Made up names

For the record, not only is Elspeth not made-up. Jiagie is not either.

1993-2000 Member of the Ghanna State Council Anni Jiagie


So there.

:)

Neal Peart of Rush addresses accusations of satanism and back tracking

An interesting glimpse into a strange era in rock music where everyone was considered the agents of Lucifer.

The irony is AC/DC shirts are sold in department stores, every major and minor league baseball game in the country plays Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne at least once and black metal bands have been started that actually DO promote satanism, but they get no press at all.

Here is Neal in all of his loquacious glory:
-Mook

Rock Groups Hardly Satanistic
by Neil Peart
Daily Texan, Believed to have been published July 19, 1981
Reprinted in Backstage Club Newsletter with introduction by Neil Peart, September 1983

Hi folks! I've got another little goodie for you this month. Personally I fail to understand why this subject needs to be addressed at all, but there has been such a prevalence of questions about this silliy "Satanism" business directed at our friends and ourselves, that I felt it was time to clear it up once and for all!

This little editorial was written in response to a very vicious and untrue story which a newspaper (The Daily Texan) had printed about all of these rock bands (including ourselves) who were supposed to be concealing Satanist and other anti-social messages in their songs by (get this!) recording them backwards! A real "ha ha" don't you think? Well, they didn't think so, and consequently if you find my reply a little on the strong side you will understand; they made me mad!

As to some of the ridiculous meanings I have heard attached to the "Man and Star" logo by some sick units, one hardly knows what to say! Those who are interested in such things should surely have noticed that the star is not a pentagram, it is of course an open star, which is quite a different geometric and symbolic thing. I even heard recently that there is supposed to be a subliminal "devil's face" worked into the naked man's back! Now really!

I'll tell you what. If you don't understand or care about such things, (good for you!), then just ignore the whole thing. If you are one of those who find "secret" things all over the place, do us a favour; keep it a secret-don't tell anyone! Especially not me.

All seriousness aside, I hope this finds you all well and happy. If you are one of those who attended our concerts on this tour, I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.
Until next time-
Neil Peart

Editor's note: The following column was submitted by a member of the rock group Rush in response to Jim Hankins' July 19 coverage in The Daily Texan of a seminar entitled "No One Here Gets Out Alive." The seminar was sponsered by the Longhorn Christian Fellowship and centered on the theme that many popular rock music songs are trying to turn American youth against Christianity toward satanism or other religions. The group contended that either blatantly or through subliminal means, musicians convey satanic messages in their songs.

I am writing in response to an article which was written by your reporter Jim Hankins in your issue of July 19, "Group seeks to show rock 'n roll Satanic." It was awhile ago, but the article was sent to me through several intermediary steps. Besides, it's never too late to discuss a matter like this, and as I happen to be a member of one of the groups mentioned, perhaps I can interject a little rationality and truth into such a hysterical exercise in propaganda.

Satanism. Now here is a word that should be kept away from some people the way you should keep matches from children and guns from jealous husbands!

There is a certain trait evident in human nature which some people seem to possess in greater degrees. It derives from a state of insecurity and low self-esteem and shows itself in the actions of those who wish to make themselves look good by making others look bad. You see it everywhere once you start to look for it. People who can't gain respect for their own merits feel obliged to try and tear down those who do. We see it in the failures who try to prove their aloofness by criticizing the actions of those who actually do something, or in cases like this one where the weak and pusillanimous prove their righteousness by trying to punish the "less-righteous."

A big advantage to such an attitude is that it keeps them so involved in other peoples' lives that they need not examine their own.

So these are the grim-faced hypocrites who are stirring around in the dark places of life hoping to find something - anything - dirtier than their own reflection. And if they can't find anything - no problem - they'll just make something up!

And here they are accusing rock musicians of being sincere and dedicated satanists attempting to poison the souls of America's youth with subliminal messages of devil-worship. You know that's almost a very good joke! Almost.

