I think the whole world's gone mad.
Uh-Uh. It's always been like this. You probably just don't get out enough.

Sexton and Death in Neil Gaiman's Death: High Cost of Living*]

Death is probably right. But in Sexton's defense, he has never seen the world before with Death as his guide.

Most of us go through life seeing the world only through our own eyes. This is what I see so this must be the way it is. Your only view of the world is your own interpretation of events and surroundings.

Sexton is one lucky guy. Sure, he's a despondent, black-souled, angst ridden teenager, just one crappy lyric short of being Kurt Cobain. But he gets the delicious treat of meeting Death, the perkiest otherwordly being this side of Katie Couric.

Death - spending her one day a year among the mortals - saves Sexton from a rather dubious exit from life and they make their way together through the city, going off on surreal adventures and playing out a modern, mystical version of It's a Wonderful Life.

So Sexton gets to see life through Death's eyes and it turns out that life is pretty magical. Pure irony there, being shown the wonders of life by Death herself, eh?

Imagine if you had a guide; someone who would spend a day walking through cities with you, showing you all the things you didn't know where there. It's not enough to take someone else's eyes and watch what they see, you have to have the mind behind those eyes as well.

Say there are two people laying on the grass, staring up at a cloud. One person sees a fish, another a castle in the same cloud. They can describe what they see so the other person recognizes it as well - see, there's the fish's eye, and the fin....oh, yes! I see it! - but the other person can't see what's behind the vision. Sure, it's just a fish, but in the other person's mind, the fish has already been given a name (Frida) and she's swimming towards something (sunlight) but the evil dark lord (the cloud behind it) is going to snatch up Frida and eat her for lunch before she can get anywhere near that sunlight.

You keep those things to yourself, mostly. Your friend who is laying on the grass with you won't get the real feeling of the story. He won't know why you chose the name Frida or why Frida will never make it to the sun and he certainly won't know that you will proably spend the rest of the day imaging scenarios between Frida and the dark lord.

Sexton, depressed, morose and suicidal as he is, is quite a lucky guy. He gets to see life through someone else's mind. He gets to experience the magic that Death experiences. And by doing that, he is able to see the world outside of his narrow view.

The problem is not that Sexton didn't get out enough; it's that he didn't get out of his own mind enough. Yes, the world has always been mad. It's always been crazy.

Perhaps we can say we do have these guides and they are books and music and all kinds of mass media that let us see into the minds of others, let us travel along their paths and experience their unique experiences.

Yes and no. It is not the same as actually running through the city with Death looking for an old woman's lost heart. Our guided tours are vicarious.

I assume that when Sexton realized he was hanging out with Death he had to figure they were perfectly matched companions. After all here he was, trying to kill himself. And there she was, Death personified.

Turns out they each had a little more life in them than Sexton realized.

Which all begs a question. Do we really want to see the world through the minds of others? It might be a very uncomfortable thing, to take a day's journey with someone quite unlike you. It might even be more uncomfortable to see the world through the mind of someone who thinks exactly like you do. And if we are our own guides, how many of us are really comfortable with that?

When I was a child, I had all kinds of daydreams where I would hang out with magical people and live within their magical lives. I'm a bit more grounded in reality now, but not much. I believe the one stark difference between then and now is I no longer wish to see the world laid bare as it really is. I thought, once upon a time, that it would be infinitely cool to have a magical companion who could show me everything that lies beneath the facade, every bit of myth and lore and fantasy that is hidden by the harsh realities of the world. I just knew that underneath all the dirt and grime and everday boringness of life, there were things happening that only those who possessed a certain magic could see. Things happening right underneath our feet, right in front of our eyes, but we are too wrapped up in the ordinary to see the extraordinary.

The fear is that mixed in with the angels and faeries and exciting, noble creatures of some other realm (where everyone eats chunks of cheese and hunks of bread and golden, crunchy apples, because that is what every hero in every fantasy book eats), there are creatures like devils and ogres and perhaps even grues, waiting to devour you.

I had a dream once, when I was about twelve, that I was being led through a dark passageway by a lighted, winged fairy. Along the walls of the passageway were drawings that would come to life as the fairy's light landed on them. At first, the passage was filled with the sound of my giddy laughter, as I watched all kinds of funny, mystical creatures take wing and fly around me. But as we rounded a corner, the light played upon a creature so hideous that the site of its face knocked the wind out of me. I fell to the ground and as I did so, I caught site of the creature. He was staring at me through hideous eyes. Now that you have seen me, I will never let you forget me, is what he said. And I didn't forget him, which is obvious as I repeat this dream to you now.

And that is my fear. That taking a ride through life through someone else's vision would reveal hideous ogres that should have been left unseen.

