Dear Blogger Beta: A Retraction

Dear Blogger Beta:
Please accept these words as an apology, and consider retracting your libel lawsuit.
I misunderstood your ways, and wrongly assumed that you were hindering me from editing HTML as I wished. I felt that this was cramping my style, especially in my sidebar, which i regard with high esteem. Now, Beta, I realize that I needed to look outside of my narrow "edit template" focus, and realize that all along, you allowed my free spirit to add a "script page element." YAY!
We see eye to eye now, beta. Sorry for the misunderstanding.
Later,
Enlightened Blogger

P.S. Hey, why don't you make it so that I don't have to type my whole email address in to log on? You might want to do something about this before I retract my retraction.
Be afraid. Be very afraid. Site users are not content to sit back and let platforming changes roll past them. Just ask Mark Zuckerberg.

To Blogger Beta:

To Blogger Beta:
You are ruining my life!
To Be Continued.

a conversation

Scene: Joe and Angela in Ranger.

Backdrop: Eureka Road and Telegraph area.

~A Conversation~

Joe: *silence*

Angela: *silence*

Joe: "So. What are we going to do about your public speaking?"

Angela: *silence*

Joe:"What?"

Angela:"What?"

Joe:"Hello?"

Angela:"I guess, when I'm in public, only ask me about tennis, crocheting, and camping."

Joe: ~mute chuckle.~*inaudible*~snort~

Angela: *silence*

The OAD, and such

We have recently been schooled on the joys of the OED. I, too, sing its praises daily. I happen to have a bad back, so my volume is electronic. True, it doesn't smell like a basement, and it doesn't provide the same satisfactory "thwack, thwack, thwack," page flipping sound as its bound counterpart, but it the spell checker and calculator function help me get over it.
Mine is actually an Oxford American Dictionary. Though the war wages on as to whether the OAD is as comprehensive or academically relevant as the OED, I find that every word I have cross checked is present in each.
Proof: "bloody" is found as "a vulgar slang" (with origins noted the same,) in both editions, except mine mentions that it is "chiefly British." That's helpful anyway, because I wouldn't want to go around saying chiefly British expressions, for fear that I could be misidentified as such.
This has a point, I promise.
Because I have a "history" function, I thought I would share the last five words I looked up.
1. pasha
2. Pict
3. Nahuatl
4. debauchery (for origin purposes)
5. Navarino, Battle of
There is also a phrase search, which has only been used once in earnest, for looking up "hell for leather." The remainder of these searches is chiefly made up of Joe and I wondering just what kind of phrases it offers to define. ex: "up a creek."

Dear Pope Benedict XVI,

Dear Pope Benedict XVI,
First things first: can I call you P? I think that it would do wonders for you image if you didn't mind things like that.
I wanted to write and let you know that not only do I admire your argumentative skills, but also wish to commend you on sticking to your guns, and only acting like you want to apologise.
This seems like the only rational thing to do, and wanted to let you know, just in case you maybe having second thoughts, that the technique you are employing ALWAYS works for me. Sure, you may be the leader of a world wide faith community, and I may be a B- student from Michigan, but I think we have a lot of the same things going: a big mouth, a volatile public, and reasons not to lie.
So you said some things about Muslims. Wait, you didn't even say them. You quoted a really old dead guy who said something about Muslims in the 14th century. People are mad that you said it, and are demanding an apology. That's okay, P, don't sweat it. Just keep doing what you're doing. What you did was great. You said that you were sorry that they were upset, but didn't mention anything about being sorry that you said it. And that's because you are not. We know this.
This is a technique I often find helpful myself. Here is a bit of example dialog from a day at work that I feel will help you relate my situation to yours:
Lisa: did you do the membership filing?
Me:yes
Lisa: I really wish you wouldn't have, because now I have to go back through all of them to make cards
Me: I'm sorry you don't like making cards.
So, P: You didn't accidentally let an archaic quote slip out during a sermon. You weighed your words, did your homework, and let them have it. Now don't back down!
Sincerely (for real!),
An Apology Faker

Note: Here is something to wrap your mind around. People were so outraged by a comic about Muhammad (in a Danish newspaper that felt their country being threatend by Islamic extremists) that they rioted for days, displaying what the Pope may call "evil and inhuman," because of what they viewed as disrespect for their leader. Once they feel threatend by The Pope, however, they have no problem burning him in effigy.
I know that having an "us," "them" attitude about world events is not productive, or even healthy. Saying simply "they" is a non specific stereotype. And to this, I plea "I'm sorry" in true Pope style.