As one who knows many of these "demonic figures" personally, especially some of those mentioned in the article, the idea of some of these sold-out, burnt-out, cynical, strutting peacocks being so deeply and religiously committed to anything (save their "image" and chart numbers) is also a bit of a joke. And a pretty lame one at that!

These nameless mercenaries don't even demonstrate that kind of commitment in their music why on earth would they be bothered to go to all that trouble to put anything else into it? All they need (and care) to do is find a kind of lowest common denominator of commercial "acceptability." Yes, you Christian crypto-fascists, it is a joke! The only problem is - you're not laughing.

I'm not laughing anymore, either. I've started to receive too many questions and letters from confused and impressionable young people wanting to know if it's true that we worship the devil. Who is it that is corrupting the minds of young Americans?

Let us not for one minute forget that this is the same self-righteous mentality that has put itself to work persecuting witches, Christians, Jews, Quakers, Indians, Catholics, Negroes, Communists, hippies and capitalists down through the ages. There's always somebody to kick you when you're down. It seems like every group has taken its turn at one end of the stick or the other. From the bitter oppressed to the righteous oppressor is a very short step.

Speaking for myself, as lyricist and drummer for "Rush", and one of those accused of this heinous crime, I must object, Your Honors. Far from being a closet Satanist, I confess crudely, I don't even believe in the old bastard! I wonder if that's better or worse in your eyes, Grand Inquisitor?

I can certainly assure you that my lyrics contain no "demonic" secret messages or cleverly concealed mystical commercials. Nothing like that, I'm afraid. It is not only absurd and pathetic, but it is also totally incompatible with my philosophy, my work and my beliefs.

I get all kinds of letters from people like this whose perceptions are narrowed and distorted by pre-set values and ideas, telling me the most fantastic things that they have somehow "discovered" in my words! As is ever true - they find what they want to find. Fair enough. I know what I put in there. It isn't that, and it isn't this either. Period.

I don't wish to offend anyone's genuine beliefs, as it is a fundamental tenet in my philosophy that people should believe what they choose to believe. It must be stated, though, that when you've "got" religion, like Siddhartha, you find it everywhere you look. And when you've got evil, you'll find it everywhere you look, too.

Ah! It's the old "recorded backwards" trick again, is it Watson? Ha! I'm sure you could play "The Star Spangled Banner" backwards and find a secret message there too. Wouldn't Francis Scott Key be surprised at your cleverness! How do you suppose he knew what it said in 1812?

Don't you think something as vague as this is rather like a Rorschach ink-blot, or cloud shapes? Interpretation is based on the perceiver's state of mind - not on any objective reality. An ink-blot is a cloud is a song - frontwards or backwards. One finds what one wishes to find.

Yes, there's something subliminal at work here all right. The subliminal and poisonous sickness that dwells in the minds of these fearful and pompous so-called Christians. And they even call themselves a "Fellowship." Think about that for a minute. Then think about what this paper and others have accomplished by giving innocent ink and paper over to this kind of drivel. You readers don't know that I would never even use the kind of grammar that these people have attributed to me, let alone the insipid and valueless supposed message. Listen to this: "Oh Satan, you, you are the one who is shining. Walls of Satan, walls of sacrifice; I know it's you are the one I love." That's disgusting. I mean really you just know these people have to be sick. If you don't believe me, ask my Mom!

As a Mormon, I'm used to the logical gymnastics that I'm forced to go through to make certain facts reconcile with belief.

Oxford compiles list of top ten irritating phrases

Some of the smartest minds in the world at Oxford University put their combined intellect together, along with a super-computer database full of news, blogs, articles, books and speeches. The result of this timely and costly work?


The top ten most irritating phrases:

1 - At the end of the day

2 - Fairly unique

3 - I personally

4 - At this moment in time

5 - With all due respect

6 - Absolutely

7 - It's a nightmare

8 - Shouldn't of

9 - 24/7

10 - It's not rocket science


I could probably come up with some worse ones, but these are pretty good... or bad.

