Friday, September 23, 2005

In Print...

I am in a class that instructs me on how to correctly write news articles. My teacher's main complaint is that I use my broadcast backgound to direct my writing style. Reguardless, apparently someone at the Ke Alaka'i decided my story was good enough to be in print.

Ke Alakai cover
Ke Alakai atricle close

You cannot read my article off of the poor quality pic, so if you are intrigued you may read on. Some of the article was changed slightly but it appears as I would have liked it below.

Darrin Jaggi winced as he screwed the gas cap back on his car at the Laie Chevron. It was not the stare of the hot Hawaiian sun that caused it. It was the sight of this total cost for a full tank.

Jaggi, a senior majoring in information systems, has noticed the price of gasoline going up steadily since he came here from Washington state three years ago. He is not the only one who has notice the price of gas skyrocketing.

Four weeks ago Hawaii’s Public Utilities Commission (PUC) embarked on the states first price cap of wholesale gasoline prices. According to the Honolulu Star Bulletin, three markets, Los Angeles, New York, and the U.S. Gulf coast are used as guidelines for the weekly price.

The first week saw a maximum price of $2.16 per gallon for regular on Oahu. Since the disaster of hurricane Katrina in the U.S. Gulf, the price cap has raised more than 60 cents per gallon.

Many have been disappointed that the cap has not brought the price of gasoline down – those that knew about it.

Ninety percent of BYU-Hawaii students who were asked about this new price cap were surprised by the news. "I have yet to notice any change…except the prices keep getting higher," exclaimed Carolyn Pack, a senior from Utah majoring in accounting.

Rose Tafua, an employee at Laie’s Chevron, said, "This is getting ridiculous. People are bringing those big red gas cans and filling up – over $100 at a time."

When asked if she noticed whether or not this behavior was due to the gas cap, she stated; "Absolutely. This cap has only raised the price. It’s hurting everybody. Even people like me that work here can’t afford gas anymore. They shouldn’t have messed with the price."

BYU-H students are deciding not to travel around the island as much due to the pinch at the pump. "I don’t go to Costco as often," admits Jaggi. "It has become a lot cheaper to shop locally rather than going to town where the prices are lower." Tafua at Chevron expressed the same thought.

The price of gasoline does not only affect the students with cars. Students like Jaggi, feel that they cannot afford to be as generous as they used to be. "I used to not have any problems taking people to town out of the goodness of my heart for free. But now I have to insist on compensation for gas."

The price for The Bus has not been raised in more than a year despite the rise in gas prices. Glen Moir, a transportation planner for the city of Honolulu, told the Ke Alaka’i that a rise in the price of gas was not in the near future. "If there is a change there would have to be hearing and the whole bit. Even if it’s likely, it won’t happen very fast. It’s not something that will happen next week."

Moir did, however, admit that it is possible in coming months.

Darren Jaggi is just one of the nearly two million people in Hawaii who eagerly await a gas bill that does not steadily climb every week. "If it keeps going up I’m just going to have to use my car less and less. I can hardly afford to pay for gas as it is."

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie...

The cheapest and most desperate form of humanity on earth is a college student promised free stuff.

Today I was walking to my class when I was stopped by a table with signs offering free iPods. Like all other college students I stopped, inquired, filled out their survey and hoped to win.

I have class from 11 AM to 2 PM so I must eat lunch early - usually on the way to class. I had a few bagel bites on a plate next to me. The next thing I know some person places their hand over my food. Then this person says, "I'm taking this. It's mine now."

I had assumed that this was a friend of mine. I ignored it. But then the hand actually took the food. Still thinking it was a rather bold friend of mine I turned around saying, "A-hem. Can I help you?"

Just as I turned on my heels and finished my sentence I realized that it was someone I had never seen before. Staring back at me was a shocked Asian gal. She realized just then that she had been mistaken in assuming it was free food for the taking. Needless to say, she was embarrassed. She had picked up my bagel bite by firmly implanting her thumb into the cheese melted on the top. She decided placing it back was the best route. I explained to her that the last thing I wanted was to eat it. It was hers now.

It was my fault. If I had truly prized my food I should have guarded it like a mother hawk. On this campus, you must. Only moments later I heard other girls inquiring about the free pizza.

