About the 11 September 2001 Memorial Museum and Being an Atheist in America

I am a Baptist raised guy from a small town in West Georgia. Son of an evangelical minister, that somehow ended up back in The Bible Belt. I have more Reverends, Pastors, and Preachers in my family; than I do relatives with College degrees (I might even go as far as saying High School Diplomas). Went to church every Sunday growing up, and voluntarily every Sunday and Wednesday night throughout the majority of my teen years.

I am an Atheist. In the words of the late Douglas Adams, I am a Radical Atheist. This merely means that I go one step beyond not believing in a God, in that I am convinced there is no God. I've no agenda, or even a care as to what anyone else chooses to believe in. Only how they choose to believe it, when that method of believing pushes outside their home and mind, and into my pocket and the Government that oversees the country that I live in.

I am not an Atheist because I prayed for something and it didn't happen. I am not an Atheist because I don't believe a God can exist while there is so much pain and hate in the world. I am not an Atheist because of some traumatic experience I had when I was younger. I am not an Atheist because I want to rebel against my family and upbringing. The most religious of my family, and the ones with the strongest knowledge of the Bible, are the ones that are the most understanding and easiest to talk with.

I am an Atheist because I read the Bible. I am an Atheist because I chose to research, fact check, and verify the claims I was told to believe as a child. I am an Atheist because I have to be. It isn't a choice. I cannot choose to believe something I know to be a lie. I cannot force myself to shutdown the logical/rational parts of my mind, or my curiosity and that need I have to learn as much as I can about everything.

But I've gone on too long about that. I'll post another day about my road to becoming an Atheist. This blog is about something that I came across today, that really upsets me.

The American Atheists have filed a suit for for equal representation of all faiths [or lack thereof] at the 9/11 Memorial Site, or none at all.

American Atheists' Communication Director, Blair Scott appeared on Fox News' American Live with Megyn Kelly on Thursday 28 July 2011. Or at least that is when they posted the interview. An interview in which neither Megyn Kelly or Tim Brown ever acknowledge or respond to the fact that the law suit is not to remove the cross, but to either have all faiths represented or none. I cannot think of anything that would represent Atheists in the museum, but not allowing any other faiths to have representation within the museum is making a very bold, and incorrect statement about the United States of America. Not only do Megyn and Tim get very angry, and twist everything that Blair Scott said, but they introduce him after making very biased comments about the issue. They also conveniently had him on the phone, without video. But I will assume that wasn't intentional, and that the photo they used was Blair's choice, and not one they chose because the smile throughout such a serious topic made him seem pretentious (which he is not).

Shortly after this interview, Blair's voicemail and email was flooded with messages of hate and death threats. Even Fox News' Facebook page was flooded with them, and 18 of those were saved before Fox News deleted them all.

Some were much worse than others, including two from a young lady saying, "stupid atheists, I hope God kills them all." and "I love Jesus, and the cross and if you don't, I hope someone rapes you!" [punctuation mistakes were her doing, not mine]

Now, I am fully aware that these views do not represent Theists as a whole, or even those of Polytheists. They do, however, represent the views of those that are pushing for choices in this country that have a direct influence on my life. They push for our government to give a portion of MY tax dollars to religious organizations (mostly Christian).

Now lets talk about what Churches do with money they receive:

In 2007 it was reported that 33.4% of the estimated total giving of people to different organizations, went to houses of worship and/or Denominational organizations (that comes out to $103.32 Billion given to religion, just in case you were wondering).

That is a lot of fucking money. What is happening to this money? Well, let me tell you!

On average, 85% of this money goes toward the internal operations of its congregation. Another 2% goes toward overseas missions, and that last 13% MAY go toward helping give back to the community. These are just 2007. Do you think it has changed any since then? You know, seeing as how the entire country is hurting for money.

Sources: USA Today, Generous Giving.org, Church Stewardship & Tithing Report, and Google

Now let's take into account the survey taken by The University of Minnesota in 2006. This survey was published to the U of M website on 28 March 2006 (Hey! That's my birthday!) and found that Atheists are the least trusted minority in America. The full study was published in the April 2006 issue of the American Sociological Review.

I hate when people that go out of their way to find ways to say they are being discriminated against, but I hate it even more when the discrimination is clear and the ones that are discriminating against others are twisting words and accusing the discriminated of wanting to be discriminated against. Would you ever accuse a rape victim of wanting to be raped so they'd have something to complain about? I sincerely hope that answer is 'no.'

With that, I hope anyone that might accidentally, or purposefully, happen across this will see that placing a religious symbol for one religion into the 9/11 museum, is unconstitutional if all religions are not also represented in some way. Atheism is not a religion, and does not need anything to represent it in the museum, but we do need it to be made clear that this is not a country with one religion or set of beliefs.

America is known as The Melting Pot, but that is not the image we display anymore. Now, instead of showing our acceptance and diversity, we allow certain people to represent us as something we are not. As a nation with one religion, that abhors  immigrants from poorer countries, and only cares about fame and fortune. I know this isn't who we are. I know it isn't who we want to be, but I fear it is who we are becoming.