I suppose that one can't get to see the knights and good witches without seeing the trolls as well. What I would give to run through the city with Death as my companion, living Death's adventures. What I would give to be Sexton, to have someone shake me and say, look at all the things you didn't know existed.

Still, would I do that if a fleeting glance in a glass building revealed myself to be a monster?

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Dear Andy,

I have set my blaster on fun!

In a completely unrelated note, Slipknot is on Jay Leno. Something really disturbing for that. Disturbing for Slipknot, I mean. Jay Leno? What's next? Touring with Jessica Simpson?

• The Mighty Geek celebrates his blogaversary by mentioning my boobs and trying to piss me off.

• Alan has a great new design.

• Thank you, Mrs. PedersonSandy.

• Thank you to the kind person who sent us Samurai Jack Season One.

• I do get good mail, and I am behind on responding to it, especially to the really great lady from Texas who wrote one of the best emails I have ever received. Tomorrow is the day I catch up on responding.

• Right now and right now only, I am giving away a free one month blogad on this site. First come first serve, starting...right....now! (Must be in email, not in the comments)

• Radio, radio.

• I think that we should all get X-Box Live and fight out our differences by playing Rainbow Six Three.

I was going to post some mail tonight, but I got so much mail in the past few hours that I think I'll just paraphrase them all into one neat little piece, and include some bits and pieces from other blogs that refrenced yours truly today:

You're an idiot if you are for gay marriage and you are also an idiot if you are pro-war and you're stupid for thinking that sarin gas means anything and you're stupid for not saying more about Lebanon terror plot. You're wrong on the war, you're wrong on gays, you're wrong on the Olympics. You want to turn America into a sewer, you are too jingoistic, you are a stupid flag waver, your kind will destroy America. You forgot to blog about A, B an C. You blogged too much about D, E and F. I'm on your side except when you say things like that, and I hate you except for that one thing you and I agree on. You really don't know what's good for you, I know what's good for you and I know what you really think and know better than you do. You are just a mindless drone for your party. You should be ashamed to say you are part of my party. You suck because you link to Blogger A and you suck because you didn't link to my story and I'm telling Blogger A that you still link to Blogger B and you should be ashamed of yourself for reading a person with views like that because he is going to destroy America, you know. Just like you. Except for when you like America and say things I like about it, then I love you.

When you choose to sit in the middle, you are an easy target for both sides. So while my hawkish posts get me grief from the left, my posts on gay marriage and other social issues get me grief from the right.

What I want to know is this? Are there other bloggers who get this kind of mail? Or do I just have a huge Kick Me sign on my ass?

And for those who keep are now claiming that I took down the comments on the gay marriage post because people didn't agree with me: try again. I think there are more comments on this blog as a whole disagreeing with me than agreeing. Find another argument to base your rants on. That one won't work because I have the proof right here to back it up.

I suppose I still have some liberal tendencies and that pisses off conservatives. It also pisses off the liberals, who can't understand how I can agree with them on some issues, but not all (yes, I am generalizing, so please stop assuming I am talking about you).

I think my favorite email was the one I got from a reader who was very confused as to how I can have such Republican ideas yet still list The Big Lebowski as one of my favorite movies. It was just so absurd, I had to laugh. It was almost as good as the one tonight from a young man who was so disturbed at the site of a Beastie Boys song on my radio station, that he vowed to not come back to the blog until I remove it.

Separation, people. Separate politics from everything once in a while. Separate it from movies and music and most of all, friendship. Accept that most people do not go in for groupthink. You'll be better off for it.

Anyhow, please make a note of a program change for the future. Today is the day I stopped giving a shit what other people think of me. Really. It's just not worth it.

And lest you think your email or comment or post made me or the baby Jesus cry, I am sorry to disappoint you, but this is probably the best mood I've been in in days. I just dropped about eighty pounds of guilt ridden baggage when I decided not to care about you anymore.

So we are flipping the channels and we come across WWE (the all encompassing wrestling conglomeration).

There is a person/actor/wrestler who pretends to be retarded. Part of the "story line" is making fun of him and making him appear to cry and be sad. They humiliate him, make fun of his being retarted, etc. The worst part is watching him act like retarded, because it comes off as horribly...what's the word I'm looking for? Ugly?

This is the absolute worst thing I have ever seen on a supposed entertainment show and that includes anything seen on FOX.

This is so many levels of wrong I think they created a new defintion of wrong.

But, hey. Here comes everybody's hero, The Rock, out to avenge the ridicule of the fake retarded kid.

Offensive. That's the word.

[I used to love wrestling. Maybe that would make a good blog post for tomorrow instead of the usual bitching?]

