Greetings Lobolians
Many a moon has come and gone and been howled at, and yet this blog has gone wistfully silent. For that, you have my deepest apologies.
Much entered my life with each new moon, and this blog unfortunately failed to keep up with the tides that rushed through those months, silencing it as it had never before been silenced. If all goes as I hope that it does, such will not happen again, for I will do all I can to make this a weekly endevour, just as it once was.
To help this, I shall create now weekly topics to cover. Each month we shall meet the little boy by the campfire. He is older than when we first met the charming young child, for as you all aged around me, he aged too. Therefore, it is only fitting that you be reintroduced during one of these posts.
Also, I think its time we introduced somebody else. Some of you may remembered Vera from long, long ago, when she and Albert came to visit this blog, and discuss, they too will be coming back. At some point in the future, they may meet the boy, and none will forget the experience.
In addition, of course, we have the regular rants, the quiet chats, and the eternal musings of a Roman Wolf.
So thank you for returning.
Roman Wolf
9.12.2009
4.13.2009
A Westing Rabbit
Wow, tis been awhile, hasn't it, my Lobolians? But nevermind, nevermind, I am posting again.
Its almost spring, I have written this for three years, and now once again we celebrated the festival of rebirth known in some circles as Easter. But that is beside the point, because it is past. However, I did recieve this e-mail today, which i think i will share because its rather humorous.::
A lady opened her refrigerator and saw a rabbit sitting on one of the shelves.
"What are you doing in there?"
She asked.
The rabbit replied:
"This is a Westinghouse, isn't it?",
To which the lady replied
"Yes."
"Well," the rabbit said, "I'm westing." ::
Whatever westing is supposed to mean is beyond me, but for her sake I hope it is not the act of finding a rabbit of the opposite sex, and producing baby rabbits.
Its almost spring, I have written this for three years, and now once again we celebrated the festival of rebirth known in some circles as Easter. But that is beside the point, because it is past. However, I did recieve this e-mail today, which i think i will share because its rather humorous.::
A lady opened her refrigerator and saw a rabbit sitting on one of the shelves.
"What are you doing in there?"
She asked.
The rabbit replied:
"This is a Westinghouse, isn't it?",
To which the lady replied
"Yes."
"Well," the rabbit said, "I'm westing." ::
Whatever westing is supposed to mean is beyond me, but for her sake I hope it is not the act of finding a rabbit of the opposite sex, and producing baby rabbits.
12.14.2008
Well, I havent written here for awhile, now, have I? My Lobolians, I apologize for the wait, but we all know what a fierce election cycle does to the hard working blogger. I have rested, and now I am back.
But without politics, what shall I meanderingly discuss here? How about I tell you about fish.
But no, not fish. Something other than fish.
See, this is the thing about blogging after elections. There is nothing quite fun enough to compare with the excitement of election blogs. Sure i can talk about how our economy is shit, and about to get flushed down the toilet by a bunch of liberals in congress, but everyone else talks about that, and unlike them, i am willing to admit that I do not know enough about economics to truly add to the discussions. So I shall refrain.
Arguably, this blog is rapidly becoming pointless. I better give it a point soon.
*sharpens sword*
Each winter we watch the Earth turn from the aged maturation of autumn to the whiteness of death. Like Moby Dick, the ground bleaches itself, turning exposed and white and wet. As humans, we watch this event with glee, call it winter, and grab our shovels and start shoveling. Those in less polar climes than I spend their days wishing they could shovel, because they do not know what it means to shovel, or express glee at the eternal snowfall, or relish the death of the Earth.
But as the Earth dies under the pure whiteness of snow, it continues to turn. As it continues to turn, that dead white shininess dies instead, and the snow turns to rivers of runoff, streaming along the streets, deprived of its natural grass, and makes things wet. In time, the world dries, the streets dry, and all scorches under the tender blaze of summer sunlight. The leaves sprout on the trees and enjoy the prime of their so short lives, before frying themselves golden, collapsing to the ground, and watching the world die again.
there. a point.
Good day to you, my Lobolians
Roman Wolf
But without politics, what shall I meanderingly discuss here? How about I tell you about fish.
But no, not fish. Something other than fish.
See, this is the thing about blogging after elections. There is nothing quite fun enough to compare with the excitement of election blogs. Sure i can talk about how our economy is shit, and about to get flushed down the toilet by a bunch of liberals in congress, but everyone else talks about that, and unlike them, i am willing to admit that I do not know enough about economics to truly add to the discussions. So I shall refrain.
Arguably, this blog is rapidly becoming pointless. I better give it a point soon.
*sharpens sword*
Each winter we watch the Earth turn from the aged maturation of autumn to the whiteness of death. Like Moby Dick, the ground bleaches itself, turning exposed and white and wet. As humans, we watch this event with glee, call it winter, and grab our shovels and start shoveling. Those in less polar climes than I spend their days wishing they could shovel, because they do not know what it means to shovel, or express glee at the eternal snowfall, or relish the death of the Earth.
