Songs, Blogs...a SongBlog!

It's time to turn over a new leaf, find a new frog, buy a better brand of Braunschweiger, whatever. Therefore, in that spirit, I think I'm going to start a SongBlog. I can write songs at the drop of a hat (why a hat?). Not that they're necessarily listenable, but they still qualify as a sort of music. Write a song, post it, move on to the next one. Heck. There are so many issues and ideas out there that I don't suppose I'll ever run out of topics.

Government finances, Hollywood, Islam, environmentalism, farming, trade and tariffs, taxes, cosmetics made from rendered fetuses, the Crimean War, Spam (and spam), home-cooked food, USA/Mexico border issues, transfats, Whole Foods and their wildly over-priced whatnots, academia, religion...oh, and did I say environmentalism?

Joy...

Gross Polluter

...and now my poor old Volvo has just qualified as a "gross polluter." Yep. Didn't pass the smog test. They're coming to arrest me tomorrow, no doubt.

57$...No, 68$

Aargh. I just noticed that I'm late in getting my car smogged. Now I'll have to pay 68$ instead of 57$.

California gets you coming and going with taxes. I think we're in the top 5 states for highest taxes.

Taxation is a rum issue. The Bible says that you must pay your taxes. Period. Okay. I guess that's non-negotiable. But what do you when you're paying into a system of fraudulent waste, ridiculous expenditures and plain old evil projects (I regard the government funding abortion here and abroad as evil, and I also believe that much of the welfare system is essentially evil - so sue me)?

System change. That's what we need.

Sundays In Monterey

After church, we packed up the kid and headed to the beach in Monterey. It was a first for him and he seemed rather impressed with the waves, though not intimidated (which is a good sign, as his mom is determined to turn him into a world-class sailor).

I must say, living in California has its downsides in terms of cost of living, but having the beach nearby is wonderful.

We strolled on over to Jamba Juice later in the afternoon for one of our few chain-store vices. While sitting and sipping outside, my wife uttered what had to be the oddest metaphor of the day: "Would you look at those tight-jeans - her legs look like sausages forced into intestinal casings."

I really didn't have a response.