Dallin's Friday Night Write

Sad Dad

2012-02-10T21:10:00.000-08:00

I have been rolling this song around in my mind for about a year now…it has come in chunks and pieces, a verse here, a bridge there. Just tonight the final chorus came to mind, so I figured I would hit the presses with it. I took the liberty of narrating the music as the song progresses so that all of you could really try and get into the mind of the artist, I hope it is helpful rather than confusing. The parts in parenthesis and italicized are the narrations, the rest of the stuff is lyrics. Now to elaborate on the mood of the song.

It is sarcastic, so don’t take any of it too seriously. Then again, sarcasm is a coping mechanism…so maybe you should take it seriously. Regardless of how you take it, stay cool. Since you can’t hear the music, I will say that it is like a mix between Ben Folds, the big band era, and Mormonism.

I hope you enjoy it. It is entitled “Sad Dad.”

(The song starts with a jazzy swing beat on a ride cymbal. After a few measures of that, a “Chips Ahoy-ish” beat comes in on some toms, followed by C - E - Am chord progression played on the guitar with finger style at first, then evolving into a scratchy strum.)

You don’t need her anymore than she needs you.

You can do anything with one that they can do with two,

With the exception of a few things, I guess.

But those “few things” usually end in a mess.

Believe me son, its for the best now.

(It would be great if I could contract Micheal Buble to do a little bit of humming here)

So take some advice here from the wise:

Avoid her path, divert your eyes.

And don’t fall trap to her disguise.

She’ll fill your head with dreams and lies.

There are worse things than being alone,

Give it some time and the truth will be shown,

But for now, put down that damn cell phone.

(More Buble)

(Bridge)

Now I don’t want to be the one to rain on your parade.

I’m just trying to keep you, from making the same mistakes I made.

So let me share one lesson with you that I have learned:

You keep on playing with fire, you’re gonna keep on getting burned.

So I see you around with that ugly frown,

But there are other colors besides red that you can paint this town

Paint it any color hue or tone.

Paint it blue, green, black, purple, yellow, ma-rone (maroon)

But whatever you paint it just paint it alone.

(trumpets blaring the melody, with Buble coming in with some “yat dat dada dadas”)

Well it’s a song older than rhyme.

And we’ve been singing it for such a long time.

Back in that garden things were fine!

Then the man found the woman, the woman found the fruit, and that poor sucker lost his mind!

And you can blame it on that snake if that is what your choose

But if you wanna make a bet and I bet you do then I bet your gonna lose.

If only that girl had seen that old devil and told him to “get the hence.”

But the snake fooled the woman, the woman fooled the man, and she’s been foolin us ever since!

(More trumpets. More yat dat dada dadas. More swing beat. More guitar, all of them very loud…then all the different parts drop out, one by one, until all that is left is a dude singing “yat dat dada dada.” Again, preferably Michael Bublé)

The End.

See you at the Kids Choice Awards.

Jiggidy-Jealous of Hizzidy-Hyrum

2011-12-27T21:29:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don’t know, I have a younger brother named Hyrum. For those of you who do know…I guess I still have a younger brother named Hyrum. Anyways, Hyrum is, even as I type these words, packing his bags and saying his final goodbyes before he leaves on his two year mission trip. He flies out to Provo tomorrow morning at 6:30. He’ll be there in the MTC for a few weeks and then he will head to Brazil, ready and rearin’ for the soapbox. In honor of his leaving, I wanted to say a few words about him to you.

Hyrum is a marvelous person. I love him and I love being around him. Allow me to share why a person like you could benefit from having a brother like him. Few people, most of them in my immediate family, can make me laugh like Hyrum can. I have yet to meet anybody on this green earth that can do a better impression of Herbert the Pedophile from Family Guy. I can’t guarantee that this will be a useful resource in Brazil, but you never know. His sense of humor also has a unique innocence to it, more than that of anybody I know. I quite literally cannot think about Hyrum and not laugh and feel happy, and at this point in time, become slightly emotional. One of my favorite memories of Hyrum is a story from when he was 10 or 11 years old. He was out carrying a paper route in the early morning. As he was finishing up his route, he noticed a white Chevy Malibu pulling over to the side of the road. Hyrum naturally assumed that it was my dad, who would occasionally pick Hyrum up after carrying his route. Hyrum walked up to the car, opened the door and got inside. As he sat down, he looked over to the left to find a stranger at the wheel. Hyrum silently opened the door, got out and walked away. Haha. I love that story, I can just see him doing it. I still can’t believe that he didn’t say anything to the stranger.

Hyrum also has a sincere desire to do what is right. As many of you know, I am a vegetarian. Even with all my persuasive genius, I have as of yet not been able to convince even one soul to join the cause. Hyrum however has been on board since the beginning, as well as many other members of my family. I’m not saying that I convinced him to stop eating meat. It was a realization that he came to on his own, and was anxious to implement it in his life. He has been rock solid in his commitment to this principle, as well as many others.

He has a boldness in standing for his beliefs as well. Ask anybody in my family; you can’t tell a dirty joke, listen to an angry song, eat a slice of bacon or say a foul word without getting a look from Hyrum. Its refreshing to see his commitment.

He has been a great brother from the moment he come to earth, and he will be a great missionary from the moment he puts on the tag. I am absolutely confident that his companions and converts will love him forever. He is ready to serve a mission. He has prepared himself to the best of his ability and the Lord will make good use of his efforts and sacrifices. I honestly could not be more excited for and proud of my younger brother. What a wonderful thing the Savior has done for us by allowing us to participate in such a glorious work in the midst of what can so often be such a dreary world. Good luck Hyrum! I love you and will miss you, as will the rest of those who you are leaving behind. Be good and be happy!

I've got a wocket in my pocket!

2011-12-14T22:03:00.000-08:00

I wrote yall a poem, hope ya like it.

"Hat"

This is story about little Jack,

a rhyme if you will, about something he lacked.

Jack wasn’t like most other boys,

constantly wanting more candy, more toys.

When the ice cream truck came, all would run, all would shout,

but Jack would stay in, he wouldn’t go out.

To Jack, all this seemed like temporary bliss.

A moment to enjoy, forever to miss.

But Jack, he was looking for much more than that,

more than anything else, Jack wanted a hat.

What could be better, more fine or more fair,

than a hat for his head, than a cap for his hair.

A hat he would have, so he made up his mind,

he would walk to the store, and a hat he would find.

When he got to the store, what marvel, what awe!

For there was no end to the hats that he saw.

The hats lined the walls, from ceiling to floor,

then Jack turned around and saw nothing but more!

Some of them red, some black and some green,

a more glorious sight Jack had not seen.

He started to try them, each, one by one.

He would try nearly all before he was done.

Then to his dismay, a problem arose,

a problem that many encounter with clothes.

The hats were all great, each one a huge hit,

but the problem Jack had was none of them fit.

This is a disaster! Jack said with a frown.

I have a funny shaped head, an oddly shaped crown!

All that jack wanted, was a hat that fit right,

but some were too loose, most were too tight.

He tried out the tall ones, the short ones and then,

when none of those fit, he tried them again.

He tried on the sports hats, and then the berets,

he could feel the tears coming, eyes starting to haze.

Cowboy hats, stocking caps, visors and fezzes!

None of them fit! This is what Jack had dreaded!

Then he looked out a window, and saw with great fright,

what used to be day had now turned to night.

A store clerk approached, and with deep, somber prose,

said “Im sorry dear sir, but the store has to close.”

Jack thought about running, and hiding all night,

or maybe punching the clerk, Jack was good in a fight.

Instead, Jack said “Thank you, I’ll be on my way.

Thanks for your time, have a nice day”

All hope abandoned, a heart full of woes,

Jack felt a sadness, from his head to his toes.

But just at that moment, when nothing seemed right,

Jack saw the hat, like a column of light!

He ran and he grabbed it, and put it straight on.

It fit like a glove! He’d been searching so long!

His eyes, full of tears, but this time of joy,

you’d search far and wide to find a happier boy.

He ran to the checkout with a jump and dash,

emptied his pockets of cold coins and green cash.

But the words of the clerk then made Jack’s face turn pale,

“I’m sorry my boy, that hat isn’t for sale.

That hat is display only, that model is not in

I can’t let you have it, but please, come back again”

All tears were now gone, all emotions now spent.

Jack put down the hat, and silently went.

Jack walked into his house, his heart cold as snow,

his kind mother waiting, asked “how did it go?”

“I could tell the sad story, but don’t worry, I won’t.

Some people wear hats, and some people don’t”

"I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter."

2011-11-14T17:52:00.000-08:00

Dear NBA,

This letter is addressed to both the players and owners of what is surely one of the greatest athletic organizations to have ever performed before the masses. For the great majority of your lives you have been lauded as the pride and pristine specimens of our most glorious nation. Many of you have represented us in the international arena, carrying the very ensign of freedom on your jerseys as you have sported in the Olympic Games. Your managerial and trading skills have produced some of the finest and most unbeatable teams this, or any other generation, has ever seen. All these things and more are undeniably true, but I, dear NBA, wish to praise you for some of your perhaps less publically acclaimed achievements and character. I want to thank you, with all the gratitude I can muster, for your greed and pettiness.

Your dribbling, passing, and shooting skills, as jaw dropping as they have been, dim in comparison to your childish, overdeveloped, self-entitled egos. It takes a certain caliber of man to refuse to play a game as a career before millions of adoring fans for amounts of money that the overwhelming majority of your fellow Americans will only see in the dreamtime. You are a truly unique breed.

In closing, allow me to express gratitude, both my own and that of my fellow Americans, for the one last precious gift you have given us this year. I speak of the gift of time.

Because of your inability to be mature adults, this nation will save, quite literally and amazingly, billions of hours of time. While this extra time will most likely be used in other useless pursuits, it may happen that some will use this newly given resource to produce goods rather than consume them. Students might do homework, husbands might spend time with wives and family, children might read books, and millions everywhere might eat a healthy meal rather than a five dollar pizza while hypnotized by your bright colored jerseys. Can I just ask that you not stop with refusing to play this year, but continue with your insatiable greed into another, and another, and another season. For those of you who really wish to do humanity a service, talk to your friends in the NFL and MLB to see if they might be so small as to make similar decisions as yours. Who knows, maybe even the NCAA would be willing to follow suit.

May your receive trophies, medals and honors for your accomplishments in these recent months. Gentlemen, thank you.

Dallin Shaw, B.S. Mechanical Engineering (almost)

My diploma would be a lot more useful if I hadn't lost my mind trying to get it.

2011-11-06T19:10:00.000-08:00

I am losing my mind, as many of you are aware. I’m pretty sure I am “that one guy” on campus in a lot of social circles. Every community has a “that one guy.” As a young boy, living in northeastern Washington in a little town named Chewelah, there was “that one guy” who you would see walking around the streets pushing a shopping cart full of aluminum cans, muttering and mumbling as he went. Then, a little later in my life, while living in southeast Washington in a little town called Othello, there was “that one guy” nicknamed Crazy Eddy, who somehow was able to afford a constant supply of alcohol and wasn’t afraid to drink it excessively in broad daylight. We all wonder about these people. Where do they get the shopping carts (Wal*Mart, for sure)? How come their livers haven’t failed? And why don’t they have longer beards, where and when do they shave?

Well, I think I might be “that one guy” on BYU campus. “That one guy” with the really big hair, old man glasses, and flannel shirts. “That one guy” who is always laughing to himself as he walks around campus carrying 2 quarts of Western Family orange juice…and it’s not even pulp free. Yes, it’s true, I am “that one guy.” But can I tell you something? I sort of like it. I mean, before you lose your mind, it’s kind of a scary prospect to think that you might someday be one of the crazies…but then once you are one of them, it’s very liberating. Do you have any idea how much money I save by buying my orange juice in bulk by the 2 quart box rather than by the 2 pint bottle? And who doesn’t love to laugh? The only difference between me and you is that I don’t have to wait to hear a joke to laugh, all I have to do is…well, laugh.

Now, I am not going to pretend that I am completely crazy…yet. I snap in and out of it I think. Let me give you a couple of examples.

I woke up to my alarm clock a few mornings ago in a panic (this has actually been a reoccurring event in my life, sometimes it just happens). So I dash across the room to shut it off before anyone else can hear it. After the threat has been neutralized, I have a decision to make; I can either turn on my light, go take a shower and start my day, or I can crawl back into bed and skip Doctrine and Covenants, Statistics, and possibly Fluid Dynamics. Now, had my mind been in “non-crazy” mode, I would have quickly made a decision and then proceeded accordingly. But instead of this, for some reason…I just stood there. Only for a few seconds, but that is all it took. As I stood there, I began to sway back and forth. I found this as strange, but took no actions to counteract it. It is only now, when looking back at the experience with my sane mind that I realize I was falling back to sleep as I stood there. It isn’t long before my sense of equilibrium is completely gone. The swaying motions become more and more extreme. I stagger forward, then backwards, delaying the unavoidable. I then stagger to the side, but my legs just can’t keep up with gravity any longer. I’m going down. My momentum gathers and my knees buckle. I can’t remember if my eyes were open at this time or not, but regardless, I am completely unaware of my orientation in the room. Just at this moment of great alarm, one of my walls appears right in my crumbling body’s path. What followed was the loudest “THUD!!” I have ever heard. The entire apartment shook. Right as this happened, I regained full consciousness and sanity. As I stood there, braced against that stalwart wall, I heard the guy in the adjacent room wake up and I thought to myself “how am I going to explain what my roommate just heard…maybe he will just go back to sleep.” He did just that.

This was one of the strangest experiences of my entire life. And not only was it strange, but quite dangerous. What if I had fallen the other direction…towards my wooden bed frame. I could have smacked my head so freaking hard…then I would have really lost my mind…like literally, brains on the carpet. I feel like I might need to get some sort of life alert system…talk about a lame way to die… “College student found dead in his underwear with his brains seeping out into his dirty laundry. Police reports are saying possible homicide, but a lack of evidence is pointing to the man falling asleep while he stood in the middle of his room at 6 in the morning.” Scary stuff, Tender mercies, good memories.

The next story actually happened that same day…I think, but this blog is getting too long, so I will save that story for another day.

What your D.A.R.E. officer didn’t tell you.

2011-10-30T16:48:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I was riding in a car with my FHE group, headed up to a corn maze. The corn maze was infinitely lame, but the conversation in-route to the corn maze was, at least for a few moments, more interesting than I could have ever expected. Somehow the conversation turned into a brief commentary on Hitler. I don’t know how we got onto such a topic, and believe it or not, it wasn’t me that brought it up, but one of the people in the back seat made an interesting observation about Germany and its time under Mr. Adolf.

The person commented that she could understand, at least on some level, why Hitler, such an evil man, could come to authority over so many undoubtedly not-so-evil people. After all, she explained, he was in 100% of the media, being advertised in a very positive light around every turn. His goal was to secure for the German people (at least some of them) a powerful position in the world and a thriving economy to go with it. She also claimed that he was a very charismatic leader. Now whether these things are true or not, it is an interesting topic. How did he dupe so many people?

This is when I chimed in. In my mind, the only question to ask after such a conversation was “So what then are we being duped in to?”

I ask you the same question. What are the things in our society that people 50 or 100 years in the future will look back on and say “Wow, how is it that so many people were completely duped?” Or are we just too smart for that? Can we really afford to not ask this question? I don’t think we can.

All this having been said; my topic today is one that I have been meaning to write about for a long time. As you read, you may be tempted to judge me…I’m ok with that. What I do ask, however, is that you don’t judge my topic until you give it a chance. Line it up against your own experience and your own logic, and see how it fits.

I want to talk about marijuana. That’s right, the yerba buena. Pot, bowl, sweet wheat, bud...the real sticky-icky. Have I ever smoked it? No. Have I ever wanted to? Yes. Am I ever going to? No. Am I ok with you smoking it? Yes. Do I think we should all walk around with a pipe in our pocket? No. Do I hate cops? Yes. What does my hating cops have to do with marijuana? More than you know.

Anyway, as far as I can tell, there are three general misconceptions about marijuana. These are the effects of its use, the morality of its use, and the legality of its use, or a bit more directly, the legality of its prohibition. We will go into these three misconceptions in detail, but not in the order they were listed. I will tell you now, this blog is not even near over.

First, the legality of its use.

It is illegal.

Well that was a fast argument. There are most definitely laws written that have made the smoking of marijuana a crime. Now on to the real argument, the legality of its prohibition, or in other words, the constitutionality of those laws. I’m not sure if I am making myself any clearer, I am however pretty confident that I am making myself sound smarter. Nice.

As I have expressed in previous blogs, it is my opinion (along with John Locke and Thomas Jefferson) that a government’s responsibility is to make those it governs free. This sounds like an obvious enough concept that all American’s would readily agree with, right up until you contrast freedom with security, especially economic security. Regardless, my opinion remains, governments should make laws that allow us to be free. As soon as we allow them to enact laws with the end of making us safe, or prosperous, or smart, or anything else, they begin to overstep their bounds. When this occurs, nothing but economic depression and world wide war are on the horizon. This principle applies to everything, from seatbelt laws to government bailouts. Laws concerning marijuana certainly must be considered in the light of this principle, as all laws should be.

So let’s talk about how marijuana relates to the level of freedom in our society. When was the last time you heard of a murder done under the influence of marijuana? How long has it been since someone got killed by a “high driver”? Yeah, it’s probably been a while. Do you know why that is? It’s because smoking marijuana doesn’t make you want to be a criminal; it makes you want to be a 14 year old. Eating too many Red Vines while watching Star Wars is about as evil as a guy smoking pot gets. And so, since one’s smoking marijuana doesn’t infringe on the freedom or agency of others, it shouldn’t even be approached by anybody related to the government. If parents want to make rules for their children, that’s great and is exactly how God intended it to work (and this is the only way it can work), but the government needs to stay out. I do not care (and neither should you) if smoking marijuana kills every brain cell in a guy’s head, makes him want to work at McDonalds and stops him from every finding any sort of happiness in this life. His brain, his job and his happiness are his concern and are in his hands. The government’s sole purpose is to make sure that it stays that way forever. Why am I shouting in my mind!?

Now let’s talk about the idea of rebelling against such a law, which will segue us into our morality discussion nearly seamlessly. I start with a question: is it moral to go against a bad law?

Yes. To explain, allow me to ask another question. Was the Revolutionary War moral? The answer is of course it was. Now let’s examine the motives for the revolutionary war. Essentially, the American people were sick of being bullied. They were sick of the king of England infringing on their ability to live their lives and be happy. Now, it is important to realize that pre-revolutionary Americans were still able to live their lives with some degree of freedom (more than we enjoy today in all reality, but we will save that topic for another day). But even with this freedom that they enjoyed, a war was still justified! Now let’s bring things back to our day.

There are people who need marijuana for medical conditions (these people do exist, I have seen them). Among these people that could benefit from the use of marijuana are people with arthritis, cancer, depression, and anxiety. Let’s talk specifically about anxiety. You know that feeling you get when you have a huge test coming up, and you have literally not read one page of your history book? And then you go to study and cram, and you open up your history book and only then do you realize how small the print on the pages is and how few pictures there are throughout the chapter? It is at this point that an almost debilitating anxiety comes over you? This anxiety you feel is actually a chemical reaction in your brain. Many people come to this green planet with the involuntary ability to initiate other chemical reactions that counter this anxiety attack. It is at this point that the student buckles down, and studies what he can, and accepts the fact that he might be getting a C. Well some people don’t have this innate ability to create this counter-anxiety reaction. If you disagree with this then I’m sorry to inform you of this, but you are an obtuse bigot.

For people who suffer from these chemical imbalances, this anxiety is not merely almost debilitating, but is fully debilitating. And what is worse, is that it doesn’t just happen during midterms week. It could happen in the middle of the night, it could happen during a lunch break when they realize that they don’t have anymore red Gatorade to drink. Laugh if you must. I will give you some time to do this…

Ok, onward then. Remember all those paragraphs ago when we said that the revolutionary war was justified even though the laws being imposed on the people were only partially inhibiting their ability to pursue happiness and be free? Well today we have a law that is completely inhibiting the ability of many to be happy and free. Ironic that our government has not only failed to protect our freedom, but has stripped it from us, at least in this case. If Americans in 1776 were justified in rebellion, then so are you sick person! So are you!

Let’s delve now into another aspect of the morality of smoking marijuana. Many Mormons would accuse their fellow marijuana using members of breaking the Word of Wisdom. Oh boy. Pet. Peeve.

The Word of Wisdom is a law of health. Question: if Barack Obama tells us that eating peanut butter is now a federal offense, does peanut butter suddenly become an issue of the Word of Wisdom? Of course not. How is marijuana any different? I mean, sure, when you compare it to peanut butter, there are some key differences, but what about when you compare it to Cough Syrup? Both alter your mental condition (do not operate heavy machinery after using, read the bottle), and both alter your physical condition. So what is the difference? One is legal, and one is illegal, that is the only difference. The Word of Wisdom is a completely separate issue. Let’s talk about this issue now.

Forget about what society has taught you about right and wrong, and just imagine with me this scenario. You are a lone person living in the wilderness, and you have noticed a long term emotional slump in yourself. One day a man appears on the scene. In one hand he is holding a beaker of a green bubbling substance. He explains that if you will drink this bubbling substance, you will come out of your slump and be restored to your old self again, sort of. You rejoicingly and anxiously grab for the beaker of salvation, but then he pulls away, uttering a long and slow “buuuuut.”

He goes on to describe some of the side effects of the green fluid. “If you take this” he says, “you will have a few problems and I would like you to contact me if any of these arise. First, if you develop blurred vision, call me. If you experience dizziness or dry mouth, call me. If you lose sex drive, can’t pee, develop ulcers, forget who you are, start hallucinating, or start having ciezures, call me.” at this point you are becoming a bit hesitant. Then he bursts in again “Oh yeah! Another thing! This drug might actually make you want to kill yourself, so definitely call me if that happens. Oh, and as I final note, and I don’t tell this to everybody, but you seem cool, so I will let you in on a little secret; DO NOT take this drug if you are nursing or pregnant cause it will totally kill your baby. Like nothing. Might as well drown that sucker.”

Ok, so you are sort of nervous at this point, and then you remember that you saw him holding something in his other hand. You ask “well what is that you have there, in you other hand?” He replies, “Oh, this? Well this is a weed. It grows in the mountain meadows, just past sunshine creek.”

“Well what does it do?” You ask.

“This weed, if eaten, will also make you feel happy again.”

“Ok, but what are the side effects?” you ask, cringing in wait of the list.

“Oh…side effects…well…you might find yourself really wanting some Cheetos after you take this stuff. You will also laugh at stupid jokes and you may become really talkative. Other than that…maybe drymouth, which most people resolve with a drink of water…from sunshine creek”

That’s the end of the scenario. Which one of the drugs do you think is more opposed to the Word of Wisdom? Don’t you think that the weed at least deserves a try?

Let’s please not allow Babylon’s congress to interpret Zion’s laws. If you are sick, and there is a drug you can take to help you, we believe in taking it. Now if you are not sick, and there is a drug you can take to have a good time, we DO NOT believe in taking it. I believe this with all my heart and practice it strictly in my own life.

I hope this is all making sense. Such an important topic.

The final misconception, the social effects of taking marijuana. First, let’s talk about the micro-social effects, and then well wind down with the macro effects.

I would argue that most, if not all, of the negative connotations and associations made with respect to marijuana users are not natural to the drug itself, but rather have been synthesized by the society in which the drug is taken. I will give you an example. The notion that marijuana is a “gateway drug.” Now, I agree that a person who smokes marijuana does run a higher risk of getting into other drugs than a person who does not smoke marijuana. I will also cede the argument that the great majority of people who participate in some of the harsher drugs in the world may have started down that path with marijuana. But does this mean that marijuana is a gateway drug? No! Correlation is not causation! Isn’t a much more logical argument that the reason marijuana users often become crack smokers is because they have to go to crack dealers to get marijuana? If the only place you could buy peanut butter in this world was from a drug dealer, than peanut butter would probably become a gateway drug as well, not because of any characteristic of peanut butter, but only because of the characteristics of the process that has to be undergone to obtain peanut butter.

I will give another reason marijuana might look to be a gateway drug. Once a teenager smokes marijuana, what is he labeled as in both society’s and his own eyes? A drug addict. And as soon as that is your self-image, why not try heroine? You’re already a drug user, you’ve already wasted your life away, your egg (brain) is already in the frying pan, and, thanks to the laws of your loving society, you already know a guy you can get some heroine from, your marijuana dealer. It’s like a perfect storm. I guess what I’m saying is that yes, smoking marijuana will increase the likelihood of experimentation and eventual addiction to other drugs, but it doesn’t have to be that way with marijuana any more than it has to be that way with peanut butter.

Some other perceived evils with marijuana are that is makes us stupid, forgetful or lazy, even after we are not on it anymore. I don’t think this is true because I have friends that smoke marijuana, and when used with even the smallest amount of restraint, I struggle to even tell when they are high, let alone if they used the stuff a week ago. Again, I think we are projecting these things on to our marijuana smoking friends. If I forget my keys in my car, I’m human. If my marijuana using friend forgets his keys in his car, he’s a drug addict.

Ok, let’s finish up here. I want to talk briefly about the macro-social effects of marijuana use. I feel like there is this general fear in America that if the government were to stop monitoring marijuana, then the nation would begin to rip itself to shreds and we would surely be wiped out by the week’s end. This is not true in any sense. I like to think that the vast majority of Americans don’t smoke marijuana because they don’t feel a need or desire to, not because they are afraid of the police…even though we are afraid of the police…whom I hate.

Parents are still going to teach their children to be good people. Men and women are still going to want to do the best they can and therefore will avoid anything that might inhibit them from being able to do so. The only thing that would change with marijuana’s legalization is that people who need it, or just want it, will be able to get it without fear of being prosecuted (or persecuted). I would wager that drug crimes would actually go down in America, because we would be eliminating a huge market in that drug society.

Let’s be honest, no nation has ever crumbled because its people were high, and no nation ever will. What has caused nations to fall has been tyrannical laws and self-concerned governments. Sometimes these unjust laws have even been legislations concerning drugs (see The Opium Wars).

This is all I have to say concerning the issue. I love my freedom, I love my healthy body, I love you, and I love the truth. I hope I am coming closer to it.

Facebook Status Update

2011-10-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

I went to Karaoke night at Applebees tonight. I signed up to sing a song. They put me on right after a group of very talented singing and dancing black men...I came on in a flannel shirt, blue jeans and work boots to sing Folsom Prison Blues, by Johnny Cash. It was sort of like when somebody walks into your room at night and turns the light on, uncomfortable and annoying.

Also, I learned that the only thing more awkward than dancing on stage when nobody wants you to is not dancing on stage when everybody wants you to. Not very intuitive, but true nonetheless. Somehow telling all of you about this makes me feel better...also not very intuitive.

Consider yourselves updated.

2 things, 1 man, no life.

2011-10-04T21:09:00.000-07:00

First. Remember a year or so ago when I was on that Word of Wisdom no-eating-meat trip? Yeah, I'm back on that. I haven't had meat in almost two months.

It hasn't been as hard as I thought it was going to be, so that's good. But, on the other side of that coin, I have not yet acquired superhuman strength and I get the feeling that the animal kingdom still doesn't trust me, but yeah, I think I'm gonna stick with it besides. Other benefits are that it has significantly lowered my food spending and I have discovered the gloriously refreshing wonder of what is vanilla flavored almond-milk. Good stuff.

Harder than cutting out the meats has been cutting out the treats (rhyme intentional). That's right, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups with a Dr. Pepper chaser are a a thing of the past. I figure eliminating meat would be pretty pointless if I didn't eliminate all the other stuff that I shouldn't be eating. I've replaced my sweets mostly with fruit, and more specifically, bananas. Bananas and snickers bars are actually quite similar. They are of a comparable size,both are sweet, both have to be unpeeled/unwrapped and both take about 10 seconds to eat. If I close my eyes and eat it with a glob of peanut butter in my mouth, I can almost trick my pancreas into an insulin surge.

That sums up my diet. Next item...

So, the Peace Corps gave me a nomination. This essentially means that I got past the first cut and my chances of getting a real invitation to join are better than ever. The tentative service assignment, pending and invitation, would be teaching physics, speaking Spanish, in Sub-Saharan Africa leaving next September...

Yeah, crazy, I know.

So, am I gonna do it?

There are only two things in this universe that could stop me. 1st, marriage. 2nd, a flying pig. I'm not sure which is more likely, but either would do.

I'm optimistic about my future. The Peace Corp might seem like a strange option for a graduate in Mechanical Engineering, but I'm pretty sure corporate America would strip me of any sanity that remains with me after what has been "college life" and I just can't let that happen.

also...I didn't really give this blog a very thorough spell check...meh.

Lucy, my darling!

2011-07-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

I only have two days of my internship left. The joy I feel at this thought is seldom felt or understood by man. Its been a long year. However, this potentially happy time in my life is being darkened by that old friend of ours...money.

My income is going to take a hit. I have been applying to other internships and jobs, but nobody has really called me back. I'm not even sure if I want them to. I have discovered something about myself in recent years...that is, I hate being an employee. This past year has been tough, but when I think of reporting to a boss for another 40, I just want to give up. Anyway, I digress.

As the great green belt tightens around my life, my mind begins to search for ways to get money. Of course I am going to have to get a job, but I just don't see that cutting it. My eyes turn to Lucy, my guitar. I think I'm going to sell her.

