jonsanity

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T11:27:00.000-08:00

Just a quick blurb to say Happy Turkeyday to the world. I wish good things for all people. I have spent the morning reacquainting myself to my physical age of 41. Who ever said 40 was the new 30 can bite me. I don't feel 41 in dog years or anything. Which how do you measure dog years??? How do relate horse power to cars?? Who's the horse in this study?? What if the dog was hyper? or had a condition? I'm just sayin. Are dogs living to older ages these days? What about that dog in all the ED commercials? The one chasing the "STICK" (did I go there? Oh yeah)? How old is he? Just wondering. One last thought to show just how good of shape I'm in. My new favorite thing .... Sleep. I love sleep.

Peace,

J

Mediocrates Strikes Again

2011-11-21T19:25:00.000-08:00

Let me just say that when your day starts out with your 2 year old jumping squarely on your testicles, you gotta know its a potentially gonna be a bad day. I of course scream appropriately. Not Mel Gibsons cry freedom from Braveheart mind you, but my balls are basically waffles at this point. So of course my wife gets mad at me for screaming. What can I say, sympathy is not her strong suit. Disdain.... Now there's a gift that keeps on giving. Anyways my eyes are crossed and I'm in the doghouse before I can even get out of bed. From there things just kinda went down hill. So its nighttime, I'm doing my paper work, and I thought I would take a moment to share.

Goodnight World, and Bite Me (just not on the testicles)

..........................

2011-03-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note to say that I feel like Murphys personal bitch. Write now, if I can say it wrong, do it wrong, eat sleep or drink it wrong; I'm there. I feel like I have this inverted Midas Fecal syndrome.

I want to whine incessantly............. But I can't because I have beautiful wonderful kids who love me. Really just want to throw a tantrum. A big middle of the mall, "give me my Kit Kat bar " tantrum. Which is odd, cause its not like I don't now that life isn't fair. I'm not dissolutioned to the concept that this stupid sphere doesn't revolve around me. Speaking of spheres, I was talking to a sane person today and we both are beginning to pay a little closer attention to the Mayan "end of the world Calendar". I'm just sayin. Might want to re-think Cinco de Mayo/an.

I have no jokes to write. none. Nothing funny. I could post a picture of how fat I am. Otherwise I got nothing. I refuse to write about Charlie Sheen, because thats toooooooooo easy. Even in the slumpest of slumps. Oh well. Weather is here, and I sure as shit ain't beautiful.

peace

Fun with facebook.....

2011-02-02T19:26:00.000-08:00

Here's a thought file under mischievous. get on face book. Find a stranger. Then reminisce. About. I don't know. Anything. Like you know, find some guy in Iowa, and send him some message saying... hey buddy, I thought I'd lost you after that whole chicken plucking initiation thing. To think we even wanted to belong. Hell I don't even eat chicken any more. Oh and I developed an allergy to Vaseline and latex. What about you? Call me.

Playboy or the Bible....

2010-09-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

Can I just tell you how interesting my job is. Off handedly co-worker while assisting a patients relative with things the client can take to the place he is going to get help indicates that maybe some "reading material" would be good.

This is a brief transcript of said phone call
"no I don't think Playboy would be appropriate"
"So thats it Playboy, or the bible"

There is your microcosm of life its all about Playboy or the bible. This individual is obviously a feast or famine type (get it famine ---- bible "its a joke see" A joke son (( think foghorn leghorn)).

Keep smilin....

How many People does it take to fix a dryer???

2010-08-13T08:45:00.000-07:00

This just in from the wierd, wacky, and frankly stupid.

Apparently two men where trapped in an industrial dryer and had to be rescued. This begs so many questions? 1) what is an industrial dryer? 2) what were said individuals doing in an industrial driver? 3)Really? I mean really?

OK, so I red a little. Turns out something was jammed. The first guy went to get it out and was overcome by heat. The second guy tried to rescue him and was also over come by the heat. Anybody else picturing a GINORMOUS walk in dryer? Just me? OK..... then

Incidentally, guy number three did the math and learning from guys one and two; called for help. Interestingly, or frighteningly depending on your choice of salad dressings, it took thirty firefighters 1/2 an hour to save the two guys. Again, we're either dealing with a REALLY REALLY BIG DRYER. Or after 29 minutes of extended contagious, laugh till your side hurts and you pee on yourself laughter; the firemen heroically removed the two future members of the local chapter of clausterphobics anonymous (meetings are every Tuesday at 6 and 10. Outdoors.

Peace

And so it comes to this

2010-08-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Well I've been writing a slanted version of "A Pirate Looks at Forty" every year for the last ..... I don't know five or six years I think. Well Shiver Me Timbers, It has come and gone. I am Forty. Forty. I know its just a number. A really really big number. It is soooooooo much bigger than thirty-nine.

Usually I am reflective at these moments. However, as I sit here, I am frankly, well sore.  You see, because I am forty, I absolutely had to play hockey tonight, cause thats what forty year olds do. One of these days as I sit around icing the things burn and heating the things that are numb it will occur to me, that I am not an athlete. I sure as shit, am not a hockey player. Let alone a goalie at that.  Talk about, "hey lets check this guys drug screen again".

Sports has always been such a big deal to me.   And yet I suck at them. With consistancy.

In fact todays epiphany for me, went something along the lines of, "Holy Shit, I'm like Don Quixote sans Wind mills." For those of you Shakespeare lovers, and you'll really appreciate the irony of this one, I was cast as Bottom the Weaver in Midsummer. I WAS TYPE CAST. I think I may have been the only freakin guy in recent history to be type cast as a Jack Ass. I thought was funny. Fuck. I'm a mule. Not only am I a moron, but I'm some combination of stubborn and proud. My life script reads like a freakin Mc Donalds commercial with a slant towards health food. Hey get fat.... But run with or perhaps from a Scary Clown.  Side bar, if ever there was a scary clown its Ronald.

The birthday, however, was absoulutely magical. I got to spend it my wife, and three wonderfulsupercalafragilisticexbealadocious children. I got to laugh with my kids. I got to hold my little girl while she slept. I let my soon to be too big to ride on my shoulders son, ride on shoulders, till I couldn't feel my toes. And my oldest. My tikva. Who always makes me smile. Makes it all worthwhile.

In short I am blessed. Lucky and Blessed. Undeservedly so. If I could wish for a thing it would be for better things for my family. Still in this world we live in today, I'll hold my wish and choose to say thank you.

Last Comic Standing

2010-06-16T09:37:00.000-07:00

Ok. So I have a minute to be manic. So, I'm watching that show, "Last Comic Standing" last night, and I wonder how I would stack up against the competition. I gauge it out, and I figure, I probably get one of the guest spot auditions. This is the part where thousands of people try to be funny, in hopes of getting 3-4 minutes of air-time. 90 percent of these people are SLAM FREAKIN NUTS. 99 percent of these people aren't very funny. I kind of like watching the bizzare and the delusional more than the professional comics honestly. So after the "Mini Audition" they have the showcase event where people perform before a live audience, and are judged a second time.
So how do I stack up? Well........ I put me somewhere just off the bubble (see ncaa basketball tourney). I probably don't advance maybe 2-3 deep. Which is to say the people at the end who where "this close (imagine really close)", and who usually say something sarcastic and bitter. I'm like one dude behind angry raincoat guy. Yeah thats me, "not quite angry raincoat guy". I'm "just happy to be on tv guy". I'm "secretly relieved not to advance guy" with "fear of crowds" guy. Which you might think is sad. but then atleast I'm not "totally unfunny psychotic misanthrope guy". You know this guy. He's the angry guy, who gets mad at people who don't get his jokes. He's the guy who comes to the club every week and tells the same unfunny joke, and is equally aghast every week when people groan. I would call him mr. "WHAT??? IT COULD HAPPEN... I GOT AN UNCLE FELIX WHO..... "guy.

Anyways after watching the show, I think to myself. "Self, life on the cusp ain't so bad". But then I remind me something. Something interesting. All of the people I'm comparing me to have 8 yrs, 10 yrs, 9 yrs experience. They suck it all in. They live and breathe the comedy. It is there all consuming passion. To whit, I wish them the best. I suppose someday soonish, I will show up at a comedy club and rant about my misgivings, misinterpretations, mistletoe moments just long enough to bruise or soothe my pathetic ego. Then I will slip quietly away back into the shadows of the "if only", "I coulda been a contender types".

Pathetic? Perhaps. Perspective? Probably.
Peace

Truth on ice with Chinchillas

2010-03-24T22:25:00.000-07:00

Interesting night really. First we are Chinchilla sitting for a friend. I didn't know that rodents required this kind of affection. I was also unaware that they had such keen insight into indifference. Because when I went to get this little "future pair of hand-warmers" out of the cage it bristled and hissed at me. This cute little ball of fuzz was all huffy and was trying to bite me. I felt like I had the bad role in "Rikii Tikii Tavi. My daugther called me a chicken. A chicken. Which is ridiculous, because I was really acting more like a @#ssy, a word my daughter better not call me. Finally I managed to subdue the would be "ear-muffs" and everyone got to pet it.

So I'm drifting off to what at best I can call bed, when my phone rings, and I figure its work calling. Its not. A local hockey needs a sub goalie and the game already started. So I dash into my garage, throw the gear in the van and I'm off. By the time I am in gear, it is the 2nd period and our team is ahead 4-2, bear in mind without a goalie. So this is really looking good for my ego. If they can do this without me, well, Katie-bar-the-door.... Not so much. At 5 to 2 I was pretty happy. I could even live with 5-3. However, in the third period, when it was 6-4, I began to feel awkward. Kinda Really awkward. 7-4, I was ok again. Seven to five with a couple of minutes, I figured I could hold on.

Now, when the called timeout with a minute six on the clock because the score was seven t six. I was not happy. I saw the potential for being the guy who goes into a game with a team that has no, goalie and a two goal lead, only to have my ass kicked by a chinchilla, and a C league hockey time all in the same night.

We won. We held on and won. My ego remains intact, though bruised. I will ice up some sore parts. Rest a little, then later, I am going to by a small fire-arm, and get my wife some Really Comfortable expensive Mittens.

My pocket pair of Dueces

2010-03-22T07:15:00.000-07:00

There are just some days when the hail stones are bigger. Days when you know its coming, and you can't stop it. You just kinda-sit there, like a monkey in the rain. Strangely apathetic to the chill. That's how I'm rollin today. I can hear a very large train, and frankly, I don't see no tracks. Smacks of a bummer. Who knows though. Life is interesting at best. Searingly painful at worst..... So I guess we'll just play the cards we have and see what happens. I can't lie though.... I'm not feelin really good about my pocket pair of dueces.

mopeds? Really?

2010-03-15T19:29:00.000-07:00

You know after your first moped accident goes horrifically wrong, as much as I admire the human spirit to get back up and ride again. Free with your moped brothers, hair, or combover blowing in the wind.... Nope. Just doesn't work for me. If you have been seriously injured on a moped. WALK. DO NOT RUN. Really DON'T RUN. It is obvious to me that transportation is not your thing. This individual was showing me crap that Evil Kneivel didn't break, and well....

When your family says, "We're glad its broke (moped) so now maybe he won't get hurt" Ouch. Sad. Forgive me if I don't rush out and try to secure the movie rights to free wheeling tale of mischief and low speed chases, with high curb crashes.

