The Holding Cell

The Chase

2011-10-12T09:34:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday afternoon, I took a bike ride down to a little village south of us. I took one of the side roads on the ride out, so I was framed by farm lands on either side of the road. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, in the low 70’s, not a cloud in the sky, perfect weather to be outside.

After passing through Ionia, I was going to come back on Rt. 64, which is a straight shot back to our house. It’s a big, wide road with generous shoulders and great paving, so on the way back, which is all downhill, you can really cruze.

As I was waiting to turn on Rt. 64 (it’s a left hand turn crossing 55 mph traffic, so I make sure the way is clear ), another cyclist went flying by the way I was going to go. I decided right then and there that I was going to chase this person, as best as I can, to push myself for the ride back.

To be honest, I’m not the fastest cyclist. Oh, I don’t poke along (at least I don’t think so) and I try to push myself, but I’m not in the same kind of shape that a lot of these people are. I’m better than your casual rider, but I consistently get dusted by people that take more than a casual interest in the sport.

So, even though the ride back is all downhill, I know it’s going to be a challenge for me to try to keep up with this person, let along catch them. But, I figure, what the hell, let’s give it the old, out of shape 48 year old dad try.

I turn onto Rt. 64 and start spinning. Just south of Ionia, there’s a hill that’s going to be the only challenge for me. I stomp on the peddles and start to downshift to climb the hill when my bike decides to screw with me and the chain derails.

Shit. Now there’s no way I’m going to catch this person.

I hop off, get the chain back on and start peddling. As I crest the hill, I can see the other cyclist is waaaaay out in front of me, easily a half mile or more. I’m screwed. Even with my substantial mass assisting me on the downhill’s, I realize that there’s no way I’m going to catch any competent cyclist at this point.

But, I start pushing anyways. I figure that even if I cannot catch them, it’s still going to be a good test for me to push as hard as I can to see what I’ve got. And, at a minimum, hopefully I can make sure nobody catches me from behind.

After a little while, I realize that I’m actually getting closer to this person. I’m standing to climb the short hills, sprinting (well, at least for me what counts for sprinting) across intersections and pushing hard on any flats or declines.

By the time we get to Cheesefactory Road, now I’m only a few hundred yards behind the other person. By the time we cross Taylor, just outside of Mendon, I’m within 50 – 75 feet. Now, I’m conflicted. What does “catching” someone really mean? Does this count, or do I have to pass them? Have I achieved the goal I set out, or do I need to pass to make it count.

Going down the hill into Mendon, I drop back slightly. There’s very little shoulder here and a blinking 4 way stop in the village, with a good amount of traffic, so it’s really not the time or the place to pass anyone. At least, for my small skills, it’s not the place.

We pass through the light and start the slight climb out of the village. Now, here’s the other problem. I’m gassed. For the last 10 – 15 minutes I’ve pretty much given what I’ve got, and now I’m concerned that if I do try to pass, I’m not going to be able to continue the pace and stay ahead of the person. I don’t want to look like a dick and pass the person just to be passed in turn. I’m have no idea what passes for good form or etiquette in cycling, but I’m pretty sure that would be a dick move.

We pass smith road, go around a curve and 64 flattens out for about a mile or so. I’m close enough to this guy that I can’t see the road beyond and I don’t like being in that position. So, I make my decision and begin to pass.

I call out “passing on the left”, pull out on to 64 and give what little gas I have left. The other cyclist calls out “sounds good to me” in a distinctly female voice.

Great. Not to sound sexist, but I put in all that effort to pass a woman? Serious hit to the man cred. Now, before you get yourself all up in a dander, obviously, I know there are some very fit women out there who are excellent cyclists and can kick my ass all day long. There are some blind nuns in wheelchairs that can kick my ass. I understand that. But, never the less, it was still somewhat disheartening to pass a woman.

So, right after I pass her, she calls out “if I can catch you, I’m going to draft off of you. I’m on mile 40 and I’m a little tired so I can use all the help that I can”.

Awesome. I’m sitting on mile 20 and thought I was all that and a bag of chips for catching her, and she’s gone twice as far as me. Can this get any worse?

Short answer is yes, it can.

She calls out “you remind me of one of my friends I cycle with a lot”

I replied “oh, yea? Why’s that?”

She said “He always says “I may not be the best cyclist, but the draft off of me is awesome””.

Great, so now I’m fat like your friend. On second thought, get the hell out of my draft…

Anyway…I continued to push and “broke wind” for her, up the last hill on 64 to our street. I yelled back to let her know I was turning and she said “can’t you pull me all the way up to the top of the hill?”

About a minute later I was in our driveway and basking in the glow of the knowledge that, at least for today, with some qualifiers, there was at least one other person in Rochester that I could pass. Good enough for me.

The word according to Torrent

2011-09-09T05:36:00.000-04:00

This was a comment on the WSJ today, that made me think of Torrent:

"A private sector crony are those companies and people who are in business solely to make profit at the expense of others. Those who have no regard for their social or environmental responsibilities."

I was so glad to see that Torrent's unique view of how capitalism should work has finally made it out of the pages of Multiply. We should have cake to celebrate!

Thanks, Mom.

2011-08-16T17:04:00.000-04:00

A couple of weekends ago, on a Saturday, while riding my road bike (not a motorcycle, mind you, just a regular old road bike) I decided to crash into a completely stationary gate. I’ll spare you the decision process and momentary inattentiveness that lead to this occurrence, so we can move the right along.

But, let me just say that during my college years, when alcohol was more of a constant companion rather than the distant relative that it’s turned into these days, I had my fair share of gates & doors and toilet seats that jumped up out of nowhere and smacked me around. Oh, I gave as good as I got, believe you me, but let me just say here and now the concept of Mike falling down and going boom, isn’t unheard of.

But I digress.

After a trip to the ER and a CAT scan (yes, children, your father actually does have a brain, see it shows it right here), I was diagnosed with a close head injury (concussion) and sent home.

While we were at the hospital, my wife, God bless her, decided to update her status on Facebook with what was going on. Awesome. So before the world around me has stopped spinning, she’s carrying on status updates with all of her friends about my stupidity.

I understand with some couples, that when the guy is sick, he turns into a complete baby. I, on the other hand, don’t do this. I try my best not to complain, because frankly, nobody cares. But, in this situation, even though I was joking around and trying to make light of the situation, maybe you could put down the smart phone and focus on me for a while?

Anyway.

We get home a little while later and there’s the usual hubbub going on when this stuff happens. People stop over, people call, etc. etc. Now, I had every intention of calling my mom & updating her (she doesn’t use Facebook), but time slipped away and I forgot. Let’s just blame it on the brain injury, shall we? One day led to another and I forgot that I hadn’t called and talked with her. Lucky for me, the rest of the family, who had seen all the updates let her know what was going on.

I talked with her today. During the conversation, she said that she had been meaning to call, but she’d been so wrapped up in her own medical dramas, that she didn’t call. Now, my mother, God bless her, pretty much has everything a person could potentially have that isn’t lethal. Open the Merk Manual and chances are she has it. Maybe it’s a cry for attention from the former family counselor (ironic, isn’t it?) or maybe she really does have all these lingering maladies. All I know is that every conversation we have now, half of it is her updating me on her progression though the medical system with whatever the latest & greatest issue she has is.

So when she told me that she was too wrapped up in her own drama, it kind of pissed me off. It’s par for the course with her, unfortunately, on a number of issues, which I guess shouldn’t surprise me.

Yes, I am one of those people that can continually hope for the best out of people and still be disappointed when they let me down, again. I know, at 47 years old, I shouldn’t need a reassuring call from my mom, and trust me, I don’t. But when she just laid it right out there like she did, it was a real WTF Mom moment.

So, thanks for listening, cold & impersonal interwebs. You’ve been a big help.

Cell phones don't cause caner.

2011-06-02T06:57:00.000-04:00

There have been multiple studies done that have shown that there is no direct relationship between cell phone use and cancer. The only study that did was where they talked to people that had brain cancer and asked them if they used cell phones. A lot of people said that they did and based upon that the papers authors said that there might be a link. Plus, that paper has been widely criticized by other researchers as having a lot of problems.

5 billion people across the world use cell phones now. With that much exposure, if cell phones really, really caused cancer, shouldn't we be seeing an epidemic of brain cancer? But yet there is no higher incident rate of brain cancer now that there has ever been.

BTW, the same group that said cell phones may cause cancer have said that talcum power can cause cancer. So how is that talcum power cancer rate going?

So some idiot group puts this out there, every media outlet runs with it and now stupid people everywhere think that cell phones may cause cancer. Maybe that same group should say that to avoid cell phone cancer, you need to wear a tin foil hat and that way we'll be able to identify all the stupid people out there.

Scott Brown is an idiot.

2011-05-24T07:28:00.000-04:00

People like Scott Brown help me appreciate people like Paul Ryan so much more every day. It didn't just take political courage for Ryan to propose his budget plan, it took real leadership.

So, instead of actually having a real, national conversation about entitlements, thanks to Obama & turn coats like Brown, nothing is going to happen. Way to go, boys & girls. The Titanic is steaming straight towards the ice berg & most of you are arguing about where your deck chairs are.

Can someone take that scene of Leia saying "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope" and dub in "Paul Ryan" for Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Mother Nature laughs at your global warming call and raises you another earthquake.

2011-03-15T06:31:00.000-04:00

I know that the environmentalists continue to warn us about global warming, but I'm beginning to feel that in the long run, the greatest danger to us all is just the plain old universe. We can do whatever we want, try our very best to protect ourselves, and in the end Mother Nature is going to shrug and just do what she pleases.

Should we spend billions and billions on a cap and trade system that won't do one lick of good to curb emissions at all, or spend that money and move people out of earthquake prone zones? If we really want to save lives, what's the better way to spend our money?

Of course, if we really wanted to save lives, the first thing we should do is equip every single car with drug / alcohol detection equipment, but that's a different moral and legal argument.

Also, if I lived in California, I'd be looking at what happened to Japan and I'd start making plans to move out. That country was one of the best prepared, and in a matter of seconds so much was destroyed or wiped out. What's California going to look like if the same sort of earthquake and tsunami happens there? Maybe to the LA basin?

Enough of the doom and gloom. If you're reading this, thanks for stopping by. If I don't see you, have a good day, a good evening and a good night.

I'm starting to get to the point where I'm tired of all the constant Obama bashing,

2010-09-02T09:52:00.000-04:00

Then again, the left & the media never, ever, stopped bashing Bush. So, from that standpoint, screw Obama.

I am tired of the personal attacks on him and his family. I think that people that wish personal harm on him should stop and pull back a little. We can disagree on policy (which I do), but wishing that the boat that he & his family are on sinks? Please. Let's show a little more class than the left, ok?

By the way, can we get to November already and see what happens? Please? This is worse than waiting for Christmas. I know I'll be disappointed for Christmas so I've gotten used to it, but I've gotten my hopes up about November's elections and now I can't wait. Damn the inflexibility of the time! Where's Doc & the De Lauren when you need it!

Ok, so who's the tougher chic?

2010-08-16T07:55:00.000-04:00

Sarah Connor or Alice from Resident Evil?

Personally, I think Linda Hamilton in T2 is about as tough as nails, gritty and fierce as you can get. Almost Jason Bourne, but with more despiration.

Alice, on the other hand, has been enhanced. So this might not be a fair comparison, but still, Alice is pretty frickin bad ass.

Your thoughts?

Grand Opening

2010-08-06T10:38:00.000-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv3kYxEvbdw

Is this really a good idea?

2010-08-03T14:00:00.000-04:00

Let’s say, for example, that you were in a long term relationship. For like, oh, I don’t know, about 8 years. But, as time when on, you started getting really tired of your partner’s shit. We all know how this goes, right?

So, you find yourself a new guy/girl/shemale/it (whatever) and initially, everything is groovy. But, as time marches on, cracks begin to show, and you start thinking that maybe it’s time a change. You start dropping hints to the new guy/girl/shemale/it (whatever) that their shit does stink now and unless they clean it up, you’re going to give them their walking papers.

Now, what do you think should be the approach of the new guy/girl/shemale/it (whatever) in this situation? Should they a) take responsibility for their actions and feed you a line of crap of they are going to listen to you and everything will get better, or; b) use this opportunity to blame your previous partner for all the issues in your relationship.

The Democrats, it appears, have chosen B as their campaign strategy for this fall.

Sounds like it’s time for Dr. Phil to do an intervention with the DNC.

Settled Science

2010-08-03T13:59:00.000-04:00

If you talk with people who are “in the know”, they tell you that global warming is settled science. All set, all done,wrapped up in a pretty bow, thank you very much. Don’t ask any questions, because any one asking probing questions is obviously a “denier”, a modern day heretic that needs to be coddled, or beaten like a seal cub until bloody & dead.

Settled science?

So “they” (in this case some astronomers who didn't’t get the memo that they were supposed to know everything that is supposed to be known at this point), discovered a new, super massive star (R136a1) that is way, way, way ,bigger than they ever thought was possible. Oops. So much for that theory.

But, lucky for all of us, all the really smart dudes work in climate science and they’ve already figured out all that is to know. Maybe, if climate science is all plumbed out, these out of work climate scientists should go help those stupid astronomers who haven’t figured everything out yet.

Better yet, maybe they should go help all those dumb doctors who can’t seem to figure out cancer, Parkinson's, aging and all those other bothersome medical issues that we can’t seem to escape.

I mean, come on. If you can figure out something as complex as global climate and make really accurate long term forecasts that we’re all supposed to buy into, how hard can it be to cure cancer?

Settled science my ass.

Obama to GOP: Restore unemployment benefits now

2010-07-19T10:47:00.000-04:00

President Obama has never seen anything that he wouldn't buy with other people's money. He's like that one housewife on the Real Housewives of NJ that ran up 11 million in debt as her husband's business disapeared. Out of touch with reality, reality TV.

Do you think

2010-06-22T10:51:00.000-04:00

that secrectly Obama is thanking McChrystal for blabing his mouth off to Rolling Stone and for one news cycle getting his (Obama's) handling of the gulf crisis off the front page?

Thank God I lived long enough to see this day

2010-06-17T12:09:00.000-04:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20100617/people_nm/us_bluesbrothers

Vatican endorses "The Blues Brothers"

"On the 30th anniversary of the film's release, "L'Osservatore Romano," the Vatican's official newspaper, called the film a "Catholic classic" and said it should be recommended viewing for Catholics everywhere."

Now, if we can get a little dispensation from the Holy Father to add Caddy Shack & Animal House to the list, the celluloid holy trinity will be complete.

2010-06-14T11:07:00.000-04:00

Today, our local paper had an opinion piece by Susan Estrich titled “Political experience can't be discounted”

http://www.democratandchronicle.com/article/20100614/OPINION06/6110344/1039/OPINION02/Susan-Estrich--Political-experience-can-t-be-discounted

In the piece, Ms. Estrich references an earlier column by Willian Safire:

“Some years ago, the late New York Times and Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist William Safire wrote a great column comparing politicians to plumbers. It was during one of those periods when (like now) experience had become a dirty word in politics and incumbency was a veritable curse.

There was nothing worse you could say about someone than to call him a "career politician" — just what California Republican gubernatorial nominee Meg Whitman called her rival for the office only yesterday.

Safire's point was a simple one: Would you hire a plumber who'd never done any plumbing to fix your pipes?

Why is politics different? If the plumber messes up, your toilet might flood or, worse, your pipes might burst. If the governor gets it wrong...”

Now, I’m no William Safire, but I may know a thing or two about the differences between plumbing and politics, and I’ve got a few bones to pick with this analogy and Ms. Estrich.

Ms. Estrich goes on develop her theme that politics and governing are hard and that we should let experienced individuals handle the job. She illustrates her position with a few gaffes that Nikki Haley, Carly Fiorina and Meg Whitman have made during their campaigns this spring, saying that “unprecedented number of newbies … have never faced the sort of intense scrutiny that a general election campaign brings”.

Before we get back to our poor friends the plumbers (who, I think, maybe a little angry with us for comparing them to politicians), I’m would like to point out that Carly Fiorina & Meg Whitman have / had more real life executive experience than our current POTUS did before / while he was running for office. If she considers them to be under-experienced newbies, why didn’t she consider his lack of experience as sufficient to preclude him from the highest office in the land? If running a Fortune 500 company doesn’t adequately prepare you to be a governor or a senator, how does being a senator for one term qualify you to be the POTUS?

If we only allowed experienced individuals to apply for particular jobs (plumbing, politics, governing), then how would anyone gain any practical experience in those fields? I believe that there are a number of highly intelligent individuals with real world leadership and managerial experience that are more than capable of running state and federal governments. Look at Michael Bloomberg for example. Who would you rather having running NYC, Michael Bloomberg or President Obama?

Also, if verbal gaffes were an indication of an individual’s incompetence for higher office, just what exactly is Joe Biden doing as VP?

I respect commentators who’s internal logic is consistent throughout an article and can be applied easily to the world around us. If you’re going to write an opinion piece that cannot be held up to even the simplest analysis (by “gasp” us unqualified gen pop), then maybe you’re the one not qualified for what you’re doing.

I’m not a plumber, but I’ve been able to fix a number of plumbing related issues in our house. Sometimes, politics, like plumbing, really isn’t that hard.

So who did Bohemian Rhapsody better?

2010-06-10T11:19:00.000-04:00

Wayne's world or Glee?

Sure, this doesn't rank up there with some of the weightier issues Jack raises, but hey, inquiring minds want to know.

FGC v Nipple piercings – Which is right and which is wrong?

2010-06-03T10:55:00.000-04:00

On Friday, May 14th, Science Friday had the following as one of the topics:

Is it Right to Nick?

This month, the American Academy of Pediatrics proposed that consideration be given to allowing U.S. doctors to perform a 'ritual nick' on the genitals of female infants, in the hopes that allowing such a practice might dissuade parents from subjecting the girls to traditional genital cutting procedures. The proposal is extremely controversial, and the recommendation proposed by the group would be prohibited under current law.

"The American Academy of Pediatrics opposes all types of female genital cutting that pose risks of physical or psychological harm, counsels its members not to perform such procedures, recommends that its members actively seek to dissuade families from carrying out harmful forms of FGC, and urges its members to provide patients and their parents with compassionate education about the harms of FGC while remaining sensitive to the cultural and religious reasons that motivate parents to seek this procedure for their daughters," the group said in a statement. We'll talk about the proposal, and the challenges faced when medicine mix with morality

During the show, there as a caller that said (I’m paraphrasing) “All forms of FGC are wrong, including “nicking”, and should be banned, regardless of cultural or religious reasons”.

