Saturday, December 23, 2006

Greg Klaers, 1982 - 2006

Last night my old friend, Greg Klaers, died. We were good friends throughout middle school and high school, though we drifted apart after I left for college. Greg was stabbed while working as a bouncer at a bar.

Though it'd been a while since I spoke with Greg, or "Gordo" as we called him in high school, I did run into him briefly, about two years ago. I was at a movie, and after it finished he came bounding up, springing over seats to come chat with me. He was a big guy, but surprisingly nimble and light on his feet. It was a joy to watch him bounce about.

Greg fell on some hard times after high school, but from all indications he turned things around and everything had been going quite well for him over the past couple years.

I met Greg through our church youth group, where I really got to know the true Greg. He always seemed to have this infectious joy about him, a great smile and energy that he couldn't contain. I don't know how Greg's faith life has gone over these past few years, but I'm confident that God will welcome him home. In Matthew 18:2-4 the Bible says:

"He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

I believe that Greg Klaers was the kind of person Christ had in mind when he spoke these words. I have never met anyone who better embodied the beautiful innocence and joy of a child. Knowing Greg was seeing these Scriptures come to life, and everyone who knew him, whether they realized it or not, was closer to God just for the knowing.

Rest in Peace Gordo.

Guide me gently, safely o'er
To Thy kingdom shore, to Thy shore

Friday, December 22, 2006


Here's a happy holiday question:

Imagine that Christmas only comes once every 100 years. You'll be insanely lucky if medical advances ever allow you to see another in your lifetime. That means you've gotta get while the gettin's good. The hitch is, you're allowed only 1 Christmas gift. Money is no issue, so it can be pretty much anything that's ever been bought and sold. Oh, and it has to be a material possession (none of that "world peace" crap you hippie beatniks).

So, if you got only one Christmas gift for your entire life, what would it be?

And on that note, I'm out until after the new year. Happy holidays!

Where's Highway 10?
There's a moose again

Monday, December 18, 2006

Undeliverable: The Server Could Not Find the Following Address

I've been putting together our Christmas cards over the last couple of evenings. We're just sending out a small batch to our relatives. As I was addressing the envelopes I realized that we didn't have the latest address for some of my uncles. So I wrote the name on the envelope, filled out the return address, and put on a stamp, but left the rest of the envelopes blank until I got a chance to get the right contact information from home.

Today I called home and got the addresses. Except, unfortunately, they didn't have all of the addresses either, so one of my cards was left with just the name on the front.

I then decided, since it's the week of Christmas and all, that it might be a great idea to gather up all the finished cards, hike myself over to the post office, and drop them in the mailbox. Only, as I discovered when I got back to my office, I didn't just mail out all the finished cards; I mailed out all the cards.

Which means that today I mailed a card from Matt and Laura, 1515 Jefferson Davis Hwy. Apt. 723, Arlington, VA 22202, and to "Bernie and Tammy."

Last week I had the strangest dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed

Tuesday, December 12, 2006


You may have noticed a few changes here on Philosofickle. I recently updated my blog to the new "Blogger Beta" provided through Google. Or something. I didn't pay much attention to it before hand, I just decided it would be a wise idea to update my blog, since the new format promised improvements.

And I do think the blog has been improved. For one, the search function is supposed to be superior. For another, the archives are more easily searchable. And we can add nifty little labels for the post. But maybe most important, my spell check now recognizes the word "blog". Finally!

Anyways, look around, check it out, see how you like it.

You should also know that I've officially started my second blog: A Centrist Voice. This will be a purely political blog, designed to define and promote the Centrist agenda that I have, at times, started to address on this blog. A Centrist Voice will be a place for dialogue and discussion among folks of all political stripes. I'm not going to say much more about it here, since, well, you can just go there and read about Centrism if you're so inclined. Suffice it to say, you should feel free to check it out once a week or so, since that's about how often I'm going to try to update. If you've ever found yourself interested in some of the political discussions on this blog, or strongly agreeing/disagreeing with what I've written here, this promises to be an interesting read. I'll probably still post political things on here from time to time, but probably less frequently.

And feel free to recommend A Centrist Voice to friends and family. Hopefully we can get some good discussions going there and really advance the political discourse.

Oh, and huge freakin' points for the the lyrics.

Somebody owes me something,
It might as well be you

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

...And Cornhole Us a Drunk

I kid you not, there is a game called cornhole. And it's not even a sicko adult game. I read all about it in the newspaper.

What newspaper you ask? Let me answer your question with a series of questions:

When you think journalistic integrity, what name jumps to mind? When you need in-depth coverage about the issues in your life, who do turn to? When you're looking for hard-hitting, take-no-prisoners interviews of the people who really matter, where do you go? When you want passionate, caring, poetic human interest stories, what's the paper for you? That's right, it's the Wabasso Standard.

For those who aren't in the know, Wabasso is a town of about 700 in Southwest Minnesota. Situated about half-way between Redwood Falls and Marshall, Wabasso is the "Heart of Redwood County", and home to The Standard, the epitome of small-town writing. Yeah, it's schlock, but stacked up to the other papers in Southwest Minnesota The Standard is an absolute gem, and has even won regional awards despite sentences such as, "The groups often raise between $5000 - $10,000 when hosting a American Cornhole charity events." Those ain't typos folks. Well, they ain't my typos. And these are the sentences that make it past the proof-reader. Can you even imagine how bad it must have looked before it was edited?

Apparently the bar isn't set too high for regional newspaper awards, since The Standard is winning them without using spell-check. Of course, it is the Wabasso Standard telling us that they've won these awards, and frankly, I don't trust their ability to report those kind of facts accurately.

So, back to Cornhole. Basically, it's just a game of beanbag toss, but instead of beans the bags are filled with corn. And you try to toss the bags into a hole. Hence the name. According to The Standard the game is rapidly growing in popularity. After writing exactly zero jokes - or anything remotely resembling a joke - in the previous two paragraphs, The Standard tells us "To put all jesting aside, the competitors [at the "cornhole final"] have been taking this very serious."

The game is so popular that it is "demanded by football stars for fundraisers like the Carson Palmer charity event and Jake Plummer." Yeah, just "Jake Plummer." All sorts of incomplete sentences in this article. But they got the ending right at least:

"If you are interested in joining in on the fun or buying one of these sets for the holidays (or any day), check out their website at"

If you would leave it'd be a crying shame
In every breath and every word I hear your name