So did you remember to do your blog today? No, goddammit, I didn't! Apparently not. No indeed. Not until I have gorged myself on on countless Snackwell's chocolate cookie cakes, no. Ah, but it's terrible. I still have the old swirly feeling in my head and not much else in my stomach except air, that threatens to blow itself so hard out of my asshole so as to turn my asshole inside out. What would that look like? A little ass hat? I suppose. Hmm.

So a lot of bloggers write upon the NEWS and some lovely lovely shit like that ... well I have some NEWS for all of you, yes ... it appears that all hell has broken loose in that rotten estuary they call CAPE CORAL ... well, as if it wasn't already a rotten vision of hell anyway, where the hounds of hell snarl and drool and foam rabidly at the mouth while they charge mightily through platted lot after platted lot, until finally they become stuck in traffic on Del Prado, turn onto the Midpoint Bridge Municipal Parking Lot, crawl behind a dump truck for an hour and are greeted with a hand and a sharp demand for a dollar, whereupon they bite off the hand and the arm, leaving only a screaming toll worker with a gusher of blood where there had once been a state-mandated toll-taking arm ... for this misery we could only hope, my friends. So it is that upon this rotten estuary sits IDA S. BAKER HIGH SCHOOL, where teenagers are rounded up and told all kinds of lies and mistruths about man and god and law 180 days out of the year, instead of being allowed to smoke pot and fuck each others' brains out, as is their wont and most natural, shall we say, POSITION. Speaking of positions and fucking your brains out, it looks like two Ida Baker teachers were experimenting with a few of the former while doing the latter. In other words, two high school teachers have been caught fucking in the classroom and we've got all kinds of dirty e-mails to prove it. Which, by the way, I highly encourage. Except when you're married.

(And, as a side note ... for the love of god, don't write dirty e-mails on from a work address you fucking goobers! Get a yahoo account, so you can have an address like bigsack6969@yahoo.com AND maintain your job and your privacy in the process. Everybody with a fucking brain should know this by now.)

To think, I missed out on all that!

Check out the guys in the top bar here. You could have just gone ahead and stuck my mug up there, circa year 10 to 15 in sports journalism. Yet more affirmation I made the right call abandoning this career when I did.

As the democracy turns ...

So American Idol contestant Melinda Doolittle believes the slightly older age of her fans hurt her during voting the other night:

"Doolittle credited finalists Blake Lewis and Jordin Sparks as 'two amazing contestants' and said her older base of supporters may not have votes as often as younger fans.

'They may not spend a full two hours voting, and that's OK," she said." (USA Today, Friday, May 18)

If anyone doesn't think the willingness of 18- to 21-year-olds to vote for American Idol candidates for two hours at a time and reluctance to vote even once for a presidential candidate isn't as great an indictment of the American democracy as there ever could be, you're dead wrong. This is a huge problem. Voting for government offices must be streamlined and made more efficient to fit life in the 21st century. The idea that you cannot register on election day is preposterous. Let's have same-day voter registration. Now.

Lee County hates non-whites

Disgusting racism in today's News-Press

"... Hispanics and blacks have a significantly lower high school graduation rate than whites; Hispanic and black males have a significantly higher incarceration rate than whites; and a significantly higher percentage of black women have children out of wedlock and are single parents (making it difficult for them to work) ..."

- RICHARD KOBZA
Cape Coral

"If a person would rather hip-hop, flip-flop, or rip-rap rather than study, and ends up with no education or social promotion, then that is the result of his or her decision, not the responsibility of society. In fact, it is obvious that Bigelow has a real social and moral problem himself. Who in the world elected this weirdo anyway."

- SID NEWTON
Estero

Here's what I have to say regarding Lee County Commissioner Bob Bigelow's study on diversity in county government, and the response thereto:

I simply cannot comprehend why anyone would argue with Lee County's need for more diversity in government. Cape Coral resident Richard Kobza in his May 12 letter argues that representation should be based upon the racial makeup of the qualified labor pool instead of the community as a whole. He asserts that because Hispanic and black males have a higher incarceration rate than their white counterparts, and because more black women have children out of wedlock and are single parents, it means there are fewer qualified applicants. What a bunch of old bullshit! A white-dominated power structure jails an appalling number of black youths and denies them the educational opportunities that the pale-faced sons and daughters of the white elite are handed, and you try to tell me there are more white people with better-looking resumes? Well, of course there are! Look, the idea behind being proactive in getting a representative number of people from traditionally oppressed racial backgrounds into government is so that their voices, heretofore not given a chance to be heard in the halls of leadership in this country, may finally ring in the halls of power. It's not about promoting the same silver-spoonfed white people again and again. It's about separating ourselves from a past marked by a legacy of slavery, Jim Crow, and a dogged fight for equal rights represented by vacant bus seats, firehoses, and slain leaders a scant 40 or so years ago, when so many in this county were alive to see it.

It's also about taking down that disgusting painting of Robert E. Lee from the commission chambers and taking the long overdue step of changing the county's appalling name. The audacity of a keeping a place named after such a divisive figure can be tolerated not a moment longer. Kudos to Brian Bigelow for his tireless research efforts and his willingness to speak out, and may he be possessed with the courage to take these next and necessary steps.

Hello and welcome

Hi,

My name is Chuck and this is my new blog called "Time stops for no one." I named it that because it's the truest statement in the universe ... a universe which, oh by the way, controls time. Only no one controls the universe. The universe controls itself, thank you very much, and isn't going to start listening to you, or anyone else, no matter how much money or power you have. And so the king, just like the peasant, is going to die. It's just a matter of time.

I'll be writing about a number of things here, only I don't know the precise number of things I'll be getting to yet. Someday, just like the kings and the peasants, I'll be dead, and I'll have to stop blogging, and someone can come along and count the number of things I blogged about. It's just a matter of time. That is, if someone takes the time. They might not, and, in fact, no one may count the number of things I blog about until the end of time. Only there is no end of time ... the universe is infinite, and it will continue to expand and contract, just as it always has, forever. So maybe we'll have an answer as to the number of things I'll blog about. And maybe we won't. That's OK. We're all going to die anyway.

How's that for a "Serenity Prayer"? Well, unlike Christianity, it keeps me serene. Christianity, like most religions, is engineered by the people in charge of it to delude the followers into thinking you get to stick around after you die, and there's a magical, mystical parallel universe that nobody sees and hears about where someone who has infinite powers is keeping score to determine where people go when their life in the regular universe ends. And the religious leaders do this so that they can keep the believers in line however they want under the impression they have to get a good score and advance to the next round. Sorta like a game show.

And so we won't be worshiping Bob Barker or Regis Philbin or Jesus around here. Instead I'll just be writing about whatever comes to my mind, and you'll be reading it. Or not, if you or I get hit by a bus tomorrow. Hey, that bus driver's not gonna stop just because you're trying to cross the street. It's next stop isn't for three more intersections, and it's got to get downtown by 3:15. And unlike the bus, time stops for no one.