The Total Perspective Vortex

The "Total Perspective Vortex" is the creation of Douglas Adams, author of "The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

Here's how it works: you're placed inside of this machine (called the "Total Perspective Vortex"), which forces upon you a complete and total perspective of the entire universe. It is designed as a punishment for the arrogant because they realize in a traumatic way how insignificant they are in relation to the entire universe. Everyone who enters the Total Perspective Vortex goes completely bonkers.

Here's a sample of what one small part of the Total Perspective Vortex might look like:



The rest can be found here: The Scale of the Universe.

Influence and Mind Control

Damn. It's been almost a week since my last post.

Not much has changed in the last week. Still trying to get these brass band auditions together, and hoping we get a good turnout.

Other than that, I started reading Robert Cialdini's classic book "Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion." Fascinating stuff. I've been particularly interested in influence and persuasion lately. I'll give a report later.

In the meantime, check out this clip from Darren Brown. He has a show on the Sci-Fi Channel. This guy is an expert at reading people and using subliminal messages to subconsciously communicate with, control, or fool people. Fascinating. In some cases, I can see what he's doing. In others...just bazaar (like the phantom limb experiments where the person closes their eyes and can actually "feel" and correctly guess objects placed in the phantom hand.)

Can you see what he's doing here?

Building a Brass Band

Putting a brass band together is a HELL of a lot of work! What was I thinking? What did I think I was getting myself into?

It's like a regular part-time job. Getting 30 members together is only a small fraction of the work involved. And fortunately, I have people to help with that.

But still, it's up to me to organize the auditions, promote them online (I have people spreading the word in all the area university music departments), schedule audition times, post the information on the website, etc., etc.

I'm the webmaster, the President, the marketer and promoter, the encourager, the man with the whip when things don't get done (not that I'm heavy-handed, but I like to keep things moving.)

I'm having to find and secure the facilities for rehearsals and performances, and we're still not done. We may have to find a new facility for the Christmas concert. We'll definitely need a new rehearsal facility soon, because we need access to decent percussion equipment, and that's sadly lacking at the Torrance Salvation Army corps.

I need to find a place for percussion auditions and successfully recruit at least three percussionists to the band, which is difficult to do because percussionists whine more than anyone about wanting to get paid. Don't blame them, but still...

Our budget is roughly equivalent to a 10-year-old's piggy bank. I supplement whatever I can, but I don't make a lot of money. This is a bootstrap operation, so we have to be careful about how money gets spent. That means all marketing and promotion has to be done for free, or some other arrangement worked out.

Speaking of marketing and promotion, it's now on my shoulders to fill up a 1,481 seat hall with as many asses as will fit in there...And hopefully there are wallets with cash between those asses and the 1,481 seats. That remains to be seen.

Not that it's hopeless. Just a hell of a lot of work. And it's work that will never pay me a dime. So sometimes I ask myself why the hell am I spending all this time and effort for this?

I can only say for the sheer love of brass bands. I want to see a regular kick-ass brass band here in the L.A. area if I have to be the one to see to it. If it's me that has to be relentlessly recruiting, promoting, marketing, spieling, whatever...then so be it. There WILL be a kick-ass brass band here in the L.A. area, and it WILL be a permanent fixture here.

People will speak of the L.A. Phil, the Long Beach Municipal Band (a professional kick-ass wind ensemble), and the L.A. Metropolitan Brass Band all in the same breath.

I told myself I wouldn't get involved in any "volunteer" work until I made my fortune. But I just can't help myself. I just love music too much, and this particular dream is too dear to just let it fade away.

There are glory days ahead for the L.A. Metro Brass!

The Stan

Look What I Found!

Snagged this off an old post from Matt & Shelley's Blog. Shelley game nights used to be so much fun!
I'll never forget some of those hilarious Balderdash moments. None of us cared about points. All we wanted was to hear the next ridiculous movie plot...or people's suggestions at what certain acronyms stood for...or "interesting" definitions of unusual words.

But Shelley game nights aren't the same without Shell C. and Matt B. And most of the rest of the gang have moved out of town, too. All except me and Michelle and Mateo.

From left to right starting with Shelley in yellow: Shelley, Myev, Michelle & Mateo, Heidi, Your's Truly, and Geoff and Emily (who have been very negligent in updating their blog).

Maybe I should renew the tradition with a new generation of Balderdash nights! That would be a hell of a lot of fun!

