*****The following is an e-mail that I sent out today, but I wanted to share it more openly*****
To all my friends,
I rarely every send out an e-mail to the vast majority of my mailing list, I do it today because I'm worried. Not about the "Reagan Coalition", or that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but that we are not looking with a critical eye at the people who are vying to become the next President of our country. This election season we've seen some of the most shameful examples of the "Politics of Personal Destruction", from Hillary and Bill Clinton overtly playing the race card, to last week John McCain so distorted Mitt Romney's words that news papers that had endorsed him called him on it. The scariest part of this to me is that we as a country have become so divided that we can't even see the things that make us the same.
In during World War II, before the U.S.'s official involvement, there were several groups that openly apposed our joining of the war. Some of them were sympathetic to the Socialist aspects of Germanys NAZI party, while most of them were just Pacifists that opposed violence in any form. It was important for all sides to be heard, it was even more important for us to support our country while we were at war. During WWII the film industry in Hollywood cranked out pro-American films as fast as they could. How many films have come out in the last seven years that bare a patriotic pro-USA, pro-Military message? How many that have an anti-USA or anti-Military message? Though there were many people in the film industry whose political ideologies were much more in line with those of the National Socialist movement, they adopted the attitude of a family.
My brother and I used to beat the pulp out of each other at the slightest provocation, but if anyone else tried to beat my brother up they had to go through me too. That is the way I feel about this country. I may not agree with your politics or the candidate that you are planning on voting for, but I will fight for your right to make those decisions. I will continue to stand by our soldiers in the Middle East, the same way I stood by them in every other conflict that they have been in.
As for the person who eventually becomes the 44th President of the United States of America, I have just a quick thing to say to you. While I may be frustrated by decisions you will make (that goes for either party), I respect you, because I respect the office. Be worthy of that respect, live your life in a moral and decent way. Treat your fellow man with respect for their hard work, and remember just because you can do something doesn't make it right.
Sincerely,
Michael Skembo
1.31.2008
1.29.2008
Adventure continued...
As I woke the next morning I noticed the first rays of sunlight streaming into the room. I stood beside the bed and stretched out the soreness that I had acquired during the previous days drive, and started to take in my surroundings. It was a very plush room, probably referred to as a suite by the hotel since it did have a sitting area. The decor was classic, and unobtrusive. On the sofa in the sitting room there was a package with my name on it. I eyed it suspiciously for a minute wondering why I hadn't heard someone entering my room and leaving it, but ultimately decided it didn't matter and opened it up.
The package contained clothes. Nothing too fancy, just jeans a button up shirt, shoes and a leather jacket. I set the clothes aside and went to the bathroom to take care of the three S's. On the counter laid a selection of toiletries, and a note.
"Pack a dop kit, you still have more to do."
I packed my kit, and went in to get dressed, starting to notice more details. The suit that I had worn to work the previous day was hanging up and looked freshly pressed as did my shirt and shoes. I contemplated the effort that was being put in while I dressed. They had done a pretty good job shopping for me. The clothes fit, even the shoes, and the jacket was soft and inviting. As I slipped the jacket on the phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered attentively.
"Good morning Mr. Skembo" Replied the vaguely familiar voice. "When you are ready to continue please come up to the penthouse."
"I'll be there in just a minute."
The past few evening finally started to come back, the strange man, Whitlowe I think. And of course the rapid trip to Denver in that fine piece of machinery. I could get used to driving a car like that.
The phone rang again.
"Hello"
"A slight change of plans, go downstairs and retrieve your car. We will have the navigation system set up for you. Meet us at that destination."
"My car?" Came the question.
"Yes, the Lamborghini, it is yours now, congratulations."
"Oh! Thanks" Escaped my stunned reply
"I am not the one to thank; you will meet some of the benefactors at your destination. Please do not delay too much, they are not patient people."
"Oh, ok on my way."
The line went dead, and I grabbed my belongings and headed for the door.