Money isn't the only reason I am considering selling Lucy. I don't play her that much anymore. I guess I don't have time. Also, I question the morality of the songs I love to play on her...in fact, I more than question them at this point. I plain and simple accept them as wrong...not satanic...but wrong nonetheless. I guess one last reason I am considering getting rid of her is because she represents a level of luxury that I don't want to have in my life. I have an acoustic guitar, that should be enough to provide all the music I need. Also, In my mind Gibson Guitar Co. is no more my friend than Marlboro Cigarettes. They just want a sale, no matter the cost. A quick buck.

Anyway, I think that's a pretty good summary of my motives. It all makes sense in my head, but every time I think about selling the guitar...groan. I think that I have linked a lot of my identity with Lucy, that's why I don't want to get rid of her. By selling her, I am putting rock music on a different level of importance in my life, which isn't necessarily a bad thing...such a nice guitar though.

Its storming outside right now.

must-ash

2011-06-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

I've been growing my mustache for over 5 weeks now. Its strange, I've noticed that I get nothing but compliments from guys and nothing but insults from girls...whats up with that? I guess its not completely true though...well the guy part anyway. I have a Russian coworker that came up to me the other day and was like "I like your mustache." Then there was about a 2 second silence after which he burst into laughter...I would have told him to shut up, but my boss was right there...and also as I mentioned before, this guy was a Russian...have you ever heard that language? Its terrifying. Anyway, the last thing I want is to wake up dead without any hands, feet or teeth over something as small as being openly mocked in front of my coworkers.

Besides the occasional run in with foreigners and soccer moms, the mustache is really nice, and its coming in just in time. Tomorrow I am gonna head to Las Vegas and serenade the passersby with some sweet tones and melodies, flowing freely from the love of my life, Lucy Gibson (she's a guitar...whatever). Hopefully I should be able to make some good monies. The drunks are always the most generous, but "Tears in Heaven" will get you big bucks with senior citizens. I've also got a little bit of James Taylor and John Lennon to grease those wheels on that money train. Anyway, I think the mustache is going to go a long way to really make me look legitimate out there.

After Vegas, I fly to California to hit the beach and learn how to surf. While white collar America might not appreciate the stash, hopefully the surf bums will.

So yeah....mustache...street performing...surfing....maybe I will just stay in California with Lucy.

A penny for my thoughts? No? Ok.

2011-05-10T19:49:00.001-07:00

Lots of crazy going on in the world right now. Lets name a few of these things, in order of most important to least important.

#1. Natural disasters every where. Japan, the Mississippi, tornadoes, wars and rumors of wars (technically not a natural disaster, unless you consider man a part of nature...interesting)...What is going on out there?

#2. Strike up the band and hang the pinata, my internship ends in June. That is next month. Its been a long, hard year, but its almost over. I'm on the homestretch! Rounding 3rd! In the red zone (or the blue zone as we call it here in Provo. GO COUGS! (if you don't know me well enough to know that I am joking, than you probably don't know me at all...Are you a girl?...Do you want to go on a date?...Just kidding...Send me a picture...Just kidding...Whatever.))

#3. Brothers and sisters, my application to the Peace Corps is in. One small step for mankind, one giant leap for man. Yes, I know that I misquoted...or maybe he did...think about it. Anyway, there is never just one reason for this sort of thing, but my decision to submit an application can be traced back to three main causes. First, I don't think they are even going to let me in, which allows me to keep living a selfish life, while enabling me to brag. Second, the Peace Corps is actually a very well connected organization as far as future employers and graduate schools go. After its all over, I should be sittin' pretty. The last reason is the biggest and is hard to sum up, but I will try:

I hate Walmart, Chevy, People magazine, Kay Jewelers, Glenn Beck, competition, Costco, greasy fast food that is incredibly delicious, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the mall, the grade point scale, slum lords, the po-lice, gas prices, mormon comedy, cell phones and an entire myriad of other things that make society tick. I got to get out of it. For the past 26 years all of this crap has been painting a beautiful and vivid mural of happiness and fulfillment before my eyes. But every time I reach out to take some of it for myself, I just end up scrapping my knuckles on the wall. Its too tempting to live with it, so I am gonna try and run from it instead...that is if I get accepted. Also, I want to help people.

Nothing is cut out in stone of course, even if they do let me in. A mans gotta follow his heart.

#4. I forgot one of my dress shoes in Washington when I visited this weekend (surprise to everybody I didn't text!). Because of this, today when I went to work I wore a button up shirt, polyester dress slacks and some grey casual shoes with white laces and even whiter rubber soles....the Russian I work with couldn't stop laughing.

#5. A butterfly flapped its wings in central park.

#6. Osama Bin Laden is dead......pffft.

Have a good week everybody!

A poet and I didn't know it

2011-02-22T19:33:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to write a decent song for the past 10 years, but every time I put my pen to the pad I think a fairy dies. Everything I write just seems so predictable and trite that by the time I'm done with my attempt at an emotional purge via the pen, I find myself needing to write another song just to express my disappointment in my first song. This cycle would continue on indefinitly if it weren't for a mild case of ADD, which I've never been officially diagnosed with, but I'm pretty sure is real nonetheless.

Anyway, for whatever reason, the past couple of months I've been thinking in lyrics and limericks. A day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought to myself after thinking a thought to myself "I wonder how I could work that last thought into a power ballad?" This then would lead to 20 minutes or so of artistic puke, and then I would give up. This is the Dallin Shaw story, or at least it was until last night.

I finally wrote something that satisfied, more of a poem than a song. I think that my problem all these years is that I have been trying to write about stuff that I am not really passionate or informed about, namely love and women. So this time, I turned to something that I've got a little bit more fire in my belly for. The rich.

Here goes nothing....

Make a toast, to all of those / who left their worrries at the door.

Golden roads, and well planned goals / have brought you here, out of the cold.

And to those, poor old fools / who don't know the passage in,

I'll give a blind eye, and my brothers dirty coat / for happiness cannot exist in sin.

And they'll be thankful, oh they'll be thankful,

for the kindness that's been bestowed.

And they'll be thankful, oh they'll be thankful,

they'll be thankful, just like they're told.

Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations / you made it to the top of the heap.

And we thank those powers, in their glorious heavens / for seeing us as worthy to receive.

So grab your glasses, and raise 'em up high / make sure everyone can see,

the tears on your faces, leave no traces / of doubt, of your prideful sanctity.

And they'll be thankful, oh they'll be thankful

for whatever help we choose to send.

And they'll be thankful, oh they'll be thankful,

thankful for our allowing them to beg.

I find myself, sitting at the table / of the kings among the kings of the before.

Here we all are, with all power, but unable / to be satisfied without reaching in for more.

A self feeding cycle, a down hill revival / when, oh tell me when will it end.

When there's nothing left to take, not a brother to forsake / we'll press reset, and start it up again.

And they'll be thankful, oh they'll be thankful,

they'll all be thankful in the end.

And we'll all be thankful, we'll all be thankful,

thankful, and thankful, amen.

Thats the poem. If it ever becomes a song, it will most likely be a blues/slave/gospel song.

To those who agree, I appreciate you.

To those who disagree, it wouldn't have any meaning without you.

and to those who don't care, good luck.

MONEY! Its a gas!

2010-07-10T22:24:00.000-07:00

This money stuff is a very interesting topic to me. It is such a huge part of our society. All day long, we march around, like little ants, searching for the mighty dollar. Going from one place to another in quite a hurry, only to find it, spend it and then go to sleep until we have enough energy to get back up and start zipping around again in search of it.

We feel it quite noble and good. After all, look at all the marvelous things it can buy us. And surely it is God that has given it to us. The scriptures do indeed say that inasmuch as we keep the commandments, The Lord will prosper us in the land. Not to mention the fact that the things we buy with the money we earn make us happy. And The Lord, being the loving lord that he is, would of course want nothing more than for us to be happy. And so we have been lulled.

We will now discuss reality.

Question: Did George Washington deserve to be happy? The answer to this question is yes. If you disagree with me on this point, I invite you to leave this website and never return, you are void of intelligence. Just kidding.

Next question: Was George Washington happy? The answer to this question may be more debatable, but I believe that the answer is once again, yes. In the books I have read, he is painted as a very positive and jovial personality who loved to laugh. I believe he was happy.

Last questions: Did he have Aquafresh Toothpaste? Did he have HD television? Did he have air conditioning? Did he ever go to Cancun and sip pina coladas on the beach? Did he have indoor plumbing? Did he have Tylenol? Did he have electric guitars? Did he have the internet? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, and no.

The point I am trying to make is that all of these things that we surround ourselves with are nothing but filthy illusions. We think they can make us happy and even that they are necessary for happiness and even that they are synonymous with happiness. They are not. These things that money can buy us do nothing but distract our minds for a while, and divert our eyes from the one and only source of true and lasting happiness (and not to sound too scriptural here, but I speak of happiness as pertaining to things both spiritual and temporal). If George Washington didn’t need them to be happy, neither do we.

Now that the scales of darkness have fallen from our eyes, let’s talk about some of the other problems I have with the devilish device that is money.

We are told that the love of money is the root of all evil. What this really means is that the love of what money can get us is the root of all evil. This is true. Whether what money can get us is power, things, or popularity, to love these more than God is sin. Let me give you my interpretation of what it means to “love these more than God.”

We know that if we love God, we will do what he says. Carry out his will. We have been told to have an eye single to his glory. The moment our focus shifts from the building of God’s kingdom to the building of our own, we have begun to “love these more than God.” In other words, and tell me if this sounds like anything we see in the world today…

Go to school to get a job. Get a job to build a resume. Build a resume to get a better job. Get a better job to get a bigger stock holding. Get a bigger stock holding to get a bigger garage. Get a bigger garage to get bigger cars and faster boats, get bigger cars and faster boats to get more friends, get more friends to party harder. Party harder to party harder and harder and harder. Whose kingdom is that all about? Sure, we go to church, pay our tithes, even throw some cash at a good cause every now and then, but the scriptures say that the eye must be single; there is no room for self aggrandizement in the true gospel.

It is this exact attitude of building up one’s own kingdom rather than God’s that got Lucifer kicked out of the eternities. Let’s not fall into the same trap as the third of God’s children who fell before.

Behind every mugging in central park, every tyrant throughout history, every starving child turned away, every sick person denied health, every accused denied justice, there has been money as a motivating force. The rich driven by their desire for more, the criminal driven by their fear of not having enough.

In The Book of Mormon, every single time the Nephites ever fell, there was money. The Savior himself prophesied to the Nephites while ministering among them “It sorroweth me because of the fourth generation from this generation…for they will sell me for silver and for gold…”

Contrast the cruel and unconcerned business tactics of the world with this statement from Jacob, “Come, my brethren, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and milk without money and without price. Wherefore, do not spend your money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy.”

I think of all these things, and I cannot help but feel that I had better run from riches. Take what I need, yes, but anymore than this is wrong. I cannot say that I am free of the trance that money has put America under, but I feel that I have recognized the enemy, and am doing my best to rid myself of his influence. The scriptures say that the only way to true happiness is by building up the kingdom of God, I believe this is true.

I understand that while Zion is not yet here we have to operate in the system that exists in the world, and that system survives on money. But just because we have to live in the system, doesn’t mean we have to promote it.

Money is not the source of happiness. Money is not the source of freedom. Money is not the source of security. Money is not the source of sustenance. God is the source of all these things, and to depend on anything but him for them is idolatry in its purest form.

There is a fine line between enjoying the blessings that the Lord has given us, and worshipping ourselves. To avoid error we must, as counseled by King Benjamin at the end of his great sermon on finances, “watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds…”

Have a good week everybody.

P.S.

I was gonna end it all there, but I read through and realized that there was one more thing I wanted to talk about. It is the promise that we will prosper in the land if we do what is right. We find this scripture emphasized by Alma (the younger) to his sons. Let’s think about who Alma was. This is the man who no doubt was told by his father of the evils committed by the wicked King Noah and that society. It is this same Alma who forsook the highest political office in the entire governmental system of the Nephites to go out and preach the gospel of Christ (while the blessings of such service are wonderful, it has a very low salary). It was this Alma who witnessed the innocent women and children of Ammoniah be burned to death by rich lawyers and judges. It was this same Alma who had tasted of the finest things the world had to offer and recognized that they almost sent him straight to hell.

Now, considering all this, do we really think that he was giving his sons a get rich quick speech in these chapters? We are misinterpreting “prosper in the land.”

If I have offended you here today, I’m sorry, I had a really rough conversation with a good friend about this the other day, and it’s really been eating at me.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

2010-06-01T02:14:00.000-07:00

I have taken 7 college level math classes: College Algebra, Trigonometry, Calculus I, Calculus II, Multivariable Calculus, Linear Algebra and Ordinary Differential Equations ( I was thinking about saying that I had taken 8 math classes, and then when you counted only 7 in the list, comedic irony would be achieved...but I was afraid that nobody would believe that the "mistake" was intentional).

I did pretty well in all of these classes and even enjoyed many of them. All of these classes, like any math class, were very homework intensive, and I, being the proud man that I am, was often resistant to the idea of accepting help on any of this homework. I wanted to figure it out myself.

It happened more than once that I would run into a problem on an assignment that I would finish up, and then check my answer in the back of the book, and I would be wrong. I would then go back to the problem and look for obvious errors. Things like misplaced decimal points and extra negative signs would sometimes turn up. I would correct these errors and recalculate. After finishing, I would again flip to the back of the book, confident to find a matching answer to mine. Again, it was wrong.

This next time around, I start looking for conceptual and logical errors. I would review the equations that I needed to be using. I would perhaps look for similar examples in the text that could shed some light on the correct way of solving the problem. As soon as I felt that I understood the concepts and meanings behind the equations, I would return to the problem and look though it for errors.

Sometimes this process yielded results, but sometimes...it didn't.

There have been mornings when I have spent 3 or 4 hours on a single math problem, trying to figure out why in the world I wasn't getting the answer that I was supposed to be getting. I had checked and rechecked and double rechecked my numbers. I was positive that I understood the concept. I could visualize what was going on in my mind. It all made sense, but when I plugged in the numbers, it didn't turn out. I would re-read the chapter. Sometimes I would throw away all my previous work, and just rework the problem from the very beginning.

Hours would be spent. Hairs would be pulled. Books would be thrown. But answers would not be found. There are few other experiences so frustrating to me than an unsolvable math problem. One of the worst parts of the entire ordeal is that there is something in my mind that won't let me move on to the next problem until I finish the one that I am on. In essence, I was arithmetically damned. So frustrating.

I feel the same way about girls.

Beef! Its whats for dinner!

2010-05-29T11:47:00.000-07:00

My argument for not eating beef and pork was based on 3 points of logic. First, the fact that it has been a consistent pattern in my life that the things that I love to do most are usually found to be against the rules. Second, there are a few scriptures that seemed to clearly and explicitly indicate the godlessness of eating the delicious succulents that are beef and pork. The third and final point was the recent discovery of what Brigham Young said on the topic.

With these three points, or pillars if you will, I felt that my foundation was secure enough to make a move, and so, I stopped eating beef and pork.

Recently, however, I was discussing the topic with some friends and family. One of my pillars was shown to be less stable than I once assumed, and under the pressure that is the task of abstaining from meat, it crumbled. An argument, like a table, cannot stand on two legs alone (This analogy makes no sense whatsoever, but I swear I have heard it used in gospel contexts before. Lots of things stand on two legs...humans for example. Also, if the legs of the table are distributed evenly about the center of gravity of the table top, then it will stand perfectly well. In fact, under such a distribution, one leg would suffice. Of course, as you add legs to the table, stability increases. But the same stabilizing effect could be achieved with a few screws at the base of the leg into the floor boards. But are the floor boards rotting? What kind of wood are they made of? Particle board or hardwood? Steel? Some sort of carbon fiber composite? Where do all of these factors fit into the analogy? Anyways...this is an obvious over-analysis, but still, to say a concept can't stand on two legs because a table can't is a stupid.).

Well, as I was saying, one of my pillars crumbled and now I don't feel like I have enough hard evidence to merit not eating meat. The point of logic that was faulty was the scripture references. The scriptures were actually the biggest reason for deciding not to eat meat. Two scriptures in particular were shown to be not as clear as I thought.

The first is in D&C 89:13 which, in the scriptures that we all have today, says:

And it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine.

This, to me, says that we should only use meat in times of winter or of cold or famine. However, when Joseph Smith originally wrote the revelation (as found in The Joseph Smith Papers), it said the following:

...and it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine.

I don't know who changed it, when they changed it, or why they changed it. But they changed it. So it turns out that one dude actually unintentionally twisted the meaning of the scripture back to what it was before...he is still a douche.

The next scripture is in D&C 49:18 which says:

And whoso forbiddeth to abstain from meats, that man should not eat the same, is not ordained of God.

I have been encouraging to abstain from meats, so obviously, I am "ordained of God" as they say in the scripture, which to me is to say, that I am in the right.

However, if you go to the footnote that is given for "forbiddeth to abstain," it says "biddeth to abstain." Again, this small change from forbid to its antonym, bid, has changed the meaning of the scripture. Turns out I am no longer ordained of God.

Well for goodness sakes! If we are going to be this freaking confusing about the whole thing, I am just gonna eat the crap, because its delicious, and I don't want to not eat it if it isn't required. And so I say to you all, and to any future prophets who may be reading this, if you want me to abstain from meat, I am gonna need you to be a little bit more clear. Until then, I will be at Betos.

Judge ye. Have a good week everybody.

(You may all now leave comments mocking me for my attempt to follow the prophet if you so desire.)

Seattle is awesome! It makes me wonder why those Indians ever left.

2010-05-24T23:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve been to Seattle many times in my life. For some reason I deem it as “the best city in the world.” I think I enjoy being there because it reminds me of being young. Anytime my family would go on a “vacation” Seattle is usually as far as we would get. For this reason, Seattle is my happy place.

In recent months, I have had several opportunities to visit Seattle. The city has kept and maintained the glitz and glam that it has always had. However, as I was there visiting this weekend, I saw it in a much different light than I ever before had.

My cousins and I went over to watch the Mariners lose to the Padres. When we got there, we decided to go and eat at the Cheesecake Factory. I had never eaten there before, but had heard that it was good, so we went. It was good. It was freaking delicious. I am going to go so far as to say that it is the nicest restaurant that I have ever step foot into. My flannel shirt and leather boots clashed violently with the vaulted ceilings, elegant pillars, and smooth jazz music playing in the background. It was nonetheless a good time.

I felt funny being there. I liked it, but at the same time, felt out of place and even a bit guilty for allowing myself the luxury. I can definitely see the appeal of what the finer things in the world have to offer. It was all so captivating. I think it was wrong. Boom, I said it.

After lunch, we walked around downtown Seattle, which I would describe as a giant shopping mall with homeless people. We went to Nike World and Nordstrom Rack (nope, still too expensive). We thought about falling into the Gap, but then decided to go to Pike Street Market instead.

As we were down at the market, I saw a homeless guy who has since been lurking in the back of my mind. He was probably 55 years old and had long snow white (or at least would have been with a good bit of shampoo) hair as well as a long-A beard. The man was a street performer. But he wasn’t playing a guitar, or a saxophone. He was playing a piano.

What the heal? I know, crazy. It was midget upright piano. The dude was freaking jammin too. He had some CDs up on top of it that he was selling, but I don’t think they were his.

I wanted to talk to him but didn’t. Certain questions come to mind when you see a guy playing a piano on the street in the rain. Questions like “Am I on Candid Camera? Are you shooting a music video? Did the seven dwarves put up a fight when you stole their piano? At what point did you decide to start playing piano on the street? Were you ever a “normal” member of society? Who and where is your family? How are you gonna roll that piano back up this hill? Where did you learn how to play like that? Who or what do you blame for your problems? Where do you keep that piano when you sleep?”

Anyway, like I said, I didn’t talk to him, but it sure was weird. Where do people like that come from. How has he survived so long? I feel like I am a guy who has a pretty good head on his shoulders and I am barely making it in this life. How the freak has this crazy made it so long?

We headed back up to the hill to all the stores. As we walked, we passed 7 or 8 more homeless people. One dude was staggering down the street. He looked like he was in a hurry. I wondered where he was going, and again, how a guy like him has survived so long. Anyway, we came to a giant Macy’s and decided to go in…it was crazy!

It was like those revolving doors were portals to another dimension. One second I am out on a busy street, listening to cars honking, engines turning, and the homeless begging, and the next second, I’m standing on a tile floor, again, beneath a vaulted ceiling, next to elegant pillars, listening to smooth jazz. I felt like I was in the matrix or something. As I walked through the store, suddenly something caught my eye. I saw a guy, standing on a pedestal, holding perfectly still. I looked at my cousin and said, and I quote, “what the hell is that douche bag doing?”

He was a mannequin. That’s right…a real living mannequin.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached a new all time low. Are we all still adults? Did I miss the memo that high school was supposed to keep on going after graduation? Good grief.

Besides the one mannequin, there were three others. Two girls and another dude. They were all very well dressed and very beautiful people. One of them stepped down off of his podium for whatever reason. I decided that I wanted to stir up a little bit of something something, so I ascended the platform and struck a pose. To my surprise and disappointment, nothing was said. I was really hoping a snooty manager would tap me on my shoulder and whisper “excuse me sir, those podiums are for our models.” To this I would have said “shhh, I’m trying to work here.” Then he would have said “sir, don’t make me call security.” And then I would have asked for a job as a model so that he wouldn’t have to call the boys in blue, then he would have refused, then I would have accused him of being a wicked and perverse generation, and then I would have stepped down and maybe gone and looked at the shoes.

Anyway, after I stepped down off the podium for lack of reaction, I stared at one of the other models. As I stared, I couldn’t help but think of the piano man, still out in the cold, playing away and in my opinion, contributing to society a heck of a lot more than the curly-haired-buttless-punk in the designer jeans standing in front of me. Welcome to America. Look at what the Lord has done for us. This is our greatness, thank heavens for our goodness.

I’m sorry; I can’t get too worked up. After all, I didn’t even give the piano man any money. I should have though.

I’m not sure where I am going with all this…it was just all a really strange experience. It doesn’t seem right to me. It just doesn’t mesh.

All I can say is that society is messed up…really messed up.

More may be said of these experiences in later blogs. Have a good week everybody.

A word of wisdom...or perhaps foolishness? You judge.

2010-05-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken friends. The past few months have been pretty revolutionary. School, religion, women, television...it’s all pretty mind blowing. Hopefully this post will be enough to get me off my hiatus and back into the blogosphere. Only time will tell.

My topic today is pretty Mormon specific, so to all you “non-member but still wonderful people” out there, try to keep up.

The word of wisdom is one of the more debated laws among church members. Caffeine usually dominates such discussions, but I’m hoping to start something even bigger with this. Maybe someday, entire Sunday school lessons will be dedicated to riveting discussions concerning our topic here today…Sunday school lessons that have all too often been dominated by the deviously seductive and sinfully delicious Dr. Pepper…again, only time will tell.

Some of you may have seen my recent facebook status as being changed to “Dallin Shaw is going vegan…except for eggs…fish…maybe a chicken breast.”

We now turn our attention to D&C section 89, verses 12 and 13.

Verse 12

Yea, flesh also of beasts and of the fowls of the air, I, the Lord, have ordained for the use of man with thanksgiving; nevertheless they are to be used sparingly;

Here we are told that meat was definitely put here to be eaten. We are also told in what quantity we should eat it when we do. But this verse does not give us the when. So I ask, when do we eat meat sparingly? Onward!

Verse 13

And it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine.

Before we go on, an amazing story. I was talking with a kid at school, and this subject came up. I told him what the scripture said. He opened up his book, and read it to himself and then told me that I was wrong (haha, I know, ridiculous). He then read the verses aloud, but he omitted the absolutely essential comma in verse thirteen between “used” and “only” (this completely changes the meaning of the verse. COMPLETELY!!!)

I was so confused by how he read it that I just had to open up my scriptures and get some clarification. I read it to myself and saw the forgotten comma…I then proceeded to ruthlessly mock his blatant “wresting” of the scriptures.

Anyways, it all seems clear enough…don’t eat meat unless you don’t have anything else. When you do have to eat it, eat sparingly.

These verses have always puzzled me. How can something that seems to be so clearly explained, be so poorly lived, and nothing be said about it? Or am I just misunderstanding the scripture? Last night, Brigham Young dropped some truth bombs.

Go into their houses and you will find beef, pork, apple pie, custard pie, pumpkin pie, mince pie, and every luxury, and they live so as to shorten their days and the days of their children. –Discourses of Brigham Young. Pg 188

A thorough reformation is needed in regard to our eating and drinking…If the people were willing to receive the true knowledge from heaven in regard to their diet, they would cease eating swine’s flesh. I know this as well as Moses knew it, and without putting it in a code of commandments. The beef fed upon our mountain grasses is as healthy food as we need at present. Beef, so fattened, is as good as wild meat, and is quite different in its nature from stall-fed meat. But we can eat fish…fish is as healthy a food as we can eat, if we except vegetables and fruit, and with them will become a very wholesome diet. –Discourses of Brigham Young. pg 189.

When men live to the age of a tree, their food will be fruit. –Discourses of Brigham
Young. pg 189.

Sisters, will you take notice, and instruct those who are not here today, to adopt this rule – stop your children from eating meat, and especially fat meat. –Discourses of Brigham Young. pg 192.

I just wanted to post those few paragraphs. I thought they were interesting and insightful. They don’t completely resolve the issue in my mind, but they definitely give useful instruction.

Pork is certainly out, and so is grain fed beef (that's the good kind). Fish sounds like it is ok...and for some reason I am allowing myself to eat chicken...he never really comments on that. I wonder what Brigham Young would think if he walked into any one of our restaurants today. My mind's eye envisions him standing at the register, looking up at the menu behind the counter. An expressionless and empty stare fills his face as he pulls on his neckbeard in pure frustration. He then head butts the cashier and sends forth fiery flying serpents and so on and so forth.

Anyways, good luck sorting through all this.

Nibley, i love you. Nibley, i do.

2010-03-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Wow do I have something to blog about!

Well, two things really.

First

I read through some of my earliest blogs yesterday…wow, I am a funny person. Also, now that some time has passed since I wrote them, I realize what people meant when they would say that they read my blog and felt sad. Haha. Some of the things I wrote sounded much more depressed than I really have ever been.

Although, reading such sad tales brings to mind the question “why didn’t anybody call and answer my obvious cries for help?”

Just kidding.

Second (this is AWESOME!)

You all know how I feel regarding the morality of the nation in which we live. It is all I can do not to throw up all over myself and those around me when at the BYU basketball games the words “America is great because America is good” are displayed on the tremendous television screen hanging over center court .

I suppose if by great you mean rich and if by good you mean willing to enslave the nations of the earth so that we can watch for falling prices, then yes, this is a valid statement. However, reason persuades that we associate other meanings with these key words in such an arrogant statement.

This morning I was reading Hugh Nibley’s, “Approaching Zion.” I am going to type what he said. You can be the judge of whether or not it has application in our discussion here today.

In order to reconcile the ways of Babylon with the ways of Zion, it has been necessary to circumvent the inconvenient barriers of scripture and conscience by the use of the tried and true device of rhetoric, defined by Plato as the art of making true things seem false and false things seem true by the use of words. This invaluable art has, since the time of Cain, invested the ways of Babylon with an air of high purpose, solid virtue, and impeccable respectability…

Years ago I published a number of articles in various journals dealing with the Roman world of the fourth century A.D. Let us recall that early Jewish and Christian writers referred to Rome simply as Babylon; it was the true Babylon of the time, but a Babylon sustained by a high sense of virtue. For as the Romans became ever more corrupted by wealth…they became more and more fascinated with the image of themselves as honest, hard-working, straight-forward, tough-minded citizens: Hic est Ausonia (“Here is Ausonia”), they said: “The Western world of clean, fresh, simple, unspoiled pioneers.” This fiction became the very cornerstone of the official doctrine. “Rome was great because Rome was good, giving expression to the old Roman belief in the close association between piety and success.” This was the rhetoric of wealth, and it was inevitable – it always follows in such a situation, because people simply can’t live virtuously and viciously at the same time. Yet they want to be good and rich at the same time, and so they reach a compromise called respectability, which is nothing less than Babylon masquerading as Zion.

Amen, Hallelujah, Praise the Lord and thank you Jesus!

The emphasis in bold was added.

Arguing so passionately with so many about things of such personal importance can often be tiring. As I truly realize the small amount of sway that I have on the minds of those around me, it is often discouraging. Am I doomed to live in a world of constant contradiction, fighting the currents of popular opinion for the rest of my days?

Perhaps I am consigned to such a fate, but little things like this make it all worth it. I like to think that had I been sitting next to Hugh at a basketball game (if for some inconceivable reason he had gone to a basketball game) and “America is great because America is good” had come up on the screen, we would have immediately looked at each other, and simultaneously thrown our heads back in uncontrollable laughter.

While I don't believe smiling takes less muscles than frowning, we should still try to be happy sometimes.

2010-02-18T13:56:00.001-08:00

Jeeze Lueeze! It’s been almost a month. I have so many things to talk about; Conspiracy theories, boot men, my usual rants against the broken system in which we all live, dates with girls…actually scratch that, and all sorts of other things.

I really have been itching to get on here and blog blog blog until I just can’t blog anymore, but my slave master, Mr. Capitalism (or as some like to call him, Mammon), threatened to starve me to death if I didn’t give him all of my time and energy. But it’s ok, he is only a temporary employer. I am looking for a new job with a better boss, but it’s hard, because my entire life, culture has told me that there is no other boss that I could ever possibly work for and still have my needs met. We shall see.

