The Republic's First-Ever Random Internet Competition!

Ok friends, this is it: As I'm sure both of you have noticed, I am not currently in control of the world, or even half of it. I'm sure that this causes you at least as much dismay as it causes me, perhaps even so much that you don't remember my earlier mention of a plan to rectify this situation. The trouble is that notwithstanding the perfection of the plan, things just haven't been working so well in the fundraising department, and I had to have a few fundraising minions thrown into my shark tank just to keep everyone else in the department motivated (yes, people said that springing for the shark tank was a mistake, but with the labor disputes one encounters in this business, those things practically pay for themselves overnight). Anyhoo, it occured to me the other day while I was sitting in my lair petting my cat Bonaparte and chuckling to myself that I might be able to get a few more investors on board with some really schnazzy concept art of Plan 50WD's Primary Mind Control Unit (PMCU), or in layman's terms: "A Pair Diamond-Covered Chocolate Shoes." If a diamond-encrusted shoe made out of chocolate can control minds, I reasoned (and it almost certainly can), certainly a picture of a diamond-encrusted chocolate shoe will have at least some persuasive effect on the rich and unscrupulous, which is where you come in: If you know how to use Photoshop, MS Paint, A Pencil, Paper, and a Scanner, crayons-whatever, I want you to put those skills to work on drawing up some concept art for Plan 50WD. You're allowed to submit up to 2 concepts per person, and if I get at least 5 participants, I'll throw in a prize for the winner (something along the lines of a bag of coffee from Beaner's when the contest ends, and dictatorship of Canada when I rule the world). I'll need any and all submissions to be in .jpeg or perhaps some similar file format, and emailed to dcous at hotmail dot com no later than February 13, 2007, with "50WD" in the subject line. Hand-drawn submissions will be accepted, but must be scanned and emailed. If you try to give me a hard copy, I'll probably lose it. All submissions, and an announcement of the winner will be posted the following day, Feminine Mind Control Day, otherwise known as Singleness Awareness Day, and in some antiquated incarnations of the vernacular, Valentine's Day. Submissions deemed inappropriate will not be posted, and will be immediately disqualified. If I don't know you personally (in which case I have no clue why you're reading this thing), I'll need you to include your mailing address in the email. If you send me a virus, I will find your family and throw them into my shark tank, force you to watch them as they are devoured, and then I'll think of some really painful way to dispose of you, possibly involving unpasteurized dairy products. Now then, stop reading and start cracking on that artwork, Feminine Mind Control Day is right around the corner!

Best Bought Elsewhere

I'll probably get over it at some point, but at the moment I hate Best Buy. You know, the electronics warehouse that cleverly arranges its merchandise so that the only thing you can find without assistance is a television the size of Rhode Island. I was spotted as soon as I went in by the door guy (no, he doesn't open the door or call you a cab, he just stands by the door and makes sure you don't steal anything), who took a second to assess my age and dress before addressing me in the appropriate dialect:
"Hey dude, welcome to Best Buy."
"Thanks man." I replied, wondering if he'd have called my father "dude".
Without any help, and from accross the store, I found the aforementioned television, and wondered for a second how much money I would have to make before I started thinking that such a thing would be a reasonable purchase. Probably at the point where the money isn't even the question on my mind as much as "how am I going to fit that into the Cous-jet, and how would it go with the furniture (Cous-furniture? Cousiture? Cousiniture?) in the Cous-cave?" That line of thought didn't take me anywhere but to a series of bad Batman jokes (Bat-jokes?), so I instead set out in search of the RCA cable for which I had come. I knew it wasn't going to be easy: The place was a labrynth of expensive toys and blue-shirted, khaki-pantsed salesclerks trying to sell them, and it was getting late. They're always hungrier when it gets close to closing time. I headed in the direction I thought most logical, but in the process I had to walk past a video game console. A salesclerk sprang into action! A cold, digital voice chirped at him from the computer implant in his brain:
"Intruder! 22-year-old male in vicinity of Playstation 3, check him for money!"
"Anything I can help you find, bro?" he asked, in a deceptively cheerful voice, beneath the surface of which could be heard the cries of a lifetime of digital torment.
"No thanks, dude." I said, ducking into the nearest aisle and searching frantically for my query. I knew I didn't have much time. The second attack would be swifter and perhaps more powerful than the first. Blast! No RCA cables to be seen in this part of the store, and I was out of time. My eyes darted from side to side, looking for an unsuspecting salesclerk. If I could find one alone in a secluded part of the store, I thought, I could physically overpower them (stop laughing, it could happen) and take their salesclerk uniform, thus allowing me to move about the store with impunity. "Can I help you find something, dude?" Too late! I'd been spotted.
It should be noted that the last time I was in this same store, I actually surrendered to the salesclerks, and let them help me find something. It turns out that the only thing they know how to find is also the television the size of Rhode Island, which they still can't exactly locate, but can get you in the right department before turning you over to Omega 721, the television guy.
I dispatched the second salesclerk as I had the first, but a third followed on his heels, and then a fourth, each as determined as the one before it. I was becoming weary. Too weary, perhaps, to employ my earlier plan to infiltrate their numbers. I needed to find the cable and escape before it was too late. Success! I found it hidden behind the battery kiosk. Another salesclerk was approaching! I ducked behind the kiosk until he passed, then followed closely behind him as he headed for the front of the store, hoping against hope itself that he would not turn to see me there, so close to escaping. The checkout line! I slipped in before anyone else could spot me. I had only to deal with the checkout clerk, then the "dude" at the door, and then sweet, sweet freedom. Arming myself with my trusty debit card, I took a cursory glance at what the guy in front of me was buying. It was an Xbox 360. "The fool," I thought. They got him. His total flashed up on the little green screen: $426.00. I clutched my RCA cable and gritted my teeth as it came to be my turn, and the clerk offered to sign me up for Best Buy line of credit. "Not on your life" I muttered to myself, but was able to make it come out as a friendly "No thanks." I got my receipt and headed for the doors. As they opened in front of me I could feel the cold wind on my face. I nearly wept.
"We'll get you next ti... er, Have a good evening dude." Said the door guy, putting his hand up to his right ear to check his invisible headset.
"Thanks, you too."
A light snow fell as I stepped out to my car, walking past a man with two salesclerks loading a big-screen tv into his Toyota. I smiled.

