tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2337248111634645812024-03-13T23:31:49.329-04:00ACNS Enterprises, LTD.L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-20808152570922586792009-11-11T14:00:00.000-05:002009-11-11T14:00:31.510-05:00New Home!We're moving the blog!<br />
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I've done a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, and I've decided to take the blog to <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">Wordpress</a>. It's got some better features on my side of things, and I think you'll like it there. For the people who read us on Facebook, the page will stay the same, and so will the Twitter updates - just the blog address.<br />
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So switch your RSS Feeds & bookmarks to: <a href="http://acatnamedsteve.wordpress.com/">http://acatnamedsteve.wordpress.com</a> - because that's where we'll be!<br />
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Leave us a comment at the new site letting us know how we can better serve you and keep you coming back!L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-39997099042636801662009-11-10T16:54:00.000-05:002009-11-10T16:55:21.240-05:00Observations<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LIyUxeVUPvU/SvnhG1apIMI/AAAAAAAAAPM/gB9dNURvv6A/s1600-h/maui11600x1200.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402596735541911746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LIyUxeVUPvU/SvnhG1apIMI/AAAAAAAAAPM/gB9dNURvv6A/s320/maui11600x1200.jpg" border="0" /></a>It's been a hiatus to say the least. After a two and a half week vacation, I am back in action in Northern Virginia, and happily living with my wife, Mrs. Buck. I'm already eating better food for dinner, and the Mario Cart competitions are something fierce. Wedding festivities in Pennsylvania were an epic four days of family, friendship, feasting, and booze. I think it would be fair to say the past few weeks were the best days of my life. Therefore, I shall share a few observations from my wedding and honeymoon experiences. <br /><br />1. Snorkels are not good shot glasses.<br />2. Good friends get you drinks at your reception. Responsible friends get you water at your reception.<br />3. Wedding rings are universally awkward for all guys to wear the first month of marriage. It is our common bond of unity, and we can spot each other a mile away.<br />4. First Class air travel is not claustrophobic, and it gives flight attendants a purposeful job.<br />5. Although I have been to a mere minority, I'm confident that Maui is the best island in the world.<br />6. Hawaiian food is scrumptiously delicious.<br />7. Hawaii weather flawless. Always.<br />8. A Jack o' lantern carved out with a blow torch is Halloween done right.<br />9. People do not give you gifts you want or need for your wedding.<br />10. I like marriage. <br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-87024523667557762022009-11-09T20:10:00.006-05:002009-11-09T21:32:20.011-05:00Perspectives on a Poultry Harvest: Bill E.The chickens were ripe for the plucking, and my good friend Ezekiel Mossback was feeling opportunistic. He raises poultry out in Hoosierland, and he needed my help with the slaughter, scalding, plucking and gutting. They say "Early to bed and early to rise makes Bill E. a pre-loader at UPS and very tired", but I made the trek out to Ezekiel's homestead last Friday night for a Saturday Poultry Harvest. Steve's owner Lucas met me out there. It should also be noted that the Willig Matron lent us her artful plucking services for the day.<br />
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The day began with what will be forever immortalized (I know that's redundant, but the point needs to be made) as the "Traffic Cone Fiasco", or TCF. For slaughter, the chickens are placed headfirst into upside down sawed-off traffic cones. I had been telling Zeke that his plans for suspending them by taping them to the barn posts would be fruitless, but his country folk stubbornness would not mind my city-slicker attitude. He kept insisting that things be done "the old farm way" and that he was not about to ditch 300+ years of Mossback farming tradition on account of some hokey dude from the 'burbs. But when the pole-taped cone was squeezed too hard to allow a single chicken head through, he begrudgingly allowed me to go with my brilliant idea: a pair of 2-by-4's strung between the barn poles between which the traffic cones could snuggly nestle. I spend so much time on this anecdote because it was really only meaningful contribution I made the whole day. <br />
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I caught a few chickens with Z-Moss and wheeled them back to the farmhouse, where I pondered the wonders of man-made technology (redundant again) as I watched something called the "Plucker 3000" skillfully remove the feathers from a freshly dead bird and give Ezekiel a half-way decent backrub. <br />
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It could have been my destiny to slaughter chickens that day, but I instead chose what I am going to call "Ignorant Manifest Destiny" or IMD, and decided to help gut the chickens. <br />
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As I leaned over a sink with a sage Mossback elder for upwards of the next 9 hours, severing chicken legs and pulling off their heads, scraping my fingernails into their putrid innards, hoping that a stray squeeze on my part didn't cause some leftover excrement to sputter out of their anii and listening to Lucas spew a variety of oaths whilst trying to coerce the scalding water to EXACTLY 145 degrees, I reflected that it is indeed natural for the human to work. Not in the Communist sense of Marx, but in the Christian sense in imitation of St. Joseph. Work in this context is not the telos of man but the result of love, which is man's true telos. I also reflected on how long it would be before I could bring myself to eat chicken again. <br />
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Actually, it was today, when I ate a chicken patty sandwich at school. Though it was a processed mess with no resemblance to the wholesome free-range meat of Mossback's farm, it was the first step on the journey back to enjoying chicken.<br />
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That night, Sage Elder Mossback took us to eat at the local tavern in appreciation for the help. Actually, he was just really hungry and too tired to cook. None of us ordered any chicken. I was effectively asleep before the meal was finished and we drove back. In lieu of our usual night of Mossback Music, I dreamt of a local bishop playing "The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down" on the piano for the entrance song at a mass to make a facetious point about good liturgical music. I blame the poultry. <br />