Now, I’m not defending FGC at all. But what I started to think about is all the pictures I see these days (care of Google Reader), where women have all manner of body parts pierced and tattooed.

Is it hypocritical for us as a society to say that the practice of FGC, where practiced (possibly) against the wishes of the woman (or girl), is wrong, but it’s perfectly acceptable if that same woman (or girl) wishes to pierce, tattoo or in some way modify, their genitalia, or their own accord? And if we tell those societies and cultures that FGC is wrong and should be stopped, do they have the same moral authority to say to us that we shouldn’t allow our women to tattoo and pierce their genitalia?

Let’s guess which story fits best with the template of what the media likes to report:

2010-06-03T10:54:00.000-04:00

Which story is going to get the most headlines? Here’s a tip – it’s not necessarily the one where the most amount of people died:

a) Over 170 people killed in a tropical storm that strikes South America

b) Over 30 people killed in the slums of Jamaica when the police hunt down a drug kingpin

c) 9 people killed on ships trying to run an Israeli blockade

Hmmm, which story is going to generate more international outrage, cries for investigations and condemnation?

For fun, let’s follow up with an essay question. Here’s the situation. You’re on a ship that is “supposedly” carrying aid to the starving terrorists on the Gaza strip. You know that Israel has imposed this blockade and search every single ship before it allows it to dock at the Gaza strip. Now, for fun, the organizers decide to rebuff the Israeli requests to turn around and ignore their threats to board your ship. Now, It’s the middle of the night and all of a sudden, people dressed in black with guns rope down from helicopters.

In 500 words or less, please explain why it’s a good idea, in this situation, to attack the guys with the guns. And not expect them to fight back.

The 15 minute Blog

2010-04-29T10:44:00.000-04:00

Things have just been busy. I’d like to write more, but I just don’t seem to find the time anymore (Damn you Google Reader!). So, in an effort to throw some sort of update on here, I’m giving myself 15 minutes to get down what I can, then it’s back to work.

We put our old dog down on Saturday. We all cried a lot and it was really sad. She was such a good dog, we had neighbors coming over to say good bye as well as our kids friends. The other dogs are having a tough go of it, without Sierra. Our youngest one, the Aussie, doesn’t want to come upstairs at night, as he always used to wait until Sierra did. There are other little things that he’s doing differently now, that he wasn’t just a few days ago. As I’m walking the dogs in the morning, I can’t help but to think of when I’d walk the same paths with Sierra not too long ago. It’s sad, but as always, we’ll move on.

My kids are trying to drive me nuts. Our oldest one, who’s matured greatly at school this year, can still piss the shit out of me when she wants to. Something came up where we wanted her to do something, and for all of her supposed maturity, she fell back into the same defensive posturing that she has always done. One thing at a time, I guess.

Our son, who’ll be going off to school next year, has taken over the role of most aggravating child, most recently held by our oldest one last year, at this same time. Every day it seems to be one more thing that we’ve got to battle about. And every day it seems he comes downstairs and says something along the line of “I’ve always wanted to do this and now since I’m 18, I was thinking of….”

We try to be really tolerant parents. I’ve never been one to take the stance of “While you’re living under my house…”. But, the other night, when he came down and said “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo and now that I’m 18…” I came this close (hold your fingers about ¼ inch apart) from blowing a gasket. Fucking kids. It really is so much easier when you can just change their diapers and jam a bottle in their mouths to shut them up.

I’m sure, with the clarity of hindsight, that there was no way that I was this much of a pain in the ass the spring of my senior year of high school. Just no way. I was perfect and (so she says) was my wife at this time of our lives. Apparently, outside of the house, everyone thinks our kids are as well. Is it so much to ask that they try to share a little of that perfection inside our house? And, while they are at it, pick up their dirty dishes?

One minute left. So, on Thursday, September 2nd, Rush is coming to the NY State fair. My wife laughed at me when I asked her if she wanted to go. She said “I’m sure you’ll find someone to go with you”. That being said, anyone interested?

Under the tree and dreaming, continued…

2010-04-21T15:27:00.001-04:00

Let’s pick up this happy narrative where we left off, shall we?

So, after all the drama with Sierra, as a last ditch effort before putting her down, we gave her a course of antibiotic. And wouldn’t you know, two days later she was up and around, acting like nothing had ever been wrong. At the vets, she’d become known as the dog with 9 lives.

Fast forward 6 months.

Coming home one Saturday, we’re walking in the house when we hear a weird cry from upstairs. I race upstairs and Sierra is having trouble getting up. She starts limping around, almost as though her leg has fallen asleep. I don’t think much of it as I help her downstairs and out the door.

But, the soreness in the leg continues. And continues. And continues.

So, towards the end of March, we take her in for an exam. The Doc shoots an xray of her hip and brings it in to show us. She (the vet) can’t see anything, so she proscribes a course of pain pills and rimadyl, to help decrease any swelling that she may be experiencing in the hip.
Slowly, the dog made gradual improvements, to the point where last week I began to take her on short walks again.

Until this weekend.

At some point over the weekend, something happened and Sierra lost all use of the leg. She wouldn’t put any weight on it and started dragging the leg around. We were carrying her up and down the stairs and trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

We took her in for xrays yesterday and were completely unprepared for what they showed. Apparently, the top of Sierra’s femur was rotted away by cancer and at some point over the weekend, completely snapped off. The xray showed the ball of the femur still in the socket of the hip and a bunch of bone fragments between there and the rest of the femur.

The dog with 9 lives has run out of life.

We’re picking up our daughter from college on Friday, so she can come home and spend some time with Sierra. I’ll take her, (the dog) in Saturday morning and go through the bitter ritual one more time.

We just put down once of our cats (12 years old and wasting away from some mystery cancer) two weeks ago. April has turned into the worst month for our family. My mother in law passed away several years ago in April, as well as a nephew. We’ll have put down two cats and two dogs in April as well.

For a month that can be so beautiful, with blooming plants and spring in the air, it has turned into the bitter season for us.

That’s Rimadyl not Ritalin

2010-04-16T15:58:00.000-04:00

I was calling the vet today to renew a prescription for one of our pets. As I was on the phone with the vet, she asked me which medication we wanted renewed. Being at work and trying to multitask, I said “We want to renew the Ritalin”

There was a pause on the other end.

I quickly said “The rimadyl. We want the rimadyl, not Ritalin. She pays attention fine in class so we can take her off the Ritalin now. It’s her arthritis that’s acting up now...”. The tech had a good laugh and we moved along.

Note to self. When getting the kids medications, please make sure to pay attention…

A funny thing happened on the way to the doppler imaging

2010-03-12T11:48:00.000-05:00

Sooooooo

For the past month or so, I've been having this pain in my leg. I'll spare you the details. They're just not that exciting.

I went to my doctor, who thought it might be arthritis in my hip. After sending me down to get my knee and hip xrayed (where, btw, the receptionist was smoking hot, thank you very much), he looked at the xray and thought that it confirmed his initial diagnosis. But, being a good Doc and not having met his billing quota yet, he wanted me to have doppler imaging of my leg, to rule out any blood clots.

So I'm like, yea, I'm down with ruling out blood clots, since, you know, they can lead to death and shit like that.

His receptionist calls the Vascular doctor and they say "run right over, we'll see him now". I drive like a mad man to the office, three towns away, since, you know, they said "get here as soon as you can". I walk in and say to the receptionist "Hi. I'm me and I'm here". She looks at me and says "Wow, you got here fast. Did you run over here or something". Ah, yea, like you said to, idiot.

Anyway, moving on...

Now, before we proceed any further, let me just say, that like any good husband and father, I went to all my wife's sonogram appointments. So I'm kind of familiar with what a sonogram/doppler imaging is. I'm just not familiar with what they do when they do it to you leg, ok? But, you know, like, what's the big deal, right?

So this cute, gum chewing tech leads me back to the exam room and says "lose the pants, hop up on the table and cover yourself from the waist dow with the sheet". So far, so good.

I'm sitting there, looking at the old ceiling tile, when she walks back in and gets to work. The first thing she does is pull the sheet off the leg to be examined and with her purple gloved hands, curls the sheet up into my boxers. So now my leg is exposed all the way from my groin to my toes. Ok, I can work with this, right? I'm a mature dude, no reason to get excited, right?

That was, until she squirted the goo all up and down my leg and started rubbing the doppler probe all over the place. And I mean ALL over the place.

Ah, hello? A little warning would have been nice. I had to immediately launch into a mental review of recent accounting policies and regulations, cataloging my sock drawer and anything else to keep my mind off the rubbing and probing going on all over my leg. I wanted to say to the tech "the last time I got rubbed like that, there was a happy ending included", but, fortunately, I refrained. I was able to make it through the exam without showing the tech my probe, which, I thought, was no small achievement.

So that was my excitement at the doctor's office last week. Et tu?

My Post Secret

2010-03-08T10:46:00.000-05:00

“My son’s high school hockey team has made it to the State’s semi-finals. My son’s coach doesn’t like him, so he never plays him. I hope they lose.”

There is one more week of this strange, confusing and frustrating season left. On one hand, we’re all excited that the team has made it to the semi-finals, the “Frozen Four” as it is. On the other hand, our son is hardly playing and we’d just like this special kind of torture to come to an end.

On Saturday, the team was playing down in Newburg NY in a Regional play-off game. We got out early on the other team and by the end of the 2nd period, we were up 5 – 0. Our son had played 1 or 2 shifts in the first period, had four shots on goal, didn’t make any mistakes, and hadn’t seen the ice since then.

After a really long delay between the 2nd & 3rd periods, the other team came out like gang busters. They scored a couple of power play goals, we responded with a goal, so now it’s 6-2 with about 8 minutes left. The realization that there is no way to win is settling in with the other team, so they are starting to head hunt and have knocked two of our key defensive players out.

Now, as the defensive coach, who’s apparently coached for something like 30 years, wouldn’t you start to think about the fact that you’ve got another game next week? Maybe now would be a good time to rest your starters, put out the big guys (our son’s 6’ 4”, and another boy is 6’ 2”, both of whom he never plays) and just try to get to the end of the game without anybody else getting hurt?

Especially when the head coach has specifically come down to the end of the bench and told you to do this?

Oh no. Not Mr. I-used-to-coach-Cornell’s-club-team-and-nobody-can-tell-me-what-to-do defensive coach. Not only does he not send the cannon fodder players out to spell his “star” players, he shortens the bench and only sends out his top remaining four players.
Genius. I drove 5 hours to see this?

It got to the point where one of the offensive coaches came down, grabbed my son and dragged him to the other end of the bench, told him not to get any penalties and sent him out on the next shift change. So, for the last 3 minutes of the game, the biggest, strongest, defensive player we had, played offense, banged people around, kept the puck out of our zone, and the other team never got a shot on goal during the last three minutes.

We’re walking out and people are congratulating us on how well our son played. If everyone else can see it, why can’t this coach?

And now I’m at this point where I’m completely conflicted. Where I can’t be that excited about the team making it this far, because of the utter bullshit that my kid has had to go through, and continues to go through, because of this idiot of a coach.

One more week.

The eye of Sauron sees you from space

2010-02-16T10:49:00.001-05:00

And it knows what you did last night.

You cheeky devil.

Smells I don't appreciate in my office

2010-02-16T05:45:00.000-05:00

One of the the girls in our office just came into my office, with her mid-morning repast. She's snacking on smoked trout and cucumber. Normally, if taken separately, I might enjoy these food items. But, at 10:30 in the morning, these two smells commingling in my office is making my stomach do flips, and not very enjoyable flips.

Ugh. Why couldn't she have had something like oatmeal or chips or tacos for brunch? Now I have to go out and wander around our office, while my room fumigates, and subject myself to the gen pop.

Thank you very much, crazy health food lady. Next time, please don't share.

Copiers, unlike husbands and boyfriends,

2010-02-03T05:30:00.000-05:00

Generally don't work better the harder you hit them.

But, since you don't actually pay the lease payment on that $20,000 machine, go ahead and bang away at it, office troll.

My New Year’s resolutions

2010-01-04T10:45:00.000-05:00

I’ve heard, that if you want to achieve your goals, it’s a good idea to write them down. So, under the guise of “new year’s resolutions”, here are my goals for twentyten. I will not be offended at all, if nobody reads this, as it’s really all about myself.

Goal, #1 - I want to get down to 240 lbs. (approximately).

I have lost about 7 lbs from last year at this time. Since, on average, the average American gains 2 lbs. a year, it’s almost like I’ve lost 9 lbs. In any event, I want to be down to 245 by June 1st, and 240 by November 1st, and maintain that through the end of the year. Slow and steady wins the race, I say, and I’m not going on some diet or other goofy crap that I’ll never be able to stay with. Also, when I say approximately, I know that my weight can swing around 3 – 4 lbs at any given time, so if I consistently hitting the numbers listed above by those dates, I’ll consider the goal achieved.

Goal #2 – Decrease fast food to once a week (breakfasts & lunch)

I love getting breakfast from Tim Hortens. BK’s wrapper things are a close 2nd, but Horten’s sausage & egg biscuit are to die for, at least for me. Generally, I’ve been getting these twice a week, so I want to cut that down to once a week.
I used to get lunch out a couple of times a week, but I’ve managed to cut that down to once a week, generally. I’m going to try to eliminate those completely.
I understand that there are going to be times where this is not going to happen, for whatever excuses I want to come up with. I’m giving myself the latitude to accept these as they come, and not kill myself over them, but to get back on track as soon as I can.

Goal #3 – Make my lunches the night before.

This will help support goal #2 (which in turns supports #1). Also, it will save time in the morning, help me get out the door faster, and hopefully lead to some better eating habits. Also, in conjunction with this, I’m going to try to plan to have smaller lunches, but have a mid morning snack & something ready for the drive home in the afternoons. This last part, the late afternoon healthy snack is important. Too often, I don’t have anything, so when I get home, I’m starving. I’ll start eating while we’re getting dinner ready, and it really compounds my caloric intake.

Goal #4 – Cut down sodas (or pop to some of you) to once a day.

I generally drink two diet cokes a day. I’ve seen mentioned in several places where the diet soda’s help pack on weight. I haven’t seen any research on this, so I don’t know how true it is.
More importantly, in our area, diet coke is getting more and more expensive. It used to be we could get 4, 12 packs for $12, and now it’s up to 3, 12 packs for $13. Diet Pepsi, on the other hand, is still at the same old pricing level. So fuck those greedy corporate bastards at Coke. I’m cutting back and they are not getting as much of my money.

Goal #5 – Engage in more physical activity with my wife.

Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m not talking about that.
Our kids are getting older and certainly don’t require as much “hands on” time as when they were growing up. My wife and I are developing a habit of sitting on a couch all night, watching TV and surfing the net. Sure, we’re on the couch together, 3 to 4 nights a week, but we’re turning into vegetables.
My goal, which I haven’t shared with her, is to do some sort of physical activity 3 days a week together, before vegetating out. Not necessarily long or intense, but anything is better than nothing. When the weather is better it could just be sitting outside together, walking the dogs, walking on any of the numerous walking paths near us, anything at all.
In 5 years, our youngest will be a freshman in college and the other two will be out. I’ll be 51 and hopefully we’ll have 20 to 30 good years left. I think that it’s important, both physically and mentally, to be active and engaged with each other, and hopefully this goal will be one step along that path.

Five simple goals. None of them are that difficult to achieve on their own, nor life altering, but if I achieve them, I’ll alter my current and future life.

Irony. It should leave a bitter taste, unless you're a politician

2009-12-31T12:00:00.000-05:00

So, I’m reading this article:
http://www.politico.com/news/stories/1209/31078.html

13 GOP AGs threaten health bill suit

Which says:

“Thirteen Republican state attorneys general are threatening to file a lawsuit challenging the constitutionality of the Senate health care bill.

In a letter sent to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid on Wednesday, South Carolina Attorney General Henry McMaster said he had “grave concerns” about the deal Senate leaders cut with Sen. Ben Nelson (D-Neb.) to secure his crucial vote for the health care package.”

Towards the end of the article, they have this response from the Democrats:

“Democrats have derided the legal analysis as politically motivated. “

Oh, really? And what exactly was the buy-out deal form Nelson called? Charity?

“Hello, Pot?”
“Yes”
“This is kettle. You’re black”

And now for something completly different

2009-12-31T11:57:00.000-05:00

Let’s take a break for a moment, from our usual, rabid discussions revolving around politics, global warming denial and sexual innuendos and talk about something that's near and dear to our hearts. Yes, that’s right, let’s talk about food.

Not just any food, oh no, that would not do for such a momentous posting as this. No, this ode to culinary delight shall be to that stomach filling delight, lasagna. And not just any lasagna, but my wife’s lasagna.

Yes, yes, I’m sure your lasagna is the absolute best that anyone has ever had, but that’s only because Mr. or Mrs. Anyone hasn’t had my wife’s delectable concoction.

Last weekend, my family came to our house to celebrate Christmas. And so, after much debate and consternation as to what meal best represents the holidays, we decided on lasagna. Jack may claim that my part in this discussion may have been influenced more by my personal self interest and by doing so I may have interviened in the optimal, market based solution to the problem.

And he’d be right. I mean, come on, we’re talking about lasagna here, people.

So, my wife made two heaping pans of the stuff, ensuring that a satisfactory quantity was left over to satisfy her husband’s (that's me) pasta desires. You think I jest? Out of the last 11 meals since Saturday, I’ve eaten lasagna 5 times, and finally the last of the artery hardening stuff was devoured at lunch today.

The block I consumed today was 3” tall, 4” wide and 5” long, comprised of seven layers of noodles, meat, garlic, sauce and cheese. This thing was so solid, that if you dropped a brick on it, the brick would shatter.

Now, after gobbling down the aforementioned lasagna, I’m sure a good nap this afternoon will be what the good doctored ordered. I’m not sure that’s what work wants out of me this afternoon, but why else are doors put on offices and “line busy” lights put on our receptionist’s phone tree?
So, before I go, I’ll return you to our regularly scheduled broadcast. Did you hear the one about when Senator Inhofe was caught at the CRU with whips and a dildo…?

The eye of Sauron sees you from space

2009-12-31T06:52:00.000-05:00

And it knows what you did last night.

You cheeky devil.

For every gorgeous woman out there, there’s someone tired of her shit

2009-12-08T15:25:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine always used to say that to me. Actually, the phrase ended with “someone’s tired of fucking them”, but I thought that might be a little harsh in a title.

With that in mind, when I read in someone’s blog that “tiger should be ashamed of cheating on his gorgeous wife”, I realized that it really doesn’t matter what she looks like, or that she bore him two “beautiful” children.