Anyway, I’m gonna try and make this blog a more positive one. I wanted to list off a few of the good things that have happened to me in recent days. This is kind of new for me, so we will see how it goes. Mind you it is not that I don’t recognize the good things that happen to me from day to day, it’s just that I don’t usually write about them…because like it or not, funniness, like wickedness (supposedly) never was happiness.

-Maceys Grocery is now the proud seller of Blue Bunny Icecream. Talk about an answer to prayers! Do you have any idea how much of a burden it has been to have to go all the way to Walmart anytime I wanted Bunny Tracks? You may be thinking right now that I am exaggerating, but bear in mind that I want icecream far more often than most people and have far less patience than the great majority. Imagine if you had to drive 4 miles anytime you wanted to use the bathroom…now you are starting to understand my frustration.

-There has been next to no snow in Provo for the past month or so. What a blessing.

-Last Saturday I went to a light show that was all done to the tune of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. I think this is as close to an acid trip as I will ever get, it was stellar. I’m pretty sure the guy sitting next to me had been “doing pot” before the show. I was cool with this.

-SAINTS WON!!!

-That last one was a joke. I am completely and totally apathetically meloncholous and void of emotion with all things related to this or any other super bowl in the history of all that is. I do, however, believe that Peyton Manning would be way cooler to have as a bishop than Drew Brees. Boom, I said it.

-I literally had the BEST “that’s what she said” joke in the history of mankind the other day. It was awesome. I am going to dedicate an entire blog to it and 2 other amazing “that’s what she said” moments of 2009. The other two are pretty good as well, but the last and most recent one is going to knock you off of your feet. My mind is blown every time I think about how glorious it was….that’s what she said.

-Of worthy mention: The church is true. My bed is comfortable. The witch is dead. Men are free. My stomach is full and still has an incredible six pack. I’m healthy. My family still loves me. I know how to read. I am receiving a good education. I have a full head of beautiful rusty red hair. My lasagna is the best on this or any side of the Mississippi. I’m not deaf, blind, dumb, or lame. I like my job. The Death Star is not real and therefore never really blew up Alderaan. My boots are waterproof. While my wildest dreams have not yet come true, neither have my worst nightmares…sort of a bitter sweet one there. I spend a good portion of my days laughing, somewhat cynically at times, but laughing none the less.
Well, I’m all positived out. Have a good week everybody.

Dallin "Tom Paine" Shaw

2010-01-20T07:31:00.000-08:00

I wrote an opinion article in to the Daily Universe (BYU’s newspaper) and it got published. My first big break! The article was about a dance that I went to a week or so ago.

I was surprised by its publication because of how severe and cutting the article was. Below is what I sent in, word for word. AWESOME!

Friday night I attended a dance in the Wilkinson Student Center. I don’t usually go to dances because I don’t particularly enjoy the music selection and I don’t really know how to pop it and/or lock it. On Friday night, when my roommate asked me if I wanted to swing by the dance, I uncharacteristically said yes.

Upon arrival, I was witness to crude and suggestive body language of both men and women, a sight that I feel is best described as being lifted up unto exceeding rudeness. The nature of our religion and the promises made therein makes this sort of behavior unacceptable. We are all under contract to stand as witnesses and examples of Jesus Christ at all times and in all places, including Friday nights on the dance floor. I feel as though the entire environment of the dance was below the standards that we ought to be striving for. The still small voice that we speak so highly of would have had a hard time competing with the pulsating bass and the dizzying strobes. How our standards have eroded.

I am disappointed and frustrated with the BYU administrators that support this sort of low caliber activity. Thankfully enough, those mocking these eternal moral standards were clean-shaven.

I hope this immorality comes as new information to the Honor Code Office and BYU administration. If it doesn’t, then congratulations BYU, you have missed the point and surrendered the real fruits of the gospel.

Dallin Shaw
Richland, Wash.

BOOYAH!!!

Never before have I had the opportunity to shove my opinion down so many un-assuming throats at once! I would have had to write a hundred blogs before my words would have reached so many eyes! I love it!

I feel as though I am on the precipice (nice word choice!) of some pretty heavy persecution. Some guy sent me a message on Facebook asking me if I was the Dallin Shaw who wrote the article about the BYU dance. I told him I was. I am expecting him to take a swing at me sometime in the near future.

In response to the article, a friend of mine may or may not have accused me of being gay. The fact that this friend is a way cute girl made this attack extra potent.

I’m ready for what comes though. I constantly find myself arguing against four or five of my friends at once. We will see how I measure up against an entire student body. Now, at long last we shall see what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Its gonna be epic.

In other news…

I bought a 118-piece Craftsman ratchet set. I feel like a man. I used it to fix the door handle on my little sister’s car. This process was riddled with frustrations and setbacks; I might blog about it sometime.

I went on a date on Saturday night. I decided to splurge a little bit and ran over to the local Deseret Industries and bought myself a nice shirt for the occasion. I finished the date only to find the 4 dollar Deseret Industries price tag still attached to the back of my collar. When I found it, it was tucked safely away, out of sight, but who knows where it might have been gleaming earlier that night. I realize that the girl who I took on this date might be reading this, so I guess the jig is up, if there ever was a jig in the first place.

I have to cook for my dinner group tonight. I think I am gonna make a Haws classic, Christmas Eve enchiladas. I’m pretty excited.

Well, have a good week everybody. I will let you know what happens with my new found glory and fame.

Sorry, didn't want it to be this way.

2010-01-07T22:42:00.000-08:00

I was laying in my bed thinking about how to handle the recent innappropriate comments to my blog. I decided that I would begin to moderate them. If those writing the comments do not have the good sense to be able to control their words, then I will take the liberty. So much for the freedom of speech I guess.

I appreciate all those that support me, especially on these last two blogs. I deleted the comments that I felt were inappropriate and unfair, so this might make the supportive comments look somewhat uneeded, feel free to delete them if you want.

I left the comments that contradicted my opinions in appropriate tones. I hope people will continue to disagree with me in the future, but i'm not gonna take anybody's crap.

Here will be my rule. If I swear in the blog, you can swear in the comment, provided that your swear word is less severe than mine.

The order of swear words is, from weakest to strongest: h, d, a, b, s, f.

Compound swear words will not be tolerated, nor vulgar references involving anybodies family members.

Thanks for all the comments, keep on disagreeing, I love you all, have a good week.

Woo wee dingers! Aren't we just all full of emotions!

2010-01-07T15:57:00.000-08:00

Ideas, rebuttals, apologies, approaches and methods swirl around in my mind as I think of what I would like to say as a follow up to my last blog post. We will see what comes out when this piñata that is my mind breaks open and spills its contents onto this screen.

First a word on the criticism received. I cannot say that it is not deserved. My thirst for “loud laughter” and my disregard (and perhaps sometimes ignorance) of social lines that are not to be crossed has been a weakness that has followed me for as long as I can remember.

And of course, my life is surely not lacking in pride and arrogance, as I am sure has been duly noted, and in many instances expressed, by anyone who has ever had the great opportunity that it is to come to know me (note the sarcasm!).

I am working on these weaknesses.

Now in my defense…

I quote from my last post “Another rant against my culture…I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself”;

The quote itself was a blast of fresh air. It is cutting to us as a nation as well as to me as an individual.

In other words, I realize that in my own life, I have not accepted the yoke of Christ, and now I must tremble under the yoke of Caesar.

While the criticism I received was well founded, lets please not be under any pretenses that it was new information. I am fully aware of my weaknesses and have written about these in nearly ALL of my blogs. However! If the imperfect were to stop recognizing the faults that surrounded them, we would forever live in a stagnant and faulty world!

I cannot say that my blog is void of attacks on the character of people and groups. However, where these attacks exist, they are light, general, impersonal and many times in jest.

Also, do not confuse attacking (or defending) an idea or argument with attacking a person’s character.

For example:

Case 1: Blount was justified in his actions because he was abused as a child (hypothetically). This is a valid and appropriate argument.

Case 2: Dallin is wrong about Blount because Dallin swears. THIS IS NOT A VALID OR APPROPRIATE ARGUMENT OR DEFENSE! It is an ad hominen argument and is not valid or even allowed in a court of law. WIKIPEDIA! BOOM!

All this having been said, let me express my deep and abiding love for my friends. They are a great time to hang out with, joke with, and watch pointless sports games with. The purpose of the blog was not to insult them. I used this example of the Oregon football team because it was recent, and it provided a sharp contrast between what kind of men this nation was composed of during its greatest era, and what kind of men it is composed of during its weakest. We, myself included, have grown soft to inappropriate lifestyles and actions. Again, myself included.

As a final note, in my blog, I never told anybody that they were stupid, only that they were being stupid. I stick by this as firmly as I ever did. To argue that what Blount did was as of little consequence as it was being argued at the time, is nothing short of stupid. He punched another man in the face over national television and then was allowed back on the field by his organization. What does a young athlete think when he or she sees this? Whatever, in the future, I will restrain from throwing such harsh words as “stupid” around so liberally (again, note the sarcasm).

Comments are welcome!

Another rant against my culture...sorry, I just can't help myself.

2010-01-06T12:34:00.000-08:00

School has started again. I have some really interesting classes this semester and will be learning a lot. This is not what I want to talk about today.

Sometimes life has a funny way of stirring up the emotions in a man. Planets align, events occur, articles are read and arguments are had in such an order and with such timing, that the only appropriate response would be a blog post.

Allstate Insurance has come out with a new advertisement to try and demagogue a few people into getting out their check books. The scene opens with their large black hero staring off into the sunset. He then says something to the effect of: When people look back on our era, will they see a great recession, or will they see a recession that made us great?

Wow.

First of all, great recession is a borderline oxymoron. Inherent in the definition of recession are the words mild, short and less severe. He might as well have said ‘the great not so great depression.’ Secondly, are we really trying to label ourselves as a great era? Why? Because of high gas prices and a supposed war on terror (whatever that rhetoric even means, I don’t know)?

We don’t even know what greatness looks like!

I’ve been reading a book entitled “The Real George Washington: A True Story of America’s Most Indispensable Man.” The book is mostly about George Washington but also gives a fairly in depth account of the revolutionary war.

In the taking of Trenton, twenty four hundred American soldiers crossed the Delaware River on Christmas night. When picturing this, please do not see a group of trained soldiers in heavy wool coats with sturdy boots and good health. The men’s clothing was so worn it was falling off of their bodies. A literal trail of blood was left as they made the barefooted, 9 mile trek across the jagged, iced over roadway.

We don’t know the caliber of men we are spitting in the faces of when we try to deem ourselves as great.

Ohio State played Oregon in the Rose Bowl last week. I was disgusted to see Oregon’s running back, LeGarrette Blount on the field. Months earlier, after the loss of the season opener against Boise State, Blount punched a member of the opposing team in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. A few days later, Oregon head coach, Chip Kelly announced that Blount would be suspended for the rest of the season. Unfortunately, as game time arrived, winning became too important, and Blount ended up on the field instead of in a cage, where animals that can’t control their actions belong. I cheered as Ohio State took the bowl game.

The reaction of my friends was upsetting to me as I tried to argue why I didn’t want Oregon to win. Sarcastic approval of Blount’s actions was unanimous among my friends. I think that they enjoy the reaction they get out of me when they insist on being so stupid, but I kept waiting for a “just kidding” or a “yeah, Blount is a douche, I hope he loses.” These statements never came.

We are not great.

In the past I have complained about government control and unjust laws. This morning in a conversation with myself, I came to a realization: A civilization cannot function being full of uncivilized people. I am not excusing our government of the completely unconstitutional laws and policies that lurk in every corner of our system, but I am saying that we are getting exactly what is coming to us. America is still a democracy, and if the American people really wanted “hope and change,” then the American people would have it.

This country is a mess and it’s the American people’s fault. We are entertained by violence and immorality. Success is defined by who can get the most for the least. Education has become only as valuable as the pay check it can merit. Our laws are based on and passed on premises of fear and greed rather than moral courage and trust in providence.

The final straw that motivated this little rant came while I was reading an article. The quote itself was a blast of fresh air. It is cutting to us as a nation as well as to me as an individual. It underscores our complete lack of greatness and paints a vivid picture of the consequences of this shortcoming. I hope it sends as many tingles down your spine as it did mine, have a good week everybody.

We would not accept the yoke of Christ; so now we must tremble at the yoke of Caesar.

- look it up.

Testify!

2009-12-29T22:52:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure if I have spoken before about what I am about to tell you.

Oft times on my mission, my companion and I would have conflicting ideas about how we wanted to handle some given situation. Usually a light debate would ensue, where we would both express our opinions and try to come to some sort of agreement. Sometimes my companion would finally get a brain in his head and come to terms with the superiority of my plan over his. Other times he wouldn't.

When my companion wanted to play mr. tough guy, I didn't get mad or confrontational. I stayed cool, calm and collected. I would then proceed to tell him, and I quote:

"Elder, if you will do things my way, you will be happier."

He would then start to explain why he thought his way was better, and I would again calmly say:

"Elder, if you will do things my way, you will be happier."

I would then go along with whatever my companion decided to do, taking peace in the fact that I had made the consequences of his actions clear to him.

HAHA, I love this story! Truth be told, I only did it maybe 4 or 5 times. But the funny thing about it is that I was right. My companion's plans, if gone through with, ALWAYS backfired! Everytime, we would finish with our failure, I would look over at my companion, he would look back, and then look down in shame. I never rubbed it in, I never said boo, I would just let my companion learn the lesson on his own.

I share this little story for a reason. I want to put a general stamp of approval over everything I have ever said on this little blog of mine. Allow me to say something with regards to all that you have read here:

From my views on the pledge of allegiace to Indiana Jones, from Christmas to text messaging, I am right, and I soberly declare, that if you will listen to me, and do things my way, you will be happier.

Some of you will fight this idea. Some of you will hold on to your "truths." To you I say that when you come around to my philosphy, you don't have to come and admit that you were wrong. You don't have to worry about me showing up on your door step to rub it in. But be aware, that when we see each other, I will look at you, and you will look at me, and you will hang your head in shame, and we will both know.

I'm just kidding...sort of.

I can't seriously declare that I am the possesor of the whole and complete truth, but at the same time...I think I might be getting close.

Just kidding, I might be wrong (but I really, really doubt it).

You know what, nevermind, I'm right, end of story, deal with it.

As a finishing thought, I was asked if I really feel the way I say I do about the issues I have blogged about. To this I say that some of my blogs are dripping in sarcasm, others aren't. Some of my blogs are meant to make you laugh, some of them are meant to make you think. All of my blogs have a framework of true and honest opinion. I would argue til I was blue in the face about any one of my blog topics, however, depending on who you are and how well we know each other, I would use a much higher level of diplomacy and tact, and would resist slugging you in the face for not agreeing with me with all the energy of my being.

Have a good week everybody. I have to go to bed so I can wake up early to drive back to Utah tomorrow...lame.

Eulogy

2009-12-23T10:07:00.000-08:00

By now I'm sure many of you have heard that John Frusciante, Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist and funk-rock god, left the band. I was blindsided by the news early Monday morning around 12:45.

For most of the world, this is just another event in the crazy world of rock and roll, but for me, it has been a most somber time.

Let’s be clear that we here are not mourning the loss of John Frusciante. I'm sure he will go on with his emotive bends and smooth licks for years to come. But rather, we grieve over the loss of one of my dearest friends, Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I'm just gonna say it; Red Hot Chili Peppers were the best band to ever assemble on this green earth. Together, these stalwart men stood as 4 pillars of musical excellence and rock and roll awesomeness.

While the name of the band will continue on, it will never be the same, only a cheap imitation of what once was. The best cookies in the world are the best cookies in the world because they are made with all the best ingredients in the world. The moment the butter is replaced by margarine, the cookie is destroyed. Red Hot Chili Peppers were my cookie and John Frusciante my butter.

Listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers, I would find myself lost in the musical creation that only they could come together to form. Whether focused on Flea's bass, Chad's Drums, Anthony's phonics, or Johnny's licks, it was always just a matter of time before my arm hairs were standing on end, and I was antsy to get home to my guitar to start kicking out some jams.

Their music is so dynamic! The bass is in harmony with the guitar! The drums are syncopated to the vocals! Just when you think you've got it all figured out, they blow your mind with a key change! Right when you think that rock and roll perfection has be unfurled before you, John Frusciante comes soaring in with a screaming riff filled with vibrato and bends followed by a deep funk groove layed on you courtesy of the bass master himself, Flea! The lyrics usually make little if any sense at all, but the words seem to flow together so smoothly and to roll off the tongue so readily, that you can't help but think that the very end of their creation was to be ordered as such for your musical enjoyment! You can't just listen to it as background music. It has to be at the forefront of your mind so as to be able to drink it all in. It is more than just some noise to break the silence; it is the activity of the hour when being played.

It blows my mind when people don't like them. We sit around, listening to "musicians" (please notice the quotation marks!) like Cold Play, Jack Johnson and Hannah Montana, and then we hear a band like Red Hot Chili Peppers and we set them aside as though they are just a bunch of drug addicted tattoo artists!

They are modern day Mozart’s! Please, do not discredit yourself, them, and most importantly, me, by grouping them with mindless, creatively void morons like Nickleback and Buck Cherry!

It truly is sad that it has come to an end. Oh ye fair ones! I feel like there are still undiscovered rock and roll treasures yet to be revealed to the minds of this great group. But alas, I fear that these musical sensations shall remain forever lost in the dark abyss that is a world without Red Hot Chili Peppers.

They will be missed. They will be remembered. They will be stalked, captured, and killed by obsessive fans just like me all over the world.

In closing, I share with you a few parts of what to me is one of the most sensitive of the Red Hot Chili Peppers artistic triumphs. I refer to "Don't forget me."

I'm an ocean
In your bedroom
Make you feel warm
Make you wanna re-assume
Now we know it all for sure

Make the hair stand
Up on your arm
Teach you how to dance
Inside the funny farm

Not alone, I'll be there
Tell me when you want to go
I'll be there and tell me when you want to go
Come on then and tell me when you want to go
More will be revealed my friend

Sideways falling
More will be revealed my friend
Oooh...Don't forget me
I can't hide it
Come again
make me excited.

Thank you Anthony.
Thank you Chad.
Thank you Flea.
Thank you John.
Thank you Red Hot Chili Peppers, thank you.

He sees you when you're sleeping....Wait, really?...

2009-12-20T00:05:00.000-08:00

I know I just posted a Christmas blog yesterday, but give me a break. Do you really expect me to be able to get rid of all of my bah-hum-bugs in one simple post? If so, you don't know me at all.

I was just thinking of the Christmas traditions that we all practice every year. They truly are ridiculous! You know what though, I can understand why we do them. They've been around forever, they are fun and kids like them.

But still, I have to think of those first couple of crack heads that thought up the traditions in the first place:

Leroy: He Ed, Jesus's birthday is coming up in a few months, We'd better throw a party.

Ed: Thats true. He was a great guy, he deserves a swinging party.

Leroy: So what should we do?

Ed: Lets chop down a tree and bring it inside.

Leroy: Can we put lights on it?

Ed: Sure.

Leroy: Wait a minute...why would we chop down a tree? That makes no sense.

Ed: Well if we don't have a tree, what are we going to put all the presents under?

Leroy: That true. We need a place to put his presents.

Ed: Well technically the presents are for us.

Leroy: I can tell that you have thought this through.

Ed: Yeah. I figured that the person who buys the presents will wrap them in paper, and then put them under the tree.

Leroy: That would be cool, but what would be cooler is if a stranger put the presents under the tree.

Ed: Thats perfect! That way, the people who actually bought the presents don't get any credit for giving them!

Leroy: So who should the stranger be?

Ed: I was thinking a saint who lived in the north pole.

Leroy: Saint Nicholas?

Ed: Yeah, that sounds good, but the kids will call him Santa Clause.

Leroy: Why would they call him that?

Ed: Because his real name is Chris Kringle.

Leroy: DUH!

Ed: Since he lives in the North pole he is gonna need some sort of way to get around.

Leroy: Superman does it with flying.

Ed: Yeah but Santa doesn't have a cape like super man does. I don't see how we are going to be able to make this work.

Leroy: I've got one word for you....caribou.

Ed: YES! That is perfect! The only thing is that I read on wikipedia that caribou can be really tempermental. How about we use their European cousins the reindeer?

Leroy: This is so awesome!

Ed: So as a summary, Santa will fly all over the world in one night, delivering all the presents to all the homes as a religious celebration. He will get to the houses, sneak in through the front door...

Leroy: Chimney!

Ed: Right, becuase his reindeer are going to be landing on the slick slanted roofs with there tiny little hooves. The chimney is definitely the best option for entry.

Leroy: Plus, that will put Santa in prime position to fill up the socks with goodies.

Ed: Haha. We can totally make him an old fat dude. Thats hilarious!

Leroy: You don't think that might be a little far fetched? This brother has got fit down a chimney.

Ed: Whatever dude.

Leroy: Fine, we'll make him fat. I just hope this doesn't ruin the credibility of the entire holiday.

Ed: Sweet! Now all we need is a giant egg laying mammal.

Leroy: Lets save that for spring.

Ed: Cool.

Leroy: Jeeze, I really hope this idea catches on.

Ed: Of course it will! Its fun, its cool, its christian, and most of all, its logical.

Leroy: Have a merry Christmas!

Ed: Oh, is that what we are calling his birthday now?

Isn't it crazy? The funny thing is that at some point in time, there really was a dude that went out a chopped down a tree for Jesus, there really was a guy that invented flying reindeer as a bedtime story, and there really were retarded little kids who believed it all (I proved Santa wasn't real as a small child by hiding a stocking beneath a bathroom sink. The empty sock spoke volumes the following morning).

As a final thought, let me just say that I realize that this topic is fairly cliche and might have even been somewhat predictable thoughout.

Well why don't you try and write a funnier one you arrogant son of bitch.
(was that less cliche?)

"Silver and Gold"

2009-12-17T21:54:00.000-08:00

Hark how the bells, Sweet silver bells, All seem to say, Throw cares away, Christmas is here, Bringing good cheer, To young and old, Meek and the bold.

Carol of the Bells, by far the scariest of the Christmas songs.

So here I am again, at home for Christmas break. It should be a good one this year. I made sure not to leave any honeys back in P-town that would be calling me all break, wondering when I was gonna get back. I hate that sort of thing.

I have vague memories of a specific episode of The Flintstones. In said episode, Fred buys Wilma a bowling ball for her birthday. It was funny. Why? Because everybody involved, including Fred, Wilma, me, and the writers, knew that the bowling ball wasn't for Wilma. The bowling ball was for Fred. This needs no explanation. Even a small child can see right through this shallow and vain attempt to gratify self. Recognizing this is so easy, a caveman can do it.

Lets now take this same vantage point with respect to the real world. Lets look around, and try and see the bowling balls in our own lives. We don't have to look far. Its right in front of our faces.

Its Christmas. Christmas is the bowling ball....well I guess Christmas would be Wilma's birthday and the presents would be the bowling balls.

Regardless of the technicalities of the analogy, I feel as though there are not enough people laughing at the joke. Do we really not see it? We must see it! Its so obvious!

Im not saying that we have to stop doing it. I just want to hear a few more laughs. I mean, do we seriously want to say that we are doing all this for Jesus? Pa-lease. There isn't a morning out of the 365 that we are thinking more about ourselves. When was the last time you saw an 8 year old saying his prayers next to his bed on Christmas morning? Ha.

Listen, if wrapping presents and padding corporate pockets is where you get your jollies from this time of year, then by all means, jolly it up. I just ask that we be honest with ourselves. Its not for Jesus, its for us. And for any of you thinking that it is for Jesus, allow me to let you in on a little secret; he doesn't like Mac...also, he just wants you to be good.

Why cloud our celebrations with commercialism? Why let Costco stick its greedy little hands into our personal lives? Those corporate bastards would pillage our bank accounts, burn down our houses, rape our horses and ride off on our women if we gave them the chance. They are not our friends. They're just a bunch of manipulative, lieing, book-burning, arrogant, Nazi salesmen, screaming in our ears since we were born that we need their product to be happy.

We don't need it. We all already know this. Ask anybody. The next time you are in sunday school, raise your hand and conduct a poll. Ask the class if they think money is a must have for happiness. I bet 90 percent say no.

Then ask them for an explanation as to why, if we don't need it to be happy, are we so diligent in trying to find it. These perplexities boggle my mind. How do we reconcile what we say with what we do in this situation (I just sat here for like 5 minutes trying to remember the word "reconcile." I hope you appreciate its placement.)?

Whatever, I'm getting off topic.

Have a merry, merry Christmas!

Update

2009-12-15T08:32:00.000-08:00

Almost done with finals. As of now, I still have 2 more to take. One is a D&C final...

Tangent: I hate religion classes! I don't know how I forgot to put this on "Hate List." I hate them more that Max Hall hates children of God who learn about stuff in different buildings then he does. I hate answering test questions about which section the church was given its name in. I hate being forced by a dean to read my scriptures. I hate sitting through class and hearing interpretations....the list goes on da-da-dee-da-da-dum.

My other final is an electrical engineering final. It will probably take a solid 2 hours to do, but I’m not worried.

I've started to approach my tests with the same attitude as I do Final Jeopardy. It would be cool if I knew the answer, but I’m not gonna lose any sleep over it if I don't (Just kidding to any future employers who might be reading this as some sort of background check before hiring me to be your slave. I love to be ambitious!).

Anyway, when the clock strikes 6 this evening in Provo town, I will be done with yet another semester of school, all the more capable and prepared to start solving the problems of the world with applied physics and mathematics....supposedly.

Then, on Wednesday morning I will be on a plane, on my way to home sweet home in Washington State (pick any city you want, I've lived in just about all of them by now).

Have a GREAT day!

Dont forget to tip

2009-12-08T12:01:00.000-08:00

Woo hoo! Another blog post!

My ward had a fireside a few months ago for the elders quorum only. The theme of the fireside was dating. I didn’t go because I’m cool like that.

The other day my roommate showed me a list of tips for having a successful first date. He received this list at the above mentioned fireside. I think it epitomizes “the game” that I was referring to in my last blog.

For purposes of context, the fireside was a very "chill" environment. Also, the bolded lines are the actual verbatim tips, no emphasis was added to any parts of them. The italicized parts are my comments on the bolded parts. These parts are funny.

Also, any girls reading this, you have to promise not to tell who leaked this information to you.

Here we go.

1. Remember that YOU are qualifying HER to see if she is someone you want to spend more time with…and not the other way around. Lets make sure to start this relationship with a superiority complex.

2. Too many dinners and gifts early on will lead you into the “friendship zone.” Impress her with YOURSELF instead. Yourself? What if “yourself” would never do anything on this list in a million years? Ooooh, checkmate! Also, what is this “friendship zone?” Is it the opposite of the “nonfriendship zone?” Does it come before or after the “making out in a dark living room zone?” I think we all need to re-analyze what “zone” it is that we are supposed to be going for here.

3. Try a few text messages first to build familiarity. Call her on the phone to set up the date after she texts you back. Also, you can’t lateral forwards and the ball has to cross the plane before the knee goes down. Who made these rules!? Retarded.

4. Put a few things out there to test your “Flake-o-meter.” Are you going to screen my calls? I’ll only call you 9 times a day, I promise. Should I be putting these lines on index cards?

5. On the phone, joke that SHE might turn out to be weird. This subtlety lets her know that YOU are normal and fun. Do NOT do this unless you are 100% absolutely sure that you want to suck face with this girl because this tip works everytime.

6. On the date, don’t suck up, don’t over-compliment, don’t tread safe, boring ground. Don’t be “one of the girls” either. Treat her like one of the guys. Tease her a bit. But BE A GENTLEMAN! In other words, what you are saying is be a courteous jerk? What!? These are useless lines of information. If I were to make a list of tips for how to make a list of tips for the guy that made this list of tips, it would contain only one tip; “Shut the hell up.”

7. Be the first to say “friends” – flirt like crazy, but let her know that you are looking forward to making a friend if nothing else…this lets her know that you have no expectations and aren’t needy or desperate. Mention this during the first date! I don’t know how I feel about this tip…I’m not going to use it.

8. RELAX and treat her like your best friend. Lean back, talk about INTERESTING topics like drama, violence, scandal, or comedy and make cocky/funny jokes. You can save the compliments for another time. Cocky/funny jokes? What if I am not a Cocky/ funny person? Am I still supposed to impress her with MYSELF (see number 2 in the list). Also, how scandalous and violent should our conversations become…in fact why talk about iniquity when we can go to a movie and actually see it? In all reality, we could even cook up a little bit of trouble of our own. Can we gossip too?

9. If you want to spend more time with her, go someplace where the conversation is built-in, like a place with fun shops and things to do. Wander away from her a few times to communicate that you aren’t “needy” or “clingy.” This is by far my favorite tip. What happens when your wanderings communicate that you’re not interested, or that you are an asshole? What then? Hows this for a tip: If you like being around the person that you are on a date with, then be around them. If you don’t like being around the person that you are on a date with, then why did you ask them on a date…also, don’t ask them on a second date.

10. At the end of the date, be natural. Simplest thing to do is say you had a great time, say “goodnight,” and then leave. No need to force awkward “next time” conversations. I think this is a good tip.

Another bit of data

2009-12-07T06:36:00.000-08:00

Finals Week is fast approaching. This is always such a great week for blogging. There is no motivation for wasting time like having a responsibility that you don't want to face.

Last night a friend of mine came over to talk to me and my roommate about some girl problems. Apparently this young fellow feels that he met the love of his life, but is just recently discovering that the love of his life isn't seeing things so clearly from the other end.

We really had a great conversation. I think you all would be surprised at how motivational I was with my friend.