The Mountain Three Wolf Moon Shirt on Amazon

The Mountain Three Wolf Moon Shirt

I'm sure anyone reading this has read some of the reviews for this shirt before. They're great!

Well, I happen to work with a man that owns this shirt (and many others like it) and wears it without irony. He has had it longer than these reviews have existed. One of the most interesting people I've ever met. So much so, that I thought I'd write a review for the shirt myself. Mostly so I could reference it in a couple of weeks when I write a review for The Mountain Unicorn Castle Purple Shirt. Link is here.

The title of the review is: I used to be a woman...
It is a one star review.

Here is that review:

I hate this shirt. I hate this company. They have ruined my life. I purchased this shirt for my son, because I was sick of watching Blues Clues and wanted him to skip age 2 and go right to age 34. After all, two years is more than enough time for him to grow up and become a man already. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking at the moon for too long, and before I knew it I was wearing the shirt myself.

At first it was great. I felt stronger, more powerful, people ACTUALLY respected me! It was the greatest feeling I'd ever had. Fast forward two weeks, and I had noticed my arms were bigger, my breast had turned into beautiful pectoral muscles that danced when I flexed them, my hair naturally slicked itself back into a glorious ponytail (not unlike that of Steven Seagal circa Above The Law) that had my husband and son worshiping the ground I walked on.  I had grown a delightfully thick beard, that was so amazing, Chuck Norris sent me a letter conceding to its glory. All great things, that I am very proud of. This shirt seemed like the greatest thing I could have ever found.  My life was perfect.

That is, they were perfect. Perfect up until the moment I discovered I had a penis. Actually, it was when my husband discovered the penis that things really went downhill.

At first he was envious of its majesty, but he learned to love it. Sex...Amazing! But it was a few days after the penis appeared before I left the house and discovered the true power of the Three Wolf Shirt.

In fact, it was when I made my first trip out in public with the penis that my life was ruined. I was at the Atlanta Motor Speedway with my husband and son, when we were rushed by a pack of beautiful women. My son and husband were trampled during the excitement, and were killed instantly. The spiked heels of these NASCAR models were just too much for my husband and son's fragile skulls.

I now spend all of my time locked in an undisclosed location, trying to find a way to break this curse and bring back my family. Searching for something that can reverse this curse disguised as a blessing.

Whatever you do, do not buy this item. It has a way of giving you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, at the cost of everything you love.

Mental Masturbation of the Soul (Facebook Edition!)

The title is meant to imply that I am not really so self-centered and narcissistic as to think that writing a blog entry that strongly resembles a really long About Me section of a Facebook profile shows that I am actually a very deep individual, with ideas and thoughts that will change your ways of thinking. Or that I am the kind of person you think you are, but deep down know you really aren't.

It's a lie. I am that shallow and narcissistic, and I have no original ideas or anything interesting to say. What I am is bored at work and feeling like I need some kind of entry on this page. It's a shame I'm not feeling as inspired to write right now, as I am when I'm laying in bed trying to sleep.

Let's see where this goes!

My name is Jason. Apparently, I look like a Michael. That's my middle name, though I like to tell people it is Montgomery just to watch their face as they lie and tell me it is a beautiful or "unique" name. I grew up mostly in a small town on the edge of Georgia and Alabama. Hated the town, hated the schools, and pretty much hated everything until I was out on my own and living in Atlanta.

At sixteen years old I was kicked out of school for fighting my principal. He had sent me home several times before because of my hair. He didn't like the different colors. I tried going to other schools, but none would accept me. At 18 I decided to get my GED, took the test, received the diploma (if you can call it that), and proceeded to work crap jobs until I was 19. This is when I enlisted in the Army.

I did my time as a soldier. Never went to the desert, but I did go to Korea and several countries in South America. Got out, moved around for a while, and then worked some more crap warehouse jobs.

One Spring Break I took a week off from those crappy jobs and went to Puerto Rico to visit this hot chick I met on a message board (Bolt.com before it became whatever bullshit board it is now, and no, it is not a dating site). Had a blast and the next month she flew up to visit me. Then the following month I up and moved down there so I could actually date her like the normal person I am not.

A few months later she moved back to Georgia with me, and I went back to crap jobs.

When I finally got sick of those crappy jobs, I went into sales. I'd never worked in sales before, and thought it would be fun. It was... for about a week. I stayed in door-to-door sales for a few months, and then went into Car Sales. I didn't think anything would be worse than Going door to door, selling crap. I was wrong. Car Sales was the single worst job I have ever worked. It eats at your soul (and with a soul as short as mine, I couldn't afford to make a career out of it). Spent about two years there before leaving for a decent job with not many hours.

Then I landed my current job at a Helpdesk. Basic IT troubleshooting, and within a year and a half, I'd been promoted twice. Not bad for a fucking GED.