It really doesn’t matter that she is beautiful, gorgeous, thin, white, black, fat, green or can suck a baseball through a garden hose. Well, that last part may actually have something to do with it, but, that’s off topic right now.

This has a lot less to do with Elin’s looks, prowess as a wife and a mother, than with Tiger. News flash, rich, powerful men, who have the world by the balls, cheat on their wives.

Next up on CNN, dog bites man.

Have some pie

2009-12-01T11:15:00.000-05:00

I’ve been thinking for a while about writing about change and the change(s) that I’m going through, or seem to have been going through, over the past few years.

I know, I know, you’re shocked (Shocked!) that the guy that called everyone else an idiot, while misspelling a few words along the way, might have something more to say than just that. Sometimes I even surprise myself.

But, instead of talking about change(s), I decided to talk about pie. Some yummy in my tummy apple pie from Thanksgiving, that I’m still thinking about now.

See, at the end of last year, I wanted to get off my ass and try to become, on a more consistent basis, active. I was looking at turning 45 and the seemingly never ending expansion of my gut, and I decided that enough was enough. Just one helping of enough was going to be enough for me, from now on. Generally. Unless, of course, there’s icing or pie involved, then two helpings of enough will be enough.

I had come to grips with the fact that the mental picture that I have rolling around of my body and what was actually looking back at me from the mirror, have deviated. Significantly. I had also come to grips with the fact that while I’ll never ever look the way I want to (I’ll never put that much effort into anything), but if I feel better about how I feel, that’s going to be a big step in the right direction.

At the beginning of the year, I picked up a heart rate monitor, we purchased a few work out videos, and went at it. I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I’ve lost some weight. Not a ton, but enough that I feel better. Clothes fit better, I know I’m more physically fit, and I haven’t really changed my eating habits. Yea! Small victories.

So, along comes Thanksgiving and the attack of the pies. In our extended family, my wife is the pie gal. She makes a bunch of them and everyone gobbles them up. I love her apple pie, and have gone so far as to demand that she make two of them, one for the family, and one just for me.

Let’s just say, that my long term weight gain isn’t a mystery, ok? You don’t put on 50 lbs in 20 years by eating vegetables, drinking diet water and holding your breath, ok?

Anyway. So last night, I’m watching the Pats get their asses handed to them by the Saints (thanks for the help, Jack!), my tummy is starting to rumble, and there is one last piece of pie calling out to me from the kitchen. I mean, it’s pleading with me, whining about how “it’s the last piece of pie and it’s sooooo lonely here in the dark, cold, kitchen” and so forth.

You know what I’m talking about, right? Like we haven’t all been there? It’s a friend called temptation and it’s a face I stare into on a daily basis.

But, what the hell (I rationalized), why am I going through all this hard work, if I can’t enjoy a freaking piece of pie once in a while, right? We’ll just ignore the fact that it’s the same argument that I’ve used every day since Thanksgiving, because who cares about yesterday.

So I gave in and enjoyed the pie. It was delicious. Tomorrow will be another day, change can wait, but it’s always a good time for pie.

Lies and Bullshit

2009-11-19T10:54:00.000-05:00

That’s my opinion of the “health care reform” legislation in Washington.

If you disagree with me, that’s fine. It’s your right to be a miss-informed idiot and to believe the out & out lies that our elected leaders are trying to foist on us.

This legislation has as much to do with real health care reform as a blowjob from a twenty dollar hooker does with real love. It doesn’t. And if you think that it does, well, again, it’s your right to be a miss-informed idiot.

When our legislators have to resort to bribing classes of people in our society (seniors with the $500 pay-off and doctors with the “doctor’s fix”), so they shut up long enough for this stinking crap to pass a vote, then you should know that this legislation is a stinking pile of horse shit. Sorry, horse shit, I didn’t mean to offend you.

And don’t even get me going on all of the taxes that they are going to implement to “pay” for this crap. OMG, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Anybody that doesn’t understand basic economics and what effect that these taxes are going to have on behavior, well, it’s your right to be a miss-informed idiot…

I could go on, but hopefully you get my point. If you don’t, then please see the above statement about you being a miss-informed idiot.

I’m out.

Right-wing women rock

2009-10-31T06:27:00.000-04:00

A little something for my friends, 'cause girls, you do rock.

http://www.calgarysun.com/comment/columnists/ian_robinson/2009/10/25/11518221-sun.html

The recent election of Danielle Smith as leader of the Wildrose Alliance reminded me that among the many things I love about the libertarian/right wing are the women.

Could be our slogan: Come for the culture war ... stay for the chicks.

Right-wing women rock.

Not for us the sturdy, honest calves of the New Democrat/Green Party female, honed on eco-tourist rainforest hikes.

Those legs are often on unfortunate display, extending from a knee-length tweed skirt as hairy as the legs themselves, and end in a pair of Birkenstocks.

I have yet to see a pair of Birkenstock women's shoes that didn't look like part of the required uniform for police SWAT teams. Sensible shoes are one thing ... quite another to don a pair that look like they're meant for rappelling down the sides of buildings with a Heckler & Koch sniper rifle slung over your shoulder.

The primary reason our womenfolk are at war with the looming spectre of the nanny state is because you can't buy Jimmy Choos in a socialist paradise.

The only sensible footwear you'll find in a right-wing woman's closet are the Nike cross-trainers that go with her gym membership.

Everything else has a three-inch heel. Minimum.

Left-wing drabs recycle. Right-wing women shop -- and the government measures how much they shop every month to find out whether we're still in a recession. Basically, the world economy depends on right-wing women buying shoes.

You never hear a right-wing woman break out statistics pointing out that only 25% of elected offices in Canada are held by women, and then whining about it.

No. A right-wing woman wants to get elected, she runs for office.

If she wins, great. If she loses ... well, there's always more shoe shopping.

Left-wing women burn enormous quantities of fossil fuels to drive across the city to a farmer's market to purchase virtually the same carrot you can get at the neighbourhood Sobey's a couple of blocks from your house for half the price, all in the name of making the environment happy.

A right-wing woman hits the gym, swings past Sobey's and has dinner on the table by the time you get home ... while her left-wing counterpart is still stuck in traffic listening to Sarah McLachlan on her iPod and feeling morally superior about her carrot choices.

And when that plate of food is put in front of you by the right-wing hottie you had the good sense to marry, it will be 100% tofu-free. If you're lucky, she just remembered to buy steak and forgot about the carrot entirely.

Right-wing women have traditional families, so they want to raise them themselves ... or at the very least by a nanny they've vetted, rather than abdicating that responsibility to the state.

They know that the good life costs money ... so they're not sure why the average Canadian is handing -- on average! -- half their income to smarmy government apparatchiks who spend it mostly on stupid crap.

Our women are a genuine asset when they enter politics because they've spent their lives figuring out how to live within their family's means ... while still affording a couple of pairs of those Jimmy Choos.

Because most of them have careers and work hard, they understand the value of a dollar, allowing you a steak lifestyle on a hamburger income ... and they know they can spend their family's money more intelligently than some faceless bureaucrat with a passion for public art or totalitarian city planning.

Right-wing women are essentially libertarians ... they don't take well to being bossed around and they don't like bossing other people around unless it's to tell them they can't spend money.

If they can tell their kid he can't have the newest Xbox upgrade and make it stick ... if they can make a husband understand it makes more sense to put money in an RRSP than going to the Super Bowl with the guys every year ... if they can pull all that off, then fixing health care shouldn't be too big a stretch.

And in case you're not convinced, to indicate the utter superiority of the right-wing woman over the left-wing variant ... just turn on The View.

The left has Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg.

We've got Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

Checkmate.

Let’s ask Frank Herbert what he thinks, ay?

2009-10-30T10:42:00.000-04:00

I saw this today on the web:

“President Barack Obama is considering a scaled-down version of the war plan advanced by his top Afghanistan commander, Gen. Stanley McChrystal, U.S. officials say.

Such a narrowed military mission would increase American forces to accomplish the commander's broadest goals of protecting Afghan cities and key infrastructure. But with fewer troops, the strategy likely would cut back on McChrystal's ambitious objectives, amounting to what one official described as "McChrystal Light."

So I thought, “Hey, let’s see what Frank Herbert’s novel Dune has to say about this”

“What’s the talk of Rabban in the sinks and villages?” Paul Asked
“They say they’ve fortified the graben villages to the point where you cannot harm them. They say they need only sit inside their defenses while you wear yourselves out in futile attack”
“In a word,” Paul Said, “they’re immobilized.”
“While you can go where you will,” Gurney said
“It’s a tactic I learned from you,” Paul Said. “They’ve lost the initiative, which means they’ve lost the war.”
Gurney smiled, a slow, knowing expression.
“Our enemy is exactly where I want him to be,” Paul Said

Dune was written in 1965 by Frank Hebert. The part of the book that this quote is from is called “Prophet”. Appropriate, wouldn’t you say?

Actually, what my post is about has less to do than how we got here, or shoulda/coulda/woulda, or the reality that someone who voted "present" more often than voting a straight up yes/no can't seem to make a decision, than the fact that tactically, and strategically, it's a mistake to think that we can protect certain "hard points", give up the rest of the countryside to the enemy, and think that we can secure a victory by dropping bombs from 30K feet.

Can anyone say Vietnam?

My point here is that we need to be out in the countryside, engaging the enemy in his house, taking away his sanctuaries, and eliminating his safe areas. Gee, does this sound like any other recent military actions that have been wildly successful for us? Hmmmm, let me see....How short our memory is.

Obama is running so hard from Bush, and blaming him for everything under the sun, that he and all of his Rhodes scholars can't see the lesson plan to victory right in front of them.

I thought that the key to being s successful politician was stealing other people's good ideas, calling them your own, and taking all of the credit for them. Maybe that's not how they do it in Chicago. Too bad. I may not be a smart man, but I know a smart idea when I see it.

In any event, back in 1965, as the Vietnam war was ramping up, Herbert wrote a story, and part of the story included a successful guerrilla campaign. We ignored the lesson then, and we're about to ignore it again. BTW, what's that old line about history repeating itself?

The medical experts say

2009-10-07T15:53:00.001-04:00

That to make sure your hands are clean after going to the bathroom, you should wash with soap and water for the length of time it takes to sing Happy Birthday to yourself.

Well, after getting stared at for the last three days in our corporate bathroom, I’ve decided to screw that bullshit and go back to living with bacteria.

And I won’t even tell you what the gay guy said to me…

Afghanistan

2009-10-05T16:10:00.000-04:00

Here’s my two cents on this issue, in case any of you were sitting around with baited breath, wondering where I stand.

If the POTUS actually takes advice from VP Biden, then, in my humble opinion, a) Obama truly is a stupendous, craven idiot, and b) we’re fucked. Joe Biden is an idiot and most of what spews forth from his pie hole should make reasonable men and women blanch.

National Security Advisor James Jones is covering his ass and his boss’s ass by criticizing McChrystal over the weekend. The quote attributed to him “Ideally, it’s better for military advice to come up through the chain of command” completely ignores the fact that McChrystal’s report was delivered weeks ago, but the White House has pushed it back and kept it tied up at the Pentagon. At least Bush had the decency to meet face to face with Petraeus when he “delivered” his report. Obama would do well to stop listening to his advisers, who are more concerned with politics and Obama’s popularity in the polls, then actually winning in AF.

Michael Yon, who I respect, speaks highly of SecDef Gates, so I’ve come to listen to what Gates has to say. When he says that advisers need to speak “candidly but privately” on strategy, hopefully that’s what happened on Air Force One when Obama and McChrystal spoke last weekend.

Why can the Obama’s jet over to Europe to try to get the Olympics for us, but he can’t get his ass over to AF to see what’s going on over there? Why, during the last week, was there more emphasis place on getting an over-priced sporting event for the US, when our men and women are dying in foreign lands and 300,000 +/- people lost their jobs in September? At least Clinton understood “it’s the economy, stupid”. I guess Obama’s too nuanced to boil anything down to such simplistic terms.

I really like this statistic that people are so fond of tossing around now “..violence levels up to 60 percent from a year ago”. Did anyone happen to adjust for the fact that we have about twice as many people in country now as we did last year? Or the fact that we’ve been taking a more aggressive approach to the enemy, moving into enemy controlled areas and engaging them on their turf? Oh no, nobody would want to actually put that much though into what’s driving the numbers. It’s like turning up the heat in your house, and then complaining that it’s hotter inside. Duh. And you guys are supposed to be the scholars running the place now? Right.

On that same line of reasoning, did anyone take into account that, quite possibly, the enemy, knowing our plans, and our weak, yellow belly underside, has taken a more aggressive approach themselves this past summer? Trying to turn our own public opinion against us? Hmmm, did anyone think that though?

What I read about coming from the administration makes me want to puke. Here’s the difference between the two administrations. Obama is having “a series of meeting to consider options for the eight-year-old war, in the face of rising casualties and souring public opinion”. Two years ago, the public pressure on the White House was so much more intense than it is now, and you couldn’t find anyone that thought we should send more troops into Iraq. Except Bush and Petraeus. Bush had two options, cut & run, or double down and send in more troops.

As the saying goes “the rest is history”. What history is Obama going to write? And how will history view the differences between these two men, and who will eventually be viewed as the better leader and President?

How to bribe auditors in 2009

2009-10-05T10:38:00.000-04:00

We had our internal auditors in this week.

During their visit, they told me that during a spasm of cost cutting, Corporate IT took away all of the desktop printers that were scattered around in the office, and forced everyone to print to three central machines.

There’s 60 people in our corporate office. In order to save money on toner, some idiot thought it was more efficient to make everyone get up and walk to some central printing station, than to have 20 printers scattered around the office that you have to purchase toner for.

They also pulled the printers for our COO, CFO, US President and corporate counsel. I’d like to see the cost benefit analysis for that one, personally.

In any event, back to the story. I get along well with the auditors. We have everything organized for them when they arrive, we take them to lunch & dinner and we actually treat them like humans.

So after they left, I sent them this e-mail:

Hey Guys:

It was great having you up here.

Not to influence the outcome of the audit, but let’s just say that if the audit report is “favorable”, a certain something (see attached), could “show up” at your desk, with some back-door IT support to get it hooked up.

Just saying, you know? Just, ah, discussing “hypothetical scenarios” and all that.

Mike

It’s a sad, sad day when the target of your audit isn’t trying to bribe you with sex, booze, money or drugs, but instead with desktop printers. What has this mad world come to?

Watch your first step...

2009-09-28T10:06:00.000-04:00

This is from Michael Yon - http://www.michaelyon-online.com/pedros.htm

I think, personally, if you really want to know what's going on "over there", you should read Michael Yon every time he posts something. And in between his posts, read Michael Totten - http://www.michaeltotten.com/

Of course, I don't think these guys are brilliant because we share the same first name, but that doesn't hurt.

I hope ya'll are doing well. I'd love to spend more time with you, but we're busy, busy busy at work.

See ya.

I'll be your DD

2009-09-22T10:41:00.000-04:00

http://textsfromlastnight.com/view/53078

(812): She kept calling me her DD, which I assumed meant designated driver, so I was confused because I don't even have a car. Found out later it means designated dick. It's what her and her friends use as code for the guy they want to hook up with at the end of the night. I feel so used.

Cheerleading & body odor. What more could go wrong with my weekend?

2009-09-08T12:35:00.000-04:00

Our daughter is a cheerleader in the local youth football program. We’ve been involved with this program for a while, so, you know, I’m pretty jaded with the whole thing. Been there, done that, got the pomp pomps, as it were.

When the football team scores (in this instance, when they carry the football across the line.) the cheerleaders have this cheer that they do, encouraging the virile young men onto more heroic efforts so they can “score” more. I said to my wife later that it’s really kind of amazing how we, as adults, sub-consciously reinforce stereotypical, metaphor laden behavior on our kids at such an early age.

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about today.

So, anyway, after this cheer, the cheerleaders typically do jumping jacks for each point the team has scored. If they score is 14, they do 14 jumping jack and if the football team scores again (and makes the extra point), then the girls do 21 more jumping jacks. And so on and so on.

Late in the third quarter, our team scores again, raising its’ point total to 28. So, with the girls having done 42 jumping jacks already, the over-energetic mothers leading the group decided to give the girls a break, and have them do some other form of celebratory calisthenics. What did they choose? Sit ups.

That’s right, the moms decided to have approximately 18 middle school girls, in skirts, lay down on the track, point their feet at the young hormonal boys on the field, and crank out 28 sit ups.

WTF.

Sometimes, we all have brilliant ideas that really shouldn’t see the light of day, you know? Even for jaded old me, this really took on way too much sexual over-tones. I was expecting the girls to chant out with each sit-up “Hey boys, how about scoring some more!” Why blame the internet and TV for corrupting our youth, when we do it to them ourselves?

Let’s move on, shall we?

On Monday, I took the kids to an amusement park that’s about an hour away. The park has a bunch of roller coasters that they kids wanted to scare themselves silly on before school started today.

At each of the rides they have a bar that kids have to be taller than to ride the ride. I’m sure you’ve all seen something similar to this.

I was wondering if we could have amusement parks start to install scratch & sniff signs that say “If you body odor stinks more than this, you cannot ride the ride”. Or better yet, can we have this at the park entrances, so our fellow BO enabled citizens can just be denied entry to the park? Is this really asking that much?

Look, after riding five roller coasters, chocking down some corn dogs and fried dough, the last thing my highly agitated stomach wants to experience is the noxious fumes emanating from your body. Why can't people add “take a shower” on that pre-trip list that they have before leaving their houses? Is it so much to ask? Hello? I work at a landfill and some of you people stink more than that place. OMG.

So, how was your weekend?

I’ve started to wonder

2009-09-08T12:34:00.001-04:00

That, when I die, and (hopefully) go to heaven, as I stand before the pearly gates, Saint Peter is going to look me in the eye and say:

“You know all of those chain e-mails you deleted that promised good luck? Bad idea, buddy, bad, bad idea deleting those.”

Questions for the Oracle

2009-08-21T12:54:00.000-04:00

I know that a lot of people think that they are weird. That we all believe that we have strange thoughts that nobody else has, and that if we express these thoughts and desires, we’ll be labeled as freaks and outcasts.

Thank God for the internet so all of us freaks can band together now, eh?

Please let that first paragraph be a warning, a cautionary tale that the following, which has been rolling around in my head these last few days, certainly goes under the weird category. Now would be a good time to leave and go wash the cat, or something like that.

So, now that everyone has left, here I go:

I was wondering the other day about the fact that I eat a lot of food that has color to it. Lots and lots of color. I’ll spare you a breakdown of my diet, but sufficient it to say, it’s got color to it.
But, when it all that stuff comes out, it’s brown.

