Oh, what an absolutely astounding, breathtaking, sumptuous day! On such a graet braw deh as this one can't help but ponder the Creator--and that he gifted men to invent a wonderful little disk to express their enjoyment. Praise be to the Lord--we've got the circle back! and delightfully manicured as well. However, such things must wait upon the likes of papers, quizzes, exams, and readings. No matter; I've now got something quite addicting to look forward to. I wonder who all is reading this. It does cause me to wonder at times whether or not this is indeed a worthwhile endevour because how can one have a public journal? Journal's (at least in my mind) are somewhat in the private sector; one doesn't write the most interesting and fascinating stuff in a journal that is to be left open for the first inquisitive person to peer into and read. It would seem that I need to find some interesting points to add to my journal without compromising my pride, ego, or other such things that are near and dear to me. Let us begin then with a story...of...oh...let's say, Jomoe before he was known as such.
In the early and distant years of my youth I was granted the privilege of having (for the space of one year) an older sister. There is nothing strange in this except that up until that point I had been the oldest child in my house (five boys, one girl at the end) and the general rule is "once an oldest, always an oldest." Or at least so I believed. Christy Richards was a wonderful person and entered into my families acquaintance through the need to find a place to stay while completing her Masters program at NASA facility at Langley AFB, VA. She visited our church for a few weeks and, after getting to know us, my folks offered her our spare bedroom in the basement of our house. My first reaction was confusion--was my station in life not stable? The second was intense interest in the potential for pranks (having never had an older sister I had to make up for lost time). I soon found an opportunity.
Christy liked coffee, as did most people in my house. However, she used her own sugar supply and a trick my Dad had shared with my popped into my head. I had been told that Alum, a pickling agent, was almost undetectable by sight when mixed with sugar. Needless to say, I dumped almost the entire container of Alum in Christy's sugar. The next morning I felt horrible when I heard Christy complain about her coffee the last evening. She said it had curdled the milk she had added to it (a factor I had not taken into account) and had nearly frozen her jaw, since she had taken a sip before discovering the curdled milk. I couldn't quite bring myself to tell her what happened, and so the next morning it happened again, and this time I felt slightly less sympathy for her. The third time I was beginning to see the real humor in the thing, but then my dad accidentally used some of Christy's sugar. As you can well imagine, he figured out right away what the problem was and an FBI (Family Bureau of Investigation) was called. It would have been alright if I hadn't burst out laughing in the middle of it, and so consequently I received speedy adn direct revalation concerning the error of my ways. And so with this I hope that you are now slightly more enlightened (or perhaps not) concerning Life through the Eyes of Jomoe.

Democracy is like a delicate flower--leave it in Nash for an extended period of time and it will wither and die. At least that is what I, as a member of the Election Commission, am beginning to feel. There is a serene beauty in the grace of a benevolent tyrant; no fear of uprisings, no 'letter of intent' issues, no power sharing, a visible presence of the head of state--in essence: bliss. Coup or no, it still would be a beautiful thing, and has been growing on me of late. :~) Ah, rambling, what a wonderful exercise. Clears the head, rejuvenate the fingers, and vents angst. This is indeed a good thing, this Bloge or Bloog or whatever. Should do this more often, and what with the Liberty Ball, I may just have to wax eloquent.