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Needless to say, I have baited my breath for the summer poultry harvest. Give Mossback a ring on the tele for the finest free-range chickens east of the Mississippi.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-22637502587116390002009-11-06T16:30:00.003-05:002009-11-06T16:43:03.384-05:00Lucas and Bill - Roommates turned chicken butchers<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, this weekend, Bill & I have agreed to spend our time with our dear old friend Ezekiel Mossback assisting him with the unfortunate task of slaughtering, plucking and gutting chickens for sale to the general public.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While initially, I agreed to help with this endeavor because I enjoy spending time at & helping out with chores at Ezekiel's farm, I am now reconsidering the enjoyment factor of such activities. While the end goal of prividing healthier farm products to those who are more health conscious is noble, there lies a responsibility with the person responsible for taking the lives of the chickens. Taking a life is a serious thing - and it must be done with the utmost respect for the God-given gift of life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That said, I'm kinda scared. I'm scared that I will not be able to fulfill this duty properly - I'm afraid that these animals will suffer unnecessarily on my watch, and I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That said, I will try my hand at butchering chickens this weekend. I've watched a few instructional videos on the most humane way to bleed out a chicken, and the care needed in the situation is humbling, to say the least. Hopefully, I can emerge from this experience with some good stories to tell & cross off one of the lines of my 'bucket list'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I hope I don't puke my guts out. We'll talk Monday.</span>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-46401244895590967912009-11-05T15:27:00.001-05:002009-11-05T15:53:08.457-05:00Thursday Rant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SvM06hutxYI/AAAAAAAAAII/fo6Md7nFYLM/s1600-h/Judge+Judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SvM06hutxYI/AAAAAAAAAII/fo6Md7nFYLM/s320/Judge+Judy.jpg" width="201" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Judge Judy, that lace collar isn't make me take you seriously...</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Every day around lunchtime, I mosey on over to the break room. With such amenities as a refrigerator (albeit gross and infested with month-old leftovers), a microwave, tables and chairs, the setting is perfect for enjoying a delicious <i><a href="http://www.healthychoice.com/frozen-meals/cafe-steamers.html">Healthy Choice</a> </i>meal. This affords me the chance to take a break from the mental strain of a stressful work day, collect my thoughts, and prepare for extreme productivity in the second half of the work day (like blogging...).<br />
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Occasionally, I find myself as the only person in the break room, allowing me to control the complimentary 19 inch television mounted to the wall. In such instances, I enjoy the freedom to watch ESPN and catch up on all the tired, overplayed stories like Brett Favre and his waffling over whether or not to retire (they're probably <i>still</i> talking about him right now).<br />
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Finding myself as the only break room occupant, however, is rare. Most times, I am forced to share my quiet time with coworkers. Now, don't get me wrong. I like my coworkers - and I'd like to think they like me. My issue is not one of like or dislike though. Most times I head to the break room for lunch, other people have comandeered the break room for their evil ways. Evil meaning that they have the remote, and I don't.<br />
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Problem is, I don't think many of them realize that the television programming they watch greatly affects my truly trivial opinion of their tastes. If you, dear readers, were to collectively ask me what would be on the TV in the breakroom if one of my coworkers were in control of the remote, I would definitively answer "fake court show depicting uneducated low-income people involved in ridiculous disputes", I would be 100% right, except for the other 50% of the time there's "World's most extreme explosions" enveloping the screen.<br />
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Now, I don't doubt that these shows can be entertaining, even addicting to some, but the level of serious fanship that exists not only at my workplace, but undoubtedly in countless others to these "Judge Judy"-style shows reflects negatively on my perception of the person and how well-educated or well-rounded they may be. This applies not only to fake court shows, but reality shows as well. When did we become a society that entertains itself by watching the drama created by mixing together a bunch of seemingly incompatible and combatitive personalities?<br />
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Regardless, people (my coworkers especially!) need to realize that the content of the material they are ingesting into their heads is, while entertaining, severely influencing and helping to form my ultimate opinion of them. Brett Favre needs his airtime, and I aim to give it to him.L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-66674224508750143122009-11-03T23:15:00.000-05:002009-11-03T23:15:36.894-05:00My brain hurts...But what if...I don't know what would...how would that?..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SvD_wbngXpI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7XrrQlLOd5U/s1600-h/pinocchio-paradox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SvD_wbngXpI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7XrrQlLOd5U/s400/pinocchio-paradox.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That Pinnochio is a LIAR. <br />
</div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-42933261096222126372009-11-02T21:40:00.000-05:002009-11-02T21:40:14.094-05:00Well, DUH...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su-Xt7glwNI/AAAAAAAAAH4/tBdl5FgwsMs/s1600-h/god-of-the-chance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su-Xt7glwNI/AAAAAAAAAH4/tBdl5FgwsMs/s400/god-of-the-chance.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Picture "borrowed" from <a href="http://www.engrish.com/">Engrish.com</a></span> <br />