Somewhere there should be one of those spoof motivational posters that says something funnier than I can imagine, and involves a moped, an oversized person in undersized spandex, and maybe if we're lucky. A prison tattoo. Now, hows that for an "In search of Ad" Take that Mr. Lonely Hearts.

Question of the day?

2010-03-09T06:56:00.001-08:00

If Murphy got into a fight with Karma, who would win?

Not really feeling Froggy

2010-03-09T06:55:00.000-08:00

So I just decided to restore my blog for whatever reason. To validate whatever insecurities I have. To continue to shout "I'm Important" said the speck to the Universe (Calvin & Hobbes).

I would say this. Another quote I saw somewhere and have previously used.
     Aunt EM:
      Hate you. Hate Kansas
                Taking the dog.

my new favorite blog part II

2010-01-07T21:36:00.000-08:00

First, let me say that my new favorite blog is so not my new favorite blog for the reasons you would immediately imagine. It's called :

I Shoulda Been a Stripper
RANDOM MUSINGS FROM A NEVER MARRIED 40-SOMETHING WITH ISSUES

I know I know its awesome. But not in a creepy, trailer parky, kind of way. The work is creative, funny, energetic. Its good energy.

So for all of my fan(s) out there, I highly recommend this sight (yes erin, I think you would get a kick out this lady she's funny like you.

Incidentally if the author of this blog is actually a hairy bald man from Desmoine, I will be so crushed, and strangely in need of a shower. Who new?

Night

Greatness

2010-01-07T10:21:00.000-08:00

Greatness

Do you remember when it mattered? When it was important? Do you remember mustering the courage to face it? Do you remember the butterflies? Dreams? Motivations?

Do you recall staying up late dreaming about it? Living, and breathing for it? Working for it? Starving for it?

Did you quit when they said you can't? Did you stop when they laughed at you? Or did it make you mad?

Did you just give in? Or did you let that anger forge you into something better? Did you galvanize all of the pain to be better still? Stronger?

I remember when it mattered. I remember constantly swimming upstream toward that something. Then I remembered the distance. The distance slowly growing. I remember short comings identified by those I valued and treasured most. In an instant, Teflon became glue. I remember sinking...... Down and downward still.

I blame no-one but myself. Others views, no matter how close should never serve as deterrent. It was said that when Ali knocked out Sonny that it wasn't so much the force of the blow; rather the blow he didn't see coming. Truth.

In an instant you no longer live in can and can't. You have been removed to indifference. Placed in not wanting to. Why bother? This is the danger in living for others.

Still, we are social creatures. Are we not? So I suppose Greatness can be defined by the knock-out. The strong visceral image of Ali standing over Sonny.

However, Greatness gets up. Greatness wipes the blood off it's chin and goes forward. Greatness believes. Greatness doesn't give up.

Even in the pitch darkness where nothingness lurks and despair cries out in hapless vain; greatness claws strongly forward. Crawling, even stumbling forward with a faith unseen and a sense of self reliance. Greatness finds a way. I don't know how, when, or why. I simply believe in

Greatness

I read the coolest blog last night....

2010-01-07T09:25:00.000-08:00

So anyways I read the coolest blog last night. I will mention its name later, as I fail to recall it at present. Here's the thing. The writer had vitality. Life. Enthusiasm. Charisma. It all translated neatly to the page. It was cool. Inspiring even. It took me back to better days when I would just write off the cuff stream of consciousness stuff.

Not that I feel stagnant (I am soooo stagnant). But I was enthralled by the work. My wife leans over my shoulder and I mention this blog and how impressed I am. My wife looks at it, and says; "See thats somebody I could picture you with."

Now, I'm no marriage therapist (I am a therapist); however, when your spouse identifies potential soul mates or kindred entities for you.... Gotta be a warning sign somewhere. Did I also mentioned the blogger was a cereal killer (kidding)?

Its moments like these when my wife makes marital remarks, when I feel the spirit of Rodney Dangerfield take hold.

So anywho, long story short. New blog cool. Funny. ier than me (jealous).

Anyways, dear reader(s) I'll keep you posted when I find the title of the blog.

peace,
j

I'm so shallow...

2010-01-06T11:34:00.000-08:00

I just read this account of the initial Tiger Woods incident. I have to say it is the most plausable account yet. Interesting because the source had nothing to gain from sharing, which makes it all the more believable. So read away.

From the Toronto Star, via the Sporting News:
Burns said a friend of his in the Florida highway patrol was among those who visited Woods' home the night of the crash. Burns worked with the police in Florida before coaching hockey, according to the newspaper.
After eating dinner that night, Woods was watching football while sending and receiving text messages from Rachel Uchitel, one of his alleged mistresses, Burns said. Later, Woods left his phone on the coffee table when he went to play poker at a friend's house. But Uchitel continued to text.
Here is Burns' account of what happened next:
"His wife (Elin Nordegren) saw the message. When he returned, around 11:30 p.m. or midnight, she waited at the door. She asked what it was, these messages, and who was this woman.
"He kept saying there was nothing there. He went to watch television. ... then suddenly, bang! A nine-iron in the face!
"He left the house running without shoes. Elin followed him with the club. He left in his Escalade. She followed him and broke two or three windows. That's why he hit the tree."
Doctors in the Orlando hospital Woods was taken to said he needed plastic surgery to repair the broken teeth, and that the facility best able to perform the operation was in Phoenix, Arizona. Woods was then transported to Phoenix.
This matches the account given by octogenarian sportswriter Furman Bisher on his blog two weeks ago, except that Bisher wrote that Elin also connected with his cheek bone. When police interviewed Woods on Dec. 1, they reported seeing him only with a "fat lip."
There's no earthly reason that Burns -- who won more than 500 games with four NHL teams over a 14-year career -- would come up with this out of the blue. If so it's the biggest non-sequiter in sports.
***Is Tiger Woods' absence attributable to broken teeth? [Sporting News]Ex-Leafs coach Burns says Tiger Woods had teeth knocked out [Toronto Star]View image

0
-->

My own personal tantrum

2009-12-22T10:55:00.001-08:00

So as I sit here, angry; I want to be sarcastic, caustic, humorous. I want to thumb my nose at the world. To essentially tell the world to bite me. To say, that I have it all under control. That it doesn't bother me, that I have to get in and out of my car five times in the morning just to remember everything. Everything which is essentially nothing. I want to pout. To pooch my lip out like a kid, and shout at the top of my lungs, "ITS NOT FAIR". Cause its not (life). Ya know.

I looked it up, and write there in fine print just below the warranty section, right after jurisdictional issues between mallard/platypus relationships; it says, "BEAR IN MIND LIFE IS NOT FAIR".

So I will sit here grateful. Grateful and angry. I will allow myself to pout, whilst I acknowledge the reality that there is in fact real suffering going on in the world. The world to which, despite my incessant protestations, continues to NOT revolve around me.

God bless.

j

Two Cats in a cold garage.

2009-12-17T20:35:00.001-08:00

If my cats could speak, I'm thinking this is the dialogue presently underway....

"You idiot"
"If I told you one time, I told you a thousand times; night-time is not play-time"
"Now look at us. Freezing our fat cat tails off, in the garage."
"No don't... Don't pee on his shoes. The last time you did that his crazy ass kept us out here for solid week."

"You realize two minutes ago, I was sprawled out on the sofa. The Warm Sofa."
"And for the love of Sweet god, you always run, roll-over, and look at him with the excitement of a game of chase. It's not chase. Moron. Human's call it remove the cat and sleep."

"God almighty its cold out here.. You know what . Screw it. Pee on his shoes."

2009-12-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

Just a couple of musings. I heard this morning that a murder trial was being moved out of one state to another. The concerns expressed where a "tainted jury pool". This certainly raises a lot of questions for me. One. Is there a more, what shall I say "Murder Friendly" state. Further speculation leads me to think that perhaps its not the "tainted jury pool" of concern, rather issues of looking for a perhaps "shallower gene pool".

Oh, and yes I get the whole liberal, not liberal, life in jail, versus being a brief guest on a cooking show (so to speak) scenario. I just found it odd the way it was presented is all.

Sigh.............. There is so much beauty in this world, I just find that some days its harder to find through all of the crap. So much of what we hear on radio and television, is basically anger based, divisive, almost propaganda shtuff.... Its nauseating.

I sight my favorite worldly microcosmic barometer: Professional Wrestling. In today's wrestling climate, you can't tell the good guys from the bad guys. Or why they are liked or disliked. Basically you watch to deranged narcissistic figures which are essentially real life caricatures of different aspects of society puffed up and hissing at other; while a building full of truly deranged people shout chant and hold up signs hoping to be spotted by some relative in whatever distant small town from which they hale.

Long story short. Life imitates art or vice versa. In this case the mirror represented takes on a fun house kind of feel.....

On Not being cool.....

2009-12-11T07:25:00.000-08:00

Some of the harder moments in our lives. Realizing are parents are fallible. That's a biggie. And a bummer. Realizing we are fallible. At some point in our lives it occurs to us that we aren't going to live forever. Also a bummer. And a little anxiety provoking at that.

Which brings me to my present realization of awareness. I'm not cool. I'm not as interesting as I think. I'm not always right. I know this is hard for some of you to take in, and I hope I haven't hurt any of you with the bluntness of my flaws. Still I owe to you, the reader (literally), to share.

We have a neighbor, someone who lives in our area. Very nice person. Funny, kind. Good people, all around. Anyway, I being me, was probably overly me in trying to be funny and entertaining. When I met this person, I thought, hey this is a cool person. Someone I could hang out with. Sort of a "Fred and Barney" "Ralph and Norton" kind of deal.

However, and I go back to the beginning of this diatribe, methinks I am not as cool as me thinks. Recently our kids were playing in the yard, running around with our friends kids, and the wives were chatting. The other individual in this story, was on a phone call when the kids were running around playing and the wives were visiting. So we go to walk to away, and my wife off-handedly jokes, "Man he really doesn't like you". No malice. Just a joke. And its like a light bulb goes off (dim, flickering at best), but I remember all of these, "can you take hint" scenarios dating back almost six months.

In the first Shrek movie, Donkey follows Shrek back to his Swamp and invites himself over. Standing at the front door, Donkey says, and I suck at paraphrasing, "Don't you hate that awkward silence when somebody wants you to leave..." Then Donkey looks up and see's Shrek staring at him uncomfortably.

I guess my first order of business is to apologize to this person, who is to nice to say, "Hey Donkey, leave me alone". Next, I guess I'll stop entering dance competitions, as I rumors speculate I lack rhythm. I've already cancelled my back waxing this week, so all that remains is to sell auction off my chest wigs. I'm thinkin e-bay. Maybe Craigs-list. I bet that Craig guy is cool. His neighbors probably like him.

god bless,
j

Ok, I give on Woods matter....

2009-12-03T10:48:00.000-08:00

Generally, I try to stay removed from such matters as the Tiger Woods affair (get it affair. I'm startin slow). Since its all that anyone can talk about, I in my greatness have decided to weigh in.

Firstly, I see a lot of possibilities for Tiger to continue his relationship with his many sponsors. Buick, for instance. "I'm Tiger Woods, and lets talk about new and improved safety glass. Bigger mirrors to enhance vision..."