Relating to an Invisible God, Part II

I've been thinking about this issue of relating to an invisible God for the last week or so. This whole thought process was spawned a week ago yesterday, as I sat at a round table in a meeting to discuss forming small groups at church.

I'm mildly interested in participating in a small church group of other people around my age, but I was mostly there for the pizza. At one point, we had an "exercise" with the other people at the table, and one of the questions was "How has your relationship with God grown over the years."

Well, I couldn't answer that question. I can't say it's "grown" at all. I'm still confused about how this is supposed to be a "relationship" as I understand the term. I'm honest in my reply. I've got nothing to hide.

As I think about this issue more, it occurs to me that I may have missed something here. (Stay with me as I work this out.)

Because God is infinite, he is not bound by a physical form...he's entirely "not physical." I'm avoiding the use of the word "spiritual" here, because my mind can't wrap itself around what exactly that means. The word "spiritual" has taken on many connotations. Maybe "not physical" is the simplest and best definition of the word "spiritual" and we should just leave it at that.

So because God is not in physical form, then if we were to have a relationship with Him, it would have to be fundamentally different from the kind of relationships we're used to having with physical people.

There would be no audible voice. No physical manifestation. It would be entirely "not physical."

I'm not saying God is not capable of producing an audible voice, or some kind of avatar, but it would certainly be out of the norm, as our experiences tell us--although the Bible does relate certain instances where this happened. But if I were to hear of a particular occurrence, I would be extremely skeptical...

Ockham's razor: a simpler explanation is that someone is making it up, imagining it, is mentally ill, or suffering a hallucination or wishful thinking. All such reports would have to be taken with a grain of salt because they are unprovable and unverifiable.

Therefore, I must immediately reject any claim of "God spoke to me, and...blah, blah, blah," unless the statement contained information that the speaker could not possibly know and that information was verifiable.

So...without an audible voice, or a physical manifestation, how would you know if God were trying to speak to you? (Does God even need to speak to us? Do we necessarily need God to speak to us--other than what's already in the Bible?)

So accepting that a relationship with God would be fundamentally different from anything we've known based on our physical experience, then I imagine it would be a pretty difficult and nebulous thing to define what exactly that relationship would be like.

Our experience is purely physical. God is "not physical." What does "not physical" mean? How can I relate to someone that is "not physical," since I am a physical being and all of my experiences are in the physical world?"

So again, I've circled back to the original problem: how do you relate to a "not physical" God? Certainly God would not be God if he were bound by a physical form. Yet because he is God, there is an immense gap between our experiences and His...between what we know and what He knows...between our senses and His.

In fact, in order to communicate with a "not physical" being, we would need an extra sense. Our five senses are tuned into the physical world. We would need a "sixth sense" that is tuned to a "not physical" world.

Even if God were to attempt to speak to us using the physical world, I would imagine that we would still need the "sixth sense" to recognize that it is, in fact, God trying to speak to us. Otherwise, we may not even recognize it--or we may attribute it to something else.

In any case, I've been reminded that prayer is certainly biblical. Jesus even gave us a blueprint for it in the form of the Lord's prayer. So that means we should pray, even if there is no "return message."

You Gotta Love Cats!

I'm a dog person, but cats do have their uses from time to time...

Jehovah's Witnesses Come A Callin'

I was lying on the couch this morning, about to have my neck cracked by Alba (which feels awesome, by the way), when I heard a knock on the screen door. I thought it was my next door neighbor, Jenny, but when I turned to look toward the door, there was no one there.

Whoever it was, I was sure they didn't know us, because instead of peaking through the screen door like Jenny would have done, or remaining conspicuously in front of it, they stood off to the side so I couldn't see who was there.

Annoyed, I got up to answer the door and two men were standing there, impeccably dressed and groomed like a couple of young congressional interns.

"Does anyone here speak Spanish?" one of them asked.

Yep...they're promoting some political agenda, I thought.

"Well...Alba does--" and I turn around hoping to pawn them off on Alba so I wouldn't have to be the rude one and shoo them away.

But Alba was quick on the uptake: "I'll be in the shower," she said, and hurried to the bathroom.

Unfazed, the man on the left continued: "Well, we're here with the Jehovah's Witnesses...." and he continued into his spiel about cars and engineers and how engineers are the best people to tell you about the cars, and blah, blah, blah.