</div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-86757843673603642172009-11-02T16:15:00.007-05:002009-11-02T16:44:28.645-05:00"The Eater"Fearsome. Infamous. Grotesque. Horrible. <br />
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All of these adjectives have been used to describe that which we dread: The Eater. <br />
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But have we been to harsh? I'll tell you what happened to me yesterday. I saw The Eater. It's true. It was The real Eater himself. He's actually not half-bad. I was patrolling the forests when I saw him. I was petrified. I knew he saw me as well. I fell to my knees and begged, nay, pleaded for my life.<br />
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But it turns out The Eater was actually not interested in consuming me at all. He was actually a pretty chill sort of dude. Sure, he was The Eater and he even enjoyed it, but really the economy had him looking for work just like everyone else. He just wanted to follow his dream and earn his money making music. Can't fault a guy for that. Hell, this cat even had some chops. I know, I saw it later.<br />
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Now, I'm not saying he might not pop off and just eat one of us one of these times. I mean, that's what he does. But the guy really just wants to make music. As long as I gots my guitar, this one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple person is safe.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-49771135649119769962009-11-02T14:49:00.004-05:002009-11-02T14:59:29.370-05:00Ohio's Real Problem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su8ttqTtfpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Yfs81r6C_bo/s1600-h/casino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su8ttqTtfpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Yfs81r6C_bo/s200/casino.jpg" /></span></a><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ohio needs to step up and grow a pair.</span></span><br />
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</div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At this very moment, a debate rages over the possibility of allowing casinos to open their doors for business within the borders of the state, the proponents promise the creation of 34,000 new jobs in the state, effectively "solving" the unemployment issues we are currently facing, in addition, the incoming tax revenues created through the tourism & entertainment appeal of the casinos would stabilize the struggling local economies. Opponents of "Issue 3", set to be voted on tomorrow make the case for keeping casinos out of the local neighborhoods because they claim that the figures of new jobs and projected revenue are grossly overstated, not to mention certain provisions that give complete controlling interest of the casinos to certain people - who happen to operate outside the state of Ohio. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is a trivial debate, and not something with which I will waste any more time. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No, the </span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">real</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> problem with Ohio's economy & overall resident happiness lies in the quality of life being provided by business owners in the state. While the casino debate rages on, there are more pressing issues that need to be addressed by both the state house & senate. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">About a week and a half ago, I traveled to Pennsylvania for Buck's wedding. While my general opinion of Pennsylvania is that it kinda sucks, the quaint little town of Bethlehem provided me the opportunity to develop a new perspective from the original opinions formed from visiting Pittsburgh and it's filthy surroundings. </span></span></span><br />
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</div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In my re-acquaintance with the state, I realized that while I love my home state, my previously dismissive attitude toward Pennsylvania had been changed. It wasn't due to the beauty of the surrounding farming communities or the old-fashioned setting of the downtown area, but rather the quality of the convenience stores & the beer offered. Specifically, the presence of </span><a href="http://www.wawa.com/WawaWeb/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wawa</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> stores & </span><a href="http://www.yuengling.com/index.htm"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yuengling</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> beer.</span></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su8t8CU-H3I/AAAAAAAAAHg/AOIrxqXd7VA/s1600-h/yuengling_eagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su8t8CU-H3I/AAAAAAAAAHg/AOIrxqXd7VA/s200/yuengling_eagle.jpg" /></span></a><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yuengling springs forth from the oldest operating brewery in the United States. A 5th generation family-owned business, the quality of their lager beers is unparalleled in terms of taste to price ratio. Unfortunately, it is only offered East of the Western Pennsylvania border, where it reigns triumphantly at the meager price of $6.99 for a 12 pack. </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su8uEeCPziI/AAAAAAAAAHo/u6b3nMor7Cs/s1600-h/wawa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></a><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While Yuengling offers the customer a time-tested tradition of brewing excellence, Wawa is a more modern experience that cannot be described quite as easily. At first glance, Wawa seems nothing more than a gas station coupled with the standard convenience store anemities. Despite this clever facade, the experience that Wawa provides is uniqe and unmatched. In their quest to provide the best possible customer experience, they have included </span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">everything</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Have a hankerin' for some quality coffee? They can not only provide it, but the consistently fresh-brewed selection is unrivaled, only to be enhanced by the options of fresh milk, half-and-half, full cream, and even Irish Cream as a benefit to their customers. Personally, I have never expereinced iced coffee quite as fantastic either.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su86EPYqzUI/AAAAAAAAAHw/QpcrNNXTbdE/s1600-h/wawa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/Su86EPYqzUI/AAAAAAAAAHw/QpcrNNXTbdE/s200/wawa.