New playlist is up. It has a definite them, not sure what. Your job is to listen to the songs and give the playlist a name.

Meanwhile, look at this site and you'll see what I mean by themes. Your job is to come up with a title for a mix and I'll create that mix out of my music collection to put on the radio station. The playlist changes every night (time willing).

I'm going to start making a collection of the playlists. Perhaps I'll eventually end up with one for each of my moods and personalities.

Hey, check it out! The sun is still hanging in the sky. No tidal waves, earthquakes or massive fires.

Looks like we can finally cross gay people getting married off of the list of things people think will bring on armageddon.

Congratulations and best wishes to all the happy couples.

Update: People are fucking assholes, down to almost the very last one of you. The comments on this post are not only closed, they have been removed.

Welcome Home, Dad

Welcome Home, Dave's Dad. Thank you.

You may have noticed my new radio station on the left. It's a nifty little thing that lets you listen to a blogger's selection of songs without having to download them or download a separate player. It's all right there in flash.

Today's selection is a random one, taken from the first few songs that appeared on my playlist last night.

I'm thinking themes, so suggest one for tonight's selection. It doesn't have to be a specific genre theme, get creative. I have 5,000 plus songs to choose from so even if you suggested the theme of quantum physics as a standard form of currency, I would be able to come up with a list.

I know, that made no sense. It wasn't supposed to.

I'll also take specific song/band requests providing you don't ask me to offer up something ridiculous like Skid Row.

As you may recall (or not), last month I posted a few times about my attempt to get off of Paxil and Wellbutrin. I wrote about the withdrawals, the side affects, etc.

As progress reports go, I'll make this quick because I have a longer piece waiting on this: It's going well. All the withdrawal symptoms have long since gone and I weathered the cold turkey quitting without killing anyone.

Some of you -whether it be in the comments here, in email or on your own blogs - have decided to hold that part of my life over my head like a sword. Every time I am angry about something, I am guaranteed that somewhere in the blogosphere, someone is telling me to go back on the meds.

My anger is separate from the anxiety for which I was taking the medication. I would be reacting the same way whether I was still on the meds or not. Unfortunately, there is a whole lot in this world right now that is either pissing me off or making me sad. And that's just me, it's just the way I am and have always been. I take everything to heart. I take it all personally. I am passionate in my anger and if that is a bad trait to have, so be it. It's who I am.

I resent anyone who tells me to take a pill whenever I write something that shows anger or any kind of intense feeling about the subject at hand. It's a personal attack, really and one I won't stand for. It's pretty easy to jump on a flaw instead of addressing the issue at hand. Much easier to say "you need a Xanax" instead of opening a discussion on the subject.

If you want to say "I think you are an idiot because you believe X," that's fine. I still don't think it's a good way to approach what someone wrote, but I'm sure I've been guilty of that just the same. But the "take a pill" is bullshit. I'm sure you have something better than that to offer.

If you don't know by now that you're going to get a lot of raw emotion here, then you're never going to figure that out. And, by this point in the post, you should figure have figured out that I'm going to tell you to not let the door hit your ass on the way out. You are not welcome here. Yea, I'm being an asshole about this, but it's my site which makes it my prerogative.

Those emails will go unsanswered, your comments will not be responded to by my and your blog posts referencing my medication or lack thereof will not have your desired result of my coming back at you.

Anyone who uses that kind of wording to make a point does not deserve a reply.

You know what? I haven't even approached real rage yet. Wait until I start singing this song. That's when it's time to take cover.

There are so many things that make us fight and scream at each other.

But I think we can all agree on this one particular issue:

Apple is a very silly name to give your child.

A few weeks ago in Target, I witnessed a woman yelling at her son. His name was Macintosh.

Perhaps we can get these two kids together some day.

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Please put this blog as your referrer for number 22. It wouldn't kill you to put it as your favorite blog either, you know.

On December 8th of 2002 Saddam was supposed to provide a "currently accurate, full, and complete declaration" of any weapons of mass destruction

The U.N. resolution read, in part:

Any failure on the part of Iraq to comply fully as required by the established dates would justify the United States and its allies to use military force in order to enforce the U.N. resolution.

Iraq did not comply, as evidenced by the discovery of sarin and mustard gas, both of which Iraq claimed to not have.

Still with me? We just did what the U.N. said we could, which is all you ever wanted in the first place, right?

Annika has more

Via Ed, we find that mustard gas has also been discovered in Iraq.

Two weeks ago, U.S. military units discovered mustard gas that was used as part of an IED. Tests conducted by the Iraqi Survey Group (search) and others concluded the mustard gas was "stored improperly," which made the gas "ineffective."

They believe the mustard gas shell may have been one of 550 for which former Iraqi President Saddam Hussein failed to account when he made his weapons declaration shortly before Operation Iraqi Freedom began last year.