A Few Poorly-Organized Thoughts At The Start Of A New Year

A few days before Christmas, as I was dropping a few things off at the post office, I held the door open for a woman wheeling in a hand truck full of packages. “Thanks,” she said. “You have a lot of friends” I noted, referring to her load. “Troops” She said, “They’re for the troops. One of them is my son.” I honestly don’t remember what I said to her after that, but I’m sure it was stupid, and in any case it concluded our conversation. We both took our places in line, before the post office clerk said to her “Ma’am, just step right up. You don’t have to wait in line with the second trip.” By that point, the few outgoing packages and bills for work I was there to send seemed to be the most trivial things in the world, which, to be fair, they probably were. That brief exchange has returned to my mind several times as Christmas slipped by and the New Year has already begun to pass by. Perhaps what struck me about it was merely the reminder that our country is at war, and has been in some way or other for more than five years. Perhaps it’s a testament to modern warfare (or perhaps merely to the nature of the conflicts themselves) that the human cost to the U.S. has been sufficiently low that the war hasn’t hit home for (I suspect) the majority of us. Regardless of what you think of the war (and most of us hold at least one strong opinion about it), I have to admit for myself that I don’t think of it often. It’s become that thing which I change the radio station to avoid hearing about, and casually pass over the newspaper headlines that refer to it. Perhaps it isn’t as bad as all that: there’s very little if anything which I can personally do one way or the other about the war, and all that the press dishes out is politicized sound bites and dehumanizing if not misleading statistics. Still, I can’t help but wonder if we’re not all too numb in some way or other about being engaged in something as terrible as war is. I’m not trying to get political here, or make some broad statement regarding what I think everyone else ought to do (a handy working definition of the word politics). I guess I’m just saying that it was helpful to me in some way to be reminded of the soldiers who were not able to come home for Christmas, and those (hopefully few) who never will, and to pray for them and their families. I suppose that’s all I can do. Celebrations of the Incarnation were many and joyful this year (and actually have yet to conclude), and I’m always amazed at the blessing my family and friends are to me, and at the joy I receive through them. Gifts were given and generally well-received, and I believe that I may have survived another Christmas without my lack of gift-giving prowess costing me any relationships, although it may be too early to tell. It seems that every Christmas I suddenly realize that I’ve let Advent pass without taking advantage of this time that the Church gives us to meditate on the coming of Christ and to make way for His coming in our hearts, and I’d be lying if I said this year was much of an exception. It seems that I never cease to disappoint myself, and yet Christ never ceases to be merciful, and for that I can only be thankful. That said, I found myself presented with at least some time just before Christmas where I was compelled by some combination of circumstances to do just what I’d been putting off doing, and felt particularly drawn to the canticles of Zechariah and of Our Lady, rejoicing in God’s faithfulness to His covenant and His people, and in the way in which God makes himself known. I’m as pleased with sweets and Christmas trees and egg nog and hectic reunions with family and out-of-town friends as anyone else, and perhaps more so, but I’m afraid that too often I content myself with the “warm fuzzies” of the Christmas season. Of course we all know that Christmas isn’t really about these things, but I have to admit that a large portion of my enjoyment of the season is wrapped up in them. In any case, there was no light bulb going off over my head, where I suddenly opened the windows to my house and ordered some boy on the street to go buy a huge bird for the Cratchet family, but I was reminded of what Mary and Zechariah were so joyous about, that humanity and the earth were forever changed and glorified by the Incarnation of God as a Man. Christmas isn’t just “not about” desserts and family and presents, its custom-made for the downtrodden, friendless, miserable wretches of the earth, which to some extent we all are. In any case I’m rambling, and I imagine that you’ve better things to do than this, so I’ll bid you a happy New Year, and leave it at that. Thanks for a great year, and hopefully more to come.