a Call to Arms

In a word. Yes. That is to say, correct. Uh-hu. Ditto. Amen to that. I do succinctly and most definitely agree. Notwithstanding the logic and balance of which adhere the cause of both parties I simple feel drawn towards agreement. So there you have it. I'm in.

I would even say unwaveringly. In fact I feel a tempestuous confidence and erstwhile regularity with this movement. I am freed. Undone. I am vindicated.

The celebration of choice is remarkable. Awe inspiring even. So I say let loose the hounds and decide. Cry forth your feelings, and let havoc the emotions that make you tick. Swing loose the pendulous tepid concerns that say, "No you are meek. You don't count" Dare I say unto you, that you do in fact count. Moreover, you matter greatly. You are special.

So I urge you. No. I beseech you.


Stand forth,




pick up your phone. and call in your vote because................





American Idol needs you. and i don't trust simon. or paula:)

my new book

I am thinking about penning a novel to further announce my greatness to the world. Here are some potential titles. Your thoughts?

1) " I'm not borderline, everyone else is just stupid and wrong"
One man's harrowing journey to defeat the obstacles placed before him and overcome all the wrongs he suffered at the hands of many.

2) "Why not Me"
a insightful celebration of one man's greatness

3) "Yes I can, and Boy did I ever"
a harrowing and insightful glimpse into the genius of one man, and his struggles to blossom into his full potential.

4) "Breast Milk is for Sissies"
One man's ..... I got nothin here it just popped into my head and sounded funny.

5) "Narcissus Validated"
One great genius insightful man's bold journey through time to vindicate one of histories marvels. A cleansing journey to reveal inner brilliance for the world to behold.

6) "All you need is Windex and a Mirror"
A provocative new way to explore self esteem. One great man, and one great window cleaner show us all we can truly be like him (the great, brilliant, genius, insightful author guy).

7) "How to throw stones from within and not break glass"
Is it really your fault? hmmmm. One man, One chicken, and the complete misgivings of four major religions expose human frailty in a gripping, emotional ride that will leave you breathless and truly appreciative of the authors sterling wit.

Happy Chocolate's & Flower's Day!!!!!!!!!!

Good morning. It's Valentine's day. If your married, and missed this fact. Well, it's too late for you. Buy a quilt cause your sleeping outdoors.

I love Valentines Day. Its a great opportunity to be romantic with the one you love. Its a chance to eat chocolate, which for me is always a plus. Although at this rate of chocolate consumption factored with my age, I am cruizin towards plus sized.

Valentines Day is the kiddie ride for the unromantic. The idiot's guide if you will. Everywhere you go, you see opportunities to purchase things to tittilate the senses.
"He Beavis....."

But yes with Amore comes ..... looking for a good word for stupid. Hmmmm? I recall one year I purchased my wife a radio for Valentines Day. This was dumb on so many levels. Lets explore. Walk with me.

First, never buy your wife an appliance unless it has batteries and should be kept hidden. Incidentally don't over do this purchase either, because like so many good science fiction novels, the robots take over the world and man can't "handle" or in this case "compete" with the competition. For those of you slower readers.... The rabbit keeps pounding away to the chorus of "Still Going".

Back to the radio. When I purchased this radio I did so against the advice of an entire "Intro to Sociology Class" I was teaching. I remember this because I was measuring each vote with my own profiles of the students. Even the lonely hearts club in the front row looked skeptical about my purchase. Of course they were right.

I think my best work came when the University I worked at had the Barber Shop quartet going around delivering roses and serenading for charity. JACK-POT. This is easy. Romantic, Spontaneous, Awesome. There is no way I could screw this up. None.

I blew it. For that very same day, while checking her e-mail.......Note to self. Don't go pornographic websites without your wife's consent. "Curse you history bar"

There's a theme here. Technology continues to undo my genius. I feel the Amorous Coyote, never able to catch that delicious Road Runner. Re-read this later and picture the Coyote in the back ground . At certain spots you can actually here the Coyote falling off the cliff. sssssssssssshhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaar POOOOWWWW!!!!. Cloud of dust, next scene.

"Meep Meep" Happy Valentines Day.

The Far Side

I just had a minute to catch a blog, titled, Ars Psychiatrica (http://arspsychiatrica.blogspot.com/), which I would highly recommend, as it is own of my favorite reads. On Sunday the author wrote a piece about the genuis that was the "Far Side" by Gary Larson. Great piece, and oh did it take me back. I have so many fond fond memories of the Far Side. I can remember its genuis well back into early adolescence. There where evenings when my father and I would read one of his many books or compilations, and laugh till our sides hurt. There is just something about a Caveman who is both the hunter, and the bait, that continues to break me up even today, "Thag throw.... throw,throw, throw, throw, throw." Larson's commentary on society was onion like in that seemed to penetrate all levels of society. His humor was poignant and articulate. Off-beat and genuis. Who puts a crocodile in psychiatrist couch? Be it caveman, duck, and oooh the cows, gotta love the cows. Bears, the scientists, dorks. His gift for understanding Poodles, and Poodle owners speaks volumes. Furthermore to mix this Falconers, and people that would own a Predator in scenarios, where maybe a classic car show would suffice (the "trouble brewing" cartoon with the Falconers Lunch, depicted adjacent to the Poodle Fanciers Tea, at a park). Genuis.