Nike, "When I'm not golfing, I'm running. Which is why I use the new golf-sprint 2600. So whether your putting or sprinting...."

Hmmmmmmm. "Tiger here on the q-t about the new mobile q-t supersecret 6000"

I don't know. It's none of my business, but man does the media feed on this stuff. And if I here one more person talk about what a forgiving society we are. FORGIVING????

Let me help you with this. Forgiving how, exactly? Maybe in that, "Confess your a Witch, and we'll kill you quickly and not burn you kinda way? Or are we looking for more of a Braveheart ending. "Tell us Tiger.... You were wrong, and confess your allegiance to England in the Ryder Cup or its the Nine Irons for you"....

Cut to back drop, Tiger screams out "Auuuuguusssstaaaaa"

Too much? Over the top? Probly.

peace,
j

I gotta counter

2009-12-02T12:55:00.000-08:00

I gotta counter. Very excited. I used to have one. Then I ditched it. Now I got one back. Now I can count all of my Fan(s). So Siked. Bring on my beloved Minions. .....

Still waiting..... Hello..... I don't know how to type Echo Echo Echo....

I betcha, I will be my biggest fan.

Tiger Woods

2009-12-02T12:30:00.001-08:00

Briefly. Don't care about Tiger Woods private life. Not really a big fan of golf. It is incidents like these that make me grow to loathe sports talk shows. To whit, I take full responsibility for listening to them. Its the same thing every time. "Now I don't want to Talk about Tiger Woods....but"

"If I could tell Tiger anything...."

Really.

Now the only sports show I will listen to is Mike and Mike in the Morning on ESPN Radio. Love these guys. You have a combination of humor and sports intellect. You have two guys who have fun, don't take themselves too seriously, and actually listen to people who know stuff.

And they don't whine so much.

To continue, Mike and Mike did play a quote from Charles Barkley, referring to the Tiger Woods incident. Personally, hilarious. The piece wasn't so much meant for humor, but the idea of Charles Barkley giving anyone advice on anything that doesn't involve a ball and hoop.... Is at best .... worst. This cat is a PR nightmare.

That's all I got for today.

Peace,
j

Tiger Woods

2009-12-02T12:30:00.000-08:00

A T

2009-11-30T12:11:00.000-08:00

Interesting Holiday, Thanksgiving. Everyone gathers together to eat a large bird, known exclusively for its stupidity, and a chemical which makes people lethargic. This Thanksgiving, is purported to have come from a time when the English "settlers", or "Invaders" as some people would say, apparently came together with the Native Americans to eat corn. And Squash.

I think that's it, cause some time shortly there-after we began to "discover", or "take" things from the Native Americans (Indians). Like Land and stuff. Not that the Native Americans could tell at first, because they essentially, didn't follow the general concept of ownership.

Now, to be clear, lets further explore the term Native, from Native American. Native is a word which comes from the Latin "Here First" or the later transcribed Greek term "Dibbs". Which is really where the debate as to "Discovery"/"Theftscovery" begins.

Now, to some eyes it would appear that the whole, "We were here before you" thing is open and shut, and pretty much ends the whole debate. But wait, on the settlers side comes the idea, rather notion, ergo concept of "Manifest Destiny"; or the "Well God said we could have it so there", idea.

Again, I find it a little bit odd that these folks fled England for religious freedom (zealotry) in the first place; only to turn right around and invoke this whole god (idolatry) thing leans towards absurdity.

To whit I realy get lost on this whole we're civilized and your savages thing. First off, nobody showered. Nobody. Ever. Its in all the movies. Furthermore, powder is not Soap. I don't care if Lye was invented understood or available. Powder is but a thin veil that the skunk wears to appear like a Kitten.

Then there is the whole TP thing. Of which I am not referring to Native American lodging (Tee Pee). I have two scary words for you. The first is Corn. Which is only shortly followed after dramatic pause by Cobb. Corn Cobb. R U KIDDING ME? So not only is every ones poop full of corn, which is horrific an image enough, but then folks had to return to the source to return the pieces to the source (think about it, but don't picture it).

Savages my foot. At-least Native American clothing was roomier. and breathed better. A truss? A Truss? Really? If your clothing hampers your breathing.....

So I'm in a tavern looking across from this fair maiden who is powdered for smell, purple for lack of oxygen, and wreaks of corn. And she wants to make small talk about savages. Savages, at this point I'm leaving the tavern and lookin for Pocahontas.

peace,
j

Pre Thanksgiving

2009-11-24T11:16:00.000-08:00

You know, and I hate this. I sit here and I want to write some completely immoral diatribe attacking some conservative faction of some sort. I want to make fun of someone. Put someone down. Needle, be-little, generally otherwise oppose something. But I can't. I got nothing. I am grateful for my family. My blessings. I have wonderful supportive friends. I am working. So I guess whining is out. Curse you perspective. Curse you and ........

I hope whoever you are and wherever you are, you are safe and sound wherever you may be.

peace,

j

I'm stupid.... and here's why

2009-11-17T11:26:00.000-08:00

So I have some rare spare time at work, when I am actually caught up on everything. I decide to take a walk around the block. To you know exercise. Well anyway, after about three minutes of this walk, it occurs to me that it has been awhile since I have actually taken a walk.

Suddenly the sedentary nature of my whole existence becomes horrifically into focus. Wake up. Drive to work. Drive to drive-thru for lunch. walk to desk. sit. walk to car. drive home. spend time with kids (around house). Sleep. Repeat.

Holy shchnitzel batman, I think I know why I can't fit into my pants. Could it be that I eat almost an average of one fast food meal a day???? Sometimes two??? All the while walking to and from my car. Distances not to exceed twenty yards.

Fischizzle Robin!!!! That's it. So today Tuesday November 17th the chronicles of Fatman begins. I am sitting here a paltry (poultry, deep fried) two-hundred and 36 pds. I will let you know how it goes from here.

this just in...

2009-11-05T07:49:00.001-08:00

Reo Speedwagon, Styx, and Night Ranger are coming to perform at a .............. I don't know Six Flags near you. Reo Speedwagon Really??? What was the Night Ranger Song? Office mate said "Sister Christian". Good stuff Sher Bear. She also makes the excellent point that this would have been an awesome concert 20ish years ago.

This brings me back to the good times of really big hair, and concert shirts. Oh yeah. Concert shirts. Nothing says your the man (or the woman) like a skin tight Tee-shirt, ripped tight jeans, and REALLY BIG GIANT HAIR WITH MOOSE in it. Moose that was made from a .... wait for it.... MOOSE. That's right actual Moose saliva, sent in fresh, not frozen from the Rockies. None of this Moose farm Moose spit. Only Ferile Moose spit will do.

Nuff said. Sadly, I have too much work to do to mock "Mr. Roboto".

Peace

Just Briefly

2009-11-03T06:31:00.001-08:00

Good morning all. Just typing in some quick notes to my fan(s). Who am I kidding. Hi Erin. So here's where I am. babies- good. Swine flu- scary as foshizzle. work-stressful as foshizzle.

It is hard live in the precious fleeting moments of life, while planning for the future. I feel like a one armed man in a juggling competition.... who's glasses fell off... while tying his shoes... on a steep embank....

Then I feel blessed as I watch my precious newborn sleep. At work I feel persecuted, when I think maybe I should be appreciated. I am trying to find the line between coach-ability and accountability juxtaposed with am I just being bullied???

My pulse is 106 as I try to typed this e-mail with shaky fingers.

Still, life is fun, and funnier still. I look forward to my next (mis)adventures. I wish I could sing (well). That looks like fun. A hot spotlight would really serve my ego about now.

So wherever or whoever you are on this big spinning rock, I hope you are well safe and loved. Try to hug someone today. Splash in a puddle and giggle if possible. And just maybe forgive yourself for one of your foibles. Ooh and if you don't send this to anyone..... whoopty schnit. I hate chain letters. Why would anyone send someone a blessing wrapped in a veiled threat of a curse. That's why they gave swimming lessons to creepy old ladies in Salem for gosh sakes....

Peace...

J

Baby Day

2009-10-21T05:03:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day my wife has a larger belly than me. So ...... "John are you ready"??????

I'll keep you posted......

P.S. I Love You

2009-09-28T21:36:00.000-07:00

OK. To have a cerebral understanding of the game of football that I have. To have an awareness of all things manly and athletic, such that I have been blessed. I would have to say I find it odd that I have just completed an entire Chick Flick.

Total chick flick. Complete Chick Flick. Having said this, I am in love with Kathy Bates. She is absolutely one of my favorite actors. I thought Harry Connick Jr. was simply divine in his role in this movie. Hillary Swank, who gets nominated for everything, was her usual resplendent self.

Did I cry? No? Crossed my mind. Still. No tears. But I would say this movie moved me. I really appreciate a film that captures the human spirit with passion, and guts. A film which embraces the bittersweet reality of true emotion. Pain and loss, experienced in a way that can only be healed with love and humor. The awkwardness of people trying to wrangle their way through life wrestling with these emotions, is awesome to me. Awe inspiring even.

There really is something to be said for a good "Chick Flick". I say this with full authority and a sense of pride. I shout this with no fear of losing my man card. No lurking issues of homophobia cropping up. I, being a man without an iron, or hairbrush for that matter. A man who cannot cook without the coals of a grill, to whit it would require said coals on my feet to make me dance. No dear, friends. This is not a freeing from a closet full of footballs, wooden tennis rackets, and sweat pants beyond reproach. This is simply one man, stepping out of his cave, to appreciate a film that somehow, while reaching for the fairer sex, stumbled across the radar of the hairier sex. I am satiated. Now I can sleep.

Peanut Butter and Bikes

2009-09-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

Life is complicated. Its hard to be cynical, if you have any perspective. I think the saying goes along the lines of, "I wept for need of shoe's, until I saw a man with no feet"(somewhere in the bible. I think).

You can find joy anywhere in life. All you have to do is look. Likewise, sorrow is in high demand. The longer I spin on this marble, the more my perspective changes. What was once important, is now of little value.

I have always put a premium on friendship. And Peanut Butter. Both of which have served me well. The other stuff, well that's where the shift comes in. Family. And I don't want to say that I have devalued family lo these many years; rather I have come to appreciate family all the more so. Every moment with my children is, to me, a sacred stolen moment. A moment I will never forget, and never get back. Every hug. Every laugh. All stolen.

Like so many Dad's before and after me, I got to watch my little girl ride a bike sans-training wheels for the first time. And like any dad who was paying attention or filled with pride, I was blown away. Not so much by the accomplishment, but from the sheer joy and pride; the genuine mirth and giddiness my child displayed as she realized that she was riding on her own. If life had a pause button, I'm wearin it out. Right there on that smile. That, for me was good stuff. For in that one fleeting instant, I was one, maybe two peanut butter crackers away from perfection.

Obama Speech to Students

2009-09-04T05:53:00.000-07:00

You know what. Here's the thing. I have a job. I'm busy. So I don't have a lot of time to weigh in on this. However, our President is addressing our students about "about the need to work hard and stay in school". This quote was taken from the article "Obama speech to students sparks new controversy" By LIBBY QUAID and LINDA STEWART BALL Associated Press Writers.

