A Public Announcement: Potential For Reptilians in Our Midst

This is, in fact, a public announcement about the possibility of reptilians running amuck throughout the planet and quite possibly trying to take over the world!  Really.  I wish I were kidding.

It started when I had this crazy idea for a short story about a reptilian-humanoid type monster thingy terrorizing this guy and his pets (I know what you're thinking, don't write fiction!).  I started doing some online research and was surprised to find quite a bit of information on reptilian creatures.  The thing is, these folks on the websites I read actually believe there are reptilian beings in existence and that they live amongst us right now!  And I thought the Scientologists had the corner on wacky beliefs!

There seem to be a couple of theories bandied about as to their existence.  In one theory they evolved prior or parallel to us homo sapiens and are now trying to take over the world. In another theory they as space aliens, and are trying to take over the world.  Either as our reptile brethren or as space invaders, they seem to have infiltrated our planet (or at least some people's imaginations), and have their cold blooded hearts set on world domination.

I found this excerpt from the smarmy and condescending Bill Maher's movie, Religulous, in which Maher chats with David Icke, a former professional footballer and football commentator (that would be soccer to us uncouth Americans) about his belief in reptilians:




 And the reason we don't see them is because they can shape shift, which is a very convenient ability to have (especially when trying to convince others of their existence without a credible photo in hand).

And yes, Bible zealots/conspiracy theorists have found Biblical references to the existence of reptilians as being the ancient Nephilim of the Old Testament, as seen in this video.  If you don't make it to the end of this one, I will understand:



When I first started to watch this I thought it a farce, but then I realized she is serious.  Amazing.  I did find the video quite humorous, however. The fact that the lady mispronounced Nephilim throughout the video made me snicker.  And the photos of supposed reptilians drew a full guffaw from time to time.  Still...

There were other websites that I could mention, but I'll  will spare you the agony.  (Well, there was this one about malevolent reptilians that could enter the "astral dream scape" and could sodomize you in your dreams, but I digress.)  I'll let you to your own research.  And I know what you're thinking, perhaps The Muller is a reptilian and I'm trying to throw you homo sapiens off the trail. Hm, an interesting thought, but one you can't prove.  Just remember, though, we come in peace.  Mwahahahahahahaha!

Laughing Aloud (and a Father's Day Thought)

I would like to beg your indulgence for a post that fits the frivolity part of this blog.  I've been far too contemplative and incredulous as of  late.  I'd like to share with you my five favorite comedy movies.  Now, this isn't a list of the supposed "best" comedies of all time, for I have no way of ascertaining the "best" comedies of all time.  I think it takes a lot of discernment or a lot of hubris to say one has the definitive list of best movies in any genre; there's way too much subjectivity involved to take those lists too seriously (though, I believe that Plan 9 from Outer Space by the clothing conflicted Ed Wood could possibly be the worst movie of ALL TIME).  You'll notice the absence of raunchy comedies from my list, as I find I'm a bit too prudish not to be overly uncomfortable while watching them (though The Hangover is probably in my top ten).  So, without further ado, my five favorite comedies:

5. The Blues Brothers

You have two iconic lead characters in"Joliet" Jake and Elwood Blues, great music and one of the best car chase scenes ever put on the big screen.  Oh, did I mention the movie is funny?  Ridiculously so.  Director John Landis and co-writer/star Dan Ackroyd took the Saturday Night Live music duo of Ackroyd and John Belushi as the Blues Brothers to the big screen for some big laughs.  The boys are on a mission from God and must face a nun named Sister Stigmata, pissed off rednecks, Neo-Nazis and a deranged Carrie Fisher wielding a bazooka.  What's not to like?  I believe it might have been the first "R" rated movie my parents let me see.  And I had the sound track!  (Wish I still did.)

4. Napoleon Dynamite

Some of my friends can't understand why I love this movie so much.  In truth, I don't know if I can explain it.  In the opening scene you see Napoleon Dynamite standing at the curb waiting for the school bus.  At the sight of Napoleon I burst out laughing, and I was the only one in the theater doing so.  That's when I knew I was a complete fool for this movie.  I've somehow managed to memorize several lines from the movie and have, on occasion, acted out parts of the movie while in the company of other Napoleon lovers.  If I were to think about it I believe I could get embarrassed, but fortunately I don't.  I still laugh myself  to tears when Napoleon is electrocuted by the "time machine" and breathlessly exclaims over and over, "Oh, my pack, my pack."  Love him or hate him, Napoleon Dynamite is a character not to be forgotten.  If you'd like to see an unabashed dweeb's dance right all the wrongs in the world, Napoleon is your man.