Somewhere near the end of all that, I married that Hot Latin Chick, and last September we had our first child. We spent a few years planning him, and seeing as how rare that is, I like to point it out. His name is Xekan, and he's fucking awesome.

Just look at this punam (WARNING! Better put on a helmet before scrolling down!):

Yeah, that PERSON used to live in MY BALLS! Took my awesome, mixed it with my wife's awesome, and we created awesome that has caused heads to explode.

Now is the part where I start listing all of the things about me that are unique and junk. Are you ready?! You'd better be, Sally Mae Doofinsmurtz!

I am a midget because I have a short soul. My actual height is something people are always asking me. I think Brutus was awesome, because he stuck it to the man. I hate country music, reggaeton, and southern white gospel. Everything else is at least tolerable. When I taste something, the first thing that I think of is the shape that it tastes like. I recently realized that certain sounds cause physical reactions in me that can change my mood almost instantly. I am an Atheist. My father is/was a preacher. I think the smell of powdered laundry detergent is the greatest and most delicious scent in the universe. I get excited by science, and inspired by the most simple things. I want to be like Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson when I grow up, and hope to have published books that touch people in the ways that my favorite authors have touched me. Authors like David Sedaris, Douglas Adams, Neil Gaiman, Douglas Coupland, Tiffanie DeBartolo, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Kurt Vonnegut, and Dan Wells.

I have a strange sense of humor, and I could not care less if I am the only person laughing or not. I will laugh at anything, and anyone. I will not treat someone like they're special just because they're retarded, sick, or dying. I lack empathy and/or a conscience. I'm a good person because I do good things, and I do good things because I enjoy doing good things. I look at all of the likely consequences of each choice I make, and I do not have to worry about God or Guilt preventing me from making the correct choice. The first thing I ask myself before most any choice I make is "Which one will have the best story?"

Darkwing Duck has the most passionate theme song of any cartoon I can think of. When everyone in elementary school was listening to Michael Jackson, I was listening to Prince and Stone Temple Pilots. The first thing I ever said I wanted to be when I grew up, was a Mad Scientist. Once I noticed people laughing at it, I changed it to professional baseball player, and left that as my default response until I was out of school. I never wanted to play any sport professionally.

I am a good listener. Scratch that. I think I am a good listener because I was a good listener until I was about 17 and someone actually listened to me. Then I realized, not only how good it feels to let things out, but how much more interesting I am than everyone else. I sometimes talk just so I can hear myself speaking. I have a great voice, and there are times when it sounds so perfect I don't want to stop listening to it. Like a song on repeat, that you just can't get enough of.

I expect people to be who they are, and nothing else. I am never disappointed. I have a pro active way of thinking, and a laid back way of acting. I'm extremely logical and rational, though my mind sometimes shorts out and appears broken. I choose to see the bright side of everything, and that makes this universe so much more beautiful than any other way I've ever looked at it.

I think I'll stop now, since this is getting stupid long, and no one will ever read it all.

"Children don't know what real stress is!"

This statement, and many other similar ones have been coming up around me a lot lately. From message board conversations, water cooler talk at work, to family and friends at home. I'm going to go on a long, and possibly incoherent, rant about why this is fucking bullshit. I'm running on little sleep, and typing this during my lunch at work. If it seems like I am not holding a thought long enough, bouncing around too much, or not staying consistent... I really don't care.

Maybe I'm weird in not thinking back on life and seeing sunshine and rainbows in my childhood. Perhaps something is broken in my brain that keeps me from glorifying what it was like to be a child and teenager. Was my childhood so bad that I fall outside the statistical average the adult population? I don't think so.

Whatever the reason, I'm thankful for it. As the brother of several teenagers and now the father of a baby that will one day be one; I'm glad I'm not another adult telling them they don't know what stress is, or that they have it made.

It seriously pisses me off when people say that.

How can people so easily forget the hormonal changes they were going through that made life so Goddamn stressful? Or the fact that they had no experience in dealing with the stresses of every day life, and fitting in socially was more difficult and necessary than when you are an adult. You have to do it to survive as a child. As an adult, you have the option of changing your environment to find more like-minded people. As a kid you are stuck with the people in the town that your parents chose, and you have to deal with it until College or at least when you're old enough to strike out on your own.

Let us not forget that as a minor, you do not have the same freedoms that an adult has. You cannot just up and leave the classroom you are in because the people around you are horrible (anyone that doesn't know how cruel children and teenagers can be, has obviously never met a teenager or child, and was probably raised in a lab deep in a German bunker). You cannot go out for a drive whenever you are stressed and need to get away (even when you're 16 and 17, you have a curfew in most states). Making money to buy the things you want to buy is damn near impossible. Especially when you have parents that refuse to allow you to get a job, or that say your grades (I'll rant about why I think the importance people put on grades is bullshit later) aren't high enough to work (even though working a steady job will prepare you for adult life more than straight A's ever will. I know I am not the only one here with a GED that is doing MUCH better than my straight A peers from High School.).

