Why are people so suspicious of our government and their military programs? Area 51 - what's the big deal? I'm keeping my eye on those other 50 areas whose existence they actually acknowledge.

Yes, our government is probably doing some shady things. Dirty, secret, unwholsome things. Covert, devious, immoral things. Things you wouldn't talk to your children about. Things your grandparents wouldn't think were possible.

But wouldn't you rather want us doing that than the other guys? I mean, if they're really working on top-secret stuff that no one can find out about, what could they ever hope to do with it?

I see three options:

1) Turn it against the American people. This might be the prospect that most scares everyone. Like one day these killer nano-swarms are gonna swoop out of the Nevada desert and enslave our population. Unlikely, yet plausible with our government's tradition of dominatrix-style power tripping.

2) Defense against unforseen threat. What if we get attacked by aliens one day, or a horde of supermutated flying mountain lions with bullet-proof fur? Certainly it would be nice to have some crazy x-factor weapons we could pull out to save the world.

3) Defense in the case of World War III. Scary prospect, this one, but probably the most likely scenario in which our government would ever whip out its 51-inch flying schlong with anti-matter lasers and invisibility. If America does get involved in a major war at some point, it's likely to involve most of the civilized world. Barring mutual nuclear devastation, it would sure be nice to have enough surprise arsenal that we came out on the side of humanity.

Think about it.

Awww shit.

Sunshine... morning... how long have I been asleep?

The Steelers are in the Super Bowl?!

Uggh, somebody fucked up.

I guess it was me.

You know, I write a nice piece about how overrated a franchise the Pittsburgh Steelers are, then they go and prove me wrong by embarrassing the Browns and just about everyone else on their way to an AFC title. Just who do they think they are?

In truth, that wasn't the only reason my blog enthusiasm dried up. Just the one I'm gonna use.

So yeah, whoop-di-fuckin-do, go Steelers. I don't know how they do it, but that defense is unreal and Ben Roethlisburger gets it done. There's an interesting trend in the NFL where the AFC has become vastly better than the NFC. If you remember, things used to be opposite, with the NFC winning like 13 straight Super Bowls before John Elway and the Broncos broke the spell in '98. Since then, it's been all AFC, with the Patriots being their poster child and all that.

So what happened?

Pittsburgh was the #6 seed in their conference this year, while Seattle was #1 in theirs. Guess who's the favorite? The ball-bustin, blitz-bringin, straight out of the AFC WildCard Pittsburgh Steelers. People just have so much new respect for AFC football, while the NFC has become like a junior league only used for its interesting storylines.

So what point am I trying to make in all this? Well I have an interesting theory, that attemps (poorly) to categorize success in the modern NFL. !!Here comes a controversial statement!!

I think it's a racial thing. White vs. Black. You know, that dichotomy everyone likes to pretend doesn't exist. Specifically on the quarterback level.

Look at it like this; since Denver got the AFC off its Super Schnide in 1998, the marquee teams of each league have gone in different directions quarterbackially.

The AFC has been run by dapper young stars like Peyton Manning, Tom Brady, Ben Roethlisburger, and Carson Palmer. Each one white as the room he was born in... but man can they win football games!

Meanwhile, in the crypts of the NFC, teams are relying on darker field hands like Culpeppa, D-Nabbs, and Vick the Quick to get them to the promised land.

It hasn't worked.

In fact, before yesterday's pasty Hawks-Panthers final, a black quarterback had lost the last five NFC championship games. Three by McNabb (plus one Super Bowl), one by Culpepper, and one by Michael Vick.

I'm not trying to offend anybody here, or knock on black athletes in any way. It's just that if there is one last stigma against the black footballer, it's that he can't quarterback a Super Bowl winner. The Falcons, Eagles, and Vikings of the last few years have had some supremely talented teams, yet they've been sent home early every time only to watch Tom Fuckin Brady comb his hair with the MVP award.

In conclusion: football season is almost over and I'm sad.

So I got to thinking, "How could the NFC dominate for so many years, then suck?" This was the most interesting conclusion I could come to.

Enough of this now though, how about that Troy Polamalu? Sickness. I always claim to be so proud and happy to be myself, and live my own life. But if I could play football like he does... I'd trade just about anything for it.

What can I rant about now? How about Clay.

You know my cat Clay is so cute. Seriously, she's like a biological mistake or something. I get embarrassed just looking at her wondering if God isn't playing some kind of cruel joke with that bundle of adorability.

Then I got to thinking, what is this phenomenon of cuteness? What about Clay's black and white fur makes me double over with delight. Why do her feet become profoundly more fun to look at when she curls or flexes her toes? Why can't I walk past her in the hallway without dropping everything to serenade her with gibberish compliments and scratch her little neck until she runs around and starts purring?

It's more than just the emotional bond I share with this animal, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Why do we (human beings) find cats (or other various creatures in no way related to human beings) so damn pleasing to look at? Does this phenomenon occur between other species of animals? What sort of evolutionary process would bring about such a symbiotic relationship?

Maybe it's because they are small, or because we are projecting human thoughts and emotions onto their behaviors. Does anyone else not find it strange that baby ducks can bring a grown man to tears? I'd love some opinions on this (assuming anyone cares to read my blog).

This blog is over.

The people want more Eric!

And who can blame them.

This blog has taken a sad, lonely hiatus.

Many long stories describing why.... Don't care to go into them.... But I did just rid my computer of some nasty viruses, so maybe I'll go crazy and write a blog or two.

After all, I'm supposed to be a writer, right?

Right?

Stay tuned...

So the Browns play the steelers this Saturday. Man is it going to be fun. Early Christmas present for all the sane-minded people out there that understand the beauty of Cleveland sports.

I really must say I hate the steelers. I hate them so incredibly rediculously profoundly much.

I mean, my hatred for Michigan football is one thing. But with them it's not as much a hatred as much as I love beating the crap out of them the last game of every season. With the steelers it's different. I feel like the steelers stand opposite to everything that the Browns stand for. And since the Browns stand for goodness and righteousness, the steelers basically represent pure evil.

