Shiraz Would Go Nicely With Kitten

SO, I've been pairing wines with domesticated animals, "peppery, I bet cat tastes peppery!" Sinewy, too. I'm not sadistic and they eat dog in Korea, after all. (Non-sequitur?) What culture eats cat, anyway? None.

Andy thinks that Malbec would go with puppy, but I disagree. Puppy is too gamy. Perhaps a buttery Chard to compliment the after-taste of frisbee and cricket? Besides, Malbec needs to be paired with some creature that also naturally exists at elevations higher than 1,000 feet, like, oh, I don't know, goat. Does Mimosa go with hamster? Sure! This is Fun!

One time, Shoe and I gave his cat a White Russian, it was funny. NOW, I'm sadistic and probably going to hell. Interestingly enough, most people I've interviewed do not believe in hell. When I'm trying to satisfy an acquaintance's or stranger's or over-emotional friend's satiation for warm fuzzy feelings, I adhere to that "there is no hell—yay existentialism!" school of thought, too.

I have, however met a few despicable people who convinced me that, if I am to leave vengeance up to the Lord, there must in fact be some sort of hell. And I admit that his mentality is in it of itself vengeful, but it is also mean, right? Just like being ethical is mean. Thirsting for justice is wrong. Let's just ignore what C.S. Lewis said, "Mercy without justice, grows unmerciful." Justice requires critical thinking, and re-evaluation of paradigms, that's just a lot of work, isn't it?

The Culture of Feelings, is also a culture of laziness, and ignorance.

When and why did we become a Culture of Feelings? I've grown real tired of it. Moral obligation—even moral permissibility—has been completely dismantled and incinerated in some cases. I don't have a whole lot of emotion, maybe I use reason as an escape from this suffocating environment of perky—and obviously—medicated people. I really need some air.

Besides, I just ate my body weight in trail mix (thanks, Mom) it's time for a walk.

Bazaar, Nazis & Lemons

This morning, I was awakened at 0235 by my neighbors yelling and blasting their music. I am not sure why this corner of the building stirs so frequently in the 0200-0400 hours, but I don't like it. In fact, I feel a tad bit shanghaied. Despite sleep deprivation, though, I must say that I look like I just stepped out of Harper's Bazaar—too bad this campus hates fashion. Go to class in my pajamas, you say? No, thanks—I'd be naked. I digress.

Last week, maintenance was changing my smoke detector batteries, and the first thing they asked was, "how is it going with all of your neighbor's beer pong parties—that guy trashes every room he stays in—you should see the carpets! I hope someone warned you about this room, he is the reason no one wanted to live in this room."

No, no one warned me. Gee, thanks RMC housing, you keep me on my toes. Last year after you illegally searched my purse and bags, I began to view those people as a smaller Nazi Germany, but now, I've realized that it is more of a used car salesman mentality. "Here, have this lemon of a room. Oddly, it's been vacant all year."

I should get a discount. I mean, imagine if this apartment was property sold to me by a party that had full knowledge of the eye-sore (ear-sore) neighbors? I think that would be unethical, if not illegal. But then again, "morally obligatory" seems to mean less and less these days.

And I'm not making an extreme proposal of re-pricing rooms within an apartment complex, according to location, and view of the Rockies (I have a great view, by the way). I am, however, proposing that said obnoxious neighbor should've no longer been allowed to reside here. After all, maintenance said, "apartments," meaning he's previously lived here and in different rooms.

Whew.

Transfigulutheran

Lately, I've been filled with Schubert, and I would also like to be filled with Sherbert. This morning, at church, we were all filled with something alright—that enchanting Holy Ghost! Yes, it is hard to believe but during Hymn 877, "This Little Light of Mine," we all started clapping to the beat.

"Let it be noted that on this day, Sunday, February 14, 2010, Transfiguration Sunday, the Holy Spirit moved the Lutherans to clap on the down beat..." - Pastor Eric

Lisa Simpson once created Lutherans in her science experiment in "Treehouse of Horror VII." Well, I feel as if this morning we re-created or unveiled something rather marvelous. Behold, the Transfigulutheran! Super Lutheran, who, while remains traditionally stoic, now has the ability to clap—on beat—to hymns.

I really hope this happens again. I want to hang out with the Holy Spirit more often, but not in a dead way. :)