Black Friday

I have to admit, as much as I like shopping, I hate it.

To be so hedonistic gives such sinful pleasure.  While I enjoy seeing the look on someone's face receive that "special" gift, it's nothing compared to the look of passer-by's in the mall as you drop X amount of dollars at the mall, store, or wherever you spend your money.  For a bit of that envious glare from unknown strangers, you buy the cow, the harness, and two bales of hay.  And for that, I hate it.

I hate wanting to gain that stupid satisfaction that comes from a stranger's glance.  That sneer that one develop's when you know you got what some Joe Schmo doesn't have quite yet.  It's a dirty feeling and I feel like shouting "Out damn spot; out!".  The wife and I did Black Friday and for all the little gifts we got for our family and friends, I have a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

I just read about the Wal-Mart worker was trampled to death upon the store's opening today.  As much as I like a deal, how much humanity have we lost to step upon a human being in order to garner a few $2 DVDs and a really big and flat TV for $400.  Let's be honest folks; none of those people out this morning were in dire need of those things.  Yes, I love a deal too, but c'mon...someone died.  Imagine being in that crowd of over 2.000 who rushed in when the doors were unlocked.  I wasn't there, but I did say unlocked, not exactly opened.  

Imagine being in that pent-up energy, building up as the seconds tick by, hearing the two ladies next to you voice their plan about hitting such and such area first.  Suddenly, there's a hush as the blue vested man approaches the doors.  He unlocks them and begins to open them.  Hell is thusly unleashed.  The crowd rushes through, the smell of deals and saved money awaiting to be spent on on countless other deals tickles the adrenal glands just enough for a squirt of that lively juice.  Elbows get pushed, voices raise over the din and suddenly you feel something rubbery on under your footsteps.  You glance down and see some blue but can't stop due to the wave of humans following you and fifty others' path.  Tragedy befalls us.

I actually had a few other things I had hoped to write about, but those all seemed trivial in comparison.  My thoughts and prayers to any and all who were physically hurt today in our attempt to save as much money as possible to garner as much crap to give to others.

Excuse me; I'm going to go wash my hands and brush my teeth again.

Playing Guitar: Not so easy

Tom is quite proud of me.  My callouses are building up nicely.  

It's been almost two months since I started really practicing playing guitar, and it's been going quite well.  

I don't know everything; it's almost frustrating to not be able to play certain songs because I can't play certain chords well.  I'm having most of my troubles with F and B chords and barre chords.  But, being able to play my little collection is still rewarding.  In fact, playing a few songs, my wife even sang along (she sings a bit better than me some might say).

My wife was so proud when I took that sheaf of papers and organized it into a little black folder.  Close to thirty songs, they are basics.  I'm also learning some solos, but they aren't as easy as the performers make it seem.  Such artistry and talent, I've yet to reach that potential.  Still, I was able to impress my wife's nephew with the riff from "Beat It".  

Duh-da-da-da-duh; duh-da-da-da! Duh-da-da-da-duh; duh-da-da-da! 

"They told us 'Doncha ever come 'round here...Don't wanna see your face; you betta disappear..."

Fall Out Boy's version is okay with John Mayer, but doesn't touch the original.  

White glove is optional.