Seriously how can anyone possibly like the steelers? Even Bengals fans don't piss me off as much as the steel-city faithful do. They think they're big shit cause they won a few titles in the 70's and have owned the abysmal AFC central the last 10 or so years. But what's really so great about that?

The Browns won some titles in the 60's which mean just as much today as all that steel-curtain greatness blah blah blah. The Bill Cower steelers have to be regarded as one of the most disappointing eras for a football team. How many years have they waltzed into the playoffs only to tank it some way or another? I respect him as a coach but hes obviously never going to take them over the top. Let's finally recognize this guy for what he is: a boistrous bridesmaid.

You think he'd make that ugly snarly-face all the time if he had a Super Bowl ring on his finger? I know I wouldn't.

The steelers don't know what they're getting into this weekend when they head into Browns town. Granted, we've been their whipping-boy for the last few years, but they're finally running into a team that believes it will win. In today's NFL, that's all you really need.

I'm not going to go into all the details, but this one feels too too right to me. I'm a man of my hunches, and they rarely lead me astray. Everything has aligned for this game to end in a Cleveland W. It will kill the steelers playoff hopes, and mean absolutely nothing to the Browns besides sweet, sweet satisfaction. (Long overdue.)

X's and O's, dollars and cents, none of that will mean anything come Saturday. In a game of these proportions, we have to look to the football Gods for our final solution; and all signs point to the Browns.

I said in a blog before the season that the Browns had an outside shot at 7 wins this year. They'll have to win their last two games to do it, and that's exactly why they will.

Put away your terrible towels. We already know you're terrible.

Woohoo! Blog #100.

Pretty amazing that I got this far and people actually read some of it. Over the years (or months - who's counting?) I've blogged about a wide variety of interesting topics, while always taking two minutes (or twenty) to wax poetic about myself.

According to the justblogme.com homepage, there have been 3,341 total blog entries since the inception of the website. That means my 100 make up roughly 3% of the blog content on here. Not too shabby.

Perhaps more impressive, is that my blog has received 135 out of the 1,179 total comments posted. That's over eleven percent! Hard to believe that one out of every nine comments has been inspired by my scholarly writing, but the proof is in the pudding. Granted, most of the commentors have been friends/family of mine - but everyone has friends and family, and I've managed to grab the attention of a few strangers along the way. (By the way, you all rock.)

Lately though, the 'ol Monster has been slowing down its pace. It's not that I stopped enjoying blogging, I've just been trying to move myself towards some productive, career-oriented things. I gotta pay the bills somehow, and this blog certainly isn't doing it. Besides, this shit takes time. I'm not really a slow writer, just a thorough scrutinizer of my work. The average blog can take me anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, and I've thrown down a few epics that took the better part of an evening.

I love every entry though, and I've learned a great deal about writing, about myself, and about the value of a thesaurus. This is where I've always felt the most comfortable; where I'm on top of my game and dissecting the world. I know there's a life in writing for me somewhere out there, but regardless of where I end up, I'll always have this forum of freedom.

It helps me find my voice.

And it's a powerful voice.

This much I know.

Sometimes I try biting off more than I can chew, but if I take things one issue at a time, I'll eventually write my way around the world. And I think the world needs that. The world needs a lot.

Seriously.

I was just leafing through the new Time Magazine with "The Best Pictures of the Year". Possibly the most depressing pictorial ever. Nothing but death, disaster, devastation, and depression. Every other picture had a corpse in it. Hurricanes, earthquakes, riots, wounded soldiers, even the dead pope took a pose. The only image that appeared even remotely positive (unless you count the newly-franchised Afghani woman, which is nice) was some crazy, large-scale art creation by Christo.

Are the artists all we have left? Must we inject beauty into an otherwise desloate planet? I'm not gonna get that pessimistic, but advanced as we are, there is something dramatically backwards about the current state of humankind.

I'll try my best to get to the bottom of it. What else do I have to do?

Just Blog Me baby.... Let's hope for a hundred more.

I was just guessing, at numbers and figures

Pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science, science and progress

Do not speak as loud as my heart

So I haven't blogged in a while. Here's what's been up:

I've been reading. This book, and that book, and those books, and your book. I've had a lot of free time, and am proud to say I've been translating much of it into sustained reading. Reading a book that interests you is, I feel, never a poor way to spend your time. In a semi-related matter, I think I have an idea for my first novel. I'll fill you in on the details later, but I think I've finally found the spark - that tiny unique little idea that I can build a story around.

My Brother (Ross) got accepted to Ohio State. No surprises here, he of the 4.141592863 GPA is gonna be taking his act to Buckeye Country. Ross (My brother) will be the third in a battallion of Hoffman children to leave their mark on this school. I'm a bit jealous of him, as there has been so much construction done here over the last 3-5 years, that he's gonna have a revamped and powerful campus at his fingertips. Three-to-one he graduates before I do.

Tough times for Cleveland-related athletic endeavours. The Cavs caught a few chinks in their armor, the Browns lost (again) while losing their top draft pick (again), and the Indians can't seem to find anyone out there that wants to win a championship. I mean, they're obviously going to win the World Series this season, and I suspect that is the sales pitch Mark Shapiro has been using: "If you come play with us, we have to offer you $600,000 less per season, but you can probably get at least that much for your championship ring if you put it on Ebay!" In the case of the Browns, there isn't much I can say other than they are cursed. Plain and simple, there are just too many outside forces intent on keeping them down. I'm not speculating or fantasizing; it's a cold hard fact. Poor Browns.

I'm officially in the best shape of my life. That's right, hands down I have a more muscularly-developed body than I have ever had. And it's all from a few months of rock climbing. I've improved my balance, flexibility, and core strength, while adding reams of new muscle to my once-flabby areas. I totally have a six-pack now, (it's true - you can ask my sister - plus I look at it at least 6 times a day in the mirror so I'm convinced it's really there) but I haven't done a single sit-up. My body is physically capable of more than it's ever been capable of, and I'm basically a little chest/shoulder development away from being the sexiest man alive.