Bubb Rubb & Lil' Sis

So, a few years ago the Bay Area suffered at the hands a few shops that would trick out cars for various reasons, including muffler add-ons that would whistle while running.

This hilarious clip is about the infamous Bubb Rubb and Lil' Sis.



The clip was so popular, people have been playing with it for a long time. Here is one little girl that seemed to like the video too:



And finally a remix of the singing for your dancing pleasure:



Gidian has had a few nicknames in his day:

Gidian
Gidro
Gidster
Booga
Booga Lou
Bubba
Bubbie
Bubba Lou
Bubbie Lou
Scooby Doo
Scoob
Booby Blue
Bub
and finally: Bubb Rubb.


Nickname update for Elspeth:
Jiagie
Jiager
Jiagie Roger
Jiager Dodger
Sweetie
Sweeters
Sister Jiagie Sweeters (her full name)
And finally: Lil' Sis

New videos

One of Jiagie and Gidian

and

A quick documentary on the birth of Jiagie.

Please sign in to YouTube and Subscribe to my "channel" and then Rate and Comment on my videos, so I know if anyone is watching them and/or if you like them.

My wife explaining to my friends why I can't get certain times off.

HA! Ok so you all know that I don't side with Ben much here, but you clearly don't understand the nature of this shitty job. He COULD take some time off and have a nice long vaca.....until he found another job. I can't even tell you how many people have had a family emergency or death and they seriously have to weigh taking off the time. The other thing you don't understand is even though it's possible to do 90% of the work from home....it's not really done that way. The firm environment is old school, they like to preach that you can work remotely but just try it. Really the remote hookup is so that you don't have an excuse to not work from your deathbed, otherwise your ass better be planted in your cubicle like every other poor bastard there. It's a really weird, old school mind set.

It's a shame...they'll tell you that if you need to then take it, but they also don't tell you that there will be consequences to it, you find that out at your review down the road. Most jobs tell you that "life happens" but you better do your best to make them happen AROUND the deadlines. Ben's first job told him NOT to move or have a baby during busy season....and they were serious. When I had Gidian in April he was able to take that day off....sort of.

The good thing for me is that my ugly time is only once a year with some stress around the october deadline, and now quarterly with payroll filings....but Ben is different, he doesn't do taxes...he has these damn quarterlys PLUS the extended deadline and then the deadlines for those with fiscal years, pretty much there is a damn deadline every other month with every month having a heavy busy time.

I couldn't have Els earlier than the 19th because of his damn deadline and in fact I should have had her the 20th or the 21st because I wasn't thinking that it was the extention deadline...he seriously had to work like crazy and should have worked while we were in the hospital but couldn't get the internet connection there to work.

It's cliche/ridiculous how high the turnover rate for an accountant is....there is a reason for that, it's not because they pay you well, give you lots of time off and don't expect your first born in return. So why do it? Becuase it's glamorous. Actaully it's because it looks a hell of alot better than the job most of us had when we went into business school and by the time we figure out what a sham it is it's too late....the ink is dry on the devil's contract and the loans need to be paid.

Bubba's 5th birthday bash. This is the Gidian few get to see.

Bubba's favorite commercial.

First watch this.

Then watch this.

Against All Odds

August has been a weird month.

I have celebrated my 20 year high school class reunion, the birth of my daughter, my 38th birthday and my 10th year anniversary. Who would have thought.

I had never made any real plans to get this old. Not that I thought I would die young, but my plans only went out to college, career, house, wife and kids. I'm not really sure where to go from here, or if I should go anywhere at all (except to a bigger house, I just read B'Andra's mind in the future as she reads this ;) ).