3. Best In Show

Best In Show is Christopher Guest at his best.  It's a mockumentary about five contestants and their "families" of a prestigious dog show.  The movie acts like a documentary as it follows each dog and their owners as they make their way to the show.  It has an ensemble cast that have been together for many of Guest's movies, each of which are simply riotous on-screen.  The first time I saw Christopher Guest was in Rob Reiner's This Is Spinal Tap, which my son swears is Guest's best movie.  I would put This Is Spinal Tap in my top ten, but alas, I'm only doing five.  I fell in love with Catherine O'Hara, despite the fact she seemingly slept with every guy in the movie.  And I still try to remember all the nuts Guest's character memorized.

2. Raising Arizona

The Coen Brother's Raising Arizona nearly made it to number one.  Can you think of a better role Nicolas Cage has played?  I can't.  Has Holly Hunter ever been funnier?  Not in my humble opinion.  And the Coen Brothers seem to get the best out of John Goodman, no matter what the role is.  When an ex-con and his "infertile" police officer wife decide to help themselves to one of the famous "Arizona Quints", you're in for a wacky romp through the unique comedic ramblings of the Coen psyche.  I think these guys are comedic geniuses, along  with other movies like, The Big Lebowski and Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, both of which are top ten's for me.  Their use of pathos in Raising Arizona simply sucks you in to the plight of  H.I. and Edwina, despite the fact they stole a baby!  I think the character Leonard Smalls is one of the most awesome looking bad guys on the big screen; riding his Harley, decked out in grimy leather, sporting twin sawed off shotguns and filthy baby booties dangling from his belt.  Simply awesome!  Oh, and the movie is as well.

1. The Pink Panther Strikes Again
This is the fifth installment of the Pink Panther franchise.  Peter Sellers created one of the greatest movie characters of all time with his role as Chief Inspector Clouseau.  With slapstick lunacy and Seller's nearly non-discernible accent, this one's a laugh a minute.

Now, you might be thinking, "Wait a minute, with all the great comedies to choose from, this one seems an odd choice."  Remember, I said these were my favorites, and I have a reason for this one being my favorite.  It's because it was my dad's favorite.  You see, my dad had the absolute loudest, most jovial laugh of any human being I've ever been around.  When we would watch this movie (which we did often), this thunderous cacophony of jocularity would burst forth from him and would seem to shake the house!  When he laughed you laughed right along with him; it was that infectious.  When he wanted to laugh he would watch this movie.  When I want to remember my dad I watch this movie.  When I laugh at this movie I remember his laugh, and I laugh all the more for it.  With Father's Day coming up this Sunday, I like the idea of remembering his laugh.  And that is why The Pink Panther Strikes Again takes the top of my list.

OK, so this post wasn't as frivolous as I let on.  It is about comedies, just with a little father memorial thrown in for good measure.  Hey, I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of pathos myself.  Yet, all these movies are hilarious and worthy of your voluminous laughter.  If you would like to share your favorite, go right a head, I always enjoy a good comedy and look for ones I haven't seen.  And to you dads; Happy Father's Day, even if you don't deserve it (and you know if you don't!).  Enjoy!

Sunday Morning Mulling, June 13, 2010: god is not Great

The Bible says of itself in Hebrews 4:12;

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

After reading , god is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, I will have to assume it’s author, Christopher Hitchens, and his book, are like a katana eviscerating the very concept of religion for atheists.  The goal of the book isn’t to proselytize for atheism as much as to remove any consideration that there is any viability or warrant for religion at all.  As Mr. Hitchens says in his sub-title, he believes religion poisons everything, and he lays out his case with scathing wit and aplomb.  It’s an intense read as he challenges the conventions of religious belief and deftly makes his case, and to one as myself that is searching for answers to the question of religion he makes some cogent points.