My words were full of hope and optimism. I made that heartbreak kid feel like a Rocky Balboa of love. I think I heard him humming Eye of the Tiger as he walked out the door, determined to convince his lady that he was her Italian Stallion (ADRIAN!!!!).

It was a great conversation. Completely epic. I should have known however, that the cosmos and its unfailing love of irony would never let me say so many words without trying to make me eat at least a few of them...or all of them for that matter.

It was literally less than 5 minutes after my pep talk had ended with my buddy that the girl that I have been trying to trick into dating me for the past little while sent a text message that put the kybosh on the entire operation.

Congratulations, you've just been punked be-otch! Yours truly, The Universe.

All I could do was laugh...at first....anyway.

I am actually dealing really well with my "heartache." Practice makes perfect I guess.

All (or most) joking aside, it has been my experience that the shitty conversations like the one I had last night act as the necessary fertilizers to true and honest friendships. They remove pretense, obliterate "sexual tension," and define appropriate expectations.

As ironic as it may be, I really do feel that two people can't decide whether or not they like each other as human beings until they decide that they don't like each other as human beings.

If I had my way, culture would abandoned the futile and often frustrating interpretive dance we call dating and just start talking to each other. Frank, awkward, and hurtful conversation, mmmmm, nothing like it.

I know, I know...how could such a junior high mentality of passing notes ever work better than the system in use today, under which so many happy relationships have flourished? The very concept of starting a relationship with honest communication of emotion is ridiculous. You've gotta learn to hide those feelings early on. How else are you going to keep control of a relationship for the rest of eternity if your companion knows how you really feel? You've got to guard that information at all costs.

Wow, who knew that a guy with so little relationship experience would have so much to say about it.

As a final note, please understand that this blog is not a cry for sympathy, but rather an opportunity to complain about accepted norms, and crack a few jokes...like most things in my life.

Its experiences like this that keep us all feeling human. As Garth Brooks so eloquently put:

"Life is not tried, it is mearly survived, when you're standing outside the fire."

Mad Madam Max

2009-11-30T14:52:00.000-08:00

I love it when something happens that makes me want to stand up and argue. I JUST LOVE IT!

A friend of mine had this as her facebook status.

"Max Hall said what everyone else thinks. What's the big deal???"

Another one of my friends said that "they like this" in response to this status update.

For those of you who are not living in the world that revolves around 22 full grown men with C averages running around in costumes pretending to be important, let me give you an update.

BYU beat Utah this week in football. It came down to overtime. Utah kicked a field goal on their possession, and then BYU got the ball and scored a touchdown to win the holy war. I attended the first half of the game but then left to go pretend to be an athlete playing soccer with some friends.

I am actually a little bit glad that I left, seeing that I don't really see myself rushing on to the field with my fellow cougars to celebrate the victory. However, Because of my weak moral character, I am very susceptible to peer pressure and would have probably ended up going down and doing it because my friends did. I would then spend the rest of my life regretting the time that I sacrificed my pessimism for a taste of happiness and normality (this is not a real word).

Back to King Max.

After the game, during the press conference where we gathered around to listen to the great philosophers of the gridiron, Max Hall (the BYU quarterback) was asked about his feelings concerning the victory and The University of Utah in general, he answered with the following statement:

I don't like Utah. In fact, I hate them. I hate everything about them. I hate their program, their fans. I hate everything...I think the whole university and their fans and their organization is classes. They threw beer on my family and stuff last year and did a whole bunch of nasty things. I don't respect them, and they deserve to lose.

When I read this, I couldn't help but picture the scene in Sword in the Stone when Mad Madam Mim rants about her hate for sunshine as she pulls her hair and kicks her legs in frustration. A very childish display. Oh well, what more can one expect from a person who has spent the majority of his life playing a game.

Now, on to the status update of my friends. In particular, I would like to address the question "What’s the big deal?"

I do not condemn Max Hall for harboring feelings of animosity towards a school. Even considering the fact that it was only a few select members of the student body who wronged his family, I do not think less of him for stereotyping the entire school as “classless.”

The reason that I don’t feel like I can be too hard on him about his feelings is because I think of how I might react and feel if the same was done to me and my family. It would be difficult not to feel hate toward anything and everything that represented or participated in such an organization (mind you that I am not saying that he, I, or anybody are justified in their hating another person. I am just saying that I can relate with how he feels).

The problem I have is that he expressed this personal opinion in such a way that made it look like he was expressing the opinion of an organization. I understand that these might not have been the intentions of his actions, but they were, however, the results.

Brigham Young University is indisputably linked with the name of the Church, and therefore, the name of the Savior. How many times have I been told by friends and family that BYU football is one of the biggest missionary tools the church has? That is why it is such a big deal.

Does Max Hall realize that his hateful statement was being subsidized by the sacrifice of millions of faithful tithe payers the world around?

I realize that he is only a young man, but he needs to be more aware of his influence. While he is free to choose how he feels about other people, he, as the chosen son of BYU, is not free to express them. He should have been more prudent. His statement was un-sportsman-like and un-Christ-like, especially for being a holder of the things he holds!

The more disturbing thing to me is the general attitude of acceptance that BYU has towards him and his actions. Why do we support it? Because he can through a piece of leather further than we can? Are you kidding me?

I know a guy who was kicked out of BYU for throwing a few water balloons and calling somebody a few dirty names. And here Max Hall stands up in front of the masses, expresses the feelings he did (which are the root causes behind many of the sins that the honor code tries to prevent), and all the school newspaper can do is pat him on the back, tell him to calm down and send him out to keep throwing those touchdowns.

It is insulting to me and it is wrong. Max Hall needs to know that we do not approve of his childish and destructive actions. The University of Utah needs to know that every single person that attends that school is just as good as any single person that attends this school. If we do not agree with this, then we do not understand the gospel or its author.

To hate somebody over a game of hopscotch to me seems ridiculous.

I’m not saying that we should kick him out of school, chase his family out of town and burn Lavelle Edwards Stadium to the ground. I’m as big of a fan of letting a guy off the hook as anybody, but he and the rest of BYU need to realize that his statement was inappropriate, and a public apology needs to be made.

One final question to my readers.

Do you hear that?

Can you hear the silence?

That’s the silence that follows the explosion of a Dallin Shaw Truth Bomb.

Booyah baby…booyah (best if read in a whisper).

Hate List

2009-11-11T06:40:00.000-08:00

Things I hate:

-Mushrooms. They taste like dirt.

-Anonymous comments. Show your face!

-Bad texting etiquette. Just becuase you can't see me doesn't mean you can ignore me.

-Indians. Dot not feathers.

-This one kid in the physics homework lab. He asks for help and then doesn't pay attention as I unfold the mysteries of the cosmos before his eyes.

-Jill from The Biggest Loser. She could use an abusive husband.

-The biggest loser. This is a reference to myself.

-The Biggest Loser. Since when do we want to have anything to do with the morbidly obese? I thought our society was supposed to shun those people.

-Expectations. The less you expect, the more it feels like your getting. Hows that for a life tip?

-Socialized medicine. I dont really know what this is, but I'm a Mormon, so whatever.

-People who refuse to honk. If the guy infront of you at the traffic light doesn't see the green arrow, HONK! Its not rude, its communcation. What is rude is to let the 10 people behind you miss the green light becuase you were two afraid to say something (via your horn).

-Studying. Thus this list continues to be written.

-People who don't agree with my obviously correct opinions. So immature.

-Piano players who only play hymns. I can't imagine going through the hassle of learning how to play an instument and then not even learning cool songs (ex. "Right Now" by Van Halen).

-The police. Why are we giving these highschool drop out construction workers guns?

-Rancors. By far, the scariest of alien monsters.

-Nicholas Cage. That guy is the definition of douche.

-Card games. Hey, you want to come over and flip a coin 1000 times tonight, see how many times its heads, then if it comes out heads more times that tails, I will brag that I am better at flipping a coin than you are? Still, I don't know how I lose so consistently at something so random.

-Work. Huh?

-My cell phone. Yes, I still have it. No, it still doesnt ring when people call me...not sure how to fix that.

I'm sure there are other things. Have a wonderful day.

To the tits on boars

2009-11-09T11:04:00.000-08:00

Man, nobody is blogging these days...or at least none of the 5 people that I know.

I've been wanting to get on here for the past little while and blog about what some of you may consider a "boring" topic. This particular theme might also seem like it does not belong on my blog seeing that it is a subject that has such little place and application in my life. The subject is work.

My young life was one of relative ease. My parents don't own a farm, so there goes changing water, driving tractors and weeding sugar beets. My sister had, and might still have, OCD when it came to carpets, toilets, windows and anything else that might ever have need of being cleaned, so out go all of the household chores.

As a youth, I had several part time jobs, but never one that I kept for more than a month. Whether it was scout camp, or just the fact that I didn't feel comfortable in irrigation boots, It seemed that there always arose some excellent reason to quit, which I had no moral problem with doing.

I did carry a paper route from the time that I was 12 until I was about 18. I would like to say that work ethic was my motivator, but that would be a lie. Candy was my motivator. Also, even as a young man, I could see that if I was going to someday manipulate my children, I was going to need some sort of hardship to guilt trip them with.

I think that a boy, living with his parents, can be happy in this physical state of decomposition because all of his needs are being met, and there is no outside pressure.

It was not until I returned from my mission, that I began to feel the negative effects of my life long habits of trying to avoid work rather than trying to find it.

When faced with the prospect of having to get a job, and not only working for 20 or 30 hours a week for the rest of my life, but maybe even 40, I was crushed. All happiness seemed to slip away, out of my reach and into that dark abyss where all other childhood dreams rot and die. I knew that if I was going to be happy, perspectives had to be changed.

So these things have been what my most recent musings have pertained to. Please allow me to share some of the truth bombs I have been dropping on my own mind in some of the conversations I have been having with myself.

As pertaining to my fear of work, I do not believe that I am in this boat of despair alone, in fact, as I look around at our culture (or any culture), I rarely see anybody who is not sitting right next to me, trying to figure out a way to escape the dreaded curse of work. Even "successful" people wait for the day when they will be able to escape to the cabin on the lake and spend their time tanning and dieing.

We live in a society that waits for the weekend like a dog at the front door waiting for its master. I am surrounded by young people like myself, in their twenties, and I am already hearing talk about retirement. Its ridiculous! If any of us are ever going to be happy in this life, we need to learn to be happy working.

There are many things in this life that are meant to be miserable and hard. Things like stubbed toes, hunger, and heartache were put here to be overcome. Work does not fall in this same category.

The curse given to Adam and Eve when thrown out of the garden was not that they had to work, it was that Eve had to bear children, and Adam had to put up with them. They were commanded to care for and tend to the garden long before any transgression occured.

Work is meant to be loved, and whether we want to accept this, it is what we will be doing for the rest of eternity. I hate to burst the bubble, but there will not be a speed boat and a pina-colada waiting for us just inside of the pearly gates. We will be doing the same thing that our Heavenly parents have been doing for the past few eternities, namely, bringing to pass the immortality of others, which as far as I can tell, is damn hard work.

It is interesting that in the above referenced scripture, the terms "work" and "glory" are used synonomously.

What I am trying to say is that we need to stop running from work and start running towards it. It is not a bad thing, it is a good thing, and nothing worth while has ever happened without it.

This is not to say that there are not miserable jobs out there, of course there are. But we can still be happy doing them, and they all provide satisfaction and fullfilment when the right attitude is applied.

If the sun were to stop shining and therefore putting energy into the earth, the environment would become toxic, all life would die, and earth would become nothing more than a giant asteroid. it is the same with our lives, if we do not work, everything fails. We should not work so that we can someday be lazy. We should work so that we can someday work harder (this to a lazy man might seem like being exiled to a never ending cornfield (an analogy I will explain at another time if it needs be)).

I do not claim to have mastered a love for work, not even close. But thats where I hope to be someday.

I am proud to say however that I have been putting in at least 60 hours a week for the past few months AND I cleaned my bathroom last night, so BOOYAH!

Mostly I wrote this blog for myself and for my little brothers. To them I say learn to love work now, so you don't have to learn it later. If you can be happy while you work, than you can be happy during your life, because life is work (unless you figure out a way to get somebody else to do your work for you in the which case you will, I promise, burn in hell forever with all the other lazy asses that have ever been. See you there maybe).

Provo Utah: Where an Adult can be a Kid

2009-10-25T13:28:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting at the BYU vs TCU football game this Saturday evening. It was a good time. I'm not a huge football fan, but it's fun to go with friends, joke around, remain seated while the band plays the star spangled banner and just get out of the house and away from my text books for a little while.

So we were sitting there with a group of about 8 kids in the student section having a good old time. All of the people in our little group had tickets to go to the game (thus they could get into the stadium) but only about half of the tickets that we had were for where we were actually sitting. The rest of the tickets were spread throughout different parts of the student section.

We didn't feel like it would be a big deal to all sit together, since nobody really ever sits where they are supposed to anyway.

On this particular night however, we ran into some problems.

You see, sitting right next to us were two old (and fat) people who obvoiusly bought tickets off of one of their grandchildren. These people were not about to tolerate mine and my friends gross attempts to have a good time. They whined like little children.

There was another group of adults, not students either, sitting a few seats down who were also blaming me and my college age friends for all of their life problems.

Near the end of the third quarter things came to a head when some dude and his angry wife kept on nagging us to scoot down. We repeatedly told them that there was no room. They continued to nag. It all reminded me of the family road trips with the 7 year old who just had to have a drink, despite the fact that there was no drink to be had.

Its not like these people didn't have seats, they just didn't have as much room as they felt that their God had entitled them to via their holy system of capitalism (yes, everything is about money).

Anyway, they finally called up the event staff people who had the awkward task of dealing with an apathetic football fan who was getting anxious to make a scene.

I felt bad for the dude who had to deal with the problem, so I decided to just leave. I didn't really care about the game, and also I really wanted to have some words with the people that were complaining as I walked out.

My mom will be happy to know that no swear words were used. While this decreased shock value, I think it supported my credibility.

As I walked by the 50 year old, I pointed out the irony of me, the college student, having to leave the college football game so that he could watch. With about the same tone that I take with my little brothers when they start trying to wipe boogers on each other, I told him to grow up.

Then there was another dude, he was probabley about 30. He was looking at me with a big dumb smile on his face, so I told him to grow up too. He said something back to which I told him to grow up again. We had a few more words which eventually climaxed with him inviting me to "bring it."

Ha!

Really sir?? Bring it?? Really?? How old are we again? Do you really think that we are going to get in a fight? Two full grown men? Really? What kind of fantasy are you living in right now? Is there a girl somewhere near by that you're really hoping to impress with this? Really? Is everybody going to gather around us in a big circle and start chanting "fight, fight, fight..."? Would your really hit a guy over the 10 remaining minutes of a football game in which your team was down by 20+ points? Really sir?? Really??

I didn't actually say any of that. I just smirked at his ridiculous invitation and again repeated my suggestion to grow up and walked away.

That's the story.

CAN WE ALL PLEASE GROW UP!!!!! I am so sick of tattle tale, cry baby, self entitled, spoiled brats! Good grief!

I hope that when I am old and getting ready to die, if I happen to be at a football game (for some reason that I honestly cannot forsee happening ever) and I see a situation developing that might cause someone to have to leave, I will have the maturaty to give my seat away, and go home and sit in my living room, and bitch at the players from my Lazyboy instead of from some cold aluminum bleacher.

It was all pretty crazy and I personally feel it couldn't have worked out better for myself. I didn't have to stay for the last part of the game (I have a friend who gets annoyed when people leave early, but this little scenario gave me a great excuse). I got to tell two people off, both of whom were older than me. I have just a little bit more evidence to support my theories about why we were driven from everyplace we ever settled. And finally, I have a great blog topic. Best 10 bucks I ever spent!

"What the hell am I supposed to do with out my cell phone!"

2009-10-21T06:32:00.001-07:00

Well, after 3 long years, my mother is finally cutting the cord on the family cell phone plan (that's funny because cell phones don't have cords....laugh).

My relation to my brothers and sisters is now limited to blood only. No longer do we enjoy free texting and endless minutes, but are left to communicate through smoke signals and the occasional facebook wall post.

I, personally, am proud of my parents. It takes a lot to wean a child from the teet, a lot indeed.

To all of my siblings reading this who are upset about the decision, don't be mad at mom and dad only. Focus some of that negative energy my way. I have been counseling them to drop the cell phone plan for months now.

I could see that their compassion was going to be their economic downfall, so naturally I told them to abandon the children and save the money. I've also advised them to, like many species of insect do, eat the smaller and weaker of their offspring. I'm not sure when or if they plan on doing that.

So now its decision making time. Do I get my own plan, or do I get off at Exit 101 of the technological super highway of communication and head for AntiSocialville?

I think the best thing to do in this situation is to make a list of the pros and cons of not having a cell phone.

CONS:

1. No more late night phone conversations with all of the smoking hot girls I met earlier that day.

2. No more Friday night rave invitations via text.

3. Can't hold up my phone to the slow songs at rock concerts.

PROS:

1. My bishop can't get a hold of me to give me an assignment.

2. My car radio won't make that annoying noise when my cell phone gets too close to it.

3. More pocket space to hold everything from candy to cool looking rocks.

4. No more cell phone bill, but you still get to use the phone for all the useful stuff, like as an alarm clock and a calculator.

5. No more dropped calls.

6. I will be able to tell my future children that "I didn't have a cell phone when I was a kid and you're gonna be just as miserable and lonely as I was because I'm in competition with you!"

So that's 6 pros to 3 cons. Although it should be noted that the 3rd con isn't true. I will still be able to hold up my phone at rock concerts, I just won't be able to call people from said rock concert.

Cons 1 and 2 really are true, but in reality have never happened before and will probably never happen in the future.

So all pros it is then.

So how will I communicate with the world around me? Well there still remains a multiplicity of forms of communication.

I could us emails, blogs, facebook, carrier pigeons, a giant spot light with a big D mounted on the front of it (this will only work on cloudy nights), post it notes on doors, messages in bottles, Morse code, and of course my mouth.

It might be a little bit rough at first, but I'm sure it will work out fine. The pioneers did it, so can I.

Just a Touch and Go

2009-10-15T16:05:00.000-07:00

Its been a little while since my last post. I've been so busy with school and work that I don't have time to blog.

I have seriously never in my life been so consumed by things that were not video games.

From government and economics to evolution and farting in elevators, there are alot of things that I want to talk about, but the time is just not available.

The only reason I am writing this little quickie is because I just learned about "Google Analytics."

Google Analytics is a web application that will track activity on any web page that you want it to (provided you have access to editing the source code (the Html of the webpage)).

Its pretty cool and I wanted to see how many hits I had on my blog when I put up a new post. So congratulations, you've just been surveyed bitch.

I also wanted to use google analytics to track how many people visited my facebook homepage...but then I decided not to for fear of what I might find...which would be nothing.

In other news, I have been listening alot to the songs "State of Love and Trust" by Pearl Jam and "This is not Hell" by Jimmies Chicken Shack. I don't really know what either of these to songs are talking about, but I think that they both relate to my life in someway or another.

Anyway, have a good week everybody...or month...whatever.

Taste my life.

2009-09-28T08:21:00.001-07:00

I know that I already posted once today, but I was reading this in my thermodynamics book and it was funny. I quote:

In the development of the second law of thermodynamics, it is very convenient to have a hypothetical body with a relatively large thermal energy capacity that can supply or absorb finite amounts of heat without undergoing any change in temperature. Such a body is called a thermal energy reservoir, or just a reservoir. In practice, large bodies of water such as oceans, lakes, and rivers as well as atmospheric air can be modeled accurately as thermal energy reservoirs because of their large thermal energy storage capabilities or thermal masses. The atmosphere, for example, does not warm up as a result of heat losses from residential buildings in winter. Likewise, megajoules of waste energy dumped in large rivers by power plants do not cause any significant change in water temperature (emphasis added).

HA-HA! This is what we are teaching the engineers of tomorrow. Take that Al Gore! Ha.

Just decided to crap this one out.

2009-09-28T06:31:00.000-07:00

It's 7:32 in the a.m. here in Provo Utah. I have Biology in 18 minutes.

Pearl Jam concert tonight. Jeeze Lueeze, I love concerts. They are the wind beneath my wings.

I havn't blogged lately because I havn't had time. You see, thanks to holy holy capitalism, ALL of my time must be consumed in educating myself and forging for food. Forget about developing yourself in any other way, you have to choose only one pursuit. I don't have time to get into this topic right now, but let me just say, its enfuriating.

Went on a date this weekend.

A month or so ago I went to an Incubus concert. I don't think I ever got on here and announced that. So let it be written.

It is time for Biology. Hopefully we talk about something controversial today, like evolution or drilling for oil in Alaska. I could use a good argument.

Just a few quick thoughts

2009-09-06T22:01:00.001-07:00

This weekend while I was watching the BYU game something funny and awkward happened. (Yes, I watched the game. It was either that or sit at home alone. I even had a good time watching it. Whatever, you can't judge me. You don't even know me.)

We were sitting there, and a US Open commercial came on. This prompted someone in the room to ask if Serena and Venus are still the best two women in tennis. This prompted me to say that Serena Williams' legs are disgusting. This prompted the girl sitting next to me and the girl sitting across the room to think that I was disgusting.

I'm not sure if these two girls ever have or ever will read my blog. But if they do, let me just say; Kristen and Danielle, Serena Williams has disgusting legs and I will never, in a million years, apologize for having the good sense to recognize that. I hope we can still be friends.

One of the funnier parts of the story is that while I was trying to defend my position on the matter, the 4 other guys in the room just sat silently, looking at the ground or pretending to be otherwise occupied. I think one of the guys spent a good three minutes at the sink getting a drink of water. Anyway, after the girls left, I brought up how awkward the Serena comment was. And they were all like, "yeah, totally awkward." They then all started to express how much they agreed with me. To them, let me just say; Brad, Brendon, Roman and Peter, you're all chicken shits. I hope we can still be friends.

That's my first thought of the night. Here is my second.

It makes me feel good inside when I see pictures of girls that have rejected me in the past to find out that they got fat. It's especially delicious and satisfying when I happen to come across the picture while eating a Twix...or four. To all of those many girls let me just say; I hope we can still be friends.

Here is my third and final thought.

I am jerk. I hope we can still be friends.

"It's a long way to the top"

2009-08-31T19:28:00.000-07:00

How rock and roll are you? Here's your chance to find out. Take this quiz. Give yourself a point for each time you answer yes, no points for answering no. Good luck.

1 When you look back on your life, do you consider rock concerts to be the "bright spots?"

2 Have you ever sat in your car after you have arrived at your destination just to finish the song you started listening to a little bit too late into your journey?

3 Is your toilet bowl a little bit "wiggly" because of the heavy bass pedal action from your drumming along with Chad Smith on your iPod while doing your business?

4 Do your arm hairs stand on end when David Grohl screams into your ears?

5 Have you ever made a joke about letting John Frusciante have his way with you sexually? Have you ever been serious?

6 Do you constantly find yourself trying to turn up your iPod only to find that the volume is already maxed out, and the only option you are left with is to further embed your headphones deeper into your ear canals?

7 Do you talk to the imaginary crowd in between songs that you play on your guitar in your bedroom behind your locked door?

8 Have you ever used a student loan to buy a Les Paul?

9 Have you ever had an inter-racial three-way while hopped up on cocaine and Mountain Dew?

10 Have you ever had a dream about being friends with Ben Folds? Was it completely awesome!?

11 Do you wear a Cubs hat just because you saw a clip on YouTube once where Tom Morello was wearing one?

12 Have you ever slipped into a calm and melancholous state of denial because you thought your iPod had been stolen?

13 Would you describe listening to Kurt Cobain sing about eating fish as "heroin in your veins?"

14 Even though the concept of hell terrifies you, do you take comfort in the fact that you are at least gonna be able to listen to good music for the rest of your eternities?

15 Does long, shaggy, unkempt hair complete you?

16 Do you base most of how you look at other people on the type of music they listen to?

17 Does it infuriate you when people say things like; "That’s not music, that’s just a bunch of noise with some guy screaming in the background?"

18 Do you know who Chad Smith, David Grohl, John Frusciante, Ben Folds, Tom Morello, and Kurt Cobain are? Also, do you know who Mike Einziger is? Though not mentioned in the blog until now, knowledge of who he is is a fundamental of being a rocker.

19 Did you keep a tally of the points on this quiz? If so, then you’re probably not as rock and roll as you think you are. As Abraham Lincoln put it, "It isn't about the score. It isn't about coming out on top. It's about the heart…Rock on mother f***ers.

Just to finish up, here are some of the thoughts of one of the great rock groups of our day on what it means to be a rockstar. I speak of the one, the only, Nickleback.

I'm through with standing in line
to the clubs I'll never get in
It's like the bottom of the ninth
and I'm never gonna win
This life hasn't turned out
quite the way I want it to be

tell me what you want

I want a brand new house
on an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub
big enough for ten plus me

yeah, so what you need

I'll need a, a credit card
that's got no limit
And a big black jet
with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet

Been there done that

I want a new tour bus
full of old guitars
My own star
on Hollywood Boulevard
Somewhere between Cher
and James Dean is fine for me

So how you gonna do it?

I'm gonna trade this life
for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair
and change my name

'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
Livin' in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny with her bleach blonde hair
and well..Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I wanna be great like Elvis
without the tassels
Hire eight body guards
that love to beat up assholes
Sign a couple autographs
So I can eat my meals for free

I'll have the quesadilla... ha ha

I'm gonna dress my ass
with the latest fashion
Get a front door key
to the Playboy mansion
Gonna date a centerfold
that loves to blow my money for me

And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary in today's who's who
We'll get you anything
with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer
on speed dial well..
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I'm gonna sing those songs
that offend the censors
Gonna pop my pills
from a Pez dispenser
Get washed-up singers
writing all my songs
Lip sync 'em every night
so I don't get 'em wrong

Well we all just wanna be big rockstars
Livin' in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny with her bleach blonde hair
And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary in today's who's who
We'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial well..
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

HA-HA-HA!!! DOUCHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RECESSION!!!

2009-08-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

Do you want to know what the word "recession" spells back words? Noissecer. Do you know what that means in Spanish? Absolutly nothing, just like the forwards version in English.

There's been a lot of talk about a "recession" of late. I see people around me that seem to be worried and feel that something needs to be done. I also get the feeling that people feel like it snuck up and took us by surprise. I would like to discredit both of these ways of thinking.

Haven't we been able to see this coming for the past 15 years? I personally realized that we were headed into a national economic crisis when Wendies stopped putting shredded cheddar cheese on their side salads. And if that wasn't enough to convince me, the sudden disappearance of the chives from the Nacho Bell Grande at Taco Bell was a dead giveaway

So let’s not be surprised by our situation. You mess with the bull and you’re gonna get the horns. It’s time to pay the piper, face the music, lie in our bed, etc...

Next, what is it exactly that we are so worried about? Has our monopoly game run out of the five dollar bills and now we have to start using napkins instead?

We act like all of this economic "wealth" that we have had all of these years was actually real. Let me tell you that it was and is as fake as the politician who ordered it to be printed.

I personally feel that things are going to be just fine for those who are willing to work. Have my hands lost their strength? Has the earth stopped producing? No, of course not.

Sure, some life changes will have to be made. You might not get that new four wheeler you have been eyeing and the laptop might not remain as commonplace as sliced bread, but so what!? If that is what we all mean by "recession," then I have been living in a recession for all of the twenty four years of my recessed life.

We suddenly realize that we are going to have to start living a more modest lifestyle, and we go into a panic, dropping to our knees, praying for the rains of prosperity to return to this, our promised land.

Here is what is so mind-blowing about it all; For the past 50 years, as millions of people around the world have gone to bed hungry every night, with no air conditioned car to take them to their non-existent job on their non-existent paved roads the next morning; we have been out on the mall, or at home wrapped up in our down comforter and we haven't even winced at the thought of their suffering. But the moment Southwest Airlines starts serving only one bag of peanuts instead of two, we start the rain dance.

We need to get over ourselves and accept that we have been consuming much more than we have been producing. I think a better word for our situation than recession would be equalization.

You want to know what I feel about our economic situation in America right now?

One word.

FINALLY!

The root of the word recession is recess. As in, "Finally, a recess from all the stupid shit I've been dealing with my entire life."

Plus, the only way to fix a society as messed up as ours is to, like Maynard James Keenan so eloquently put, "Flush it all away." I guess a recession is the first step in the process.

"Hangin' 'round, downtown by myself and I had too much caffeine..."

2009-08-11T23:23:00.000-07:00

It's eleven thirty. I'm sitting at my parent's computer in Washington wondering what I am going to blog about.

That's right everybody, Washington. I quit my job.

I called my supervisor up on the phone and explained to him that I felt underpaid and underappreciated. I told him that I didn't feel like there was any trust between me and the company. I told him that I felt I could find a better paying job elsewhere. Pretty much the only thing I didn't tell him was the truth.

I'm Lazy and it's too hot outside.

Anyway, in other news, I'm thinking of getting some new glasses pretty soon. My current ones were knocked off of a fence onto the hot asphalt by one of my blundering ex-coworkers. Then said coworker proceeded to step directly on top of my vision enhancing hardware, which put large and irreparable scratches in the lenses.

I'm going to go ahead and add this coworker to the list of reasons for quitting my job. I don't like him. He was very slow moving, he always had to go to the bathroom, and he was fat. Now that I make a list, it seems that all three of these attributes might have been in some way related.

I'm fine with fat people, I really am. Truth be told, I should probably be one of them. In the past 2 hours I have had 2 pieces of blackberry pie, a Snickers bar, and a respectable amount of red licorice. I have the sweet tooth of an 8 year old, the spending power of a 24 year old, and the body of a Greek god.