I'm going to Philidelphia this weekend. Leaving this afternoon and returning sometime on Sunday. There are three readily-identifiable perks to taking this trip:

1) It's a road trip, requiring a decent amount of drive-time, that will put me more than a stone's-throw from Columbus or Cleveland. Time away = Good.

2) I'll get to see Nick again, an old friend, and catch up on what life is like on his home turf.

3) I get to see Philly for the first time. I plan on running up those stairs like Rocky, and laughing at some Eagles fans. Plus, I think it should be swell around Christmas time, and I've always been a big advocate of snow.

City of Brotherly Love, here I come! I have good feelings about this weekend for everyone - not just myself. So keep your eyes on the prize, your focus on the most-est, and never forget to love thy brother.

That is all.

Christmas season is here! And just in time for the citizens of Who-ville.

As far as I'm concerned, the celebration of his birthday on December 25th is the only thing ol' Jesus was ever good for. Whether you're truly rejoicing the son of God, or just want some time to spend relaxing during the throes of winter, the holiday season hits the spot like a warm mug of egg nog.

With appropriate apologies to people celebrating Channuka (sp.), Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, or some non-Christian equivalent of the event, December 25th just does something special to the people of this country. There's a whole season built around it, and the day beforehand is a holiday in itself. Colored lights hang in every American city, television networks change their very tone, and Americans hit the stores like - well - only Americans can.

I'm actually excited to see the brawls and riots braking out at shopping centers around the nation. Sure, we're overindulging ourselves in consumerism, spending billions of dollars on things we don't need, and further alienating those cultures who just can't relate to unbridald capitalist joy. But you know what America? We've earned it.

Let's face it, 2005 was kind of a shitty year. The war is pressing on with perpetual ugliness, we got hit with more hurricanes than any time in recorded history, and our government has turned just about every issue into a giant clusterfuck. We've spent more time debating than we have celebrating. The red, white, and blue needs a break.

Do you really think increased gas prices are going to keep people away from the holiday deals? Hell no! Do you think we're gonna call the big tree on Capitol Hill a 'Holiday Tree' again this year? Hell no! Americans want their Christmas back.

They want to buy something for everyone they care about, and exchange it all in one tradition-laden morning (or evening if you're weird like that) because you know what? That makes for a damn good time.

Give us a few more weeks, and we'll go through a satisfying recharge that gets us ready for all the trials/tribulations that 2006 has planned. Until then, I suggest you roll up some holiday cheer, and smoke that shit down to your fingertips. Because there's no better time for Americans to remind themselves why life here is so great.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

So I saw a really unfortunate commercial the other day.

It was one of those anti-marijuana ads - you know the kind: Young people smoke pot and get themselves into common stoner situations like missing a brother's birthday, stealing money from grandma, unwittingly getting pregnant or shooting a friend in the face. If I had a dime for every time I got into one of these pickles while high... I could probably afford a whole dimebag.

Seriously though, slowing down the sarcasm train and stepping onto the reality-mobile; these ads are dispicable for more than their weak interpretation of 'tact'. For one, every situation they derive is circumstantial. They have nothing to do with any tangible, marijuana-specific drug effects. What they represent are fabricated lapses in judgement, that could be performed by someone under the influence of any mind-altering substance.

Are there any documented cases of neglectful babysitters, whose potsmoking forays led to an unsupervised child falling into a swimming pool? Perhaps. But it sounds more to me like a shady situation contrived by an ignorant writer. Who does it really make a moral comment on: The smokers, or the people who think they would do such things?

Being a recreational greenie for the last few years, I have a difficult time understanding the animosity some people hold towards marijuana. I suspect that on a subconscious level, these people are just envious that potsmokers get such peaceful satisfaction out of their drug.

Look at them, all relaxed and happy. Who do they think they are!?

The truth is all too evident though; marijuana just isn't that dangerous. It's light-years safer than chronic use of heroin, coke, ecstacy, or the like, and is no more disruptive to your body than alcohol or caffine. If discovered today, I doubt that THC would reach such a profound level of illegality, and become target of a nationwide 'war'. It was outlawed in a time when people just didn't know enough about it, and they felt they had the moral obligation to forbid the masses from its use.

It is a moral issue isnt it? When the government says, "You can't pick that plant from the ground, burn it, and inhale the fumes," it's tough to get a constitutionally-defined explanation.

Since it's too frustrating to debate, you can just rest assured that when I sieze power that's one of the first rules I'll change. I won't even do much to explain myself, because you can't argue with organized ignorance. But I'll point to a few simple facts:

1) Marijuana has never killed anyone. The lethal dose of THC is literally several ounces. I heard a story of a guy (this could be pure urban legend) who used a vaporizer and a mask to breathe inordinate ammounts of marijuana smoke for as long as he could to see what happened. I think he ultimately lost control of his bodily functions and passed out - an unpleasat scenario - yet far from the disastrous outcomes that would result from similar experiments with many other substances or chemicals.

2) The government is devoting lots of money towards an unattainable outcome. There will always be enough discreet places to grow marijuana, and there will always be enough people that enjoy it to keep the drug circulating. Think about the bottom line.

3) Knowledge is power. If you educate people to the real consequences of marijuana smoking - beyond the fact that it makes you run over little girls on their bikes - they should be able to use it in a safe manner that lets them experience the drugs' true overall effect.

And what exactly is that? A hightening of experience. Of sensation. Sight, sound, taste, smell... even thought and emotion. All of it is temporarily kicked up a notch. That's just what this plant does. Who knows why? Rock on!

It can be a good time. Though still best used in moderation. I'm well aware of the long-term effects of repeated use of the drug. Which is why I'd actually like to take a break from smoking - see if I can go a month or two - starting sometime in December.

But I guess all I want anyone to take away from my blog is this: Potsmokers are people too. They live competent lives, and represent many of the great minds we know and love. I'd rather be labled Stoner than a lot of other things. If you want to criticize the craft, I think you owe it to the rest of us to put a little research and reality into your argument.