I'm lucky to have such a intelligent, cute, funny, fun wife who is such a good mom. I had forgotten the work that goes into a newborn. Wow. Just: WOW. Not even mentioning the trauma that her body has gone through (I took video for her) and is still going through (turns out little Jiagie thinks that if she is awake, she should be nursing), but she is tired beyond belief and when a baby nurses ever 1-3 hours, it pretty much takes up your day. Doesn't sound too bad, right? But you forget (as I did) that it takes nearly an hour to DO the nursing. I'm grateful for her willingness to bring another baby into the world and into our family.

My job is becoming more and more consuming the more responsibilities I take on. B'Andra is so supportive of my job, everyone in the office is jealous of me. She is very patient with the little to no help at home. She gets frustrated and gives me a wake up call occasionally, which I need, but it makes it nice that she realizes how important it is to be able to not only earn a salary, but progress.

The thing that stands out in my mind at the moment that I owe her for is for sticking with me "in sickness or in health" (which was not part of our wedding vows). 3 years ago I was getting sick every 6 weeks. Very sick and she always nursed me back to health and didn't push me when I was feeling weak. It was she and she alone that finally grabbed a doctor by the proverbial ears and said, "Figure this out NOW!"

The finally took me seriously enough to stop the strep culture tests and actually do some real blood work. 3 years later, my thyroid medicine is ramped up to 125 micrograms and a daily regimen of 4 other pills, I am free from my affliction. Gone are the days that missing single nights sleep would put me into a high fever for 4 days. Gone are the days that my sick leave are used up in the first 3 months of the year. Gone are rummaging through the cabinets for old painkillers from dental work so I could drink some water and get to sleep.

Thanks, baby. You are the best!

For our 10 year, B'Andra gave me my dream: another child
I gave her an engraved paver stone in the Disneyland Entrance Plaza that reads our names and our wedding date (August 22, 1998) and an invitation to Club 33.

We beat the odds, baby. Here's to 10 more!
I love you!

What's in a name

So, we started with B'Andra making it very clear that she alone was calling the shots on the name for our little girl. She claims that I was able to pick Gidian, a name she was not crazy about, and that it was her turn.

Hard to argue with someone actually forming the child in her belly and suffering all the discomfort associated with the task.

So B' set a few rules:
1) the name could NOT be made up. it had to exist in a name book, genealogy chart or something.
2) it could not be so common that it was a trend name (i.e. we had chosen Ella a few years ago, but in the meantime, it has become very popular)
3) it had to be classy and hopefully something that would work for a child AND an adult.

I should get a copy of the list of names that were in the running. Some pretty cool names.

The reason we went with Elspeth:
1. It is unique
2. It sounds pretty
3. It is the Scottish version of Elizabeth (B'Andra has a Scottish heritage as her maiden name is McAffee), another name in the top 5 and my mom's favorite name of all time.
4. It has great nicknames: Elsie, Elsa, Elise, Betty (just kidding, Betty is off limits)
5. Elsa (a diminutive of Elspeth) is the Danish version Elizabeth: Consecrated to God.

The reason we went with D'Lene:
1. Madelene was at the top of the name list
2. Dalene was in the baby name book shown as a diminutive form of Madelene.
3. Dalene sounds like B'Andra's parents Dallen and Shirlene combined without being made up.
4. We decided to change the spelling to D'Lene as a memorial to B'Andra's dad and his history of cool spelling protocol as shown by the following list of B'Andra's siblings:

Gragn Ethn
Shamby Cryl
B'Andra Rhondi
DeLys Aryann
Zont'l Phylesh

So we added the apostrophe, the capital letter in the middle of the name and the seemingly obvious shortage of vowells.

Nick names:

Jiagie:

Jiagie came around when B' was pregnant last summer. we were in Disneyland (I can see you are surprised by that) and we would talk about the baby, but B'Andra thought we needed a name. At the time, Gidian had "Pirates on the Brain" and we were going laps through Pirates of the Carribean. At the time, Gidian pronounced Jolly Roger (the priate flag with skull of bones) Jiagie Roggah (jaw-gee raw-gah). So we just started call the baby Jiagie.

