I’ve also written quite a number of humor pieces for it that are not yet published on the site but will be in the coming weeks.

Check it out at www.deadcaterpillar.com (read the About Me page for an explanation of the name). And be sure to Facebook Like / email forward posts that you find enjoyable. I don’t write things just for myself you know.

Rather than reiterate the talking points that BP execs should be held responsible and that the oil spill is indeed a great catastrophe, I thought I would take a somewhat different approach to commenting on the disaster. After all, no one is arguing that BP should not shoulder the blame or make amends. Conservative and liberal leaders alike push those points in every context and sometimes push only those points. I feel the need to not state the obvious but rather the inobvious.

Below are a few considerations that ought to be taken into account when considering the circumstances surrounding the disaster:

• The government should allow shallow-water drilling so companies won’t need to take huge risks with deep-water drilling. Popular sentiment will of course have the opposite (more restrictions on oil) but popular sentiment is often wrong, especially in times of crisis. When a crisis occurs, every individual who was at first oblivious to the world, suddenly feels the need to say something, which has the effect of dampening the opinions of those who were paying attention all along.
• Half of British Petroleum is owned by Americans and many of its employees are Americans. When you vilify an entire company for bad decisions made by higher-ups, the vast majority of people you end up hurting are regular, working class people. I am certain more livelihoods have been destroyed in the reaction to the disaster than by the disaster itself. This is why some Americans must get over their fear of corporate America. A corporation is nothing but a conglomeration of regular people, some of whom get rich in the process of running a corporation.
• Although the government isn’t to blame, the government should have fulfilled its self-imposed duty as the chief authority and regulator of offshore drilling. For starters, that means not giving the rig a safety award before it explodes.
• Conservatives who profess to believe that government is not the answer to all our problems should refrain from hypocritical criticisms of the Obama administration for not doing enough. I realize that conservative leaders must hold liberal leaders to the same standard for political reasons; but when conservatives are incumbent, the standard is always called into question and it should not be any different for liberals. Conservatives should continue to criticize the administration for politicizing the event but should not join in on the politicization.
• President Obama is by no means responsible for the oil spill or what has popularly been deemed an improper response. I could care less if the President takes the time to stare at the ruined New Orleans coast line or offer his Harvard-Law-School-Education advice to the engineers working to fix the problem. The conversations concerning Obama’s response would never be held if people understood the proper role of the executive branch of government in the United States.  Those who fuel such conversations are falling prey to the politicization of the event.
• There are legitimate risks that must be taken if people want affordable energy to heat their homes and power their cars. A risk implies the possibility of negative consequences. Earth is not a paradise. Artificial disasters are just as prone to happening as natural ones.I don’t deny that human errors were made. But errors are by definition a strictly human thing.  Let’s stop acting so surprised every time something bad happens.
• The comparison by many conservatives of the oil spill aftermath to Katrina or Heiti falls short. A ruined beach season for vacationers, the deaths of a few hundred birds and whatever amount of marine life that was destroyed pales in comparison to what happens in some countries every day. As I stated above, the reaction to the disaster is more damaging to the country financially than the disaster itself. And, although photographs of oil-covered pelicans are dramatic and cause a great deal of outrage, there is no parallel in the animal kingdom to human suffering. If you don’t like this point, get off my blog.

Conclusion: If people want cheap fuel they should shut the hell up and stop blaming either party. There were unintentional errors made, no doubt, but let’s not let the very much intentional attempts of political hacks take advantage of the crisis. People may not have direct control over the happenings in the gulf but they do have the power to put things in perspective and can use that perspective to guide their voices and influence.

“To get the right word in the right place is a rare achievement. To condense the diffused light of a page of thought into the luminous flash of a single sentence, is worthy to rank as a prize composition just by itself…Anybody can have ideas–the difficulty is to express them without squandering a quire of paper on an idea that ought to be reduced to one glittering paragraph.”

- Mark Twain

“Like apples of gold in settings of silver Is a word spoken in right circumstances.”

Proverbs 25:11

I’ve been doing a lot of archive perusing lately and have consequently lost a great deal of respect for my writing ability. Looking back, a lot of my earlier posts were filled with utter nonsense.