So that commercial I saw? Basically this kid is sitting in a hospital waiting room, because he smoked weed with a few friends and they convinced him to stick his entire fist in his mouth.

I'll just let that speak for itself.

What the heck? It's the day of Thanks Giving so why don't I give a little thanks...

Wilson aptly pointed out my admonission of belief in the last blog entry. It's true - when I say I 'believe' a particular thing, I'm really just pointing out the way I think it ought to be. But isn't that what everyone does? We live in a world of imprecise gray areas, and any belief that isn't rooted in concrete universal fact is just a declaration of preference.

In truth, the only thing I've ever really believed in was my own sweet self. It's always been there, it's made up of all my experience, and it's the source of every novel contribution I've ever added to this world. I don't know what there really is out there besides me, but I'm free to speculate based on the ideals and 'beliefs' that are totally unique to Eric.

When I talk about God, I'm really just hypothesizing a divine power that I think makes the most sense. That's fair enough. If he created me, and was responsible for the worldview I currently hold, how could he ever fault me for painting the picture I saw as most logical? While it's possible that there's no God out there at all, that reduces our universe and existence to a random twist of chance; one with no room for deeper philosophical debate.

I'm a thinker and a writer. I can't have that.

So for now, I enjoy speculating but remain a dilligent agnostic. While I like to think that the great creator is working in my corner, the only proof I've ever found of God's existence is the fact that our universe exists at all. I've never seen God, heard his voice, or experienced his presence in a vision. What I have had is a life filled with some unfathomable coincidences - several of which I've recounted in blogs of yore - and an inherent reassurance that I could make everything work out by just being myself.

Does that mean I'm God?

Perhaps.

But if so, I've done a damn good job of tricking myself out of that knowledge, and I have a few personal bones to pick about the stupider elements of this society I find myself living in.

Enough of this though, I'd better switch gears before alienating my fan base like the Beatles did with that whole "Bigger than Jesus" thing. It's a holiday, and I'm giving it up to the Big Guy - thanking him for the simple things that have made my life worth living.

Way to go God... you steam a good ham.

10 things I'm thankful for:

1 - Music. I'll never know why, but nothing allows me to transcend my environment like a good song. Not even drugs. (Though the two go well together.)

2 - Sports. Winning is great, losing teaches lessons, and the competition in-between reminds us we're alive.

3 - Good food. Turkey day is a primo example of the profundity of the human pallet, but fine eats are something we enjoy every day of the year.

4 - Books. The greatest teacher of all is experience. But nobody can experience everything, so we read about it through the words of others. We can even read about fabricated experiences in make-believe worlds, and everywhere we go there's something to learn.

5 - The sky. You all know how I feel about the stars. But what I may enjoy even more are cloudy overcast days. Something about them just gets my motor running, I don't know...

6 - Family. I'm the product of a damn good home life, which I never want to take for granted. Most parents wouldn't let a kid get away with the things I have, but then again, most parents aren't blessed with a kid as cool as me.

7 - Water. It's the foundation for life, and it's all I really drink now.

8 - The kindness of strangers. Sure, lots of people are jerks. But nothing would ever happen in this world without diverse people working together.

9 - Beauty. It's subjective and it's debated, but everyone still experiences it. In this way, beauty knows no bounds. It's everywhere.

10 - A warm bed. We spend a third of our lives asleep; it's the kind of thing you just have to do in comfort.

Speaking of sleep, the tryptophan is kicking in now... I'll see you at Christmas.

So I'll be spending the next few days at home in Cleve-town (awesome). I'm reminded once again that my cats are probably the coolest animals on this planet.

You really have to hand it to animals, they know how to live. Everyone assumes that we humans are so spectacularly advanced, and that we've evolved to a biological pinnacle leaving the rest of Earth's creatures behind. But what if it was really the other way around? What if all the rest of the animals actually sit above us on some metaphysical plane?

My theroy is that God didn't endow us to an elevated status, I think he's taken something away from human beings to make our existence that much more challenging.

Sure we have all the evolutionary gifts: large brains, opposable thumbs, bipedal posture... but why is it that we get so devastated by natural disasters? Whenever earthquakes or tsunamis strike, there are very few animal casualties. It's obvious they have some innate ability to sense oncoming doom. Supposedly we evolved straight out of animalia, so why'd we lose this sixth sense?

I'll bet it's something in the smell. We really don't do much useful with our sense of smell anymore. Can you navigate your way through a forest in the dark? Or recognize when a foe has encroached upon your territory? I'll bet you don't even know what your own mother smells like.

The point is, with all of our naturally-selected wit and wisdom, we seem to have sacrificed a few staple abilities along the way. Where did they go? Seems like they could have aided in our overall survival, yet God up and snatched them away when he gave us this splendid gift of 'consciousness'.

Besides the obvious differences, animals approach their own lives in a dramatically non-human way. You'll never see a giraffe contemplating the meaning of life, or a shark wondering why it was created. Animals know exactly who they are and what they're here for. They know the purpose of their life on Earth and they do exactly that. They do it proudly, and unapologetically, never pausing to speculate on matters that aren't instinctual.

I believe animals must have some sort of direct line to God. They can feel his wavelength, and have his constant reassurance as they go about their daily lives. I'd go as far as to say they know the meaning of life. They know exactly what all of this was created for, and they see exactly how they fit into it. They live to fulfill that ultimate purpose, because they can see the beauty and truth involved. To do anything else just wouldn't make sense.

Meanwhile, us homo-spaiens aren't blessed with any of that. We can't tell if we're here, there, coming or going... and it drives us absolutely batty. Each morning we get up wondering whether our day will have a purpose. Each night we go to bed with a fear that we may not be doing things 'right'. We've created so many different faiths, philosophies, and religions in an attempt to explain it all, but where has any of it gotten us?

Nowhere.

We know nothing more about the universe than we did 3,000 years ago. Sure we've made some great discoveries in science, but those are really just observations of what happens in the world around us. We still don't know where we came from, why we're here, or how we're going to end.