It's not fair, I know. But don't worry, someday my pancreas will go dead, my legs will become numb, and my insulin shots will run out. And on that day you'll be able to come and see me in my bed ridden state and there say, "I told you so." Just make sure you bring some Swedish Fish when you come to deliver the message.

Anyway, my new glasses are going to be a different style. For the past 6 or 7 years I have been all about the thick black plastic frames. You know, Weezer style. But those are far too trendy now days.

I suppose the new frames I am looking at getting could be considered "old person glasses," which I am fine with.

There is a pair of frames at Costco that I have had my eye on for a while. They're made by Stetson.

A highly polished gold wire frame. Extra-large lenses, providing space for an attractive set of bifocals. A heavy crossbar, elegantly bridging over the top of the lenses for extra support and style. All of these features and more combine to create the rugged yet beautiful look that Stetson apparel has come to be known for.

I'm feeling pretty good about them. You might be thinking right now that I'm going to look completley ridiculous. Don't worry, these frames are just plain classy.

Well, an hour and fifteen minutes later and I'm all blogged out. Have a good night everybody.

Preface

2009-08-07T16:38:00.000-07:00

It's always an interesting experience to find out that new people are reading my blog. It’s exciting and encouraging to see my pool enlarge. It is also disconcerting to think that people are coming to know who I am through such an expressive, naked, and even exaggerated medium.

I feel like getting to know me through my blog is like trying to get to know what lemonade tastes like by sucking on a lemon. Yes, lemonade tastes very much like lemons, but if you leave out the sugar and water, you're not going to want to have much to do with the crock of Country Time.

My blog is a concentrated version of my cynical, sarcastic, opinionated, shallow self. But there is a whole other element to who I am as person. Unfortunately all that stuff isn’t very fun to blog or read about.

I sometimes worry that people who don't know me, read this blog and think that I am this dark, vengeful and embittered person. Well I'm not! While my life does have a very sarcastic flavor, you can't just suck on my lemon and expect to know who I am. Ha!

Another aspect of my blog that sometimes worries me when it comes to new people reading it is that there is a little bit of illicit language in my writing. I am going to take the rest of this blog to explain to you all where I am at with swearing in my life.

First of all, swear words are defined by culture. Shit is crap and crap is shit, so why do we shun one and not the other? In twenty years it might be the other way around, who knows? It doesn’t seem logical to use something so transient to measure the character of a person.

Here is my next point. We use language to express ourselves. So seeing that there is a wide spectrum of emotion, should there not also be a wide spectrum for announcing that emotion? Of course there should be. This is why words have differing degrees of intensity. You can loathe something, you can hate something, you can have distaste for something, you can be ok with something, you can like something, you can love something, you can adore something. This spectrum of intensity allows us to more accurately express our feelings.

Ouch!...Wow, that hurt!...Dammit to hell!...Son of a Bitch!...Shit!

This is a small excerpt from the spectrum of words and phrases used to announce pain.
And I'm sorry, but anybody who has ever stood up from bending over to make a peanut butter sandwich on the counter and hit the back of their head on the corner of the open cupboard door above them knows that "ouchies!" just doesn't get the job done.

I don’t like Wendys, I love Wendys. It didn't hurt bad, it hurt damn bad. I'm not just upset, I'm mad as hell. If we can't accurately describe our feelings, then why try to communicate at all. Don't confuse potency with immorality.

This line of reasoning leads me to a crucial point.

I had a friend who had recently gotten a job. Her job required her to work long and stressful hours. After working there for a few weeks she showed up at my door. She came in and we started to talk about the usual stuff; lame movies we had seen, people we had mocked, and gross dates that she had been on. Then her new job came up in the conversation. She hadn't said three words about it before her eyes started to water and her voice started to tremble. She began to tell me that she didn't feel like she could take the stress of it anymore, but that she felt obligated to keep the job because she needed the money so badly.

I being the Christian that I am, immediately stood up, walked over to my front door, opened it up and told her to get out of my house until she could get herself together and behave appropriately.

You should know by now that this story is a lie. Your first hint should have been the line “I had a friend….” The next clue was that the friend was a girl. And the final give away is that she not only was talking to me in my house, but that she actually knew where my house was in the first place. I digress. Back to the topic.

All of us have a need to express ourselves, and as I have said, words can help us do this. But sometimes our emotions get so intense that normal words and conversations are not sufficient to communicate what we feel. This is why it feels so good to laugh at a funny joke, to scream at a rock concert, or to cry at funeral.

Here's the catch though, we all react to stress in different ways. Usually for girls, a good cry after a heart wrenching breakup can do allot to help them cope. But I'm not a girl. I don't cry...usually. But seriously though, when I get frustrated with jobs, or relationships, or school I don't cry, I can't. What I can do is swear.

The other day I went to a party. I ended up leaving very soon into it because I was becoming frustrated. It might have been the D-bags who pulled up in their new Mustang. It might have been the cute girl who I knew not to waste my time with. It might have been the flavor of dip. I don't know exactly what it was, but I know that I left feeling very frustrated and discouraged. I got into my pickup truck, turned on my rock music, and drove home. I walked into my house, sat down on the couch and a started complaining about life to my brother, and you can bet, that there were plenty of swear words. After a few minutes, I felt better. Whatever it was that made me feel like crap, I was over it.

All I needed was a good cry, Dallin style.

Would you deprive me of expression? Would you stand up, go over and open your front door, and tell me to leave and not come back until I could behave appropriately. I would hope not.

The feeling of discomfort that comes when somebody is swearing is the same as the feeling when somebody starts to cry. It’s a little bit awkward to be with somebody who is feeling and expressing emotions that you don't share. The solution to the problem is not condescension and lecturing. The solution is usually to keep your mouth shut until the person is done.

Now, you may be thinking “Well Dallin, How do you justify swearing in your blog and/or jokes? Are you angry when you are joking around? How is this possible?"

One of the reasons I write my blog is to be funny. And what is funny? Extremes are funny. Extreme situations, extreme ideas, extreme emotions.

Look at comedians. They are very exaggerated and over the top. Will Ferrell, Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, Chris Farley.

Look at Movies. Pineapple Express, Anchorman, Super Bad, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Step Brothers. All these great movies are extreme situations with extreme characters.

Everyday life is boring. That’s why we have comedy, to escape from the mundane and normal circumstances and create something vibrant and colorful. Something that creates an emotion in us so big that it can't be expressed with a "wow that was funny" or a simple smile. Something that makes us laugh.

And so to mimic the extremes, I profane, because profanity is extreme.

I do not feel that swearing is 100 percent ok to do, but it's not nearly as big of a deal as we make it out to be. If I went to ward prayer and dropped an F-bomb, I would be eternally labeled as a bad person, and that isn't fair.

It’s just a word, lighten up.

Land of the free?

2009-08-03T09:05:00.000-07:00

This is a safe place. I don't think anybody that I work with knows about it.

I'm seriously considering quitting my job and moving back to Washington for the remainder of the summer. This must have been what it felt like for the slaves when they began to consider the Underground Railroad as an option.

Just moments ago, when I started typing this little blog, I thought it was going to be a quickie. I was just going to say that I wanted to quit my job and that was it.

But then I typed that line about slaves....I have a question.

At what point does a slave become an employee, and an employee a slave? What is the difference between the two? I would argue that there really is none.

The slaves were taken care of by their masters. They were given food, water, shelter, and clothing. Depending on their respective master; they received better or worse living conditions, but that is no different than it is now. Wages vary from job to job, and one's wage determines one's quality of life.

Sure, we're not beaten with a whip when we don't obey, but we are punished. The other day my employer took me and my coworkers into her office/dining room and gave us a two hour lecture on how we weren't working hard enough and that she wasn't making enough money. She told us that we were on the edge of being fired. She all but accused us of stealing from the company and lectured us about how we need to be honest with our hours.

I feel confident that I was being perfectly honest in every way...I wonder if she felt the same way about herself?

Why do I only make eight dollars and fifty cents off of each hour that I work when the customer is being charged 4 times that?

As soon as an employer is making more money off of the labor than the laborer is, I think there might be a problem.

Why is it that on Sunday, we can say that we are all equal and of infinite worth, but then on Monday, divvy up wages?

The Lord’s Kingdom does not function this way. We know from the scriptures that we are unprofitable servants. The Lord invests in us every day, and he has never once come out in the black. How many times have I decided to willingly disobey his commandments, and yet the next day I was not fired from life. I was still being paid in air to breathe, and working lungs to breathe it. I still had my agency. I still had my family and all the other comforts that I have enjoyed my entire life. This is because The Lord is not trying to make me a slave; he is trying to make me a partner.

His company was created for the employee, and not the employee for the company.

So knowing all these things, why do we not model our own businesses after His? I believe there are 3 reasons.

First; pride. If feels good to be in control and on top.

Second; laziness. When The Lord said that the idler shall not eat the fruit of the laborer, he wasn’t talking about the beggar. He was talking about the employer who sits in her air conditioned house, living off of the labor of the starving college students out painting fences!

Isn’t it interesting that in the allegory of the olive tree, the master was laboring alongside the servant? Yet another aspect of His business model.

Third; fear. I think that we lack the faith to do what is right. We need to remember that it is not a fat wallet and a good credit score that provide safety, food, and health. God provides these things. We need to stop looking to the golden calf for protection and start relying on the promise found in the scriptures: “inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments, ye shall prosper in the land.”

Do we believe that He sent down manna from heaven? Do we believe that He calmed the waters and fed the five thousand? Did He really cause the lame to stand and the blind to see? Can he still?

When I graduate and go out and start my own engineering firm, I hope that I have the courage to be honest with my employees. I hope that my goal will not be to help myself, but instead to help those working for me. I hope that I will be running a charity rather than a business.

I don’t know if I am going to quit my job, going on rants like this always makes me feel a little bit better though.

Things I will never do again.

2009-07-24T22:23:00.000-07:00

Number 1: Go to a rodeo.

Not a huge fan of country music. Not a huge fan of blind patriotism. Not a huge fan of horses or of their shit. Not a huge fan of crowded wooden bleachers. Not a huge fan of Spanish Fork High School cheerleaders wearing tight little tank-tops selling cotton candy, oh wait...whatever. Not a huge fan of dust in my face. Not a huge fan of an announcer with a fake Texas accent which at one point sounded Australian. Not a huge fan of clowns or their stupid jokes. Not a huge fan of really gross boobs with tattoos (tit-tats). Not a huge fan of subjectively judged "sports." Not a huge fan of sports at all really. Not a huge fan of Dodge trucks. Not a huge fan of the dust and mud, of the guts and blood, or the roar of the Sunday crowd. Nor the white in the knuckles and the gold in the buckle that they'll win in the next go around. Not a huge fan of boots and chaps or cowboys hats, or the spurs and the latigos. Nor the ropes and the reins. Nor the joy and the pain. I hate that damn rodeo!

I don't know why it took me so long to learn this lesson, but I think I got it down. The next time somebody invites you to a rodeo, just say no. None of the 3 hot girls in the stadium are going to sit next to you. Just accept that and go on living your life.

While I shall never attend another rodeo as long as I live, I will say that there is one part of the rodeo that I really do enjoy.

I'm sure you're all thinking "it's gotta be either barrel racing or bull riding."

I hate barrel racing almost as much as I hate the smell of curry in the morning.

But your second guess, bull riding, was close. I can't say that it is the actually riding of the bull that excites me, but it sends a shiver up my spine when the bull finally gets that damn cowboy off his back and then starts looking for something that it can just beat the living hell out of.

Never at any other point in my life have I ever felt so close and at one with another living creature. I know what that bull is going through. I know what it is feeling inside.

You see, the bulls are different from the other animals at the rodeo. With the bucking broncos, as soon as the rodeo cronies get that strap off of the horse, everything is fine. The horse just goes back to its stall, has some hay, takes a nap and gets ready for the next retard to saddle up. But the bull is different.

Sure, the strap is annoying and painful and it doesn't like it one bit. But it's not about just coasting through life and letting people ride you. That bull wants revenge! It wants the blood of the little son of bitch that put that strap on him! That bull knows that he was being challenged by that cowboy on his back, and he isn't just gonna let it fly.

I think it is truly rare to see such human behavior, even revenge, in an animal. So scary, so noble. Truly awesome.

Allow me to express my feelings about this in another way. If I were to someday get into the air force and become a fighter pilot, and then get to go to a high profile, high intensity air combat and maneuvering school because the number one guy in my division who was supposed to go started holding on too tight and ended up turning in his wings, and then if I ended up killing my best friend, sleeping with an ugly 80's chick and coming to know the truth behind my father's past, my call sign would be "The Bull."

Baaoow baaoow baaoow baow baow baow baow baow baow...

Number 2: Try to type the Top Gun theme song.

"Only in dreams"

2009-07-19T20:09:00.001-07:00

This week I watched the whole second season of 30 Rock on DVD. My crush on Elizabeth Stamatina "Tina" Fey is stronger than ever. Had she been born 15 years later into a conservative Mormon home in Port Angeles Washington...my life would probably not be much different than it is now, but woo-wee is it fun to speculate.

I watched some of the bonus features on the DVD. One of them was all the characters from the show sitting around a table reading the script for one of the episodes. I realized that I would be happy, or at least distracted, doing something like that. I'm really heavily considering dropping out of college and moving to California to start a stand up routine.

I lie.

But seriously though, all of these great comedians whom I so much admire, at some point had to make this seemingly irrational and unwise decision.

I sometimes wonder how many of them were like me. Did Will Ferrell ever expect himself to set the curve in a physics class? Was Seth Rogan ever terrified at the concept of going out on stage and hearing nothing but crickets? Did Jim Gaffigan ever doubt his ability to make a career out of a high pitched voice and some Wendys jokes?

I don't know the answers to these questions, but here is what I do know.

I don't feel like I fit in with most people I meet. I feel like I am much more concerned with making a joke than becoming acquainted with those around me. I'm not sure why this is, but I have learned that when in a conversation, I have to be either arguing or joking. Small talk bores me. I genuinely do not give one shit about people’s everyday lives. I need sarcasm, debate, wit, and high volume levels to keep myself entertained by a conversation.

I am positive that this is one of the reasons I have trouble with girls. I get on the first date and the first thing I do is make an ass of myself with a light-minded comment. The next thing I do is ruin any and all trust with a sarcastic comment. This sort of thing continues for the remainder of the night. By the time I drop her off, my chances are shot. Not only does she not take me seriously enough to get into an emotional relationship with me, but she doesn't feel safe enough either, for fear that any emotional topic is going to be mocked.

I'm not saying that this is my only problem with girls, I'm sure my face doesn't help the situation either, but this is definitely an issue. Anytime I try to be "normal", or "nice", or "cool" I just end up getting bored. This causes me to withdraw from the conversation/date and find entertainment in my food.

As I have expressed in earlier blogs, Disney movies have placed me in a false reality. The scene in Aladdin when the Genie is a honey bee and Aladdin is about to talk to Jasmine is misinforming. What Genie really needed to whisper in Aladdin's ear was "and remember, don't beeee yourself."

Ha-Ha, sorry, this blog was meant to be me expressing my feelings about chasing my dreams, not girls and dating. Let’s get back on topic.

Another thing I know about myself is that I enjoy making people laugh. Allow me to brag for a moment. I remember one time in high school I was sitting around with some friends before class got started. I was joking around about girl problems (it been a reoccurring theme in my life). This little "stand up" session continued at low volumes until class was over. By the time we got up to leave, my friends were rubbing their faces because their cheek muscles wear hurting from laughing so much during class. It was one of the best days of my young life. I've rarely been so flattered. Also, since the entire hour was spent mocking myself, I've rarely been so depressed. Oh well, just another bitter-sweet symphony I suppose.

About two months ago, I was driving my parents Toyota Camry up to Washington for them. I was making the trip alone. There was about a two hour stretch of freeway that I spent talking to myself out loud. I thought it was pretty funny stuff. Some of what I was saying came from previous conversations I had had with myself. As for the new stuff, I don't know where it came from; it just pops into my mind as I talk to myself. Nothing like that really happens to me with anything related to mechanical engineering. I mean, I am never just sitting there, and all of the sudden think of a better way to design a folding chair or a windmill. Who knows, maybe it will someday.

Anyway, thanks for being a sounding board for me here today. Let me pre-emptively answer all the comments saying things like "why don't you just become a comic already!?" or "Why don't you just write your friggen screenplay already!?"

Because I'm afraid!
Because I'm not sure if I am allowed to!
Because I'm not sure if I want to!
Because I'm not sure if I am able to!
Because I'm Lazy!
Because I’d rather have Tina Fey come across my blog one day, read it, and ask me to be a writer for her show!

Anyway, have a good week everybody.

The Fasche ( fey - sh )

2009-07-17T10:22:00.000-07:00

The first time I was introduced to Facebook, it looked to me to be completely useless. Over the years, as I became involved with the notorious above mentioned, my views evolved and changed repeatedly. There were times that I felt that it was a good time and a fun website. There were other times when I felt that it was a handy social networking tool that could rocket me into a world of acceptance. I'm proud to say that I have come full circle and have realized that it is truly worthless. Allow me to explain what I'm sure all of you already understand.

First of all, I feel that the entire concept of friendship, let alone online friendship is very debatable in the first place. But I suppose that this depends on how you define friendship.

If friendship is nothing more than compatibility, similar senses of humor and the same favorite restaurant, than perhaps it really does exist. While I think that these things are important and helpful in the development of a friendship, I would say that a true friend is someone who's comfort and happiness is just as important to you as your own comfort and happiness. A willingness to sacrifice one's self is essential. Without this there is no friendship. There is only a demeaning baseball card trading game, where we all try to get the coolest, the rarest and the most self-beneficial.

I think to myself; "How many people do I know whose comfort comes before my own?"

Not 211, that’s for sure. And 211 is a relatively low friend count for the fasche. There are many people with literally thousands of friends. This boggles my mind.

Here's my next problem with Facebook. Its a tool that we try and use for communication that simply doesn't work.

I used to feel as though I had a pretty good understanding of what people's words and actions were communicating to me. I have since learned that I am more lost the Helen Keller in a snow storm when it comes to social affairs. I think most of us are in a similar boat.

So communication is already pretty tricky business. Now take away facial expressions, body language, tonal inflections and timely responses and what do you have? A Facebook wall post and a misunderstanding. Have you ever, for example, tried to communicate sarcasm in writing? I don't think its possible, not even with the help of emoticons.

Next on the list. For every wanted notification you get on Facialbook, you get about 10 disappointments. How many times have I seen that little red flag at the bottom of the screen only to learn that The Office has come out with a new trivia challenge, or that 9 of my friends have added the "we're related" application? Talk about a disappointment. Like a man who in a dream drinketh, but in the morning he wakes and is yet athirst, I come away empty.

But what am I really expecting to happen? Is there someday going to be a wall post from some beautiful and conflicted girl, who I have never before met, asking me to meet her at Yo-zone at 7:30? Am I going to get home from work one day, get on the internet to check my Facebook and find a message telling me I've won a million dollars? Even 10 dollars? No! Of course not! These things just don't happen, at least not to me.

My next and final written complaint against Facebook is about the status updates. Sometimes I would really like to let people know how I am feeling. Truly, I would. But every time I get on Facebook and start to put a new status up, I feel that it is a futile effort of expression.

New statuses are such commonplace on Facebook that it has almost completely lost whatever realness it ever had. I think to myself "are people going to read this status update and really care and believe that I feel the way I am indicating? Or is this just another silly little line on their home page?"

It almost feels like casting pearls before swine...only the pearls are negative and creepy and the swine are just an unconcerned audience.

So as a re-cap; Friendship might not exist at all. Communication is hard enough in person. Why build up hopes only to shatter them into a million pieces? And why update a person about something they don't care about? I submit these arguments to an impartial jury. Let Facebook be judged according to your own dictates.

Does this blog mean I am going to delete my Facebook account? Of course not. Just because a heroin addict knows that what he is doing is stupid, doesn't mean he can put down the needle.

Men have relocated to Venus and left Mars for the uglies

2009-07-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

To all you women out there asking the question along with Paula Cole, "Where have all the cowboys gone?" let me tell you.

Many of them left. Some followed the cowgirls, to wherever they went. Others were driven out by women's rights activists (save that topic for another day). As for the rest of them, they sold their spurs and chaps and bought Lacoste shoes and Abercrombie cologne. They mortgaged their farms, burnt down there barns and moved to wallstreet. They stopped putting on work gloves and started putting on melon cucumber scented hand lotion.

I don't know when or why it happened exactly, but I know it happened. I mean, maybe it is just down here in Utah, but I feel like I am living in some sort of parallel universe. All growing up I watched Disney movies where the guys that got the girls sang songs about how "every last inch of them is covered in hair" and that they could take on "one hundred bad guys with swords." The heros were always large, barrel chested, horse back riding tough guys.

But that isn't what we want anymore, oh no. You show up to family home evening with a little bit of grease on your hands, you're gross. You show up to the pool party with a farmers tan, you're gross. You shake a girls hand and you have a few calluses and imperfect cuticles, you're gross.

Well let me tell you what ladies, a greasy hand sure is nice when the car won't start. A farmers tan sure is handy when there's a lawn to be mowed. A callused hand sure is useful when you want to move that entertainment center.

I walk through campus and all I see is a bunch of buttless hair-dos walking around with tanned biceps and really great smiles texting on their cherry red cell phones.

Its like I've shown up to a church dance in a white shirt and tie and everybody else is wearing jeans and polos. Well crap, Nobody told me it was casual dress.

Oh well, just don't come running to me when you can't get that jar of Mayo open, I don't want to hear it. Guys like me are a whole lot more that just funny dudes who are handy to have around from time to time, A clown holding a Leatherman fits that description. We are the very backbone of society....that might be an over-statement.

I'm not gonna lie, one of the reasons I typed up this little blog was so that I could use that line about a clown holding a Leatherman. It came to me the other day and I was quite pleased with it. Also, this stuff has been on my chest for a while so it felt good to get it out there. Sorry if it came off as a little bit whiny or bitter, I will work on enjoying not having my expectations met. Ha-Ha....groan. Thanks for reading.

All by myself, don't want to be, all by myself, anymore.

2009-07-08T18:41:00.000-07:00

I went up to Washington this weekend. It was a fairly routine stay. I relaxed, had a few tacos, lost a couple pairs of socks, and all the other standard activities of visiting home. But the difference between this trip and all the rest is that this time, for the first time in a long time, I was going to head back to Utah alone.

For those of you who haven't heard, Brigham has moved on to greener pastures up in the sunny state of Washington. While to all of you reading this, this might seem like just another move of just another dude, it is actually a pretty significant change for me in my life.

Me and Brigham have been pretty close for the past three plus years down here in Jesusland. We've lived in the same house and room for a good majority of the time that we have both been down here.

Since I've been down in Utah, I've only been on about 10 dates, and I don't think Brigham has too many more than that either. That leaves the rest of the weekends open for Beto's, movies, and guitar jam sessions with Brigham. I can definitely say that the past three and a half years would have been a lot emptier and lonelier had Brigham not been here.

I wanted to take this as an opportunity to talk a little about Brigham and how I feel about him. If there is anybody reading this that has a problem with Brigham and finds him repulsive, you should probably stop reading. I doubt that there is anyone that feels this way.

Brigham is amazing to me in many ways. He is probably the most competent person that I know. Anytime at work or anywhere else when something breaks down or an accident happens or something just needs to be fixed, I often think to myself "If Brigham were here, he would be able to fix this." After I think that, I usually try and fix it myself. Half the time I can usually get things going, the rest of the time, I usually get so frustrated that what once might have been fixable is now nothing more than a greasy pile of nuts, bolts and broken plastic. Oh well.

Brigham has an intellectual capability that surpasses anyone I have ever known. From Biology to the names of all of my great aunts and uncles, Brigham seems to know it all. Its almost like anything he hears is recorded in his mind for later use, never to be forgotten. And even more amazing is his ability to reason. Any conversation about any topic with Brigham will be full of insight and astute observation. After talking with him, you will come away with a better understanding and maybe even a new opinion.

Brigham is a person who is full of compassion and desire to help others. All you have to do is let him know what you need help doing. As soon as you do this, you will find yourself watching him do the job that you needed only help with.

As I have seen him sacrifice himself for his friends, I have been amazed. Whether it has been his time, money or energy, he has been willing to give to those around him until he almost didn't have enough for himself. He has been a true example of charity.

I think that Brigham is the type of person who can only exist through adversity. Attributes like those of Brigham's cannot be developed while sitting in an Escalade or relaxing on a cruise.

As I have lived with Brigham, I have seen his life unfold. Not only here in Utah, but even before I went on my mission, I have seen what I can only described as a long chain of calculated ironies and regularly occurring setbacks. Whether it is a bad engine or bad weather, his plane just can't seem to get off the ground.

This must be the cause of Brigham’s depth of character. It was no doubt a long and hard path to get to where he is, but I am thankful that Brigham has travelled it and developed into such a good example to me.

Concerning all the setbacks that he has experienced, I can only say that all the girls who rejected him, the dental schools that sent him away, the men and women who have unjustly judged and penalized him, and the rest of the people who have taken advantage of him, could not have known who they were dealing with. They must not have understood the caliber of the man in front of them. Had they known what I know, they could not have done what they did.

To sum it all up, if there were a group of men, who had the dangerous task presented to them to destroy a small piece of jewelry in a treacherous and fiery volcano; Brigham would no doubt be the ring bearer.

I of course would be Sam....or maybe an eagle....one of those two.

I think that both Brigham and I will benefit from this new situation. We will be forced to go out and meet new people. We won't be able to feed off of each other's cynicism as much anymore. It will be good. Nonetheless, Brigham, I am going to miss you being down here. I am gonna miss the late night food runs, and all the laughs. I remember one time we were driving in the car, and we started to joke about running ourselves into a tree (it was quite jovial, I assure you). After a few minutes of joking, you said "whatever, I had better not do anything like that. With my luck, I would survive the crash, left only with my sense of smell and the ability to shit."

I'm not sure if it was just because I was so tired or whatever, but I have never laughed so hard in my life. After about 15 minutes, any time spent not laughing, was spent groaning in pain. My back was sore the next morning.

Thanks for writing that really nice blog about me. I hope that you posting it won’t shed a poor light on the authenticity and genuineness of this post. I actually had this blog all typed up before I was aware of "bromosexuality." I guess after reading what you wrote, it motivated me to post what I wrote. Once again, you are the example. Good luck in Washington. I love you too.

"You know the Nazis had pieces of flair they made the Jews wear?!" -Office Space

2009-06-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

Last year around this time I typed up a blog about my feelings in regards to The Pledge of Allegiance. After finishing up the editing process, I read it to my mom. A loud and lengthy argument followed. After the argument was over, I decided that the world might not yet be ready for what I had typed up and so I decided not to post my little essay.

But now, with the Fourth of July fast approaching, I think it is time to get this stuff out there.

Before I begin, a funny and somewhat disturbing story. A few weeks ago I was at home in Washington. My 7 year old little sister was sitting in the living room drawing a picture and talking and talking and talking. Eventually she ran out of things to say and stories to tell and so she started to sing songs that she had learned in school. The song that she started to sing was "It's a Grand Old Flag." I asked her where she learned this. She said "at school." Then I said something about how it's not as grand as we make it out to be or something like that. To this she replied "You just don't like America."

Ha-Ha! Zinger!

I laughed and then proceeded to get in yet another argument with my parents about the Stars and Stripes. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about America, but I know how I feel about freedom. So if any of you get done reading this and feel the need to scorn me with a comment about how I don't appreciate the freedoms that I have, just don't bother. I don't want or need to hear it.

My first qualm with the pledge is the manner in which it is implemented into our lives. We take small children, who know nothing of history, politics and economies. We line them up with their peers and make them recite a poem that aggrandizes their nation and describes it as something that it simply isn't, at least not anymore. Then we tell them that if they refuse to recite the poem, they will get in trouble. This is something that we do every weekday morning until these children are well into their teenage years.

I see this and it is actually quite infuriating. To take someone and sway them so strongly at such a young age is not fair. Why not let these children form their own opinions about The United States? If we are such a great, justified, and noble nation, won’t these kids realize this as they grow up?

Here’s a scenario. What if there was a poem that was anti-American that children were being forced to repeat every morning. There are plenty of things it could talk about. It could talk about presidential scandals. It could talk about leveling entire cities with nuclear explosions. It could talk about the persecution of religions and federally enforced genocides. It could talk about conspiracy. It could talk about a lot of very true and historical things. Would parents not be alarmed? Of course they would. It would not be fair to so strongly bias a child. What good is agency if you are too prejudiced to make an informed decision?

The next problem I have is that the pledge itself is nothing but a long string of half truths and subjective assumptions. Let’s go through it line by line.

I pledge allegiance to the flag, of The United States of America…

When we say this, do we realize what we are saying? What does it mean to "pledge allegiance"? When I think of what that means, I think of complete dedication. Essentially what I am saying is that America has my gun, my money, even my life, if it needs it.

I think to myself, "is that really how I feel?" No, of course not. There are certain lines that if America were to cross, I would have to refuse to participate. What if tomorrow morning there was a police officer outside my door telling me that the Mormon extermination order had been reinstated and that all healthy males were being required to kill any Mormon on sight? Would The United States have my allegiance then? Of course not. This is an extreme example, but there is an entire spectrum of actions and policies that our country could and does take that run contrary to my morals and beliefs. And as soon as I am asked to support those policies, I will refuse. And so I don’t pledge my allegiance to this country because to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t have it.