Other companies know that the students on a college campus will do anything for free stuff. Last year a bank wanted to have more of us go into their debt via credit cards. They had a table set up by the much applauded caf offering free t-shirts. The shirts were merely standard gray with the words "College" printed on it. That's it. Nothing else. Why would I want a shirt that advertises which tax bracket I fall in? I was thinking of getting a free wash rag, but I would have had to apply for a card to get it. I declined.

Over the following weeks I saw many of these cheap shirts wondering around. I think I should have a credit card company and do the same thing. The ones you get at high schools say, "High School." The ones at offices say, "White color laborer." The ones they offer at NASCAR races would likely say, "Redneck". At WNBA: "Feminists Lesbian". And of course, at radio stations: "Welfare recipient".

Lastly, the ones you get from my website/blog would read, "No life". Anybody want one?

Friday, September 16, 2005


Is it just me, or are we a very stupid and easily beguiled society? I've often thought that people don't know it when they are. Ugly people know that they are ugly. Fat people know that they are fat (even if they do insist on wearing bikinis). But stupid people...they must be too stupid to know that they are stupid.

Think about it. Have you ever met someone who was not literally mentally retarded that didn't think they were at least of par or superior intelligence to everybody else?

One thing that makes you question the intelligence of our soceity is the existence of chain e-mail. Just today I got yet another one. This one fell into my inbox just in time to be be sorted into my recycle bin.

Dear Friends,

A pornographic movie is being shot and is intended
to show up in America soon, which shows Jesus and his disciples as
homosexuals!!! The same way as a play that has been in the theater halls for a

It's called Corpus Christi" which means "The Body
of Christ". It is a revolting joke of our Lord. But we can make
difference, that's why I'm sending this e-mail to all of you. Could you, please,
add your name to this e-mail's list's end?

If you do so, together we may be able to ban this
movie form being shown in America. Apparently, some regions from Europe have
banned the movie already.

All we need is a lot of signatures!!!

Remember, Jesus said: "That who deny me before
men, I will also deny him before my Father which is in heaven."

Please, do not simply forward!!! Please, select
all text, copy this message (CTRL+C), paste (CTRL+V) in a new message and then add your name at the end of the list, plus send to all your contacts. When the
signatures get to 500 names (who is list's 500), please send them to:


"Hey, I made up a scam that will get me hundreds of names and e-mail addresses. I will take this information and use it for sending spam and selling your information to other spammers.

I have no life and this kind of time waster fulfills my life. The more people that are duped by this make me feel like a bigger man. Please send this email on to everybody you know so I can feel like I have a claim to fame. Also, by sending this, you are proving that you are stupid thus making me smarter by comparison."

I took one look at that and decided that I didn't want to get involved. Half a day later another person in the long list of people that got that email replied to all with two links: and

To be fair, I have had my stupid and gullible moments. My very last day at the radio station in Phoenix I fell sucker to a con man.

He called when I was very busy and didn't have time to even think about what I was doing. He claimed to be someone who I knew that worked there. I asked him why he didn't sound like himself. He said it was because he had just gotten up. It was early, I was busy, I accepted it. He asked to speak with the host during the next break but the host was on remote at a nearby Wal-Mart. So, long story short, he got the hosts cell phone number from me.

It just so happened that later I had to call the person that I thought I was talking to earlier. There was no answer so I left a message and asked him to call me back. A few minutes later the con man called me back. I assumed it was the right guy calling me about my message. This time he got yet another number from me. I was starting to get wise to him just as it was too late. Ya, I felt really stupid for falling for it. He never called back because he knew that I found him out. I felt bad, I appologized. But it was too late.

Fortunatly, it was just some guy with no life intending on playing some prank calls. It just goes to show that everybody is susceptible to fraud. Or it shows you that I am pretty stupid like everybody else. Or maybe that we all are stupid in some way...Well, I don't really know what it shows you. But it's sad that in today's society we just can't trust anybody. It's been my sad experience that once we do, we get duped.

Are we stupid or are we trusting to a fault?

Makes you miss Mayberry, dosen't it?

Friday, September 09, 2005

My Lingering Manhood...

"I have never yet seen anyone whose desire to build up his moral power was as strong as sexual desire."
- Confucius The Analects (Chapter IX, verse 17)

I can't escape the gender issues that surround me. You already know about the gender class I have. Even in my class on Asian studies Confucius takes a stab at men. I had some fun today carrying around a bag that most men wouldn't be caught dead with:
Feminine Shopping Bag

Most people only raised an eyebrow or snuck in a second look. Those who knew me well enough commented on "how masculine [I] seem today." I must be coming along well. When I was a child I refused to even drink out of a pink cup at dinner. Still I do have some very man-ish things that I hold dear and won't let go of. For example, I found a list of rules from guys for girls that I have to admit I support. Yes, it's technically plagiarized, but in this day of e-mail lists and other unwanted crap in our inboxes I feel safe enough to take credit for this.