Take a look outside. Do it right now! You won't see kangaroos building houses, or turtles driving cars. What are they busy doing instead? Eating, mating, and trying to survive until tomorrow. We should look to animals for inspiration when we really feel desperate with our world.

I'm sure us humans have some grand role in the realization of God's master plan. But since we still have no real clue what it is, I can't help but feel I'm being laughed at by every barking dog I see.

jhgeiroawhiohio;hvkldfajklg

...yeah, but we beat Michigan.

tfgehklwafe jfkelwajfkleajfkelfjea. fjekawlfjklea   jfeklajfklejafiiiiuuurrr

...yeah, but we beat Michigan.

rueiwauioteuwaiotuewioatuew?

...on their own turf, with 111,000 screaming Worlverine fans watching in horror.

qquiquibzvvzffsssdsddsd

Look, I really don't care because we beat Michigan.

qqqoweihio ijhfhdkajsnhk fndjkabnvlppele!

Fucking right we beat them last year too. We've won 4 of the last 5. Think how they must hate us so.

hfgdjsaijewioioocnnbfbbsaa iwejhow uweioru wuir ueu wuopwoqppllkkfdskajcc...

Yeah they act like the rivalry isn't so important. Well if they're cool with losing the last game every season, then we're cool with winning it.

qqwrhekjla bvbjda wvbwv a.

Damn stright we wanted it more. That's the power of OSU Nation. What did you expect?

hwhqhiotheioahcnm hfdas bfada hfewohw nfdnabfda vbev nnnnnnnnn!

Ha! Whatever dude, we beat Michigan.

tfejkwajiveneja baewjfguwa hjweiuwe?

I told you man, we beat Michigan. That's that.

wqhietiawehan c alfeuiaghfuielhauifeau fhewuaofhieowa fioewa

Maybe if that had something to do with Ohio State beating Michigan...

kjgiokd rkl awji foewajio  jeaiofjewioa

Totally irrelevant...

huHEuhufdqwhu! ufhweuIFHuihfuhuefih! uvchdbbbfnnnflkfppeoe!

Alright I'm done with this. The world bore witness to our triumph. Now it's ours to mold. Hope you have a long, shitty Wolverine winter...

I know you will!            O   -   H   -   I   -   O

There are none bigger...

Two forces of nature collide....

Destinies forged on a football field....

And AJ Hawk will be there!

Thursday night I witnessed the spectacle of students jumping into Mirror Lake. I didn't jump in the water this year (it was 18 degrees outside, the coldest night all year - how ironic) but the event will never cease to amaze me. While chaotic, it's an amazing display of dedication and school spirit. Difficult to describe the scene, even with my lyrical mastery, it reminded me why I'll always love this university and its fearless student body.

In a tragic development, I have to work during the OSU/UM game this year, but I suspect business will be slow and we can listen to it on the radio. Afterwards, Dan and I are throwing a minor party - our first in this apartment - in what will hopefully be celebration of a victory.

Don't sleep through today folks. You might miss the Earth shifting.

Let's go Bucks. Fuck their faces up!

Sometimes when I burp, it feels so good to get out that I don't understand how I comfortably existed before burping. I gotta give the human body props though, it's one heck of a self-regulating machine. Flatulence - unpleasantly comical as it is - keeps our innards stable.

Question: What's the real difference between a fart and a burp? They seem to perform a similar function, and produce a similar by-product, yet the mouth and the anus are waaaaaaaay opposite each other on the human orifice spectrum. Just a curious musing.

Now, somebody remind me what I'm doing here. Oh yeah, I'm blogging! Man, this shit takes me back. I'd like to apologize to folks who ain't heard from me in a while. It's kinda funny, I think 95% of my friends have given up on me as a social participant. And who can blame them? I've stopped calling people or returning most phone calls, I don't go to classes anymore, I haven't signed onto my aim screename for nearly a week. What's gotten into Eric?

I'll tell you what's gotten into Eric.

Cancer.

HaHAHAHAhaHA... actually, it's more like Climbing.

Yeah I've been climbing a lot. Between my job and my recreation, it's something I've really devoted a lot of time to. And who can blame me? It's a tremendously satisfying sport - perfect for this period in my life. Besides getting into wicked shape, I've been learning the tricks of the trade and really appreciating the outdoors.

Cody and I went back to the New River Gorge last weekend, and it's now my fourth favorite place on Earth behind Zurich, Thailand, and Jacobs Field. This time we didn't go with an organized trip, but with a few fellow climbers we met through the ARC. They were well-equipped with ropes, biners, and quick-draws, and I climbed some spectacular new sandstone faces.

Rock climbing really is one of the most hardcore sports there is. It may not appear to have the inherent danger of a skydive or bungi jump, but those really just require lots of preparation and one leap of faith. Climbing is the exact opposite. You fight against gravity rather than settle into it, and scaling a wall requires prolonged periods of focus and exertion.

There's a great deal of epuipment involved with rock climbing; ropes, harnesses, belay devices, etc. But none of it is really there to help you. It's constructed such that you can climb an entire face solely under your own power. It's crazy to look at this 85-foot wall I just climbed without falling and think, "I could have just walked up to that thing, and made my way to the top with nothing but my own hands and feet." Of course I don't have the cojones to do something like that yet, but maybe someday I will. Cody and I have been looking at this building in the business school that's very climbable. Maybe in the spring, we'll see...

I think the one thing I love most is the personalized essence of climbing. It's just you and that wall. You're not competing with anyone, just trying to get yourself to the top without a fall. Meanwhile, the only consequence of poor climbing is pain. You put your physical well-being on the line with every move you make. A fall isn't going to hurt the rock, it's going to hurt you. That's hardcore.

Although the scariest moment from this past weekend didn't involve anyone falling off the wall....