So anyway, radio pundits, television bandits, and various other forms of nausea have declared this is a bad thing, and that it is politically motivated such that the president can further push his agenda. R U kidding me? REALLY. First of all our schools are so underfunded I doubt we even have the technology to show the freakin speech. Secondly the schools with the technology are most likely private institutions whose constituents lean towards a philosophy of the "Rich get Richer and the Poor get Poorer". Not name calling (Republican Party), I'm just saying.

I really wish I had more time to look at this, but frankly the people that stir this kind of stuff sicken me, so I'll go back to work. We live in a country that is about Freedom. Freedom of choice, religion, free speech, and other rights. After two consecutive elections which mocked, laughed at, and disparaged the very things this country stands for. Eight years in which our vice presidents own company made ungodly (yes I said ungodly. intentionally) amounts of money rebuilding that which (Haliburton) our President leveled (Iraq) as an odd misadventure on an otherwise logical expedition (Afganistan).

Did I get side tracked? My bad.

In closing, I think it would be nice if our President could serve as a role model and tell our kids to stay in school. Our last President addressed a graduating class at Yale and remarked, "You too can make C's and be President of the United States". Everyone laughed. That is to say everyone graduating from Yale that day. Hmmmmm.

Weighing in on Farve

2009-08-24T05:44:00.001-07:00

OK. I know I am late weighing in on my Farve opinion. I generally state somewhat out of the sports genre; but I am compelled to share my genius on this matter. All I have been hearing and reading about of late is the recent re-re-return of Quarterback Brett Farve.

I hear questions about his legacy. Will it be tarnished? Diminished? I hear people say he is a "flip-flopper", and that he should just make up "his mind". Which brings me succinctly to my point. It is his mind. Not mine. Not yours. His. Honestly the guy can play till he fifty for all I care. One of the interesting quotes I heard from someone about playing with Brett was this; "Playing with Brett made the game fun again". I'm paraphrasing, as I am prone to do. But this point is strong and relevant; and even pervasive in the language people use around him. He plays the game with childlike enthusiasm. He is a relentless competitor. He is tenacious.

OK. Now bear in mind, these comments are not coming from the local chess-club. The people making these statements are ball-players at the highest level. Men who have paid the price to play arguably the greatest game ever. If there is a Valhalla (Viking Lore, how ironic), then Farve has earned a seat at the table.

Walking away. Again, I hear people talking about how he should "walk away", and "step aside". Really? By whose rules? Who says when its time to go? Remember most of the people who's opinions we're listening too, are looking forward to retirement. Which many of us dream of. Thats because we WORK for living. Imagine if you played for a living. And yes I know this is where everyone (both of my readers) says how hard the game is year round training, etc.... Remember, this is a guy who "plays" the game like a "kid". Also the other word you hear when people talk about Brett and football is "fun".

So basically, if I'm hearing things correctly, we have a lot of people, who are upset because this guy kept changing his mind about doing something "fun". With a few small (12-13 million) benefits as well.

My take on this. GO Vikings.

The Cats in Carriage

2009-08-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

You know, I don't think it gets any easier. As adults we age. Our children age. Our parents age. Each scenario creates its own set of challenges. Just when you think you have some understanding of something; anything. Then life throws you another curve. Changes the rules. Breaks the rules. Life really sucks that way. Honestly, and I think I could make a fairly certain case that the main rule of life is that there really are no rules.

Yes there are certainties. Gravity is good one. Generally speaking you "reap what you sew"(the bible, chapter somewhere, verse somewhere), which is an oldy but a goody. If its too good to be true.... It is.

But I digress. My kids are growing exponentially right in front of me. I don't want to miss any of it. Man does it go fast. One minute your holding this tiny being in your hand, only to sit dumbfounded the next, realizing you have again (again) been outsmarted by your child. My god if they ever learn to get along, and start hunting in a pack; I'm toast. Its funny I spend so much time trying to make my children get along. It really smacks of "be careful what you wish for". Besides that, sibs will be sibs. They concur on the important things. Ice-cream, Scooby Doo, and Mom is really the one in charge.

If only to stop time in its tracks. To enjoy the moment. The moment which I fear has a tendency to get lost in our fast paced society of instant information. I wonder if it is like this in Amish country.

"Well Ezekial, I would love to play with yee, but I've got this barn to raise, and these cows to milk. Oh Hezekia, it's seems as though yesterday you were but a boy. Know here you are eleven, married, with a full beard (I might have my religions wrong......)."

I wonder if someday our kids will laugh and say, "remember DVD players?"

A Grateful Pirate

2009-07-31T06:57:00.000-07:00

So it has fallen again, the day of my birth. In borrowing from the Jimmy Buffet song, "A Pirate Looks at Forty", I have been writing things as such on my birthday since I can't remember. Hmmmmmmm. I'm 39 today.

Yesterday, I did water aerobics at our pool. It was pretty much like you would imagine water aerobics to be. Mostly elderly people. I had thoughts as I was treading water about various ways this could funny; but I was struck by the kindness of the people, and the fun they were having. Lots of laughter, and kidding. Not just laughter and kidding, but childish stuff. It was like being around children in old people suits. It was cool.

And yes part of me thought, "Hell your almost 39 years old; you should be playing hockey somewhere. You should be running, really working out." Honestly though, the bulk of me (and there is too much bulk), thought, "I'm just grateful to be here, and to have this opportunity to work out and relax. My wife and kids are near me, and their happy. Who cares."

Don't get me wrong, I live to rant about stuff. I hate answering machines that blather on and on.

"Hello you have reached bla, bla, bla. We regret that we can't come to the phone bla bla bla
but if you'll leave your bla bla at the bla". Ten minutes later the automated voice gives you options. Options? Really? "To page this person...." If I wanted to "page this person", I would have, oh I don't know.... PAGED THEM. "To send this message as urgent" Guess what, if this message was urgent; its too freakin late, Timmy has fallen down the well and Lassie was hit by a car trying to run for help. Unfortunately the motorist was texting someone and didn't see him.
I could go on but you get the gist.

So where was I; oh yeah, one step closer to forty. Again, I love to whine, but lets look at the facts. I have a job, a wonderful wife, and two amazing children, who just get more amazing every day. Not only am I healthy enough to swim with them, I am blessed to have the time to. As far as friends are concerned, I am truly one of the richest men alive. I have the best friends you could ask for. People that have supported me, nurtured me, tolerated me, and made me a better person. Which is saying something, when it comes to me; cause I'm way over rated.

Not to get dramatic, but we live in world of suffering. This is a tough time for so many. Our country is experiencing what I can only describe as growing pains. We have so many people with so much, and even more with so little. We have the technology to pinpoint it, and identify it, but we are still behind the curve in terms of fixing it. I often wonder if things have always been as they are; and that we are the same puppets on the same stage as our forefathers, and their forefathers before them. Rather, the only difference in then and know being our ability to see our frailties. Metaphorically its the same old humanity, just standing in front of a much clearer mirror.

I could ramble on, but I have things to do. I would simply say to those of you that peruse this blog, thank you and god bless you.

Sincerely,

A Grateful Pirate

"C is for Conifer"

2009-07-20T07:30:00.000-07:00

So it's Sunday night, sometime after 9:00, and this kid (early twenty's) is flying down the ice; freezes a defense men in his tracks, blows by him and raises his stick to shoot. I'm loose at this point, I had a good practice earlier, so I'm well stretched and warm. I am beyond out of shape. I my be the unhealthiest Goalie in the history of the sport at this point. Anyway, I slide out to the top of the crease to cut the angle. I came out the second this kid picked up the puck. There are certain players on the ice that you are always plugged into, such that when they move you move. Other players you see as less dangerous, but if this guy blinks; I blink.

So he raises his stick to shoot, and in a second drops the stick like a hammer, and the puck whistles at me like a bullet out of gun. Its that fast. I hear the pop of the shot, and then the pop in my glove. My pointer finger is numb. The sting of the shot caught my finger just well enough, to remove any thoughts sensation for the next several hours.

That's not interesting though. What is interesting, is that as all of this drama is unfolding around me like a scene in a great Western; I am playing the soundtrack from my children's favorite CD. I have children's music in my head. Shout out to my boys, "They Might be Giants" and their wicked cool, ABC'S CD. Righteous stuff. Honestly, I feel like Barney at the "Head-Bangers Ball". Sadly, it is probably how I appear to the other players.

I like Pick-Up games, cause you have such a range of talent, going anywhere from retired semi-pro's, former college players, all the way down to..... me. Their were other Goalies there with snarling animals painted on their helmets, gliding from side to side making every save look effortless and easy. Then, by point of contrast, I find myself out of breath just watching the puck as close as I can stabbing and swatting, just trying to get by. I would imagine that players watching me get a real "shark infested bloody water/ lion thins the herd" kind of feel. You can always tell which side I'm on because of the unmistakable frozen puddles of drool around the crease.

In closing, for those of you who are my friends and are forever chiding me about my self deprecation; I have but one thing to share with you. Yes, I really do suck that bad. Really.

my first womens magazine

2009-07-13T07:18:00.000-07:00

So I'm picking up my usual coffee at the local mini-mart, and the latest issue of Cosmopolitan catches my eye. Generally I don't pay much attention to these things, other than the over-all observation that with the right amount of air-brushing, I would look hot on the cover of these magazines.

Article title reads:
"125 sex moves" Now there is eye catcher. First of all, and I don't mean to brag (Really), but that's like 122 more sex moves than I know. Talk about curiosity killing the cat. This is more like; "The curious cat was found dead in a pretzel shape, with his tail disappeared but not removed. This reported would like to add that this is perhaps the only time he has seen a cat smile. Felix will be missed, but we can all take solace in the knowledge that he is, or was in a better place in his last moments. Back to you Stu."

Next Article:
The Orgasm Whisperer (Every Woman Should have one). Scary. I know. Personally, I think if every man had one of these then many more women would be happy. Just me? Probly not.

Was it awkward purchasing this magazine from a 72 year old lady? Perhaps a little. Was it worth it? Like the commercial says priceless.

Funny thing though, I could swear when I was leaving the store I heard that nice little old lady say, "hmmmm that's 4 more moves than I know"

Bull Kills Man at Spanish Festival

2009-07-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

Now. For the record. If I have already blogged about this I apologize. Secondly, I do feel for the friends and family of the individual noted in this article. So here is basically what the article outlines.

"1 dead at Pamplona; first goring death since '95
9 others injured in unusually dangerous chapter of the running of the bulls"

Hmmmmm. "unusually dangerous"? So this particular episode of the running of the bulls was somehow more dangerous than previous "bull runnings". Folk(s) there are just some things in this world I don't understand. Carnival people (Carnies), anything pertaining to Physics, and "the running of the bulls". I don't get it? I don't. They get bulls. People. Put the people in front of the bulls. and run them. You know there is a word for this. Its called trampling. Probably would hurt the whole tourist attraction thing if it were called "the Trampling of the Bulls".

People might argue that it tradition, and history. So was the plague; and you won't find me on vacation kissing rats.

The article went on to mention a particular bull in this incident named Cappuccino.
"A brown, 1,130-pound bull named Cappuccino fell early in the run and ended up on its own."