Anyway, time permitting, and if your a Larson fan like myself check the site,Ars Psychiatrica, its titled, The Funny Book. The guy writes like me. Only funnier, and with correct punctuation, and use of polysyllabic verbage.

He's a SWIMMER

Dude, he's a swimmer. A role model to millions of children. I get it. However, there is no criteria for a swimmer to have social skills. In fact, if you spend more time in the pool than say, the average dolphin, who incidentally is probably smarter than the average human; then perhaps you lack social skills.

I'm speculating, but when you take a gawky awkward kid, who's primary skill in life is to swim faster than other awkward kids, give him say millions of dollars, popularity which has to be at the best difficult for even refined people. Hell politicians screw this kind of thing up daily, and its there JOB, to deal with the public.

I mean basically we're in the Garden of Eden with a very LARGE tree with bulbous Neon Fruit, a Snake with a bullhorn, and Kid with the keys to kingdom furnished him from society.

Fast forward to Kellogg's spokeswoman, " who threw out some choice terms including ""low life". Nice. Really nice.

Lets revisit this scenario in even simpler terms. We have a kid. Maybe somewhat cool. From my observations, I doubt it. Lets give him world fame and celebrity status, loose him in the world and see what happens.

Here's what happens. He gets spotted hitting bong in South Carolina. South Carolina?? Really? Potentially $100 million dollars in sponsorships, and he hits about $4.75 worth of cheap weed in Podunk, South Carolina. A place that is so removed from the real world, that State Troopers speculate, they could prosecute on "Pictorial Evidence". State Troopers? I don't think we'll be seeing CSI South Carolina any time soon. Can you say, "Hey Barn, get the fingerprint Kit".

Really. I mean Really. You look at all of these dynamics, and you have Phelps, ergo the stick of social dynamite, so to speak. Society and all it entails, which I will plug into the equation as the fuse prepped and ready. Which leaves the real culprit and culpable figure in this, his handlers, parents, real friends. Did no-one see this coming? Really? Really?

Bob Knight, when interviewed about this, and I have no idea why, talk about needed a handler, this guy needs a keeper; said, basically, "how dumb can this guy be?"

Answer. Not as DUMB as the people responsible for this kid. The people who built him up. Somebody had to know this was coming. If you are a corporation and you invest Millions of Dollars in a kid for swimming, it should occur to you that maybe, just maybe you should look into his publicity people.

To sum. Michael Phelps is behaving like most 23 year old kids. I don't condone the behavior, at all. However, getting mad at a 23 year old geek for trying to get (and I'm guessing) laid at a party, hits a bong, is ridiculous at best. To use another analogy, and I know these get old, but I love them; its like putting a 7 year old in Porshe starting it up, and getting mad at him for crashing it.

Enough already. He's a swimmer. Yes, and a role model. And yes, that should have been drilled into his head. However, if after 15 million dollars (give or take) he still doesn't get it, somebody should have pointed this out, long before South Carolina's "Flipper Gate"

Just wanted to share.

Living Room of Dreams

Walking out of the cornfield the man asks, "Is this Heaven?"

"No it's Iowa." Field of Dreams. One of my favorite movies of all time. Kevin Costner has a love affair with baseball that really seems to be on the pulse of the game. I would say this is before Steroids, Congress, and 72 Million dollar contracts. I would suspect, and I could be wrong, but I get the feeling that Mr. Costner would be just as at home with a Double A Double Dip on a Tuesday afternoon, as he would box seats at Yankee Stadium.

So I'm sitting here contemplating the shame of icing my elbow and shoulder after playing several 3 inning games of Wii Baseball. But I remember, like it was just minutes ago (probably because it was) fouling off those seventeen pitches before going deep on the giant-headed armless lefty chic, who had proven to be so formidable those first two innings.

Me, I'm still trying to figure out the remote control's; but I am, and I mean I really am, the reason those things got a bracelet attached. In fact I'm the guy they added the locking clip for. Why? And you know the answer to this. Why? Because I'm that guy. You know. The fat guy, using accurate but clumsy form hurling himself from a full wind-up towards the big screen. I'm the guy who starts fast ball, goes curve, and then 2 splitters to close the deal. Listen to that for a minute. "fast ball, goes curve, and then 2 splitters to close the deal." Sounds like I'm the shit. At least I'm half right.

The shame of it all. The shame. I'm too out of shape to play Wii. But still, as I stand there looking at a Television I have no business affording, and I hit this virtual ball, and the joystick vibrates (insert Beavis and Butthead joke here), and makes the sweat sweat sound of the crack of a bat....... I tell ya what. For just a second it takes me back to better places, days, and childhood memories.

So I guess the question is, "Is this heaven?"
"Sadly: No, its Nintendo".