It’s an incredibly large number, is it not?  Most people know the word trillion, and they know, at least on an intellectual level, what that number is.  However, most people cannot fully grasp the concept behind the number.

Here’s an exercise to help grasp the concept of one trillion.  Take a one dollar bill out of your wallet and feel its weight.  The weight is almost negligible, right?  Now, imagine how much that would weigh if you multiplied it by one trillion.

The result is 2,200 metric tons.  This is the approximate weight of five fully loaded Boeing 747s.

Now, picture this: this year’s federal budget is $3.6 trillion.  Of that, more than $1 trillion is deficit spending.

The previous administration racked up a debt at a previously unmatched rate, for which it was rightly criticized.  Yet, those same individuals who criticized former-President Bush on his deficit spending are mum about the deficit being racked up by the current administration, despite having only being five months into the administration, and despite it being larger than previous deficits by an order of magnitude.

More than $1 trillion in debt is being added to an already staggeringly large debt, in an economy that is on shaky ground because of excessive debt, yet, for some reason, people believe this will help shrug off the economic recession in which we currently find ourselves.  This is a perfect example of critical thinking skills being replaced by misty-eyed dreams of hoping for change.  Only, in this case, the only change for which we can hope is spare change.

After Katrina, Houston offered itself up as a refuge for Katrina evacuees.  We offered homes, money, and other relief supplies.  We were repaid by skyrocketing crime, skyrocketing unemployement, and an entirely new class of people who sought to have everything handed to them by claiming “but…but…I’m from New Orleans!”

The concept is as simple as it is sound:  if someone invites you into their homes, and you proceed to defecate on the carpet, don’t expect the invitation to be extended again.

Sadly, even my most pessimistic prediction of the reaction fell short of the reality.

Before I go into the analysis of my observations, I want to make one thing explicitly clear: I whole-heartedly oppose the idea of government sanctioning of same sex-marriage. However, I also whole-heartedly oppose the government sanctioning of opposite-sex marriage.

I will give all of you a moment or two to allow the red haze of rage to fade and to pull yourselves together.

Feel better? Probably not, but I shall continue anyway.

Despite my objection to government recognition of marriage, I do support the California ruling. My support of the ruling stems from a Constitutional basis rather than from personal bias. Laws regulating marriage are already on the books, but those existing laws discriminate against same-sex couples merely to pander to the prejudices of the majority. These laws are in direct violation of the 14th Amendment of the United States Constitution which guarantees that all citizens are equal under the eyes of the law.

As a strict Constitutionalist, I support the California Supreme Court’s ruling. I would be even more supporting of a ruling that would tell Uncle Sam to get out of marriage all together, but the likelihood of that is practically non-existent. There is revenue to be made in granting blessings on matrimonial unions, and the Government will not willingly part from that revenue.

More disturbing, though, is the reaction from those who oppose the ruling. It would be a gross understatement to call the reaction vitriolic. In fact, the reaction is such that even Fred Phelps would be jealous of the rhetoric.

Such a reaction has caused me to reevaluate my opinion of religionists, which is sad, really. I happen to know a few very decent people of Christian faith, but what I have seen over the last 24 hours combined with the experiences of my youth makes me wonder if they are decent people in spite of their religious beliefs rather than because of them.

Even more, if such all-consuming hatred towards others is as prevalent as what I have been witnessing, then perhaps it is time to reevaluate some decisions I have made in the past – decisions that I would rather not revisit because it would mean going back to living in a state of mind that I spent many years trying to shake off.

I am not going to go too much into the details of that mindset, but in a previous post, I had mentioned that I had survived affiliation with a couple of churches, and I was not speaking metaphorically. I would rather not go back to constantly looking over my shoulders and worrying from which direction the next attack would come.

1. If you are sitting next to me on the bus ride to/from work, do not try to convert me to your religion.  I have already survived affiliation with two churches (quite literally), and I have no intent to push my luck in that regard any further than necessary.
2. If I am at work, and you ask me to perform a task, then get out of my way and let me do it.
3. If you are sitting a few seats away, and I can hear your iPod over mine, you might want to crank down the volume by a few notches.  Your ears will thank you, and so will I.
4. Setting your car’s stereo on “Ghetto Thump” at 3:00 AM is not the way to earn the friendship of your neighbors.
5. Related to #4:  If your car stereo is setting off alarms in other cars, then you might want to reconsider your volume level.
6. Your tricked-out ricer is not impressing anybody; that noise you hear is people laughing at you.

These are just a few things that have annoyed me lately.  Others are most assuredly to come.

Rule #1:  A gun is always considered to be loaded.  The only time a gun is considered unloaded is when it has been completely disassembled.
Rule #2:  Never point a gun at anything you do not intend to shoot.