It occured when I was climbing my second route, a flake of rock about 40 feet tall that wasn't too difficult save the overhanging roof at the top. When I got to it, I was careful to avoid a cluster of rock to my left with big chalk X's on it. That's the sign for loose rock, a courtesy among climbers as there is nothing more distressing than one of your hand/footholds breaking away. However as I went to swing my left leg up onto the ledge, my knee bumped a jutting piece of rock. To my horror, I watched a slab maybe 3 feet long and a few inches thick slide out from the wall and begin tumbling downwards.

Now I'm terrible at estimating units of measure, but I'm gonna say this thing weiged at least 40 pounds - not your average falling stone - and there were about 30 people milling around below in various groups working on various faces. My first reaction was slight disbelief. Was I hallucinating? Did this really just happen? That rock was huge! I genuinely thought I was about to kill someone. After the initial shock passed, I (thankfully) did the only logical thing and screamed.

"ROCK! ROCK! ROCK!"

I got out three Rock's before it hit the earth with a crash, and an eerie silence filled the gorge. Fortunately my belayer had been watching the entire time, and was able to move out of the way. The rock landed more or less where he had been standing, and I shudder to think what could have happened if he took a blow. There was also a girl climbing the route next to me maybe 15 feet below when the rock fell, she had been spared as well and immense relief set in when I realized everyone was OK.

Once I stopped shaking, and pulled the last move onto that roof, I was lowered down to learn the extent of damage below. The was one major casualty, an old-school looking aluminum canteen that Cody had purchased a few days before. The thing was smashed, pulverized, decimated, mangled, any adjective you can think of to describe twisted remains. Having been full of water at the time, it effectively soaked a few standing close by, but everyone was more or less relieved at the averted catastrophe, and the canteen made an interesting souvenier from a day in Bubba's Canyon.

So there you have it, my first crazy falling rock story. It really is uncanny the way it happened. Several people had climbed that route before me with little consequence, and I really didn't bump the rock all that hard, it had been precariously close to falling for some time. Also the fact that Cody's canteen was squashed flat is another curiousity. Cody was halfway up another route, some 50 feet away from the scene, yet he of all people had left his canteen in that exact spot. Of everyone climbing in that area that day, I knocked the biggest rock onto my one friend's canteen.

Spooky, huh? It gets better.

The next day I found a chunk of rock in my backpack that I'm 94% certain came from this falling stone. At the time of the incident, my backpack was sitting on a ledge below where the rock crashed and exploded. It was in the perfect position to catch a piece of debris or two. Also, I found the rock in a smaller pocket of my bag - the one I keep my climbing shoes in. Since I was on the wall at the time, it's quite likely that I took my shoes out and didn't zip it closed. The piece of rock is the same texture and feel of the walls we were climbing, and I certainly never put any stones into my own backpack. I'm gonna chalk it up as a message from God - though what it means I'll never know - but we're keeping both the canteen and the rock-chip as unique mementos of our weekend.

There you have it. One scary moment at The New. Aside from said rockfalls, the entire weekend really kicked ass. The weather on Saturday was pristinely sunny. I was climbing shirtless. In November!

It looks like winter is rolling in though, hope y'all are ready. It snowed here last night for the first time, and I must say I'm mighty excited to have this season come around. Oh yes, it's gonna be cold. Unfathomably cold, perhaps. But I don't want to hear people bitching about it. This is the planet we live on. This is the world you were built for. It offers a diverse range of experiences, some of which happen to involve cold weather. Either appreciate it, or step aside so somebody else can.

As for me, I'm growing all my hair out and embracing our wintery passage. My only rule: Never go outdoors without a hoodie. You heard it here first.

I saw Jarhead on Tuesday night. Hell of a movie, I recommend it to anyone with a pulse. I think the film did a tremendous job of showing both the struggle, and the pride of modern American soldiers. The desert is a woeful place to fight a war, but nobody loves what they do quite like American servicemen. Who can blame them? They are the enforcers of the greatest power on Earth. What a sense of vitality that must fill you with. Anyway it's a solid movie to be checked out. Also, I think I heard a Tom Waits song in there at one point. I'm not certain, but maybe Ross could clear things up.

Now let me tell you something about Terrell Owens...

He's a bloody fool.

Seriously, look what an ugly pit of despair his career has become. Regardless of what he might do in the league after this, the moniker of TO will carry permanent tarnish. It's a shame too, because he's one of the most amazing wide receivers we'll ever see.

He's got everything you need to be a stellar wideout: speed, size, strength, hands... Have you ever seen a picture of Terrell Owens without a shirt on? He's freakishly chisled. Aside from all the physical gifts, he also has tremendous pride, and an unabashed confidence in his skills. He's a special breed of player that can talk trash all week, then burn you on the first play from scrimmage. He consistently walks the walk, and celbrates in a unique manner all his own.

You have to respect a guy that truly believes he can walk on water. While professional sports doesn't usually endorse a 'me-first' attitude, there's a lot of chutzpa required to be an NFL wideout, and TO has always done what he thought was required to keep him on top.

So where did he go wrong? Ugh... where do I start? My personal aversions to the Terrell Owens machine arose when he demanded his first trade. Not only was he refusing to play if Baltimore didn't deal him, he was refusing to play if Baltimore didn't deal him specifially to Philadelphia. That's really not the way things work. Players have much more control now over where they sign, and free agency has opened up a competitive market based on skill and team needs. But when someone demands that a team do this or that, it destroys all competitive integridy of the system. He basically wanted concessions to be made speficially for him, and being such a high-caliber player, he ultimately got just that.

Afterwards, everything should have been peachy between TO and the Eagles. They even went to the Super Bowl his first season in Philly. Again, mad respect for the man as he toughed it out that Sunday on an ankle he broke some 6 weeks before. But all was not well, the offseason came around, and Terrell decided he didn't like his contract. Just didn't like it. He figured he deserved more money than anyone else - and he might even have been right - but in the great system of the National Football League; things just don't work that way.