Like, where did all that color go to? Is it backing up, somewhere in my colon, waiting to burst out? Am I going to shit a huge rainbow some day, like a cascade of skittles shooting out of my ass?

Inquiring minds want to know….

Under the tree and dreaming

2009-08-19T11:59:00.000-04:00

If you knew what the future held, would you can your actions now? If you knew for certain that 10 – 12 years now, your actions today would lead to heart break and loss, would you still do what you’re about to do?

Unfortunately, when it comes to pets, I never seem to change my ways. Some things never change.

About 12 years ago, our first dog was getting sick. We really didn’t know it at the time, our lives were kind of busy, you know? We had three small kids, my father had died a few months earlier, and right about at this time of the year, I was diagnosed with skin cancer on my nose. Life was happening and we were caught up in the swirls and eddy’s of its’ current.

Shelby was “our” first dog, the first “life” that joined our little family way back when. She was our first baby, the one that helped up begin to understand how to work together as a couple, the first stressor that was going to determine if we were going to make it together as a couple, or split apart at some time in the future. With our 20th anniversary this October, I’d guess it’s safe to say that we learned our lessons well from Shelby. She was such a great dog.

Back to the narrative. So there we were, completely unaware of what our future held, unaware that our beautiful, 9 year old dog was already dying, and would be gone as the new year started.
We had listed out house earlier in the year, to move across town and be closer to my wife’s family. And, as life would have it, when the changes in Shelby became so noticeable and the visits to the vets started, somebody became interested in our house. In the same week where they vets said that they had no idea what was wrong with Sierra, and they could only comfort her, we received the long coveted offer on our house.

With 20 days to Christmas, we accepted the offer and had to be out by the end of January. At this point, the kids were asking why we were letting Shelby eat out of our hands, and why Daddy had to carry her outside to go potty. My kids, who, at that time were 6, 5 & 1,hadn’t really known my Dad, so his passing really wasn’t a traumatic event. But they knew Shelby, the one they laid on when watching TV, the one who ate the food from their plates when Mommy & Daddy weren’t watching, the one who ran around the yard with them and swam in the pool with them. And they knew something was wrong.

Christmas came and passed, the new year approached, and the time came. My wife and I looked at each other and knew, without words, that the deed, which I had never had to do before (that’s what parents are for, don’t you know?), needed to be done.

On the third day of the new year, I packed Shelby into the car for her last ride. I couldn’t see very well, as I was crying and sobbing. It’s hard to comfort your wife, who’s crying like you’ve never seen, when you cannot even see her through your own tears. I remember sitting on the floor in the vet’s office, as Shelby’s life faded away, racked by guilt for having done what I just did, being powerless to stop life and nature, and for the first time as a Dad, by not being able to make things right.

We still have her picture on our fridge.

During the orgy of activity during the next 30 days, as we packed up one house, closed and moved into a new one, we decided that we wanted to get another dog. See, we had already had two, when we got Dakota to be Shelby’s companion. And now, with Dakota moping around the house, we knew we needed to get him a companion as well. I guess once your house reaches some sort of critical mass of children, adults, cats, dogs, hermit crabs, fish, guinea pigs, etc. etc., there’s always room for one more, right?

So, even while we were unpacking boxes, getting the kids settled in their new school, dealing with changing commutes, her family stopping over ALL the time (is this why we moved? So your Dad could stop over EVERY night?), my industrious wife got busy on the internet and started finding another dog.

In hindsight, I can’t remember which arrived at the house first, Shelby’s ashes, or our new bundle of joy, Sierra. Sierra was what puppies are, concentrated joy and fun, a perfect mental cleansing for the loss that we were still feeling. Dakota took right to her, the kids loved her and the cats, well, at least they didn’t kill her. Cats my rule dogs, but cats are definitely shit scared of puppies, I’ll tell you that.

In any event, let’s fast forward a few years, shall we? During those years the kids grew up, my middle grew thicker, and we acquired more and more pets (at least it seems that way to me).
A few years ago Dakota passed away as well. He was a fucking great dog. I’ve loved all of my dogs, but there will always be a special place for Dakota. But, I’ve written about him before, and now is the time for Sierra.

The end Sierra is close. We’ve been to the vets twice in the last 20 days, and over $800 later, they really don’t have any idea what’s wrong. It’s so frustrating. You want to do something for this poor animal, this constant companion of yours, but nothing seems to work.

My father was a doctor, and he always told me that medicine was “60% science, 20% experience and 10% guess work / luck”. It’s that 10% that isn’t working for Sierra right now.

We’re all upset about it, and it’s so different than in the past. The kids, if I can even call our oldest two that any more, are upset. Our son came home from work last night, sat down next to Sierra and balled his eyes out for 10 minutes. The girls have been crying and even their friends have been crying. My wife’s best friend, who doesn’t like our dogs at all, called and said that her husband was upset as well, saying “that’s the only one of the pack that I liked”.

At the vets yesterday, the Doctor was going through some possible scenarios of what could be wrong with Sierra. While we were talking, all I could think about was that this was the same room where 12 years before, I had cradled Shelby in my arms as her life fled from her, and how the next room over was where I stared into Dakota’s eyes as all of his pain finally left him. I’m still racked by the guilt of telling the vets to go ahead with those injections, knowing that I was the one that started the process that ended my dog’s life.

The vet’s belief is that Sierra has a tumor somewhere that will rupture, causing her to bleed to death internally. He says to us “you never know, she could be resting in your house, or outside under a tree, sleeping, and just pass away, without any pain”.

Selfishly, that sounds like a good plan to me.

The lameness of being me

2009-08-10T11:12:00.000-04:00

So, the other night, I’m having this dream.

And it was a good dream, because it combined two of my favorite dream topics, sex with strange women, and adventures. See, usually, the two don’t cross paths in my dreams. It’s either sex, or the world is coming to the end. And, usually, since I’m running for my life as the world comes to an end, it’s one of the few times that I’m actually not thinking about sex.

I’m not really sure what it is about blood chilling terror that makes Mr. Winky shrivel up, but hey, it’s the dream world, so we’ve got to go with what we’ve got.

So, anyway, back to the good stuff. We’re on a dark, subterranean river somewhere, on kind of this pleasure barge, when Ms. Cleopatra-look-alike is about to allow me to sample some of her forbidden fruit, as the saying goes. In the background some music starts up, and as I raise her silken robes, I notice what song is playing.

It’s “time” by Pink Floyd, the current mental music plaque of my brain. You know, one of those songs you can’t get enough of, but they keep running around and around and around and around…

I remember very clearly (in the dream) lifting my head up and saying “I love that song…”
And thus ended yet another perfect dream, as I crashed back into reality thinking to myself “who listens to “time” when they’re having sex…?” Well, nobody does, you ninny.

Noticing that I twitched or something as I woke, the dogs jumped up on the bed and loomed over me, insisting to go out. And thus ended the dream, and the tantalizing promises that it held, for the cold reality of the early day. I really need to get my subconscious under control, one of these days…

‘Tards and their blackberrys

2009-07-29T12:44:00.000-04:00

This was an e-mail send to me by our local IT support person:

Read the BOLD response below. This response is to a Blackberry user down South who could NOT get emails to work on the Blackberry...

And this was the forwarded note from our internal help desk:

Aaron,
When sending an email from your handheld device you must first add the address of the addressee for the device to work properly.
Let me know if there is something else I can assist you with.

Appearently, Mr. Southern Woodchuck didn't realize that the blackberry didn't come with ESP and couldn't figure out on it's own who the 'tard was trying to e-mail. Technology these days...

If all the world's a stage,

2009-07-23T06:34:00.000-04:00

Can I charge you admission?

Hey, let’s stop building subs too!

2009-07-22T10:50:00.000-04:00

And now, a brief discussion on something that most of you aren’t even paying any attention to.

Recently, the Senate voted to stop funding for the purchase of any more F-22 fighter jets. Apparently, President Obama, SecDef Gates, the Pentagon and a bunch of other “really smart” people decided that we’re not going to need any more of these jets. Suddenly, in a temporary moment of “fiscal responsibility” they all want to save $1.75 billion and not purchase any more planes. One of the excuses that they are using is that since the F-22 “has not been used in Iraq or Afghanistan” it’s a weapon system that has outlived its usefulness.

So, uh, based upon this reasoning, should we stop building submarines? I mean, I’m pretty sure that we haven’t used any subs in Afghanistan, since it’s a completely land locked country. What about antimissile weapon systems? Or what about nuclear bombs, ICBMs, destroyers, cruisers and all of the other major weapons that we haven’t been able to “use” over the last 8 years? Should we scrap all of these weapon systems as well?

I mean, really, what a bunch of idiots.

It is said that the F-22 is the most advanced air to air superiority fighter ever built in the world. Period. The F-22 is so good, that it kicks our own planes asses every time. They’ve actually run war games where they completely stack the deck against the F-22, 10 to 1 odds, come up with crazy rules of engagement that would never happen in reality, and the F-22 has crushed the best that we can throw at it. It is so good, that in the war games, only one F-22 was ever “lost”, and that’s because the other plane ran away outside of the war game, snuck back in and “killed” the F-22.

The F-22 is so advanced, that we won’t even sell it to Japan or Israeli. Hello? We sell Israeli everything, but we’re not going to sell them this, because it would tip the balance of power in the Middle East. If Israeli had these planes, they could bomb Iran, and we might not be able to stop them. The planes are that good.

And what about that whole fiscal responsibility thing? Here’s what the Wall Street Journal has to say about that :

“Credit $1.75 billion in savings, or a third of a percentage point of the overall 2010 defense request. Only a couple of trillion more, and Mr. Obama will have a balanced budget.”

It is said that air superiority is what helped us win WWII. It’s also allowed us to operate at will in Iraq and Afghanistan. But, it’s said that you’re always fighting the last war. Hopefully, when the next war comes around, our enemies will be helpful enough and not try to challenge us for control of the sky.

What's for dinner?

2009-07-21T10:30:00.000-04:00

At our daughter’s graduation party, one of our friends was doing the cooking for us. We’d asked him to, since he’s the only one that we know that has a $7,000 smoker that he trails around behind his truck. This smoker is crazy. He had it built in Texas, which, I guess, makes sense, because where else would you get a smoker that’s so large it needs it own trailer.

And the smoker is some weird sort of dude magnet as well. As people showed up for the party, inevitably, as guys walked in to the back yard, they’d look at the smoker and ask “Oh my god, what is that?”. Like clockwork, I’d have to walk them over, introduce them to our friend, Mr. Tucci, and they’d proceed to pester him like little kids for the next half hour. It was kind of the “ooooh-bright-shiny-object” thing that happens to guys, but in this case is was big, rusting, belching smoke and the smells coming out of it made your mouth water.

Mr. Tucci, who’s been a friend of ours for a few years, can cook. I mean, for Upstate NY, as far a barbeque goes, this shit was to die for. Now, Mr. Tucci lived in Texas for a few years, which is where I think he got his barbequing chops from. So, before any of you Southerners “git yer fur all up in a dander” and start mutter things like “y’all damn Yankees don’t know shit ‘bout barbeque”, settle down there Hoss. Tucci had come over to our house the day before, to start marinating all the meat. You know someone is serious about protecting his “recipe” when he takes all of the garbage back home with him, so no one can rummage through it and steal his secrets.

So anyway…

We’re in the back yard with Tucci, before we leave for the graduation ceremony. The dogs are running wild all over the place, the smell of the smoking ribs and chicken driving them crazy. We were telling Tucci that he could put the dogs in while we were gone, if they were too much of a problem. Tucci replied “No, I love animals. They won’t be a problem. Did I ever tell you that I’ve traveled to Korea?”

We looked at him, and the strange turn in the conversation. “No, you never did”

He says to us “Yea, and one day we were traveling from Soule to another city were the customer had a factory. And all along the road, at every little town, there were cages of cats and dogs along the road”

He continued "I said to my guide “Hey, that’s great, you guys have pets everywhere” And my guide turned to me and said (Tucci said this in his best oriental voice) “Oh, no, Mr. Tucci, that’s what’s for dinner”.

Everybody groaned and felt sick. I looked at Tucci and said “you know, I’m counting the pets when I get back, right?”

I'm a sinner, she's a sinner, wouldn't you like to be a sinner too?

2009-07-07T11:42:00.000-04:00

For disclosure purposes, let me start off my saying that I like Sarah Palin. A lot. For a lot of reasons. The least of which is how she looks.

That being said, over the last 10 months or so, I’ve grown tired of defending her. Defending her to my wife (who, over time, has become a tentative supporter of her, to my surprise), defending her at work, and defending her to my Scottish brother in law.

And Colin, if you ever read this, I still think you’re full of shit about supporting the media’s right to attach Palin’s daughter. I wouldn’t want anyone attacking my daughter, regardless of what mistakes she may or may not have made, and I certainly would support anyone attacking your daughter. That whole treat other how you’d like to be treated crap, that your atheist ass doesn’t seem to understand.

Anyway, back on topic.

So, when I say the article below on the web, I thought, “great, another fucking attack”, but the title just drew me in. I mean, I just had to see how some wacko leftist from Politico was going to say that Sarah Palin sinned. So I read it.

And I was pleasantly surprised. And I like Roger Simon’s take on Palin’s resignation and the “repercussions” that it’s going to have.

So I decided to share it with you, since I don’t seem to have much to say these days. But more on that later. So, without further adieu, here you go…

http://news.yahoo.com/s/politico/20090707/pl_politico/24606

The sins of Sarah Palin

Sarah Palin is a sinner. She has violated several commandments and thoroughly deserves the savage beating that she is now getting from political mandarins and media elites.

If it were not for one simple fact, I would say she was through in politics. And that fact is that if the Republicans were picking a nominee today, they would pick Sarah Palin.

No? Don’t believe me? Who would beat her? Tim Pawlenty? Bobby Jindal? Haley Barbour? Mike Huckabee? Mitt Romney?

All of these men might build credible, attractive, even powerful political operations by 2012. But right now? Today? Today, Sarah Palin would be the winner, because more than anyone else, she has won over the hearts and minds of the Republican rank and file. (And tell me that a Sarah Palin-Newt Gingrich ticket would not set conservative hearts aflutter.)

She has done this by sinning, however. Let us list just some of the political commandments she has recently violated:

Thou shalt not surprise the media.

Palin announces she is quitting her job as governor of Alaska, and she catches everybody by surprise. What is up with that?

Where were the leaks and the trial balloons? Why weren’t the media alerted so they could have predicted it?

When you do what the media have predicted, you are “savvy.” You are a “skilled” and “adept” politician.

If you surprise the media, however, you are “out of control” and “bizarre” and even “egotistical.” (Though I have always believed that accusing politicians of being egotistical is like accusing ballerinas of dancing on their toes.)

How badly do some in the media take to surprise? Here is CNN’s Rick Sanchez on Palin’s announcement that she was leaving office prematurely. “Is there anything going on with her that perhaps may lead her to want to make this decision, and the one thing that’s still left out there is, hey, could she be pregnant again?” Sanchez asked.

Could be, Rick. Or maybe it was just her time of month, because, hey, that’s why woman politicians make the decisions they do, right?

But you can see why some in the media were shocked and dismayed. Imagine abandoning your office! Imagine quitting and deserting the voters who elected you!

Though this is what Bob Dole did in 1996, didn’t he? Dole resigned his Senate seat to run for president. I remember it. I was standing right there when he did it. And I don’t recall anybody accusing him of being a quitter. Or of being pregnant.

Thou shalt not upset the pooh-bahs.

The Republican Party likes to nominate the next guy in line. John McCain in 2008, George W. Bush in 2000 and Bob Dole in 1996 were all the next guys in line. They had “earned” their place in the party hierarchy. (Or, in the case of George W. Bush, his father had earned it for him.)
Today, it is hard to see who the next guy in line is, but the party mandarins, the pooh-bahs, are agreed on one thing: Sarah Palin ain’t it.

She is a dumb hick, a nobody from nowhere. She hunts moose with a chainsaw from the back of a snowmobile or something. Just listen to her resignation speech. It was not slick or polished or written by somebody else. She appeared to deliver it off the top of her head as if she were a real person. What a doofus!

Doesn’t she know that the highest form of political communication today is to exactly regurgitate a speech written for you by a speechwriter who has crafted, vetted and polled every phrase, line and word?

But listen to Palin. Listen to how “rambling” and “disjointed” she is. Once upon a time in American politics, this was known as being “plain-spoken,” but that time has gone. An entire industry of political consultants has grown up to make sure politicians are never plain-spoken.
Sarah Palin does not get this. Which is to say she is not very bright. (Or else she is pregnant, in which case, I apologize.)

Thou shalt pander to the few, not speak to the many.

John Weaver, a former McCain aide, told Adam Nagourney of The New York Times that Sarah Palin now has little chance of ever becoming the party’s presidential nominee.

“Somebody has to explain to Republicans how this woman is going to expand her support base,” Weaver said. “Yes, she is the darling of a certain element of our party. But it remains to be seen — in fact, it remains rather doubtful she can grow beyond that.”

She is the “darling of a certain element” of Republicans? It seems to me that with the party collapsing to its most conservative core, that “certain element” could also be called the majority of the Republican Party.

But maybe that is not enough. It is only a “certain element” of the party that finds her energizing, fresh, tough and willing to stand up to the mandarins and the media. Clearly, Palin must “grow” beyond that base to win over ... whom? The McCain wing of the Republican Party? Find it, and maybe she can win it over.

Having said all this, I do not think Palin is being crazy like a fox. I don’t think she has planned out what she will do in 2012. I think she has quit her job, is doing what she wants to do and is reserving judgment about her future.

In doing so, she has made herself an outcast to the mandarins, the pooh-bahs and the elites.
So how can she go wrong?

Roger Simon is POLITICO's chief political columnist.

For my daughter

2009-06-20T16:55:00.001-04:00

A daughter is like a flower
She brings beauty into the world

Once upon a time, in a hospital not very far from here, our first child was born. She was a shining jewel, and the world recognized it. The heavens parted, the sun shone down, and there was peace on earth.

And then you started to cry, demanding even more attention. In hindsight, we’re not sure if you were crying because of the trauma of birth, or the fact that you didn’t have a purse yet.

Words fail when trying to capture the essence of our love for you, or to truly express how incredibly proud of you that we are. During the daily travails of life, we don’t make enough time to express all of our feelings for you, to communicate how deeply we care about you.

