Currently, Wrestlemania is (performing?) occurring in the town in which my brother teaches. A man named Hassan was just stepping on the head of a French-Canadian named Benoit, after delivering an impassioned speech about anti-Arab prejudice. Is it just me, or is Wrestlemania an unlikely forum for healing and understanding? Maybe it's the placards being held by the crowd, maybe it's the stepping on of heads. Maybe it's just me.
Also, in the background between laundry orgy and various snacking and meals here at the Sleeping Bear Lodge (where naan and cream cheese is the new taste sensation) I have learned that apparently a family of father and sons called the Tuttles, who make customized chopper motorcycles, are extremely popular, including with
koaloha's roommate's boyfriend. Their show resembles The Osbournes and This Old House on meth and with more dramatic facial hair. At the end of one episode, the processed-hair (and possibly processed-cerebellum) -sporting son Michael opined about how holding a newborn baby was like nothing else. And then how "When it all comes down to it, we're just a family. A family that builds great bikes."
In further news, one of the participating sponsors of
Christian Paintball is near my dad's new town. On that note:
Make sure to click on "Paintball isn't" (hint: "violence" completes the thought), "Hell stinks," and "yeehaw!" And feel free to visit "RamboPreacher"'s bbs.