Terrell signed a fair contract, negotiated by an agent whom he hired, with a team that went out of its way to make him a member. He was very vocal about his displeasure though, and made it a prevelant issue during training camp. Clearly TO was starting to push his luck.  The 'me-first' attitude was becoming a little too much. He forgot the cardinal rule of being a professional athlete: The fans love a character, but that character must never disrespect the game he plays. TO had already disrespected opponents, and the system. Now he was bringing down his own organization, something the football gods will not tolerate for very long.

So now Terrell Owens can't play pro football this year. It's as simple and sweet as that. I haven't followed all the conforontations and off-color remarks of the past few weeks, but I know he must have really pushed the limits of professionalism. Guys do some stupid things in the leauge and don't get suspended for an entire season. He could have tested positive for a banned substance and only missed four games. This was some sad, dire shit. And he brought every bit of it upon himself.

As much respect as I have for TO the wideout, I have absolutely none for TO the person. He compromised the one thing that should have been all-important to him: catching footballs on Sundays. And for what? To badmouth a few teammates? To speak his mind about the way things should be? Dont even talk to me about conspiracy theories, or quotes coming out-of-context. The Philadelphia Eagles have suspended their best player for the entire season. You don't fake your way to that with a few misquotes.

For a man with so much talent who draws so much attention to himself, TO certainly isn't a good role model. Not that he has any obligation to be one, but why make yourself such a visible figure if you're not trying to reflect sound values? I guess it says something about his character. Enjoy your vacation Terrell, you and I will be doing the same damn thing next Sunday.

That's the name of the largest known star in existence. At least according to the book I'm reading, which was published in 1997. The radius of ol' Cephei is 11 astronomical units, with one astronomical unit being the distance from Earth to the sun (about 93 million miles). Therefore the diameter of this star is 22 times the distance from the Earth to our sun. If placed at the center of our solar system, Mu Cephei would encompass everything out to Saturn.

How rediculous is that?

Next time you find yourself outdoors on a clear night, take a look to the Eastern sky to find Mars. It's not that difficult, Mars is pretty prevelent right now, but it's still just a point of light in the sky. Then you take this star - this mass of boiling plasma - and think that it would stretch from here to there, many times over. I don't think I can totally wrap my mind around it. But I know it's cool.

Sigh... Oh God, what is this crazy world you've created for us? That's all I want to know. That's all anyone wants to know.

I've had another revalation, this time about the afterlife. I've decided that there is none.

Oh booooo.... no afterlife? This is all we get? You can't be serious. There must be more to it! What kind of shady carnival game are we supposed to be playing?!

Well chill out, all is not lost. I mean, the whole afterlife idea is kinda suspect to begin with. Why go through this intense period of several decades on Earth, only to pass on to some eternal netherworld where all of it becomes irrelevant? Obviously this world is important, and we are living it out, why does everyone need to work for something more?

I find it hard to conceptualize this afterlife as a place (aka Heaven/Hell) where we just continue existing. If we really just chill out there, we'd have to experience something that kept us sufficiently entertained and purposeful. Everything we experienced would proceed to change us somehow. And given an infinite timescale, we would presumably become infinitely different people. How do you sustain blissful harmony in such a place?

Of course I'm speculating on things of a Godly nature, and we must never forget that God can do whatever the fuck he pleases. There could well be some alternate plane of existence that I'm not capable of understanding or defining. If that is the case, we'll find out when we get there - and I can only hope they carry all the Indians games.

Otherwise, I think we ought to live this life to it's fullest, and everyone should be themselves at all costs.

So what does happen when we die? Could it really be the ultimate flame-out? Like going to sleep and never waking up? Well I certainly don't want to just disappear from existence without ever having knowledge of my own Game Over. The prospect is terrifying.

Terrifying...

But I don't really think that's what happens either.

I think we'll get a moment with God. A chance to meet our maker, maybe have a little Q and A... surely we're entitled to it? I think upon that instant in which you die, God will reveal himself to you for all that he's worth. I think you'll realize in that moment that there is no Heaven, there is no Hell, and you've got nothing special coming to you. You will realize that's it, that's the end, do not pass GO or collect 200 anything. Your life was lived on Earth, and now it has ended - just as planned - and now whatever divine spark sat within you will return to its almighty creator.

Sorry folks, but life is here and now, not there and later.

It's kind of a downer, but this is what each of us will realize upon our death.

Then we will realize why.

And suddenly we won't care.

And that's God for ya.

Existence is fleeting.

Just wanted to remind everyone I'm still around. A little fuzzy, but still around.

One moment, I love everything. It's all so amazingly perfect. The next moment, I hate it all. I hate everyone. I want to climb up a tall tree and never come down, until my lifeless skeleton is disloged by the wind.

At least I'm still thinking.

Here are the only three things you need to know about today:

1) I'm not smoking any cigarettes. Quitting again. Hopefully. I just want to feel healthier.

2) The Cleveland Cavs start their season. I'm not gonna lie, the Cavs have always played third-fiddle in my book behind the Indians and Browns. However, they are a Cleveland franchise, and will therefore always have a soft spot in my heart. Really it's LeBron James that interests me more than the team itself. This divine basketball talent has been dropped into our laps, and this season he should be surrounded with the most talent to date. What will he do? How will he forge his legend? There's nothing like watching the truly great discover themselves. We can all learn a lot.

3) I want to find a Bible and read Revelations. I've never done much Biblical study before (never wanted to) but Dan explained to me Revelations is one of the cooler books; with buildup to the apocalypse, and the great epic showdown of good vs. evil. He also said if I could read it, and really make sense of it all, I'd be the first person ever to do so. Sounds to me like it's right up my alley. Now where does one find a Bible...?

"Flanders!"

Almost Heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowin like a breeze

Country roads, take me home

To the place, where I belong

West Virginia, mountain momma

Take me home, country roads

All my memories, gather round her

Miner's lady, stranger to blue water

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky

Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye...

So that song was running through my head this entire weekend. Of course in my head it's not sung by John Denver, rather it's Social Distortion - who's cover version I absolutely adore. I gotta give my props to the great state though, it really is beautiful country. Previously my fondest memory of WV was the Mountaineer basketball team dancing through the NCAA tournament this year. Now I have something a little more tangible.