I am very proud of you and all that you have accomplished. I know that you have worked very hard in school and your grades reflect all of your efforts. But, in 20 years, what you are going to remember is all of the friends that you have made and the good times that you have had with them. The people around us are a reflection of ourselves, and your reflection is impressive indeed.

So, go forth and take the world by storm, knowing that we will always be here for you, supporting you and loving you.

Love,
Daddy

PS – I’ll make sure the young one moves back into her room before you come back for Thanksgiving.
PSS – I’ll also promise not to sell any of your purses on e-bay while you’re gone.

Everything Everywhere

2009-06-09T06:11:00.000-04:00

http://everything-everywhere.com/

I love this picture that Gary took. I thought that I'd plug his site and share the picture with you. This is Wadi Rum in Jordan. If you have some time to spare, I highly recommend Gary's site. It will show you parts of the world that you'll have never seen.

Please buy my widget.

2009-06-05T10:43:00.000-04:00

It’s a good widget. How do you know? Because I told you so. And you should believe that it’s a good widget, just because I’m telling you that it is.

Some people may say that my widget is exactly the same as my competitors, but it isn’t. My competitor is a bad, bad person, and while superficially, to some, it may look as those our widgets are exactly the same, they are not. He’s a bad dude and thus his widgets are bad, whereas mine are excellent, because they are from me.

There are a few true believers out there, those that understand that while my widgets may look and feel and operate exactly the same as that bad dude’s, that since they are from me, they are excellent. I appreciate these true sheep believers, and wish that there were more of you. Those of you that are not true sheep believers don’t worry, because we’ll just pass some new laws that will make your beliefs obsolete. Or, in case that isn’t possible, I’ll go on TV and tell everyone how you’re bad, bad people, that you’re standing in the way of progress and I’ll generally try to intimidate you as much as I can.

My widgets come in slightly different packaging than that bad guy. My packaging, which is eco friendly and morally superior (again, because I told you so), blows away that lame ass packaging that the other guy has. Once again, I would sincerely appreciate you not utilizing your critical thinking skills to realize that our packaging is almost exactly the same, as well as our widgets, and just accept the fact that my product is way better than that other guy, who probably hurts little bunnies in his spare time.

Biking

2009-06-05T10:42:00.000-04:00

When I was younger, I used to do a lot of mountain biking. I loved it. Since I’m also a bit of a klutz, there was some crashing and falling involved. In those days, if there wasn’t some sweating and a little blood loss involved, I really didn’t think I was trying hard enough. It’s not like I was some crazed fanatic, out there on the edge of sanity. Nope, I just had a habit of decelerating through the use of trees, rocks and the ever present ground.

But, with the arrival of the kids, my mountain biking slowed dramatically, until it got to the point where I only pulled the old girl out when we went on vacations. I really didn’t mind this so much until my brother-in-law, who has everything, started taking it up. Then the old pride kicked in and I convinced myself it was time to get back on the bike, as it were, and relive the glory of my past.

That is, until, I refreshed myself with some of the finer points of gravity and wiped out in the bike store’s parking lot. Embarrassing? Sure was. Having my teen son there with me, bending over laughing, made that point loud and clear. I also realized that the monstrous road rash(s) and blood loss really didn’t have the same cache as they did 20 years before.

After eventually purchasing a bike, my-oh-so wonderful brother in law convinced me that I needed to have these clip peddles, instead of just the regular, normal peddles. Clips give you the advantage of not having to worry about your legs flailing around during a crash. Now, instead of your feeble attempt to stick your leg out to save your life, you’re guaranteed that the first items to hit the ground are your elbows, shoulders or your head. This has the advantage of saving your bike from any serious harm during the crash, so when the ambulance pulls away, some lucky bystander now has an almost perfectly new bike to scamper off with.

So, last night, I’m out for a little road ride when I have to cross this bridge a few miles from our house. It’s kind of a back road, so there really aren’t any shoulders on the road or the bridge. Just the road, guardrails, and the four lane expressway about 35 feet below. As I’m approaching the bridge, I’m starting to realize that it’s not wide enough for me and two cars passing at the same time. Something’s going to have to give, right? Right there, out on this beautiful night, I start freaking myself out. All I can imagine is someone racing up behind me, swerving to avoid oncoming traffic, knocking me over the guard, and as I fly off to my death, they are looking at my bike going “you know, that looks like it’s in pretty good condition…”

Update from the bad parent

2009-06-05T10:41:00.000-04:00

We have a friend of ours, who happens to be the District Attorney in our county. Not just any DA, but The Man, the Big Kahuna, the dude responsible for putting people behind bars for a long, long, time. He’s really good at it, at least that’s what the statistics say, and a various bunch of nefarious defense attorneys in town.

That being said, I’ve come to believe that he may not actually know the law all that well. See, he continues to tell me that New York State still prohibits me from visiting harm upon my children, regardless of the provocation. He says that under the law there is not exemption for fathers living with “crazy teen-aged bitches”, that’s it’s just a phase, and they’ll grow out of it.

Of course, his daughters are just perfect little angels, so what does he know. He is like so many people around me, all of their kids are perfect, get excellent grades, gifted athletically, knee deep in charity work, loved by millions, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. At times it seems that I’m the only person around that has normal kids that are driving me nuts, or I’m the only one that’s talking about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. At least, I think that is the emotion that I’m feeling in between the times where I want to choke them. I think it is love, but, you know, it could also just be the absence of hunger, so I’m not really sure.

Originally, I typed a lot more to this post, but, in the end, who really cares. Let’s just say that I wish that they would hurry up and legalize pot, because I really, really need a joint right about now…

The only person I trust in Washington, DC

2009-06-05T10:40:00.000-04:00

Is Jack Bauer.

And apparently, when he's done kicking ass there, he's high-tailing it out of town to NYC, because he's come to the understanding that, as much as he'd want to, he can't kill everyone in Washington.

I'd trust Chuck Norris there as well, but Chuck has enough sense to never, ever set foot in Washington.

Hello????

2009-05-22T10:54:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, our son started working at the local driving range. He mans the cash register, gives people their buckets of balls and does a bunch of other stuff. To get to the driving range, you have to go through the club house, past the cash register and out to the range. The reverse is true when you’re done.

Last night, so he says to us, two old ladies were leaving the course, and walk right past him. Trying to be friendly, he waves to them and says “Have a good night!”

They keep on walking, not even acknowledging him.

As he recounts the story to my wife and I, he says “Well, I thought to myself, they must be a couple of assholes” (I loved how he just slipped that right in there, without even a pause,) “so I waved my hand again, and said slightly louder “Thanks for coming guys, have a good evening”

No response.

The guy next to our son, Alex, says “Don’t worry about it, they’re old so they’re probably senile”. This is why I don’t hire young guys. They’re insensitive morons.

So, even louder, our son says “Really appreciate you stopping by. Come back real soon.”

Nothing.

The ladies put their bags down, turn around, and come up to speak with Alex. With their hands and unintelligible words. They’re deaf.

Our son said one of the older guys at the counter started to laugh at him, and he just had to walk away. It had been one of those kinds of days.

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You know that spot right there…?

2009-04-06T09:18:00.000-04:00

The grumpy mood that I brought back from Tampa continued throughout the weekend. There were minor battles all weekend long, until the real kinetic action broke out between my wife, our son, and I in the middle on Sunday afternoon. It was one of those fights where you all end us saying “fine” at the same time and walk out of the room to the four corners of the compass.

Maybe, just maybe, the father of the year nomination should be put on hold for a little while.

But, Sunday was a beautiful day here. It was sunny, in the mid -50’s, with just a gentle breeze. I had accomplished all of my trivial household chores (or, at least the ones I had some temperance for), and I wanted to fly the coop. So, in an effort to bring a little harmony to the house, I offered to take my son for a bike ride, get some fresh air, and remove two of the trouble makers from our happy abode.

I strap on my fancy assed biking shorts with all of the padding in the right places, gather the bikes, throw them in the back of the car, and head down to the trail head. About 3 miles south of us is an old, abandoned single gage railroad track that has been converted to a 20 mile trail. It’s flat, it’s easy, and it’s the perfect way to start our riding season off.

Just for the record, let me state here that I am in no way considered a threat to Lance Armstrong. As a matter of fact, I generally feel as though it’s a good ride if; a) I don’t go into cardiac arrest, and b) I don’t run into anyone else, or fall down. Low goals? Sure, but then I can say I’ve achieved 100% of my goals. So all of you road bikers out there that can snap off 50 miles a day before breakfast, just hold your contempt to yourself, ok?

When we arrive at the trail, instead of heading to the west, where the trail is more tree lined, we headed to the east, to stay in the sun. It’s going great. My funk starts to lift, my son starts to talk about all the things that are bugging him, and the miles roll by. We get to the end of the trail in the next town over (about 5 miles), have a drink of water, turn around and head back.

I suddenly remembered why I always head to the west when I’m starting off. Generally, where we live, the wind in our area blows from the west to the east. When you start off heading west, you fight the wind on your outbound leg, and then it helps you along on the return trip. Now, I begin to realize, that on our first little ride of the season, we’re going to get to fight a head wind for the next five miles. Super.

Then, I remembered, how I had come to hate the riding shorts that I’m wearing. How they developed a certain knack for rubbing right there, you know, in your tender regions, when you’re a long, long way from home. And how, regardless your futile attempts to try to adjust them, they were just going to ride right up there, and rub something that really isn’t supposed to be rubbed that way, until you get off the bike. Five miles from here. In the wind.

Trust me, buy the time I got home, the grumpy, funky mood was all gone, replaced by shooting pain every time I took a step. It’s amazing how a little agony in that patch of skin that runs between here and there can clarify all of the problems in your life. I know that in exercise, the old maxim of “no pain, no gain” is used to motivate people, but how it actually applies in this situation, is evading my grasp. And now I’m starting to worry about how we’re going to remove the band aid that I put down there…

“Sidetracked by Iraq”?

2009-04-03T06:51:00.000-04:00

I’m wondering how all of the families of the US service people that have died in Iraq, are going to feel when they hear that Iraq “sidetracked” us from some big love in with Europe?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/eu_obama

“Welcomed with thunderous cheers, President Barack Obama pledged on Friday to repair damaged relations with Europe, saying the world came together following the 2001 terrorist attacks but then "we got sidetracked by Iraq."

There’s more that I’d like to address in this speech, but time is at a premium today. But I can't let this one go. I love this line of his:

"In America, there's a failure to appreciate Europe's leading role in the world," Obama said.

We’ve let Europe take the lead with Iran these past few years, and look at where it’s gotten us. Nowhere. Europe doesn’t lead. Europe wants our money, and then wants us to get the fuck out of the way. The reason why Europe (and that’s France and Germany, mainly), weren’t happy with us, is that they were circumventing the UN oil for food program in Iraq, racking up billions and billions in ill-gotten gains, and they were pissed when we cut that off.

In a month, Obama’s administration has told the Brits that they are no better than anyone else, he’s bow (bowed low, mind you) to the Saudi’s, and now he’s telling Europe he wants us to work with them to solve the world’s problems.

This must be nuance in action.

"You know how I know..."

2009-03-26T05:59:00.000-04:00

In the movie “40 year old virgin”, there’s a part where they play this game called “you know how I know you’re gay?”. A while ago, my son and I started to play this every once and while, usually driving to one sporting activity or another. Just something to pass the time and bust each other’s chops, you know? Guys being guys and all that shit.

One time, we’re really going at it, and I started to feel like he was getting the upper hand on me. Now, when he was younger, I was the kind and considerate father, always ready to let him win to boost his confidence. Not anymore. When your son, at 16 years old, is 6’ 3”, 210 lbs, and is a destructive nightmare on the hockey rink, the kid gloves are off. It’s more like survival time for the old guy against the young buck.

So, the tide was turning, and I had to come up with a game stopper to put him in his place. The chips were down, and the old man had to come through to save his pride.

As we pulled up to a stop sign, I looked both ways, and said to him “you know how I know you’re gay?”

“How” he asked.

“Because”, I replied, “In Hebrew, your first name translates as “I’m Gay”.

I started laughing my ass off as I pulled through the intersection, while he’s over there, sputtering and wheezing, finally blurting out “But you don’t even know Hebrew!”

Old Man – 1, Young Buck – 0, and balance returned to the Universe.

"Man-Caused"?

2009-03-20T07:42:00.000-04:00

Look, I understand the desire of the new administration to distance itself from the prior administration, but this is utter bullshit:

SPIEGEL: Madame Secretary, in your first testimony to the US Congress as Homeland Security Secretary you never mentioned the word "terrorism." Does Islamist terrorism suddenly no longer pose a threat to your country?

NAPOLITANO: Of course it does. I presume there is always a threat from terrorism. In my speech, although I did not use the word "terrorism," I referred to "man-caused" disasters. That is perhaps only a nuance, but it demonstrates that we want to move away from the politics of fear toward a policy of being prepared for all risks that can occur.

I mean, really, WTF, are you some kind a namby pamby idiot? Chernobyl was man caused disaster. Flying a plane full of innocent people into a skyscraper is terrorism. Call a spade a spade.

Didn’t these people learn anything from the 9-11 report and all of the mistakes identified in that report by the Clinton Administration? Hello? Napolitano, here’s a dime, time to phone home for a clue about how the real world works.

Politics of fear? And just what kind of politics was it that the current White House used to get the last two, pork laden spending packages passed? Was it the politics of a doom and gloom and a glowering President Obama?

After you, Senator

2009-03-17T10:45:00.000-04:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090317/ap_on_go_co/grassley_aig

“IOWA CITY, Iowa – Iowa Sen. Charles Grassley suggested that AIG executives should take a Japanese approach toward accepting responsibility for the collapse of the insurance giant by resigning or killing themselves.”

“"I suggest, you know, obviously, maybe they ought to be removed," Grassley said. "But I would suggest the first thing that would make me feel a little bit better toward them if they'd follow the Japanese example and come before the American people and take that deep bow and say, I'm sorry, and then either do one of two things: resign or go commit suicide.”

Excellent idea, Senator. How about this. For starters, let’s have all of the lawmakers involved with changing the laws back in the 90’s, that lead to this mess in the first place, fall on their swords. After that, if there are any loud mouth blowhards left in Washington (any blowhards left? Please, they’d all still be there, but just with more holes in them for all of that hot air to escape out of), then they can call on everyone else to follow their sterling example.

Personally, for me, this issue has jumped the shark. Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s fucking ass about the $165 million in bonuses. I’m a little more concerned with getting repaid on the $170 BILLION that the government has loaned to AIG. See, for you non-financial types, Billion(s) is/are much larger than million(s). And it’s not just because B comes before M in the alphabet. To put it in perspective, everyone is getting all pissed about $1.65, when we’ve misplaced $170. I’m not the smartest guy, but I’d be a little more concerned with getting my $170 back than my $1.65. Maybe that’s why I’m not on Wall Street.

And that’s my 2 cents for the day. Which, with $4.97, can get you a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

Adventures at the airport

2009-03-09T13:13:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning my wife says to me that “We need to pick my Dad up from the airport tonight.”

“What?” I replied, lost in my daydreams of how I was going to scam some time during the day, to play video games.

“You remember, my Dad was down in Florida this week, and they (her Dad and step mom) are flying back tonight”. I had been wondering why it was so quiet around the house this week, and now, like ripping open Mighty Karnak’s envelope, I had the answer.

Now, in this situation, when my wife uses the word “we”, which, to most of us, would indicate something along the lines of “You and I” or “You and I and a group of people”, she mean the singular we, that is, “You”, being “Me” and definitely not her. See, in this situation, “We” means that there is something that she doesn’t want to do, doesn’t want to be involved with, and that a team of Clydesdales couldn’t drag her ass to do, and that I, being oh-so-lucky to be married to her these past 20 years, am going to have the pleasure of doing in her absence.

I get this “we” thing a lot. Like “We need to go clean up the dog poop in the yard” or “We need to call your mom and ask her what POS gift she wants for whatever holiday is upon us” or “We need to go right up stairs right now and talk with “Your” son about his attitude”. Sometimes, just for fun, I’ll reply “Fine, let me know when “we” are ready to go upstairs to correct this miscreant’s attitude, because until such time, “I’ll” be sitting my ass here on this couch watching TV until “we” are ready.” I don’t pull this out too much, as I do like having my front teeth to eat with.

In any event, I didn’t have to worry about what to do with myself this Saturday evening, since I’d be spending it within the lovely confines of the Greater Rochester International Airport. Since the only international flights that actually fly out of Rochester are to Toronto, I’ve always wondered why it gets to call itself “international”. I mean isn’t that like flying to your backyard? Like, WTF, isn’t Orlando farther away than Toronto? Shouldn’t it be renamed the Greater Rochester Intra-State Airport? Or is that Inter-state? Whatever, you get my point.

So, let’s spin forward to the middle of the afternoon, when my wife and daughters are out shopping, uh, make that “stimulating the economy”, and I’m in the basement, making the universe safe for human exploitation, killing hordes of alien scum with my trusty Xbox 360 controller. During these times of bliss, I have a firm belief, that everyone in the world receives a text message to call my house. And, since, after 20 years of marriage, I’ve managed to piss off everyone in the whole family, most of these calls are for my wife. Various friends, family members, institutions for higher learning, scam artists, social organizations, etc. etc. all seem to want to get a hold of my wife, generally, when: a) she’s out of the house, and b) I’m busy. (I’m using “I’m busy” as a euphemism for a range of activities that I’d rather not talk about here in public, and you probably don’t want to hear anything more about. If you do, drop me a line, as you may be my kind of girl).

Long story short, when the phone rings, I hate answering it. Look, do you really think Alexander would have gotten so far if he’d had to stop every 20 minutes to answer the phone? No, I didn’t think so. And Napoleon wasn’t reaching in his jacket to see the latest text message that he got either. All I’m saying is all of the great leaders never had to answer phone, so when I’m up to my neck in steaming alien entrails, why should I have to?

Anyway…so there I am, “occupied”, and the phone rings. Without thinking, I answer it, with trying to maintain my all-out onslaught on those bastard, terra-hogging aliens, when, much to my surprise, I find myself talking with my aforementioned father in law. He babbles on for a while (I’m in the zone, body parts are flying all over, and I’m thinking that I’m going to have to pump up my chest for all of the medals they are going to give me) and then asks about the weather. I blithely reply that it’s raining lightly and they shouldn’t have any problems at all with their flight. Feeling slightly reassured, he thanks me for the update, and rings off.

In the long, long list of “things” that I’m woefully inadequate at, we should, at this point, add weather forecasting. We should also add a significant lack of proper regard of, and care for, people who have sever travel anxiety, especially with regards to flying in airplanes. You know, like old people that hate flying anyways, let along during storms. But, hey, we can’t all be perfect, right? C’est la vi, right?

