Milestone Or Odometer Flip

I guess yesterday marked my 400th post. Yeah. I'm feeling the excitement myself. I always have so many things I always want to say. I just always find myself short of time. Don't we all.

In the player today:

Marshall Tucker Band - live 12/31/78
Van Morrison - 11/1/78 live
Van - 9/5/71 live
Sheryl Crow - live 2/18/99
SC - Wildflower
a disc from one of my students
The Band - Stage Fright
Bob Dylan - Nashville Skyline
Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger
She & Him - Volume One
Garth Brooks - No Fences
Eagles - Hotel California

I'm finally mad at Barack Obama. My t-shirts didn't come. Oh well. Al Gore officially endorsed tonight; I guess he won't be on the ticket. Maybe Secretary of Energy or Interior? EPA head? For starts and giggles, maybe head of the FEC. :) Listening to NPR today, I heard an interesting story on McCain's tax policies. Check them out. They make Bush's seem like a Democrat's. McCain's plan will mainly benefit the top one percent of the top one percent of tax payers. Meanwhile, all we hear is that Obama's raising taxes on people. Yeah, the top income earners of the country who statistically bury their tax burden into their corporate columns and pay a smaller percentage on their overall wealth. It's not fair. Neither is being able to pass off tax paying responsibilities into a business set up in order to not pay as much as someone making $115,000, who wouldn't be able to pass off the onus. Have to love that 19th century Supreme Court that saw that a corporation was an individual and protected under the 14th Amendment. But black men weren't. Oh well.

As I said yesterday, I'm feeling 4-H-y. I always do every June. That's when, back when I was young, I'd always leave for summer camp in the wonderful Napa Valley. Tucked in a small mountain range is tiny Las Posadas State Forest with an eighty-year old summer camp. I spent parts of ten summers of my life there and made some of the greatest memories of my life there. Those memories are mine, though, and a bit too personal (and mundane) for everyone else (the three of you!). This year I have three former students up there counseling for the last time in their lives as the age limit is 19. They asked if they could write me and for me to send them a note. I will, as according to age-old tradition, one must get up and publicly humiliate him or herself at lunchtime in front of the whole camp in order to have one's mail. Rolling an orange with your nose or feeding your friend pudding blindfolded or whatever. As I write this, I can see my old friends and remember those times like they just happened.

Here's to tomorrow and the future. And my kids' future. Obama 08!!!