Dear Jonathan,

Dear Jonathan,
Everyone was so happy when you were born! Your five sisters were so happy to have a little brother, and all of us in the family were buzzing about how your mom finally had a boy! When your family came up to see us the next month, I felt very lucky that I was the only one of the kids that got to hold you, because I was 10, which was a very big deal. You were so small and your fingers were so long! I was scared that I may drop you, but you just looked at me and grinned your Jonathan grin.
When I visited your grandma last fall, I saw from school pictures that you were growing to be a very handsome young man. Now, you have been reduced to a headline.
Two weeks ago, at your sisters wedding, I am told you were charming and polite, as usual. I'm sorry that I was not there. As I look at the invitation now, the air fare doesn't seem to be as unattainable as it had seemed to be a month ago.
I miss you already, Jonathon. We all do. I don't know why you decided to follow the crowd. You knew better than this!
My heart hurts for your Mom and Dad. For your sisters. For you. I know that I should feel consoled that you trusted Jesus, but right now I'm too busy missing you. Good Bye, Jonathan.

You Will Be Missed,
LOVE,
Your Cousin

Note to potential commentors: the word "sorry" is not allowed to appear in any context, language, or order. Thank you.

A Brief Reprieve

Dear Gameboy,
You are cool, but I'm going out to see the glory.
Bring it on!


I never did like the word mediocre
I never wanted it to be said of me, oh, no
Just point me to the job and I’d go over, over
Looking for the very best that could be
So what is this thing I see
Going on inside of me?
When it comes to the grace of God
Sometimes it’s like …

I’m playing Gameboy standing in the middle of the Grand Canyon
I’m eating candy sittin’ at a gourmet feast
I’m wading in a puddle when I could be swimming in the ocean
Tell me what’s the deal with me
(I know the time has come for me to)
Wake up and see the glory

Every star in the sky tells His story, oh
And every breeze is singing His song
All of creation is imploring
Hey, come see this grand phenomenon
The wonder of His grace
Should take my breath away
I miss so many things when I’m content with …

Playing Gameboy standing in the middle of the Grand Canyon
Eating candy sittin’ at a gourmet feast
Wading in a puddle when I could be swimming in the ocean
Tell me what’s the deal with me
(I know the time has come for me to)
Wake up and see the glory

How could I trivialize it
This awesome gift of God’s grace?
Once I have come to realize it
I should be speechless and amazed

Wake up and see the glory
Open your eyes and take it in
Wake up and be amazed
Over and over again

God’s love is calling to you and to me
Wake up, wake up
Open your eyes
-Steven Curtis Chapman
(Because he's off the chain, son.)

Preview (a lengthy one is cooking)

A Letter of Appreciation:

To All Taylor Festival Attendees

Thanks for the Memories :)

Please Welcome A Guest Blogger

Dear Gas Pricers:
I wanted to drop you a quick line and let you know that I have never been fooled by the "9" you place in the "tenths," place in the price of gas on the signs. Yes, I know that when you list the price of regular unleaded gas at $2.89.9 that it is really only a tenth of a penny away from being $2.90. Yes, I know that if I fill up my tank with 10 gallons of gasoline at the "higher," price the difference would total a whopping ONE CENT.
So, might I suggest just putting the freaking whole number on the sign? I've noticed many of your establishments running out of space now that the #2 must go first. Why not just drop the nine? I doubt that you are going to change, but I felt obligated to let you know that I am onto your game and from now on I will actually buy one penny less of gas each tank just so it all works out.