1,130 pounds of bull. I like this part of the article which outlines Bull behavior:
"The bulls covering the half-mile course with six accompanying steers tend to mind their own business and keep running as long as they stay in a pack. A bull that gets separated is more likely to get spooked and aggressive and that is just what happened Friday."

"Spooked and Aggressive"? Hmmmmmmmm. Folks, were not talking about squirrels here. You can't tell me that ordinarily a group of bulls being herded down a crowded street towards people is somehow safer. Here's why. At some point you stop measuring safety levels. Me, I start at Bulls named after energy beverages. I also stop at anything over a 1,000 pds with horns. Actually, I pretty much just stop at horns.

This is indeed a tragedy, and I hate it for those who have lost loved ones in such an event; but come on, I mean. Really. I'm looking for a word to top stupid, and frankly I'm drawing a blank.

Godsmack

2009-07-07T06:39:00.000-07:00

I think there is a band called "Godsmack". Not sure. Don't care. Totally different angle. So last night I'm doing that thing I do at work. I help people. Anyways, I'm getting ready to leave and this lady walks up to me and asks, "Are you John?".

I soooo badly want to say no. I see where this is going. I am so on the tracks, and so not the train. I am thinking to myself that I am tired, that I want to go home; and that I don't want to deal with anymore schnit.

The lady looks like hell. Her hair is a mess. She is missing most of her front teeth. She is not in shoes. She is overweight and her clothes are too small. She looks like every person I have ever seen interviewed after a tornado hit a trailer park. She is of the ilk that if you listen hard enough you can hear people chanting "JERRY JERRY JERRY".

So she says to me. "You don't remember me do you?" I am trying to be polite and mention that I see literally hundreds of people a year. But she continues, "I remember you" "You helped my daughter out with her Bi-polar thing" She said, "I remember all the things you told me about looking in the mirror and saying I love you to myself ten times a day" "I thought you where a crazy mot^&rf*cker". To which I replied, "I am".

At this point I begin to feel smaller and stupider. It begins to sink in that this lady wants to say thank you. Nothing more.

"I remember you were funny. You were crackin all them jokes. You told me things would be hard, but that I could do it" "Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to care about my little girl". She shook my hand and walked away.

To me, that is Godsmack. That is Gods way of telling me to get my head out of my ass. It is gods way of indicating why I do this job. It is gods reminder that I don't get to choose who I help, or who chooses to be helped. That even though I am so very impressed with the wonderfulness that is me; I'm a speck of dirt on the stage that is his.

My point, I think.....lies somewhere in maintaining a healthy perspective. Be genuine and caring. I would like to hope that I am still as genuine as I was, and that despite my venomous sense of humor; I still care and maintain a presence when it gets down to the nut cutting. To the place where caring matters most, and simply shutting up and listening does more than sarcasm.

I find experiences like these both empowering and alarming. Empowering is self explanatory. Alarming falls under the category of an internal dialogue in my head that says "Pay attention dummy. Don't judge. Don't short change."

Have a great day.

I didn't play hockey last night

2009-05-21T05:55:00.001-07:00

Last night I didn't play hockey. I didn't get the opportunity to release all of the angst and frustration from an otherwise overwhelming, and difficult day. No, I had to stay home and put my kids to bed. I had to read to them. I had to play chess with my daughter. I decided to play a little harder since she is improving, and I want her to learn to lose well and win graciously.

She is my daughter. She is ultra-competitive, just like her father. So I brace her for the concept that she might actually lose to her papa. She basically says, "OK daddy, but then I want to go back to beating you". I think we both like it better that way.

Three moves in my daughter castles, and it occurs to me that fools mate is not only not an option, but that I may have to replace the gerbil with a slightly larger hamster on the wheel that fires the neurons in my brain. We play on. She is tired, unfocused, and adorable. Eventually, I win. She smiles at me. I tell her how proud I am of her, and what a great little chess player she is. She is happy. We play again. She wins.

Hockey is for sissies. My kids rock.

PTFBD

2009-03-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

I have Post Traumatic Facebook Disorder. This occurs when you get on face book and remember how fucked up your life was, and why none of these people bothered to call you for twenty something years. I wonder how many suicides have been connected to this insidious device.

I can see the note now, "Turns out I really do suck" "Thanks for not inviting me to the reunion ...." Its pretty wild actually. I wonder how it plays out in terms of pricks and such. Have the pricks of old evolved into a kinder gentler penis? Or are they just old Pricks?

I admit to mostly fond memories and forlorn disappointments in my pathetic high school football career watch unfortunately serves as a litmus test for me existence (SCAAAARRRY).

I confess to nothing. I remember being mostly uncool, in an over exuberant attempt to be cool. Generally speaking ..... I sucked. I was funny enough to be amusing, but unfunny enough to be viewed as obnoxious. I did try to swim or fly or whatever awkward shit teenagers do to fit in, and I did it all without the use of marijuana; and with the mildly debilitating qualities of Panic Attacks with night time on set, and some actual PTSD. Fortunately I was barely humorous enough to myself to keep the joke that was me afloat.

Where was I..... Aaaah yes facebook. I guess "serial killers paradise dot com" was taken. I know I sound bitter. Resentful of all the other who's. Not so. I adored the other who's, and even longed to be one. OK it really wasn't that important to me, I just wanted to get laid. Still those whose with their ..... all blinging and blanging.... and clinging and clanging.... Made the old Grinch (oooh this is good) green with envy. Get it green? Grinch? Envy???? Just me? OK my bad.....

thats all I got. sleep well.

Happy St. Patricks Day

2009-03-17T19:17:00.000-07:00

First off this joke is too easy so I'm gonna take a pass. If you don't get the oxymoronic irony, than you probably can't be helped anyway.

Anyways I'm listening to one of these "Classic Rock Stations", you know the one who's dee-jay moniker is like, "Granola Sandalwood". Anyway Granola bar decides that since today is Saint Patricks day, the day that Saint Patrick drove all of the Snakes off of an island which wasn't inhabited by snakes got me to thinking. What happens when people stop drinking? People with drinking problems? Anyone?.... Anyone?

They see snakes. Its documented. I can personally vouch for about thirty personal encounters, and one very personal encounter back in college. So is it Saint Patrick's Day, or National Detox and Withdrawls from Alcohol day? Just a little Guinness for thought.

So Granola decides she is going to play a song by Yoko Ono and John Lennon, "The Luck of the Irish" Here are they lyrics:

Ok, one, two, three, one two, three

If you had the luck of the irish,

You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.

You should have the luck of the irish,

And you'd wish you was english instead.

A thousand years of torture and hunger,

Drove the people away from their land.

A land full of beauty and wonder

Was raped by the british brigands

!Goddamned!Goddamned!

If you could keep voices like flowers,

There's be shamrock all over the world.

If you could drink dreams like irish streams,

Then the world would be as high as the mountain of morn.

In the 'pool they told us the story

How the english divided the land.

Of the pain and the death and the glory

And the poets of auld eireland.

If we could make chains with the morning dew,

The world would be like galway bay.

Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns,

The world would be one big blarney stone

.Why the hell are the english there anyway?

As they kill with God on their side!

Blame it all on the kids and the i.r.a.

As the bastards commit genocide!

Aye! aye!Genocide!Okay!

You should have the luck of the irish,

You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.

You should have the luck of the irish,

And you'd wish you was english instead.

One more time!

You should have the luck of the irish,

You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.

You should have the luck of the irish,

And you'd wish you was english instead,

Hey, yes, you'd wish you were english instead.

Niiiice. Really Niiice. Don't look for Billy Joel to be remaking this classic anytime soon. In fact, lets not look for anyone to re-anything this anytime soon. Sorta like Gansta Rap and Herpes. I know its out there, I just don't need to see it. And I gotta tell ya, nothin chops through brutal lyrics like that songbird voice of Yoko. Ouch. I'm tone def, and that shit hurt. Damn. Its like trying to weed your flower garden with a brick.

And here's irony for ya.

You've got John Lennon, the voice of generations. A messenger of peace and Love. Easily considered one of the greats by young and old. Then. Sitting next to him, we find an Extra-Terrestrial wearing Glasses that Elton John wouldn't be caught dead in. Talk about Imagine?

Well, we already know that love is blind, so I guess this is proof positive that love is deaf.

On Rush Limbaugh

2009-03-04T05:46:00.000-08:00

Are you kidding me? Are you really serious? In an article I read on msnbc.com,

Republicans seeks balance with Limbaugh
GOP struggles to keep icon's conservative base while wooing moderates
written by By Perry Bacon Jr. for the Washington Post.com

Mr. Bacon (really) notes some of the recent controversy surrounding remarks made by Rush Limbaugh which apparently managed to offend many Democrats, and possibly alienate an already fragmenting Republican party. Hmmmmmmm where do I start. So basically the Republicans want to keep Limbaugh's popularity, and lose some of his "radio-active" antics. Talk about taking pork off the pig, Mr. Bacon. That's like trying to sell Spam as a healthy Snack. The very concept is Oxymoronic (pun intended) indeed.

Here's another gem

"Few Republicans are eager to alienate Limbaugh's millions of avid listeners." Don't you mean "rabid listeners". Listeners? Do people really listen to this guy? And I know the answer is yes? And I know that Professional Wrestling is the top rated show on Cable/Satellite/Cellphone/Porta-Potty Vision. Yes Virginia there really is a Santa Clause, But he is not this whiny, fat, bloated, hypocritical, mass of wasted oxygen.

OK, I get it. This is a difficult time for our country. We have a new administration. We are looking down the barrel at a lot of change. There are a lot of people for this new administration, and a lot of people against this administration. Or economy is in crisis. Yes "Rome is essentially Burning" so to speak; but before we can even begin to dissect or analyze the issues at hand, do we really want to turn to Rush Limbaugh for commentary? On anything? This guy has made a living off of whining and hypocrisy. Some people would call him a watch dog. I would call him an idiot. Some would say courageous. I would say stupid.

Honestly, I could give a flip whether you are Republican, Democrat, Independent, Libertarian. At least do yourself the favor of listening to someone with sense. Yes there was a wise man from the bible who cried out from the wilderness. A man who ate locust and honey. However, there are also a lot of crazy hermits running around in the woods getting stung by bees, and frankly I'm not listening to them either.

Here's a test. If you listen to someone and all that they ever say is negative, hateful, and injected with venom (except me, of course), then maybe their view on life is a little skewed.

This is arguably one of the most critical times in our nations history, we owe it to ourselves and our children to be at-least informed.

In like a Lion

2009-03-02T11:35:00.000-08:00

Well March is coming in like a Lion. I like Lion's. Its my sign. I'm a Leo. Which if you follow Astrology as close as I do then you understand that I am a very loyal narcissist. Which is to say, I'm all about me, and if I like you. You.

Male Lions, in the wild, as I understand it; primarily sleep and mate. Good job if you can get it. Of course I know about as much about nature as I do astrology so don't quote me.

Anyways, its March, snowy, and cold. If anyone see's that fr#%n wood-chuck. Let me know.... I'll sick my Lion on em. :)

a Call to Arms

2009-02-27T13:08:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-21T08:32:00.000-08:00

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!!!!!!!!!!

2009-02-14T04:13:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-09T11:53:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-07T05:23:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-02T20:08:00.000-08:00

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".