I would also like to point out to the people that say these things to children and teens, that any stress and responsibilities you have now, are the direct result of the choices that YOU made. The majority of a teen and child's stresses are out of their control. Many of them are ALSO THE DIRECT RESULT OF CHOICES THAT YOU/THEIR PARENTS MADE! So don't go telling them they don't know what stress is, when they are having  to cope with your bullshit life choices. They don't need you telling them they have no right to complain about the things they have to deal with because of you.

Adults are the ones with little right to complain about anything. Oh, you have a car note and mortgage to pay? Did someone force you to buy a house or car? No? Well then, why are you complaining about something you chose to commit to? What's that? You have a job you hate? Did you do everything you could to get a job you love? Relationships and children got in the way, did they? So you chose to have those things before you had reached the point in your life where you could work a job you love and afford a relationship and kids. Sounds like a problem with your priorities. By the way, getting pregnant is not an unforeseen circumstance. Getting arrested for a crime that you actually committed is not an unforeseen circumstance. Refusing to pick up a book and educate yourself on subjects that will help you get ahead in life, and talking to people that can help you make connections in the field of your choice, is laziness on your part and you have no right to complain that this was not handed to you. Odds are pretty high that you are in the situation you are in because you decided to take a quick job that you thought paid well at the time, because it was easier and faster than working your ass off for a few years to get the job you dreamed of as a child. Do not hate on a child for still dreaming. Encourage them to do what you didn't, and actually achieve their dreams.

The older we get, the faster time flies by. Time is relative, and the more times you do something, the less it feels like it takes. An example would be making an hour drive somewhere. The first few times may seem like an hour or longer, but after a while, it starts seeming shorter and shorter. Our days, weeks, months, and years are affected the same way by this repetition. Keep this in mind the next time you feel like you've had a long week, and then roll your eyes at that teen that said they know what you mean, because they had a long week to. Their long week felt twice as long as yours did. That means they are going to feel that stress twice as long, mixed with the hormonal changes that makes it difficult to rationalize what is happening to them (not that different from a pregnant woman). Twice the stress for twice the amount of time. They should be rolling their eyes at you.

I'd like to go back to something I said previously about experience. More than anything, this is what makes being an adult much easier than being a child. Experience. This does not mean that you automatically know more than anyone younger than you, because that is total bullshit. What it does mean, is that you have gone through the same stresses more often than they have gone through their stresses. It would be damn near impossible to have not experienced them more. With this experience, comes the ability to navigate and prioritize better (though some people never learn to do this). You are also given more and more respect by others with each passing year. By the time you are an adult in your 30s, you've probably had to deal with most of your stresses many times over. You know if you fall behind on bills, which ones to pay first, which ones to call and work out a later plan with, so on and so forth. You've probably had a few relationships, so you know how to cope with a break up, or how to transition from couple to friends with ease. You aren't learning to do this for the first time. You've likely had multiple jobs and know how to interview, ask for a promotion/raise, or even identify jobs that you will enjoy over ones that you'd hate but sound like they'd be fun when you read about them. With each passing year, these things get easier and easier. This is why so many "mental illnesses" are ones that people "grow out of." After a while, you learn how to cope with it to the point that you don't know it is still there. A child is still learning to do these things, and you patronizing them does not make it any easier. It just makes them feel like they are pathetic for feeling that way.

What I'm getting at is when you tell a minor they don't know what real stress is, remember that you don't know what the fuck you are talking about. You're so caught up in your own bullshit (that you brought upon yourself) that you have either forgotten what it was like to be a kid, or you are too self absorbed to believe that anyone could possibly feel like you do or worse. You're being an asshole, and you need to stop.

The Definition of Pretentious...

I've been trying to find the time to type this up since it happened over the weekend. Seeing as how it has taken me all week to get to it, you aren't likely to find the same passion I was feeling right after it happened.

My brother was over last weekend, as is often the case on weekends. It was Saturday night, and it was dark out. We were getting ready to take my dog Kale for a walk around the neighborhood, and Brent decided to go outside to wait on us. As soon as he stepped outside, there was an old man walking his dog that quickly snapped at him to come over so he could ask him a question. His tone and body language put my brother on the defensive, but since he was an old man, he walked over to see what he wanted.

The old man didn't want to ask a question. It turns out he wanted to make a statement. You see, Kale stays in our garage when it is cold outside, and we walk him a few times a day and play with him inside the garage where it is warm and cozy. In the summertime he has our backyard to roam around and play in, and when the weather is bad he has his kennel in the garage. We rent, and dogs are not allowed inside. Plus he's a big, dumb, smelly, mutt. Pretty much the most perfect furry friend imaginable.

Well, as you may have already figured out, the old man didn't like this. Or, I should say, he didn't like that Kale stays in the garage. He didn't know any of the other things, or the fact that I work nights, so most of Kale's play time is after dark and before I go to work. Basically whenever this guy isn't walking by my house.