Also, I can give my full allegiance to only one entity. So if the US has my allegiance, where does that leave God’s kingdom? Where does that leave me?

…And to the republic for which it stands…

Are we really a republic? I would say that we look much more like an aristocracy than a republic. If you don’t agree with this, check out how much money President Obama spent on his campaign. We don’t elect the most moral, we elect the richest.

...One nation under God...

This perhaps is the most insulting line of all. It reminds me of country music stars who sing about religion just to pull heart strings and make more record sales.

To claim that we are under God or that He rules and supports this nation is nothing short of blasphemy. How many airplanes with American flags painted on the sides have dropped bombs on innocent women and children? How many people are there within the borders of our own nation that we let starve and freeze to death every year? How often does congress really supplicate to God, seeking out His will and recognizing their complete dependence on His goodness to survive each day? How straightforward and outright is our media in their attempts to mock God and His laws? We do not believe that we are under God, we believe that we are above him.

Many people would argue that the pledge is good because it is one of the only times that little children hear of God. While I recognize the importance of teaching little children about God, I do not feel that any and all exposure to His name is good and productive. Children need to learn about the true nature of their Father in Heaven. All we are doing by making them say His name in the pledge's context is giving unauthorized mortals the power to define who He is and what He does - even what His political agendas are. This doesn't seem right.

…Indivisible…

I remember learning in social studies about caste systems back in Europe during the renaissance. I remember thinking that it seemed very unfair that your future was predetermined by the household that you were born into. I remember feeling thankful that we don’t live in a caste system. I was a young and stupid child.

The caste system is still alive and well here, it’s just a little harder to recognize. We are put into castes by race, economic standing, chances for learning, and family lineage. If you don’t agree, go down to your local Carl’s Jr. and look and see how many minorities are working there. Mine is literally one hundred percent Hispanic. Go up to a wealthy neighborhood and see how many of those people don’t come from rich parents or aren’t college graduates. There will not be many.

How can we claim that two people, one rich and the other poor, are unified? What if when I was growing up, every night my mother had set a New York steak in front of my brother and given me a peanut butter sandwich? How long would it be before there were some serious rifts between my brother and I? We would not be united, we would be in competition. The Lord's way is not communism, it's not socialism, and I'm sorry, it's not even our beloved capatilism. He revealed the concept of Zion. But sharing is hard, isn't it?

…with liberty and justice for all.

HAHA! With liberty and justice for those who can afford it! As I have observed the criminal "justice" system, I have learned that it is nothing but a giant bureaucracy trying to make as much money as it possibly can. As I have sat in court rooms and seen the people there I've noticed that the great majority of them are already struggling to survive financially. It has sickened me to see how much everything is run by the filthy dollar. Liberty and justice have been supplanted by savvy economics and merciless bottom lines.

My next problem is the misconception of where the pledge comes from. I think that we have all grown too attached to The Pledge of Allegiance. I get the feeling that a lot of us rank its importance and historical significance up there with inspired documents like The Constitution and The Declaration of Independence. The Pledge of Allegiance was written in 1892 by Francis Bellamy, a Baptist minister. It was written for the popular children’s magazine, “The Youth’s Companion.”

Stupid.

We’ve essentially turned a nursery rhyme into scripture.

Again, stupid.

I consider myself a big fan of freedom. I have a great deal of respect and appreciation for the founding fathers and what they did. When I read and learn about the events that transpired in the forming of this nation and its government, I am filled with awe and gratitude toward God. It was a miracle.

Depending on your definition of "American", I am as American as they come. I do not however, support The Pledge of Allegiance and its implementation. I think it should be done away with. Perhaps when recited by an adult, who has the ability and the information to recognize that this country is not what it used to be, it is harmless. When recited in the mindset of pledging one's allegiance to the republic for which the flag stood, it might even be encouraging to the cause of freedom. But when said by a small child with hand over heart, it is prejudicial. It makes the United States seem infallible.

My entire life I grew up assuming that the US was out on God’s errand to rid the world of evil. But then I had the opportunity to live outside of the United States for a time. I saw how another country felt about the United States. We need to realize that we are just another nation of the earth. We have no divine mandate or authority to stick our dirty hands into our neighbors business. While perhaps the land might be promised, the people living outside of it are just as loved and appreciated by God as the people living within it. Remember that God's promises are always predicated on our obedience.

Just today as I was driving to work I saw a bumper sticker that said “God bless Japan.” What a foreign idea! How often do we hear anything like that? Often our plea is not only “God bless America”, but “God bless America, and nobody else.” It is important to realize that God has no nationality.

While I do believe that this country was divinely instituted and established as a setting for the restoration of the gospel, I must also acknowledge that it's laws and leaders did nearly everything within their power to stop that Restoration.

I pledge my allegiance to God. I pledge my allegiance to humanity. I pledge my allegiance to freedom. But I do not, under any circumstances, pledge my allegiance to a flag. This is my position with the pledge and it is right.

While in the fourth grade, I wrote a small, one page essay on the flag and what it stood for. I think I said the red was for the blood spilt for freedom, the blue was for the loyalty of the people, and the white was for the purity of the leaders. I was presented with a small medal in a school assembly for writing the best essay of the fourth grade. Haha, talk about ten thousand spoons when all you really need is a knife.

I don't think I will be getting any medals for this blog, but I do feel that I have come much closer to the truth.

Screenplay in Embryo

2009-06-28T17:37:00.000-07:00

Well here I am sitting on my couch with nothing to do except type up a little blog. I’ve been thinking about writing a screen play for a while. Maybe I will take this opportunity to share with all of you some of my ideas. This would be the opening scene:

It would start out with the main character sitting at a bus stop. He has his headphones in, sort of tapping his foot, looking at the ground. Then a cute girl walks up and sits down on the same bench. The boy notices her and wants to say something, so he starts to think of a good conversation starter. He sees a ski lift pass hanging from her coat. He looks at her glasses and thinks they are cool. Then he sees her reach into her pocket and pull out a pack of sweet mint orbit gum. She opens the packet only to find that she is all out. The boy realizes that he has this same kind of gum in his pocket. He decides to go with this option and reaches for the gum.

He hesitates making his move and while he is waiting the girl’s phone rings. She picks up and has a conversation that goes something like this:

Hey how are you?!

I know, I’m on my way to class right now, waiting for the bus.
Haha, what?

Oh, haha, yeah, I had a really great time too.

Um, yeah, that sounds great.

Ok, see you tonight!

Bye.

The boy is discouraged and abandons the gum idea. As he sits there in the after math you can tell he is upset. His bus comes; he stands up and walks over to the bus.

As he is walking, he briefly pauses in front of the girl, looks down at her and calmly says,

"It was nice to meet you"

He then gets on the bus, rolling his eyes as he goes.

End of scene

I think that it would be a lot of fun to write a screen play about myself, but I don’t really know what the story line would be. I don't really want to write a boy meets girl romantic comedy because I’m not sure whether or not I believe in love. I’ve thought about using some sort of criminal story line, where the main character gets in trouble with the law for something that gets blown out of proportion because of his wild and out of control friend. We’ll see if that goes anywhere.

I also would like to try and communicate some sort of point with my screen play. Send some sort of message. Like maybe express my views about how stupid the dating game that we play is.

One thing that I know for sure is that I don't want any Mormon specific comedy in it.

The antagonist of the movie would of course be written for and played by an Indian. This would be a trademark of all my movies, Indian bad guys. And we are of course talking about the evil kind of Indian as opposed to the Native American Indians.

I would like to develop the main character to be a frustrated but likeable young man. For example, one scene that I would like to develop is for the main character to be in some sort of grocery store. He would be looking for a certain canned food product and they wouldn't have it. He would be doing this after a frustrating day at school or work. When he realized that they didn't have it, he would sigh in frustration and in a slow and smooth motion, deliberatly knock 10 or 12 cans off the shelf. He would then look at what he had done for a moment and then laugh at himself. Then he would go and tell his brother who he was shopping with about it and laugh at himself again. Then they would leave. This would be a true story.

Two summers ago I had a job for Dish Network installing satellite dishes for people (probably some of my darkest days). I've thought about incorporating a scene or two about this job into my screenplay as well. I would like to put in some real stuff and some made up stuff.

I would really like to ridicule my boss, seeing that he caused me so much agony and all. You see, I wasn’t a very good satellite installer and so there were a lot of complaints and what not. These complaints would go to the office, then the office would call me and start hounding me about them, so eventually, I just stopped picking up the phone. After a while, my boss started to call me and leave me messages telling me to answer when the office called me. Anyway, any time this subject came up with my boss, he would almost inevitably end the conversation with the line "ya better start answering your phone or I’m gonna chop off your huevos (my "eggs" or balls). So ever since he started saying that, any time me and Brigham talk about that satellite job, one of us will inevitably mock him by saying with a thick southern accent "your brother better start answerin' his phone or else I’m gonna chop off his huevos and stick 'em in my mouth."

Anyway, that might not sound like it will be very funny, but I think that Matt Damon will be able to add a lot to the scene.

A fake scenario that me and Brigham have brainstormed is for the main character to be up in some guys ceiling with a bunch of that spray insulation trying to run some cables. It would be hot and miserable (because that is how it was). Then a bat would fly up out of the corner and land on the dude’s shirt or something. This would scare the installer, causing him to lose his balance, fall off of the wooden ceiling truss and come crashing down through the sheetrock. He would get up, frantically brushing himself off only to see the home owner standing there watching it all. Then he would very angrily exclaim "There’s a f#?@ing bat up there!" He would then storm out, get in his truck, slam the door, punch the steering wheel, and then maybe break down and cry.

Those are some of the ideas that I have. I think that with some fine tuning I could really make an high quality offensive movie. Even if it wasn’t that good, it would still be cool to be able to say that I wrote a screen play while I was in college. Then I could even act it all out. It would be a lot of fun.

Part of the reason I wrote this blog about this subject was because I felt that it is some pretty light reading. My last blog was a little bit more serious than some of my other blogs, and my next one is gonna be very similar, it’s about the pledge of allegiance. So I decided that I would put this lighter one in between, just to mix things up.

To finish, just let me say that if any of you steal any of these ideas for any reason, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.

"People should not fear their governments, governments should fear their people."

2009-06-18T18:02:00.000-07:00

I remember one time when I was young, probably 9 or 10, I was sitting on the couch and I decided that it was time for me to clean my room. Now before you think to yourself “wow, what a self motivated little boy Dallin was,” realize that my room had probably been a complete filth hole for a few weeks. You would have had to go pretty far to find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, maybe even to another galaxy, far far away.

Anyway, so there I went, fully aware of all the apple cores, dirty underwear, tangled video game controllers and old homework assignments that lay in wait for me, but I could not be deterred. I was a man on a mission, success was in my grasp...but then, as I was making the turn to go down the hallway, a voice came from behind, clear and piercing, commanding me to go clean my room. It was my older sister, Camilla. I stopped in my tracks, almost instinctually, turned around and reclaimed my position on the couch.

At the time, I didn’t think much about the experience, all I knew is that I wasn’t gonna be told what to do.

This story has brought me to the doorstep of the real subject matter of this blog. It is human nature to not want to be told what to do. We all want to be free to choose and are born with that right. In contrast to this however, life is much better when there are rules that put constraints on behavior. So how do we reconcile these two realities? When does a rule become overbearing and invasive? Where is the line that distinguishes order from tyranny? What makes a just law? What is the role of Government?

And now for a history rant. For those of you who have no problems with the government and wish only for it to take a more active role in your lives, stop reading. But for the rest of you, full of frustration, I hope this helps you get some of you wiggles out like it did for me.

Great men like Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and John Adams were faced with these same questions. They were confronted with the dilemma of forming a system of government that would promote freedom, without establishing a tyrant like the one from which they had just gotten out from under.

The political ideas of the founding fathers were heavily influenced by an essay entitled “The Second Treatise on Civil Government” written by John Locke in 1690. A few paragraphs from this treatise can offer a lot of insight into what the men that founded our government felt its purpose would be.

The 2nd treatise opens by explaining that when a man is born, he is born free, subject to obey nobody but himself and God.

The treatise then goes on to ask:

"IF man in the state of nature be so free, as has been said; if he be absolute lord of his own person and possessions, equal to the greatest, and subject to no body, why will he part with his freedom? Why will he give up this empire, and subject himself to the dominion and controul of any other power?"

Why would we elect to surrender our natural right to govern ourselves? Why would we give our personal sovereignty to another?

The treatise goes on to answer this question:

"...this state (of natural freedom) is very unsafe, very unsecure. This makes him willing to quit a condition, which, however free, is full of fears and continual dangers: and it is not without reason, that he seeks out, and is willing to join in society with others, who are already united, or have a mind to unite, for the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties and estates, which I call by the general name, property."

We join governed societies for the protection, and not the sacrifice, of our personal property, which includes our lives, liberties, and estates.

Thomas Jefferson emphasized this selfsame point in The Declaration of Independence when he wrote:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among men..."

These two documents clearly explain why this government was instituted. Little or no commentary is needed, not from Glenn Beck, not from anybody. I am now going to make a few comments.

Governments are not formed to protect us from ourselves. Governments are not formed to turn us into good people. Governments are not formed to manipulate economies. Governments are not formed to "make things fair."

Governments are formed to make us free.

They are formed so that we can go about our lives, and choose how we want to live them, so long as our choices don't impede those around us from living their lives.

While the ideas of personal property and the "self made man" are Godless and without substance, they are the best a group of good but fallen men could do for a fallen society. The only perfect system of government is the one that is full of charity and ruled over by God himself. Imagine that, all this time fighting for democracy, and what we really need is a monarchy.

The next time we are about to vote on a law, we need to think about what its purpose is. Some of the laws we have appear just and noble on the surface, but they go outside of the bounds of what this government was established to achieve, freedom.

For example...Seatbelts. My not wearing a seatbelt may be dangerous, stupid, naive, childish, idiotic, even suicidal, but it has nothing to do with my neighbor’s property.

Here’s one that I thought of just the other day. Windshields are required on cars. Why? I know it is a stupid law to question. Who wouldn't want a windshield on their car? I don't know, but if they don't want it, they shouldn't have to have it.

These are minor examples, but I think they illustrate the point. I think the bigger issues arise when we start to consider government’s role in the economy. We see our government thrusting its hands deeper and deeper into the economy under the completely false front of not only being capable of fixing things, but actually wanting to.

We need to realize that first; capitalism isn't a system that can provide a stable economy. Trying to fix capitalism is like trying to fix a tumor, it can’t be done, and the longer you leave it in, the worse it’s gonna get.

The next thing we need to realize is that George Washington is dead. We all think that the government is still our loyal and faithful seeker and protector of freedom. Pa-lease. Which history books have we all been reading. What governmental system in the history of mankind has ever been on the side of the people over which it ruled. The records are littered with stories of rich kings and impoverished societies, cruel dictators, horrible scenes of violence and immorality, scandals, lies, demagogues, torture, wars, and secrets. And now all of the sudden, we have unlocked the secret to the incorruptible government? No way. Those men on Capitol Hill are no more our friends than King George was to Thomas Jefferson. They will lead us down the path of captivity under the guise of patriotism until they own and control it all.

It isn’t the governments place to control the economy, only to maintain an environment that will allow the people to control the economy. If the rich want to let the poor starve, that is the right of the rich. Laws that control the rich only serve to deflate moral and incite hatred toward the poor. If we want a fixed economy, then we need to get over ourselves and live a higher law of charity. If we don’t want a fixed economy, then let’s just keep it up, and after we have made our beds, we will then lie in them. Either way, government has no say in the actual decision, it only needs to make us free enough to make it.

I don’t want to play the part of the anarchist and I don’t think that I am, but just let me say this, no civilization has ever fallen because of too few rules or too much freedom. Societies fail because of tyranny. While a kite needs a string to fly, a chain will only ruin the day at the park.

Laws are important, but just because we can make something a law, doesn’t mean we should. We need to analyze what purpose a law is serving, and if it is not solely for the protection of our lives, properties and estates from encroachment of others, we need to vote no.

To finish, a quote from Thomas Jefferson.

“Most bad government has grown out of too much government.”

I think I am going to go clean my room now.

Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition. Issue no. 3

2009-04-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

This will be the third issue of “Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition.” The confrontation that I want to talk about today has a very special place in my heart. It is of a nature so powerful and wonderful so as to cause me to wonder whether it is even appropriate to try to put into words. I dare say that, had any of you reading this been there when this most marvellous of confrontations occured, you would sooner be buried up under the mountains of the earth, than look me in the eye. It was indeed a powerful and defining moment. While those around me, friend and foe alike, cowered in shame and embarassment, I stood majestic and triumphant, and will forever bask in the glory of how incredibly “rock and roll” I was that cold January morning.

I was trying to sound poetic in that first paragraph, sorry.

On a more serious note, I truelly do want to say that I am not going to be able to do this event justice in my blog today. I am just going to try and give you an idea of what went down. Specific phrases and words will be left out, so as to save my mother the embarrasament that might otherwise be caused to her. Mom, just know, that I love you and that my smoking firebrand of a tongue has no reflection of any lack of effort or incorrectness of method on your attemps to bring me up right. Some stallions just can’t be broken…I think those are the horses that they usually shoot in the end…all I can say is that I am a renegade, trying to drop a few truth bombs on some unsuspecting fools. Here we go.

So I was sitting in my engineering dynamics class, we had just finished a routine 10 minute quiz.

Before I go on, bare in mind that at this point in my life, I had not yet given up on “succeeding,” and so I was quite concerned about my grades.

Now, these 10 minute quizzes every other class period (and especially this specific quiz) were ruining my perfect 3.4 GPA. I understood the concepts probably better than 95 percent of the class, but I couldn’t work under the stress of such a short time period. It was like trying to take a pee with 50 people watching, I just couldn’t get started.

The quiz ended, and I knew that I choked. I leaned over to my only two friends in the class (and perhaps at BYU) and started complaining. Now, for those of you who have ever sat next to me in Sunday school, you know that I don’t have a whisper. I have a relativly low voice, and the human ear is not very sensitive to low frequencies at low amplitudes, so in order to be heard, I have to increase the volume, which then causes my voice to be carried over a very large area (Elephants use subsonic frequencies to communicate with herd members at incredible distances).

So here I am, rumbling out a few of my complaints to my friends, but not using any swear words at all mind you, and all of the sudden, some tough guy sitting right in front of me turns around, and in a very soft whisper says “hey man, shut the hell up.”

Time stopped for an instant. I used this breif pause in the space-time continuum to absorb what had just happened. As soon as the earth started to spin again, I leaned in about 4 inches from this guys face, and in a voice that could be heard, asked him who the hell he thought he was. Then before he could respond, I told him the answer. I told him he was an asshole and that he needed to turn around and mind his own business. He said some other stuff about trying to learn, I mostly ignored this on account that my brain was still pretty fried from how he had told me to shut the hell up just moments previous.

Before I continue, I just want to ask, how was a supposed to react in this situation? What was this guy expecting to happen when he decided to turn around and start the swearing game? Did he think I was going to nervously apologize, gather my things, and go out and start waxing his car? Good hell. On with the story.

So I was fuming for the first half of the period (and you can be sure that he was too). It wasn’t long before my friends started joking around and laughing queitly about nothing related to this story. I then, in an attempt to riducule and sarcastically belittle the jerk infront of me, said to my friends, again in a voice that could be heard; “hey, stop laughing, some of the people in the class are trying to learn.”

Hook, line and sinker, he succumbed to my buffetings. He turned around and in a soft whisper called me an asshole. I, in a voice that could be heard, scoffed, explained that he started this game, and told him to go to hell and turn back around.

I was still angry. I probably ground off most of the enamel on my teeth that morning, but it was ok, because class was over. I was just gonna get up and walk out. But before I could do anything, literally right after the bell rang, he turned around, and this time, in a voice that could be heard, benevolently offered his hand to be shaken and apologized to me about “how things went down.”

Woo wee! I literally almost puked with disgust. HE WASN’T SORRY!!

This guy was going to sit there and pretend that in a few short minutes he had sorted out his feelings, felt remorse for what he had done, and gained a desire to make recompense!? And done all of this with a body full of adrenline and testosterone!? Heart beating, glands pumping, palms sweating! I don’t buy it!

He wants to turn around and make things all better with some half-ass, self promoting apology! Not going to happen, sorry man, maybe with all these other shmucks you see sitting around you, but not with me!

I pushed his had away and told him to eat shit. I told him that I was not going to be a part of him soothing his own concience so that he could feel good when he went to bed that night. I let him know that I knew he was full of crap and that I didn’t want to hear his very public apology, after everything else he had contributed to the conversation had been so private.

As I walked away I heard some idiot say “hey man, he doesn’t deserve that, he apologized, come on man.” I called them both assholes in a voice that could be very much heard and walked out of the room.

BOOYAH! That’s the story. A few weeks later I was talking to some kids in the class that had seen what went down. They apparantley could only hear what I was saying and had no idea that Mr. Apology had started it, let alone that he had started it in such an abrupt, rude, and aggressive manner.

Anyway, I think this is gonna be the last issue of “Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition.” I am trying to turn over a new leaf of apathy towards those around me, I don’t think my blood pressure will last if I keep this lifestyle up. Sure, I’m fine now, but when I am forty five, overworked and overweight, things will probably be a bit different. Also my mom, I don’t think she appreciates these stories as much as some of the other readers do. Love you mom.

Thanks for listening to me brag about how cool I was in these three issues of “Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition.” Have a good week everybody.

Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition. Issue no. 2

2009-04-25T10:48:00.001-07:00

Well, school’s been out for a little under a week now. I’ve been taking it easy, casually looking for a job on the interweb. It’s been nice. With all this time on my hands, I’ve decided to type up the second issue of “Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition.”

Me and some buddies went to play basketball up at the smith field house. There was another team there already playing, so we waited for them get done. We waited for like 15 minutes, and then as this team was finishing up, and as we were getting on, another bunch of guys showed up and claimed (without any evidence to support their stories) that they had the place reserved.

We explained that we had been waiting for quite sometime to play, and so we worked out a deal. We saw that they had about 10 guys (enough for two teams) and we had about 5 (enough for another team). The deal was that they could play a game with there 10 guys, and then the loser would come off and we would play the winner, and then the loser of that game would come off, and the loser of the previous game would come on and play the winners and so on and so forth…it was a fairly simple plan, and to tell you the truth, I felt quite benevolent at this point for allowing all of this unconvenient compromise to go down so smoothly.

So they played for 15 minutes. Then we played the winner for 15 minutes or so while the loser of the previous game watched. We lost the game (not my fault) and got off the court. Then the other teams played for a good 15 minutes as my team waited patiently. When the game ended, my team got on the court in preparation to play, since it was our turn. As we came on, one of the douchier (doo-shee-er) guys of the other team “asked” us in a very appropriate tone if it would be alright if they just kept on playing. We very politely responded that we had been waiting to play and that it was our turn, according to our agreement.

The kid responded to this by saying that they had reserved the court and they were going to continue playing. We very calmly tried to work out another compromise of dividing up the court into two courts, that way all of us could play. To this, the young man replied “no, I think we are just going to keep playing, we are really sorry, but we had it reserved.”

Until now, I hadn’t said too much, I was just trying to look intimidating in the background. But at this point, I could no longer hold my silence.

I can’t stand it when people are politely rude to me, when they hide their true emotions behind a façade of Christianity and kindness to avoid dealing with the conflict that their arrogance and selfishness is causing.

I put on my angry face and with a very very restrained vocabulary, explained to this guy that yes, he had the court reserved and for that reason, he had the right to say that we couldn’t play, but that he was not sorry. People who are sorry do what they can to fix the problem. I told him if he wanted to make us leave after having waited around and watched them play for 15 minutes, whatever, but he wasn’t gonna lie to me, telling me that he was sorry, and then go home that night thinking that he got away with it. No sir! Yeah, sure, I will walk the trail of tears, because after all, you have the guns. But I’m gonna bitch every step of the way, and you’re gonna know, that if someday you come astumblin’ into my reservation, you won’t be having a very comfortable stay (That was an analogy referring to the similarities between this instance in time and the oppression of the Indians by America during the presendency of Andrew Jackson. I did not use this analogy at the time of this confrontation, it was merely an after thought).

In the end, he admitted that he wasn’t sorry. I then congratulated him on his honesty, and left. The best part of all of this was that I didn’t even really want to play basketball that much. I was even a little bit relieved to be going home.

Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition. Issue no. 1

2009-04-15T15:12:00.000-07:00

There are moments in life when a man has a chance to define his character and show his true quality. For some, it might happen on a battle field, when a fellow soldier, wounded and suffering, calls for help are answered by a brave medic running amidst bullets and shrapnel to the injured’s aide. For another, it might occur in the top of the highest skyscraper, when all that stands between a man and his fortunes is a small signature next to an even smaller X on a contract that would cause him to go against his ethical beliefs. But for others, it is a much smaller instance, when few people are looking, and where no medals will be awarded for bravery and honesty.

Recent events have led to the need for a blog…perhaps a mini-series of blogs even. I believe I shall entitle it “Pride and Prejudice: Provo Edition”

Just yesterday I had quite the “discussion” with a roommate, and it got me thinking about other “discussions” I have had with people through out the past two semesters here in this lovely deseret where the saints of God have met. Three specific events came to mind especially. The next few blogs will be dedicated to these moments that have defined me and given me a chance to stand with the millions of others who have not laid down or given up on what they believed in for the sake of avoiding a little bit of confrontation. Some people have said that my inability to let people get away with their behavior is a weakness. To those people, I quote the words of Abraham Lincoln:

“Go to hell you confederate slime!”

Anyway, with that introduction, I will dive into the first confrontation, which happened only yesterday.

For the past two semesters I have been living with an Indian (dot, not feathers). He has been less than a perfect roommate. I will now outline his offenses against me.

1st Literally every night this winter, he would come home at like two in the morning and shut of the furnace. I talked to him a few times about this, telling him that he shouldn’t do that. I even went so far as to duct tape the on/off switch in the on position, so as to send a message. He continued to do this all winter, and even to this day, demands control of the thermostat. Freaking terrorist.

2nd He eats curry. This makes my house smell a way that I never wanted it to smell. And if you think curry food smells bad, you should take of whiff of curry shit, it is infinitely worse.

3rd Any time you try and get money from him to pay the utility bills, you have to go through 3 or 4 days of deliberations and negotiations before he will cut the check.

4th Every time me and Brigham and some other dudes are rocking out, he texts me and tells me to turn it down. I then proceed towards my guitar amp to turn it down, but by the time I have crossed the room, I am so angry over his arrogance, that I end up turning the volume up instead.

5th Any time he wants to communicate, he writes his feelings on a post-it note and leaves it on your door. In these notes he uses such abbreviations as “u” for you and “2” for to. This bothers me.

These past two semesters I have tried to be a good roommate and just keep my mouth shut, but a few days ago, the proverbial straw that broke the camels back came afalling down. This camel was unfortunately carrying a bucket of shit at the time, which, when the camel’s back broke, fell off into a giant fan.

Said straw is this. My brother Brigham has on occasion stayed over at my house. He sleeps on a mattress laid out in my room. My Indian friend, who suspects Brigham of having eaten some of his granola bars, decided to go to the management over this and complain. So now the management is on my back and Brigham can’t spend the night anymore.

So last night Brigham left a note of Satyan’s (the Indian’s) door. The note basically said this:

“If u have a problem with me, why don’t u come and talk to me about it”

Satyan then found the note and brought it to my attention. He asked me what it meant. And that’s how the things got started. I, with a number of explicatives, I told Satyan exactly what I thought about him. I told him he was selfish, cheap, arrogant and lazy. One of my favorite lines of the conversation was this:

Dallin: Hey man, management called and told me that you told on my brother. (They actually didn’t tell me who told on Brigham, they just said it was a roommate, but I have watched enough law and orders to know how to get a criminal to admit his own crime)

Satyan: Of course I did.

Dallin: Well, I just want to let you know, that here in America, that is a little bitch thing to do.

Satyan: Thank you for that word.

Dallin: I didn’t say anything at this point; I was just looking at him in shock over how lame his comeback was.

So we discussed all the problems, nothing was resolved, but I felt better. The argument was over and I went to my room to bask in my ‘”bad-assness.” About five minutes later he poked his head into my room and asked me what temperature I would like the thermostat set at. I said I didn’t know. He told me to just say a number, I said 70. He then left to go study up at the school. A few minutes later he started to text me. This is the text conversation we had. Now, as you read this, keep in mind that this guys English is not the best, so some parts of it aren’t very clear, and I will be quoting it word for word, so just bare with me. Also, it will be much funnier if you read Satyan’s parts with an Indian accent. Here we go.

Satyan: I am telling you right now that 67 is what I am going to set it at. You want it higher then figure out some other house. 67 is a universal temp. Whether you respond or not. And you said a lot of crazy stuff about Darren (another roommate) that was not true. Anyway Peace out.

Dallin: Stop texting me.

Satyan: Sure. And. I think you’ve done enough yelling now. You started this whole thing. Now if I find you guys stealing my stuff and interfering with my food and stuff – its 911 time. I have proof of my stuff being used – I’ve kept it quite cause it’s a hassle for me to call cops. I’ll keep my promise of keeping the heat fine and cleaning up the mess if I make any. You keep yours and we will be just fine. You also had my coke cans. We all know who is being cheap.

Dallin: Boo Hoo. Stop texting me.

Satyan: Yeah. You are funny man. You’re so wrong about your own country. I told my friend about it and he couldn’t believe I have not complained to the housing department and the cops. Anyway. Later. And fyi. Drums and guitars are not kept in the living room. That does not mean that I go throw it out like how you used my bread based on your logic.