Here are the rules from our side of the looking glass:
  • Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down all the time!

  • Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
    (I admit I don't care for Sunday sports, but I support the right for men to have them.)

  • Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

  • Crying is blackmail.

  • Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
    Subtle hints do not work!
    Strong hints do not work!
    Obvious hints do not work!
    Just say it!
    (If only the girls of the world could read this...)

  • "Yes" and "No" are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

  • Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

  • A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.

  • Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

  • If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

  • If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.
    (Or skinny, as the case may be...)

  • You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

  • Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

  • Christopher Columbus did not need directions and neither do we.

  • ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is and we like it that way.

  • If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

  • If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing" we will act like nothing's wrong.
    We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

  • If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

  • When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.

  • Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, guns, supermodels or monster trucks.

  • You have enough clothes.

  • You have too many shoes.

  • I am in shape. Round is a shape.

  • And my favorite:

  • If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
    (I need to tattoo that on my forehead!)

I may not win any awards for sympathy or compassion, but I vehemently support these rights/rules of men. I may be getting "womanized" but some things have their roots too deep to be uprooted by a liberal P.C. education.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to pick up some more scrapbook supplies before Dr. Phil starts...

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Ward Shopping...

As you know, I have recently found a place to live off of campus. The freedom that comes with off campus housing is nothing short of astounding. One of my new freedoms is choice of wards to attend. This is likely the only time in my life when I will have such liberty to shop for the right ward for me. We are asked to attend the ward in our boundaries and nothing else by the leaders of the church. Even if I didn’t want to obey that and I was to live on Lanai, for example, I'd have to either swim 50 miles every Sunday or just stick with my assigned branch. For the last two years in a row my ward has started at 8am. I made a solemn vow to NEVER let that happen to me again. I first went to the ward that I am technically assigned to, BYU-H 4th ward, which starts at the moderate time of 10am. It seemed nice and friendly. I recognized the faces and most importantly, the abundance of cuter girls seemed to be sitting alone.

After that I went to the local singles ward, Laie 10th. I got in the door right when it started, 2pm. You'd think that most of the locals could pry the bed off of their back by then. The opening hymn had started but it took me and my friends a second to realize it because no one was singing. Well, I take that back, the nice lady conducting was singing. The other dozen or so people in the chapel were as stone silent as gargoyles. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder and leads me to the front to help pass the sacrament. They didn't ask me if I wanted to. They didn't ask if I worthy. They didn't even ask if I was a member of the church. It's a good thing I was because it appeared as if I had no choice.

One interesting quirk of every ward is how they choreograph the ballet of sacrament distribution. This ward prefers a comedy of errors. I got the firm impression that I was not the only guest passer pulled in from the audience. While the other baker's dozen got to reflect on the meaning of the sacrament and sing praise us men in white shirts in the corner looked like the six stooges planning mischief. The Moe of the group could have just told me to serve the left side of the middle isle, but instead he drew a diagram with a number and color system which helped to thoroughly confuse all. In the end, I suppose everyone but us got the most of the sacrament.

Once it was announced that we had finished the sacrament the bishop repeated the verbatim ordnance of releasing us, "We thank the brethren for the reverent and organized manner of the passing of the sacrament." I believe he has to check the priests at the sacrament table to make sure he says it right or he has to start over.

That was also the cue for the rest of the ward to start filling in from the wings. Whether they can't bring themselves to wake up before 2pm or they don't want to admit that they can't take the sacrament I don't know. For what every reason the room was actually nearly full after all of the stragglers came shuffling in. I had to crawl over the laps of complete strangers to get back to my scriptures.

It was fast Sunday so the bishop said a few words and left the stand open...and open it was. After a few minutes a brave soul stood up. A few minutes later a fresh RM stood up. I admit that I could have offered my thoughts but I tired and it was already my second sacrament meeting of the day. I also didn't wish to crawl over laps and feet of more strangers. When a member of the bishopric had to get up there to vamp it was clear that we would not be running over. It was one of the most sad open mic nights I've ever been to.