As most of you know, Jiagie I never happened and everytime Gidian asked "Mommy, where is Jiagie?" She would cry. So when she got pregnant last november and told Gidian, he said "Jiagie is back???? ". So cute.

So he has been calling Mom's belly Jiagie since day 1 and before we knew if it were a boy or girl. We will try to keep that nick name in the family, but I'm afriad it is here to stay.

Other nicknames that have surfaced already:

Els Bells. Cute for two reasons: Elle is 'girl' in French and "Belle" is beautiful in French. So Els Bells = Beautiful Girl. And it is also a kick-ass AC/DC song!

Bug-a-boo. Or just Bug. This one just crept up on accident, like Bubba for Gidian. Nothing you would ever plan or athorize, but just feels right.

In the life of Baby Elspeth

Elspeth
Consecrated to God.

Each sentence has a hot-linked word, in case you can't see it. If not, just click on all the words, you'll find it eventually! :)

She has a case of chronic hiccups.

Here is her first bath.

Here is the first bath at home.

Here is Gidian with a handy song to remember her name.

First diaper change in the hospital.

Here is Jiagie three minutes in the real world and already grabbing daddy's hand for comfort.

Spring in SLC

A lot of people ask me where I"m from. The list rivals that of any Army brat: Provo, Bountiful, North Salt Lake, St. George, Midway, Salt Lake City. (ok, and Army brat in the nation of Zion, I never left Utah)(unless you add Voronezh, Russia; Pan Yu, China and Cleveland, Ohio).

Since Heber Valley is where my parents still live and where I graduated from high school, people assume that is where I call home. But I quickly correct them: "I grew up in St. George. That is my hometown." And I feel that way. All of my fond childhood memories are in St. George. I get nostalgic when I go there and feel the sun rays that are unique to Dixie. When I smell the smells of the sparse vegetation and see the desert landscapes and sprawling urban blight, I feel like I'm home... felt like I was home.

But more and more, Salt Lake is becoming my home. I have, after all, lived her the longest of any single city: 12 years and counting. This is where I came when I finally struck out on my own. I came knowing nobody and having nothing, but an associates degree from Dixie and some skills with a sauté pan and a spatula.

I eventually found a job at Chili's and a place to live. Originally it was alone in a boarding house with some ex-homeless dudes and a billion cockroaches (which my biology teacher said couldn't live in Utah. Apparently, he failed to factor in the filth that can be accumulated by some people.)

I was able to find some roommates, got accepted into the U's accounting program and found the love of my life. All within a few blocks of the Temple. Even my first job after my MBA program was a block from Chili's, my first SLC employer. And my first apartment after marriage was a block from my old apartment and 4 blocks from Chili's.

Now I live 6 blocks due south of that same Chili's and work 1 block north of the Energy Solutions Arena (Delta Center). So you can see, I'm pretty tied to this geography.

I really like my old neighborhood and the old timey houses, as sucky as ours is. Our ward is weird, because it is more like a "missionfield" ward than a Utah ward. Our neighbors are interesting as well. The confirmed bachelor to the West who spends more time on his vehicles than most do on their career and family put together. The cute couple to the East who single handedly raised the property value of my home $10K each (they are really hot). There is the Bolivian/San Salvatore family across the street. 4 generations, last I checked. That isn't bad, it's the pet pit bulls that bother me. But the son, Jimmy, makes up for it by being a really good drummer in a Death Metal band and I love to listen to them play. Of course, we have the former bishopric member sharing our backyard who has laid claim to about 500 sq. ft of our yard, thieving bastard that he is.