Dallin: Whatever Slum dog.

Satyan: Sure. At least I have values and manners.

And that was that. About half an hour later he came home and I was sitting in the front room. I stared him down all the way down the stairs and then all the way out the door when he came back up. He never looked at me once. So anyway, that’s that. It felt really good to let him know how I felt. The best part is that we are in the same major, so we always see each other in classes and stuff. I think I am just gonna be sarcastically nice to him on campus, and then when he refuses to reciprocate my kindness, everybody will see this, and then they will be on my side. I will then ridicule him in front of all them. It will be glorious. Haha, just kidding. I’m not gonna do that. I don’t think I could anyway, seeing that I have had confrontations with just about everybody else in my major. But we will save those for the next issue of “Pride and Prejudice: Prove Edition.” Have a good week everybody.

And the winner is...

2009-02-09T09:29:00.000-08:00

It’s been nearly two months. Wow, how time flies. I was really doing well with my blog too. I felt I was pretty consistent. Then it just stopped. No warning, no reason…it just stopped. I wonder if that’s how it will happen when I leave the church. Just kidding.

I guess I have just ran out of opinions. I guess I could get on here every week and talk about meaningless and moderately entertaining events, but I don’t think that really suits me.

What really motivated me to get on here and type up some stuff, is one, I have a book of mormon test and a church history test to be studying for…but also I saw some interesting news on the interweb that I wanted to comment on.

I was reading the results of the Grammy’s. Now I wasn’t expecting to see anything too amazing. I went into it knowing that Pearl Jam and Red Hot Chili Peppers weren’t going to be receiving any “honors.”

I wasn’t surprised by the Jonas Brothers being nominated for best new artists, or by Cold Play taking best rock album. This is the world we live in, and I have accepted that.

I was, however, shocked, appalled and disgusted with former Led Zeppelin front man, Robert Plant. He and Alison Krauss teamed up to make, what apparently was a pretty stunning album.

This is the lamest, most shameful, awkward, dissapointing, surprising, disgusting, horrible, gross, perverted, ironic, stupid, gay, wierd, shallow, trying so hard not to type a swear word, stupefying, dehumanizing, illogical, foreign, slimey, crooked, upside down, idiotic, repulsive, turn coat, dishonorable, homosexual violation of rock and roll I have ever been privy too.

Where was his agent on that one? When a rocker’s career comes to this point, said rocker is provided with two options. He can sell out, or he can commit suicide. Robert Plant sold out.

So this leads me to ponder on my own life, and what I should do with respect to my blog. Do I pull a Robert, and just write a bunch of crap, forsaking the standard of quality that I have up to now strived so diligently to maintain? Or do I take Kurt Cobain’s path and leave it all behind…wow, that sounds a lot more depressing than I intended it to. This is not a suicide note. I use Kurt’s death in analogy, not in a literal sense.

Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. Led Zeppelin is lamer in my eyes than it ever has been. Can I get an amen?

Love Boat: With captain Dallin

2008-12-12T12:10:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago I typed up a big fat page and a half blog. It was a follow up to “truth bomb.” I got done with it and was satisfied with what I had written; I think that it gets my point across. In spite of this, I’ve decided, for the sake of my blog, not to post it. I think it is just a little bit more than what many of my readers would want to hear. So it has been consigned to a life time in the dark archives of my mind, never to bask in the light of day.

That having been said, now I must think of a new topic to blog about. I took a girl on a date last week. It was fun, we went and got a little bit of spanish food, and then I dropped her off at her house. We had a good time, but I don’t think it’s gonna go anywhere. As a second attempt to win her heart, I made her a mix tape. I was actually just trying to be funny, but I think it came off as weird. I put some pretty cool jams on there, but I don’t know if she will appreciate them as much as I do. I told her if she didn’t like the CD, she could always just put it in the microwave and see what happens. Again, trying to be funny and ending up looking like a weirdo. Whatever, walks like a duck, sounds like a duck, smells like a duck, must be a duck (this is me eluding to the idea that maybe the reason why girls get weirded out by me isn’t because they don’t get my sense of humor, but rather, I’m just a weirdo, or in the case of the analogy, a duck).

Its ok, I’m already over the rejection. I guess after so many, you kind of get callused over. It’s kind of like working on a ranch all day long. The first time you realize you stepped in cow duke, it’s kind of gross, the second time is still pretty nasty, but by noon, when you’re covered with it up to your knees anyway, one more cow pie just doesn’t mean too much to you. The only problem is, other people notice when you get all callused over and bitter, and nobody wants to hang out with a guy that smells like shit. This in turn causes you to become more callused. It’s a vicious cycle.

Well, I think that should do it for me this week. I’m gonna head on home, warm up some Nalley Jalapeño Hot Chili, play some guitar and then maybe have another can of chili. Good times. Have a good week everybody.

Truth Bomb

2008-12-01T17:22:00.000-08:00

I didn’t blog last Friday. Sorry, I was on vacation. I’ve been doing some thinking this evening, so I figured I would lay some of these words going through my head on all of you. I’ve been cooking up a little scenario in my mind; let’s see if you all can answer some of my questions. Here’s the situation.

A colony of 400 identical human clones is living in New York City. These clones get together one night for their weekly clone therapy meeting. During this meeting, they all decide that they are sick of the filth and noise of the big city, and they want to move out to some remote location, and start a community of their own.

The next day, the clones wake up, and make there pilgrimage to their new utopian home in a fertile, vacant, peaceful valley in southern Kansas.

Having arrived, it was time for the clones to get to work. Now it is important to realize that all of the clones are identical, and being identical, they all have the capability to become doctors. They knew that in New York City, doctors lived very comfortable lives, and so this is what all the clones wanted. They were all capable of putting forth the effort, they were all willing to put forth the effort, and they were all anxious to get started.

It wasn’t long before the clones realized a small flaw in their pursuit of happiness. First of all, they realized that a group of 400 hundred clones doesn’t need 400 hundred doctors…they only need one…and maybe a nurse.

They also realized that in order to set up a medical practice, they were going to need an office, and in order to have an office, they were going to need a construction worker. They also were going to need other things. They were going to need a plumber, so they could have running water. They were going to need a garbage man, who would be able to take away all of the unsanitary and contaminated gauze and dispose of it. They also needed somebody to grow food, and raise cattle, and build cars, and teach their children, and enforce the laws, and every other thing that is necessary for a functioning society.

The clones quickly realized that if a remedy was not found soon, their clone utopia would turn into a clone graveyard.

The clones decided to hold another meeting to find a solution to the overwhelming problem. They knew they didn’t want to return to the filth of New York and admit that they needed all the prideful and uncompassionate people that lived their. They sat in their meeting for a few moments, and then one noble clone stood and said that he would forfeit his right to be doctor, and become a construction worker, for the propagation of the clone society. Another rose and volunteered to be the garbage man, and another clone a farmer. Within a few minutes, all the necessary positions were filled, and things were looking up. Just then, one clone, a small child clone named Jimmy, rose and posed the question, “What are we going to pay each person for the job that they do?”

This is the question I pose to you. Who gets paid the most? Who gets paid the least? Should they base the pay scale on the physical difficulty of the job or the mental difficulty of the job? Should they pay the most important jobs the most? Which jobs are the most important?

Well have fun wrapping your mind around that little jewel. I would really like to know what you think. What should the clones do? Is there a right answer?

There is a right answer. I know what it is, and so do you. It’s obvious; it’s as plain on the nose on your face.

If you are answering this question in your mind right now, and you are starting to feel like a little bit of a socialist, don’t worry, there are a few key differences between the correct answer to this little riddle and socialism, maybe I will blog about it sometime.

Welcome to Zion, I hope you brought your wallet.

2008-11-23T00:42:00.000-08:00

Today I got a letter from Horizon Property Management Inc. They are my slum lords. Turns out that I forgot to pay my rent last month…woops. It really was a mistake, I don’t know how I forgot, but I did. Anyway, Mr. Horizon Management (a fellow “brother” of the faith, a man with which I am “one in hope and doctrine, one in charity”) is exacting no less than one hundred dollars out of me, as a punishment for my heinous and sinful act.

It’s not like I was going to take that money and buy a boat, or a nice leather jacket. I was actually going to use it for bread, maybe some Sunday shoes, oh well, I guess those are the breaks. I’m the one who forgot to pay my rent; I need to be taught this lesson. I just hope that when my land lord goes home tonight, and gets down on his knees with his family, that he remembers to thank the Lord for the bounteous blessings that have been bestowed upon him. Does one person have to lose in order for another one to win? I guess so.

Oh well, not to worry, these people will be sure to get a piece of my mind. Don’t worry mom and dad, I’m not going to swear or make any threats, not after seeing what these people did to a close friend of mine for using some foul language and throwing a few water balloons. I’m just going to let this man know that he is a thief, and that while he can sooth his conscience all he wants with thoughts of free market capitalism and legally binding contracts, he’s still wrong, and he is going to know that I know it. I can’t wait. It’s almost worth the hundred dollars that are being legally stolen from me.

Whatever, its just money. “The man’s” way of holding us down. It’s easy to forget that it really doesn’t matter at all. It is interesting though, that while the money itself is useless and of no real consequence, what we do with it, and what we will do for it will determine our eternities. I hope that 100 dollars is worth it…actually, I don’t.

happy belated blog

2008-11-17T17:06:00.000-08:00

So I didn’t get around to my blog on Friday. Just let me give a quick little shout out to my cuz, Travis Schultz. He wrote a touching comment on my so rarely written on facebook wall. Thank you to you my man, it’s nice to be missed.

To tell you all the truth, I really don’t have anything to say, but it’s either this, or go learn some stuff I can forget in a few months. Sometimes I wonder about this whole school thing. I’ve been going for sometime now, and I’m no more an engineer than I am a rockstar. Sure, I could tell you how long it would take a box sliding at 10 meters per second to stop completely given a frictional coefficient of .37. I might be able to explain to you how a rainbow is formed in the water droplets contained in the air. I could give an entire lecture on how to find the area under the graph of just about any mathematical function that any of you could come up with. I could explain to you the atomic structure of steel and how a tempering process can increase its mechanical properties. But ask me to engineer anything beyond a peanut butter sandwich and I’m useless.

New topic. Ben Folds was amazing. I want to be a rockstar. I’m not sure if there is a happiness out there for me that doesn’t involve a life of drugs, sex and money. Just kidding mom. I can only imagine what it would be like to unleash a facemelter on my electric guitar in front thousands of cheering fans. To turn my amp up so loud that the sound waves coming out of it would be loud enough to boil an egg (that’s possible. I would know, I’m a scientist). The problem is, anytime I attempt to write a rock song, it just comes out sounding contrived and overly dramatic. The world doesn’t need another Nickelback, and I’m not about to give it one.

While I’ve pretty much given up on ever having the ability to write a decent jam, I really think that I could write a pretty funny screenplay. But I can’t do that until I get a laptop to write it on. Unfortunately I’m too busy wasting my money and time learning about rainbows to be able to afford a laptop. Oh well, even if I had a computer, I don’t think I would be able to morally justify writing a screenplay of the genre that I would want to write. I would definitely go into comedy, and I’m not talking about cheaper by the dozen daddy day care bull shit. It would be crude, negative, lightminded, wickedness. Mormons aren’t even supposed to watch R rated movies let alone write them. You think Steve Young is controversial? Holy shit, he’s got nothing. Some of you might be thinking,” Well why don’t you just do it, the guilt will pass, or maybe you could do it under a pseudo name or something?” All you people saying this were probably, like most people, born with a conscience that could be likened unto some sort of small insect. My conscience however, is more like a terrifying grizzly bear…and the sad part is that I don’t have the moral fiber to do what is necessary to appease the beast. Oh well, one of these days I’m gonna kill the damn thing, piss on its dead corpse and drive it off a cliff. Jiminy Cricket that bitch. Have a good week everybody.

Crossfire: With your host, Dallin Shaw

2008-11-07T19:16:00.000-08:00

For those of you who haven’t heard, Obama won. I was hoping McCain would take it, mostly because I feel as though SNL does a better impression of him and Sarah. Other than that, I wasn’t too concerned with who won. A man walks into a restaurant; the waiter seats him and asks what he will be having. The man responds, “What’s on the menu?” The waiter quickly replies “cat shit and dog shit.” The man in utter disgust responds “that is horrific! I would never eat dog shit!” (This was a political commentary on the absurdity of getting worked up over who won or lost the election. When it comes right down to it, the textures, colors and consistencies might be a little different, but either way, you’re gonna be left with a bad taste in your mouth.)

Also in political news, the Gays lost. When one journalist asked one of the disappointed homosexuals what he thought about the results, the man replied “Whatever. Once again, the homosexual population takes one up the ass from big brother.” All the reporter could say in response was “yeah, that’s pretty gay.”

HaHaHa! Zinger!

Sorry for the profanity, it just adds so much to the over all flavor of the blog, I’m sure you all understand. I don’t mean to offend any of the people reading it. It’s just that things like the stuff I have written above and in previous blogs are always coming to my mind, or coming up in conversations…usually these are conversations with my brother Brigham, or with myself. It turns out that those are pretty much the only two people on this planet that can stand to be around me for more that 20 minutes at a time.

On a different subject, I am flying out of Salt Lake City tomorrow morning to go to a Ben Folds concert. So far, during my life, I have seen, in this order, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Presidents of the United States, Incubus, Angels and Airwaves (Lame), and Weezer. Ben Folds definitely deserves a spot on that list. Also, I saw Lonestar at the Benton Franklin County Fair. I don’t feel that this counts as a concert any more than I feel that the hypnotist’s performance right before them was a concert. Have a good week everybody.

My name is Dallin, but my friends call me Dream Crusher

2008-10-30T13:58:00.000-07:00

Well happy Halloween everybody. Can’t you just feel the magic in the air? Decorations, pumpkins, candy, costumes, and all that other good stuff. You just gotta love it. Few people know this, but Halloween is actually the most widely celebrated holiday in the world. Yep, that’s right, the one time of year, when all peoples from all over the globe, from nearly every walk of life, all join hands in unison to celebrate Satan’s birthday. Or at least that’s what my mom tells me.

Before I go on with the real point of my blog, here are a few “Scary” Statistics that I looked up on the internet machine with the google button.

1. One in every ten thousand candies given out on Halloween has in someway been tampered with. (poison, razor blades, boogers etc…)

2. The chances of your child being molested on Halloween are 3.6 times greater than on any other night of the year.

3. One child of every fifty thousand that leaves home to go trick or treating never comes back.

Happy Halloween Everybody. We will now dive into the real issue to be discussed in today’s rant.

Over the past year or so, I have come to the realization that, as far as holidays go, I am a scrooge. From Halloween, to Christmas, to the Fourth of July, I have a general distaste for the way we go about celebrating these events in our culture. I don’t even believe in birthday parties. I have told many people on many occasions that my children aren’t going to know what there birth-date is until they need it to apply for a job.

Now there are some holidays that I think we could completely eliminate. Halloween is definitely one of them. It serves no purpose. Supposedly it originated from celebrating dead people…that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. “Hey remember grandpa? Man, I miss him…let’s go have some candy.” This is especially ironic seeing that my grandfather died, due largely to sugar diabetes. Maybe the children of a cancer patient can go light up some Cubans after their parent after the funeral.

There are other holidays that I think are good and have a wholesome purpose, but they have become completely perverted by greed and commercialism. Let’s talk about a few of these.
Christmas is of course at the forefront. If there ever was a reason to celebrate, this is it, and yet it is the most corrupt of all holidays. Talk about a festival of greed. Honestly now, is there anybody reading this right now that can say with a straight face that they are thinking about Jesus on Christmas morning? Yeah, maybe we think of him a few times through out the season, but lets be truthful with ourselves, the real reason we are excited is for the shiny toys that we are going to get. The nativity story is always the longest part of the family Christmas party.

Let’s talk about Thanksgiving. Here we celebrate the bounty that the Lord has given us by gorging ourselves with sugars and saturated fats. Eating and eating and eating until it hurts followed by a nice long nap. I think it is important to realize that this whole time that we are “saying thank you” for everything we have; there are people all over the world, and probably in our own communities that are literally starving and freezing to death.

Fourth of July. We set off fire works, play baseball, go boating and have picnics, celebrating our freedom and the pursuit of happiness. The very next day we proceed with our usual efforts to captivate those around us with debts and contracts. Holding grudges against people who have offended us. Squeezing our neighbors like lemons, trying to get every cent we can out of them, no matter how little we need it, or how badly they do. But hey, its legal, its capitalism, and we are all free to do it. I’m sure that this is exactly what God had in mind when he gave this great nation its freedom in the first place (that’s right, it was given to us, not earned, like everything we have).

Valentines Day can eat shit and die.

There are many things in life that are worthy of celebration. We should look for these things and take opportunities to express gratitude for them with the people around us. While the holiday’s in our culture were maybe at some point in their existence, focused on these worthy causes, they have deviated considerably from what they once were. Wal-Mart, Costco and JC Penny have taken pure and wholesome ideas, and perverted them with money. “Do you love your wife? Buy our product.” “Are you a Patriot? Buy our product.” “Do you believe in God? Buy our product.” I don’t know about you, but I hate being manipulated. The CEO of a company doesn’t care about the pilgrims, or about your marriage, or about anything else in your sorry little life. He cares about your bank account, and the rate at which your money is leaving it, and going into his. Also, those statistics about Halloween are made up.

I think I'm gonna go to Carl's Jr. and get a deer burger...

2008-10-24T14:39:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the other day, I saw this Bad-A car. It was a bright yellow 1970 Chevelle. It had a big old lift on the back suspension, shiny rims, and a black double-racing stripe down the center. I was having fun just looking at it. It was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. So the next morning I woke up really really early, like at 1:30, put on some warm clothes, got my paint thinner and a sledge hammer and went down and beat the SHIT out of it. It was awesome! I can’t tell you how good it felt to take something cool and ruin it completely.

Next story. The other day I was walking through the mountains, and I saw this HUGE buck deer. It was completely amazing. I didn’t know that they could get so big, it was like a horse. And its antlers were the biggest I had ever seen. It was probably one of the most majestic things I had seen in a long time. So the next morning I woke up really really early, like at 1:30, got my buck knife and rifle and went up and shot the SHIT out of it. It was awesome! I can’t tell you how good it felt to take something cool and ruin it completely.

In our culture, one of these stories is completely illogical and would never happen, the other is perfectly acceptable. I ask you, Why?

I’m not environmentalist; the earth is here for us. We are allowed to use it and benefit from it, but no matter how I try, I can’t seem to figure this hunting thing out. Here are the typical reasons why people say they hunt.

#1 Bonding

Bullshit. If bonding were the only goal, why not do it at dinner, or playing tennis, or Nintendo, or just talking, going on a road trip, helping with homework, or during any one of the other million things you could do in a warm, dry, comfortable room.

#2 For the meat

Are you going to tell me that a piece of meat from an overgrown rat that has spent its life eating pine cones and running from mountain lions is going to taste better than a grain-fed black angus that has done nothing but stand in a field and tenderize its entire life? Pa-lease, you’re making a fool of yourself.

#3 Over population

HA! HA! Right. That must be why there are people lined up from here to hell to get a permit to shoot a buffalo….because there are just too damn many of the stupid things. Morons.

I’m sure that there are other reasons people have made up to justify their thirst for blood, but let me explain to you the real reason. Humans are evil.

It is in our nature, as humans, to get a kick out of watching something bleed out and die. It’s why we burn ants with magnifying glasses, it’s why we shoot robins with B.B. guns, and it’s why violent movies make millions every weekend at the box office. I think we do it because it makes us feel powerful. I can’t say I don’t share this character flaw. There is a definite rush of adrenaline to pull a trigger, hear the shot go off, and then watch the bird fall out of its tree onto the cold hard pavement. However, I will also say, that as far as my experience has been concerned, the rush has always, without fail, been followed by a feeling of guilt and shame. I can only imagine how I would feel after shooting something like a deer.

Now I realize that in order to have meat to eat, you have to kill. You may ask, “To kill a deer or to kill a cow, what’s the difference?” The difference is that the deer hunter and the cow slaughterer have completely different attitudes and motivations with respect to the tasks they are presented with. One does it anxiously, one does it as a job.

I don’t care how you twist it; hunting as we know it and do it is wrong. Now if you don’t have the money to afford meat from the store, and you do have a gun and bullets, and there are deer to be shot, then by all means, shoot. But I don’t know anybody that is in that specific situation, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either.

If you are a hunter, that’s fine. You get your fill of blood in the mountains, I get my fill of blood eating a sirloin and watching Gladiator, we both have the same root problem. What annoys me is that hunters won’t admit that it is wrong. Right now, you hunters that are reading this, repeat in your minds “hunting is wrong. I should not want to take the life of a living organism for entertainment.”………did you say it? Well whether or not you said it, I’m pretty sure you know it.

Why I'm not a humanties major

2008-10-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about just re-posting one of my previous blogs, you know, like a re-run or something, but then I remembered something that I wanted to write about.

Charles Dickens was an Idiot. There, I said it. People rave about him like he was this great writer or something, but I just don’t see it.

The other day I picked up “A Tale of Two Cities” and started reading. I was so damn confused by the time I was done with the first page that I decided to quit while I still had some dignity. If that entire novel is written like the first little bit, then it isn’t a novel at all, it’s a short bedtime story told 6 times with different adjectives used each go around. Its funny, talk to me about thermodynamics and moments of inertia, I can usually keep up pretty well, its when you get into those darn stories that I really start to get confused…or maybe its just a really poorly written book.

You might be asking, “could you write a novel?”….that depends on what you mean by novel. If you mean an extended literary work that expresses a series of events in a written format, then no. If, on the other hand, you mean a really long list of words with a catchy title...then yeah, I probably could.

I guess I feel like people just give him (Chuck Dickens) too much hype…sometimes I think people decide something is really cool or really good, and then said thing is labeled as being cool or good for the rest of its existence, nobody ever questions its worth again. I think that this is what has happened in the church with the idea of a “Chiasmus”

I’ve never had a religion class where chiasmuses weren’t given an entire day’s worth of discussion time, which confuses me because they are lame and boring! For those of you who don’t know or remember what a chiasmus is, basically it is a paragraph structure that is apparently used a lot in The Book of Mormon. The easiest way to describe what a chiasmus is would be with an example. A paragraph might consist of these sentences…

A. Dallin was hungry.

B. Dallin drove to Wendies.

C. Dallin got two junior bacon cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce, and a small chili.

D. Dallin was so happy while he was eating it.

D. The food made Dallin very happy.

C. Dallin enjoyed his junior bacons, chicken nuggets and small chili very much.

B. They are the reason Dallin drove to Wendies.

A. Dallin was thankful that he was hungry

As maybe you can see, the first A through D phrases are a mirror image of the last D through A. The theory behind a chiasmus is that the emphasis of this paragraph would be Sentence D, that food makes Dallin Happy.

Like I said, this sort of structure is in the Book of Mormon…also like I said, every instructor I have ever had spends an entire hour talking about it…yeah, the book has chiasmus in it! We know! There is also an average of 36.8 punctuation marks per page, but nobody seems to care about that grammatical detail!

Oh well, I guess maybe they are cool, maybe I’m just being too close minded. Whatever, all I know is that had I been the one to discover the chiasmus, I probably would have just brushed it to the side...“hey look at that…its kind of like a pyramid of words, that’s kind of cool…I wonder how many pages are left in this chapter, I’m starving and I want to go to Wendies (see chiasmus above).”

2008-10-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

These were taken by Brigham, my brother. None of you reading this fully comprehend what these pictures mean to me. Just click on the pictures to see a larger version....freaking shit, this was awesome!

Concert Summation

2008-10-10T07:07:00.000-07:00

"Grandma take me home"
-Kurt Cobain

"Grandma take me home"
- Rivers Cuomo

"Grandma take me home"
- Dallin Shaw

I should be a rock star.

Top ten things I want to do in my life but am too afraid that they wont be funny

2008-10-05T14:18:00.000-07:00

#1 Go into a store like The Buckle or something and find the hottest girl in there. Walk up to her, and say "I don't usually do things like this, but I just have to let you know that you are probably the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. What's your name?"

#2 Go into a theatre, sit down next to a random person and say "this is going to sound crazy, but my name is Dallin and I am from the future. I need you to come with me, the survival of the mankind depends on it." And then see if they follow me.

#3 Wear an eyepatch all semester long to a class. When somebody asks me what happened to my eye, I will just say "Yar, Nothin!"

#4 Go for a walk on BYU campus and when I see someone on a bike coming at me, wait until they are about two feet away, and then scream as loud as I can right in there face to see if I can startle them so bad that they wreck.

#5 Fake a french accent in one of my classes all semester long.

#6 Get one of my friends to introduce me to one of their girl friends, but I will act like I am blind. I will touch her hands and her face and tell her that she feels beautiful. Then I will look down at her feet and say "hey my little sister has those same shoes."

#7 Get up during a testimony meeting and head up towards the pulpit as though I were going to bear my testimony, and then just exit out one of the doors up at the front of the chapel. This would be especially delicious if my mom were present.

#8 Tell a cop that has pulled me over for speeding that his breath smells like shit.

#9 Write a screenplay.

#10 Write another screenplay.

"This is not for you"

2008-09-29T17:06:00.001-07:00

I moved to Utah in February of 2006. I lived in “The Ventana” Condomiums, up behind Walmart in Orem. My roommates were my two brothers, Brigham and Levi, and my second cousin, Nick Killian.

Everything was so new and exciting. I was just off the mission, getting ready to start real life. Choosing my major, watching BYU basketball (and cheering too), listening to Jack Johnson, going to I-hop really late at night...All of the good stuff so many people here in the valley have been enjoying for decades. The sun was shining, life was good, and I was happy…or at least ignorant. Is there a difference…I’m not sure. Anyway.

One Friday evening, my brothers and I decided that we would throw a little shin-dig at our place. We invited Kristy Earl (another second cousin) and her apartment, who in turn invited another apartment of girls. I think that I invited a few mission buddies of mine as well. Haha, DOUCHE! How times have changed.

We had pizza and watched a movie…National Treasure…yeah, Nicholas Cage…I hate that man. I will blog about it sometime. Anyway, at one point of the party, things got kind of quiet, and my brother Brigham made a funny comment…I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I remember it involved the word “shit” and it might have been racial. It made me laugh.

After the party I asked Brigham where he got the nerve/confidence to make such a risky and controversial comment if front of so many people that he didn’t know. He told me that he was able to do it because he truelly didn't care about what any of those people thought of him.

I was awestruck and inspired. I knew that this attitude of complete social apathy would be the secret to my success as being “the funny guy,” a status that I have always wanted very badly (I gave up on being "the cool guy" or "the athlete" or anything else sometime during the first grade I think).

So how was I going to go about getting this apathy. Is it a decision one makes? Can a person just decide not to care? Or is there some sort of book I can read on it…”chicken soup for the asshole soul”? Can you pray for something like this? I eventually came to the conclusion that none of these avenues would lead me the desired results. I could do nothing, and so I did nothing.

And yet here we are, a little over 2 years down the road. I think its clear that I am not the person I once was…How did it happen? To all of you young and maturing pessimists out there, listen to my wisdom.

This attitude of disregard for the approval of others is not something you can decide to have. It cannot be taught. It cannot be awarded to you on the basis of merit, and in fact, the more you strive for it, the further it slips from you. It is not something that can be received at all, but rather, it is something that must be lost.

The ONLY way to get this “gift of loss," is for Life to take you by the hand, quietly and secrectly lead you into a dark alley, and mercilessly and relentlessly beat it out of you. You will cry, but don’t worry, the process isn’t over yet. After a few weeks, when you start to get that loving feeling back again, just as the happy starts to creep back into your soul, just as you begin to trust and forgive those around you, who comes a knockin’? Yup, its Life, And he brought his friend, Heartache, and both of them are mad as a hell. This cycle continues.

It’s a long and painful process, but it works. Im not sure how one goes about “applying” for the treatment…maybe Life just picks people at random, I don’t know, but if you are chosen, it will change you forever.

Though it is a painful process to go through, I cant tell you how wonderful it is to not care. To go into a class room and be able to say whatever and do whatever without any fear for what “they” might think. It is very, very, very liberating….and lonely, but whatever.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not all the way there yet. I still have several years of treatment before I will be able to say with complete honestly that I don't have an inhibitions. I am, however well on my way, leaps and bounds ahead of most of the mucky mucks here at the BYU. I care too little to be afraid to express my opinions and emotions in public, but I care just enough to want to express them, and so I think I have found a balance. I guess we'll know when my "treatment" is over when I care to little to even voice my opinions in this blog. Have a good week everybody.

Shallow Dal

2008-09-26T08:07:00.000-07:00

Last week my blog was “shallow”. This week I want to talk a little bit about what I think about being “shallow”.

We see people (or are people) that are attracted to somebody based largely on their looks, and we accuse them of being shallow. But then we can talk to a friend about their latest crush and they can say “I like him because he is HILARIOUS and also really thoughtful.” This of course is fine.

Allow me to pose a question or two. Did Steve Carrell work any harder for his marvelous sense of humor than did Brad Pitt for his gorgeous eyes and perfectly sculpted ass? NO! Did Frank Sinatra work any harder for his vocal chords than did Bill Gates for his brain? NO! They are all just doing their thing. Living there lives the best that they know or knew how. Taking the opportunities that were presented to them, using whatever resources and desires that they were given to do so.