He proceeded to tell Brent how cruel it is to have him locked up in the garage when there are people at home, because every single time he walks his dog by our house he hears him barking. He kept using the word "cruel" like a weapon of self righteousness.

Brent argued that the man was making assumptions based on facts he didn't have, and asked how the man knew the inside of garage wasn't a palace. He asked him what he did with his dog when he wasn't at home. His response was that he let's his dog roam freely throughout their home, and that's what any real animal lover would and should do. Then he said he was simply showing concern as an animal lover. Brent told him to wait right there, while he went to get me so he could say all of this to my face.

I was still helping my wife put our son to sleep, and putting on some warmer clothes. I told Brent I'd be right down, and he went back outside to find the old man walking away. He stopped him, and made him come back to repeat everything to me.

I stepped outside and asked him what the problem was (Brent had not said anything more than he wanted to ask me about Kale). He stood there, with his big pure breed poodle, and let me know how cruel it is that I keep my dog in the garage when people are at home. He did not ask me anything, he just told me. I explained the situation and why he is in there, and he had the fucking gall to tell me that I would understand where he was coming from if I had ever watched any of the animal shows on television.

I interrupted him and asked if he had ever done anything to help animals, or if he'd just watched those shows. I then asked if he knew who Brandon Bond was, and explained to him exactly what he has done to help dogs and other animals everywhere; I told him how my wife and I both do what we can to help animals and how we have fostered animals until we were able to find them homes, just to keep them out of shelters. I pointed out the dogs that were inside other people's houses that were barking at his dog. You know, because some dogs bark when they hear/see/smell other animals, regardless of where they are.

I then told him he needed to leave, and that I was done talking to him. He said he was just trying to show concern, and I let him know that he wasn't. He was actually being pretentious and just wanted to feel self righteous by telling us how he lived his life.

I was told I needed to look up the word 'pretentious'.

I didn't, but Brent did. He's never been one to turn down a challenge.

Pretentious:  
a: making usually unjustified or excessive claims (as of value or standing).
b: expressive of affected, unwarranted, or exaggerated importance, worth, or stature. 
 
I would not have been so upset if this did not happen the night after I heard about the death of Cain, Brandon Bond's pitbull and best friend. My wife and I read his story, and spent the night crying and hugging Kale and our cat Chiquita. For someone I have never met to walk up to me and tell me that I am cruel to animals, while they are wasting money paying breeders for pure breeds rather than saving an innocent animal from dying in a shelter... It gets to me. I hope that man, that old fuck, chokes on his dinner and dies slowly as his poodle pisses on his carpet in front of him.

This is the happy puppy, that apparently shouldn't be happy since we're so cruel to him:

Christmas Time for an Atheist.

It is Christmas Day, and I am at work. By choice, I volunteered. So, I'm going to write about Christmas and me (my favorite thing to write about!).

Now, everyone knows that I'm an Atheist, and they are probably sick of me constantly talking about it. I don't care. I really don't. But I would like to clear a few things up about Christmas time.

My being an Atheist has nothing to do with why I do not like celebrating Christmas, nor does my not celebrating mean I hate Christmas. In fact, I love Christmas time. Everyone is a little be happier and children smile a little more. The songs are so cheery and catchy. The weather is perfect. It's awesome! I love it! The family time, the food, the music, the weather, the smells, etc. It is a great time of year. I just don't like feeling like I have to celebrate today, when I celebrate every single day of my life. Being forced to make today extra special, to me, is like saying the rest of the year doesn't mean anything at all. As if all of the time I have cherished with my loved ones means nothing compared to Christmas Day.

Bullshit.

So I don't believe in Santa, in buying or receiving gifts (not that I don't enjoy these things, I'd just rather it happen on random days when it isn't expected), or making today more important than any other day of the year. I definitely don't believe Jesus was ever even a real person, let alone a magic baby that was born on this day 2000 years ago.

^^^
See that last paragraph? Pretty small, eh? Well I don't believe any of those three things have much to do with Christmas time at all. Even the super religious aren't thinking about God or Santa when they are gathered around the television after a big meal, laughing and sharing stories, while posing awkwardly for family photos. They are just thinking about how happy they are to be with the ones they love, having a good time. Listening to cheesy Christmas songs and smiling with people you love, or even at the stranger you're passing down the street. THAT is what Christmas time is really about. All of that other bullshit is exactly that. BULLSHIT.

So, please, remember this if you are not an Atheist: Christmas is not just for the religious, or young at heart. It is for everyone that loves life and spending time with awesome people.

I do wish that I could be at home with my wife and son right now, but I wish that every single day of the year that I am not with them. Today is no different.

Merry Christmas everyone!

