I went to yet another wedding over the weekend. The marriage of Geoff Cook to Heather Michaud (Heather is Carolyn's sister). Luckily I didn't have to be part of the wedding party itself, but I did help out by supplying the sound system for the reception. I suppose that the benefits of being a temporarily retired semi-pro musician is that you have plenty of things that make lots of noise. But that's not what I want to ramble about.

After the wedding and the reception I was lured back to the Bride's parent's house by the promise of free food. Unfortunately the entrees were simply four-hour leftovers from the reception, but you know me and free food, I enjoyed every bite. While I was there I got to meet a bunch of the Bride's extended family, and as it turns out most of her father's family are extremely fundamentalist Christian. The mother's side is normal. I watched one of the inept, social skilless religious fanatics corner one of the 'cool kids' for an hour and a half with a discussion about video games (particularly the challenges of the video game version of the board game "Risk"). I could see that the normal dude wanted out, and I thought about helping him out of the conversation multiple times, but then my old lifeguard instincts kicked in and said: "Don't go in unless the scene is safe - otherwise instead of helping the kid you'll just become the second victim." I just knew that if I tried to get him out, I'd just get sucked into the conversation in the process. It's quite the emotional conundrum to be in: seeing someone in need of help, but rational enough to know that you just have to let him go... It's kind of like a war story, I hope after a couple of years I won't be having flashbacks.

Rock on

As I'm driving into my office this afternoon - yes, it was NOON, have I mentioned how much I love my job? Too bad it's almost over. But back to my story... So I'm in my pickup truck and the song "Good Riddance" by Greenday comes on the radio. I'm sure most of you have heard it, it's the tune that blends all of the successful musical variables (fake British accents, violins, an accidental outtake intro, and heroin) into one tantalizing arrangement that repeats the "I hope you had the time of your life" chorus as if it were a magical password that opens up the gates of both Heaven and Hell.

I've gone off on this rant before, so if you've already heard it, congratulations, you win a snowcone...

So here's what cracks me up about this song. When it first came out sometime in the mid/late '90s, the punk community was outraged! Here you have a "Punk" band playing a string-accompanied prom-dance ballad instead of the usual two and a half minute ditty about setting stuff on fire. But here's the thing: when punk first emerged as a musical genre back in the '70s, it was all about rebellion and pissing people off, primarily society as a whole. But as time's gone by, this once small tribe of punkish people has turned into an entire society in and amongst itself. So Greenday, a punk band, writes a tune that pisses off this new punk culture/society. THEY OUT PUNKED THE PUNKS!

If punk music is anything that it started out to be (and what the 'punks' of our day still say that it is), than this is the greatest punk song written in the last 15-20 years. It's something designed to irritate the culture of the time, and obviously it succeeded.

So next time you're at the local skatepark, library, or petting zoo (or wherever the punks hang out in your neighborhood) I urge you to look past their fashionably spiked hair and trendy offensive jacket buttons and see them as just as you would see yourself, an individual equally adapt at getting "punked." While you're at it, give this person a hug, chances are that they are so depressed from 1) being outpunked by Greenday, 2) years of physical abuse by the smallest kid in their 3rd grade class, and 3) the rising cost of hair dye that they need someone to hold them and say "Everything's gonna be OK."

That's all for now - keep rockin' and rollin'

I'm unofficially done with Grad school now. I turned my last paper in yesterday. For some reason it hasn't hit me yet that I'm completely done - so I think I'll wonder around and make fun of the other people that:
1) Are still studying for remaining finals,
2) Finished all their finals, but aren't done with school, or
3) Finished their finals AND their school, but drive a mini-van.

Rock on...

So here we go with round two...

I have a bad habbit of throwing in the towel fairly early on things like this - you know, it seems like a good idea and then over the course of a week or two I gradually forget about it altogether. I definately don't proclaim to be a writer, but at the same time I do enjoy waisting time; so perhaps if I keep telling myself that THIS is a waiste of time, it will keep me motivated to write (I know that makes about as much sense as a an underwater drinking fountain, but it seems quite clear in my 'ol noggin, which I guess is the important thing).

On a much lighter - and definately less philosophical - note, I'm getting ready to graduate with a Master's degree in Public Administration, in fact graduation is set for this coming Saturday (it's Tuesday today). I'm sure that there are plenty of bennifits of obtaining such a degree, but to be honest I could really care less at this point. The only thing that half way facinates me about be a "Master" is the idea of printing my next batch of checks with name: "Lee M. Vander Boegh, MPA"

Speaking of Masters degrees, how did they come to get that name? You may have noticed by my quotations at the end of my last paragraph that I find the word itself very misleading. For instance, I will be a master of public administration. Does that mean that I have 'Mastered' administrating public agencies, making me a know-it-all? I've never set foot in a government agency (sans a brief internship), so what the heck do I know about administering them? Definately not enough to say I've 'Mastered' it, that's for darn sure. Also, "Master" implies "Ultimate," which is yet another farce because those that have Ph.D.s are higher up the educational scale than us lowly masters.

So let's highlight this heirarchy: A doctor (Ph.D.) is better than a Master, a Master is better than a Bachelor, a Bachelor is better than a High School Diploma, a High School Diploma is better than a G.E.D., and a G.E.D. is better than nothing. So ideally that makes me the master of those lowly single men (Bachelors) and their high school subordinates, but I still salute a doctor. This makes absolutely no sense.

Why don't they just do away with the names and give us categories of education? It could be like bra sizes:
- Cup Size - Education Equivolent
- A - GED
- B - High School Diploma
- C - Bachelor's Degree
- D - Master's Degree
- DD - Ph.D.
This would make for much more enjoyable discussions about education: "Hey Bob, get a load of that C cupper, he thinks just cuz he has a degree he can just walk on in here and tell you and me what to do!?" Of course these categories are also very related to their mamorial equivolents as well:
- Cup Size/Degree - Notes
- A/GED - Doesn't flash what they don't have.
- B/Diploma - "More than a handful of school is too much"
- C/Bachelor - Like cleaveage, if you got it, flaunt it
- D/Masters - Beats a C, but gets in the way of running
- DD/ Ph.D. - Probably just fake anyways.

Until next time, keep rocking and rolling.

Being how this is the first time I have ever actually written anything that could be viewed by others, I find myself in an odd predicament. Do I ramble on about a bunch of junk that nobody really gives half a rat's arse about? Should I cough up the inner mucus of my mind and hope for something semi-coherent? Or should I make up and entertaining and witty story that really doesn't apply to me, but will lure in the audience? Decisions decisions. But then again, that's what life's all about right? Making decisions, balancing goals/objectives, and trying to stay alive.

Hope ya'll enjoy the show.