But as the Earth dies under the pure whiteness of snow, it continues to turn. As it continues to turn, that dead white shininess dies instead, and the snow turns to rivers of runoff, streaming along the streets, deprived of its natural grass, and makes things wet. In time, the world dries, the streets dry, and all scorches under the tender blaze of summer sunlight. The leaves sprout on the trees and enjoy the prime of their so short lives, before frying themselves golden, collapsing to the ground, and watching the world die again.
there. a point.
Good day to you, my Lobolians
Roman Wolf
10.15.2008
Life is but a dream
As the firelight danced in front of his eyes, the little boy snuggled closely to his mother, a soft smile crossing his tender little face. His mother smiled back at him and thought he had best be getting to bed, but he shook himself awake and looked at his mom questioningly.
Mother, what is wrong with black people? He asked, his eyes cocked with innocent confusion.
His mother was flustered and didn't know what to think. Of all the questions the boy had ever asked, this one confused her more than any.
Nothing. She said, with the firmness of a white midwesterner on race issues.
Then why did that man say Barack Obama was a terrorist and unamerican? They said he was black and an arab. What's wrong with Arabs?
His mother's eyes were wide and she barely knew what to say.
Is it wrong to be a black or an arab mother? The little boy asked, wondering why his mom refused to answer his questions. She'd always given him answers before, no matter what he asked. He was so confused.
No, of course not. She said quickly, stoking the campfire to hide her discomfort.
But then why did that man say those things?
The mother cringed to hear the question asked with such sweet tones. She couldn't bring herself to speak. Instead she let the flames shoot higher and higher towards the sky.
Lets sing a campfire song! She said, holding his hands and singing, row row row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream...
The little boy frowned but sang along, his light and happy voice carrying through the woods and ringing in the darkness.
....Life is but a dream...
Mother, what is wrong with black people? He asked, his eyes cocked with innocent confusion.
His mother was flustered and didn't know what to think. Of all the questions the boy had ever asked, this one confused her more than any.
Nothing. She said, with the firmness of a white midwesterner on race issues.
Then why did that man say Barack Obama was a terrorist and unamerican? They said he was black and an arab. What's wrong with Arabs?
His mother's eyes were wide and she barely knew what to say.
Is it wrong to be a black or an arab mother? The little boy asked, wondering why his mom refused to answer his questions. She'd always given him answers before, no matter what he asked. He was so confused.
No, of course not. She said quickly, stoking the campfire to hide her discomfort.
But then why did that man say those things?
The mother cringed to hear the question asked with such sweet tones. She couldn't bring herself to speak. Instead she let the flames shoot higher and higher towards the sky.
Lets sing a campfire song! She said, holding his hands and singing, row row row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream...
The little boy frowned but sang along, his light and happy voice carrying through the woods and ringing in the darkness.
....Life is but a dream...
10.11.2008
The 2nd Annual Fall Issue
Greetings Lobolians
Last year around this time I regaled you all with a bit of mindless chatter about pumpkins. After all, theres only so much politicing I can fit into one blog. And I think, like the campfire boy, theres a great deal of import to be placed on the occasion piece of soft news.
This is the time of year that the Earth shifts its direction, so that the southern reaches are bathed in the fullness of Sol's light, and the northern ones take their turn in cold darkness.
In honor of this, as they do each year, the trees bow their heads and offer the ground their leaves. First, they transform them into the most brilliant colors. Oaks blow their greenery off in a burst of flame, the gentle green leaves transforming themselves into fiery reds, eye catching oranges, tender golds. The leaves are then shed from the branches, turning them brown and bare but bathing the roots in a show of glory such as they only know once a year.
When the trees have cast all their noble leaves from their arms, the Earth is ready for winter. Snow trickles from the sky, painlessly at first, melting once it touches the browning ground. But bit by bit the flakes freeze the leafy ground, transforming it into a white kaleidescope of drifts and sheets.
And so it goes for all those long months of winter. Eventually, however, the Earth changes her face again, giving the north back its sunlight. The snow retreats, the leaves regrow, and the green grass peaks out from beneath the frost-bitten brown.
:)
Have a nice day Lobolians.
Roman Wolf
Last year around this time I regaled you all with a bit of mindless chatter about pumpkins. After all, theres only so much politicing I can fit into one blog. And I think, like the campfire boy, theres a great deal of import to be placed on the occasion piece of soft news.
This is the time of year that the Earth shifts its direction, so that the southern reaches are bathed in the fullness of Sol's light, and the northern ones take their turn in cold darkness.
In honor of this, as they do each year, the trees bow their heads and offer the ground their leaves. First, they transform them into the most brilliant colors. Oaks blow their greenery off in a burst of flame, the gentle green leaves transforming themselves into fiery reds, eye catching oranges, tender golds. The leaves are then shed from the branches, turning them brown and bare but bathing the roots in a show of glory such as they only know once a year.