Dammit, I should have known. Their blue shirts fooled me. They were in disguise. Not the usual arm-length, button-up white shirts and ties. These were blue. I could see now the black Bibles in their left hands, and a few tracts sticking out of one of the outside pockets.

For a moment, I was worried he would pull one out and start talking about a cartoon drawing with lions laying in fields and people building a house in the background, while others were harvesting a crop. "Doesn't that look idealic?" he would say. And "Wouldn't you like to live like this?"

Then I would be forced to say "Hell, no! That looks like too much work to me! Who wants to spend eternity tilling the fields and building log cabins?" But he didn't pull out a tract. He went on talking about how if God was the engineer of us, then wouldn't he be the best person to tell us everything we need to know about ourselves?

Meanwhile, I'm holding the screen door open, and several flies were taking full advantage of the situation and making a bee line for the kitchen counter and the remains of my breakfast salad, and the only thing I can think of is how the hell can I get rid of these guys without being overly rude?

Why am I so damn polite? They interrupted my day, not the other way around!

Well, I couldn't let this go on long, and by this time, the guy was trying to indoctrinate me about how God told us we would live forever right here on this earth. Don't know how that would happen, but the last thing I wanted to do was have a philosophical argument with an indoctrinated Jehovah's Witness.

So I simply said, "Well, I've read the Bible and I know what it says, and I'm not really interested in anything you have to offer."

They were polite. One was the talker, the other the listener. Maybe he was a trainee, and the talker was showing him the ropes. But they left and proceeded to try and convert Jenny next door.

When Alba got out of the shower, she told me the story of Adriana upstairs, who's from Columbia and bi-lingual. When the Jehovah's Witnesses knocked on her door one time, she tried to fake them out:

"Lo siento, pero no hablo Engles! Yo no hablo Engles!"

Well, the Jehovah's Gringo was prepared: "Oh, okay. Soy de Jehovah's Witness y...."

Man, they're prepared for everything these days. Maybe I'll make up some language next time to fool them:

"Blo hopper be dop dang row. Be bop yo bam. He-n-do-bop." And I'll just keep talking in scat, looking confused, until they give up and walk away!

The New FireFox

I hear FireFox is thinking about changing their logo...

So THAT's what that fox was up to!

Damn Cell Phones...

I think cell phones are ruining a whole generation of Americans. Can't anyone concentrate on anything these day? Can't you have conversation, or hold a meeting, or watch a damn movie for Christ's sake without someone feeling compelled to answer their damn phone? It's times like those I wish I were Darth Vader...

Relating to an Invisible God

This will be the very first post I've ever written about my spiritual life. I'm gonna be completely honest here, even though I know I'll probably be getting all kinds of "attempted conversion" comments on here.

The thing is, I'm not really a spiritual person. I guess I don't really understand exactly what it means to be spiritual. I grew up in church. My dad's a pastor now. I've read the bible, and still read it occasionally. But what exactly does it mean to be spiritual, or to have a relationship with God?

I used to pray and read the bible often. I used to feel that God talked to me. But then I realized that God wasn't actually talking to me at all. It was my own imagination and wishful thinking.

Then I figured if I, as a reasonably intelligent person, can be fooled into thinking God talks to me, can't just about anyone be fooled into the same?

It strikes me that prayer is pretty much a one-way conversation. How is that a relationship? All the relationships--the real relationships--I've had have been with real people. People I can see, feel, hear, interact with. That's what having a relationship is all about. Interaction.

I'm not doubting God's existence here. I have no doubt that God exists. My doubts have to do with whether we can actually have a real relationship with him the way modern Christians believe.

How do you have a relationship with an invisible God? Of course, I see God in everything around me. Nature itself is a virtuosic display of the power and creativity of an ultra-powerful God. But it's like seeing a painting by Picasso. Of course I can see his work. I can marvel at it. I can appreciate it. It can be all the proof I need that Picasso did (or does) indeed exist. I can even, perhaps, draw conclusions about some of Picasso's personality traits. But does that mean I actually know Picasso?

God is not only invisible, his voice is silent.

Well..."spiritual" people will talk about the still, small voice and brag about how God speaks to them all the time. But usually people who are so sure God speaks to them are in dire need of a visit to some men in white coats.

It's been my experience that people who talk that way are people who just like to sound spiritual and have probably never heard God's voice any clearer than I have.