All of the painful analysis prodded me to write a satire titled “An Essay on Bad Writing.” The essay is some of the best satire I have ever written and took no more than an hour to write. Comparatively, other things I have written took many days and failed to produce anything of real value to me (other than the experience of course).

I have a mother’s love for “An Essay on Bad Writing.” It will most likely be published in the opinion section of the Liberty Champion, come Fall. A student newspaper is nothing spectacular but I feel this one needs a proper, print induction to the world. Sorry Internet, you’ll just have to wait. I do have other plans for you.

As I’ve discussed with my brother and a fellow blogger friend, I plan to one day start a weekly humor blog. The blog will most likely be an adaptation of my personal blog and will have a “serious” or “straight-face” section where I can continue to spew raw ideology without restrictions of style. I want the web design to be completely my own (I’m a closet web designer, in case you haven’t noticed) and I will probably start designing the website in the Fall. Despite it being summer and all, I currently have too many projects to pick up another one.

I’m currently: writing for Technorati, redesigning Liberty’s newspaper website, designing an e-commerce website for a startup card business, designing a church website, doing website consulting, writing for and managing my own websites and am about to start working at the roller rink again. On top of all that, I would really like to not be fat and friendless by the end of the summer so I’ve made a vow to step out of my room for at least a half-hour every day.

I know what your thinking. If you’re so busy Chris, then why take the time to write this crap?

Here is my answer to you, imaginary yet overly inquisitive reader:

Writing is a delicacy that I will never refuse myself, no matter how pressed I am for time. Whenever I have the compulsion to write, I must begin typing. Otherwise the words will burn inside me or be lost forever. So yes, if forced to bring one item to a deserted island, I would bring paper. I’d write on it with my own blood if I had to. Writing is the absolute best part of my day.

Brian said something to me in passive conversation that I feel was worth repeating: I am someone who believes the Internet is his playground. The Internet is my playground, and so much more. The Internet is also my mentor and my closest friend. Boy, we’ve come a long way since “dear diary,” haven’t we? Thanks to blogs, the word “diary” has been replaced with “world” in that idiom.

“Dear world,” let me tell you something –

I wonder if I will one day reach the age where I have said everything I need to say. Then I will become like one of those quiet old men that you see so often.

.. Until then, bear with my sometimes volatile way of expressing myself and my waywardness of words. My past writings are meant to serve as a stepping stone to future progress. I’m hoping to find, sometime in the future, those apples of gold in settings of silver.

What have I learned from my waywardness of words?

• I have learned that writing is something that can never be forced. Nothing illustrates that better than the writing produced during my 800-words-a-day phase. The words can sometimes forfeit themselves but they will never be forcibly taken. They seem to only want to march out on their own terms. That’s probably why it was 5 am when I started writing this.
• I have also learned that writing is not about writing. Writing is really about everything else. A writer should be transparent and his prose should not be recognizable; the meaning is all that matters.
• Adjectives are the enemy. Rarely do they serve their purposes. I had to learn that the hard way.

“When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don’t mean utterly, but kill most of them – then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice.”

– Mark Twain

• Through two years of news writing for the Champion, I’ve learned about the indispensability of simple words. Take for example the word “said.” There is no better way to say that someone said something, other than to say that the person “said” it. John didn’t counter, answer, reply, respond, reciprocate, retort or return. John simply said it. God is good. And Michael Moore is stupid. There is no need to complicate things. Simple prose makes good prose.
• I have learned the great risk involved with using big words. But I have also learned how to accurately calculate the risks and settle on word choices accordingly. Note the courageous use of the word “indispensability” above. Big words are like bludgeoning weapons. They are powerful but they can do a lot of damage in the wrong direction if not used carefully.

I like humor writing because it demands strategy. Each sentence must either setup, advance or provide the finishing punchline of a joke. Each clause must be carefully compacted. Each word choice must be fine-tuned to convey unequivocal meaning. And the reader must be sharp. The joke is soiled if any of those conditions are not met. Maybe that’s why no one can recall the name of any great humor writers.