When the trees have cast all their noble leaves from their arms, the Earth is ready for winter. Snow trickles from the sky, painlessly at first, melting once it touches the browning ground. But bit by bit the flakes freeze the leafy ground, transforming it into a white kaleidescope of drifts and sheets.
And so it goes for all those long months of winter. Eventually, however, the Earth changes her face again, giving the north back its sunlight. The snow retreats, the leaves regrow, and the green grass peaks out from beneath the frost-bitten brown.
:)
Have a nice day Lobolians.
Roman Wolf
9.28.2008
Let it break Upon you: Like a Wave upon the Sand
This last weekend, the Roman Wolf was confined to a single room, taken with the constant affliction of the young voter demographic, stuffy nose and sore throat.
As a result, I was reduced to youtube videos and homework. Between those two stimuli, youtube videos were the strongest draw. In the midst of Pocohantas videos (the inspiration of the title) and other disnified time wasters, I found myself clicking on a Sarah Palin interview.
It shamed me. That anybody could be so horribly misinformed and unenlightened about the broader world is a pitiable reality of America life, but I've always hoped that such people were content to sit on their couches drinking bud light and shouting at America's Next Top Model.
Now, I have very little tolerance for religious extremists. Nor do I like stupid responses and unintelligent answers. But I love moose, I think moose meat is delicious. Plus I am a fan of hockey. I state all these things to say that my dislike of Palin is not based off a dislike of hockey, or of moose, or even of Alaska. Alaska is a nice state. Big, open, but cold. Guess nothing is perfect.
My impression of Palin is that she has no curiousity about the world, no drive to look into issues. If a problem comes, she swipes at it, killing it as thoughtlessly as a person kills the mosquito sucking the blood from their arm. In places like Alaska, perhaps you need to be that way towards mosquitoes, but not even Alaska should be governed by base instincts of pain and defense.
The world is more complex than a mosquito bite. Sometimes you get bitten and need to scratch the itch for days on end. Does that mean you take out the DDT and kill all the eagles? Does that mean that you infest people with DEET to fend off the little buggers?
No.
Sometimes, when something hurts, you are a fool to lash out at it. Sometimes you have to look up from the mosquitoes biting your leg to ensure that your food is properly stowed, that your tent is well staked, and that there is no giant grizzly bear rearing up in front of you, ready to take your head off with its paw.
Sometimes you have to be omniscentally aware. Especially if you have the ship of state under your hand and are in charge of guiding it through the trechery of a hard world. In the next American Administration, I want to see people in charge who are willing to look up, to their left, to their right, behind them, constantly, looking out and seeking new dangers and new opportunity for my home country. That requires a curiousity about the world, and a willingness to overlook preconceptions. Does Palin have that drive? Something tells me she does not.
Roman Wolf
As a result, I was reduced to youtube videos and homework. Between those two stimuli, youtube videos were the strongest draw. In the midst of Pocohantas videos (the inspiration of the title) and other disnified time wasters, I found myself clicking on a Sarah Palin interview.
It shamed me. That anybody could be so horribly misinformed and unenlightened about the broader world is a pitiable reality of America life, but I've always hoped that such people were content to sit on their couches drinking bud light and shouting at America's Next Top Model.
Now, I have very little tolerance for religious extremists. Nor do I like stupid responses and unintelligent answers. But I love moose, I think moose meat is delicious. Plus I am a fan of hockey. I state all these things to say that my dislike of Palin is not based off a dislike of hockey, or of moose, or even of Alaska. Alaska is a nice state. Big, open, but cold. Guess nothing is perfect.
My impression of Palin is that she has no curiousity about the world, no drive to look into issues. If a problem comes, she swipes at it, killing it as thoughtlessly as a person kills the mosquito sucking the blood from their arm. In places like Alaska, perhaps you need to be that way towards mosquitoes, but not even Alaska should be governed by base instincts of pain and defense.
The world is more complex than a mosquito bite. Sometimes you get bitten and need to scratch the itch for days on end. Does that mean you take out the DDT and kill all the eagles? Does that mean that you infest people with DEET to fend off the little buggers?
No.
Sometimes, when something hurts, you are a fool to lash out at it. Sometimes you have to look up from the mosquitoes biting your leg to ensure that your food is properly stowed, that your tent is well staked, and that there is no giant grizzly bear rearing up in front of you, ready to take your head off with its paw.
Sometimes you have to be omniscentally aware. Especially if you have the ship of state under your hand and are in charge of guiding it through the trechery of a hard world. In the next American Administration, I want to see people in charge who are willing to look up, to their left, to their right, behind them, constantly, looking out and seeking new dangers and new opportunity for my home country. That requires a curiousity about the world, and a willingness to overlook preconceptions. Does Palin have that drive? Something tells me she does not.
Roman Wolf
9.11.2008
Lipstick on a Pig
Hello Lobolians
So in the midst of energy crises, wars against fear itself (which, after all, is the only thing there is to fear), invasions of Pakistan, a dispirted American public, and the most historic election in ages the best McCain can do against Obama is smear him for saying "if you put lipstick on a pig, its still a pig."