Since I’ve embarked on the journey to evaluate my religious beliefs, I’ve made it a point to read books like Mr. Hitchens’ in order to have a complete understanding of both sides of the issue.  The question for me is whether or not Christianity is true. The process thus far has led me to no longer believe in the fundamentalist Christianity I found myself immersed in for several years and now to consider the more moderate forms of Christian belief, what fundamentalist would call being “liberal” (of which the mere thought of will lead to one’s apostasy).  Although Mr. Hitchens leaves room for tolerance in his book, he certainly does not encourage even a liberal consideration of religion.  And I wonder if I even can migrate to a more moderate form of faith, because the presuppositions of Christianity don’t change, nor do the epistemic and ontological reasons for religion.  In truth, it’s a tough issue for me when, in my gut, I know it shouldn’t be.  (For a somewhat cryptic look at my struggle with being a person of faith, read; Sunday Morning Mulling, May 2, 2010: Faith pt. 2)  This book makes the matter even harder.

In the final chapter of the book , Mr. Hitchens writes,

“Of course, it is better and healthier for the mind to ‘choose’ the path of skepticism and inquiry in any case, because only by continual exercise of these faculties can we hope to achieve anything…To ‘choose’ dogma and faith over doubt and experiment is to throw out the ripening vintage and to reach greedily for the Kool-aid.”

This rings true to me.  We should never allow personal convictions and beliefs to stymie inquiry and exploration.  It’s because we question and contemplate and investigate that our lives are made richer and more fulfilling.  In my religious experience I’ve many times done the exact opposite.  I’ve reached for too often for the Kool-aid.  Thankfully, through resources like Mr. Hitchen’s god is not Great, I'm starting to  taste of the ripening vintage.

The Mario Party

All I wanted was the Mario party. I call the final cinematic cut scene of a Nintendo Mario game the Mario Party.  After you've finished every stage of the game and vanquished Bowser and have been reunited with Princess Peach, Shigura Miyamoto (Mario's creator) has a final cut scene to show how all's right with the world because of your efforts.  At least their has been since Nintendo 64, in the games that I've played.  So, to get ready for the new Super Mario Galaxy 2, I had to finish the first game, Super Mario Galaxy.  To complete the game you have to gain 120 stars, and as of a month ago I had 95.  I figured I'd finish it in short order, but boy was I ever wrong!

You might wonder why a 41 year old dude (soon to be 42, so thanks for your early birthday wishes) would play video games.  I've actually addressed that very subject in an earlier post, Still in the Game...Sort Of... (and in case you read that one, no I haven't completed the Pit Of 100 Trials, and it galls me!) 

I ran into a sticking point in the game, not because it was necessarily hard, but because I suck at video games in general.  In order to get the last star before the finale, I must have died over 100 times!.  Below is a video of some ridiculously good gaming geek besting the very level that bested me for so long.



Now, you might ask why does a 41 year old, soon to be 42 year old, play cartoon games like Nintendo's Mario games.  I actually have a good reason for that; the XBox 360 is broken.  Also, when I play games like Call of Duty, Modern Warfare I get sick.  It's something similar to motion sickness, which I have a slight problem with (I've "chummed" the water on the last two deep sea fishing outings I've been on).  I barely survived Dead Space Extraction, which is a rails-on, first person shooter.  Fortunately, I was able to finish Dead Space Extraction in eight playing hours, which mitigated the ill effect.  I wrote about how Dead Space Extraction reminded me of the Church of Scientology in, Fun With Scientologists.  If you read that one, I have to tell you it's a true story.

So, last night I devoted three long, arduous hours to finishing the game.  I only needed one more star and then the finale.  I thought I was going to throw the TV and Nintendo out of the house!  But I persevered.  As I played, and yelled, and threw things, everyone in the house slowly migrated away to different rooms.  I was all alone when I finally got the elusive star.  I bested the finale by pounding Bowser in short order.  Then came the Mario party, and I felt so relieved!  It was over!  But, the sad part was, nobody was there to share the party with me.  I'd run everybody off. 

Oh well, it was over.  I could move on the something less aggravating and more conducive to "family time".  But, Mr. Miyamoto threw in a twist; after gaining all 120 stars and having your Mario party, you're rewarded with being able to collect all 120 stars as Mario's brother Luigi.  Dang!  I'm already five stars in.