It’s high time I had a go at it … just not today.

Apparently it’s also quite common for Turks to bring stun grenades on humanitarian missions:

It is clear from this video that the Turkish “humanitarians” were provoking the Israeli soldiers. They wanted something to happen. I’m amazed that the commandos didn’t open fire after a grenade was lobbed at them.

Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t pretend to not be pro-Israel. Is it likely that Israel has committed atrocities in war as well as her enemies? Absolutely. No war is without atrocities. But that doesn’t change the fact that countries go to war for justified and unjustified causes. In the case of the conflict in the Middle-East, the people of Israel are justified in defending themselves. That is not true however of many Muslim countries that are ideologically motivated to destroy Jews, no matter where they live.

Then why is it that I only point out the atrocities committed by Israel’s enemies?

Aside from the fact that I don’t know of any great atrocities committed by the IDF, the media already handles the job — quite well I might add — of criticizing Israel and advocating for her enemies.

“IT’S LIKE RAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.”

(if you are viewing this post in your email inbox, you might want to navigate to my site so you can view the video)

Here’s what was so ironic about “The Ghost Writer:” In the real world, Film Director Roman Polanski had to flee the United States for admitting to raping a 13-year-old girl but, in his fictional movie, one of the main characters could not leave the United States because he faced war crime charges in other countries.

The irony is just brushing at first but when you consider the overall plot and deeper meanings behind the film, it hits you like a brick in the face.

Pierce Brosnan plays “Adam Lang,” prime minister of the UK elected from the Labour Party. Quite explicitly and with little room for interpretation, Lang embodies Tony Blair — the UK’s last prime minister who is often accused in liberal circles of being a cohort in the Bush-Cheney take-over-the-world-starting-with-Afghanistan affair.

Lang get’s in trouble with the ICC (International Criminal Court) when evidence surfaces that he illegally ordered the seizure and torture of four Muslim men. As it turns out, Lang was unknowingly being controlled by the  CIA through his wife. I”m not going to spoil the movie any more than I already have by explaining the role of the ghost writer, but I will point out one obvious irony: Polanski vilifies the very same government, people and legal system responsible for his vilification. All of this is exactly why Polanski was forced to film the movie in Germany rather than Martha’s Vineyard (where the story actually takes place).

My brother didn’t see eye to eye with me. The movie was a work of fiction, nothing should be taken literally he said. But I beg to differ. Every plot has a deeper meaning, a hidden premise that is either absorbed subconsciously or floated to the top — the conscious level — with careful evaluation. In the case of “The Ghost Writer,” the hidden premise was this: America is the bad guy.

The implication wouldn’t be so damaging if it weren’t so pervasive in Hollywood. These days, the villains of every other action flick (e.g.: the bourne identity series) are none other than the insidious United States Central Intelligence Agency. What is so sinister about our intelligence agency that causes film makers to pass off making movies about Hamas or Hezbollah? Why not make a movie demonizing corrupt political establishments which strap bombs to little children and call for the eradication of 7 million people rather than repeatedly vilifying a mostly white collar American bureaucracy? I mean, why not? Maybe … someday I will understand. Que Britany Spears:

I’d love to know what was going on in the military guy’s head just before he politely said “Uhm, we don’t anticipate that …”

If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.

And on top of that, racial diversity had a role in it: the dentist was Asian, the nurse was a black woman and the patient was white. We each represented a portion of post-racial Western society. We were like a symbol of freedom, hope, interracial togetherness – or something like that. I wanted to say something but with all the cotton balls in my mouth, all I could say in response to anything was “ah huh.”

Aside from not being able to communicate properly, a very pressing issue was on my mind. Where does one rest his eyes when two hunched-over individuals are operating in his facial area?

Do I focus on the half-blinding light overhead? Do I stare deep into Choi’s (the dentist’s) pitch-black almond eyes? Do I look at my teeth through the reflection off Choi’s glasses (he’s Chinese and educated so he has glasses of course). Perhaps I should stare to the left, at the face mask of the black nurse which was bobbing up and down on account of the fact that she was chewing gum?