All in all, it is a fun place to live. I'm a mile from NBA games, concerts of all types and genres. I have access to all sorts of ethnic foods. I work with a girl from Beijing, I stop and chat with a former Chili's cook from Mexico all the time who lives near my home. We had grilled sausages last Saturday overlooking the valley from Federal Heights with a mathematics professor from Serbia. My two best friends from the MBA program are Samoan and Congolese.

I get crap my from brothers as being a "city slicker". Having been to some big cities in my day, here and abroad, Salt Lake is decidedly NOT a big city. It has a very small town feel. Small town atmosphere with big city luxuries. And I love how June 3 is cool enough to need a jacket in the morning.

Trying some more

Some pictures, this time.

Trying more features of my new toy

Hmmm. This is working quite right.

Duck Head: the consumption

ScribeFire and I'm back baby!!

Ok, after a lot of pressure from the old man, I'm resuming my blog.

I have some new software add-on called SCRIBEFIRE for my Firefox webbrowser that makes it really easy. So, hopefully I will think of it more often and share all my zany adventures and ideas with you all.

I'll write more later, but I'll leave you with this thought:

A lady took a clock to a German clockmaker to get it fixed. "My clock will tic, but it won't toc", said the women.

The old man said sinisterly, "Ve have vays to make it TOC."

An answer to this sloggers infrequent prayers

Church Unveils "Slow-Track" Program - By Amy Chamberlain

SALT LAKE CITY

In order to better meet the needs of "our most average members," church representative Howard S. Jeppeson announced the creation of a new slow-track membership program. "This program caters to those members of the church who may not be top-level celestial material but who are still willing to put in a nominal effort toward their own salvation," he said.

The slow-track program includes the same components of normal church membership, but at a more relaxed pace. Members who sign on for the program are required to read scriptures and have personal and family prayer once a week, attend church once a month, visit teach or home teach four times a year, and watch one session of general conference every other year. If slow-track members can commit to these requirements for five years, they can earn a temple recommend stamped with an S for "slow track," after which they are expected to attend the temple semiannually. According to Jeppeson, the church may create a shorter, condensed version of the temple ceremony for S-track members "in order to better accommodate those members' shorter attention spans and lower levels of ambition."

Social historian Jane Schippen, PhD, a long-time scholarly observer of Mormon society, hails the new slow-track program. "Mormonism pays a great deal of attention to its high achievers, like those who are stake president before they turn forty or women who have eight children and maintain a spotless house," she observed. Similarly, she continued, "Mormons spend a lot of time and energy worrying about those on the other end of the spectrum, the less-actives." She sees the slow-track program as "a way to acknowledge and honor the vast majority of Mormons, those who will never hold high positions of leadership but who are nevertheless active - the sloggers, if you will."

Logan Stake president Gary L. Hackett agrees with Schippen and says that the new slow-track program "will prod the lazy ones into progressing at least a little bit, which is an improvement." He estimates that implementing the slow track will cut administrative tasks, such as nagging phone calls to complete home or visiting teaching, by as much as 75 percent. "It's about time we recognized that not everyone in the church is that top ten percent of the celestial kingdom material," he notes. "And, really, that's okay. I mean, the bottom two levels of the celestial kingdom are supposed to be pretty good too, right?"

Most members seem happy with the soon-to-be-implemented system. "Let's face it," says local member Larry K. Whiting. "I'm not cut out for this high-paced, pressure-oriented Mormon lifestyle. I mean, home teaching four families every month? The scheduling alone takes way too much time. And then I have to go over there and pretend I care about these people when I'd rather be home watching ESPN? Give me the slow-track program any day."

Local member Kendra Koenig agrees. "Do you know how much fun it is trying to roust five kids out of bed for family scripture study and prayer at 6:30A.M.? I am sick to death of nagging them about it, and you can believe it's not doing our family harmony any good." She praised the slow-track system for offering a more realistic temple-attendance schedule. "Like anyone who has a life can manage to get out there twice a month? This slow-track program is the answer to my infrequent prayers."

The Open Pulpit: Blessing or Curse?

