OK, as painful as this is to admit, I am watching American Idol right now. In fact, I've watched it from season one. That's right, I said it! I consider it karmic penance for the "little things" I've done wrong in life. The guilty pleasure that is watching the show, comes with the price of shame and embarrassment as I watch a program that goes against the very fiber of my being. It represents several facets of our modern culture and society that irk the hell out of me. But there's just something about it that makes it tolerable to watch. In the early stages, the show is much easier to watch and quite frankly is just downright funny. What lures in the unsuspecting viewer are the auditions and early episodes where all the freaks come out to play. Let's face it, we all love to stare at the car wreck, laugh at other's misfortune, and mock those who possess personalities that defy the "norm". Who can turn down a sideshow? After 3-4 episodes of simply retarded comedy, you slowly build subconscious attachments and favorites as they blast notes, pitches and seismic vibrato that tickle your soul and pinch your bladder just enough to send you to the can 4 times in the show's hour.

Personally, I rationalize watching the show by comparing it to the gladiator fights in ancient Rome. Except in 2006 they sing instead of fight to the death.
The further on the show goes, the less interested I become. Like the last 2 presidential elections, as a collective whole, the voting America has proven to be blind, ignorant and simply dumb. See all those Red States? Yeah, there are a LOT of people in those states...a lot of dumbass people. Not ALL of the people in these states naturally, but enough to decide the fate of the country when it counts most. So with that in mind, there will naturally always be the head scratchers where you say aloud, "You gotta be KIDDING ME!! You're fucking STUPID America!!" as they vote off the next David Hasselhoff (HUGE in Germany).

Oh, and all the Blue State voters...it's quite obvious that you are "with the terrorists" and I probably shouldn't speak with you. In fact, I'm probably on some "watch list" right now for typing the word t3rr0r1$t.

"Congratulations!! You've just won a week long...no, month long..no, year long...actually we really can't say so let's just call it indefinitely...a trip to the United States tropical resort in GUANTANAMO BAY!!"

No thanks...not me...So I'm gonna wrap this up now. But before I do, the whole reason I felt compelled to write...

Paula Abdul is a fucking LOON, a certifiable, Grade A, pasteurized, homogenized, 100 percent, Now with Marshmallows, QUACK!!! She has not an ounce of credibility because everyone's SOOOOOOO fucking good! The power of pain killers and boxed wine, my friends. Happiness through chemistry and fermentation. Understanding that (once again) the circus sideshow fetish our society has boosts ratings, expect to see her inebriated, flighty, sluttiness to only intensify as the contest enters it's twilight.

Gotta run...there's someone at the door. 3 jet black SUV's and guys in trenchcoats. Maybe it's Publisher's Clearinghouse!!

Boyce....OUT!! (that was so fucking gay)

I was out walking the dog last night when I looked up at the sky above me, and there resided the brightest, most luminous moon I had seen in quite some time. So bright was this night's moon that the usually prevalent craters that littered its landscape were lost amidst the glaring white light that emanated from it. And as I gazed skyward at this celestial beacon, I began to scan the rest of the night sky as hundreds of stars flickered with varying magnitudes. I immediately eyed the most identifiable constellation, Ursa Major (the Big Dipper). There was Virgo, Centaurus, and Corvus. The brightest and most prominent was the planet Venus, with Mars trailing not too far away.

It was at this moment that I realized just how long it had been since I've taken the time to observe this magnificent display that loomed overhead. For most of my life, astronomy had been a passion of mine. Ever since I was a little kid, all I wanted to be when I grew up was an astronaut. Up until several years ago I had telescopes, books upon books about stars, planets, and the universe. The infinite nature of the universe and all of the questions and potential discoveries that it held amazed me to no end. I would spend nights sitting in dark open fields with my book of constellations, memorizing every one, and the name of every star it was comprised of.

My earliest memories of this fascination with astronomy came when I was 7 or 8 years old. I would look up at the sky and think to myself, "This star is the exact same star Benjamin Franklin looked at in his time." That thought alone occupied countless hours as I attempted to digest the sheer magnitude of such a concept. I thought of how amidst all of the change and evolution we have experienced on our planet, the one constant has been the stars. The stars are the one thing that connects all beings on earth. Look at something on the land or the sea, and only those within range can view it. But the stars...if you look at a particular star in the night sky, within 12 hours someone on the other side of the earth can see the same one. Someone thousands of miles away can look at the same star as you are at the exact same time. Nothing else can achieve such a remarkable feat.

I used to imagine that when it was time for the people on Earth to sleep, God would put a blanket over us, which made it dark. And so we could breathe, he poked holes in the blanket, which allowed the light on the other side to peek through, creating the stars. I would stare in awe knowing that there were more stars in the universe than individual grains of sand on all of the beaches in the world. When I took astronomy in college, I never studied for a test and still got an A.

So as I looked up at this night sky, now a 30 year old man, I realized for the first time that somewhere, somehow, the passion that once burned inside of me was lost. The marvel, the mystique, the wonderment...all of it, was gone. Nothing had changed; it was still the same sky that captured my imagination so many years before. And it was no less a mysterious puzzle now than it was then. This starry sky that had conjured up so many questions and such an overwhelming curiosity in me, was now evoking a new mystery, and a new round of questions.

At what point in life do we lose touch with the things that once stirred our imaginations? There is a certain measure of innocence that is inevitably lost as we travel on our respective paths in life. Our tastes and perspectives change, as do our thoughts, wishes and dreams. Priorities shift and we suddenly find ourselves somewhere we never thought we'd be. These are evident truths that we all face whether we meticulously plan and craft them, or if the twists and turns of life ultimately dictate them, and one day...there you are.

That night, as I stood in the street with Charlie tugging at his leash, I felt a bit despondent. I am beginning to accept the reality that whatever youth I now possess seems to be created only through conscious decisions and actions. In a few short weeks I will be 31, and while that's nothing - a mere blip in the timeline of the average man - in the grand scheme of things it does serve as a reminder that although the sky will always be there, how you look at it will inevitably change. Sometimes you see it coming, while other times you won't know it until it's too late.

So whatever your starry sky may be...your passion, your dream, your hobby or lusts...make the most of it while it lasts. Because one day you may look up to find that it's gone.