At any rate the internal conflict was making me look nervous. My eyes were going all over the place. My fingers were twitching. I could not settle on an awkward-less place to rest my eyes. Because my brain was so busy trying to solve the eye problem, I had difficulty obeying the dentist’s simple commands: “open wider” and “close more.”

Then I had an epiphany.

Why not close my eyes? The revelation was brought about by a splash of cold water to the face by the water drill which forced me to close my eyes. Afterwards, I kept them close.

“You must be tired,” Choi said about a minute after I closed my eyes.

“ah huh,” I responded.

After all, what else can anyone say but “ah huh” at the dentist?

When the dentist did something painful I usually clenched my fists or wiggled my toes vigorously (don’t worry, they couldn’t see this child-like reaction because I was wearing shoes). But if the dentist saw, out of the corner of his eye, me clench my fists on the armrests he would ask if I was okay. In which case, mouth still full of objects, I would respond with a simple yet pointed “ah huh.” You see, when the mouth is full of objects the patient has severe tongue movement restriction. They teach dentists that in dentist school but I believe they present it as something like a job perk.

But even if I were physically capable of enunciating something beyond the length of one syllable, what could I possibly say?

“Yes Dr. Choi, that hurts.”

Would Choi then put down his tools and call it a day? Somehow I think not. After the roller coaster takes off there’s nothing much “stop the ride Dad!” can do. I learned that valuable lesson early on in life at the seemingly innocuous Runaway Mine Train ride at Six Flags.

I used to ask for the laughing gas, primarily because it feels like breathing in heaven. “Sweet air,” some people call it. I just don’t see why God couldn’t have mixed a little bit of that stuff into the atmosphere – then maybe people wouldn’t be so uptight all the time.

I didn’t get the nitrous-oxide this time. I got something much better. Because of the fact that all Asian people are short, my head and upper-torso were lowered far lower than usual to accommodate Choi’s shortness. It was almost like being on my bud Steve’s inversion table at about a 145 degree angle. The effect was a constant rush of blood to the head which kept me in a very oxygen-high, dazed state. By the way, getting on the inversion table is my favorite thing to do at Steve’s house.

In my 45-degree-angled chair I was drifting off into a trance. Through many years of boring sermons and school convocations, I have gained the unique ability to bring about miniature self-induced comas. The rush of oxygen to the head only sped up the process I had initiated. While in this state I thought about all sorts of things. I thought about how I would talk to the receptionist with my entire mouth being numb. I thought about how lunch would taste with all the fluoride and chemicals lingering in my mouth. I thought about bow hunting for coyotes with my brother in the Casperkill woods at night with night vision goggles. Yes, we have actually considered doing that. The only things we still need before we can embark on that adventure are bows and night vision goggles.

While at the dentist, I’ve also learned how to fake being a masochist. In my head, I scream things like “that feels wonderful” and “bring it on” when Choi does something violent and painful (e.g.: slowly sticking a 10-inch needle deeper and deeper into my gum and not stopping even after 10-Mississippi). Unfortunately, no matter what I do to mask the pain, my tongue always gives me away. My tongue seems to be in the habit of doing a little dance every time a large amount of pain is inflicted via my mouth. I know this because I witness it through the reflection in Choi’s eye glasses. I swear, that little thing has a life of its own.

Well, that’s pretty much all the funny observations I made while at the dentist today. I wish I had some spectacular way of tying all of this up neatly in a conclusive paragraph but I think I’ll go to bed now..

… So I guess I’ll see you later.

Viewers are barraged with a torrent of emotionally-charged clips that depict homeowners being forced from their homes by the token “bank people.” No amount of facts supplement the clips but instead, voice-overs of Michael Moore’s signature quiet narratives enlighten the credulous on the issues.

“Capitalism is evil,” Moore says.

What also seems to be left out of Moore’s documentary is a definition of Capitalism or a viable alternative – as if there was a viable alternative to a manifestation of freedom and liberty in the economy. If Capitalism is defined as a flawless utopian way of life that is systematically capable of erasing all of man’s woes, Moore, if not a little deceptively, effectively identified the problem. The truth however is that corruption and poverty are not symptoms of a failed economic system but instead symptoms of the fallen human race. No amount of muckraking will remedy that condition.