An Essay For The United States Army

When I was a soldier, I was reprimanded for showing up to formation in BDUs ready to go to a medical appointment. I received the call as I was getting dressed for PT from the doctor's office asking if I could come in that morning instead of later in the day, otherwise they'd have to reschedule for the following week. I let them know I would, and then called my Platoon Sgt. He didn't answer his phone, so I called again and again and again, and finally left a voicemail and ran to formation. 

He said that because I didn't call him (which later turned into didn't speak to him when he realized I had called and his phone was on silent), I had to be punished and tried to make me give an embarrassing class/speech to the rest of our Company. This is pretty common practice, but most soldiers don't know that they do not have to do it. I wasn't most soldiers.

He then assigned me to write a 5k word essay about the importance of informing your chain of command. This too, is something I didn't have to do, but knew I could have fun with.

I wrote his essay, clocking in at 3,193 words. Took me about 45 minutes, and he never counted, or even read it. But I passed out copies to everyone else in the company and hung a few copies in his office.

This is that essay:

Before you begin this essay, it should be known that all grammatical errors are intentional and meant to frustrate and confuse its intended recipient. The rest of the content was intended to anger said recipient. Unfortunately, he refused to read it, so I have decided to share it with everyone else. Please enjoy responsibly.
 

When I think of the importance of informing my chain of command about appointments I am reminded of a story that my father told me, while I was growing up. It’s the story of a guy that didn’t inform anyone of the things that he had planned on a day to day basis. This is that story.