A Minor Epiphany

Just a small revelation, a minor epiphany, about blogging.  After viewing the Pres. Obama blurb this morning where he states he's looking for  "ass to kick" over the BP oil spill, I'd spent all day mulling over the political hot water he's in, comparing that to Pres. Bush's Hurricane Katrina political fallout, and outlined a post.  I wrote it quickly, edited it for the usual errors I populate the my blog with, and published it.  Then immediately, I had blogger's remorse.  It's not the first time I've regretted a posting (sometimes I think they suck), but the feeling this time was strong enough to reconsider even leaving it up.

 I'd done a considerable amount of research, culled it down to what I felt were the salient points and added some pictures and the Obama video. I then threw in a little of my political cynicism, and hit the publish button.  Feeling somewhat uneasy with the post, I sat down to some lasagna and the news.  The news was dominated by the Gulf oil spill and the political ramifications for Pres. Obama.  I couldn't help but notice that every point I'd made in my post was made by the anchors and political pundits, but with professionalism and comprehensibility (and I can be quite incomprehensible at times).  In essence, my post was an inferior news article, with some crappy commentary thrown in.  There are probably a billion Internet sites where you could get the very same information I provided, along with some crappy commentary.  After that realization, I deleted the post.

So, here's the thing.  I thought about why I read the blogs I read.  I don't read them to get the news regurgitated to me, I read them because I'm truly interested in the person who's writing it.  Something about the writer made me want to get to know them more.  I'm interested in their thoughts and their experiences.  I want the dialogue that comes about as we interact.  A blogger invests a bit of themselves into their writing, and that's what draws me, and I'm sure others, to read blogs. 

So, why would I waste my time pumping out information you can get on a news site?  Well, I decided not to.  I figure if you're reading this blog you ain't doin' it for news (and that's a good thing).  Instead, I'll mull on about those things that interest me, and things I find incredulous and funny.  Perhaps you'll read, too.  I'm sure we'll continue to get to know each other a little better, too.

With that said I'd like to reiterate, I still think politicians are scumbags.  Just sayin'.

Sunday Morning Mulling, June 6, 2010: I Have This Gay Friend...

I've recently read a post from a friend that talked about his coming to terms with homosexuality in his family and how it personally affected him.  It was an honest assessment of his attitude toward homosexuality, one that prompted me to do the same.  As a recovering evangelical there is a lot of baggage that comes with the issue of homosexuality, so unpacking it took some effort.  My attitude and actions reflected the fundamental and legalistic requirements of the Southern Baptist Church I used to attend, which now in hindsight I would call that doctrine bigoted at the very least and potentially dangerous within the most extreme radicals, Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church a prime example ( I don't want to suggest that the members of my former church were bigoted, just that the doctrinal beliefs espoused about homosexuality could certainly foment bigotry). Though I never shared Phelp's hatred for gays and lesbians (nor do I personally know anyone with that kind of hate), I would have to admit that I peddled the Biblical dogma standard among many evangelical Christians today, even though I never could fully accept it intellectually.  But, when among your peers, you tend to toe the line, and I did, much to my regret.

Several years ago I developed a friendship with a fellow I worked with.  He was a breath of fresh air.  He stirred clear the of usual male banter; sex, sports, more sex, vehicles, even more sex.  We had conversations about art, music, travel, food.  He introduced me to the music of Rachmaninoff and Debussy, and singer Renée Fleming.  He'd take month long vacations to Europe and  regale me with the stories of his travels when he got back, always with pictures to illustrate.  We would discuss just about anything.  He was always interesting and engaging, and for some reason liked my company.  He is also gay.

I remember a time he was particularly agitated.  I could tell he wanted to talk, but he also seemed  to be reluctant.  When he finally did open up I understood his apprehension. The voters of California had voted in a constitutional amendment banning marriage for gays and lesbians.  His partner was in the United States on an education visa.  Without it he'd be deported.  Gay marriage was an opportunity to ensure his partner would stay in the US.  He wanted to talk, to vent his frustrations, but he knew I was an evangelical Christian and didn't share his views.  My heart sank because I was torn by the anguish he was feeling and the fact that my religious convictions would only make it worse.  I tried to share the least offensive evangelical platitudes floating around at the time used to argue against gay marriage, like he could acquire the the legal documentation to take care of inheritance or hospital visitation issues.  Also, I mentioned the institution of marriage was legally protected to provide a safe, healthy environment for children, by heterosexuals.  In my effort to be unoffensive I had, in essence, called him a radical activist that couldn't be trusted with children.  It's amazing we stayed friends.