The anointed hour arrives, and I hop into the car to take off to the airport. The first thing I noticed, with my keen powers of observation, is that it’s really, really raining hard. Like, the kind of rain you get during the summer tropical heat. And then, lo and behold, to my great surprise, lighting starts ripping across the sky. And not just one or two bolts, but flashing like the paparazzi around some young starlet. The closer I’m getting to the airport, the heavier and heavier it’s raining, I’m driving through partially submerged streets, and the lightning is like a crashing all over the place. And, just to make the whole situation a lot more fun, the wind starts howling. I’m following behind a truck that is spraying water up from the flooded road like a ship at sea, and I started laughing to myself over how utterly and completely WRONG I was with my little pep talk to my father in law. Someday, we’ll all be able to laugh at ourselves over this, right?

Eventually, I make it to the airport, park in the short term parking lot, and in the pouring rain, make my way into the terminal. Just before I reach there, my phone starts ringing. Hopping puddles, dodging taxi’s and irate travelers, I see that it’s my father-in-law, and answer the phone. The following is, as far as I can remember, and exact copy of the conversation:

“Hello?” I answered

“Michael, it’s Dick” my father in law stated. See, his name is Richard, which is what I call him. Everybody else calls him Dick. I do, at times, but usually not around him, or my wife. Of course, somebody like me, with as twisted a sense of humor that I have, would end up with a Father-In-Law named Dick. He’ll even laugh about it, telling people “He only calls me Dick when he’s pissed at me”. It’s such a thin veneer that I have.

“Hey Richard, I’m just about to enter the terminal, where are you”

“Don’t bother coming in, just circle around and we’ll find you”

“Yea, but I’m already in the terminal. Where are you?”

“Don’t come in. We’re down here at the baggage carousel, waiting for our bags. We just got in, you know.”

“yea, I know, that’s why I’m here. Which baggage carousel are you near?”

“How am I supposed to know that? Listen, don’t bother coming in, we’ll just get out bags and meet you out at the curb.”

“Look, Richard, I’m already in the building. Why don’t you tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you”.

“Don’t bother coming to me, just meet us outside.”

“But if I don’t know where you are, how am I supposed to know which curb to pull up to? Look, I’m standing in front of carousel #2, which one are your bags arriving at?”

“How am I supposed to know that? Look, let me walk outside..”

“Dick, look up at the ceiling, there are signs that tell you which carousel your bags are at.”

“Signs? I don’t see any signs. I see some sheriffs, some taxi’s, a lot of people waiting…”

“Dick, did you walk outside?”

“Yea, why?”

“I told you I was inside. Which door did you walk out?” By this time, I’m in the middle of the building, spinning around like a top, trying to see him. My father in law used to be tall, and is still over 6’ 1”, with white hair. He’s usually easy to see.

“How am I supposed to know which door I walked out? Where are you, I don’t see you”

“DICK! I told you, I’m inside the building. Do you see the yellow caution tape in the middle of the building?”

“No, how am I supposed to see that, I’m outside.”

I walked out the middle entrance doors, to see him standing there, cell phone glued to his head, staring out in the parking lot for me. If I wasn’t so pissed, I would have fallen over laughing. Because of the storm, I had to yell his name three times before he heard me. He turned around and said “Oh, there you are. Hey, let’s go get the bags.”

Classic.

Arguing on the internet is like squishing jell-o

2009-03-03T08:12:00.000-05:00

You never know where the shit is going to end up.

Mission Failure

2009-02-17T04:33:00.000-05:00

“Muzzammil Hassan, founder and CEO of Buffalo, N.Y.-based Bridges TV, which launched in 2004 with a mission to show Muslims in a more positive light”

After Hassan, 44, told police his wife was at the Bridges TV offices, in the village of Orchard Park, they found her body there, beheaded, The Buffalo News reported.

It’s been reported that Bridges TV is now considering switching to a reality TV format in order to “teach all of you infidels a lesson!”

So you’re saying what’s good for the goose, isn’t necessarily what’s good for the gander?

2009-02-02T04:53:00.000-05:00

I really do not care that Michael Phelps smoked pot.

I mentioned this to my wife this morning, as the Today show was crucifying this kid for taking a bong hit a few months ago. Actually, it wasn't so much that they were criticising him for smoking pot, it was for begin caught in a picture smoking pot.

My first mistake was interrupting the Today show. The second mistake was taking a position that was contrary to what the Today show thought. If Matt Lauer and Oprah stood hand in hand, and told everyone to jump into a flaming volcano, I’m pretty sure my family would. And why is it that Oprah can balloon up to 250 pounds, and everyone still loves her, but Jessica Simpson steps out in some size 8 jeans, and she’s called a fat cow?

But anyway, I digress.

My wife replied “Well, it doesn’t set a very good example, does it?”

I said “The last three Presidents have all done drugs. The current president has written, in a book no less, about his cocaine use. So I’m supposed to think that Michael Phelps is going to set a bad example?”

She asked “What about all those kids that look up to him as a role model?”

I said “I’d tell them that as soon as they won 8 gold medals in the Olympics, they can smoke as much pot as they want.”

And besides, this is America. We don’t really, really love you until you fall from grace and then you climb your way back up again.

Personally, I’m a little tired of

2009-01-27T05:10:00.000-05:00

Highly paid news anchors bashing CEO’s over “their” excesses.

I’m sorry, I just can’t stand watching Matt Lauer, who is making $13 million a year for about 3 hours work a day, bashing CEO’s over their egregious excesses. It’s like watching two fat men arguing over who is fatter.

My wife loves Matt Lauer, so I don’t get any traction at home with this argument. And, I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to get much traction here either, but wtf, I really don’t care. Matt Lauer is essentially a highly paid entertainer, just like a lot of athletes, and negotiated his contract during better times.

I just think that it’s galling that this guy, who really doesn’t do anything, everything is done for him and he just sits in front of a camera, repeating other people’s work, sit’s there and bashes these guys.

Maybe it’s just the Today show that I’m getting tired with. Would somebody please call up the Today show and let them know that Caroline Kennedy is not going to be the next senator from NY, and they can stop covering the story? If you want to see the bias in the media, just look at how the Today show has been covering this. The Today show has been beating this story non-stop, to the point that I’m beginning to wonder what tie that Caroline Kennedy has to the show. WTF.

So, with that, I think that the grumpy critic has said his piece, and will be moving on for now. I hope you have a good day, and if you can’t, well then, keep your misery to yourself. Nobody likes complainers.

Except, of course, when I’m complaining, then you just have to sit back and take it.

Just Wondering

2009-01-26T04:59:00.000-05:00

In the fall, our oldest daughter will be going away to college, hopefully. As part of this processes, that will result in the Light Of Our Lives actually moving out and giving us some peace and quiet, this weekend, we started applying for financial aid. Financial aid includes loans, grants, work programs, etc. etc., and in order to obtain any of this, you have to go on line and fill out a form on the FASFA web site.

As I was doing this, there was one question that struck me as kind of odd. It said

“Most male students must register with Selective Service to get federal aid. If you are male, age 18-25 and NOT registered, select “Register me.” (Q22)”

So, if you’re a female, you don’t have to register with the Selective Service, but if you’re a male, and you want money, you have to. Isn’t this sexual discrimination? In this day and age, when we have women on the battle field (and who have won awards for bravery in the face of combat), isn’t it time that women should have to register with the Selective service as well?

Not that I really care one way or the other, but I just thought it was odd to see this type of discrimination practiced by the federal government, with nary a peep from all the do-gooder liberals out there. Hmmm.

On a different note, we had a little family get together, and I was talking, once again, with my overly-liberal Scottish brother in law. We started talking about the stimulus package, and my Bro-law trotted out this nonsense “I’m against tax cuts, generally. But if we need to reduce taxes for a few years to get the economy going, I’m all for it. I say we should cut taxes 10% across the board for the next two years, to help the economy”

So, tax cuts are ok when we’re trying to stimulate the economy, but they’re not when things are going well? And just what exactly is going to happen, when in a few years the economy is going well, and all of a sudden you want to raise everyone’s taxes 10%? Is he really listening to himself? You’ve got to be kidding.

All you atheists can give up now…

2009-01-20T04:16:00.000-05:00

.. that we have proof that God exists.

What proof do we have, you ask?

Well, not only are we going to have a black man as the next President of the United States,

Not only did a plane land in the middle of a river, and everyone walked away,

But, and I hope that you’re sitting down for this,

In the exact same year, the Arizona Cardinals are going to the Super Bowl.

What further proof do you need of the existence of God?

The Run

2009-01-09T09:09:00.000-05:00

The ash from the most recent attack was slowly drifting down from the sky. It was an hour before dawn and the overcast sky seemed to smother the earth, dampening all of the noises around me.

I hurried through the side streets, the “package” firmly in tow. If it wasn’t so eerily quiet out, it would have almost been beautiful. Right out of one of those pictures from the previous century, you know the ones that I’m talking about, right? Who was that guy? Oh, yea, Norman Rockwell. Right out of a friggin Norman Rockwell Christmas painting. If only it was snow and not radioactive ash drifting down from a dead sky. If only the dead and lightless houses I passed by actually held some sort of life. If only things had been different.

I stopped at a corner, on the balls of my feet, listening to the stillness around me. I heard it and felt it long before I saw it, one of the Hunter-Killers that prowled our empty street. Then I could see the flashing lights, the probing beams, the stark contrasts thrown off by its’ blazing head lamps. If you were caught by one of the lumbering beasts it was sure death, ground to bits beneath its’ clanking wheels, or worse yet, sliced in two and left to bleed to death.

If you were caught.

I took off the other way, dragging the package after me. I knew the HK’s were not intelligent enough to pick up my tracks in the powder on the ground, so I had no worries there. But with several of them around, it was easy to lose track of them and get caught. It was easy to focus on what was behind you and run straight into the gaping maw of another.

I raced down one street and skidded around the corner, turning North. I kept up a steady pace, not panicking or wasting any effort. I wasn’t as young as I used to be, and I needed to make up for speed and endurance with cunning and patience. It sucks getting old, and it really sucks when your life now depends on your physical conditioning, when it never did before. Now I wish I had listened to my physical trainer and taken her program more seriously. If only I had spent as much time working out as trying to get in her pants…

The flashing lights and dull rumble me snapped me out of my reverie, a scant 50 yards in front of me and closing. I darted to my left, crashed through a hedgerow and crawled under a pine tree, dragging the package after me. Just as I gathered the package to my chest, getting ready to flee once again, the HK rumbled past, oblivious to my presence. Climbing out from underneath the tree and the prickly bed of needles, I said a brief prayer to my maker, thanking him for keeping smart technology out of the HK’s. Like he had anything to do with it.

A mile later, after several twist and turns, I saw the safe house. I approached from the North and paused at the edge of the road before the house. Crouching down in a drainage ditch, I looked both ways (just like momma always said!) to make sure there wasn’t anything out there. I could see the entryway to the safe house, less than 100 feet in front of me. Beckoning me, calling me with its’ sweet embrace of warmth and safety.

But I was tired, tired of dragging the package, tired of running, tired and weary of the constant struggle that our lives had become. I didn’t want to make a mistake here, give ourselves away and end everything that we had built with a careless mistake. So, listening to my mother once again, (oh how I miss her these days), I look both ways, see and hear nothing, and sprint across to the doorway and into the house.

I put the package down and begin to shed my clothes, thinking of my decontamination shower. I put my clothes in the containment structure and enter into the main room when a light snaps on……

“Hi Honey.”

“Oh, hey, what are you doing up so early?”

“I thought I would start a load of laundry before getting on the tread mill.” She bends down to rub the dog and says “How was your run?”

“Um, it was good. Nothing really to speak of…”

“I saw it was snowing out. Are the town plows out? I hate it when they don’t plow before we go to work. Like what else are they so busy with during the winter?”

As I head up the stairs she begins talking with the dog “and so how was your run with daddy today, pookie poo? You know, daddy really needs to put on your vest if you’re going to go out in this weather….”

…..I stand near the decon shower, waiting for it to spin up, when I feel the house rumble and know that an HK is grinding past, completely oblivious to our presence. But tomorrow will bring another run with the “package”, and I’ll have to stay sharp if I want to make it home again…

More Adventures In Suburbia

2009-01-06T12:07:00.000-05:00

So, just for fun, let’s summarize the last few weeks of Mike’s exciting life in Upstate NY.

Because, with three kids, three dogs, two cats, guinea pigs and frog, our house didn’t seem full enough, the weekend before Christmas, we adopted another cat. Actually, it’s a 4 month old Maine Coon rescue kitten, and it’s decided that my pillows, both day and night, are the perfect place for it to sleep. Normally, I’d joke that I like to sleep with some pussy on my pillow, this really isn’t what I had in mind.

On Christmas morning, right after opening his gifts, our son promptly began to regurgitate (vomit, toss his cookies, pray to the porcelain god, etc.) his Christmas Eve dinner and apparently everything else that he had eaten over the past several months. Talk about Christmas gifts that you’re not going to forget.

The next day we went over to my wife’s brother’s house. Because, what’s better to do when your whole family is possibly contagious with a nasty viral bug, than to go visiting relatives, right? It puts a whole new spin on that “spirit of giving” that we have during the holiday.

Our son’s high school hockey team was in a tournament the weekend after Christmas. Surprisingly, they played way over their heads and won the tournament. Very nice. It helped take the sting out of the next two games last week, which they lost, against inferior opponents. Ah, the unpredictability of youth.

The Sunday after Christmas, a wind storm struck Rochester, knocking out power all over the place. My wife and I were in the local sporting goods store, snagging some bargains, when the power started to fail. My wife had just found some seriously mismarked apparel, and was waiting in line to capitalize on the store’s mistake. That was, of course, until smoke started pouring out of one of the back store rooms

My wife was directed to immediately drop what she had and exit the store. Now, I’m sure you can imagine, to a power shopper like my wife, when clutching a mismarked jacket, there probably isn’t any phrase more hated in the English language than “drop what you have and exit the store”. She started complaining to the clerk (she was next in line, by god!) that if the previous customer hadn’t been such an idiot, my wife would have already been checked out and on her way.

Please, like we all haven’t been there, right?

The wild eyed young clerk, who, from all appearances, biggest stressor in life is if she misses latest episode of The Hills on MTV, looked at my wife and said “Uh, Madam, the store may be on fire and you’re complaining not getting checked out?” We all have different priorities, I guess.

Happily, that wasn’t our last experience with un-controlled flames and smoke for the holiday season. On New Year’s day, as we were taking down our Christmas decorations, our dryer did its’ best rendition of the Talking Head’s song “Burning Down The House”. We all thought that our youngest daughter was burning her lunch, when it turned out the dryer was burning our clothes. But, don’t fear trusty reader, a new dryer was purchased, picked up and installed before dinner the very next day. When it comes to shopping and spending money, nothing stands in our way. All I can say is that we’ve done our best to stimulate the economy, et tu?

To round off the weekend, our son’s team beat the only undefeated team in the league on Saturday (a little consistency in performance would be nice), the virus that we thought we had passed off retuned and laid a few more of us low, and our daughter received her first college acceptance letter.

We went to a wedding on Saturday, where the bride and groom were doctorial students at the University of Rochester. It was strange being at a wedding where I felt like I brought down the intelligence curve, you know? This was one of those affairs where they wrote their own vows, which, frankly, I’ve never been a big fan of, but hey, whatever floats your boat. The groom did a great job writing his vows, and talked about all of the adventures that they were going to have together during the blessed union.

I thought to myself, “Dude, you have no idea what you’re talking about”.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2009-01-02T05:39:00.000-05:00

My wife and I watched the new year’s arrival at home, but ourselves. All of our kids had been invited to parties and so we had some blessed solitude in our house for a few hours. That is, of course, if you could ignore all of our dogs and cats clambering for attention and fighting for space on the bed, we were all alone. Everything is relative, I guess.

As we were watching NBC’s coverage of the ball dropping in NYC, they showed Bill & Hillary Clinton pushing the button to start the ball’s descent. Once the new year started, the NBC showed the Clintons again, dancing away amid the confetti and hoopla, seemingly oblivious to everything around them.

I said to my wife “Exactly one year ago, Hillary Clinton was the Democratic front runner, and to many, the presumed next President of the United States. It’s amazing what can happen in a year.”

I can’t wait to see what 2009 brings.

Notes from the edge of Suburbia, Part 2

2008-12-16T12:28:00.000-05:00

I can't find if I copied this over from my 360 page or not. If I have, and you've already read this, sorry. If not, have at it. And yes, all of the basic facts in this are true, and happend last year.

I’m beginning to hate

a lot about Christmas…

Puppies and Christmas Trees – A primer

Now, of course, with a title like that, I’m sure that we could all expect a lot of laughs and giggles at the high jinks happening in our house, right? I mean, really, what could be more fun than a rambunctious puppy, a teetering / tottering Christmas tree and hundreds of family heirlooms hung with care from the branches of a dying evergreen tree? Sounds like some stupid Chevy Chase movie, right? Well, not exactly. All you happy suburbanites, please take note of this following tale of woe.

Last evening we’re all sitting around in the house in the Christmas mood. That is to say, we were all pissed off at each other. What? Like this is any different than your house the week before Christmas.

Our tree is set up in our living room, in front of the big bay windows. We do this to make it easier for the home invaders to figure out which room to break into. We like to think of it as that giving spirit that we’re all supposed to be infused with at this time of the year. We give our money to the stores, the “downtrodden” break into our house to steal gifts to feed their drug problems and the insurance companies give us money back for those gifts we really didn't want in the first place. It's the Christmas Circle of Life, or something like that.

Anyway…

My wife and I are in the family room and she’s reading to me the latest honey dripping, lovey dovey e-mail that women seem to like passing around at this time of the year. I’m on my work laptop, surreptitiously trying to surf for porn. What? You really think your husband's looking up his stocks on a Saturday night? Pa-lease. He's trying to find pictures of Santa's naughty helpers wearing thigh high red fishnet stockings and who are doing things with an oversized candy cane which will certianly land her on the naughty list. Those are the kind of elves we like.

Where was I? Oh, yea, the dog.

All of a sudden, without any warning, the puppy starts yelping and howling and comes bolting out of the living room. He's running so fast I think his ass is in front of his face, like in the cartoons. Before we can get out of the lazy chair, he’s high tailed it down into the basement and is hiding behind a couch down there, shaking and quivering like a leaf in a wind storm.