Kahula Jack was a rambunctious little fellow that loved to live life to the fullest. However he had a bad habit of doing everything sporadically and without warning. He would go off in the middle of the day to the zoo where he would climb the cage full of monkeys and tease them with bananas and ice cream cones. He would then head over to the polar bears and steal their food and replace it with the little rubber vomit gag toys that he would buy at his favorite gag shop “Big Bills Little Shop Of Nonsense” every Tuesday after he finished working at the miniature golf course as a golf ball, which was much better than the job he had before that as a spoon in New England. The polar bears didn’t like the rubber food replacements that he gave them and would become angered with him and the zoo keepers. They went on strike for a while, but caved in when they discovered the secret of life lay within the little pieces of fake carrots inside the rubber vomit. They spent the rest of their days trying to unlock that secret. Sadly, they all died of animeinhalation, which is very common in bears of their stature. They caught it from the moths inside the robes of the mother-in-laws of the zoo keeper’s best friend’s second cousins, which makes it difficult to catch but common none-the-less. When Kahula Jack wasn’t fooling around with the monkeys and polar bears in the zoo or working as a golf ball at the miniature golf course he would be jumping out of windows and eating as much candy as he possibly could. He like to stay in shape so they candy really didn’t effect him all that much. Occasionally he would become distraught with life and go into a daze of confusion and mayhem that would ultimately lead to his falling in love with the woman that designed the bottle labels for Pepsi that we all love to rip off and get mad at for not coming completely off in one tear because there is always that one little piece that has to rip and stay on and leave the part that came off partially translucent and tainted with imperfection! But she did not make the labels or put them on the bottle; she only designed them and made quite a bit of money doing so. Since she didn’t put the labels on herself Kahula Jack was able to love her. However he did try awfully hard to find out who the person that put the labels on was so that he could seriously injure them from her but she wouldn’t talk. But I’m drifting away from the story. They anarchic dazes that he went into caused him to lose his socks from time to time that would, in turn, cause him to lose his temper with himself and his dryer. He had to find a way to keep in eye on his dryer and socks to see if the dryer was eating and/or stealing his socks or if, just maybe, his socks and dryer were conspiring together against him. He tried getting in the dryer with them, but the dryer would get angry and beat him up until he became unconscious. He finally cut a whole in the door so that he could see, but that also angered the dryer and it stopped drying his socks. Finally, one day, he came across Ms. Cherry Wild (she’s the label designer that I spoke of earlier in the story if you remember correctly. If you don’t remember then you should start back at the top and read the entire thing over, maybe even take notes if you think it will help you remember, because if you’re not paying any attention to this story then maybe I’m just wasting my time. Anyway, she’s pretty and she likes legos.). Ms Cherry Wild was the woman of his dreams and held the answer to his dryer troubles! She simply had him fix the whole he had put in the door and apologize to the dryer for scarring it like he did. Then she had him tie strings to all of his socks before putting them in the dryer. He would the tie on the opposite end of the string a board that he hung out of the dryer with the socks and other end of the string inside. Now if the dryer tried to eat his socks he would know! However his chronic athletes foot still didn’t go away (I forgot to mention his athletes foot, but he has it and boy does he have it bad.), which led him to believe that the dryer and his socks WERE in cahoots with one another! After discovering this he confided in Ms. Wild hoping that she would have another solution to his problems. She did not. However, she did have a new hat for him to wear that made him smile more than he had ever smiled in his whole entire life! The hat had a little fish on it that was holding a bowl that was under a table that was on a cloud in the middle of Egypt. Underneath this wonderful picture was written “Egyptian Cereal may taste like fish but it will put you on cloud 9 if you eat it in the right place!” He loved that hat and totally forgot about the evil dryer that had turned all of his socks against him. Cherry believed that the dryer was under the control of Charles Manson, but had no real proof. Kahula stuck by his theory about the VP of S.C. Johnson & Son making a deal with a leprechaun so that he could have supreme pizza’s whenever he wanted without having to pay a delivery fee or having to tip the pizza guy. He always hated having to tip those guys, which is a shame because lots of people make their living that way and you don’t see anyone telling him that they only want to pay half price for his products. Sadly enough, Kahula could never prove his theory. So, the case of the evil dryer and sock henchmen remained unsolved. Aside from having good taste in hats, Ms. Cherry Wild was an excellent florist. She could put together an ensemble of flowers that would make your mother want to buy dance a merry little jig in front of the mall dressed like a keebler elf. Her arrangements were amazing and it was partially due to her experience as a hostess and the Little Debbie factory. One day after her and Kahula Jack had been seeing each other for more than a year; she decided to pop the big question to him. He gladly said yes and asked her what had taken her so long to ask. She said she was embarrassed and he laughed and replied with, “No need to be embarrassed, I love the wiggles too!! I was going to buy the tickets to their show myself but they were all sold out. How’d you get them?” She was so excited to know that they both loved the Wiggles that she did the happy dance of enthusiasm in the backyard of her grandmas neighbor Herbert Von Walrusteen. It was an amazing dance of love that led Herbert to his patio full of onions that weren’t quite ready to be eaten but were cooked up anyway for his wife Maude Von Walrusteen-Boogalike. When Kahula Jack saw Ms. Cherry Wild dancing in the back yard of Mr. Herbert Von Walrusteen and Mrs. Maude Von Walrusteen-Boogalike he smiled and ate some candy (because he loves candy, as I told you earlier). That was when he realized that he was truly in love with this woman that most called Ms. Cherry Wild, but that he had begun to call Grandma Coffee Cup Green. No one else is allowed to call her that so for safety purposes I will continue to call her Ms. Cherry Wild. After Kahula Jack finished eating his candy and watching his lady friend Ms. Cherry Wild dance in the backyard of her grandma’s neighbors Mr. Herbert Von Walrusteen and Mrs. Maude Von Walrusteen-Boogalike he went to the store to buy some cup cakes for dinner that night. The store that he usually went to was closed so he had to go to the dreaded “Lost and Found Food Mart” that no one really liked, but were sometimes forced to go to. He desperately needed those cup cakes so he went on in and started searching for them. He came across many cup cake shaped food items, but none of them were quite what he was looking for. A few looked like they had been made with shoe laces and random wires, bolts, and other parts from a broken radio. He didn’t trust those cup cakes at all. He also didn’t trust the cup cakes that smelled of old laundry and dirty diapers. He suffered through the foul smell of the store until he came across some cup cakes that did not smell like they had been in someone’s gym locker and they did not look like they had come from and auto parts store. He picked these cup cakes up and tried one. They were superb! He immediately bought them and rushed home to Ms. Cherry Wild so that she could taste the awesome goodness that was in these delicious baked goods that he had found in the most unlikely of places! When Kahula Jack arrived home with the cupcakes, that tasted of heaven and smelled of perfection, he put them in the fridge so that they wouldn’t go bad before Ms Cherry Wild got home. Kahula Jack forgot about the cupcakes of heavenly delight while he was eating dinner with Ms. Cherry Wild that night. The next evening when he arrived home from work he found the cup cakes ( acting not so heavenly ) in bathrooms, bedrooms, and every other room in the house. They had completely destroyed the place! They were acting like a dog that was left home alone and started getting lonely and wanted attention so they tore everything up that they could find and/or get their hands on. However, the focus of this story is not the tantrums thrown by these spoiled little baked goods, but the irresponsibility of Kahula Jack ( and, of course, his love of candy and Ms Cherry Wild ). Now that you have an idea of the background of our character, Kahula Jack, I’ll start with the real story. This is the story of why Kahula Jack was fired from his job as a spoon.

