I suppose it could have something to do with a minor case of home-sickness and the fact that we're going to Indiana a sábado. But really, weird things have been happening back in the good old town of Muncie.

First off, the biggest news of the day: the orchestra teacher I had my senior year, Mr. Huxhold, was arrested for the possession of both child pornography and marijuana. At first, the article stub just said he had child porn, which is gross and awful but I found it funny because he was kind of dirty and creepy.

Then, there was the second edition, as linked above. What's most disturbing is the possibility mentioned in this edition that he could be one of the "stars" of these films, and the old orchestra room could be the location. Add that to the fact that he worked with kids from first grade through high school... and that's just fucked. Beyond that, he was a sleaze ball who wore his button-up shirts like Hasselhoff (complete with an obscenely large chest-fro) and he just made everyone around him feel dirty.

This whole ordeal was not terribly surprising for me to hear (he always gave me the creeps) but still sickening. Child molesters and sexual abusers deserve their special place in hell, and they're one of the few types of criminals for whom I don't mind execution. Everyone else can rot in prison just in case of reasonable doubt or religious conversion or whatever. Child molesters deserve the horrors of being a child molester the prison's general population for a while, then to be shot.

And just to set the record straight: no, he never made a move on me or even touched me at all that I remember. He did send me to the office when I made fun of him for voting for Ronald Reagan. Actually, he sent me to the office a lot of times because the way I dealt with his creepyness was the standard insubordination of a high school jerk. Once, I even called him Hasselhoff.

Enough about that creep!

The other, more shocking (believe it or not) news of the day: apparently my parents are moving. Yes, MY parents, the least wealthy upper-middle-class people (because of poor money handling skills) in the world, are moving. After 21 (yes, 21) years in their old homestead on Petty Road, they're moving to a different house, which is further in-town, nicer, a smaller yard (with a pool) and generally has more usable space. They need a change of scenery in the housing regard, they need to unload some of their junk (21 years can accumulate a lot when you're pack-rats like my parents), and they need to hit bottom. All I'm going to say is that their old house got away from them a bit, and now they get to start over.

This makes me extraordinarily happy for them. Now, they're going to have the house they deserve. Whenever I dream of winning the lottery or whatever, I always think about getting them a new house to replace their old dump. They're finally doing that for themselves, and I couldn't be happier.

Of course, my mom was telling me tonight how she'd counted that she had helped me move eight times (it was actually nine) and how I should be helping them move this time. Of course, they're not ready yet. I'm thinking that they won't even be close until August or so... but we'll see. If that's the case, maybe they can pay for me (gas, food, etc) to come help for a few days.

God knows I can't afford to go on my own.A Day of Muncie in Akron