When I was just a wee little lad, both my father and my grandfather drilled these rules into my head.  When I had enlisted in the military, those same rules were repeated at every single rifle range I had seen.  And these rules exist for a very good reason; guns, like many other tools, can be extremely dangerous if mishandled.  Even though I played “Cops and Robbers” or “Cowboys and Indians” like many other boys, my grandfather always insisted that I treat my toy guns as though they were real.

As my grandfather always said, “Guns are tools, not toys.  The second you fail to respect your gun, you will hurt someone.”  Given that my grandfather was The Font From Which All Wisdom Flowed, I saw no reason to doubt his words, nor did I ever have the desire to try and prove him wrong on this.

Simply put, guns were a fact of life in my household, and neither me, my sister, nor my brother ever believed that guns were something with which we could play.

It seems, however, that basic common sense firearm safety is not being taught, which is why we have kids treating them like fun toys and getting hurt or killed in the process.

Kids are no longer taught how to keep themselves safe, and I mean this in very broad terms, not just with firearms.  Rather, parents (who really do not deserve the title) are pushing for the Government to restrict or ban anything that might scuff their precious little darling’s knees.  As a result, we are seeing a generation that will soon come of age, and not be able to cope with the real world, and unable to understand why they cannot just live at home with mommy and daddy.

I have been watching the Democratic primary with equal measures of amusement and disgust.

Just this past week, Hillary Clinton dug up an old relic from the past that, frankly, should have remained in the past:  Geraldine Ferraro. The 1984 Vice Presidential candidate marched to the tune that Hillary called, like the good little tool that she is, and publicly proclaimed that Barack Obama is only where he is because he is black.

Except this time, Ferraro is right; Obama’s race makes him immune to criticism.  Among Obama’s sheep-like followers, any attempt to criticize Obama on anything is met with his followers screeching “RACIST” to all within earshot.

We live in a society in which “racist” the absolute worst thing to call someone. A public accusation of racism – whether the accusation has been substantiated or not – can end careers. For example, look at the extremely lucrative careers of Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton. Both men have made millions in extortion money by threatening to run to the nearest camera and pronounce someone a racist if their latest target does not pay up.

Ask the three young men from Duke University how things turn out when the race card gets played.

Ask Don Imus what happened when the race card got thrown down on him.

Or how about the sportscaster (who was a close friend of Tiger Woods, no less) who lost her job because she used an unapproved word (in this case “lynch”) in oblique reference to those of the Sacred Skin Color™?

Before you brand me a racist for daring to speak ill of the Messiah, understand that I immediately lose all respect for anyone who plays the race card, regardless of the amount of melanin in their skin. We are all part of the human race, and what resides between our ears define us far more than other ephemeral criteria, such as ethnicity or gender. To date, His Most High Imperial Holiness the Obamessiah, has proven that he is intelligent, charming, charismatic, and an empty suit.

Obama is using his cronies to play the race card for him, much like Hillary (another known racist, by the way) is using Ferraro and her other cronies to say the things Hillary cannot say herself. He is not deserving of my respect, regardless of any redeeming qualities he may or may not have, and I will continue to treat him as I always treat those for whom I have no respect: with utmost contempt.

In fact, go ahead, call me a racist; I have been called a racist before, and the accusation will be no more true this time than it has been at any other time. All it will do is lower my opinion of the accuser.

I recently blogged about an issue at work that has, to be blunt, really made me angry.  I keep telling myself that it is not a big deal, and that I should not get myself worked up over it.  Naturally, as with any previous attempt at self-deception, I keep failing miserably.

The truth is that I am angry about it, and no amount of self-consolation seems to be able to assuage that anger.  In fact, I had to stop and evaluate the cause of the anger.  Only by determining the cause would I be able to properly address the issue and force myself to accept the situation in a more rational manner.  The self-analysis did not take long given the speed at which my brain processes and analyzes information.

The source of the anger goes back more than three decades.

I grew up in a small and heavily Baptist East Texas town where the only two things worse than being black was being Jewish (the Jews killed Christ, after all), and being homosexual.  Sameness was the order of the day; a cookie-cutter community where everyone looked the same, worshipped the same, acted the same, and most importantly thought the same.  Being different in any way was to be ostracized by the community.  This lesson was paramount in the churches and the schools, and was enforced harshly.

Yet, despite the vigor the lesson of sameness was beat into everyone, I was different.  I was able to read and write long before I entered kindergarten.  While the other kids my age were puzzling out the infinite intricacies of the letter “K”, I was reading (and understanding) books that kids more than twice my age could scarcely comprehend.  By the time everyone else in my class had grasped the concept of the letter “B”, I had finished my classwork and had moved on to some other activity.  This resulted in my workbook being taken up, having a big red “X” drawn across the page, and I was sent home with a note to my parents accusing me of cheating.

I was never able to figure out how, exactly, one cheats on learning the alphabet.