I know people who fret about "God's will" for their life. And they pray and fast and read the bible searching for the answer as to whether they should buy the Honda Civic or the Toyota Corolla.

I just don't understand it. As my creator, didn't God give me free will to decide things for myself? Didn't he give me a brain and arms and legs so I can think up a plan and execute it on my own?

I marvel about people who "seek God's will." How the hell can you possibly know if God wants you to move to such and such a place or choose such and such a career if he doesn't have a voice to tell you? People often rely on "signs" or "confirmations." I think people just read too much into coincidences.

Or what about "relying on God?" What does that mean? When I hear people talking about "relying on God," I always think of this old joke...

A man sits on the roof of his house as the flood waters rage around him. A man in a boat shows up and yells "Jump in! I'll get you outta here!"

"No, it's okay!" The man on the roof replies. "God told me he was going to save me!" So he refuses to get in the boat and stays on his roof while the waters continue to rise.

Then another boat comes along, but the man once again refuses saying, "God told me he was going to save me!" The waters continue to rise, and the man is at the very peak of his rooftop, the water lapping at his ankles.

Then a helicopter materializes overhead. The rescue guard is lowering down the basket to snag the man from the roof. But again, the man refuses: "God will save me!"

Finally, the waters cover the entire house, and the man is washed away. He drowns in the raging waters and his last thought is a bitter one: "Why didn't God save me?"

So as the man's spirit appears before God, he questions Him: "Lord, why didn't you save me. I though you told me you'd save me from the flood?"

And God answers: "Well, my child. I sent you two boats and a helicopter, what more did you want?"

This is the image I get in my mind every time someone talks about "relying on God." God gave me a brain. And arms and legs. God wants me to use them, I think. If I were the man on the roof, I'd hope for a boat or helicopter, but I'd be tearing up the damn roof trying to build a raft, just in case none came.

The most successful people in the world are people of action. They don't sit around waiting for God to do something. They take action themselves and make something happen. That's me. I'm a "doer," I think.

I don't pray very often. It's not that I don't believe God hears me. It's just that I can't hear what he's saying to me. How is that fulfilling? How does that make me into a better person? How is that a relationship?

There's one thing that strikes me about the bible: the central theme of love. Jesus said the greatest commandment was to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength." The second one is like it: "Love your neighbor as yourself."

When Jesus asked Peter, "Peter, do you love me?" And Peter said yes, then Jesus responded "Then take care of my sheep." Taking care of God's people is love. Loving God is loving others. Loving others is loving God. Maybe that's what having a relationship with God is all about.

Simply loving those that God loves. But loving in a real, practical way that enriches others' lives. Since a real relationship can only happen with real people...and the bible tells us God lives in those who love him, and that "they will know you're my disciples because of your love for one another," then doesn't it stand to reason that maybe a relationship with God is not really about locking yourself in a room and having a one-way conversation every morning, but about simply having relationships with those who profess to love him?

I'm curious, my friends, what your thoughts are on this.

The Stan

My Weekend Adventure Complete with UFOs...

Where shall I start?

Matt & Shelley, my good friends who decided to skip town a year ago, are back for a 10 day visit. So Alba & I went over to Shelley's Auntie Anne's house--which happens to be where my blog photo was taken somewhere around 12:00 am January 1, 2006.

It was a great party. Heidi was also back, fresh from Spain with her Spanish boyfriend "Lolo," and her nice Mediterranean surfer's tan! (Damn, Heidi!)

God, I've missed Matt B. & Shell C. L.A. is just not the same without them. But at least we can pretend it's just like old times for a few days.

I believe a congratulations are in order for Matt B., a new uncle as of Sunday morning...and the rest of the Bingham clan who've just added one to their number.

Sunday, I was back at the Salvation Army. Again, just like old times. I think I'll start going back more often.

Sunday afternoon, Steve, Abel & I headed over to Ruben's posh house over in Yorba Linda to talk brass band business.

Then, it was off to the top of a parking garage in Santa Monica to watch the Perseus meteor shower with Alba, Steve, & Abel until 4:00 am. A bit of a disappointment after that spectacular Leonid shower back in 2001, I believe it was. Damn, I froze my ass off for that one, but it was worth it!

Last night wasn't too bad, though. We didn't see much because we were only maybe a hundred feet above sea level and still in the L.A. basin. You can only get semi-dark skies directly overhead, so you could only see the brighter ones. I didn't feel like driving the two hours to Mt. Pinos.