After a quick stop by the front desk arranging for my suit to be sent back to my home I went out to front to valet stand. They were already waiting for me, door open and engine running. I slipped in behind the wheel and started driving. The traffic was light as the navigation system guided me onto I-25 south. I didn't pay a great deal of attention to where I was heading until I started to see the tell tale signs of a municipal airport. Sure enough the signs for Centennial Airport showed up, and I drove on.
As my navigation system said I reached my destination, I looked around. There was one hanger that had an unusual number of very expensive cars around it, and I guessed that was where I should go. As I pulled up outside of the hanger I saw ole Whatshisname standing there waiting for me. I walked over to him and he gave me a wry smile.
"This will get more challenging with every day." He said his tone conversational, "Just remember, what you have is yours, don't be afraid to quit."
"Thanks" I said sincerely. I was starting to feel very alone in this.
We walked toward the cracked hanger door; one look told me what the next challenge would be.
The package contained clothes. Nothing too fancy, just jeans a button up shirt, shoes and a leather jacket. I set the clothes aside and went to the bathroom to take care of the three S's. On the counter laid a selection of toiletries, and a note.
"Pack a dop kit, you still have more to do."
I packed my kit, and went in to get dressed, starting to notice more details. The suit that I had worn to work the previous day was hanging up and looked freshly pressed as did my shirt and shoes. I contemplated the effort that was being put in while I dressed. They had done a pretty good job shopping for me. The clothes fit, even the shoes, and the jacket was soft and inviting. As I slipped the jacket on the phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered attentively.
"Good morning Mr. Skembo" Replied the vaguely familiar voice. "When you are ready to continue please come up to the penthouse."
"I'll be there in just a minute."
The past few evening finally started to come back, the strange man, Whitlowe I think. And of course the rapid trip to Denver in that fine piece of machinery. I could get used to driving a car like that.
The phone rang again.
"Hello"
"A slight change of plans, go downstairs and retrieve your car. We will have the navigation system set up for you. Meet us at that destination."
"My car?" Came the question.
"Yes, the Lamborghini, it is yours now, congratulations."
"Oh! Thanks" Escaped my stunned reply
"I am not the one to thank; you will meet some of the benefactors at your destination. Please do not delay too much, they are not patient people."
"Oh, ok on my way."
The line went dead, and I grabbed my belongings and headed for the door.
After a quick stop by the front desk arranging for my suit to be sent back to my home I went out to front to valet stand. They were already waiting for me, door open and engine running. I slipped in behind the wheel and started driving. The traffic was light as the navigation system guided me onto I-25 south. I didn't pay a great deal of attention to where I was heading until I started to see the tell tale signs of a municipal airport. Sure enough the signs for Centennial Airport showed up, and I drove on.
As my navigation system said I reached my destination, I looked around. There was one hanger that had an unusual number of very expensive cars around it, and I guessed that was where I should go. As I pulled up outside of the hanger I saw ole Whatshisname standing there waiting for me. I walked over to him and he gave me a wry smile.
"This will get more challenging with every day." He said his tone conversational, "Just remember, what you have is yours, don't be afraid to quit."
"Thanks" I said sincerely. I was starting to feel very alone in this.
We walked toward the cracked hanger door; one look told me what the next challenge would be.
1.28.2008
Another Day another $$$
Today is just another day. It is a little depressing actually. I think about people hundreds of years ago, and all of the stuff we have that they didn't. Sure I love my Blackberry, air-conditioning, and pillowtop mattress, but I wish life had an adventure or two thrown in for good measure.
So here is my ideal adventure.
The wind was blowing under dreary skies as I walked down the long tunnel toward Union Station. It had been a day that was about the best I could say for it. No one yelled, all the network hardware worked. I had been free to sit at my desk working quietly most of the time. Of course this stinking walk to my car was making the day last even longer.
As I reached the elevator a man I hadn't met before said "Hello". I replied in kind thinking nothing of it, then he said these words.
"Do you consider yourself an adventurous man Mr. Skembo?"