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In addition to their fantastic coffee, Wawa also offers a made-to-order food service where you can nourish yourself with a full meal. Soft pretzels are readily available - again, always fresh & delicious, made with love. There are even more pieces to the experience that I can't think of at the moment, but undubitably underappreciate. Indescribable. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ohio </span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">needs</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> these things. Overall, both Yuengling & Wawa will improve the quality of life for Ohio's extremely loyal residents, without the possibility of attracting the usual swindling riff-raff known to frequent the casino scene. I know it's a long shot to expect things to change overnight in Ohio, but that doesn't mean that my opinion is worth nothing. Let's get working to get these products in Ohio, I'm writing my congressman right now. </span></span></span><br />
</div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-45160301748580641382009-11-02T14:32:00.001-05:002009-11-02T14:32:42.095-05:00New Author!I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome my good friend Ezekiel Mossback to the ACNS family!<br />
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Ezekiel lives on a farm in rural Indiana where he currently raises chickens and pigs. I have visited him on numerous occasions to learn more about the art of farming and raising animals, and I am held in rapt anticipation for this coming weekend when I will have the opportunity to help slaughter the chickens and prepare them for sale to the general public. Great care has been taken to make these the healthiest damn chickens you've ever seen.<br />
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As you can probably see, the 2 posts below are stories from the farm. I'd like to have Ezekiel write a loosely regular post on the blog describing his experiences on the farm. That way, us city folk can learn to appreciate the natural beauty and order that surrounds and permeates our physical world. And maybe learn how to make moonshine too...L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-50755528685863579382009-11-02T14:11:00.001-05:002009-11-02T14:24:13.590-05:00The Blackhead PigThere is no kindness in nature. Those effete, modish inheritants of an overly technological world who hold, usually at no fault of their own, the sadly mistaken assumption, handed to them by whimsical progressives—self-styled as such largely because they have progressed beyond reality-- and fostered by a few decades of nineteen-eighties-and-nineties public schooling and the television specials they watched after that schooling from three-thirty until their parents got home, that at least some animals are ‘nice’, had better avoid taking any vacations near the ‘natural world’ or their mistakenness will soon be sorely so. Animals are not intrinsic victims, but very often, if not normally are wicked, stupid, loathsome things intent upon the destruction of others and usually themselves. Anyone who thinks animals have rights has never discussed it with any animals, for if they did, the animal would bite their mouth off and end the conversation. ‘Animal Rights’ fideists have never met this blackhead pig that lives on my farm.<br />
<br />
I went to buy feeder pigs with my friend Will. I forgot to tell him that the best way to carry a pig is by the back leg, and when he grabbed the blackhead pig around her middle, she began her shrieking, suicide inspiring scream that is still continuing as I write this two months later. The other pigs make somewhat pleasant grunts, and when worked up at my proximity, and the anticipation of food, they might emit as much as a grunting-snort sound. The blackhead pig condemns everything about me with her squinty, contemptuous eyes, and her pointed ears that curl back and around her head much like Satan’s horns must do. While I try to pass by, feeding the chickens, she screams commandingly at my cardiovascular system, frantically demanding it jack up my blood pressure until my brain explodes out of my eyeballs. If this fails, she increases the decibels of her deflating-balloon-combined-with-a-falling-bomb-and-locomotive-brakes cursing screech, mockingly daring me to shoot either her or myself in the face. <br />
<br />
I tried to tell myself, in my better moments, that it was not her fault that this was her only means of communication. Perhaps she was the victim of her own limited, wretched vocabulary. I tried scratching her back, patting her while I fed her apples. My hours of kicking back the mud pushed over the electric fence in the pigs’ clever attempts to escape-- doubtless conjured by the blackhead pig in order to seize my farmhouse, kill me in my sleep, and begin running the farm—and my back-breaking labor repairing their warm straw hut that they insisted on destroying so they could spite me by freezing to death, were rewarded by the blackhead pig’s increasingly clever attempts to eat me. <br />
<br />
For example, one sunny afternoon, as the birds cheerfully chirped death threats to other birds near their territory, I strolled over to the pigs’ pasture to give them a bucket of corn. They love corn more than I love Krispy Kreme donuts, but not, apparently, as much as they love human flesh hot off the femur. The pigs were nowhere to be seen, which is unusual because they are normally frolicking about the pasture pretending they are chasing down little kids, or ruling the world. Thank God I am just enough smarter than the pigs that I suspected that something was up. I closed the gate behind me, and still they lay hidden. I poured out their corn, and they remained silent. It was only when I walked out into the pasture, seemingly cut off from ready escape that they poured forth from their den, the blackhead pig emitting her gleeful ring-wraith siren, and surrounded me. They had not accounted for my easy ability to step over the electric fence, and they gnashed their teeth and kicked each other for overlooking this obvious flaw in their perfect crime.<br />
<br />
Every increase in my attempts to coddle and care for the pigs has been matched and raised by the pigs’ efforts to eat me. Since the overt attempt upon my life, they have chosen to keep their cards close to the chest, only casually opening their jaws and nonchalantly putting my leg between them. Never do they act violently enough that it will demand conclusive reciprocity on my part: after all they know that they only grow more valuable as they put on meat, and it would take a clear and present danger from them to make me butcher them before they weigh enough.<br />