That is the earliest memory of my educational experience, but it was far from the last.  At least once a week over the next three years, I would be sent home with a note to my parents accusing me of being a cheater.  The most common phrase I heard from my school was “He is not smart enough to learn the material, so he has to cheat.”

Finally, when the school was at a complete loss with how to deal with an irredeemable cheater, the decision was made to put me in Special Ed classes with the rest of the morons.  To justify moving me to the Special Ed classes, the school had to administer an IQ test.  In their own arrogance, the school administration was not prepared to deal with the results.

At age 7, my IQ was higher than that of any teacher at the school.  But the damage had already been done.

I had already decided to never again do my classwork.  Why should I?  Every time I did my work, I was publicly called a cheater and given no credit for my work.  I figured I would just save myself the aggravation of having to deal with such public abuse; it simply was not worth the trouble.

In my seventh grade year, my family had moved to a different town.  The teachers at my new school immediately recognized that I was far smarter than I ever let on – yet I steadfastly refused to do my schoolwork.  The teachers lectured and ranted about how special I was, and were frustrated at my continual low grades that resulted from not doing homework.

It was in the eighth grade that the situation really boiled to a head.  One of my teachers publicly called me a moron in front of the class, to which I responded, claming that, compared to me, the teacher was an idiot child who had been lobotomized at birth.  I then proceeded to prove the truth of my statement.

That was not the most diplomatic way of dealing with the situation, but it did get quite a few laughs from the rest of the class.

So, here I am, some thirty years later, still being told that I am not smart enough to learn new things by people who have absolutely no clue of what I am truly capable; still being told that I am a moron by those who are, in all probability, my intellectual inferiors.

And that makes me angry.

I have spent many years training myself to not take such things so personally, to not get angry over things of little significance.  However, despite that effort, despite the vast amounts of armor I have built up around my emotions, I still have a sore spot in my personality that flairs up whenever I feel someone is insulting my intelligence – whether or not that person realizes he or she is doing so.

There is a bit more to the situation that rubs salt into the wound, but I have ranted and raved long enough for this post, so I’ll come back to that issue in the very near future.

This entry is about a series of such circumstances.

Recently, my office has decreed that all the employees will be required to get a CCNA.  I had no problems with this, as I had been looking forward to the opportunity, and I was willing to make the effort to get the certification.

At the last minute, upper management decided to test us on our knowledge of Cisco hardware.  This was a small concern for me as I have had no prior experience with Cisco.  Now the rationale is that, since I did not have any experience with Cisco, they are not going to provide me the opportunity to gain any experience with Cisco.

Yet the department idiot, who also has no experience with Cisco, who has demonstrated a near-complete inability to learn, and who is unable to tell the difference between a USB port and an ethernet port, is getting the chance to take the CCNA course that he will inevitably fail, thus wasting thousands of dollars of company money.

Meanwhile, those of us who are not being allowed to take the course are being given an ultimatum.  We are being told to find another department in which to work, or risk being laid off.

Things are not so cut and dried for me.  My manager is trying to squeeze me into the course because of my demonstrated learning capacity, and because I was next in line to be promoted to a supervisory position.   Being the raging cynic I am, though, I am not optimistic regarding my chances that upper management will concede the issue and let me take the CCNA course.

As I write this, I am hanging in Limbo, unsure of what my future with this company holds.

I do not expect the company with which I’m doing business to hold  my hand or to coddle me; I do, however, expect a certain level of service for the money that I pay.  This is true whether I’m talking about the electric company, my phone company, or my cable/internet company.

My expectations are simple:

I expect a reasonably quick resolution to any issues that may arise.

I expect the company to have a knowledgeable staff that can address any complaints I may have.  Related to this, when I call in a complaint, I expect to be able to understand what the employee on the other end of the line is trying to say.

Most importantly, I expect the service for which I am paying to work.  Periodic outages are inevitable.  When the outages become common, I begin to suspect a lack of dedication toward the customer on the part of the company.

Comcast, since its recent takeover of Time Warner’s Houston market, has fallen flat on its face in every single one of these expectations.  While Time Warner may have been barely tolerable in the customer service department, Comcast fails to meet even my most basic expectations.  Every.  Single.  Time.

Since the takeover, my cable and internet bills have gone up while the level of service fell through the basement floor.  I have had daily outages with my internet and cable services, ranging from 5 minutes to more than four hours.  Whenever I would call to complain about the service, I would inevitably get to talk to “John” or “Mike” who could barely speak English, let alone understand it.

True to form, when a company fails to meet my expectations, I take my money elsewhere.  From what I hear from others, I am not the only one who has had it with the very shoddy customer service from Comcast.  Several friends have ditched the company and have moved on to more reliable services.  Personally, I would love to get a look at Comcast’s customer churn rate just to see how many other people have reached the end of their patience with Comcast.

As frustrated as I have been with Comcast’s service, I have never taken a hammer to their office, though I can certainly sympathize with those who have.