Being a loving family, we all rush down and crowd around him to try to figure out what’s wrong. There’s no blood, nothing broken, nothing jagged, there is nothing lodged in his paws or in his mouth, so it’s kind of a mystery as to what happened. After a few minutes, I head up to the tree to see that could have happened.

As I’m up there, my youngest daughter and her friend come back into the room to watch TV again. I asked her if she knew what happened, and she replied “no, he was just under the tree”.

I looked under the tree and I don’t see anything. I’m still looking around and she mentions she had just cleaned up one of the bulbs that he had gotten a hold of. You mean one of the ornaments?, I aked.

No, one of the light bulbs, she answers, a little ticked off. I guess I was interrupting whatever critical show was on TV at that point. Well excuse me.

I start looking at the bottom of the tree, when I noticed one of the light sockets was missing a bulb. Actually, on this strand of bulbs, there were five or six sockets that were missing bulbs.

And then I found it. A wet, empty socket on the strand of lights, that had the power on.

The stupid fucking dog almost electrocuted himself right under the Christmas tree. Now that would have been a Christmas that we would all remember!

I promptly announced my findings to the rest of the family, at which point they all started to fuss over our Not-Going-To-Make-It-To-His-First-Birthday-If-He-Keeps-This-Shit-Up puppy.

With the need for my keep powers of observation past, I returned to my lazy-boy, grabbed my beer and returned to surfing the net for porn.

Ahh, who doesn’t love the Christmas season.

Subversion-*

2008-12-16T09:56:00.000-05:00

*-At least as subversive as a middle class white guy from the suburbs can get

Recently, I’ve been thinking about all of those electronic signatures I’ve been leaving all over the place, when I’m using my debit/credit card. You know, when you’re checking out and you’re asked to “Sign Here” on that little electronic pad? Then you click “accept” and then the store has permission to pull some outrageous amount out of your checking account for some over-priced doodad that you probably didn’t need in the first place.

I was thinking about how crazy it was that so many of my purchases are being approved with a signature that in no way shape or form matches my real signature. Not that my real signature is any gem to start with, and if I can do it twice in a row the same way, I’m pretty proud of myself. Now these stores are asking for my written approval for purchases on some device that is cramped, placed at screwy angels and the end product looks like it was scratched out on one of those etch-a-sketch’s that I had growing up. Really. I mean, like, this crap is going to be any definitive proof that I actually signed and approved the purchase, right?

So, in my own little rebellion against the man, I’ve stopped writing my name on these devices. I’ve started writing “Hi Mom”, “I didn’t approve this”, “Donkey Kong”, “Obama’s Mama”, and the ever popular “Yea Baby!”. Sometimes, I’m expecting some mall security types to come charging around the corner, a donut in one hand and an oversized Motorola radio in the other, ready to give hot pursuit to the latest miscreant. Other times, I’ll feel a little weird, or, even worse, I’ll start giggling to myself, which leads the typical store clerk to look at me like I am a little weird. Usually, nothing happens and the world moves on.

This weekend, I was in Sephora, with my youngest daughter, finishing up our holiday shopping. After standing in line for 20 minutes, to purchase yet another product for my wife (which I really don’t think that she needs, but, what do I know. At least that’s what she tells me), we were laughing and having a good time, when the next robo clerk asked us to step up to the counter.

On a side note, shouldn’t the last place that a store asks you if you found everything, be at the checkout counter? Shouldn’t you have helped me out prior to this point, so I’d be spending more of my hard earned cash in your store? And, if I didn’t find everything I wanted, and your service was so poor that it didn’t help me until up to this point, do you really think I’m interested in jumping out of line, tying to find something all over again, and getting back in line? Maybe you should ask that questions before I’ve decided to leave your store? Eh, what do I know.

Anyway…

So, this overly attractive and perfectly made-up young lady proceeded to process our order, and it came time to sign in the box. Feeling a little full of myself, I wrote “I’m the Man!” and clicked accept. I put my card away and looked up to see her staring at her screen, and starting to laugh. In a panic, I asked “Did you see that?”

She replied “Yes, and it was pretty funny. Come to think of it, I don’t think there is anything I could do about it if I wanted to, so have yourself a good afternoon”.

It’s a great day when you can stick it to the man, and have a good laugh about it.

Jennifer Aniston is hot.

2008-12-12T11:07:00.000-05:00

2008 Performance Review

2008-12-12T11:05:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again, yes, it's performance review time. So, when my boss sent down this form, which he's supposed to fill out, for me to complete, well, I thought I'd have a little fun.

So what do you think?

What are the Employee’s Strengths?

1 Ask the bitches. They'll tell ya!

2 If you have to ask, you're not man enough to understand.

3 To give you an idea, Lionel Richie wrote that "All Night Long" song about me.

4 Rollin wid my homies and poppin caps in yo ass!

What are the Areas of Improvement?

1 Can only satisfy four (4) bitches at one time.

2 Sometimes I have to call the cops, when my crew starts rollin hard.

3 You think you can improve on this? Word!

4 I'll try not to leave YO MAMA at the curb tonight when I'm done wit her!

Proposed and Agreed Action Plan to Improve Weaknesses

1 Stop being selfish and let some of my crew in on the action wid all dez Ho's!

2 Fizzle my nizzle. Fo shizzle

3 Nuf said! Out!

4 Word.

My wife nagged and nagged at me to put up the Christmas lights.

2008-12-10T06:44:00.000-05:00

Well, I finally got them up and NOW she won't talk to me!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Car Czar? Why not, that whole drug czar worked out so well...

2008-12-09T05:17:00.000-05:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081209/ap_on_go_co/congress_autos

“House Speaker Nancy Pelosi said she supports the concept of a federal overseer of any rescue plan, saying she lacked confidence the heads of the car companies could solve the problem if "left to their own devices."

I’m sorry, I have a real problem with someone, who’s a leader of an institution with a 9% approval rating, calling other people poor managers. It is so galling that this lady, who, for the last year has basically blamed all of the country’s ills on the Bush administration, and yet hasn’t done anything substantive to correct any of these issues, calls to issue the management ability of auto industry leaders.

Let’s just cut all the bullshit out for a second. For the last 30 or so years, the big three have done exactly what businesses are supposed to do. They figured out what their market(s) wanted (big, fat, fuel inefficient vehicles) and made those products by the boat load so their companies did well, and people bought their stock. And, during the process, they basically supported a mini welfare state (the UAW / unions), that perpetuated an inefficient economic model (cost structure significantly higher than the competition) that eventually put them in a position where they were unable to compete on a global stage.

Making feel good, “green” hybrid cars is not going to address the root problems that Detroit is facing. Breaking and crushing the unions, devaluing automotive wages by 30% and dropping all medical care support for non-productive retirees is what has to happen to fix their problems. Everyone knows it, but is anyone going to do that?

Car czar my ass. Just another governmental agency, that isn’t going to go away after this crises is over, and then this “czar” will have the power to force the auto makers all sorts of crazy, liberal green shit in the future.

If I was the head of GM, I’d say, thanks, but no thanks. I’d take the company into bankruptcy, break the union, throw all of those over paid, blue collar democrats on the street, and then call up Pelosi and say “How do you like me now?”

Old jokes and embarrassing my son.

2008-12-01T06:33:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, I was driving home from the high school hockey game, with my son and two young girls (16+) in the car. My son had been interested in one of the girls, but my wife and I felt that she was just using him until something better came along. Due to this, my feelings towards these two girls were somewhat ambivalent. You know, I wasn’t trying to put on the “good parent” show so I wouldn’t ruin my son’s chances with these two. I was just being me, a smart ass.

As a side note, once they got out of the car, and we continued to drive home, my son confided in me that he thought that he was being used as well, and that he felt like a tool. When I asked him what he was going to do about it, he told me that the next time Jennifer asked for a ride, he was going to reply that he couldn’t because “the tool shop is closed now”. Nice. Both my wife and I laughed at this. A good come back.

So anyway, as we’re driving home, we were in a discussion about why my son just didn’t drive himself. I said that I wasn’t sure if he knew how to get the rink downtown and how to get back from it, so I decided to come along.

One of the girls said “we could have figured it out, I have mapquest in my pocket”

I must have waited a full 10 to 15 seconds, which seemed like an eternity, to see if anyone else picked up on that comment. When no one did, I slowly said

“Is that a mapquest in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Pandemonium broke out in the car. The girls were laughing, my son was shocked (shocked!) that I would have said something like and I was laughing so hard I almost had to pull over.

Later during the weekend, my wife was looking at all of the ads in the paper, and pointed out some good deals on GPS units. I told her that we really didn’t need one. When she asked why, I looked at her with a sly look on my face and said “Here, let me show you the mapquest in my pocket….”.

News Flash! Obama uses White House lavatory For Historic Crap!

2008-11-10T11:44:00.000-05:00

Did I get your attention? Sucker.

Actually, for a change, today has been a somewhat productive day. It's amazing what you can get done when you turn off Multiply. But, as usual, as the day has worn on, my mind has started to wander, and all those freaky thoughts usually kept at bay by my subconsiouse, have started to bubble forth. Now, while these may not actually be deep thoughts, they are what are bothering me today.

#1 – If we know something is going to happen, and it happens exactly the way it’s supposed to happen, is it still news? Or does this only apply when Obama is involved?

#2 – If you took a Ford sedan, and a Chevy sedan, cut them right down the middle, and you were able to weld them back into a functioning car, would it be a Ford or a Chevy? If you took an apple and an orange, cut ‘em in half and stuck them together, is it an apple or an orange? To extend this analogy a little further, let's say you took the peal from the other orange half and covered the apple side with it, so it looks like an orange. Apple or orange?

#3 – I’m pretty sure that if Jason Bourne (from the Bourne movies) and Ethan Hunt (Mission impossible) fought, Bourne would kick Eathan Hunt’s ass. I think, and again, this is just my opinion, between Bourne & James Bond, Bourne wins, by a hair. Bond will outthink Bourne, but if Bourne can close with Bond, he’ll turn Bond into his British bitch.

Now, what about Bourne & Rambo? Who wins there? Help! Inquiring minds want to know.

That’s it. Thanks for stopping by and playing. Make sure to pick up your free gift on your way out, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass.

BTW, at some point, human nature being what it is, Obama is going to have to use the “facilities” in the White House. Is this going to be a historic crap, or a holy crap?

Good News? You want some good news?

2008-11-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

You know when you have that song running around through your head?

2008-10-31T10:25:00.000-04:00

This one's been on my mind for the last few months.

Cult of Personality - Living Colour

Look into my eyes, what do you see?
Cult of personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
Ive been everything you want to be
Im the cult of personality
Like mussolini and kennedy
Im the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights, a nobel prize
The mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You dont have to follow me
Only you can set me free
I sell the things you need to be
Im the smiling face on your t.v.
Im the cult of personality
I exploit you still you love me

I tell you one and one makes three
Im the cult of personality
Like joseph stalin and gandi
Im the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights a nobel prize
A leader speaks, that leader dies
You dont have to follow me
Only you can set you free

You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You me power in your gods name
Im every person you need to be
Im the cult of personality
Look into my eyes, what do you see?
Cult of personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
Ive been everything you want to be
Im the cult of personality
Like mussolini and kennedy
Im the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights, a nobel prize
The mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You dont have to follow me
Only you can set me free
I sell the things you need to be
Im the smiling face on your t.v.
Im the cult of personality
I exploit you still you love me

I tell you one and one makes three
Im the cult of personality
Like joseph stalin and gandi
Im the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights a nobel prize
A leader speaks, that leader dies
You dont have to follow me
Only you can set you free

You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You me power in your gods name
Im every person you need to be
Im the cult of personality

My contribution to the decline of society

2008-10-28T08:20:00.000-04:00

Assicons

(_!_) a regular ass

(__!__) a fat ass

(!) a tight ass

(_*_) a sore ass

(_o_) an ass that's been around

(_x_) kiss my ass

(_X_) leave my ass alone

(_zzz_) a tired ass

(_E=mc2_) a smart ass

(_$_) Money coming out of his ass

(_?_) Dumb Ass

(_Nice_) Nice Ass

File under "Dog Bites Man" and other non-news stories

2008-10-22T10:47:00.000-04:00

It's kind of distrubing that they actually had to do a study to figure this out.

Study: McCain coverage mostly negative

The good news for John McCain? He's now receiving as much attention from the national media as his Democratic rival. The bad news? It’s overwhelmingly negative.

Just 14 percent of the stories about John McCain from the conventions through the final presidential debate were positive in tone, according to a study released today, while nearly 60 percent were negative—the least favorable coverage of any of the 4 candidates on the ticket.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/politico/20081022/pl_politico/14829

What's the next headline we're going to see? "Palin repeated mocked on SNL by flaming liberals. News at 11"?

Perspective On Life Back Home

2008-10-22T06:28:00.000-04:00

I’ve been itching to write something about the presidential race, but I’m trying really hard not to. It’s not that I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m trying to wean myself off of it for now. My assumption is that Obama is going to win, so I’m sure that I’ll have a lot to say over the next four years.

But for now, I’d like to offer a little perspective on what we’re going through, from someone who I read on a regular basis. So, without further adu, here’s Michael Yon:

http://www.michaelyon-online.com/

Traveling along the roads of Afghanistan (when there are roads) provides a different perspective on life back home. Folks in the U.S. are worried about the economy, and while I can understand that many are struggling, it’s easy to forget how much we still have. In Afghanistan, and other countries all over the world, there are many people who literally beg for their next meals.

Americans worry about who will become our next president. Despite what their opponents say, if Barack Obama is elected, he’s not going to turn the U.S. into a socialist state (at least I don’t think he will) and John McCain is not going to invade Iran (at least I don’t think he will). Even though a great deal of noise is made about ideological differences between Democrats and Republicans, it’s remarkable how much both sides agree about certain vital issues, and how stable our nation’s fundamental policies are. No matter who is elected, America will remain true to its basic values of freedom, democracy, private enterprise and public service. The change of government will occur in an orderly fashion, no bloodshed, revolutions or coups. Think about it: When this campaign is finished, either an African American man will be president or a woman will be vice president. The candidacy of Barack Obama has demonstrated how American society as a whole is NOT racist. For all the scars we have inflicted on ourselves (slavery and racism being one of the worst), our democratic society is self-healing, even if that process can be painful and slow.

We might take a moment to remind ourselves that we do not live in a land of tribal law or a place where intergenerational feuds are part of the social fabric. Look at Afghanistan. Widows abandoned and shunned. Orphans everywhere. People missing limbs from the millions of mines still dotting the landscape. Millions. Tribes and warring ethnic factions and police so corrupt they make the Mafia look like do-gooders. Taliban. HIG. Al Qaeda. And a lot more suicide bombers than Senators. (Trust me on that one.)

The people of Afghanistan are extremely friendly and welcoming. But let’s face it. They live in a world of constant struggle. Their country was already primitive, and their existence difficult enough before they became a place of conquest, civil war, and now a clash of civilizations (or, to put it more accurately, a clash between dozens of civilized countries and violent anarchy).

The woman above was begging beside the highway. And she was not the only one. I was a passenger driving through Taliban country in a pickup truck when I took her photo. Car bombs detonate on that road all the time. Americans and others die there. And this woman, covered as most women in Afghanistan whom I see are, probably a widow, was begging just beside a police checkpoint, which, sooner or later, likely will get attacked. She might get blown to pieces by a car bomb. She apparently has no money, probably no family, nowhere else to go, and no other way to live. Still, she endures.

The world economy is having its problems, but it’s going to come back sooner or later. Meanwhile, those of us in America, and throughout the west, should count our blessings. We have our families. We have governments which, for all their flaws, at least are reasonably functional, or in many cases, highly functional. We have hope. Or at least we have reason to hope.

Makin Friends

2008-10-16T06:39:00.000-04:00

Last weekend was my wife’s 25^th anniversary of her high school graduation. So, what better excuse to get together with a bunch of people, who, since the last reunion 5 years ago, you’ve been trying to avoid.

The first event of the reunion was on Friday night, and it was in a lodge, in a park near our house. Going into this, I thought that the only positive aspect of the whole evening was the fact that if I got really drunk, and made an ass of myself, I could walk home. Which, considering some of her friends, and once alcohol is mixed in, there is always the possibility that I’ll make an ass of myself. I’m not saying that I don’t care for some of her friends, but, well, let’s be honest, I really don’t care for some of her friends.

Before we go down that road, let’s move on, shall we?

So I’m standing around talking with another “dragged along husband”, whom, if we’re being frank here, (I’m not really Frank, I’m just being frank. Please don’t call me Frank), I don’t really care for. But, I was told I had to play nice and keep him company, or else he would be an ass to my wife’s friend. Apparently, there was a lot of “being an ass” potential in the crowd that night. Strange how that works out when spouses are dragged along to high school reunions. I may not be Sherlock Holmes, (or Frank), but I think I see a connection here.

Anyway, back to the story. As we’re standing there, people would come by, squint at us, screw their faces up, stick out their hands and say “I know it’s been so long, but I just can’t seem to place your face. Who are you again?” Since I was trying to be nice, I would kindly extend my hand in greeting and politely tell them that I didn’t go to their school, that I was my wife’s (who they all knew) spouse and that she was right over there if they wanted to talk with her. Most of them would amble away, so grumpy spouse #2 and I could get back to our drinking.

After about the 4^th or 5^th time of this (and about the 3^rd or 4^th beer), it was really getting old. I marched right over to the table where the name tags were, grabbed a blank tag and pen and in big block letters wrote:

“I DIDN’T GO TO YOUR SCHOOL AND I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE”

For the other husband, I wrote this name tag:

I’M WITH STUPID (this had arrows underneath pointing to the right and left).

Now, as strange people came up to me, they’d stick out their hand and start to read the name tag. I’d start shaking their hand and wait until I saw the realization spread across their face that I was a complete and utter stranger to them, before I'd start laughing. It was great fun. Once the joy of that joke wore off, and I’d consumed a lot more beer, I snuck back to the name tag table, and in smaller letters, wrote “ , fucker” at the end of my name tag. That's when the fun really began.

Let’s just say, by the end of the evening, I didn’t have to walk home, but it was a close thing.

"It's like déjà vu all over again."

2008-10-07T08:36:00.000-04:00

As John McCain heads into the second round of presidential debates tonight, Yogi Berra's words come to mind. Mr. McCain could do worse than remind the middle class what happened to them the last time a charismatic Democratic candidate promised them a tax cut. While he's at it, he might also remind them how much more expensive it will be to send Barack Obama to the White House at a time when his fellow Democrats will have a majority in both houses of Congress.

AP Photo/Mandatory Credit: Ron Haviv / VII

Bill Clinton promised one in 1992.