I did have a chance to look at the most important part of any celestial gathering – the single girls in attendance. Every girl that had not been beaten with the ugly stick was sitting so close to a guy it looked like they were seeking a heat source from his armpit. That was the final straw for me.

After sacrament I was not about to stick around for priesthood and Sunday school. I figured I had enough to comment on so far and it would take three posts just to get all of my unique observations off of my chest. For the same reason I decided not to check out the family ward that also covers my area.

In the end I decided that maybe the Lord has his reasons for telling us that it is best that we go to the ward that we are assigned to. I wish I didn't always need to learn things the hard way - like the time I thought that a computer monitor wouldn't hold enough electricity to shock you in a bath tub if it wasn't plugged in...that was a bad experience in Monitor Shopping...we'll have save that for another blog some day.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Sensitivity Training...

I have been painted as a very chauvinistic and self righteous individual through my blog. Granted, it has been a result of what I have said, and more so, what you have inferred me to mean. Well, scorn women of the world take heart. I am about to undergo some very tuff reeducation therapy. This semester I am taking Communications 280. That may not sound very impressive until you know that the subject is "Communication, Culture and Gender Studies". It's about 33% communication and culture and 66% or more gender.

My text book is Gender Speak. The first chapter reminds me that, "regardless of whether you personally embrace feminism, much of what you do and enjoy today is a result of actions of and advocacy by feminists... It is because of dedicated feminists that many of you are sitting in this classroom today." I wonder how balanced this course will be...

The scheduled readings include:
  • "Feminism"
  • "American manhood"
  • "The male myth"
  • "Evolution of ideals for women in Mormon periodicals"
  • "Molly Mormons, Mormon feminists and moderates"
    and my favorite
  • "Threatened manhood"

I have decided to really jump into this with both feet. I watched "The Price Is Right" last week and was inspired by Bob when he suggested that I, "spay or neuter my pet." I called my local pound right up and found out that I could get the same surgery for the same cost as long as I didn't mind only getting a local anesthetic and shaved myself. I also obtained a tampon from my friend Carolyn and plan on using it regularly. My teacher has promised me that if I buy the first season of "The Christopher Lowell Show" on DVD and denounce all men as selfish pigs I will get no lower than an "A-". If I become a hula kumu (hula dance teacher) or hair dresser I get an "A".

Any suggestions from you on how to ease into this transition of becoming a 21st century momma's boy?

Friday, September 02, 2005

Spam, Spam, Spam...

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, SPAM!!!
- Monty Python "Spam"

I'm sure you have noticed that sometimes a comment will show up on my blog pretending to compliment me and then containing a link to some site. Ya, that's right. Those darn spam folk have found a way to ruin blogs now.

I have had a very loose policy on keeping random comments on my blog. I read each and every one. I have never deleted a single comment regardless of how much I agree or disagree with it; until now. I have unceremoniously deleted the spam. I left the first two before I noticed it was genuine spam. I also left one more on my two year anniversary post so you can see what I was talking about. To help curb the automatic generation of these cheap plugs I have activated a process that makes you type back some letters that are placed on your screen. I apologize for the inconvenience and encourage you to still leave as much or more comments as usual.

*ascends to top of homemade soap box*

Do not support these spammers!!! Do not click on these links and boycott anything they talk about. Until the government makes it legal to kill spammers we just have to ignore them. The reason why we still have spammers is because it still works. They are making money so stop supporting them!

*steps off of soap box*

Thanks, that's all.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Three Doors Down...

It has been a long time since I have spoken to you. I have a good enough excuse though. I've been homeless. Ya, homeless. Really, it's not all that bad, but you do have a feeling of restlessness when you don't know where you next meal or pillow will be. It's a unique feeling. I recommend everyone tries it at least once in life. In fact, my whole week has been informative.

After coming close to passing out from exhaustion while packing I got a vital three hours of sleep before I left to the airport. Once at the airport I saw that someone had left one of those airport baggage carts right where I was dropped off. I thought it was a good omen. If the sidewalk was made of wood I could have knocked on it. I wish I had.

I get to check in my luggage and as usual I am over weight. I play a bit of a shuffle and stuff game until I finally make every barely copasetic. Then I inquire about my seat assignment. The bleach blonde said I had none.

"But I booked it online. I clicked on the little seat and everything."

"Ya, I'm sure you did. They are not guaranteed."