But we took a look at the Andromeda Galaxy, the Orion Nebula, and the Pleiades Star Cluster through my trusty 10X50 binoculars. Plus, there were a flew flyovers from some extremely fast-moving and completely silent military aircraft.

At least I assume they were military. They looked sort of like planes. They were kind of a brownish-red, vaguely shaped like an airplane, flying low enough to see them without lights and make out a shape, made no noise whatsoever, and were extremely fast. Kind of weird.

Then, while I was off taking a piss in the commercial landscaping next door, Alba, Steve, & Abel reported seeing a UFO that suddenly changed direction at a 90 degree angle twice. Apparently, it was too high to make out a shape--only a dim light. I think it must of been meteors that happened to coincide in such a way as to appear like it was one object, as unlikely as that would be.

But remember Ockham's razor: The simplest and most likely explanation rules. Either we have some pretty freaky technology that's being tested out in the skies above Southern California, we have otherworldly visitors performing the alien equivalent of "the streak" just to freak us out, or it was some natural phenomenon. Natural phenomenon is the simplest and most likely explanation...if not as exciting.

So as I write this, middle of the afternoon on Monday, I'm pumped up on a bottle of Frappucino from 7-11. Still feel tired, though. But when do you ever end an adventure feeling rested and raring to go? If that were the case, it would disqualify as an "adventure!"

The Stan

Drum Corps International...

Sometimes I think I should allow my blog entries to "age" a day or so before I post them. Yesterday's seems just a little bit pathetic in retrospect.

I certainly had no right to feel anything about hearing of Marci getting married and having a baby. But we have no control our gut reactions. We have limited control over our emotions. It's the choices we make, however, that we have complete control over.

I'm reasonably happy with all the decisions that have led me to where I am today. I've lived my life--for the most part--with a clear conscience. And although I have a few lingering regrets, it's not in my nature to dwell on them or allow myself to become embittered by them.

Life's too short. And life does move on.

I'm happy to report that the "knot in my stomach" is no longer bothering me. Maybe it was because I talked to my friend Sal about this yesterday. Sal is a year older than I am and has probably dated more women than I've ever even met in my entire life!

As the dating expert--certainly no relationship expert--he informs me that I committed one of the cardinal sins of dating: never get back in contact with an ex.

Silly me...I didn't know that rule.

But then I can't even claim Marci as an ex. It's a special case. We merely had an unclassifiable long distance..."thing"...that never really developed into a real relationship. My decision to "end" it was the right one, I'm sure. Which makes yesterday's post and my gut reactions all the more silly in retrospect.

Whatever. Time for me to stop being a girl about this thing.

Anyway, in other news...

I went to the DCI (Drum Corps International) Quarterfinals at the Rose Bowl yesterday. I've never seen a drum & bugle corps perform live so I was looking forward to seeing some of the best corps in the world perform. It was a LONG show and at first I was disappointed. But then I noticed that each corps seemed to outperform the one before it. They kept getting better and better so that by the time the last third of the 8 hour show rolled around, each band was spectacular.

The most memorable were the Vanguard from Santa Clarita, CA (just up the 5 freeway from L.A.), Caroline Crown, and of course, the Blue Devils from Concord, CA (which is up in the bay area.) One band--can't remember which--did a great show based on Stravinsky's Firebird. Another did Shostokovich's Scherzo, from one of his symphonies (can't remember which).

The better bands could really produce the sound and fill up the stadium with just 50-60 brass musicians. Amazing. Of course, actually being in tune really helps you out with that. You don't have to work as hard.

All in all a great show.

Then it was off to Hooters under the presumption that we were there for beer and appetizers.

Fortunes and Old Friends

Okay...time to post again. I've written up a "travel log" of my day trip last Sunday, but I'm not going to post that just yet.

I'm in kind of a strange mood today.

Two weeks ago, I opened a fortune cookie that read "you will reconnect with someone from your past." I never take stock in fast-food fortunes, and I usually forget them shortly afterward. But for some reason this one stuck in my mind.

Perhaps it was a real fortune this time, unlike all those other times where I was promised wealth, and success, and far away travels, and prestige, and great honors, etc. I guess they're allowed to get it right every now and then...

Because as it turns out, in the last two weeks, I've reconnected with several people I haven't seen or heard from in years. Partly because of MySpace. And partly just...who knows....Just out the blue, people calling me or emailing me.