Hm.
Now, if McCain were truly talking straight about why he is upset, why wouldn't he simply say he was jealous that Obama took his line? Its what Obama did after all. McCain uses that line quite often. And Obama stole it. Bad Obama.
But no. McCain refrained from explaining his inner hurt and instead redirected that hurt into a slight against Sarah Palin. Don't do that McCain. If Obama truly offended you, come out in a town hall meeting and explain to the American public that you really like you "lipstick on a pig" slogan and you feel that him taking it from your mouth was a very childish and mean-spirited thing to do. Don't shoot yourself in the foot by throwing dirt all over your line and saying its Sexist. Its funny, not mean.
So McCain, please, grow up a little. You are supposed to be the adult in this campaign, not Obama.
Roman Wolf
So in the midst of energy crises, wars against fear itself (which, after all, is the only thing there is to fear), invasions of Pakistan, a dispirted American public, and the most historic election in ages the best McCain can do against Obama is smear him for saying "if you put lipstick on a pig, its still a pig."
Hm.
Now, if McCain were truly talking straight about why he is upset, why wouldn't he simply say he was jealous that Obama took his line? Its what Obama did after all. McCain uses that line quite often. And Obama stole it. Bad Obama.
But no. McCain refrained from explaining his inner hurt and instead redirected that hurt into a slight against Sarah Palin. Don't do that McCain. If Obama truly offended you, come out in a town hall meeting and explain to the American public that you really like you "lipstick on a pig" slogan and you feel that him taking it from your mouth was a very childish and mean-spirited thing to do. Don't shoot yourself in the foot by throwing dirt all over your line and saying its Sexist. Its funny, not mean.
So McCain, please, grow up a little. You are supposed to be the adult in this campaign, not Obama.
Roman Wolf
9.05.2008
The Candidates
A new election to discuss, my Lobolians. A new election for the United States of America.
For the next four years, somebody else is to rule this massive old giant of a nation, a nation barely 200 years old but with the soul of greece and rome and hidden fires stoked through centuries of feudalism.
According to John McCain, the beacon of liberty would be a massive bonfire, surrounded by the mighty soldiers of liberty and defended with the stoic hearts of Americans.
According to Barack Obama, the beacon of liberty is something of a talisman, lighting the way to a union of Kenyans and Kansans and his own birth to his attempt to prove that any little boy (although he kept a little girl from doing the same) could grow up to be president.
Yeah, that parenthesis got you, didn't it? Hillary Clinton was a little girl who could have become president, but a little black boy got the nomination instead. And an old white man who grew up as a little boy hearing that Pearl Harbor was bombed--and to my ears, dang did that age him--also is trying to prove that HE can be president.
And on the streets of St Paul, where protesters rumble with cops and where the Dorothy Day Homeless shelter has been hidden from view by plastic on the fences--a homeless man who was once a boy is also trying to be president of the United States. It is not he who will stand at a podium with cameras blazing. But he is running anyway.
Which of those stories prove the most about America?
Comment please.
Roman Wolf
For the next four years, somebody else is to rule this massive old giant of a nation, a nation barely 200 years old but with the soul of greece and rome and hidden fires stoked through centuries of feudalism.
According to John McCain, the beacon of liberty would be a massive bonfire, surrounded by the mighty soldiers of liberty and defended with the stoic hearts of Americans.
According to Barack Obama, the beacon of liberty is something of a talisman, lighting the way to a union of Kenyans and Kansans and his own birth to his attempt to prove that any little boy (although he kept a little girl from doing the same) could grow up to be president.
Yeah, that parenthesis got you, didn't it? Hillary Clinton was a little girl who could have become president, but a little black boy got the nomination instead. And an old white man who grew up as a little boy hearing that Pearl Harbor was bombed--and to my ears, dang did that age him--also is trying to prove that HE can be president.
And on the streets of St Paul, where protesters rumble with cops and where the Dorothy Day Homeless shelter has been hidden from view by plastic on the fences--a homeless man who was once a boy is also trying to be president of the United States. It is not he who will stand at a podium with cameras blazing. But he is running anyway.
Which of those stories prove the most about America?
Comment please.
Roman Wolf
7.19.2008
Obama
My deepest apologies for the wait. Life, as often happens to those who are young and busy and facebook obsessed often doesn't grant us time in our blogs as we might wish. Not to say there is nothing to talk about, because, in seasons such as this, there is much to talk about, more than there has been for awhile.
So what shall I say? Shall I tell you that my last post was written in despair, as I feared Barack Obama would fail my generation in its deepest hopes and demands and needs? I shall, and it shall be the truth. I do fear that Barack Obama will not be the president we imagine him to be. I fear that he will be the dreamer in whom we trust, but that the age of the 21st century will not be kind to dreams, as it was unkind to the dreams of Jimmy Carter, and for the next thirty years he will be a fortgettable president, doomed to helping the weak and unfortunate as only we normal Americans can.