We’ve all heard the “Nature vs. Nurture” debate. Was Albert Einstein smart because he was born that way, or because he was placed in a situation where those abilities were, for whatever reason, able to flourish? Does the comedian have such good comedic timing because he was born with it or because he was forced to develop it as a coping mechanism? The list goes on, but the answer is always the same! Who cares!? The individual doesn’t have anything to do with either nature or nurture. Is any of it really earned? Do you see my point? If you don’t you’re an idiot. Do you see my point now? Haha, just kidding, but seriously…

So what’s the difference? He likes her because she’s hot, she likes him because he’s ambitious, he likes her because she’s smart, or funny, or cool, or happy, or negative, or rich, or thoughtful, or WHATEVER! We are all just going after whatever we are attracted to. Nobody makes out with somebody else out of “nobility” or “duty” or “logic.” We all have our motives.

Like it or not, we all have a lower limit of what we are willing to socialize with or date or marry. Some of us set this standard low, some of us set it high, but we all have it. So maybe a dude has set his standard too high, and all the girls he wants are just plain out of reach, does that make him shallow? While other guys have set there standard at the exact same height, but are able to get that caliber of girl. Those guys aren’t shallow? Pa-lease.

In summation, either everybody is shallow or nobody is shallow. Why? Because we are all attracted to people for some reason, and that attraction is rarely, if ever, based on merit of the individual to whom we are attracted. More often than not, our attraction is based on the circumstances in which we find that special someone. The point at which we become confused is when we start saying that liking a person for one circumstance is more “honorable” than liking them for another. This is a lie.

I know the implications of what I am saying...no need to condescend.

2008-09-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

The Scenario:

I work for BYU designing the duct work systems through out all the buildings on campus. The job consists of drawing a bunch of lines on a fancy computer system called “AutoCAD.”

My boss (who does a lot of the same stuff I do) says that all of these pictures that I draw up is "engineering"…..right…apparently I have been engineering ever since the first time I used Microsoft Paint to make a rectangle. Good thing I spent all that money trying to learn calculus….anyway, I digress.

Where I work there is a secretary. This secretary is, for lack of a better word….hideous. In the biz we have an acronym for girls like her. It’s N.E.F.M. (Not Even for Money).

She and I have been working in the same building for about 6 months now. I pass by her desk probably 15-20 times on any given day. I have never spoken to her, and probably never will…I mean, after 6 months of consistently seeing someone and never speaking, somewhat of a precedent is set, a rather concrete relationship of non-friendship is established.

The Twist:

There is a new secretary now. She did not replace the old one, but rather is a supplement and helpmeet unto her….and she is smoking. Maybe its just a contrast thing (same sort of thing why black peoples teeth look so damn white), but regardless, I can totally see myself asking her on a date, having a great time, maybe flirting for a few months, and ultimately finding myself rejected and alone, economically and emotionally bankrupt.

The Dilemma:

Ying and Yang sit right next to each other. I can’t talk to the pretty one without the other one becoming offended, or infinitely worse, involved in the conversation.

The Question:

How do I go about “gettin” with this girl without running the risk of an awkward and miserable encounter? Do I wait for the ugly one to leave so I can get some face time with the pretty one? What if the ugly one comes back mid conversation? Do I pass the pretty one a note, describing to her my situation and arranging a meet time…would this make me look incredibly shallow?...would that be incredibly accurate?...

The Answer:

It was a trick question, I don’t talk to girls.

The Moral:

Let’s be honest…after reading this blog, can I really pretend like I’m concerned with “morals?”

Oh the sweet tender mercies.

2008-09-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

You know something is wrong with you when you get a feeling a glee when bad things happen to other people…even if the “bad thing” that happened has a negative affect on yourself.

Those that know me have probably come to the conclusion that I have some pretty different ideas about a lot of things. What can I say, I’m a mover and a shaker. Among these edgy and often radical ideas of mine is my perspective on the wide world of sports. This weekend, I received a little jewel of information that made me just want to stand up and cheer. To share this fascinating news, let’s do a little role play, because lets be honest, who doesn’t love role playing, I know I do.

Everybody reading this can play the part of the excited cougar fans, watching from all around the globe (I hope you have Comcast, because they are the only people who provide the little known “mountain” broadcasting network). You’re all sitting around the television, waiting for the Zion’s Bank commercials to get over…and then it starts…FINALLY!!!

Announcer #1: Welcome to the mountain west conference, home of the Brigham Young University Cougars!!! We’re here in Provo Utah, broadcasting to you live, from the Marriot Center…..AND HERE COME YOUR COUGARS!!!!!…..JONATHAN TAAAVERNARI!!!!.....LEEEEEEE CUMMARD!!!!!!!....TREEEENT PLAI…..what?! Where the hell is Trent Plaisted!?!…Oh my gosh, this just in, he quit playing for BYU and decided to play for a professional team in Europe!

Announcer #2: WHAT!!! Since when! I didn’t know they even play basketball in Europe!

Announcer #1: Oh yeah, it’s the third biggest sport over there. Soccer, then fox hunting, then Basketball.

Announcer#2: Really?

Announcer #1: Yep. One, two and three. Just like that. Wikipedia that shit, its all there. Actually, surprising to many, was that basketball beat out cricket, which is phenomenally huge in the nursing homes over there.

Announcer #2: Well crap.

Announcer #1: Yeah, so much for “bleeding blue.” Oh well, good luck over there Trent and Talley hoe.

(End Scene)

Yeah, I found out this past weekend, I felt so validated in my angst.

My take on sports is this: If you want to watch them, that’s cool. Whether you are watching them for the love of the game, or as an activity to bring your family together, or for whatever reason…its not my place to say. But please, don’t be under some illusion that when “your” team wins you win, because even though you might feel a sense of unity with them, they do not share the same feeling about you. When Trent Plaisted hits a shot, he hits it for himself…not for me, not for you, not for BYU. And as for the color of his blood…he, just like the rest of us, bleeds whatever color the person signing his paycheck tells him to.

Now one might say in rebuttal: “well if you are just as self-centered as Trent Plaisted, then what gives you the right to complain about his lack of loyalty”

I answer you this: When I sit down to do my physics homework, which is what I am good at, nobody comes to my door to watch and to cheer. And that is just how it should be, because really, all of the lives of my peers here at BYU go relatively unaffected by my getting a good grade on my test. And this is all fine and good, because, and I don’t hesitate to say this, I AM NOT DOING IT FOR THEM! I’M DOING IT FOR ME! But for some reason, when Trent Plaisted, or Max Hall pick up a ball, all of us all the sudden think that by them doing well, we are glorified. That in some strange sense, these guys are down there fighting a war for us. I repeat myself, they do not feel the same. There is no loyalty.

I know that there are some sports fans read this blog. This might rub them the wrong way. But try not to get to worked up about it, its just my opinion. And maybe as a little bit of sugar to help the medicine go down, I am very hypocritical in this argument, because, first of all, I love to play sports. I am a very competitive person. And second of all, there are some sports that I like to watch…like tennis, that’s good stuff, and I do get into it, ive even been known to stand up and raise my voice when the nice shot is made. Nontheless, in my defense I must say, if Roger Federer loses or wins a match…my day goes on relatively unaffected.

Where we are and how we got here

2008-09-02T14:16:00.000-07:00

I can’t help but feel that we as Americans are somewhat screwed up as a nation. Subjects like welfare, capital punishment, gay marriage and women’s voting rights have always plagued our voters and law makers. I think I know who the propagator of all the confusion is, and his name is Walt Disney. Consider the following.

Number 1. Robin Hood. On the surface, the friendly neighborhood fox, garnishing the wages of the rich to feed the needy poor. I think if we were to all look at who Robin Hood really was, our opinions about him would change. I don’t care how good you look in tights, theft is theft. Its wrong no matter which way you spin it. And do we really think that crook wasn’t enjoying all the infamy that he was getting out of it. Everybody wants to be the bad boy. Also, he wears tights and his name is Robin…that’s enough to make me question his sexual orientation, what about you? Have you ever played tribond? How do these three names relate? Karl Marx, Joseph Stalin, Robin Hood. That’s right, commies to the core.

Number 2. Ariel. She is a disobedient whore. My dad would have killed me if I would have sold my soul to an ocupus and gone to live in the ocean when I was barely sixteen wearing nothing but a bra…That is he would have killed me if only the t.v. hadn’t been so damn time consuming. He might have also made it to one of my tennis matches and maybe even taken me camping a time or two. Oh well, I’m over it.

Number 3. Aladdin. This is the perfect example of how the beautiful people of the earth can do no wrong. He was a thief. Yet we have sympathy for him. Have you ever had anything stolen from you? Its infuriating. One of my fantasies is to catch somebody (considerably smaller that I am) stealing something from me. I’m gonna chase him down the street, push him into a parked car, punch him a few times in the face, give him a kick or two to the ribs, then leave. Then maybe call an ambulance to go get him, cause I’m cool like that. (I blame my violent tendencies on Batman and the Ninja Turtles)

I think if we were to start feeding our childrens' minds with television shows that didn't glorify the bad guy, we would be a better nation...and really bored, but whatever.

Lets start by giving up.

2008-09-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

My family has been living in Utah for the past year or so. It has been great, it really has. Now, after having as much of Utah as they could take, they are retreating back to Washington, leaving me to fend for myself and survive the emotional desert that is my life all alone.

One of the best things of having my family here with me at college was being able to eat Sunday dinner with them every week after church. There were a few months where every week, I would come home from church, and the first thing I would tell my mom was "I talked to a girl today and got a date with her." The first five or six times my mom fell for it. "Really" she would ask. I would then reply with an immediate "no" and a quick shrug of the shoulders. We would all laugh and laugh...and then I would go down into my room and cry a little.

Eventually my mom got wise to my lies. Now when I say "I got a date." She either tells me to shut up, or just kind of ignores me. Yeah, it’s a little bit hurtful, but I guess I brought it upon myself.

What I want to talk about today is the importance of losing all expectations. I find it very interesting that I am the only person that has really given up on myself. Every time I start to talk to other people about how lame my life is, or how lame I am, they say things that are completely inappropriate. "Dallin, you are such a catch"..."That is not true Dallin, you just haven’t found the right person"..."you’re handsome."

I’m supposed to be the one who is having trouble accepting who I am and where I am going. But I find that it is actually my friends and family (more my friends than my family) who struggle with these things. Why can’t we just give up. I firmly believe that a healthy dose of apathy can change lives.

I think that we excuse ourselves from lying to each other in the name of "optimism." But I am here to say that we are confused about what optimism really is. It is not to lie. It is not to neglect the miserable and cruel reality which surrounds us. We don’t need to be like the horses we see in the parades, with the blinders on our eyes, shielding us from the bright colors and the so often offensive concepts of every day life.

Rather, true optimism is to step back, look at all the world has to offer, see all the crap that goes on and still, in spite of these things, maintain a firm hope that one day, we are going to get to die, and it will all be over. I am here to tell you my friends, that the sooner we come to grips with these concepts, the sooner we will be truly miserable, and isn’t that the goal?

In ending, I just want to show off two quotes that I made up.

"Take away all that a man has, and he will have nothing to lose"

"Rock bottom is an interesting place to be"

"Homeward Bound" (best if read in the voice of Micheal J. Fox)

2008-08-18T17:17:00.000-07:00

I'm in Washington, the homeland. I love this state....im not sure why. It might be the smells. The sense of smell is actually the sense closest tied to the memory. One of my favorite smells is the smell of freshly cut alfalfa...I can't really explain why that is.

Here's a list of reasons why Washington might be considered the best state to live in.

First off, lets consider Washington's effects on consumerism. Four names; Boeing, Microsoft, Costco, Nintendo. Life as we know it would be significantly different if any of these three went missing...all of them are products of Washington. (while we all know that Nintendo is a Japanese company, their American headquarter's are in Issaquah Wasington.)

Second, lets consider Washington's effects on national security. The A-bomb that crushed the rebel scum of Nazi Fascism was made in Washington. Congratulations on providing the world with freedom Washington, congratulations.

Now lets get to the most important contribution of this great state. Music.

Now don't get me wrong, theres nothing like a little head bangin' to a bit of Glamourous 80's Butt Rock every once in while, but as I have expressed in earlier blogs, 90's music completes me. Consider the following.

Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains. These four bands alone should be enough to convince anybody of the greatness of the Seattle music scene. Now lets talk about the spin offs of these greats. We all know Weezer was strongly influenced by Nirvana (please see "Ode to Weezer"). Also Foo Fighters frontman, Dave Grohl, got his music career going as the drummer of Nirvana. Speaking of Dave Grohl, he played drums for Queens of the Stone Age on their album "Songs for the Deaf." these are some pretty rockin tunes. And how about that Audioslave? Their lead singer and Soundgarden's lead singer are in fact, one in the same. Also the one and only Jimi Hendrix came out of seattle. Wow.

Recap:
Boeing, Costco, Nintendo, Microsoft, Atom Bomb, Nirvana, Weezer, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Audioslave, Alice in Chains, Jimi Hendrix, Foo Fighters, Queens of the Stone Age, and a whole lot of delicious apples. Not bad, not bad at all.

Ode to Weezer

2008-08-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

For all those who haven’t heard the news, Weezer is going on tour. They will be in Salt Lake City on the 7th of October, and then in Seattle on the 11th of October. I will be attending both events. In light of this glorious news, I want to share my thoughts on Weezer’s most recent album: The Red Album.

I’m not gonna lie…the first time I heard “Pork and Beans” I was crushed with disappointment…it was less than what I had expected…”working out at the gym to fit my underwear”??? I’m sorry, is this a rock song? Thankfully, I didn’t give up on them. I was able to lean on the ample arm of the Blue Album during this, my time of crisis, and pull through. Eventually Pork and Beans grew on me, but I still hadn’t given the entire album a chance.

I think the turning point came as I was walking to work one morning. It’s about a 20 minute walk, so I decided to give the new album a listen. The first two songs played through. They were alright. Then I got to the third song, Pork and Beans. By this time I was in the Weezer zone, but it wasn’t until the bridge of the 4th track that I really found myself rockin’. The bridge reads:

Back in 1991, I wasn’t havin’ any fun
till my roommate said come on, and put a brand new record on.
It had a baby on it, he was naked on it.
Then I heard the chords that broke the chains I had upon me.

I think it’s obvious what “new record” the song is referring to. And if you don’t know…then I guess you are an even bigger loser than I am…congratulations, this is no small feat.

I really connected with the album at this point. Probably because I like to consider myself a 90’s rocker…Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Weezer, Red Hot Chili Peppers…these bands just really do it for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider my “wonder years” to be the 90’s, because first of all, as I look back on my life, I struggle to see any time period even remotely similar to anything “wonder”-ful. And second of all, I was pretty young during the first half of the 90’s…I don’t remember too much…and as for the second half…I was a little bit busy saving the land of Hyrule from the evil powers of Gannon to be too concerned with what some people would call “growing up.”

I credit my tastes in music largely to my older brother, Brigham…he has always been a beacon to me…a lighthouse, guiding me to the shore of sadness and angst…if it weren’t for him, I might still be listening to Smash Mouth and Weird Al Yankovic under the illusion of happiness…thank you Brigham, thank you.

Over all, the Red album rocks hard. It’s very egocentric and in your face. It’s a group of “nerds” singing about how amazing they all are…how they ain’t gotta a thing to prove to you, how they used to go out and tip cows for fun, how all the girls stand up when they sing, how they will always respect you and if you get lonely they will be there to sex you. And to tell you the truth, I am really enjoying this time I have with the Red Album as a less popular disc. Nothing turns me off to a song that I like as much as going to a party and seeing some douche playing it on a Costco Yamaha for some douchette. Like I have seen with “The Sweater Song”. Don’t get me wrong, I still like “The Sweater Song”. If I could write a song that cool…oh man…forget Christianity, I would just worship myself.

Also on the album, all of the other band members (Brian, Scott, and Pat) each get a chance to sing a song…I really struggled with this for a long time…but just today as I was thinking about it, I realized that those guys have been breaking their backs to bring me happy musical sensations just as hard as Rivers has been…I owe them my loyalty. And even though the voice might sound different, you gotta know it’s the same Weezer we have all grown to love over the years.

So if you haven’t given it a chance yet, sit down, relax, and listen to the sweet melodies.

I Consider my Spiritual Battery Charged

2008-08-01T17:26:00.000-07:00

This week at church, my bishop spoke to us in Sacrament meeting. I remember only one line from his talk. He was speaking about prayer, and he said “it helps if you imagine that God is listening.” HA HA! And this whole time I was under the impression that he actually was listening. I smiled for the rest of the meeting, it was glorious. It’s interesting to me to see what kind of things my mind holds on too and what kind of things it just lets float on through. Not even for a million dollars could I tell you what the lesson in sunday school was about last month, but I feel confident in assuming that I will laugh about this little jewel of doctrine until my dying day. The church is true ladies and gentlemen, the church is true.

DISCLAIMER: I love the pioneers and recognize there superiority to me in every way.

2008-07-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

I was sitting on my couch thinking about the 24th of July, and it reminded me of one of the fonder memories of my mission. It happened in the MTC. I didn’t have any scriptures when I went in, so I bought some from the missionary supply store within the MTC. About a week later, I was reading from them and I noticed that the spine was falling apart. You know, like after a book has been used for 50 years how the cover starts to detach from the pages, yeah, that was happening to the book that I was going to have to carry around with me for the next long two years. I initially wasn’t worried at all; I just planned on taking it back in to the store, and getting a new set. That wasn’t too unreasonable of a request was it? I mean, all of “Babylon’s” stores do it…Wal-Mart, Costco, Spencer’s Gifts…those guys are all about the store credit, all about the customer…I guess I figured that in the very heart of “Zion” I would be able to do the same, and maybe even get a free highlighter just for the inconvenience of it all…but what can I say, I guess I’ve always been a dreamer with unreal expectations.

I took the book in. The clerk took a quick look at it and then proceeded into the back of the store. A few moments later he came back with my book, around which was a brand new rubber band. The attendant then explained to me that he had applied a generous amount of extra high quality Elmer’s Glue to the spine. (Actually it was just normal Elmer’s Glue, and as far as I know, just the normal amount was applied). He told me to put some weights on it for the next few days, and then not to open it too wide for the rest of my mortal life. There it was, problem solved, the spine was fine, the work of the Lord went unhindered, no unhallowed hand can stop it, and all thanks to a little bit of Elmer’s Glue and a whole lot economic decision making.

You may be asking “what does any of this have to do with the 24th of July or pioneers?” Let me tell you. I of course said nothing to the store clerk, it just seemed so much easier to smile and hide my rage and contempt for this man’s life behind a facade of charity and christianity. It was when I got back to my room with my three missionary roommates that the proverbial shit hit the fan. I started in on how Mormons are nothing but a bunch of bloodsucking businessmen. Now mind you, I was very upset, and said a lot of things in a much more exaggerated and severe tone than maybe they ought to have been said in. One of the many insults that came out of my mouth was that it was not wonder to me why the Mormons were driven out of the every state they ever settled in, because they were arrogant, stingy, elmers glue usin’, Indian lovers. (I have nothing against Indians;I actually have a few Native American friends. However, it is actually a historical fact that the saints received much persecution because of their compassion on the Natives).

At this point, my 5 foot tall roommate just couldn’t take anymore “slander” of his noble ancestors. (FYI, There my ancestors too ya dimwit, I’m just letting off some steam!) He got in my face about how terrible I was, and how wonderful those saints were who crossed the plains, and how I had better get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness before I got sent home. I can’t remember what I said exactly, but I do distinctly remember mocking him at some point during all of this drama by doing an imitation of him, throwing a tantrum and crying like a small child. Anyway…that’s the story.

The last week of my stay at the MTC, I had an Interview with my teacher…I don’t remember much of what he said, but I do remember him explaining how the rest of my life was going to play out. He said “your experience in the MTC will determine your experience in the mission field, your experience in the mission field will determine your experience in life, and your experience in life will determine your experience in eternity”…..well I wish somebody would have explained that to me nine weeks earlier..I might have tried to smile a little bit more. Oh well. This was the same teacher who told me that as a missionary in Chile, I could expect to baptize at least one person a week……….after the first week passed I figured I would just get two the next week, after the first year passed I kind of gave up. I’ve been miserable ever since. Just kidding, but maybe.

Rules Rule.

2008-07-18T13:33:00.000-07:00

I’m a math person. I’m not going to say that I look forward to doing my math homework, but it’s definitely a tasty experience to get done with a problem, flip to the back of the book, and confirm that I am as smart as I like to think I am. On the other hand, I hate English, it bores and frustrates me. This is not to say that I hate writing, I like writing, it’s a nice distraction from my mundane and often slow moving life. However, I hate…nay, I LOATH studying punctuation and proper grammar, and I almost killed myself when I had to read Grapes of Wrath in high school. That book is a lame story about a lame family living in a lame time period. Why we couldn’t read Jurassic Park or Jaws is beyond me…(I actually did read Jurassic Park, it was great, I also tried to read Jaws…but I was only a young lad, and apparently, the only appropriate thing to say when a person sees a shark is the F-word, and believe me, there are a lot of sharks in that book. My Innocent and overly developed conscience just couldn’t take it…..I’ve come a long way since then….a really long F-ing way.)

My ability to do math has led me to conclude that I do not hate English because I am not mentally capable, but rather, it must be something else. I think that I hate English because, unlike math, it’s too subjective, the teacher has too much influence on the grade. Also, mathematical rules are discovered, where as rules of grammar are invented. In math, there is always a rule, and I like the feeling of control that gives me. If I did the problem right and got marked wrong, I have reason to complain and be angry. If I did the problem wrong, then I have nobody to be mad at but myself....and my parents...but anyway. All of this talk about rules brings me to purpose for writing this blog…The rules of "Text Battle."

“Text Battling” refers to the activity of two people, conversing through means of instant text messaging, and there are, or at least should be, rules of engagement. While these rules apply to Same-Sex Text battles, they are infinitely more important in the co-ed branch of the sport.

Though at times these rules may seem petty and meaningless, they must be laid out and understood by all parties involved, otherwise, feelings of resentment and hurt will develop (feelings very similar to those that come when you get an English paper back with a low grade because it didn’t match the taste of the teacher).

I think the best way to approach these rules would be with an example followed by analysis.

Example:

(While the characters and conversations in this story are fictional, they are based on real events)

Jane: Hey, what are you up to tonight?

Bobby: I might go to a movie, do you want to come?

Jane: LOL! Sure! That would be great.

Bobby: do you want a ride, or should I just save seat.

15 minutes pass

Bobby: Did your keypad break?

10 minutes later

Bobby: Wow.

2 hours later

Bobby: you missed a great movie, what happened?

2 days later

Jane: how was the movie?

Bobby: You treat me like crap.

The Rules

1st: Jane initiated, but obviously is not interested in bobby, while it is apparent to all parties involved that bobby is interested in Jane. This is hurtful and against the rules.

2nd: No bailing out of a text battle on a question, bobby knew Jane had her phone on her, she always does, it was a blatant act of meanness and confidence shattering disregard.

3rd: LOL is lame; also, the placement of it doesn’t have a clear meaning at all. Is Jane laughing at the concept of going to a movie with Bobby, or does she just get overly excited about movies. Either way, I doubt she is really Laughing out Loud. This is against the rules

4th: Once more than 4 or 5 hours have passed, the battle is over; you can’t just start it up again. Especially if you’re not even going to recognize that you violated the rules of the last battle. I find it very interesting that there is no apology from Jane, and therefore, bobby is left to stew in his anger, and if he lets her know that he is upset, she can just say “well I didn’t realize I did anything wrong”….Well you did do something wrong Jane, you really did.

We could go on, but I will stop it here. When texting, just be nice and try to think of the sad little man with no confidence on the other side of the the conversation.

Plan B

2008-07-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I wrote a politically charged page and a half of blabber. My mom read it, and after a good half an hour of arguing, we both decided that the neither of us were going to change our opinions. I decided that maybe the world wasn’t ready for what I had to say, so I am opting to withhold what I wrote yesterday until a future date, and just type a little something something here to keep my readers (assuming that there are still at least 2 people reading this) occupied.

Also worthy of mention, my mom was so upset by what I had to say, that she suggested that I not post it, for fear that the government would find it and seek its revenge….which would be completely awesome, can you imagine the publicity, I can’t think of a better springboard into a writing career…people all over the nation would hear about “Dallin Shaw…The American Nazi. From Caffeine free Mormon….to radical anarchist overnight.” I would be famous.

I missed my blog last week. There’s never just one reason for that sort of thing happening, but I think a large factor was a very good friend cutting me pretty deep on what I wrote…I’m not going to say the person’s name for the sake of maintaining what friendship there is left between us, also I don’t want to make my blog too customized to any select group of people who might be reading it. Because some of my friends don’t know my other friends, and I don’t want to make one group feel like they are looking in on my life from outside of a window…I guess I could just type in a list of all of my friends, that way, nobody would feel excluded, but I would be just a little too ashamed of the length of such a list, so I guess I will just say that this persons honesty was direct, and somewhat hurtful...but her name is Angie, and she posted her critique as a comment to my blog, so give it a read…I was just kidding about it being hurtful. Angie is cool.

Also, there is no more word verification required in order to make a comment. I also changed a few other things, and now the ability to comment is available to anybody, even those not registered with blogger. I had to hack into the main frame and reprogram some stuff with a little bit of Html and what not, but everything is working great now.

I'm sure you will all agree.

2008-06-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

Well, I wasn’t quite sure if I was gonna pull off another post, but here I am, pretty amazing. I guess the inspiration for this blog came to me as I was sitting in Café Rio (the smell of coffee makes me nauseous, so no Starbucks, sorry) talking with some friends. We were discussing how much I hated the new Indiana Jones movie, and then one of my friends said that they liked it. I quickly rebuked their complete lack of taste, but I obviously didn’t get all of it out of my system because all week I’ve been thinking of all the ridiculous things in that movie, and now I’m letting it all out, so I guess if you haven’t seen the movie and plan on it, stop reading now.

First of all, I’ve looked into it a little bit, and I’m pretty sure gun powder is not magnetic…Wikipedia said it’s made of saltpetre, charcoal, and sulfur…none of which are metals…but whatever, fine, lets say it is magnetic…I doubt it’s magnetic enough to be attracted to a box half a mile away, I hope Harrison in his old age didn’t get a pace maker. He thought that that shaman with his little "kali-ma" bit could do a number on his heart? pa-lease. http://www.omnisio.com/v/tGjfzT2djhG/kali-ma.

Second, since when is the kid from Even Stevens a bad-A biker, they could have done a lot better with that casting job…like maybe Johnny Depp, he’s pretty hot right now…like always. Third, The death of Indiana’s dad…yeah remember that one time when he drank out of that one cup that gives everlasting life….you know…”you have chosen, wisely”…yeah, just a little continuity, that’s all I’m asking. Fourth, I do not care how big an ant is or how many of them there are, they cannot move a human being into their mound…at least not as fast as they did in that movie, but whatever. Fifth, Swinging from vines? Are you kidding me?…laughable. Sixth, no Short Round.

Those are all of the little things, the “stocking stuffers” as I like to think of them, but now I want to talk about the Nintendo 64 sitting under the Christmas tree over there. Remember the matching game from Sesame Street with the song…”one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong, can you tell me which one is not like the other by the time I am done with this song”?….well lets play that game…here we go…what is out of place…Arc of the Covenant, Sacred stones, Holy Grail.........Magnetic alien skull made out of crystal. Wow. I seriously didn’t understand what was going on when they introduced the skull in the movie…I thought it was gonna be some little side story or something…but it wasn’t, it was it, it was the plot, it is what I waited months for, it is what I paid ten dollars for, and it is now what I am writing this blog for. Seriously Steven, you had enough money to hire the hottest actor ever to be produced by the Disney channel, but you couldn’t afford a plot. Hey maybe George Lucas will produce a movie where Luke Skywalker and Brendan Fraser go dig up some mummies in north east asia, and then maybe Quentin Terantino will make a movie that actually makes sense, but I doubt it. Whatever, I especially enjoyed the flying saucer scene at the end, it sent shivers up my spine.

"it's my first time!"

2008-06-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

Blog blog blog. What is “blog”? What is “to blog”? Up until the past few weeks I’ve never really felt any sort of need to ask these questions…but I guess loneliness has driven me to worse things. I’ve actually never even read a blog let alone written one. I guess part of the reason for my extreme lack of bloggage is my extreme lack of self confidence. I credit this largely to my parents. Also, I have trouble with people. I credit this largely to my face. I don’t even feel secure enough to make a comment about Jesus in my Sunday School class…and he loves everybody from what I understand. Another reason I haven’t ever blogged is just because of the nature of writing. It is so much less personal than a real conversation. I guess what I mean is that when I write, I feel much more comfortable saying things that I would never say to a person’s face. It’s like because they are not here in front of me now, I feel like I can say whatever I want about them or about myself. I learned this feature about myself when I got back from my mission. I read through some of my letters…never gonna do that again…the mission or the letters. Just kidding…but maybe.

As I was writing this, I decided that before I got too far into it, I should pick out a name for my blog. Only one of them made the cut, but here is a list of the unchosen candidates.

dallinsblog.com

dallinstendermercies.com

welcometomymind.com

imnotmeanjustsad.com

ifihadfriendsthisiswhatiwouldtellthem.com

justkiddingbutmaybe.com

youcanreadbutyoucantunderstand.com

thisismybrainonline.com

prettycrappy.com

dallinwrotethis.com

ifiwritewillyouread.com

justkiddingbutseriously.com

dontthinklessofme.com

foolsmockbuttheyshallmourn.com

blogblogblog.com

dallinshitsgoldeveryweekonhisblog.com (Dallin S. hits gold every week on his blog)