Traditional Pregnancy Test

2009-01-25T18:13:00.000-08:00

This just in..... Apparently one in four woman can misread a "traditional pregnancy test" Well thank god for Clear Blue Easy. Apparently there is now an easier way to determine if your pregnant than the BLUE line. That would be the "your pregnant" BLUE line. But wait there's more. This how they've improved the concept, for now if your pregnant Clear Blue Easy "Digital" prints the word "Pregnant" on the test for you.

Hmmmmmmmm. Possible flaws? I can think of a few. Firstly, if you are so stupid that you could not interpret the original Clear Blue Easy pregnancy test, then it occurs to me that you probably can't read. More-over if you can't follow the "BLUE" its you, then pregnancy itself might be a mystery in its own.... "So the guy says Rubbers, hell these things don't work. I been wearing one for 3 weeks and I caught a cold"

The Perfect Storm

2009-01-21T13:22:00.000-08:00

You know sometimes things just seem to conspire together. The "Fates" as it were. There are just some days when god puts just the right amount of stupid, with a pinch of confusion, two table spoons of arrogance, one family that has several appearances on "Springer"; neatly combined with a Nurse who knows enough amateurs psychology to be...... stupid. Not so much dangerous. Maybe dangerously stupid. Yeah. Fits (dangerously stupid). Topped off with a Dr who's sarcasm and impulse control make yours truly seem both dull and methodical. A Dr. Who would make House MD. cry. Oh. and me.

Part I. It begins (clouds on the horizon)

So on my way in this morning I call to check on said individual I am working with on placement for some of his "issues"; and I get his nurse on the phone. We'll call her "Madame Empathy" or "Miss Co-Dependant" at this point. So MS. E starts rambling on about how the patient is fine, that he is just "miss understood". "a child robbed of his youth".... "Clearly the victim in all of this"Bla bla bla, and the kicker here comes in with the, and I hate this part, the "You know what I mean?" Like somehow I'm in the loop with this lady. Were kindred. Compadres out to heal the world............... This would be where the headache just starts to form.

Arrival confirms my suspicions. The woman..... Is..... an idiot. Which is ok in certain scenario's, not so much this particular happenstance. I continue further discourse with said Nurse reveals that she has gotten along sooooooooooo famously with our patient that he has agreed to get a flu shot. Hazaaaaaaaaa. Making the world Vomit Free for you and Me....

Part II. The interview (Darkening Skies)

So I'm interviewing Cato here, and he notes that suddenly he has an unusual muscle spasm in his arm and shoulder. Not clear why or how. I take note and we continue the interview. Pain "reportedly" gets worse and moves to his neck. At this point lacking any medical knowledge I defer to the MD who confirms my suspicion that said individual is "faking". Still, such that I am unsure of even how to confront "faking" I go back in to continue, only to find that the "spasms" are worse, and now he is having trouble seeing.

Know to fully appreciate the bad acting that is taking place, imagine auditioning to be an extra on the old television show Chips, only not to receive a call back. Its like bad porn acting. Only worse somehow. A monologue on Miami Vice. You know the kind of stuff that hurts.

Part III. (Impending vitriolic storm)

So lets surmise. At this point, I am in a holding pattern because I can no longer fully asses the client because, He appears to be pretending to physically decompensate and I am waiting to see his next move (both out of fascination and curiosity). However, my job dictates I have other tasks to perform so whilst I am away the stupid come out to play. Let me clarify. As soon as I step down the hall Nurse Ratchet/Nightingale takes it upon herself to continue her assessment of this poor lost soul, and has now managed to either knowingly and or unknowingly create the possibility of this becoming a legal matter. So here I am trying to tolerate Ray Charles dinner theater, when I get up for intermission only to return to The Helen Keller Story. Fortunately I had Dr. Phils personal dog trainer (Nurse wackit) to explain the behaviors for me.

Part IV. (And then it rained)

Finishing up another matter I am summoned by a policeman to talk to the patient. In walking into the room I find what I can only call more proof of evolution and a stronger case for birth control than I wanted or expected to see. Apparently Mamma, Daddy, Jethro, Cletus, Clovis, and the entire Nascar racing team for Oxy Codone had come to support their "Boy". Touching moment really. Ok not so much. Upon my entrance into this small room I find the patient now sticking his tongue out to perhaps mimick the rarely identified Tardic Dyskenesthia with rapid onset. Its like anafalactic shock, only without the shock. No sweat, tremors........ nothing really, just faking. However, apparently the Clampet family has not had the opportunity to purview some of the finer theatrics life has to offer so the are encapsulated and enraptured with our young wounded swan. I get the "You ain't takin my boy..........." "What are gonna do about......" "You look just like a pig........" Kind of questions.

Now I do manage to settle the mob, with the mere use of a lighter and the promise of tickets to the upcoming Wrestle Mania. I am now viewed as a Deity. I can make fire and create passes to the greatest Wrestling Event Known to man. So I'm starting to piss this fire down at least to some degree when it happens.

Part V. Lightning Crashes the Party

Now, it has been said that some doctors lack tact. Low some Doctors are even narcissistic at times. And granted as one progresses further up on the food chain of intelligence, one can tend to lose some of the fruit of social skill so to speak. And Speak he did. This guy. This Doctor who presents with the dry humor akin to British Culture, and A sense of Aloof entitlement sometimes seen with those of German Descent ("not only do you suck, but sadly you are not me").

So are hero enters stage right. Family begins to question prince empathy about "their boy". And sure as I'm typing this they got all the answers with both barrels. Dr. Mengela when one family member stated,
" he can't go anywhere like this" responded with

"well he's not goin in my car." Silence. Again the natives stand in awe as if the great man has produced beads mirrors and fire water.

Another family member makes reference to the client being "crazy" to which the Doctor responds " "thats for sure". Which was when I left.

Part VI (time for shelter)

I had finally had enough. I was afraid of the questions the family would ask, and more afraid of the Doctors Responses. Much more. I did upon exiting instruct one of the deputies to not "take his eye off the Doctor" as for fear of retribution for his communicable disease (communication).

At this point I am walking down the hall shaking my head, trying to figure out if what I just saw really happened. Really?

So the Doc orders further tests for our boy and the family is instructed to leave by the police, and things are somewhat right with the world. Standing quietly next to Dr. Strangelove I mention, kind of stammeringly, " Read any good books on Empathy lately? " A poor nurse who had to witness this whole afternoon almost fell out of her chair laughing. And then when the Dr looks at me and says "what?" She pretty much did (fall out of her chair).

I began to try and recount some of his dialogue with the family. Like the parts when He explained that the client was "faking it" in such a way that I could only define as incendiary. Shortly into this dialogue I realized the futility of my point. This was a man who redefines blunt. A man who both walks loudly and carries a big stick... With a hammer on the end.

My favorite part came when I left the scene of the crime where two policemen where trying to maintain order, and he is explaining to the worried family why their son is full of shit. I walk out shaking my head and there is nurse stupid. Piningly she looks into the room and says, " l love working with him" I think referring to the Doctor. I am tired, frustrated, and worried about a Dr. who's social ineptitude is only eclipsed by his medical genius; and I simply walk drudgingly toward my car looking forward to a time when I can peacefully share this story with you the readers.

wii or should I say weeeeeeeeeee

2009-01-16T19:05:00.000-08:00

Oh were to begin. The shame of it all really. I finally broke down and got a wii for the kids (lie, all about me). I've heard all the great hoopla and balderdash, about the great wii. The excitement, the fitness craze, the ability to get car sick in your own living room. So far. All true.

As per fitness, I don't know if these thing is good exercize, or an indicator of just how out of shape I am. I'm most certain the latter. After using solid fundamentals and dismantling my first four opponents (computer replicated) with apparent ascention in difficulty, I barely had time to be impressed with myself as I watched my three year old drop a 3rd round decision to my would be fifth opponent. It was about six minutes of "yeah daddy" arm flailing and button pushing. It was like watching hobbits re-enact a baseball fight.

Even as I type this my arms are sore. Sore from the boxing? Maybe. Perhaps the grueling 1 game tennis sets, or the three innings of bobble-head baseball. To whit, I threw more junk than Phil Niekro at the Seniors All-star Game.

Still, I am excited. Motivated, challenged. I will continue my quest to be or to wii the best boxer I can be. Tomorrow. Bowling.

Good times I tell ya. Good times. If this isn't old, got help me when I become it.

And so we blog........

2009-01-13T19:15:00.001-08:00

I had the distinct privilege of attending a party with my wife Saturday evening. Something I find to be a somewhat rare treat. Now granted, we did have kids in tow, so party... not so much. Still I love any scenario where human beings gather to socialize. At times it is just interesting. While at other times I feel like a large crocodile sitting in a small pond in the African Savanna on a hot hot day.

The party. My wife's friends who are primarily composed of engineer types, and some collegiate effluents scattered about. Mostly wife's friends co-workers. You know the usual suspects. I'll start with the ever popular, Boss.Tonights version was a true classic.

The boss.

Guy walks in and the first thing I hear is that he is from Texas. Not just from Texas, but from Texas in that, "I'm from Texas and your not" kind of way. Not that I had time to think that it could get worse, but it went ahead and did without my approval. The boss of course brought "the bosses wife" again, another archetypal figure. Enough make-up and jewelery ensconced such that at any moment I felt as though we could go live to Televangelist event. To further heighten the mood she was as politically incorrect as she was tacky. Nothing like leading off a party dialogue with discussions about conflicts between the Republic of Georgia, and Russia; with residents from both countries. Thank god for social skills, and I suspect liquor. The woman actually quoted Rodney King, with the famous/infamous "Can't we all just get along?"

I'm not making this up. I'm not that creative. Cynically based comedic type that I be, I immediately start looking for something to write on, paper, napkin, tree bark. Anything to truly do justice to this social event which is unfolding before me.

And oh yes, just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water.... I look up and standing before me, is a man approximately 7 feet 14 inches tall, wearing the ugliest shirt I have ever seen in my life. Again please bear in mind, that I am impulse control challenged. I am already fighting back urges here that strain my better judgement. To speak Fruedian, if I dare, my Id is Really wanting to come off the chain. REEEEEEEEEEeaally.

"Just don't look at the shirt. Don't look at it. it's hideous. Even for paisley. I don't even now that shade of ..... don't look at the shirt ..... green exists".

The boss interjects (hand to god, happened) "That's a nice shirt Where'd ya g....." I begin to feel faint, laughter building need to comment overwhelming. Spirit of Louis Black rising from within.

I step away for a moment to get some air. My blessed spouse who is observant but perhaps not completely. Walks over to me, noting my flush color (I get flush when I want to laugh at people and can't). She asked me

"what is it?" I look incredulously at her "No really what?" Again I am dumbfounded "WHAT".

At this point I turn to her friend (our) and say, "now. you know me right? (she nodds) And you know my sense of humor (second nodd)? Do ya think right now is the best time to inquire as to my thoughts in any anecdotal manner?" Slight giggle. Point taken.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah calm. I breathe. Happy unfunny thoughts. Happy Zen moments.

Nope. The fertile ground of humor continues to spill forth. I am trapped between a right-wing Christendom view of Russian Politics, and a fashion show for Frankensteins Monster, complete with a discussion about socks. Socks? At least it can't get any worse................. I swear I think I heard god laugh when I thought this.