I didn't know what to make of the question, but replied to the affirmative, and told a quick anecdote about my friend Erik who calls me a Renaissance Man due to all of the varied interests I have. Then he asked if I would be interested in taking on a challenge. This conversation has gone to a very interesting place.
As we talked he explaned to me the rules. His is Mr. Witlowe, and he represents a group of extraordinarily wealthy and eccentric men. They have decided to place a wager of sorts. I would be asked to drive/pilot a variety of different vessels with very little training, and show some aptitude with them. Whether or not I did so successfully would determine which of these eccentrics became richer. No matter how I performed I would be paid a handsome sum to be the subject of this bet. However if I performed well I would undoubtedly receive more compensation.
I stood in that dimly lit tunnel, my mind racing through the questions that needed to be answered. After receiving satisfactory answers to those questions I accepted. Mr. Witlowe and I boarded the elevator together, and he told me what the first challenge was.
We stepped out of the elevator I saw it. Sparkling in the grey light that the overcast day projected onto it., a Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera. I walked toward the car looking at it like a lustful teenager, Witlowe handed me the keys and said very firmly. "Six hours to Denver, you need to be in the penthouse of the Brown Palace hotel by midnight to win." I took the keys and hastened my steps toward the car, and swung the door open. Settling in I adjusted the seat and mirrors, inserted the key and turned it. The V10 roared to life, and I blipped the throttle. I put the Lambo into first gear and eased out on the clutch. We had all evening to get to know each other, no reason to rush things.
Driving quickly I entered I-35 northbound. Called my wife and told her what was going on, I could here the hesitation in her voice as she said "OK", but by that time I was getting further away. As I crossed the state line into Oklahoma I looked at my watch, I had better pick up my pace. I shifted down into fourth, and pushed the throttle to the floor. The engine seemed to howl as the speedometer climbed deeper and deeper into three digits. By the time I reached sixth gear my eyes were glued to the road scared to blink. I gave a sigh of releif as I passed into Kansas, knowing that at least I would be out of the reach of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol. I stopped and gassed up, then got back on the highway, my previouse trips have taught me that it is a long drive through Kansas, taking I-35 to 135, and then treking west on I-70 to Denver.
Seventeen miles per gallon makes this trip a little harder, once you realize that you are low on fuel you have to slow down in order to find a gas station. Luck stays with me allowing me to get all the way to Bloomington, CO without aggravating one single police officer, that I know of. As I start to see the lights from Denver I look down at the clock; 11:28. I punch it taking full advantage of all the horsepower at my disposal. I notice a police care in the center divide, but he is out of view before I can even see if he is able to turn his lights on.
As I exit onto Brighton Blvd and turn left the tires momentarily loose traction, reacting quickly to get it back in line. I keep a steady pace of 95mph down Brighton until I reach 19th street, then I slow down to the 30mph speed limit and swing quickly into the valet. I rush through the lobby and up the elevator, making it to the Penthouse with less than five minutes to spare.
After enjoying a glass of water and a very nice meal I am offered to continue onto the next challenge. I accept and head to my suite for a much needed nights sleep wondering what awaits me tomorrow.
So here is my ideal adventure.
The wind was blowing under dreary skies as I walked down the long tunnel toward Union Station. It had been a day that was about the best I could say for it. No one yelled, all the network hardware worked. I had been free to sit at my desk working quietly most of the time. Of course this stinking walk to my car was making the day last even longer.
As I reached the elevator a man I hadn't met before said "Hello". I replied in kind thinking nothing of it, then he said these words.
"Do you consider yourself an adventurous man Mr. Skembo?"
I didn't know what to make of the question, but replied to the affirmative, and told a quick anecdote about my friend Erik who calls me a Renaissance Man due to all of the varied interests I have. Then he asked if I would be interested in taking on a challenge. This conversation has gone to a very interesting place.