The Clinton years hold some good lessons on both these scores. Back when Mr. Clinton was campaigning for president in 1992, he made a pretty direct pitch: Raise taxes on people making more than $200,000, and use those revenues to fund tax relief for the "forgotten middle class."

In an October presidential debate, then-Gov. Clinton laid out the marginal-rate increase he wanted and some of his plans for the revenue that would be brought in. He followed with a pledge:

"Now, I'll tell you this," he said. "I will not raise taxes on the middle class to pay for these programs. If the money does not come in there to pay for these programs, we will cut other government spending, or we will slow down the phase-in of the programs."

Mr. Clinton, of course, won that election. And as the inauguration approached, he began backtracking from his promise. At a Jan. 14, 1993, press conference in New Hampshire, he claimed that it was the media that had played up a middle-class tax cut, not him. A month later, he announced his actual plan before a joint session of Congress.

On page one of the New York Times, the paper described the fate of the middle-class tax cut this way: "Families earning as little as $20,000 a year -- members of the 'forgotten middle class' whose taxes he promised during his campaign to cut -- will also be asked to send more dollars to Washington under the President's plan."

Here's the link: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122333585431009523.html

What's that old say about studying history? Something about those who don't study history are doomed to repeat it? Whatever. Obama says it aint so!

The Dream

2008-08-07T05:12:00.000-04:00

Driving home from hockey the other night, my son (who’s 16), and I were talking about women, or girls, to be more accurate. He was complaining that there were not any “hot” girls in his high school, or at least, not any hot ones that weren’t surrounded by drama. I asked him what he was talking about and he said that all the hot ones complained and bitched all the time. He then expressed his dream to find the completely hot girl that didn’t complain at all.

We were pulling up to a light when he said this, so I came to a stop, looked over at him and said “What?”

He said “My dream is to find a really hot girl that isn’t surrounded by drama and doesn’t complain at all.”

Some dreams are goals, and some dreams are just plain ridiculous.

Fish Tales

2008-08-06T04:55:00.000-04:00

During our vacation to Hilton Head, I took the kids tubing for a few hours. While we were out, flying around this saltwater estuary, we came upon a pod of dolphins cavorting around in the water. Our boat guide, who was all of about 20, said it looked like they were having sex. I was up in the front of the boat as he said this, trying to take pictures (see above).

Without turning around, I asked him “Why would you say that”

He replied “Humans and dolphins are the only two animals that have sex for fun”

Completely forgetting that the kids were all on the boat I said

“That must be why we like dolphins so much”

My thoughts for the day

2008-07-22T05:58:00.000-04:00

We saw the new batman movie over the weekend. I wasn’t a really big Heath Ledger fan before, and, as cruel as this may sound, his passing really didn’t mean all that much to me. That being said, in The Dark Knight, Heath ledger was all that and two bags of chips.

___________________________________________________________________

In Yahoo news today, one of the headlines is this:

Obama Polishes Foreign-Policy Credentials in Mideast

If you’re polishing something, doesn’t that imply that you already have it/them? Also, this is the first few lines of the article:

“For his presidential campaign, what he says on the trip may not be as important as the photos and videos it produces. ``The visual images will say that he can play in the major leagues, and that will be very important for him,''

So, essentially, style is more important than substance? Perfect, just perfect.

Drive Time

2008-07-15T08:26:00.000-04:00

Last week, I was driving home late from work one evening. The big muckety mucks were up from the corporate office, and we had gone out for a late, decadent dinner at one of the local dining facilities. The food and wine continued over a 3 hour, non-stop onslaught and I was already beginning to feel the pain from my over-indulgence.

Home is 40 miles away from work, and at 10:30 at night, with a belly full of food and alcohol, it was going to be a chore not to pull over and go to sleep. Why is it on the weekends we can drink and eat until the wee hours of the morning, but during the work week anything past 10PM feels like the crack of dawn is just around the corner?

The vast majority of my commute is along the NYS thruway, a four lane highway that stretches the length of NYS. They have just finished resurfacing a good portion of the Thruway, and it’s so smooth right now that it’s like driving on glass. No bumps, no pot holes or that thumpity thump of expansion joints that is so common on concrete highways. At night it’s this jet black river, without any lights, and just the yellow lines on the side to keep you from driving off the side into neverland.

The sky had some high, wispy clouds and two, parallel contrails that pierced the full moon, almost as if the moon was riding along on a pair of ethereal rail road tracks. Now, normally, I don’t recommend driving home at night, after you’ve had a few drinks, and taking your eyes off the road to stare up at the stars, but if you did, on this night, when you looked away from the moon’s glare, there were stars aplenty up in the firmament to reward you for your efforts. Again, don’t try this at home, or at least when I’m coming the other way on the road.

My Ipod served up for my listening pleasure Rush’s Red Barchetta, which just happens to be one of my favorite road songs. I turned up the volume, pushed my four cylinders for all they were worth, and raced home to my family. For a brief moment in time, it was heaven.

My Contribution to ICHC

2008-07-08T13:24:00.000-04:00

A course observation on life

2008-07-03T08:50:00.000-04:00

Report: Alex Rodriguez has split from wife

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080703/ap_en_ot/bba_yankees_rodriguez;_ylt=AnXHaZQIRhyeqQZbRsQCyfes0NUE

Proving once again, that for every beatiful person out there, there is someone tired of screwing them. In this case, maybe mutually tired.

Recently it was reported that A-rod was seen running around with Madonna, during the reporting of which the phrase "All the doormen are talking" was used.

Is there a place where doormen hang out and kibitz together, or some online forum or someplace else where they talk with each other? Certainly, if doormen were just standing at their posts and yelling across the street at one another, secrets wouldn't be kept for very long, and it would seem as though this form of communication might get a little old after a while. Maybe the doormen are harking back to the town crier days, yelling the news of the world to each other over the cacophony of NYC street life, when, all of a sudden, these reporters were just strolling along, minding their own business when out of the blue they hear that Madonna been shagging A-rod's fly balls.

Mmmmm, then again, maybe not.

The Column Caper

2008-07-03T04:54:00.000-04:00

This was originally done on my 360 page. So if you read it there, you don't need to bother reading it again. Also, you may not actually want to bother reading it now, but I'll lead that up to you. Everyone thinks they can write and be funny, but not everyone can. I'm pretty sure I fall in the latter group. And in case I don't see you or hear from you, enjoy your holiday and try to stay out of jail.

One night a few of us were sitting around the fraternity house, enjoying a few brews. As luck would have it, we ran out of beer and a couple of us had to head out on a beer run.

Now, since this was during the middle of the week, and we weren’t actually drinking that much, it really wasn’t a big deal. If it had been the weekend, a beer run would have consisted of firing up the VW rabbit, dragging the treasurer out with a wad of cash and heading off to the beer distributorship, with a couple of our more burly brothers. We didn’t fuck around on the weekends when it came to beer. We had a system, it worked, and if you weren’t in the beer acquisition chain of command, you stayed the hell out of our way. On the weekends, we never ran out of beer and as I look back it, it was one of the few, true accomplishments of my term as president of the fraternity. Sure, maybe we had low expectations, but that just makes it so much easier to achieve 100% satisfaction.

Anyway, on this given evening I headed out to the local store with my roommate. There was a convenience store a few blocks up the street, and since we were really only looking for a few 6 packs, we decided to hoof it up to the store for the exercise. You know, like the 10 minute walk was really going to offset the thousands of calories we were pouring down our gullets that evening.

On the way to the store, we passed this big old mansion on Main Street that was under renovations. It was a beautiful old house, with monstrous Greek columns on the front porch. Well, normally they were on the front porch, but since the porch was undergoing a major overhaul, the columns were lying on the front lawn in nice neat rows.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen a whole lot of these fluted columns standing up, but never lying on the ground. They looked so unusual there on the ground, so mundane, compared to the way they normal look. In hindsight, I’m not really sure what piqued my curiosity (or my buddy’s) about these columns, but something did.

We ambled up the store, spent some time comparing the intrinsic differences between various low quality alcoholic beverages, consummated our purchase and headed back. Along the way, we paused at the mansion and again were intrigued by the columns.

Now, I’m not really sure what led me to jump the short wrought iron fence and attempt to pick the end of one of the columns. In any event, what initially began as a somewhat inebriated theoretical discussion as to the weight of these columns lead to where both of us were inside the fence, had one of said columns up on one shoulder, and our beer slung under the opposite arms.

At this point, what’s a fraternity brother supposed to do, right? We were concerned that trying to place the column back on the ground may actually lead to us dropping our precious beer, which would have been a very negative outcome, at least to our perspective. We decided that the best course of action was to carry the column back to our fraternity house and employ the assistance of our bothers to rectify the situation. As we headed down Main Street, Greek revival column on one shoulder, beer swinging from the other arm, we began to sing that stupid dwarf song from Snow White “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go…”. Once we got to the house, we managed to ring the door bell and waited patiently as our fellow brothers got their heads around the fact that at 10:30 at night there were two guys with beer and a Greek column at their door. Even for fraternities, this doesn’t happen every day.

A little while later, once all the hullabaloo settled down, we were sitting back, enjoying our hard won beers and watching the late news, when the door bell rang. There, at the front door, much to our surprise, was a member of the local law enforcement agency. Since we were all white kids from the suburbs, with a strongly ingrained respect for authority, we politely asked our fine officer what brought him to our house so late that evening. Trying to keep a straight face, the cop said to us:

“Let’s cut the bullshit. If you guys put the column in the back of my car, I’ll take it back to the house and that’s where this thing will end.”

Try as we might, we couldn’t get the 20’ wooden Greek column into the back of the dude’s cruiser. Look, I know those Ford LTD were big freaking cars, but there is a limit as to what you can put in the back of them. Bodies, yes, columns, no.

So, at about midnight, my roommate and I carried the column back to the mansion, under police escort and placed it back among it’s column mates.

And so ended the column caper, where we learned at even at 10:30 at night, people will call the cops if they see a 20’ column walking down the street.

My Submission to Graphjam

2008-06-27T05:39:00.000-04:00

http://graphjam.com/

I hope you get it.

I think (but not too hard)

2008-06-23T13:20:00.000-04:00

I think Obama’s going to win in the fall. It makes me sick. We have a long summer to go and there’s a lot of mud slinging still left, but I think he’s going to win. In the 60’s it was Kennedy, 20 years later was Reagan and now 20 years later I think it’s Obama time.

I think that Obama, while appearing to be lacking in international experience, is a pretty savvy politician. He’s savvy and he’s got a good team around him. In saying that, what I’m also trying to say is that when we get right down to it, Obama isn’t going to bring anything new to the table. We’ll all feel so much more special when we’re being bent over, but the end result will be the same (crude analogy? Yes. Did I make my point? I hope so).

I think that the media’s fawning over Michelle Obama is, frankly, repulsive. Which received more coverage last week, Obama or Michelle’s sun dress?

I think that raising taxes is a horrible idea. I think that redistributing wealth via increased taxes is an incredibly poor formula to improving the economy. I also don’t understand how giving congress (who, by the way, has a lower approval rating than Bush, but who’s keeping track, right?), more of our money to spend, when they have done such a poor job with what we have given them so far, is such a great idea. If someone does a poor job, do you reward them for that? Is this what they teach at Columbia and Harvard? It’s my money, I worked for it, why do I have to give more of it to the government?

I think that anyone who doesn’t recognize that conditions in Iraq are improving is not paying attention to current events. Do you know what the leading, international issue headline on the WSJ is today? Zimbabwe. How many troops do we have there? You know why there isn’t anything about Iraq? Because there isn’t anything coming out of Iraq that major media outlets consider to be news anymore.

I think, that based upon the amount of rain and sun that we have been having in Upstate NY, we’re going to have a crazy corn crop this year. This almost has to be perfect weather for growing crops.

I think that my writing really doesn’t stand up to the writing of a lot of people here. I really like the way that Jack questions people and their assumptions and I think that if I pay attention, I can learn a lot from how he does it. I like the way that Adri writes, but I’ve told her that enough, so let’s not bang that drum any more.

I think that living your life for the next big thing, the next milestone or the next shiny new object, after a while, leaves you wanting more. I’ve really come to appreciate wearing stuff out, but I’m not really sure if the rest of my family is on the same wavelength. We have a 7 year old van with 135,000 miles on it, more rest spots than a cheetah, and you know what? I really like it. It’s been around, it’s been places, you know? It’s a trusted old friend, that, just like real friends, when I really need it, it’s going to let me down.

I think it’s sad that people get more comments on their blogs when there are pictures of attractive women at the top of the blog, than when there isn’t. And then, most of the comments (from both men and women, I notice) are centered around some sort of sexual reference, rather than trying to think up of something original to say. It’s like when Heather put up the picture of her sweating at night. There were so many comments along the lines of “Hey babe, how about I come over and get all hot and sweaty with you”. Just once would someone say “Hey, you looked like crap there. Go take a shower and clean up, ‘cause I’m not all into your body odor and shit like that”? Wouldn’t that be kind of funny once in a while? Anyone can tell you that you’re pretty, not everyone can make you laugh. Or spit milk out of your nose, which is really a good skill to have, if you ask me.

I think that I’ve beat this blog to death.

Tolerance

2008-06-17T07:25:00.000-04:00

I’ve always liked to believe that I’m a fairly tolerant person. I don’t know if that’s exactly true any longer, and I’m wondering how much it was really true in the past. Has this just been a veil that I’ve drawn across my mind to sublimate my actual feelings on certain issues?

Honestly, if we look at the biblical view of tolerance, I’m not a very tolerant person:

You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

I look at that now and wonder to myself, ok, I’ll turn the other cheek for the person, but what am I supposed to do for the next person? And the person after that and after that, and so on and so forth until I’ve reached the 100^th person that wants to strike me on the cheek. Am I intolerant if I don’t turn my cheek for them?

If a person, or a group of people, or a whole class of people, do the same thing over and over again, is it tolerance if we continue to allow them to do that, or just sheer stupidity and gullibility? Am I required to provide the same level of tolerance to the 100^th person that, in my opinion, foists the same mindless drivel on me as the pervious 99?

I’m a fiscally conservative and a moderate socially. I don’t think it’s my position to judge people and their actions (within reason) and I’ll leave it up to our Heavenly Father to make that call (yes, I’m one of those). But, am I being hypocritical if I don’t judge you but I judge your positions on certain issues? Am I being hypocritical if I pass on the fact that you’re a cross-dressing transsexual who enjoys a little necrophilia, but I think that your position that we should have universal health care is moronic?

Is it tolerance or just the fact that my social acceptance meter sinks to new lows each year? Am I more tolerant of gays now, or is it that I’m just reflecting society’s increased tolerance of them?

Why do I get defensive when people say that I’m not tolerant or that I don’t have any patience, when I always thought that I did? Is there an acceptable limit to tolerance and patience?

And, if I should turn the other cheek when someone wrongs me, am I supposed to do the same thing if someone wrongs something or someone that I hold dear? Do I continually have to turn the other cheek and hope that someday these people will come to realize that they were wrong? Or is it ok to once in a while say “You’re fucking nuts, go to hell”?

Hmmmmmm

(This was on my 360 page, and I wanted to move it here. If you've already read it there, sorry for the repitition. It's just so hard to have an original thought these days.)

Just Wondering, Part 2

2008-06-10T10:23:00.000-04:00

Wikipedia defines that the Law of Unintended Consequences “states that any purposeful action will produce some unintended consequences.”, or, in another fashion, as “outcomes that are not (or not limited to) what the actor intended in a particular situation.”

Now, with that in mind, let’s say, just for fun, that the run up in gas prices is actually the result of a secret cover-up by Bush to “allow his old cronies to bleed us to death one more time before his time is up”. You know, that old hack by the left that, while Bush is a raging idiot and the biggest moron to ever hold the office, he none the less is smart enough, with his secret cabal of evil dooers, to manipulate the global oil market to enable his capitalist pig friends to cash in big time before he is out of office.

I know I have a small mind, but does that make him the dumbest genius or the smartest moron out there?

Anyway…

So, Bush has manipulated the global energy markets to cash in all the favors that he owes, right? But, what if, due to the Law of Unintended Consequences, as a result of this run up in energy prices, it essentially forces the American society to begin implementing a coherent energy policy, Americans consume less oil, the “auto industry finally appears willing and eager to respond by speeding production of electric vehicles and high-mileage, gasoline-electric hybrids, while substantially improving the mileage of conventional oil-powered cars.” and we really begin to address and solve global warming?

What if “It's entirely possible that a decade from now, we'll realize that this was a pivotal moment in history” and it’s all due in large part to George Bush and his evil cabal? What are the Democrats going to do then?

Or will they just make sure that Obama The Savior gets all the credit?

I'm confused

2008-06-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

At first, I thought these were pandas. But then again, could they just be a bunch of lazy assed, spoon fed American voters?

Good luck with that

2008-06-03T06:06:00.000-04:00

This is from Obama’s campaign website:

“Obama is the only major candidate who supports tough, direct presidential diplomacy with Iran without preconditions. Now is the time to pressure Iran directly to change their troubling behavior. Obama would offer the Iranian regime a choice. If Iran abandons its nuclear program and support for terrorism, we will offer incentives like membership in the World Trade Organization, economic investments, and a move toward normal diplomatic relations. If Iran continues its troubling behavior, we will step up our economic pressure and political isolation. Seeking this kind of comprehensive settlement with Iran is our best way to make progress.”

With that in mind, here is today’s news:

TEHRAN (AFP) - Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad predicted on Monday that Muslims would uproot "satanic powers" and repeated his controversial belief that Israel will soon disappear, the Mehr news agency reported.

"I must announce that the Zionist regime (Israel), with a 60-year record of genocide, plunder, invasion and betrayal is about to die and will soon be erased from the geographical scene," Ahmadinejad said.

"Today, the time for the fall of the satanic power of the United States has come and the countdown to the annihilation of the emperor of power and wealth has started."

So, ah, Obama, you know, good luck with that “tough, direct presidential diplomacy with Iran”, since they seem to be such reasonable people, and all that. Oh, btw, Obama? Just in case you haven’t noticed, (you have been campaigning for over two years now, so I’m sure it’s tough to keep up with details), but the US and Europe have already been offering incentives, which hasn’t done shit to change Iran’s behavior. But I’m sure that’s going to change once the Great Black Hope is in office, and, you know, once Iran buys into that whole “I’m asking you to believe” crap.

Part of me wants Obama to win, so when his new strategy with Iran eventually fails, on epic proportions, we can all sit back, toast our marshmallows over the nuclear wasteland that will be Israel, and tell the Democrats and Liberals “I told you so”.