For thousands upon thousands of Americans, that is as much, or more, than we can ever accomplish, to help other country men and fellows of the Earth. Or will ever accomplish, let me say, because we do not try. I do what I can, but I am just one person, and despite the power of one person, I do not think I could ever do enough. And I certainly cannot do as much as Barack Obama can.
He has the power to hypnotize a lost and worried generation who were raised to politics with the shadow of a draft, the horror of war, and the anger at a Republican Party that has forgetten the small in favor of the rich. He has the power to harness new life and energy of this generation and drive it into his campaign. As a young college student, I have the honor of seeing that drive in the eyes of liberal friends speaking of Barack Obama, and their hopes for him.
If he is to be a great president, or any president all it, it will not be enough to harness the power for a win for himself in this election. he must simultaneously harness that power into a win for America, for the world as it might one day be. He is the only politican today with the words capable of harnessing the wildness and frustration the young people, raised with recession and terror and George Bush, and transforming it into a powerful force of America, the same power that has made this country great and threatens to destroy America when it gets wasted.
I think Barack Obama knows that. He was a community organizer. He saw in Chicago many young people who needed to channel their talent, and he wants to expand that to the entire country. If the black community in general had any sense, they would see that the true potential of America, including themselves, lies with Barack's Obama's being heard, not literally castrated by Al Sharpton.
So that is my message. I do not side with politicians lightly, as all of you Lobolians have no doubt seen. But Barack Obama is the first and only to show himself worthy of such a grant, coming even from an online weakling such as myself.
Have a nice day Lobolians
Roman Wolf
So what shall I say? Shall I tell you that my last post was written in despair, as I feared Barack Obama would fail my generation in its deepest hopes and demands and needs? I shall, and it shall be the truth. I do fear that Barack Obama will not be the president we imagine him to be. I fear that he will be the dreamer in whom we trust, but that the age of the 21st century will not be kind to dreams, as it was unkind to the dreams of Jimmy Carter, and for the next thirty years he will be a fortgettable president, doomed to helping the weak and unfortunate as only we normal Americans can.
For thousands upon thousands of Americans, that is as much, or more, than we can ever accomplish, to help other country men and fellows of the Earth. Or will ever accomplish, let me say, because we do not try. I do what I can, but I am just one person, and despite the power of one person, I do not think I could ever do enough. And I certainly cannot do as much as Barack Obama can.
He has the power to hypnotize a lost and worried generation who were raised to politics with the shadow of a draft, the horror of war, and the anger at a Republican Party that has forgetten the small in favor of the rich. He has the power to harness new life and energy of this generation and drive it into his campaign. As a young college student, I have the honor of seeing that drive in the eyes of liberal friends speaking of Barack Obama, and their hopes for him.
If he is to be a great president, or any president all it, it will not be enough to harness the power for a win for himself in this election. he must simultaneously harness that power into a win for America, for the world as it might one day be. He is the only politican today with the words capable of harnessing the wildness and frustration the young people, raised with recession and terror and George Bush, and transforming it into a powerful force of America, the same power that has made this country great and threatens to destroy America when it gets wasted.
I think Barack Obama knows that. He was a community organizer. He saw in Chicago many young people who needed to channel their talent, and he wants to expand that to the entire country. If the black community in general had any sense, they would see that the true potential of America, including themselves, lies with Barack's Obama's being heard, not literally castrated by Al Sharpton.
So that is my message. I do not side with politicians lightly, as all of you Lobolians have no doubt seen. But Barack Obama is the first and only to show himself worthy of such a grant, coming even from an online weakling such as myself.
Have a nice day Lobolians
Roman Wolf
1.31.2008
the Audacity of Hope, in the Shadow of truth
where is our hope in America today? Is it with the people we face, the array of handy politicians racing for our votes in a race jockeyed by money and circling the people like vultures?
or is it hidden in those we have not yet seen, ducked inside hearts yet young and unable to express with direct power, acting through the people above them, in hopes of becoming more like them?
i thought i had found it, but i was, i fear, wrong. How often are americans going to be wrong about their politicians, or is it how long are politicians going to be wrong about Americans?
For that matter, who is right about Americans? Is it the shock jocks who tell them what to think, the bloggers dodging the news streams of the past century, tapping the old lineage of the 19th century journal? All i can say is, i hope that the spin doctors and vote tabulators and experts of the candidates are wrong. because at the rate they are advising, we have no more hope.
But this is not yet Rome
Roman Wolf
or is it hidden in those we have not yet seen, ducked inside hearts yet young and unable to express with direct power, acting through the people above them, in hopes of becoming more like them?
i thought i had found it, but i was, i fear, wrong. How often are americans going to be wrong about their politicians, or is it how long are politicians going to be wrong about Americans?
For that matter, who is right about Americans? Is it the shock jocks who tell them what to think, the bloggers dodging the news streams of the past century, tapping the old lineage of the 19th century journal? All i can say is, i hope that the spin doctors and vote tabulators and experts of the candidates are wrong. because at the rate they are advising, we have no more hope.