<br />
Animals are not kind, and they have no ‘rights’. Without the human person to care for them, to domesticate them, to drag them into the fire-light as White Fang was, animals trample each other, lay down in puddles to drown themselves, poop everywhere, seek out heavy objects to crush them, and eat their young. The ‘natural world’ is a free-for-all in which everything competes in exhibiting a newer and more absurd form of dying. The human person struggles to eke out a tiny corner of kindness, sense, and creation, before the ragweeds and multiflora roses of dying drag it down. Animals do not deserve our care, they have no ‘rights’ before which the human will must pay respect. However, our dignity demands that we care. Human rights and dignity are only kept alive by responsibility, and in caring for things, in tending our gardens, we safeguard our own human rights, and pay respect to the grave duty of being a human being. Failing to care for those things that are our responsibility does violence to our rights, to our dignity and freedom. Without this being truly human, the chickens would all be torn limb from limb by possums. Imagine a world where possums roam at will. <br />
<br />
Disgusting. I have to go now; I hear the blackhead pig screaming for her dinner. If I fail to return to provide this essay with an adequate conclusion, it is because the blackhead pig has eaten my fingers.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-88614519306161835692009-11-02T13:54:00.004-05:002009-11-02T14:22:28.156-05:00John 3:19I arose long before dawn, in the fog enshrouded dark, from my warm air mattress alongside the radiator. Consoling my groggy innards with coffee as hot as the morn was not, and as dark as the window through which, with sleep begrimed eyes I watched, I balanced my shotgun, breeched, upon my knee. For some time I sat upon a stool, watching nearsightedly for some stirring near a white fence that loomed monolithically in the mist.<br />
<br />
The hillcrest became a black line contrast. A buck placidly eased along it. Another followed. Then suddenly my eyes were snatched by the trap at the periphery of my vision. In it wiggled a white- faced vermin. I had the satisfaction of having stopped this threat to my chickens, but was nevertheless burdened by the duty that I now had to execute.<br />
<br />
I donned my marine-corps sweatshirt and stocking hat, belted on my jeans, and shut the breech of my shotgun with a determined click that announced its latent power. Too powerful: at the gun-case I traded it for a restrained but equally reliable .22. In my rubber boots I rounded the house. The possum faced me from its cage, a white circle of fur with malevolent black angled slits of eyes that held hatred and sure knowledge of what was to come. Not afraid, not sad, the possum awaited me head-on, angry that it had been suckered by this inferior creature, but resolute in the knowledge of its fate.<br />
<br />
"Im sorry possum," I said, looking it in the face, and took direct aim at its forehead. Josie the cat appeared, rubbing around my boots and looking at the possum. "Go on Josie," I said, not wanting her to see what I had to do, nor to be startled by the gunshot. She did not listen, so I walked a distance to get her to follow. I left her sitting near the porch. I had to act now before she returned to be an outward judge of my inward compunction. <br />
<br />
I clicked back the safety, took four quick strides towards the possum, formed an E upon its face with the sights of the rifle, and shot it. The possum whipped around, dying. I had hit it straight through the head, but I wanted no risk of it suffering, and fired twice more. The second shot blew its jaw half way off, and it bled heavily. One sure look confirmed the deed, and I lingered not one second more. I safed the rifle while turning immediately around, and as I stepped grimly, one step after another, I could not keep my head from hanging.<br />
<br />
It is not possums' fault that they are evil, but nevertheless they are evil. they would gut 50 of my chickens in a few minutes, just for the fun of it, and eat only a mouthful. It had to be done.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-78349196502866993772009-10-29T15:52:00.002-04:002009-10-29T15:57:36.168-04:00I'm starting to get the feeling...That this 'Higgins' character is a figment of my imagination. He's the 'Tyler Durden' of ACNS. I've got some 'homework assignments' to take care of...L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-71966957402211546162009-10-29T11:04:00.003-04:002009-10-29T11:07:36.766-04:00Exciting Business Opportunity!As any mildly internet-saavy person understands, unsolicited emails from people who are waaaay to excited about what they have to offer are usually some sort of ploy to steal your money or identity. <i>Ususally.</i><br /><br />About once in a person's lifetime, there arrives an opportunity. I'm not talking about your usual daily opportunities to drink an exceptionally delicious cup of coffee or put on your favorite pair of pants. No, this is much bigger - this is a <i>ONCE IN A LIFETIME </i>opportunity. The proof is in the description - these things only happen about once in a lifetime or so - Redundant, I know, but I want to make sure you understand.<br /><br />Since I work in the pre-owned medical equipment industry, these unsolicited emails show up in my inbox on a regular basis - usually, they end up right in the digital trash can for virtual incineration. Most of these emails are foriegners looking to steal equipment from my company by "purchasing" it with no intention of paying for it. But I just recieved one that was different. This email is from a supplier here in the US that's going to make me a rich man. I'll let you have a look, just promise me you won't tell anyone about it. I'm going to suprise my parents with a new house with all the sweet cash money I'll be rollin' in. Check it:<br /><br /><blockquote><span style=" ;font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size:13px;">Mr. Hanessey,<br />Rocket Sprockets, Inc. is an international supplier of partially used medical equipment. We supply over one billion hospitals, clinics, prisons, and resorts with middle-of-the-line syringes, plastic tubing, spoons, bunson burners, and douches. I am also proud to say that we have practically cornered the market on prior-owned proctological equipment!<br />We are interested in using you as our regional consultant for acquisitions for this region. You would receive commisions for all acquisitions made within this solar system (excluding Uranus, and Pluto which scientists have conclusively proven to not exist).