For it now seems the boss has started a discussion about his weekly morning YOGA routine on his wii game console. Complete with showing us his new poses. Now while I am thrilled that this man is seeking eastern treatments for relaxation and overall improvement of health, despite full knowledge that as a Christian from Texas he will surely burn in Hell with all the Democrats and small foreign car owners. I really didn't need to see his "warrior pose" or his "dangling downward dog" thing right there in the living room.

And dare I say it, suddenly I am trapped in a Yoga discussion I can't escape, eyes burning from this boot wearing freaks flexibility I turn quickly away only to find some woman's buttocks squarely in my face. Yes that's right, there's always one at every party. The "one upper". This woman also felt the need to display her flexibility so she promptly bent over completely. Which again was odd, because she was placed such and I was standing such that essentially all I could see was butt. Nothing else. Just Butt.

Again my mind began to swim and I escaped to the kitchen.

Silence. Sweet sweet dulcid silence. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Best 4 seconds of the night. For the next thing I know. The butt comes in and sits down across from me. I play it cool. My wife comes in, and despite the fear that she might say anything at anytime, to trigger uncontrollable and inconsolable mirth on my part, I am a rock. Steady and Strong.

Then it happens. And for those of you out there who aren't as "party savvy" as myself; a word to the wise, "stay away from accordion chatter my friends". The accordion might seem like a safe topic but in the hands of the socially inept, Pandora's harmonica can lead you on a bad bad solo.

Daughter comes down. For the sake of time and deference to Dr. Seuss, I will call her "Thing one". Thing one complains to mom (buttock lady) that her sister (thing 2) will not share the accordion. Mom is patient and tells thing one to be as well (patient). Some moments later Father of Things one and two, and spouse of buttock, who of course is none-other than the big footed fashion terror from a big and tall shop for the near sighted and sexually disoriented men of the north woods, steps forth and decrees that yes the accordion will be shared much to thing two's discontent.

At this point I am exhausted. I have had 1,327 jokes all running through my head at once. Most of which are neither kind, nor funny to anyone but myself and possibly the late Sam Kinneson; and in moment of weakness I turn to ass lady and say, "You know its ironic, cause most people don't even like the accordion".

This was her response:

"When I was in college I had a gym teacher who used to play the accordion. Every night, alone in his room, he would play beautifully. Many times I would walk by and just listen. Some nights I even sat out on the grass, like a little concert. It was dark so he couldn't see out, but I could see in (anywhere at this point the word naked would have truly improved the quality of this story). He was quite surprised one day when I complemented him on his playing (any reference to stalking or restraining orders would have also heightened this particular piece). "

I was speechless. Moved. Not to tears. Or at-least tears of happiness or kindness. I was cornered really. This poor man dragged from his secret closet life of accordion playing. Gym teacher by day, sissy pirate musician by night. The scandal

If I had a choice at this point I probably would have said, "that's gin" got up and walked out of the house; as it was however, my wife and children were present such that I retrieved them and we departed happily for home. I enjoyed the privilege of sharing the party through my eyes with her and together we both agreed that it was time for us to purchase a wii.

Happy New Year ADDDDD Style!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-01-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

They say better late than never. But then they also say that size doesn't matter. I guess it depends on who your cell mate is. Me I'm still scared to see my Doctor for a physical, so forgive me if "visions of the Shawshank Redemption" don't go dancing through my head.

But I digress. Often really. Pity is, I don't know what digress means. I just now that smart people do it when writing from time to time.

So it is the New Year. What do I propose to do? To Change? To enact upon?

I think this year I will shoot for........
Gratefulness. I will aim to appreciate my blessings.
Tact. I have no shot at this but whilst I'm wishing.
Patience. See Tact.

I will strive to be the best father I can be to my children every day. I will forgive myself when I can't and push myself even farther because I can.

Forgiveness. I will work to forgive .............. what-ever crap I'm still pouting about from earlier in my life (See football).

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I will strive for follow through. Completion of tasks. Mundane tasks. Complicated tasks. I am the most non follow through futhermuker I know. Surprised? Check the date on this New Years Blog. Hell I don't even drink. Its the Sixth. I think.

This year I will be........... taller comes to mind. Not really sure why. I will Smile more this year. I will work to not sweat the small stuff. Maybe this will help me to not sweat the big schnit.

Anyways, who-ever you are, or wherever you are on this big honkin planet, may the god of your choosing bless and keep you safe in its arms.

j

Virtual Reality and Jumbo Shrimp

2008-12-30T08:41:00.000-08:00

So I can't sleep which is a common theme in my life, and I'm watching television, an equally troublesome and possibly more hazardous dilemma; and I come across a documentary on the legal merits of virtual reality. Apparently this virtual reality thing has really caught on in cyber-space. Really. So I'm watching this show which is having a real dialogue about property values and rights, and even taxable stuff which are resultant to simulated world(s) in cyber space.

So me generally not the brightest bulb in the lamp, already flickering dim at "god-knows-when" in the morning, jaw gradually dropping incredulously as the Stanford University Lawyer weighs in on the merits of "virtual cyber crime" have now found myself staring at the television akin to that of a deer just before going into the "air-bag deploying" light as it were.

As if we don't have enough issues to deal with now people are scamming simulated people out of simulated products. Or are simulated people scamming simulated people out of simulated products. Its like some kind of nightmarish 70's sci-fi movie meets Dr. Seuss.

I mean... I couldn't keep up. They talked to a cyber entrepreneur who brought cyber property which is now worth some ridiculous amount of "American Dollars". The term "American Dollars" also kept popping up. Bear in mind I periodically checked to make sure that I was on the documentary channel (talk about careful what you wish for) and not comedy central.

I think the kicker for me occurred when the guy showed the simulated people walking into the simulated stock exchange. The dude was creating a simulated "stock market". Furthermore Cato here wants people to buy stock and is trying to elicit real stock markets to list on his exchange. At this point I think even Elron Hubbard is going "what the duck?" and is channel surfing to some male enhancement infomercials. Now there's a dream. I want to go on television smiling and talking about a pill that enhances my satellite reception. Yeah. Lets record that for later.

To close I would posit that virtual reality, though intriguing, and even perhaps alluring to those seeking to escape the mess that is our world; is just that an escape. To whit unfortunately when the ostrich sticks it metaphorical head in the sand to hide, the world keeps spinning, and bad stuff still happens. So I say expend the energy improving reality, then go play in the dark.

Buddhist Journalism

2008-12-29T09:44:00.000-08:00

OK. So its Monday. All day. Monday is a great day to question......... everything. Why? Why me? Why bother? When? When will it stop? Why did it start in the first place? What was I thinking when I? And for the love of Pete, how will I? Furthermore if I ever find out who? who was responsible for all of this then....

I think I have it now. I just need to find out where?

Its Sunday Night......... and its raining

2008-12-28T22:04:00.000-08:00

Its Sunday night and its raining. A peaceful soft rain. Loud enough to have a presence. Not so much irritating like drizzle; or disconcerting like a downpour. Downpour exist simply to display my ineptitude at building a back porch with pavers, while allowing me to excel at "shop-vacuuming", which I have recently petitioned to be a new Olympic sport. Hey with all the time Curling got in the Olympics, why not bring in a shop-vac. Better yet, maybe we could use a shop vac to harass Curlers. I would watch that.
"Earl is lined up to slide his rock. His partner Edwardo has his broom at the ready"
"But what's here comes Jon in from the right with his shop vac. Oh and he has the extender accessory, I believe double bonus." "Edwardo swats at Jon with the broom, but its too late. He's been sucked." "Game set and Vac to Jon, the first ever gold medal Shop-Curler-Vacumer". "Do you believe in miracles!!!!'

OK just me. Little sidetracked there. Probably just the rain talking. But I digress, it is 10:00 at night 70 degrees outside, in a part of the United States that nothing out-doors should be 70 degrees. Frankly, I am too ignorant and tired to rant about Global Warming (but it's too hot), and too tired. I just wanted to share a couple of quick thoughts before bed. So sleep well out there who-ever you are or think you are, or are afraid you are. Tomorrows another day here Earth, and the trend looks to continue onward for the rest of the week.

Peace

j

twas the day after christmas

2008-12-26T03:53:00.000-08:00

Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
crap was strewn haphazardly about
covering even our pet mouse
the stockings were spilled on the couch and the chair
It was readily apparent that someone had been there.

When what to my tired old ears should I hear, but two blaring robots doing battle quite near
I achingly stood to see what was the matter as my children did argue and chatter and chatter
I thought to myself who could cause such commotion and I new in a flash
the cause of locomotion

SANTA CLAUSE

A very old elf, who was lonely and strange
known only to keep company with the small and deranged
he was rumored to sneak about town once a year
climbing on rooftops with what he claimed were "flying reindeer"

Passing toys out to children whom scarcely he met
while he smiled and winked
such a thought left me dripping with sweat

Who was this strange man I thought to myself
who could pose right among us and not seem a threat

As I watched parents and children standing in lines
all desperately seeking to share money and time
with this man this conundrum who couldn't be write

I must google I thought to understand why. Or how such a thing could occur
without cause or exposure
Freud like implications
made me almost lose my composure

So I typed in the keys in my querriless search
and found the cause of this perilous learch

Plain as day it popped up on my screen in my den
It was Coca Cola that caused such chagrin

How obvious and clear it all came to me then
that this conglomerate incorporation could spin
such a perilous web and create such a stir
all leading back to small can of acidic drink nestled
in a neatly wrapped tin (can of coke).

I listened to each boy and girl
telling tales of the toys their parents
would have to endure

the idea to my notion was so very haughty
how could this creepy old man dare call children naughty

so I thought to myself trying to drift of to sleep
confused in my slumber which would scarcely by deep
how humans at time could tend to be sheep
going further they dared call that poor old Grinch a creep

At least he kept to himself
only drawn from his cave
with such loud clanging and clatter
where such a matter legal
clearly an insane defense would possibly matter

Happy Holidays to all
and to all..................... a good night

Happy Kwanzihanimas

2008-12-23T12:40:00.000-08:00

Happy Kwanzihanimas!!!!

To one and all. What better way to celebrate this Wintry Celebration marked with everything from Druidic Pagan Rituals, Candles, Songs, Coca Cola the proud sponsors of Santa Claus, and the Jehovah's Witnesses (god luv em) for their celebration of well............. nothing. Hmmmm. Nothing. Interesting.

Still I think today, there is an argument for nothing. This is where you ask yourself, is this going to be one of those diatribes about how Christmas has gone too Commercial.

In a word. Probly. Honestly, I don't know where it falls out. It is the season giving, receiving, football, and nothing. It is a magical time for many children. A time to recognize who truly blessed many of us are; and sadly many are not. We remember love ones lost, celebrate love ones found; on the Dr. Phil show we celebrate Love ones who lost weight only to find Love ones who were actually distant cousins and confront them on there drug use.

Honestly this Christmas, I am lost. If you watch the news, everything is bad getting worse. Still it takes an hour to park at the mall, just to go shopping. Granted I don't live in a Microcosm of society. Microsoftsiety maybe, still not the same thing.