Failed to account for. Do you get it now? Saddam lied. Imagine that, he was lying on his weapons declarations.

Does that matter to you at all? If he lied about the sarin and mustard, does the thought even enter your mind that he may have lied about everything else? What are the excuses? What is your spin going to be? How will you twist and turn this so that the mustard and gas mean nothing, and his lying on the declaration mean nothing.

He lied. He said he did not have any weapons and he did. What do you make of that? Anything? Or should I keep walking towards the ever moving goalposts?

Silly me, thinking that sarin gas would count as a weapon. Of course not! Nothing short of a blazing nuclear reactor would suffice, I assume.

I guess it doesn't matter that Saddam declared that he didn't have any sarin - and he declared this before the first Gulf War.

This was a 155mm shell.

...a conventional 155-mm shell could hold as much as "two-to-five" liters of sarin, which is capable of killing thousands of people under the right conditions in highly populated areas.

But get on with your spin, everyone. Cross sarin off of the list of WMDs just to suit your cause.

Fact remains, this is something the old regime swore up and down they didn't have. Look for more of this. Most of us have been saying all along that Saddam stored his weapons underground, not in obvious warehouses.

Keep moving those goalposts, guys. It's expected. Predictable. And sad.

Update: Someone in the comments at Command Post makes a good point:

The problem is that now the insurgents know they have chemical weapons, and you can bet that they will be checking through their stockpiles. I’m not surprised Army is downplaying this - the potential for harm is huge, even more from the psychological than the physical effects - imagine 2000 dead from a sarin release in a marketplace.

Exactly. Do you really think this the only instance of sarin to be found? And for those who are downplaying this by saying it's "only" sarin:

Sarin is a human-made chemical warfare agent classified as a nerve agent. Nerve agents are the most toxic and rapidly acting of the known chemical warfare agents.

Laurence's comment here is worth repeating in the post:

I challenge anyone who claims this was not a WMD to rent a movie theater, gather up their family and friends and neighbors and everyone who means anything to them, ask everyone to take a seat, and set the thing off in the middle of the room.

(Make the movie Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 911, just for S&G.)

Anyone who makes it out alive from that theater is more than welcome to bitch that it isn't a chemical WMD. You'll be able to count those survivors on the fingers of the missing hands of prisoners Saddam had amputated and mutilated for writing against his regime.

Well, let's see what some of the left bloggers have to say about this event.

Whoops. Nevermind. Guess they haven't heard about it yet. Or they are just ignoring it.

Today at Garrulitas (the conversation blog), they are expanding on yesterday's thoughts about the Olympics, while conversing about humanism, evil and pride.

Fox is reporting that a roadside bomb filled with sarin went off in Iraq.

Now where in the world did that sarin come from if Saddam didn't have any? Unless, of course, he did.

It looks like the insurgents who set off the bomb had no idea it was filled with nerve gas, which is not surprising, as Saddam and Co. loved to hide their non conventional means of murder inside conventional weapons.

Now, who wants to take bets on how long it takes some leftie to claim that the nerve gas was planted by US operatives in order to make it look like Saddam had WMDs?

Update: Hey, they are at it already!

Marc, in the comments on this post about that whiny, wretched Canadian friend of yours, you point to my "retirement" as a warblogger as proof that your friend was right.

Wrong.

She was implying that the silence of warbloggers was indicative of some loss - that perhaps we were now silenced by shame, or a sense of loss in the war.

No, I think that sometimes most of us just get tired of feeling outraged all the time, especially when people like Antonia act as if we have no right to feel all the things we do; pride towards people like Pat Tillman and outrage towards people like Michael Moore.

It gets frustrating and sometimes I want to stop but it in no way means that my views on the war on terror are any different, or that I feel any less pride in my country and gratitude towards our soldiers than I did before.

If you are going to use Antonia's column as some kind of jumping off point to whip yourself into a frenzy ringing the warblogger death knell, you should first read a few of those blogs that Antonia points to.

Sorry, Marc. We are not going away. And even if we do go away briefly, it's not because you won this round of checkers and we're taking our board and going home. Sometimes some of us just need to rest and regroup and gather our strength for another round of battle with the likes of you and yours.

In fact, it was mainly warbloggers who linked to and posted this story at Command Post, where we raised $14,000 for a very worthy, very non-political cause. We were hoping the left bloggers would link to it as well (only one or two did), but I guess they were too busy trying to tell people how bad America is. Too bad they missed the forest for the trees.

Silence can mean a lot of things, Marc. It does not always mean death.

Sorry, man. You got your hopes up for nothing.

Update: Jeff has gathered all the necessary links.