By: Ronan - September 13, 2005

There is one indisputable fact about Mormonism, something that not even those pesky Signature Books-types can call into question, something so true that no FAIR-defense can deny:

Mormons say CRAZY things from the pulpit.

Everyone knows this. Missionaries sweat about bringing investigators to Sacrament meeting ("I do hope the talks aren’t CRAZY"). Fast and Testimony meeting is worse ("will Brother CRAZY get up?") My ward, in an effort to get people to bring their friends to church, has set a date where specially selected non-CRAZY people will talk.

I’m sure everyone has their favourite bizarre sacrament meeting moment. Mine is of a brother in England who demonstrated that "evolution can’t be true as humans and monkeys have one crucial difference: humans have sex face to face."

Cue sinking into the pew agony.

For a missionary church, so bothered about PR, it’s a wonder we have an open pulpit policy where anything goes. Some of us intellectual snobs crave a well-honed homily from a multi-degreed priest. To allow Sister DeWalt to drawl on about wringing the necks of chickens with a prayer in her heart is a crime. IT’S A CRIME!

But here’s the truth: I have long thought that the Mormon open pulpit is both our curse and our blessing. Once in a while, something so heart-felt, so uncontrived graces the pulpit, that it is worth a decade of craziness. In the household of God, all are equal. Even the weird ones who say CRAZY stuff. There’s a wonderful practicality to all this too: I have absolutely no fear of public speaking, something I ascribe in large part to having given my first talk when I was 9. I talked about Elijah and the priests of Baal. I don’t think it was crazy.

In the end, madness I can forgive. Just don’t bore me.

Tragic Event Forces Man To Spend Rest Of Life Confined To Office Chair

SALT LAKE CITY, UT—The life of college graduate Ben Larsen was forever changed earlier this decade when the once outgoing and carefree student succumbed to a job offer at a local CPA firm, an unforeseen and tragic event that will most likely keep him confined to an office chair for the rest of his life.

While he can sometimes rise from his office chair under his own power, Larsen said he can only do so with "great difficulty."

While many details remain unclear, it is now believed that Larsen lost any and all upward mobility moments after being hired for an auditing position at Hansen, Barnett & Maxwell in January 2003. According to several eyewitnesses at the scene, the impact of Larsen's full-time employment was so sudden and crushing that it has left the former active young man paralyzed in front of his work computer screen ever since.

"You hear stories about it all the time, but you never think that something like this is going to happen to you," said Larsen, who now spends most days trapped inside a windowless cubicle, and only leaves his office chair in order to use the bathroom. "It's funny: One minute you have your entire future ahead of you, and the next thing you know, you practically need someone to drag you out of bed in the morning."

Due to Larsen's condition, simple, everyday tasks such as grocery shopping, walking his dog, or even just cleaning up after himself have become virtually impossible feats. In addition, Larsen admitted that he has been forced to abandon a number of his favorite activities, from hiking, rock climbing to just kicking his feet up and playing nerdy role playing games.

Larsen, who claims to have lost "all sense of purpose" due to this harrowing turn of events, is already finding it difficult to remember a time when he "didn't feel completely numb."

"People keep telling me that it's going to get easier, that I won't always be stuck in this position, but right now, every minute of every day is a struggle," Larsen said.

In recent weeks, Larsen has also found himself requiring the aid of various stimulants and drugs, such as caffeine, sugar, and even Diet Rock Star, just to get through the day. Worse yet, those close to the once lively 36-year-old report that he has become almost entirely dependent on computers to communicate with those around him.

"I realize that what happened to Ben is nobody's fault, but still I sometimes wish I could have my old buddy back," said longtime friend Menges, who recently visited Ben in his cubicle. "At first I tried pretending like nothing had changed, but every time I looked at him all I could see was that…that chair."

News of Larsen's debilitating employment has left his loved ones shocked and feeling helpless.