But this is not yet Rome
Roman Wolf
1.18.2008
Return of the Politico I
Hello Lobolians
It is now a new year, and high time to return to the grand old theorectical days of yore. Now, at this point, the average blogger would simply declare, I am for ___________! yell at all of you, and insist that you are for ___________! too. I consider such politicoing rather rude, and consider it rather high minded of me to insist that you share my polical views. I don't want you to share my political views. Blindly following the political view of any blogger, especially one that resides online with a psuedonym called "roman wolf". We all know what the romans made of politcs.
Caesar walks up to the senate, (stab stab stab stab stab stab)x(stab stab stab stab stab stab)
et tu brute?
yep, i'm a brute
stab
end of Ceasar
So yeah, don't trust your political views to a Roman.
But I always liked the Greeks better, except for the fact that Lobopolis didn't sound nearly as good as Lobolius when I needed a fake name, so I became the Roman Wolf, rather than the Greek Wolf. Plus the Romans had their Lupercale, so they liked Wolves. I am not sure if the greeks liked wolves or not, Homer certainly was fond of lions. But I am no lion. Lions are for people named Richard. or at least their hearts are.
cour'de'lion and all
or however you spell the french word for heart. If you know, leave a little comment for me, so that I know. Something close to that, but i have a feeling there is an e in it somewhere. haha
Now, about Politics.
Hilary appeared on the Tyra Banks show today, and was talking about Chelsey Clinton. Amazing how wonderful a fierce and strong minded mother is when she protects here child, but oh how dreadful the fierce and strong minded female politician is. One is admirable, the other divisive.
Obama is still scavenging for his post as the Kennedy of the Generation that grew up under the reign of Clintons and Bushses. Some say he is too young, but so was the guy who fended off the darkest, most nearly human extincting, phase of the cold war. Rather amusing, isn't it, how short memories of history can be. everyone who was old enough to fall in love with Kennedy is old enough to blast Obama for being too young.
Among the Republicans, it is a mad scramble for whoever can be the most Reaganesque, or have the most charming smile, or be the most right about iraq, or who can charm the most neo-neo-conservatives.
Thomson is handidly playing the Reagan Card, drawing off the 1980's memories of the old guard conservatives and cashing in on his status as an actor, hoping that the shadow of the guy who killed farmers in nicaragua then lassoed and ripped down the berlin wall will waft him into the oval office.
Mitt Romney obviously read somewhere in the mass media that Americans vote in the man who looks the prettiest for president and while lovingly eyeing himself in the mirror decided that he was the fairest of them all and after a bit of flip flopping, made up his mind, and then changed it again and ran for president anyway. If the presidential looking card contiues to pan out for him, then he is in luck. He has the biggest smile and the whitest teeth and the correct hair.
McCain saw Iraq and decided that he was going to hedge all his bets on Iraq being a good idea for America, because since it was a new Vietnam, and Vietnam was a good fight, Iraq was one too. He knew Vietnam was a good fight because he was a POW. And in NH, it actually worked for him a bit. He won there.
Huckabee loves the Neo-Neo-Conservatives. These are the neo conservatives who are trying to reform the neoconservatives, by having a strong focus on youth issues like the enviroment, while keeping up the old guard;s defence of the sanctitiy of marriage with at most a modern separate but equal doctrine. At least, well, the status quo is nice too, and since they are Conservatives, the olden days when gay meant no more than happy would proabably be pleasant too. he's their hero. Plus the evangelicals like him too, he's from the south and he's a governor. Both are strong creds for anybody not named Will Clinton.
Course, there are plenty of others i could critique, but my fingers are tired and your eyes probably are too. When i have made my next post, this will be the earlier one. But till then, more will be on the way.
It is now a new year, and high time to return to the grand old theorectical days of yore. Now, at this point, the average blogger would simply declare, I am for ___________! yell at all of you, and insist that you are for ___________! too. I consider such politicoing rather rude, and consider it rather high minded of me to insist that you share my polical views. I don't want you to share my political views. Blindly following the political view of any blogger, especially one that resides online with a psuedonym called "roman wolf". We all know what the romans made of politcs.
Caesar walks up to the senate, (stab stab stab stab stab stab)x(stab stab stab stab stab stab)
et tu brute?
yep, i'm a brute
stab
end of Ceasar
So yeah, don't trust your political views to a Roman.
But I always liked the Greeks better, except for the fact that Lobopolis didn't sound nearly as good as Lobolius when I needed a fake name, so I became the Roman Wolf, rather than the Greek Wolf. Plus the Romans had their Lupercale, so they liked Wolves. I am not sure if the greeks liked wolves or not, Homer certainly was fond of lions. But I am no lion. Lions are for people named Richard. or at least their hearts are.
cour'de'lion and all
or however you spell the french word for heart. If you know, leave a little comment for me, so that I know. Something close to that, but i have a feeling there is an e in it somewhere. haha
Now, about Politics.