Now that I've moderated my views and realize that fundamental Christian doctrine does not fully reflect Biblical teaching about homosexuality, I look back at that incident with horror.  Somehow I'd allowed religious conviction to blind me to the pain that another person, one no less than my friend, was experiencing.  I had relegated his feelings, his love, his pain to below those of a heterosexuals.  And though it made me sick to my stomach to propagate doctrine that I felt could be in error, I couldn't work past the control of my religious belief.  Control is the best way to characterize it, too.  Human sexuality seems to be the easiest behavior to stigmatize and use to convict someone of sinfulness.  Just an impure sexual thought is all it takes to convict the saint of sin.  It's through fear of sin and it's punishment, eternal damnation and agony, that religious institutions control the flock, sex being the easiest control mechanism, and homosexuality being the most vile of sexual indiscretions.  I have to admit that I permitted that same irrational fear to control my actions, and in this case, to hurt a friend.

I don't see my friend as often as I used to because I've moved to a different office.  When I do see him, we're friendly and I get the impression we could easily slip back into a comfortable relationship like before.  I haven't had the guts to tell him that I've changed and don't hold those same views that so long ago hurt him, and that I'm sorry.  I need to.  For now, I feel good knowing that we could have that conversation.  In fact, I'd like to have that earlier conversation on gay marriage over again, now that the ingrained fear of fundamentalism no longer controls my thoughts.  Things would be different.

If you would like to read the post that inspired this one, click here.

In Answer to a Question

It was a pleasant Memorial Day.  I edited and published a Memorial Day post first thing in the morning, then lazed around until after noon and fired up the grill.  After I burned some hot dogs, the family sat down and trimmed out the meal with cold watermelon, sweet tea and finished it off with Dutch apple pie, a la mode.  Americana at it’s finest.  As we ate my daughter asked us what was the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day, to which my wife and I stumbled over each other as we tried to explain simultaneously.    Somehow we managed to get it across cogently enough for her to understand.  Ironically, sitting by the TV was a Netflix envelope with the answer to her question.  The movie was Taking Chance, based on true events, in which Lt. Col. Michael Strobl, played by Kevin Bacon, escorts the body of fallen soldier PFC Chance Phelps back to his hometown.  The Netflix envelope lay unopened for a couple weeks prior and I couldn't even remember what the movie was about, and it went unwatched until last night.  I’m glad I finally did.

The American war movie has undergone quite an evolution in Hollywood’s relatively short history, with the propaganda films of World War II and Korea, followed by the anti-war pictures of the Vietnam era, to the humanizing an often apolitical films of the last decade or so.  With films like Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan, Clint Eastwood’s complementary films Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima, and Kathryn Bigelow’s amazing film, The Hurt Locker,  we see the focus not on ideology, but on the men and women who fight and serve and die in our armed services, and putting before the viewer the human face of those who serve.  Taking Chance took that sentiment one step further and compelled the viewer to experience the posthumous impact that our fallen men and women can, and should, have on us today.

The movie takes you through the journey that our fallen heroes’ take to their final resting place.  From the reverence and respect shown by the military to the body, to the impact upon people as they realized the precious cargo on it’s route, I found myself fighting back tears throughout the movie.  I couldn’t help but reflect on my own time spent in the military and the brash bravado I had about my service during the Gulf War.  Though I never made it to the war theater, I was eager to apply my training and contribute to the effort.  Then, I would have died fighting for a cause greater than myself, now, twenty years later, I’m thankful for each precious moment of life I’ve had.  It’s a dichotomy one can experience only after the passage of time, one many of our fallen soldiers will never get to contemplate.  PFC Phelps died at the age of nineteen, never to experience the things so many of us take for granted. 