<br />If you are interested in starting a new and exciting relationship with Rocket Sprockets, Inc., call me any time, night or day and we can 'grease the wheels' for the most lubritive business adventure of your life!<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Roger D. Riordan<br />Staff Manager<br />1-800-666-1234<br /></span></span></blockquote><div><br /></div>It's time to start anew. I know that THIS is what I was made to do - my destiny, if you will. That, and I've always wanted to work for a company with a catchy name like "Rocket Sprockets". True happiness is right around the corner with this promise of a 'once in a lifetime' opportunity & I'm not going to let this pass me by...L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-29058727632572282452009-10-27T16:49:00.001-04:002009-10-27T16:56:56.421-04:00Foods I love, part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SudJU9d8DoI/AAAAAAAAAGg/meFHOck99gw/s1600-h/Skyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/SudJU9d8DoI/AAAAAAAAAGg/meFHOck99gw/s400/Skyline.jpg" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />As an addition to my running posts regarding "<a href="http://acatnamedsteve.blogspot.com/2009/09/foods-i-hate-part-i.html">Foods I hate</a>" (<a href="http://acatnamedsteve.blogspot.com/2009/10/foods-i-hate-part-ii.html">part 2 here</a>), I have decided to escape the often-negative voice that many of my posts embody and show my positive side. Therefore, logic would dictate a post about foods that I love. These are foods that I am always willing to hastily absorb into the bottomless pit of my beautifully man-figured body at any moment of any day. I will share with you the foods that make my world go 'round, and since I am quite eligible at the moment, a sneak-peek at the quickest way to my heart.<br /><br /><b>Skyline Chili</b><br />Yeah, I know there's 850 calories in just one of these bad boys (not to mention the 320 that go with the obligatory cheese coney appetizer), but I just can't get enough Skyline chili. Who would have thought that a soupy meat sauce flavored with cinnamon and chocolate laid to rest on a thick bed of spaghetti noodles and topped with copious amounts of shredded cheese could be so addicting? If you don't like Skyline Chili, we're no longer friends. If you dare suggest Gold Star Chili as an acceptable substitute for Skyline, I will punch you in the kidneys. Skyline or Bust.<br /><br /><b>Chipotle Burritos</b><br />You think Skyline is bad for calories? Try one of these giants on for size. According to the "<a href="http://www.chipotlefan.com/index.php?id=nutrition_calculator">Chipotle Nutrition Calculator 2.0</a>", my weapon of choice boasts 1015 calories in a single burrito. On certain occasions, I have been known to toss down 2 in one sitting, but since that borders on gluttonous behavior, I have decided to henceforth refrain from such activities. Throw in some of the Chipotle Tabasco sauce and I'm in heaven.<br /><br /><b>Goetta</b><br />What do you get when you take a bunch of leftover scrap pork, mix it with steel-cut oats & shape it into a fryable loaf? That's right - God's gift to Cincinnati. At first glance, Goetta seems like a way for peasant-like people to get the most out of all of their butchering scraps by seasoning them and adding oats as a filler, but this is far from accurate. No - Goetta is for the highest of classes. Originally labelled as a breakfast food as a substitute for sausage or bacon, goetta has broken from the stereotypes and forced it's way into the lunch/dinner/midnight snack discussion. It's gotta be <a href="http://www.goetta.com/">Glier's Goetta</a> though...anything else pretty much tastes like crap.<br /><br /><b>Cereal</b><br />Here's another example of a food item that has broken from the breakfast-only realm of sustenance to an all-day-any-day type of nourishment. So many people will agree with this one that I will just let it ride...<br /><br /><b>Broccoli</b><br />Wanna see a food that has a bad reputation for no reason? Broccoli's your man. However, I've stuck with it through thick and thin, and we've become best buds. No matter which way it's prepared, I'm always up for a little broccoli action; raw, steamed, casserol'd, baked, fried, boiled - all are delicious. The only exception to this is the occasional large stem with which some heads are endowed. The simple remedy for this is to cut them in cross-sections and pretend they're little edible turtles. That always makes my day just a little brighter.<br /><br />I could go on and on for days about foods I love, but I will end my list here because I'm salivating too heavily to continue. Stay tuned for another installment of "Foods I love"!L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-84934612484105833312009-10-27T16:38:00.002-04:002009-10-27T16:41:15.937-04:00Domo ArigatoYou know what makes me sick?<br /><br />You know what makes me so angry, I just want to go out and buy one of those large flying saucer looking <a href="http://www.alibaba.com/product/eurosales-11095014-10761240/productdetail.html">vacuum cleaners</a> that finds its own way to all the dust in my house while I sit around fattening myself up on Tabasco Slim Jims and Mountain Dew?<br /><br />This robot.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HKbS7MIIXMY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HKbS7MIIXMY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Really, what's the deal here? What? Are humans not good enough to dance goofy around a spinning football? Does the robot really do a better "The Fish" than a real human being? <br /><br />I see what's really going on here. The evil modern media has long been trying to anthropomorphize animals. Now NFL on Fox has taken it a step further by trying to convince us that this dancing image of a robot is basically a person too. 'A little harsh,' you say, because a lot of people have said that to me lately? 'No!' I say, because I've seen the evolution of this accursed robot. First NFLOF had this stupid robot mimic a football player warming up. Then it moved on to more human activities like writing poetry and finding true love. Now it's dancing. What's the end game here? Is every object going to be said to possess humanity except humans?<br /><br />Wake up, America!!<br /><br />I got so mad watching this robot dance during the Bengals butt-whipping of the Bears, that, feeling like DDR's version of John Connor, I grabbed a football to prove that at least one human had moves more <a href="http://acatnamedsteve.blogspot.com/2009/10/hes-back.html">smoove</a> than a robot. Lucas jumped up to join the resistance, and Steve got so hyped up by our action he flew across the basement to see what was happening. Lucas sprained an ankle, I lost all sense of direction, hit a wall and knocked myself unconscious, and Steve got so covinced the football was actually a dustbunny that he ended up popping it with his fangs. Scared him so bad he shot off quicker than <a href="http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808461950/info">Astro Boy</a>. We haven't seen him since. Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, for taking away our cat. I tell you NFL on Fox is just wrong.<br /><br />This is Bill E, native human, E off.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-62844866886044049692009-10-26T20:12:00.000-04:002009-10-26T20:12:08.189-04:00Many apologies...Apparently I don't have a clue what's going on with my own blog. Our new author's name is Higgins, <i>not</i> John Mikel or whatever I said before...That's right - Higgins.<br />