Regards,
Mike

Dear Hungry Man in Detroit,

Dear Hungry Man in Detroit,
I would like to commend you on your exceedingly effective change collection tactic. Others, with a cup or an outstretched hand, implore the baseball watching masses to give what they will. A passerby can easily dismiss them by simply looking the other way, or internally reasoning that the person wants too much, or that they will use said donation on vice or the like.
You, on the other hand, have honed a technique that could easily take the panhandling profession by storm. Combining a stalker/specificity approach, you were able to squeeze me for every last dime I had. Literally. Granted, Joe and I together had a grand total of $2.25 (in quarters) to our names, but, after said technique was employed, you walked away a richer man than we.
As a courtesy, I will now clue you in on my side of the transaction, as I’m sure your market research budget is somewhat overdrawn at this juncture. You were effective in acquiring our change because:
1)You were specific. Naming the amount you wanted, 75cents, put things into perspective. I probably had 75 cents, and I could most definitely spare it. It was in no way an unreasonable request, and it made me think that maybe you were going to buy food with it* because I, too, have scrounged for quarters (in my car seats) in order to buy two sliders.
2)You put forth effort. Though I did not think for one second that you actually cared about the outcome of the baseball game, your inquiry instantly made you a person. This directly combated my former change keeping maneuver, that operated on the premise that those without a face or voice could be ignored, because I could quickly forget about them. Once someone is a person, I cannot imagine him or her away, like we selfish suburbanites often do. Instead, I must internalize you as a fellow human, just like me, in need, and not a “huddled mass” that can easily be overlooked.
3)You were semi scary in a passive way. Walking towards us from across the street showed that you were speaking only to us. This made us realize early on that we could not rely on fellow sidewalk travelers to address your concerns. Beyond that, your dedication to imploring us past our initial shoulder shrugging, and the adjustment of your gait to match ours signaled that you might have actually got in the truck and come home with us if we did not find anything to give you right then.
4)You made me think about you. Evidence: this letter.
Good luck in future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Tigers Fan

P.S. Next game, as part of my own market research, I’m going to make you a sack lunch. Do you want strawberry or grape jelly?


*Foot note to point #1: I, in no way, care what you did with the aforementioned trifle. Unlike some people that I have recently spoken with, I don’t have a problem feeding whatever it is that is keeping you warm or alive. I am not your judge, and cannot imagine ever being that condescending.

Dear A Stapler,

Dear A Stapler,
A letter of thanks is in order at this time, and I intend to deliver it, as late as it may be. This thank you is all inclusive, and applies to both the sturdy rubber bottom desk stapler and the mini backpack stapler, the electrically driven automatic stapler and the Bob Vila style staple gun, for you handy types.
Of all desk effects, you are the most taken for granted, and yet, the most functional. You are as dynamic as your title of compound machine suggests. Your subtle presence screams office building, yet affirms home. Your ability to puncture flesh lets us know that you are not messing around, and that next to the paper shredder, you are the one to watch. And yet, your simple ease of use and performance asserts a sense of comfort and dependability.
You are the golden retriever of office supplies. You sit patiently, waiting to helpfully bind pages of homework, receipts, or litigation. You are loyal and bring together.
You are also an absolute necessity when any kind of paperwork is to be done. In fact, I would have a slight knot in my stomach if you were missing in any kind of paper situation. Your work is quick and permanent, unlike your inept associate, Paper Clip. Unlike Clip, your clamping does not slide off unexpectedly, or hide in inconvenient places like the bottom of pen holders.
Sure, you jam up sometimes and occasionally run out of staples every 300 clicks. But Stapler, I know this is just to remind me of your presence and gain some needed attention. You do a good job, Stapler, I will write you a recommendation anytime.

Sincerely Yours,
A Receptionist

P.S. I didn’t forget about you, A Staple Remover. I know that you are underappreciated, and are always there to clean up after A Stapler, who gets all the glory. Stay strong, your time will come. Keep your chin up.

Note: I was inspired to write about my love of the stapler while reading John Mayer's Dear A Pear.

