The Voices in Frank's Head

For quite sometime now, I've ranted and raved about the blatant stupidity of various politicians. Now, I guess it's time for me to turn my angst on the private sector. The State of Michigan requires insurance agents like me to earn 30 credit hours of Continuing Education every 2 years in order to keep an insurance license. (Yes, I've always thought 30 hours of CE was a dumb idea -- but that's another post). My deadline for earning those credit hours was June 1, 2004. I finished earning them on May 15, 2004 through a private company -- eMind.com. One would think that this was the end of it, right? Wrong. I got my certificates in the mail, showing that I earned 30 credit hours. I assumed that this meant that everything was hunky dory and went on about my life. Selling insurance by day. Trying to put together funding for a film and public access TV show by night. Then I got surprise. In the mail, shows up a notice from Michigan's Office of Fi

Okay -- my Dad is still in the ICU. I'm still depressed and basically convinced that life is little more than a hopeless, series of existence until one day we get lucky and die. But I'll get over it. The way I always do. By ranting about stupid politicians. The latest thing to piss me off is the Michigan Broadband Development Authority. Turns out that when you live in some of Michigan's more remote areas, there's is a limited number of providers for broadband access. Some people in northern Oakland County, for example, only have standard dial-up and satelitte based broadband access. The standard DSL and cable providers aren't interested in them because the number of potential users per mile of cable is too low to make it economically viable. Those poor bastards. They made a decision to live in an area where there's not a lot of Wi-Fi access to the internet. And now they have to actually live with the consequences of their decision. What

Argh! I feel like a zombie. I've been this way ever since my Dad went into the ICU. I don't know. We've never gotten along in that "Leave it to Beaver" sort of a way, but still -- the fact is that when I was growing up, he's the guy that I looked to for some sort strength and guidance. And now to see him, not even able to breath on his own. Needing a ventilator. Heavily medicated so he doesn't try to pull any of his tubes out. (He's always been a stubborn bastard). I guess the worst part of it is the constant sense of wondering when the next shoe is going to fall. First, he's going in for a doctor's appointment. Then he's in the hospital. Then he's in ICU. Then he can't breathe on his own. Then he's in emergency surgery because there's no circulation to his leg. Now there's another round of surgery this week and the possibility that he may have to spend the rest of his life in a nursing home. No