<br />
I don't think he has a last name, but it definitely isn't Mikel. Although "Higgins Mikel" would sound pretty cool and probably pick up ladies with ease.L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-84046651777485750962009-10-26T13:41:00.004-04:002009-10-26T14:23:44.248-04:00The ChallengeI made a bet this weekend, and probably one that I will lose. This weekend, I spent some time with a man highly regarded by those of us here at ACNS Enterprises, LTD, and slightly less importantly, the entire world. I'm always searching for ways to improve the "ACNS Experience" (as I like to call it), as well as increase the amount of readers who want to hear what all of our authors have to say. <div><br /></div><div>The aforementioned bet is less of a bet and more of a challenge, in which my personal part is minimal, since I was the "challenger" instead of the "challengee". The aforementioned man is none other than Mr. John Mikel, who happens to be none other than "<a href="http://acatnamedsteve.blogspot.com/2009/10/bucks-coolest-person-of-october-award.html">Buck's Coolest Person of October</a>". The challenge is that if John were to start writing for the blog, his primary job would be to double our readership in a month. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now since we don't have ads on the blog, the overall traffic numbers don't really matter to us/me at all. It's really an excuse to add another writer to the blog. I expect to read pee-your-pants-at-work quality copy from a distinguished and well-educated man. The snot-bubbles-blowing-out-your-nose-because-you're-laughing-extremely hard-while-you-have-a-cold posts are coming. Prepare yourself for something slightly less than what you expect from me on a daily basis and let's welcome this handsome sonufagun to the blog. We'll see what sort of traffic-attracting powers he can bring to the table...</div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-40021418379264725952009-10-21T15:55:00.004-04:002009-10-21T15:57:36.758-04:00*****DISCLAIMER*****<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/St9nXn9AwTI/AAAAAAAAAGY/IkOdeal3nkc/s1600-h/hamburger+cake.jpg"></a><div>I would just like to thank those of you (and yes, there were a couple) who expressed <i>real </i>concern for Bill's & my relationship. We're doing just fine now, and no, I don't need a place to stay for a few days while we both "think things over" or "let the situation cool down a bit"...</div><div><br /></div><div>For those of you that actually did think that Bill & I were fighting, The joke is on you. It just seems eerily silent around here, save for Brian's post breaking the awkward exchange of faux venom.</div><div><br /></div><div>On another note, as Brian mentioned, it is in fact my birthday today. I have turned the ripe old age of 26. I want to give a shout out to Teddy who bought me Chipotle for lunch today. I would also like to give a shout out to my coworkers for buying me this wonderfully delicious cake decorated like a hamburger...complete with real sesame seeds on the bun...</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/St9nXn9AwTI/AAAAAAAAAGY/IkOdeal3nkc/s1600-h/hamburger+cake.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qcgeBD5he-g/St9nXn9AwTI/AAAAAAAAAGY/IkOdeal3nkc/s320/hamburger+cake.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395144534172680498" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-15703135996243834772009-10-21T15:35:00.002-04:002009-10-21T15:55:07.294-04:00All's Well That Ends WellI think an apology of my own is in order. <div><br /></div><div>Growing up, I was always taught to be the bigger man, and in this case, I have failed miserably. I now realize that my <i>ad hominem</i> attacks on Bill regarding him stealing my hat were unfounded and untrue. I love that hat so much, and it really hurts me to not be able to wear it anymore. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bill, I'm sorry. I've been very short with you as of late, and I've failed to respect you despite our disagreements over the past few weeks. I don't know how we got here - It's obvious that our personal feelings of lonliness have pulled us apart, and I hate it. Love is about giving, and all I've been doing is taking from you and everyone else. I've been dragging you down with negativity and spiteful actions, which are no good for either of us, much less Steve. you can tell that he just can't stand being around us by the way he yearns to leave the house anytime either of us walk by a door. </div><div><br /></div><div>I need my friend back too. Please forgive me and my shortcomings, Bill. I know it won't be easy to heal these wounds, but I'm willing to give it 110% to make things right with you again. I bought <i>Braveheart</i> on VHS today. Can you say roommate movie night with a couple beers? Let's make this work.</div><div><br /></div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-12925060526006017812009-10-21T13:06:00.006-04:002009-10-21T13:46:27.353-04:00Yeah, You're Probably RightOk, I got a good night sleep and did some thinking. I'll admit I've been a little harsh lately. Friends have even told me so. <br /><br />I think you're right: the problem is that we haven't been talking. Remember all those long discussions we used to have over cocoa on those cold winter nights? Steve purring at your feet and Lifetime on in the background? I miss those days. Maybe they'll come back now that winter is on it's way. <br /><br />It's been so frigid in the house lately. We walk past each other like the other isn't even there. When we do talk it's only to scream accusations. We've become overly dependant on our other friends and Mincher's getting annoyed. I try to be insensitive just to take the edge off the loneliness. I put on the de-caf coffee just so you'd notice me again. I admit it was a cry for attention. I need my friend back. <br /><br />*************************************************************<br />On a side note, if anyone, ANYONE, out there has Lucas' Nebraska hat, please give it back to him! I'm beginning to fear for my life! I slept with the light on last night just so he wouldn't come in with a knife!