Kahula Jack (the guy I’ve been telling you about for a while now. Maybe you should go back and take notes like I suggested earlier, you seem to be pretty forgetful. You got to pay attention, because this story is important and could save your life one day.) was a man of many faces and had many skills. One of his skills was the ability to be the best at what he did. What he did was not an easy job by any means. Oh no. He was a spoon at a prestigious five star restaurant in Upstate New England. Now being a spoon is no where near as easy as you might think. There is a lot of bending and conforming to do. Some people may find it to be degrading, but many a fine person make a good living doing this. Kahula Jack was the best spoon that that restaurant had ever seen. Did I mention the name of the restaurant, yet? I didn’t? Well then, I guess it’d help if I told you, huh? The name of this fancy five star restaurant was The Star Of Earendil Mist. It was such a lovely place, but I shouldn’t be talking so much about the restaurant. YOU want to here more about Kahula Jack. Aside from being the greatest spoon that The Star Of Earendil Mist had ever had the pleasure of employing, he was the also the most apathetic person anyone had ever come across (that is, before he met Ms. Cherry Wild ). He would come into work and be THE best at what he did, but then he would turn around and leave whenever he wanted to. He wasn’t trying to be rude by any means and lord knows he didn’t think he was too good to have to tell anyone where he was going. Bottom line is he just didn’t think before he acted. He would make assumptions in his head that everyone already knew and that he shouldn’t bother them all the time constantly reminding them of the other things that he had to do. But, this isn’t how the staff of The Star Of Earendil Mist saw things. They thought he was lazy, rude, and cocky, for not telling them when, where, and/or what he was doing. It made him look bad. So one day, after he had finished up his duties of being a spoon and had washed up to go home, one of his supervisors came to him. He wanted to know where he had been the day before. No one had seen him all day and no one had ever received a phone call from him. He told him that he was at the zoo ( and we all know what he does at the zoo! That crazy crazy man ) like he was every Wednesday. The supervisor became furious with Kahula Jack, accusing him of trying to “pull one over on him”. He began to yell and scream at Kahula Jack. But our hero ( because he is a hero my eyes and he should be in yours too ) wasn’t phased. He showed no emotion to what was being said. He heard it all but, being the apathetic guy that he was; he showed nothing to let his supervisor know he was paying attention. Once they yelling had ceased he asked if there was something wrong. THAT was not the thing to do. His supervisor became enraged with him. He told Kahula Jack to leave right then and there. So, Kahula Jack did as he was told and went to work on his dryer some more ( remember the evil dryer? It eventually took over most of Eastern Europe and is now on its way to take over Russia and Iceland ) before his favorite show in the world came on. It was a show on Fox about these two kids that were obsessed with internet drama and what people thought and said about them on certain message boards ( which will remain unnamed for now, you’ll have to watch the show to learn what and where it is ). Their obsession became so strong that they started investigating posts and screen names. They would trace ip addresses and whine about private messages and red Chiclets ( you’ll also have to watch the show to find out more about these reputation giving devices. The chicklet is what gives us life and defines who we are. They are controlled by the Chiclets Mafia and we…I mean they, have total power over everyone ) with little messages that would tell them how much they were hated. These messages to them were just to cause drama, and drama they sure caused. Without the drama of these Chiclets and these two characters ( who I will call Section Kate and Eumikeit for now, or at least until you watch the show and discover their real names ). The show is better than CSI and that, my friend, is why Kahula Jack watches it. Fox sure does have some great shows! Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was talking about Kahula Jack being sent home from work ( which was odd because he was told to go home as he was leaving to go home anyway ). He made it home, worked on his dryer ( this was the time he cut the huge hole in the door to see inside and angered the dryer like I had told you before. Where are your notes? You should have known this.) and then turned on the tele to watch his favorite show ( that I told you about already ) The ICFEP Krew!!! This truly is the greatest show on Earth. Once the show was over her went for a walk down by the volcano that was located about 3 miles from his house and had just recently become active again. He took a basket of fruit with him to sacrifice to the volcano God Susan. Susan was a vegetarian so he had to sacrifice fruit and vegetables. Susan the Volcano God got picked on by the other Gods a lot but she had grown used to it and really didn’t care anymore. Things like that always happen when you’re different from everyone else. But back to Kahula Jack, he went down to the volcano and made the fruit sacrifices to Susan and cried from the sounds of the little fruit voices screaming for mercy. Then he did some jumping jacks for about 20 min. He loved doing jumping jacks because, in his head, they were named after him. Once he had finished he went back home and discovered and message on his answering machine telling him that he had been fired from The Star Of Earendil Mist ( located in up state New England ) and that he would never work in that town again. He went one town over and started working as a golf ball the very next day.

If you’re wondering how this story ties into the subject that I mentioned in the very beginning paragraph of this essay, it’s quite simple. If you do not tell your chain of command about your appointments immediately after they are made, then like this story that lead from one random thought into another into another until you forget where you started, things may happen that will keep you busy and/or preoccupied so that you do not remember to tell them until it is too late. This may cause problems that can get you and/or your supervisors into trouble. It can cause unneeded stress to be added to the other members of your team and it may possibly get you or someone else fired/chaptered out or at least and Article 15. Moral of the story is, always tell those over you what is going on before you get side tracked by something else. Don’t be like Kahula Jack going from one job to another not caring about anything but a girl that designs Pepsi labels.

Jason M. Caldwell

SPC USA,

SSS Supervisor

*Disclaimer* Despite what the introduction and essay may imply, I was not THAT soldier. I didn't cause trouble, complain, or go against authority. I did what I was told, when I was told, without asking questions. I did not, however, allow anyone to walk over or take advantage of me in any way. This particular NCO was known for doing this to everyone, and tried doing this to me right up until the last minute of my last day as an official soldier. Today is that anniversary. Six years since I became a civilian again.