest by the Iraqi people...Voting in an US directed election, with materials provided by US taxpayers, mostly for candidates friendly to the US...Boy, they sure showed us.) was done, the Lost One expected the cameras to cover a tearful apology, or at least some red faced backpeddling. What we got was tour of a refugee camp full of people who had to leave Fallujah because the fighting between insurgents and US troops was too hot for them to stay. The election was never mentioned again. What in the world...

Even days later the Lost One was still searching for a parallel, a non-sequitur large enough to equate to this one. It may have taken nearly a week, but he found one. And from the American Judicial system* at that. In this transcript** of the case Chef V. Recording Artists of America recently deceased attorney Johnnie Cochran gives his closing argument (a word of Warning, prepare to follow some pretty dense legal thinking):

Johnnie Cochran:
Ladies and Gentleman of this supposed journey, I have only one question to ask you, does that make sense? Chewbacca was a 6 foot tall wookiee from Kashyyyk, does that make sense?

Reporter:
Ouch, for the claimant, it looks like Johnnie Cochran is using his patented Chewbacca defense.

Second Reporter:
Yes, Sir, you hate to see that happen to a Rookie. Well, that's why Mr. Cochran is the best let's get back to the action.

J.C.:
Ewoks live on Endor and are only three feet tall, does that make sense? Chewbacca takes his vacations on Endor. Ladies and Gentlemen of this supposed jury, that does not make sense.

(Mr. Cochran pulls a dancing monkey complete with a little fez out of his briefcase)

Look at the silly monkey! Look at it!! Does that make sense?

Chef's lawyer (to Chef):
I think we're in trouble...

*Well, maybe not so much the American Judicial system, as an episode of South Park that had a court room scene...
**Well, maybe not so much a transcript as my very faded memory (you'd think some poor sod out there would have nothing better to do then post full transcripts of South Park at great personal expense just to have something to do. What else have nerd got going in their lives? Besides blogging, of course.) of the episode.

In the end, the camp stories had about as much to do with the elections, as Chewbacca and monkeys with intellectual property cases. And that's what burns, you can be obstructionist, you can be ungrateful, you can be angry. But at least tell the truth. We all deserve that. Especially from "news" sources. Now I get why the folk at Canadian Comment hate the CBC so very badly.

Happy Cinco De Mayo!

Happy Cinco De Mayo, y'all. Today we celebrate the day my ancestors kicked the frogs back to Europe were they belong. And told them to take their Arch Duke with them. It's a solemn day of reflection, and thanksgiving for the freedom Mexicans fought so hard to achieve. Yet, sadly it is often remembered only as a day to party. Yeah, that's why my forefathers died, so a bunch of rich white kids can get wasted on tequila, and Corona's...just kidding y'all, judging from Dad's family that's what the Mexicans do too.

Oh, the Wonder of Business in America.

While the Lost One is loath to ever post a link to the NY times, he can't find this story any where else, so he's just going to throw this link up here. A rock, paper, scissors match to solve who gets a $20 million account? Having hung out almost exclusively with Japanese majors at GW, the Lost One knows that speaking Japanese does something to a fellow, (that's a compliment, Ronin), however, this takes the cake. Still, you know who I feel sorry for? The poor sod who threw paper on his first try. I mean you know what his Monday was like, "Paper!?! Johnson, who throws paper the first time?! Turn in your keys to the executive wash room, I'm just to disgusted to look at you." So to my business majoring friends, don't neglect your R-P-S skills. MBAs from GW are fine, but a carefully timed scissors is better.

On a happier note it seems that the winning Christie's exec. won after careful consultation with an expert in the field. His 11 year old daughter whose advice, "Everyone knows you should go with scissors first." netted her father the account. Not everyone young one, certainly not poor Johnson at Sotheby's. A corner office for the little lady. Or at least let her stay up an extra half hour. Business week is going to run her profile.

Update:
The New York seems to be playing rough, so I suppose I could just crawl away like a bitty little bug. Or not. Try Bug Me Not. Fight the power. (Sorry can't type that with a straight face)