To reiterate: my weekend kicked ass. It started with a 5-hour drive Friday night to a chilly Fayetville campground. We pitched tents in the darkness, passed out for the night in our zero-degree sleeping bags, and were up by 8 the next morning for some breakfast and a trip down into the Gorge. The day was beautiful, the rock was inspiring, and my mood was calm but eager.

Of course, I knew things were going to go well before we even left the OAC parking lot. Our group consisted of 12 intrepid climbers, led by two of my fellow co-workers who "know the ropes" in a manner of speaking. They prepped all the equipment, got us where we needed to go, and made sure nobody got killed or maimed. After those noble trip leaders, there was Cody, myself.... and eight girls.

That's right; me, Cody, and eight girls. You couldn't have scripted it any better than that. Of course, Cody and myself were the first to sign up for the trip weeks ago, making it clear the kind of crowd that studs like us draw to an event. In all seriousness though, this was great for reasons even beyond the obvious. For one, I was the best climber of the group, and not the only one climbing outdoors for the first time.

I don't know what I was expecting from those chilly crags, but my first climb was an experience I'll never forget. After ambling over a few stacked boulders, I made may way about 20 feet up an 80-foot crack. When I turned around and glanced downward, I was hit with surprisingly strong waves of vulnurability and fear. It was quite intimidating hanging off that cliff face, with a long fall of nastiness below me, and a wide vista of river valley stretching out behind.

I felt much higher than I thought I had climbed, and my belay-anchor Cody looked awfully small as he held the rope that connected me through a pair of carribiners, some 50-feet up that I couldn't see.

For a brief moment, I panicked. I felt genuine fear. I clung to that rock as though my clenched fingers were the only thing keeping me from an untimely death. I suppose it's a good instinct to have, but a little uncomfortable for my likes. I eventually willed myself to drop off, let the rope catch me, and feel some return to security. Sure enough, the equipment held, and with a new confidence I slowly - very slowly - meandered my way to the top.

When I got there, the view itself may have been worth a broken arm. It was one of the most hardcore things I have ever done, and I was rewarded with an equally hardcore snapshot of nature's splendor. Natural beauty: now there's a motivator. Honestly, is there anything else even worth working for? I'm not so sure at this point.

We climbed until darkness, pushing the envelope to a point where our group got split up, and I had to lend Mike (trip leader A) my headlamp to go on search and rescue. Everyone found each other in the end, and we made our way back into town for an epic pizza dinner at Pies and Pints. (Alas, I couldn't get a pint; OAC trip rules.)

The highlight of the evening for me though, went beyond the delicious balsalmic chicken pizza. It was the stars.

Oh man those stars.

Few times in my life have I been privy to such a breathtaking view of the night sky. Constellations, shooting stars, the Milky Way... Mars was closer to us Saturday night than it will be for the next 13 years. I drank all this in like I was downing shots on my 21st birthday. The effect was just as intoxicating... if only for the fact it kept me on my back for about half an hour.

I think the Milky Way was what got me the most. I alway thought it a rediculous prospect that we could look to the night sky and view the galaxy in which we actually reside. Now I better understand the concept though, and looking at that majestic band of starry pinpoints, it felt like the universe had something profound and important to say. Like it was trying to tell a story, and each star was just a different word. Our solar system became a a scentance. Our galaxy; a paragraph.

I've made the decision that if you really look at the night sky long enough, contemplate the stars deeply enough, and understand their essence honestly enough; you can figure everything out. And I mean everything. All of it. From next year's Super Bowl winner, to the true meaning of joy. From the combined weight of squirrels in Akron, to the secrets behind pyramids in Egypt. Every single thing there is to know about our reality is somehow written in those stars.

Think about it like this: we are humans and we inhabit this earth. The stars have been hanging in our sky since the dawn of time. Now if there is a God, (just saying if) and this entire universe was built with us humans as the crux, (which many have come to believe) then what have the stars ever really done for us throughout our existence? Seems to me they've been nothing more than a cool portrait to look at. An image to ponder over. I don't think it's really that farfetched.

Stars are extremely bright fireballs of energy, set far enough away that their radiation comes at us like tiny lasers from all directions. They're clustered into various systems, moving rythmically around the sky; each twinkling at us through trillions of miles of empty void. Everything we know about stars we've learned from indirect observation of their starlight, and even if we could someday bend the laws of physics to visit one or two, we'd never check them all out as there are just too many.

So now you're God: why put so much effort into so much matter that can only be appreciated at a distance? I know of course that at least some stellar energy seems necessary for existence, and their internal fusion reactors cook up the elements we know and love. But we couldn't even appreciate concepts like this until the modern era of scientific discovery. That's a small slice of the human existence pie. Those stars were just doing their thing for the past 10,000 years before we ever figured out why. Could this have been God's signature on the universe?

The night sky would be pretty bland, even a little scary, if we didn't have billions of cosmic rays to look at. So God gave us a reflection of our world out there. He gave us reason to believe in something, and thus reason to believe in ourselves. If we can really see that whole picture, we'll see everything he's been trying to do, and the meaning of life should come full-circle.

I guess that's just part of what I got out of this weekend at "The New". There's another trip planned two weeks from now to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky, and Cody and I are thinking about attending. It's funny, when I first started getting into climbing people were telling me "Just don't become one of those hardcore climbers that do it all the time, those people are crazy." I assured them I never planned on such a thing, and I really didn't, but somehow the seed still got inside me, and now it's grown into a powerful oak. That's a dumb analogy, but the truth is in there.

Climb on.

Happy Halloween y'all.

Just wanted to point out that I returned from WV in one piece... albiet a somewhat newly-polished piece.

The whole weekend was awesome. I'm not sure I can adaquately put it into words, but I'll make some attempt in the next blog. Cody put it best when he said "I don't exactly know what happened to me this weekend, but I'm gonna forever be a different person."

Amen to that.

Out of the way world! I have being to do.

-Hoffman