Dear Grandma-

Dear Grandma-
Thank you for inviting me to your Mother's Day banquet. I know this note is a little late, but I did not want to send it along without photos. I originally was hesitant about attending because I thought it would be a room full of women that I didn't know singing juvenile Sunday school songs and eating mediocre catered roast beef. Instead, it was a room full of wonderful women I didn't know singing charmingly juvenile Sunday school songs and eating mediocre catered pork chops. It was great! Thank you for being the ultimate matriarch.
Love,
Your granddaughter
P.S. I promise I will get baptized. Sometime soon. Okay, well, before the rapture.

Sara Toomey-

Sara Toomey-
What are you thinking?!?!
*Crushed*

Dear tina fabulous,

Dear tina fabulous,
This is an official statement to let you know that, without being overly weird in an I-don't-know-you-but-you-are-sending-me-fan-mail way that HOLY CRAP, I absolutely agree with your comment on partofthestory blog today. Agree is sort of an understatement, since upon reading it I smiled until my face hurt and pumped my fist in the air like a 90's talk show viewer. I tend to read running debates such as that one as both entertainment and eye rolling fodder. I hesitate to comment on their utter uselessness, however, because I don't want my objection to be confused with misunderstanding. I understand fully, but care not. The other (more sinister, and I'm afraid more accurate) reason that I do not throw my comments in is that I had not, as of yesterday, found the words that precisely articulate my thoughts. Today, I found them: "one more unimportant piece of stupidness that gets thrown into the mix as a means of distraction."

Kudos!
General Appreciator
(of Verbal Venom)

*Note: The crux of Carson's point has not been lost on me. Of course, theatric laden testimonies on the 700 club are asinine. Got it.

attempt at nonoffensive blogging

To Those Interested In Joe's Would-Be Blog-

To Those Interested In Joe's Would-Be Blog-

This is a public service announcement to make you aware of what you are missing.

MEMORANDUM
From: Joe
To: Angela
Via: NSA tapped phone conversation
Time: 12:25 p.m., 05/15/06
Note: The following is paraphrased, but conveys the very same mood and content

If I had a blog, I would write about obsolete worthless air hand dryers. Not only do they not dry your hands, they make arrogant claims about themselves while they are not doing anything. Okay, you are better for the environment because you don’t cut down trees or litter bathroom floors. Neither does the sink, and it does what its supposed to do, and does not brag about it. It actually just makes me use more paper, because I have to rip off 387 feet of toilet paper instead of one piece of brown paper to dry my hands off. Air hand dryers have no reason to exist.

Yo Hippiejoe83,

Yo Hippiejoe83,
WORD UP TO MY MAIN SQUEEZE, 83-4-LIFE!
-Your Boo

hippiejoe83: but i wouldnt mind a "shout out"

Dear Jerry Scott & Jim Borgman,

Dear Jerry Scott & Jim Borgman,
Thank you for creating Zits! I have been a loyal reader since its inception in 1998, and though I sometimes wonder how Jeremy has stayed 15 for 8 years, it does not effect how much I enjoy him.
Sincerely,
Former Teenager
P.S. I love the recent panels on blogs and ipods. Excellent!

Dear Life,

Dear Life,
You are getting way too lame, sad, and annoying for me to blog about for the time being. No one wants to read letters of complaint and laundry lists of bellyaching. And so, I'm going to take a temporary respite, but vow to return undaunted.
Till Next Time,
Laying Low
(a.k.a. For A. While)

Dear Justin,

Dear Justin,
I'm so glad you are back home. I missed you. Everything seemed kind of... unnormal without you. Less chaos, less noise, less left field commentary, less rapid door opening and closing and certainly much less phone ringing. In fact, I don't know if the phone rang all week while you were away. I am, of course, jealous of your (semi white boy) tan and Disney World stories. Those things I can get over, though, because you are back in my hair, where you belong.
I didn't realize I missed you at all, until you came home. That sounds odd, but if you think about it, its hard to grasp for a better alternative when you are surrounded my calm parents and peace & quiet. But now, everything just seems RIGHT. More fun, more alive, less lame.
Thank you for my Mickey and Minnie pens, they are exactly what I had in mind. Yay! Now I can get busy writing things like grocery lists and snail-mail because I have the correct implement.
Love,
Boring Sister