Much of the movie depicted the impact of Phelp’s body and his escort, Lt. Col. Strobl, had on those they encountered.  Whether overly dramatized or not, it was moving to see people stop as the body was moved from a cargo hold or hearse.  During the scene of the last leg of the journey to Phelps’ hometown, one by one, vehicles are shown passing Phelps’ hearse.  My wife looked up from her computer and remarked that the movie seemed slow a that point.  What see wasn’t seeing was, as each vehicle pasted, they turned on their headlights in respect upon seeing the flag draped coffin in the hearse.  This went on until there was, in essence, a funeral procession preceding Phelps to his final destination.  I pointed out the headlights, and she got it.  Thankfully, she didn’t see the tears welling in my eyes.

It’s true, I’m overly sentimental when it comes to our brave men and women fighting for our country.  I truly lament each death.  And as I get older, Memorial Day becomes more important to me.  I wish we could have watched Taking Chance on Memorial Day, it would have done a much better job answering my daughter’s question than her mom an I did.  Still, I did watch it and was, and still am, moved by it.  I’d recommend giving it a view yourself, and if you have kids, set them down, too. It’ll help them understand what Memorial Day is about.

Horns -and Picket Signs- High

I can still remember the first time I heard Ronnie James Dio sing.  It was the song Rainbow in the Dark, with its thundering and unforgettable opening riff and Dio wailing and growling, imparting a sense of foreboding and despair, all with impeccable vibrato, and Vivian Campbell blowing me away with a guitar lead that cut like razorblades.  Dio's vocals seemed bigger than life, and I was drawn into the song, longing to hear more.  To the metal music fan, Ronnie James Dio set the standard for all other vocalist to aspire to.  His music was full of magic, mystery  and monsters, and was  imparted to the listener with beauty and soul, and when called for, with brutality.

On May 16th, he lost his battle with stomach cancer, leaving behind his wife and son, and a musical legacy like no other.  His legacy also includes two charitable organizations; Children of the Night, dedicated to rescuing children from prostitution, and Stand Up and Shout, raising money for cancer research.  A titan in metal and in life, he will be missed.  Horns High.

A public memorial service was held for Dio May 30th. Attending were Dio's family, friends, fans, and sadly, picketers from the Westboro Baptist Church.  Westboro Baptist Church is a cult like, hate mongering pseudo Christian church that crusades to spread the hate filled idiocy of it's leader, Fred Phelps.  They are the group that picket the funerals of our fallen heroes that have lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan, because they say the US government supports and encourages homosexuality.  If you are trying to figure the correlation between a person's sexuality and our military at war, don't, they can't explain it either.  Phelp's church, primarily populated by his extended family, seem to be on a crusade to impose a demented morality on America, and the homosexual community is their main target.  They carry signs while picketing that say, God Hates Fags and God Hates Fag Enablers, along with God Hates America and several different ones that tell a variety of people they will burn in hell.  I would recommend watching the documentary, Fall From Grace, that reveals the hate and bigotry of Phelps group, along with the evil child abuse this group perpetrates.  It's eye opening.

It would seem Dio was on their radar screen as well.  He was considered by Phelps and his minions to be a Satanist, presumably because Dio is credited with coming up with the "devil horns" sign.  If one was to extend their fore finger and small (pinky) finger, then hold down the two middle fingers with your thumb, you will have the terribly heinous devil horns popular in metal music.  Dio also wrote about magic and wizardry,  monsters and demons.  For this, Westboro picketed his memorial, claiming Dio to be a worshiper of the dark prince.  And though Dio has answered no to the insipid question about worshiping Satan in the past, there are still a few ludicrous twits that can't let go of it, namely Westboro Baptist Church.  Fortunately, there were few picketers, along with an equal number of counter-picketers, and did not interfere with the tribute at all.

What can you say?  I could easily turn this one into a Sunday Morning Mulling, but will refrain.  Yet, this kind of hatred needs to be repulsed by decent people everywhere.  Dio certainly didn't deserve their disdain.  And the black eye to the Christian community is equally unwarranted.  Does religion, with its many facets, harbor bigotry and hatred?  You only have to look to the radical Muslims our brave men and women of the Armed forces battle everyday to get that answer.  It's ironic Phelp's free speech is protected by the very one's he protests.  Ironically, those same warriors battle fundamental and systemic hatred, similar to Phelps' own, in the Middle East.  It makes one think to heed those words sung by the great Ronnie James Dio, stand up and shout.  Indeed.