Hilary appeared on the Tyra Banks show today, and was talking about Chelsey Clinton. Amazing how wonderful a fierce and strong minded mother is when she protects here child, but oh how dreadful the fierce and strong minded female politician is. One is admirable, the other divisive.
Obama is still scavenging for his post as the Kennedy of the Generation that grew up under the reign of Clintons and Bushses. Some say he is too young, but so was the guy who fended off the darkest, most nearly human extincting, phase of the cold war. Rather amusing, isn't it, how short memories of history can be. everyone who was old enough to fall in love with Kennedy is old enough to blast Obama for being too young.
Among the Republicans, it is a mad scramble for whoever can be the most Reaganesque, or have the most charming smile, or be the most right about iraq, or who can charm the most neo-neo-conservatives.
Thomson is handidly playing the Reagan Card, drawing off the 1980's memories of the old guard conservatives and cashing in on his status as an actor, hoping that the shadow of the guy who killed farmers in nicaragua then lassoed and ripped down the berlin wall will waft him into the oval office.
Mitt Romney obviously read somewhere in the mass media that Americans vote in the man who looks the prettiest for president and while lovingly eyeing himself in the mirror decided that he was the fairest of them all and after a bit of flip flopping, made up his mind, and then changed it again and ran for president anyway. If the presidential looking card contiues to pan out for him, then he is in luck. He has the biggest smile and the whitest teeth and the correct hair.
McCain saw Iraq and decided that he was going to hedge all his bets on Iraq being a good idea for America, because since it was a new Vietnam, and Vietnam was a good fight, Iraq was one too. He knew Vietnam was a good fight because he was a POW. And in NH, it actually worked for him a bit. He won there.
Huckabee loves the Neo-Neo-Conservatives. These are the neo conservatives who are trying to reform the neoconservatives, by having a strong focus on youth issues like the enviroment, while keeping up the old guard;s defence of the sanctitiy of marriage with at most a modern separate but equal doctrine. At least, well, the status quo is nice too, and since they are Conservatives, the olden days when gay meant no more than happy would proabably be pleasant too. he's their hero. Plus the evangelicals like him too, he's from the south and he's a governor. Both are strong creds for anybody not named Will Clinton.
Course, there are plenty of others i could critique, but my fingers are tired and your eyes probably are too. When i have made my next post, this will be the earlier one. But till then, more will be on the way.
12.02.2007
Gentle Rambling
Greetings my Lobolians
Whoever you are, whereever you are, since it is hard for me to know of those things. I have only gotten one comment in two years from a viewer, so the vast majority of you need to say more or I can never tailor my posts to your liking.
I am rather tired tonight, so I don't think I will write more. But you should. It's easier to comment than it is to post, you just have to read stuff that I write down for you and hit the comment button. Then you say something like, You rock Lobolius! or Lobolius-I think you are an idiot. I won't mind either, really. I am a true believer in freedom of speech.
Roman Wolf
Whoever you are, whereever you are, since it is hard for me to know of those things. I have only gotten one comment in two years from a viewer, so the vast majority of you need to say more or I can never tailor my posts to your liking.
I am rather tired tonight, so I don't think I will write more. But you should. It's easier to comment than it is to post, you just have to read stuff that I write down for you and hit the comment button. Then you say something like, You rock Lobolius! or Lobolius-I think you are an idiot. I won't mind either, really. I am a true believer in freedom of speech.
Roman Wolf
11.27.2007
Is there some point to the world or do we simply like to delude ourselves? Come on, face it, the world is a large spinning ball containing mostly water, salt water, with a bit of dirt here and there, and some ice on top and bottom. That's all there is. Why should such a ball have a purpose for each and every one of us?
But being human, and homo sapiens, wise humans, at that, we all have concluded that there is a point to our wisdom. We need a point for our wisdom, an outlet for those superfluous conclusions we draw every day. That is why the internet is so popular. We have all been raised in America to believe that we are all unique and special, but with so many unique and special voices, we need to be heard above the clamor.
The postmodern world is said to be filled with such ruckus, a mindless miasma of thoughts disconnected from the world around them, beings trapped without a sense of location, when, like me, they wander onto a computer and tap the powers of the net.
But is it that bad? Does not the internet, with its super strength of individualism surmount that babble? Of course it doesn't. The Rant is a single voice yapping in a loud brook, surrounded by thousands of other yappers, and a handful of screamers whose voices are known, heard, and occasionally recognized by many people who skim the net for those who can be heard.
There is more sound than ears to listen, more to be heard than can ever be heard. That is the nature of the world I and so many of the people my age have grown up in, yet we have all been told from infancy that our voices matter, that what we say counts. We have been raised knowing both realities as inherently true, and some people look at us and wonder, why are the young people today so disenchanted, so cynical, so refusing to vote? We have been decieved. That is why.
We have grown up with soundless voices, talked with our fingers, looked with a two dimensional screen and made friends with images alone. What else could we be but image centric, snappy thinkers who cannot look in depth at an issue? A generalization of course, but truer than many of us would like to admit to. We are fought by our own world as we grow up, yet coddled and told we are safe and loved.