As we talked he explaned to me the rules. His is Mr. Witlowe, and he represents a group of extraordinarily wealthy and eccentric men. They have decided to place a wager of sorts. I would be asked to drive/pilot a variety of different vessels with very little training, and show some aptitude with them. Whether or not I did so successfully would determine which of these eccentrics became richer. No matter how I performed I would be paid a handsome sum to be the subject of this bet. However if I performed well I would undoubtedly receive more compensation.
I stood in that dimly lit tunnel, my mind racing through the questions that needed to be answered. After receiving satisfactory answers to those questions I accepted. Mr. Witlowe and I boarded the elevator together, and he told me what the first challenge was.
We stepped out of the elevator I saw it. Sparkling in the grey light that the overcast day projected onto it., a Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera. I walked toward the car looking at it like a lustful teenager, Witlowe handed me the keys and said very firmly. "Six hours to Denver, you need to be in the penthouse of the Brown Palace hotel by midnight to win." I took the keys and hastened my steps toward the car, and swung the door open. Settling in I adjusted the seat and mirrors, inserted the key and turned it. The V10 roared to life, and I blipped the throttle. I put the Lambo into first gear and eased out on the clutch. We had all evening to get to know each other, no reason to rush things.
Driving quickly I entered I-35 northbound. Called my wife and told her what was going on, I could here the hesitation in her voice as she said "OK", but by that time I was getting further away. As I crossed the state line into Oklahoma I looked at my watch, I had better pick up my pace. I shifted down into fourth, and pushed the throttle to the floor. The engine seemed to howl as the speedometer climbed deeper and deeper into three digits. By the time I reached sixth gear my eyes were glued to the road scared to blink. I gave a sigh of releif as I passed into Kansas, knowing that at least I would be out of the reach of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol. I stopped and gassed up, then got back on the highway, my previouse trips have taught me that it is a long drive through Kansas, taking I-35 to 135, and then treking west on I-70 to Denver.
Seventeen miles per gallon makes this trip a little harder, once you realize that you are low on fuel you have to slow down in order to find a gas station. Luck stays with me allowing me to get all the way to Bloomington, CO without aggravating one single police officer, that I know of. As I start to see the lights from Denver I look down at the clock; 11:28. I punch it taking full advantage of all the horsepower at my disposal. I notice a police care in the center divide, but he is out of view before I can even see if he is able to turn his lights on.
As I exit onto Brighton Blvd and turn left the tires momentarily loose traction, reacting quickly to get it back in line. I keep a steady pace of 95mph down Brighton until I reach 19th street, then I slow down to the 30mph speed limit and swing quickly into the valet. I rush through the lobby and up the elevator, making it to the Penthouse with less than five minutes to spare.
After enjoying a glass of water and a very nice meal I am offered to continue onto the next challenge. I accept and head to my suite for a much needed nights sleep wondering what awaits me tomorrow.
1.24.2008
Win one for the Gipper
The people in my office are having their annual weight loss contest. Since this is my first year here, I have valiantly thrown caution to the wind, and my hat in the ring. Here are the ground rules. Everyone pays $10 and weighs in, and then has to lose 10 lbs by the 15th of Febuary. If you are among the people who are able to lose 10 lbs by the 15th then you can take your share of the winnings and go buy a Whataburger double-meat with cheese, or you can double down, throw in another 10 spot and maintain for a month.
First things first. I could probably lose the weight by the specified time if all I did was cut the Dr. Peppers out of my diet. If I also started to moderate my food intake then I could probably drop even more. Of course excercise is a double edged sword for me. I would definitely loose the fat, but my body likes to pack on muscle, and we all know that it weighs more than fat.
Either way Janika is getting a sexier play-thing, and we all know that there is no downside to that.
1.15.2008
Here they are!
Janika did a great job on Friday. She gave birth to two beutiful girls. Anastasia came out weighing 6lbs 2.7oz, and measuring 17.25in long. Amelia topped both numbers at 6lbs 3oz, and 19in long. All said and done, Janika was carrying 12.5lbs of baby! Pretty impressive stuff.
I know what you are thinking... who cares about the stats, give me pictures! Well, here you go.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/22867883@N06/show/?no_back=1
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