"Ben had such a bright future—he could have gone on to do anything he wanted," said CJ Larsen, who claimed that he almost didn't recognize his brother. "To see him like this now, in that button-down dress shirt and those pleated slacks, it's almost too much to bear."

"He didn't deserve this," he added. "Nobody deserves this."

While Larsen has often thought about quitting for good, one thing has kept him going through it all.

"Sometimes I imagine what a relief it would be if I just gave up all together, if I never had to deal with another weekday ever again," Larsen said. "But then I think about my school loans, mortgage and my credit card debt, and I know I have no choice but to keep going."

Gidian Speaks Out

Clearly, a mistake has been made. For whatever reason, I have been singled out and wrongly characterized by the adult world as a "real handful." In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.

I concede that I am something of a live wire. Given to the occasional outburst of what might in all fairness be called hyperactivity, especially in cases involving high sugar intake—of course. But the "handful" classification is problematic at best, a gross exaggeration at worst.

Am I a child who is sometimes difficult? Yes. Am I a difficult child? No. The distinction is more than semantic.

Once you get a reputation for being a handful, everything you do is automatically cast in a negative light. Suspicious glances meet you every time you even think about touching the TV, and God forbid you come within five feet of a computer. You have, in effect, already been accused, tried, and sentenced for actions you have not even taken. From then on, anything you do is retroactively construed as "problem behavior."

Knowingly or unknowingly, adults create a set of expectations that a 4-year-old like me can't help but internalize on some level. After enough humiliating time-outs, those who are treated as handfuls start thinking of themselves as such.

Admittedly, my attention span is short, and at times I am easily distracted by colorful and/or Disney-shaped stimuli in my immediate environment. But I cannot stress enough the importance of early-childhood self-image formation. (I believe Thomas the Tank Engine has explored this subject in some detail—I'd cite the specific episode but unfortunately I don't have it in front of me at the moment.)

A label like "handful"—nothing more than a social construct—can take years to shake off. It could very well haunt me until I'm 6, even 7 years old. And by that time, it probably will have led to something even worse. Today it may be "handful," but how long before you are being called a wisenheimer, or even worse, a Buster Brown?

Now, allow me to preempt a predictable yet fallacious argument from my detractors: that by complaining, I am being a big crybaby-face. I understand the impulse to render my argument moot by resorting to ad hominem attacks, but again, it is an unfair assessment of my character. I have never been one to engage in manipulative grandstanding, and I have no patience for those who use whining, balled-up fists, or stomping on the floor as measures by which to flout adult authority. On the contrary, I stand by my previous assertion that I have a legitimate grievance to air, and, while my tummy does indeed ache, this is a much more serious ill.

It is the "terrible twos" all over again. A whole year boiled down to being "terrible," despite many notable achievements during those 12 months. I made huge strides in shape recognition and speech acquisition. Plus, need I remind you, I learned to walk while carrying a stuffed animal in my hands.

Further evidence of selective memory on the subject of my conduct can be seen in the failure to recognize and praise my more recent achievements. I've managed to start putting away my blocks more than 50 percent of the time. I can almost tie my shoes; true, I cannot loop yet, but have perfected the first phase. Plus, I can now button my shirt. And yet, in that specific instance, more attention was paid to the fact that I might not have gotten my shirttails exactly even than to the fact that I had made a breakthrough in the much more challenging arena of button-fastening.

Not unlike the proverbial infant strapped into a bouncy-bouncy chair, I am at the mercy of the adult world's judgment, a world in which any protest on my part is met with the suggestion that maybe somebody needs a nap. As if a few minutes of lie-down sleepy-time could even begin to solve a problem this systemic and pervasive!

How so-called "grown-ups" could resort to such base stereotyping in their supposedly advanced thinking is beyond my comprehension. So I beg you, as mature big people, to reconsider this damaging opinion which has caused far too much pain already. Thank you, bye-bye, and have a good day. Editorial all gone!