I walk to screening for my anal exam. I remove my shoes, my keys, my wallet, my watch, my walkman, my cell phone, my .22 pistol and my fillings. Miraculously I made it through without the metal detector going off. It was a first for me. Maybe this was going to be alright after all. But wait! Where is my carry on? Oh, it's going through the screening for a third time.

I have a small set of screwdriver heads that could almost puncture skin if you shot them out of a cannon at someone. They had to go. This being the first time they decided that I couldn't bring them I was at a loss of words. I asked what my choices were.

"Oh, well, you can mail them home or throw them away. You had better decide soon so you can get on the plane. Now, I have to escort you out."

Sure enough, she escorted me away from the place like I was Jabba The Hut at an all you can eat buffet. I went to the information desk and asked him how much to send my stuff. He pulled out envelopes. I may not be a highly trained expert in the art of TSA security or Airport Information Services, but I do know that a whole screwdriver set will not fit in a size 10 envelope. He looked at me as if to say, "That's all I've got. What about you?"

I went to ask Hawaiian Air if they could hold my stuff at the courtesy desk for me. The line was so long I thought I'd have to walk half way back to my house to find the end of it. I quickly abandoned that idea. I came crawling back to the mongoloid working at the information desk. The best he could do was recommend that I have my hardware declared as lost. I envisioned this to mean that they will ship it to the set of the highly rated TV show thus landing me a credit in the episode where a crazy Muslim stabs someone on the island in their sleep. I was wrong.

The idea is that I leave there as a lost item and I have my mom come by and pick it up for me later. I run the risk of someone else seeing it and claiming it to be theirs or it actually becoming lost. I asked him if it would be possible to have my name on it so it would be obviously marked as mine. He looked at me incredulously and said, "Well, if it had your name on it than it wouldn't be lost, would it?" Well, duh! What I thinking!? Wanting my stuff to still be owned by me and all...

I walk back through security once again and see the person in front of me wearing black tennis shoes walk through with them on. I tried the same. I was sternly told, "I'm sorry, but those kind of shoes have to be removed." What? Was I wearing the wrong color?

I get to my over crowded gate and inquire about my seat. I am told to wait. Then they board First Class. I assumed I would be in steerage. My name was finally called and I was finally assigned a seat after the Second class citizens were already boarding. My seat was dead last in the line. The guy next to me was very tired. I know because even though he was sleeping the entire time he kept snoring and jerking every few minutes, thus bumping me into the isle as the cart comes by to smack into my elbow - frequently. It was so wonderfully synchronized I was beginning to wonder if it was some beautifully planned ballet.

Sitting in the low income section I was also the last on the list for any form of service. By the time the food cart came to me all of the food that didn't contain sawdust was gone. The person three seats down got a plate of warm lasagna. I got a stale roll with a dry slice of pressed turkey sweepings. *Yea*

My ride to campus was waiting for me when I arrived in Honolulu. A bag got a strap caught in the conveyer belt causing a back up and I didn't have any patience left to get my last bag. I jumped over the belt onto an island in the middle. I freed the bag and gave it to the owner. Just then I saw my bag passing before my eyes. I grabbed a hold of it, did a cartwheel over it landing on the other side and then pulling my bag off the belt in fluid motion. I actually got a light applause from the crowd around me. I only wish I had some visual documentation for proof of my spectacular feat.

I arrived on campus and began to wonder where I would sleep that night. I found a party for some employee's of some department that I don't work for. The food was pretty good. I would consider working there for the pot lucks alone. After that I followed up on a lead for a place to rent.

This place had new carpet and a fresh paint job, but no furniture at all. They then informed me that they have decided to go with someone else but as a consolation prize I was welcome to sleep on the floor for the night.

The next day I wandered around and paid tuition, spent 10 hours trying to clean up my computer lab for my job, and continued the house hunt. Again I had many close calls but no luck. One piece of valuable information I learned is that sleeping in the back seat of a car is not that bad, but avoid leather and/or vinyl seats. I felt like I was floating in a pool of my own sweat.

At the end of my third day I found a place here in Laie. It's a small room upstairs in the house of a lady who has had most of her children move out. The backyard is the famous Hukilau Beach. The actual entrance to the beach is only three doors down. I later found out that some of my friends live three doors down in the other direction.

Thus ends my homeless experiment. I went three days with no bed, no place to stay and eating only what I could find for free. All in all, it was not so bad. If at any time I started to get tired of it I just kept telling myself one thing: This will make for a great blog subject.