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-35179898569112312262009-10-21T11:16:00.004-04:002009-10-21T12:12:10.344-04:00To Bill:Dear Ungrateful Jerk,<div><br /></div><div>You think this is a little game? You think I'm just playing around? Well, I'm not. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know why you insist on making this a public issue. This would have all blown away like a fart in the wind if you had just posted a real apology instead of some half-hearted sarcastic on your opinion of me, which I wish I would have known about earlier. Your passive-agressiveness is very becoming of you. I bet keeping all those feelings bottled up inside is pretty satisfying - especially when you can take somebody down with you when you finally explode.</div><div><br /></div><div>To re-iterate my point in my previous post - I've been nothing but good to you, and all I get is stabbed in the back in return. Go ahead, give that knife another twist. I'm a glutton for punishment.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you had only told me of these "issues" of yours before they became issues, things could probably have gone a lot smoother - I'm completely willing to change & improve myself - unlike SOME people. In the year-plus that we've been roommates, I've been nothing but upfront with you. I hope you realize and appreciate that. Not likely. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, this DID start with me losing my Nebraska hat - or rather YOU stealing it. I know you're jealous of how cool it is, and how good I look with it on. Don't blame me for my style. Maybe show some originality and get your own style instead of physically stealing other people's. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry if it seems like I'm over reacting, but I wish you would just understand my frustrations...<i>talk to me</i>! </div>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-71147551834194324852009-10-20T22:35:00.006-04:002009-10-20T23:00:01.627-04:00An “Open Letter” to LucasDear Blog Czar,<br /><br />I quickly recognized alright. Quickly recognized “Senor Thin-Skin” is too angry about his Nebraska hat to see straight. <br /><br />I see what this really about: you’re angry about the coffee, is that it? Well maybe if you were a little nicer to me in the morning things like that wouldn't happen. Yeah, it's time to grow up, Dude. People make mistakes, alright? If I’m a little too irked by the way you constantly conform yourself to web norms by doing things like writing open letters, and I take it out on-line, is that really your business? Who cares if it’s “your” website? It's not all about you, ok? That's the "real" story. Chill, man, seriously. Pull out your hair (good luck with that, btw. Got some tweezers, Cue-ball?) about people misusing Steve's name instead.<br /><br />And I am NOT insensitive.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-1418488901017346772009-10-20T21:56:00.005-04:002009-10-20T22:10:12.884-04:00MY side of the storySome people are so damn insensitive. You know what? I didn't even ask Bill if he wanted to write in the blog. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">He asked ME</span></span> to write on <span style="font-weight: bold;">MY</span> blog. Of course, in order to avoid a potentially awkward situation by saying no, I had to agree. I have known Bill for nearly 14 years, and I knew, <span style="font-style: italic;">I just knew</span> that it would turn out this way if he ever started writing on ACNS. He undermined my authority, and acted like it was some sort of joke. He's <span style="font-weight: bold;">always</span> acting like it's some sort of freaking joke. I'm about to pull out my hair I'm so frustrated.<br /><br />You really think that apology was sincere? I have a hard time believing anything that comes out of his mouth lately. He's been intentionally screwing with me for the past week, and I've had enough.<br /><br />Bill, I have HAD IT! I'm tired of waking up to you making <span style="font-style: italic;">decaf</span> coffee in the mornings, not pulling your weight around the house, and especially for hiding my Nebraska hat - that's just plain mean dude...I expect a <span style="font-style: italic;">real </span>apology this time. And this time, lets hear the real story about what's been going on, instead of some concocted, convoluted story portraying me as a "Blog Czar" or some sort of crazy tyrant. I've been nothing but generous to your sorry little @$$.<br /><br />You better recognize <span style="font-style: italic;">quick.</span>L Hennesseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136805757015816166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-233724811163464581.post-80809081472466089252009-10-20T20:07:00.010-04:002009-10-20T22:59:27.765-04:00From the Bottom of My HeartOk, so APPARENTLY an apology is in order. It appears that a guy can't really write what he feels on a blog about how some guys feel. Or maybe it's just that my feelings don't matter and Lucas' feelings do.<br /><br />ANYWAY, Mr. Blogczar McSensitivepants seems to think I somehow outright attacked him on ACNS today writing about open letters and he had just wrote an open letter and he's all like "boo-hoo" and "people won't understand because you're cool and I'm not". (Verbatim. Cross my heart.) I don't know at all what gave him the idea that I was going after him. As I CLEARLY said <a href="http://acatnamedsteve.blogspot.com/2009/10/open-letter-to-people-who-write-open.html">here</a>, I respect people who do what he did.<br /><br />But what I hear is that ACNS is supposed to present a "United Front" because "Unity Means Productivity" and "We're All In This Thing Together" so therefore "We Can't Have Any Backstabbing From Disgruntled Minions Because The Readers Will Think We're Too Morally Bankrupt To Read" and "I Can't Find My Nebraska Hat, Thief".<br /><br />Is this all true? Debatable, but perhaps my digression is in order at this time, since I don't own this blog. I have to admit that Lucas did win it in a poker game with a Columbian Special Forces Op. who had a cat named Steve, so maybe I should give him an apology.<br /><br />Harrumph.<br /><br />I should be clear to all ACNS readers. Lucas' and my relationship is actually GREAT at this time. Never better. I'm going clean every inch of this frickin' house <span style="font-style: italic;">right now</span>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0