I must point out what is painfully evident on the blank stare of the toothless beggar I encountered on the subway last week: men are not equal in gifts or intellect but are afforded equality under the law. To quote the late economist and philosopher Ludwig Von Mises:

“The suffering from frustrated ambition is peculiar to people living in a society of equality under the law. It is not caused by equality under the law, but by the fact that in a society of equality under the law the inequality of men with regard to intellectual abilities, will power and application becomes visible.”

Is the system evil or are the people within it evil? I contend for the later which separates me from the liberal classification. The system itself can be neither evil nor good, happy nor sad. Capitalism, like Socialism, is no more evil than a chair or twig. What makes Capitalism ideal is the simple truth that men’s interests must be pitted against each other in order for some form of economic stability to exist. Men must be allowed to compete under an equitable system of government and economics. Anyone with a shallow understanding of history will come to the same conclusion. That is the same conclusion that the founders of the United States of America came to when they set up a three-branched system of government subject to checks and balances.

Moore’s satirical antics and deadpan allusions to 50s America, the Cold War and Mao Tse Tung are meant to be taken tongue-in-cheek. What he really does is make a mockery of history. Socialism is not a joke and neither are its consequences.

Twisted facts like the chronology of the events surrounding the passage of the Stimulus Bill expose the documentary to be nothing more than a propaganda piece for the Obama administration. At one point Moore interviews Democrat senators and laymen on the unconstitutionality of the Stimulus Package and the manner in which it was jammed down our throats. The clips related to the Stimulus Package (which Moore left unnamed and instead alluded to as a beefy 700+ billion bailout for Wall Street) are surreptitiously placed immediately before the clips of Obama’s inauguration. Obama’s come to power is posed as a grassroots reaction to the corruption in big bank and corporate America. No mention of the fact that it was Barack Obama who paraded around the country trying to convince Americans they needed the Stimulus Package. No mention of the fact that a Democrat majority passed the Stimulus package in the Senate and only three Republicans voted for it.

The documentary has at least done one thing for me: I have grown in my intense hatred for all that is deceitful, all that is base and all that is wrong in this world. You can imagine that I have a great deal of hatred for myself at times. As a Christian I am disciplined to withhold my objections because this world will soon meet its end. But as a human being who will live on this earth for a certain time, I cannot help but fidget in my chair as I witness the repetition of history.

In short Moore’s new movie, bred in covetousness, is an insult to Western freedom and democracy and, more appropriately, an insult to the true poor and needy people of this world. My guess is that there are many more people in Africa who have a genuine concern about finding a loaf of bread to feed on for the week than there are homeowners maligned by big bank America. Take your precious causes elsewhere Michael Moore.

Never in my lifetime have I ever felt so betrayed, so taken advantage of and so used as I felt last night after watching the Lost season finale. When all was said and done, the “narrative debts” (as the NYT put it) that Lost has accrued over the years had not been re-payed in the least.

Forget the fact that the writers did not even attempt to bring me closure, they failed to provide an interesting series of events leading to the end. The “Purgatory” explanation, which is what many critics are calling it, is something that I considered openly while discussing theories of the over-arching plot with my brother during seasons long past. At one point it was my number one theory and Brian can attest to that.

What bugs me is that I should not have been able to guess an over-arching plot. I wanted to be proven wrong. I wanted to taste something new, something original. I suspected a Purgatory explanation only because it felt like the most professional route to end an un-endable plot. Purgatory could explain all of the loose ends because anything can happen in such a place. Things like the end-of-the-world button can be labeled as a self-help exercise to help the deceased “let go.” The appearance of Jack’s father was just to help Jack “let go.” The Dharma Initiative simply provided a circumstance for some of the characters to get in touch with their letting-go side.

What a cop-out. What a sham. I demand to be compensated for the 10 hours of commercials I watched over the course of 3 years. The Lost writers did exactly what I feared most: they backed themselves into a corner by creating too many intriguing elements which promised future answers. The unanswered questions became so numerous that fully answering any pair of them had the potential to unravel the entire story as a self-contradiction. No critic will accept a logically incoherent storyline so the writers opted to extend the realm of possibilities by introducing the Purgatory element which does not need to abide by physical or logical laws. The move was perfect from a commercial perspective. After all, the writers had no need to sustain the intrigue after the final episode.