Our own inherited passions have destroyed us, the technology we have been raised to love has replaced any other world in beauty, in rightness. There is no swifter way to learn, to talk, to experiance the world than the internet, but one day there will be. And that is the ultimate hope for any generation, that they outlive what they were born with and eventually become capable of remembering antiquated things, like vcrs.
Roman Wolf
But being human, and homo sapiens, wise humans, at that, we all have concluded that there is a point to our wisdom. We need a point for our wisdom, an outlet for those superfluous conclusions we draw every day. That is why the internet is so popular. We have all been raised in America to believe that we are all unique and special, but with so many unique and special voices, we need to be heard above the clamor.
The postmodern world is said to be filled with such ruckus, a mindless miasma of thoughts disconnected from the world around them, beings trapped without a sense of location, when, like me, they wander onto a computer and tap the powers of the net.
But is it that bad? Does not the internet, with its super strength of individualism surmount that babble? Of course it doesn't. The Rant is a single voice yapping in a loud brook, surrounded by thousands of other yappers, and a handful of screamers whose voices are known, heard, and occasionally recognized by many people who skim the net for those who can be heard.
There is more sound than ears to listen, more to be heard than can ever be heard. That is the nature of the world I and so many of the people my age have grown up in, yet we have all been told from infancy that our voices matter, that what we say counts. We have been raised knowing both realities as inherently true, and some people look at us and wonder, why are the young people today so disenchanted, so cynical, so refusing to vote? We have been decieved. That is why.
We have grown up with soundless voices, talked with our fingers, looked with a two dimensional screen and made friends with images alone. What else could we be but image centric, snappy thinkers who cannot look in depth at an issue? A generalization of course, but truer than many of us would like to admit to. We are fought by our own world as we grow up, yet coddled and told we are safe and loved.
Our own inherited passions have destroyed us, the technology we have been raised to love has replaced any other world in beauty, in rightness. There is no swifter way to learn, to talk, to experiance the world than the internet, but one day there will be. And that is the ultimate hope for any generation, that they outlive what they were born with and eventually become capable of remembering antiquated things, like vcrs.
Roman Wolf
11.08.2007
Hello Lobolians!
I fear this blog has lost it's political teeth, especially compared to last year. Well, I want to change that.
To do so, I will start with a topic that many consider frivilous in the world of politics, but not so frivolous as to make me shy away from it while biting hard on political matters.
So, now, in keeping with my theory of enforced neutrality by bombing everyone, I guess i will go after the democrats. Consider that lineup they give us. The standard fare of old white men, an old black man, a young black man (too young for many to like)and a white woman.
And now, we see that come down to this-those two at each other's throats. Where else can a politician's teeth go? How about to being critical of our national debt, in the trillions and largely held by China. Money brought down many nations before this, the Romans among them. But where are those words?
I have no idea where the words against that are. We seem too eager to attack the "other" and too uninterested in doing anything about the issues that need to be attacked.
11.03.2007
How to defeat Obesity, a Sarcastic Approach
People who wish to remain anomymous have touted a brilliant new way to combat the obesity epidemic in today's youth. While admitting that some find it a little extreme, they insist that it will succeed where M rated video games, freeze dried apples at McDonalds and banning tag on playgrounds has not:
Starve Them.
The plan is simple, really. Child comes back from the M rated Video, asks mom, can i have some cookies? The mom turns gently but firmly to her child and says, no I am sorry honey. You are fat. I read about a way to save you from diabetes.
The kid frowns, aware so far only that he is being denied cookies.
"What's that?" The kid wails, in an age old technique.
"I need to starve you." The mom replies, padlocking the safe loaded with cookies, bread, milk, apples, and cheerios.
Has anyone else ever found situations like this pathetic in some way? I mean, we are a nation largely consisting over the overweight, the underexercising, where the idea of starving yourself is encouraged on websites as a way to become beautiful. In other parts of the world, starving is something everyone dreams of avoiding. Who knows where I am going with this, I just thought it was an interesting foil this morning.
Roman Wolf
Starve Them.
The plan is simple, really. Child comes back from the M rated Video, asks mom, can i have some cookies? The mom turns gently but firmly to her child and says, no I am sorry honey. You are fat. I read about a way to save you from diabetes.
The kid frowns, aware so far only that he is being denied cookies.
"What's that?" The kid wails, in an age old technique.
"I need to starve you." The mom replies, padlocking the safe loaded with cookies, bread, milk, apples, and cheerios.
Has anyone else ever found situations like this pathetic in some way? I mean, we are a nation largely consisting over the overweight, the underexercising, where the idea of starving yourself is encouraged on websites as a way to become beautiful. In other parts of the world, starving is something everyone dreams of avoiding. Who knows where I am going with this, I just thought it was an interesting foil this morning.
Roman Wolf
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Lobolius, The Roman Wolf
- Lobolius
- Long ago a wolf did howl in the day, as a river flowed and the ocean called. But the wolf lay down by another shore, and then became a tree.