For example, just the other day, my long lost cousin Michelle "You talkin' to me" Baker calls me on my cell phone. I was convinced it was my sister and I was surprised to actually have my sister call me. But I was even more surprised when I realized it was Michelle! It's uncanny how much they sound alike.

Michelle lives in San Antonio, has a dog, works in a bank as a fraud detector, owns her own house, has blond hair now instead of brown, and is still single but seriously dating a guy named Dave.

On MySpace, during my year and a half hiatus, I had been contacted by several "long lost" friends and acquaintances, including a good friend of mine who goes all the way back to our dorky high school days.

Andy is married now, to a woman 13 years his senior (though quite attractive), still into martial arts, and...I don't know much else because he hasn't replied to my reply yet. This is the guy who taught me scuba diving.

Then there is the friend from "back home"--I suppose there are several "back homes" for me, but this one happens to be Springfarm, MO. Can I say "Springfarm?" For some reason I feel I can't call it that if I don't live there any more. Like it somehow becomes less "affectionate," and more "derogatory," even though I used to say that all the time, my tone dripping with derogatoriness. (I love making up words!) Perhaps by moving away, I've given up the right to insult Springfield.

Anyway, I get this email out of the blue from a friend I haven't heard from in years, who happens to be the mother of a girl I used to be crazy about. Almost literally crazy. And after talking to her over the phone I find out that this girl I used to be crazy about is married and about to have a little girl.

I try very hard to take the news nonchalantly. "Really? Good for her." But at the same time, there's this knot in my stomach and I feel...Jealous?...Broken hearted?...Betrayed?...I don't know. I have no idea what I'm feeling, I've just got this knot in my stomach. (Maybe it was just gas?)

Anyway, life moves on.

Then yesterday, I found out about this cool feature on MySpace that will read your Gmail address book to search for friends who have a MySpace page registered. There was a whole slew of names, including Rita--the mother of the girl I was crazy about--who had just emailed me last week.

So I check out her MySpace page, and right there in her top eight is Mrs. Sherman, a.k.a. "The girl I used to be crazy about." Click Mrs. Sherman, check out her photos...knot comes back. Damn.

I thought I got rid of that knot over three frickin' years ago. Anyway, I didn't want to be a cyber stalker, so I figured I should at least send her quick note to congratulate her on her wedding and upcoming child.

So I go home, sit down for dinner with Alba. Bam--phone rings. Mrs. Sherman. Awkward moment.

Not sure what to say...Alba's sitting right there...I'm wondering how she got my number, though I suppose it's no great secret...more awkwardness--I can't even remember what I said, but it was a short conversation.

But that damned knot is right there! It was there all last night. This morning. And as I write this post this very moment.

But...life moves on.

The Stan

My MySpace Space

Well, I've been locked out of my MySpace account for ages. Like a year and a half.

And true to my usual form, I've just lately gotten around to contacting MySpace about getting back in. Here's what happened...

My good friends Matt & Shelley decided to create a "fake" MySpace account in my name and pretend to be me for a few weeks. Wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't made me say some really gay and dumb things, then add a whole bunch of people I knew as friends.

Anyway, so M&S signed me up with a fake email address (thestan@yahoo.com), which I've never owned, but somebody does. I imagine it would have been theoretically possible for this person to assume my identity, but fortunately it never happened.

Then they made up a password which I've long since forgotten. This was like three years ago. And my computer had my login saved in its memory. But...like computers so often do...my computer bit the dust. Choked on it. Perhaps shorted itself out on it.

Whatever happened, that was the end of my MySpace days for about a year and a half.

Until today.

The other day, I contacted MySpace about getting access to my account. But to be honest, I wasn't all that hopeful. No email address. No password. No entre.

But they told me that if I took a photo of myself holding up a sign with my MySpace friend ID, they would let me in.

So I go over to Abel's house to have him take my photo. And it just so happens that Sal and Steve happen to be hanging around, too. (Possibly invited by Abel for the special occasion.) They were quite amused by my plight, and you can see a snapshot of their antics on my MySpace photo album. (Yes, MySpace let me back in):

www.myspace.com/jaarons

I take it you know how to get to the photo section. Everybody and their dog and their dog's chew toy is on MySpace these days.

So I suppose it's about time I get back on, myself. I'm afraid I have a few long-neglected MySpace friends waiting for me...