In retrospect, all of the drama was for naught. The “magical” properties of the island were nothing but an illusion created either by an external force or the minds of the characters themselves. Of course the word “Purgatory” might not suite some interpretations. Aligning more with Danial Faraday’s quantum physics explorations, the alternate reality can be explained as a parallel universe which might fit in better with all the science types out there.

At any rate, I was thoroughly disappointed with the outcome which will not translate into a legacy but only a temporary profit for ABC executives. As usual I am only outlining the negative elements of the Lost story. Through the extenuating circumstances provided by a surreal plot setting, some of the characters were truly works of art in and of themselves. However, the Lost writers left their wonderful characters stranded and incomplete when they chose to slop on an insufficient ending.

The meaning of Lost is as ambiguous as the meaning of life itself. Those who are looking for an answer will be sorely disappointed. Good riddance Lost. I will be looking forward to having back my 9 p.m. time slot every Tuesday.

I caught this beautiful catfish out of the Hudson soon before summer ended.

I hiked over to the Vanderbilt Mansion while on break during my last day of work for the summer and took this picture. I have no idea how it came out this way. I think it qualifies as modern art.

Me and my roomate Prassanna, atop the Liberty University Snowflex complex (think skiing but with no snow). We had just moved into our apartment and decided to go up there past midnight on a whim. Absolutely gorgeous view of night-time Lynchburg.

Another view from the top of Snowflex. We probably weren't supposed to be up there. We definitely weren't supposed to try out the tubing slope with a tube we found .

I found this message on the back of a dented Chevrolet to be pithy and to the point. Notice, above it, the "LU Parent" sticker.

Sometimes you have to improvise when you're on a tight budget.

Prassanna gets a little excited when he sees the Jonas Brothers.

Standing outside Scaremare (an evangelical version of the haunted house sponsored by LU) on a chilly October night.

Late October -- My new cat, Penny, who we thought was a female until we took him to the vet for boosters..

Me and Prassanna walking the streets of downtown Lynchburg far past midnight. Something I have developed an appetite for.

More improvisation.

On winter break overlooking the hudson from our summer fishing spot.

On break -- in Florida with Brian, trekking across the beach at Lover's Key State Park to get back to the condo. No fish. No warm weather. At least the sun showed its face that day.

A great shot of the beach at Lover's Key State Park.

Another magnificent shot of the ocean taken from Lover's key. I was reading The Count of Monte Cristo during that vacation and couldn't stop thinking about what it must have been like to be a French sailor in the 19th century.

I found the message on this food cart outside of PetsMart to be unconditionally inspiring.

Near the top of the peaks of otter. It's hard to get a good shot when every view is equally amazing.

Bowl? Check. Cereal? Check. Brown Sugar? Check. Milk? Milk?! Milk!!! I figured I had to get something of worth from this effort so I snapped a picture. I know. Weird.

The fresco painted on the interior of the Capitol Dome. I was there for a class field trip. Did you know George Washington's is like 10 times life size?

A student government banquet that I was forced to attend so that I could cover it for the Liberty Champion (student paper). A bunch of people I don't know congratulating each other on this years achievements = very boring. Lucky for me, of all the tables, I randomly chose to site at the table of the comic book club! And the cheescake was heavenly (not being sarcastic there).

Just getting out of History class at North Campus, beginning the mile-long trek to my car. I have noticed what seems to be a large increase in the number of mopeds and motorcycles on campus. This pic definitely proves it.

Just before I went bridge jumping last week, at the foot of the James river -- an unusually large gathering of butterflies.

The bridge on the James that was jumped. The water was surprisingly warm. Tons of Liberty students were there that Saturday.

This morning at the Commencement address for 2010 graduating seniors at Liberty University's Williams Stadium. Glenn Beck, one of my biggest heroes, was nothing short of inspiring.

And that’s my year in a nutshell.