I just have trouble finding meaning in the whole thing. Which of course immediately centers me to my children. Which is where I find most of my meaning. Christmas is still magical to them. Which is cool. Of course life itself to many children is magical. The true magic I suppose lies in not losing the magic itself. Presently I feel like someone sandblasted all of the magic off of me. I'm not ready to tie an antler on a dog and steal presents from my neighbors or anything, I think I'm just jaded and saturated with this holiday in which we take a brief timeout from our worlds to be kind (this excludes mall parking, and shopping lines) to others. Maybe if we could reverse things and say be nice most of the time; say maybe 357 days of the year, and be rude on just a few days. Yes I think I have it now. There is a good idea. Nothing but niceness for the majority of our lives, excluding a few minor holidays.

We could have "dick day", when everyone is a dick to everyone else. This could be marked with selfishness, greed, and over all self centered behavior.

"Lie to your spouse day" a celebration of infidelity. Which could be followed with or replaced by Valentines day, depending on how your, "Lie to Your Spouse Day" turns out.

Halloween Rocks. No changes. Maybe more eggs.

St Patricks day could be, angry drunk day. This would only require minor calendrical adjustments, and you could punch anyone wearing green.

I'll stop now before I delve any further into the pool of bad taste of which I am waist high and sinking fast.

Just a quick thought, not so much how bad "Dick Day" would be, rather how good, almost everyday could be.

"And all the Who's in Whoville...................."

Back without a Vengeance

2008-12-02T09:17:00.000-08:00

Well. I'm back. Yippee. Sorry I have been away so long. So much has happened since I last blogged. We have a new President Elect. It is now December. In terms of viewing the world from a "Whinny The Pooh" kind of perspective, I find myself feeling rather Eeyore. where as I like to think of myself as more Tigger. Honestly, I am probably just Pooh. An overweight bear "of little brain" with impulse control issues regarding honey. Yep. That sounds more like me.

Bummer. I think there is a book called the "Tao of Pooh". Probably a good read.

Peace

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T11:19:00.001-07:00

Aaaaaaaaaah yes, it is "All Hallows Eve". A night to celebrate those things that scare us the most. Goblins, Ghouls, Ghosts, children inhaling large quantities of sugar. I know, I know, it scares me to. Much more than the undead. Personally, give me the undead and keep the 7 year olds with a handful of snickers and skittles.

I digress. Earlier this week I watched a show about haunted houses and possessions (Not re-possessions, that's a whole nother SCAAAAARRRRY blog) and I go back to some classic Eddie Murphy material when Eddie notes that some people just don't leave. It was funny stuff. I wish I had the technology to post it. And like all things funny, it's largely true. The whole show, which was scary enough, honestly; but as it dragged on left me more annoyed at the people than scared. You find yourself just saying leave. And why does the priest always have to be Episcopal? I know we are an accepting faith but just once can't we throw in a baptist, maybe some potato salad and big haired healing experience? Back to the whole residency issue. Yes I know the economy is a nightmare unto its own, and housing is an issue; but I draw the line at demonic possession. Maybe I'm squeamish, or even egotistical, still I find if there is more than one of me in me (don't even go there)..... I'm leaving. No brainer. No debate. Leaving.

To continue. My neighbor (down the street) continues to have the coolest house ever. We're talking about cemetery stuff, Iron Fencing with poles bending to indicate the exit of the recently undead. He has a fog machine. A fogg machine. I so want to party with this guy. Its one thing to attach a ghost to a string, or as my daughter refers to large inflatable "globes of evil" which blow leaves in a circle with a little witch enclosed. My son following in-tow saying "Gwobes of Evwil" like a maniacally deranged Elmer Fudd. Then it is altogether another matter to really to have skeleton arms coming out of the ground. Personally its more fun watching the people watching his yard than the yard. Earlier this week I saw a guy driving by this house. Stop at the stop sign. Start and then do the "collective Scooby Doo" cartoon did I just see???? thing. Priceless.

Again, to contrast my neighbor, We have a traditional carved pumpkin and one bat which flies in a circle. Its fake.

Have a Happy Halloween.

No bats were harmed in the production of this blog.

Electorial Precipice

2008-10-29T06:14:00.000-07:00

So as we sit on the precipice of what stands to be the most important election of our lifetime. Of an election which stands to affect: our lives, our children's lives, our parents lives, our grand-children's lives, our neighbors gardener who knows a guy who walks with a limps life, and certainly not least to some guy who is or is not a plumber, is or is not running for congress, who works for a plumber, which allows him to plumb, and wants to own his own business eh.......

Its a big deal. First. I think anything is better than what we have. Right now I would vote for a box turtle if I thought it would improve things. Still our country, if you haven't noticed is connected to other countries, and it would nice if maybe some of them....... LIKED US. Maybe its just my issues of low self-esteem, still right now the only people that "dig us" (if even) break every day for tea with "the Queen" and refer to Elton John as "Sir" hmmmmmmm. Does Rush Limbaugh know this. I hate Rush Limbaugh. OK maybe hate is to ........ soft a word. But I digress.

Bottom Line. We have money tied up everywhere. The trail, I believe starts somewhere around that soul-less Harpy "DICK" Cheney. Every time they wheel this demon's carcass to a hospital because of Heart Problems it makes me laugh. If this guy has a heart then I have three ears. This cat strikes me as a Satanical version of The Wizard of Oz. He's Like some cross between the Scare-crow, the tin Man, and the Lion hopped up on Steroids. I'm not even going to address the witch piece. Where was I, oh yeah "Dick" and (Money Trail) ends up in Juan Valdez's Asses Ass. Taking a brief detour through parts of Mainland China, Europe, Central Asia, and Winnipeg.

My point, and I know I have people scratching there heads at this moment, is that we are all connected. Yes, in a Buddhist kind of way. But also in a real money greed, green means go dollars, rubles, franks, euros kind-a-way. So if maybe we vote in an administration that acknowledges the world is not only not flat, but that other countries matter, then maybe, just maybe we can start some dialogue. Dialogue. You know...........talking. Such that maybe we can fix some of the un-adulterated debacle that we find ourselves in.

Tomorrow, we'll discuss caffeine, and maybe put in some shelves. "Good Day Then"

Horoscopes for the socially infirmed

2008-10-22T20:11:00.000-07:00

Just had a minute to share:

Horoscopes 10-22-08

Aries- I know you feel good about this person but maybe your friends might be right. This would be a good time to lay low and heed wisdom from cooler heads.

Taurus- This Aries person really diggs you, but watch out for friends; they might have alternative agendas which could rain on your romantic parade

Gemini- Today is a good day to be outdoors. To cleanse your spirit in the fresh winds of Autumn. Today you can move on and get that healthy break from Aries you've been seeking

Cancer- Today is a good day to go with your precocious nature. Make that call. Send flowers. Just make sure Taurus doesn't find out. I think he has serious Stalker potential. Plus rumor has it he has a crush on Aries.

Leo- Ah poor dear sweet Leo. Today you feel trapped in the spotlight that only your ego can contain. Be leery of Gemini, because he is still pining for Aries (as if), and Taurus has moved in on Aries, before the body is even cold (talk about lonely hearts club). I say party with Cancer.

Virgo- Dear Virgo where do I start. Really? Aqua Velva? Really? On a first date. That crap smells bad enough to take a cat out of heat. Might want to reconsider dating advice from Taurus.

Libra- Oh Libra. Don't blame Pisces. You were warned. I know this was a blow to your ego. I imagine the stench of Aqua velva will linger for sometime. Still. It's nice to be asked. Isn't it.

Scorpio- OK Scorpio here's the plan. Call Libra. She's vulnerable. And lets face it, your no prize. She just polished off a nightmarish date with Virgo. If you hurry, there is serious rebound potential. Oh, and lose the Aqua Velva; why you guys listen to Taurus I'll never Know. You realize he's probably a stalker.

Sagittarius- Sagittarius, I don't care if it has a front entrance and a small kitchen; it is still your mothers basement. Come on now, lets pick-up our chin, look in the mirror, and say "Today is my day". Oh and I know you and Pisces have unlimited text. Still 52 messages in 17 minutes could be viewed as "clingy". Remember what happened to Taurus. How he got that blue tooth in there is still a mystery to me. But then why would anyone spray Aqua Velva on that body part? Dis-infectant is my best guess?

Aquarius- Aquarius, you may be the ultimate water sign, but right now it looks like its raining feces. Just stay inside. Don't bother. Really. I checked the stars. Its not pretty. Order in, watch depressing T.V. and be thankful you don't live with Sagittarius or date Taurus.

Pisces-Dear Pisces, I am so hoping that Aries, listens to you, if only this one time. Furthermore so as not to throw stones from your glass thrown room, why are you stringing Sagittarius along? 52 text messages? 52? You know that he hangs out with Taurus? Me thinks you can do better. Rumor has it Leo may be a lion but he is hung like bear.

House Part I of many

2008-10-21T21:48:00.000-07:00

I love the show House. It's a cool show. Fascinating really. People find such horrific, obnoxious qualities about this guy; who is essentially a prick to everyone on the show. Or is he?

Lets discuss. I think people, in watching this show, really identify, or want to identify with this character. He is somewhat verbose, even bellicose at times; but enough toying with my new thesaurus. He is genuinely interesting in saving patience lives. It is his primary goal. He makes no apologies for his behaviors, comments, or actions.

Me. I dig this. This notion of abrasive sensitivity if you will. intriguing.

I will peruse this exercise further, later, as it bears thought which expands beyond the reaches of the flickering 30 watt bulb that is my brain.

Sleep well World.

Free at last Free at last!!!!!!!!!!

2008-10-21T18:44:00.000-07:00

I have finally learned how to remove these ridiculous adds from my blog!!!! Praise the Lord!!!!!! I have had the inane advertisements which I idiotically put in place over a year ago and have not been able to remove. So every time I do a blog on something, someone tries to do some advertisement related to my topic. Its like a key word search. To whit, and I think anyone who does or has read this blog, can get the problem. My tendency to talk about saaaaaaaay anything leads to some weird adds. Awesome. I am free to type away..................

Christ versus Buddha

2008-10-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

How's that for an ice breaker? So I'm laying on my bed thinking to myself multiple thoughts. As I am prone to do. I think of the Salmon. You know the one who spends his life fighting the current swimming up stream, fighting torrents of water, and the occasional bear just to fertilize that egg. Fertilize that egg? Then he dies. Anti-climactic really. All that work swimming jumping de-bearing. Sex. Then death. No retirement plan. No beach. No Vegas all-u-can eat bar. Just death.

In my limited understanding of things I see the Buddhist mentality of life as one which goes with the flow. One which says "follow the current . Do with the water, as the water would with you"

It certainly sounds more azure. More relaxed.

In like kind Christianity says......... Well I think it says "turn the other cheek."
"Swim as you will. But swim in kindness, with love for other fish" "Oh and if you don't, you could well spend eternity as stir fry". Stir Fry? Hmmmmmmmmm.

So what does this mean to me. Not so sure, really. This much I do know; I am of the warrior spirit. Figure out what you want. Get it. Kill it. Cook it. Come hell, high tide, rain, sleet, Postal worker gone postal, what have you. I do know that I am perhaps my own worst enemy, and that I probably put up more road-blocks on myself than does the world.

I also suspect the world lives a similar life. I am sure many is the smart man/woman that has said "We are our own worst enemy". I don't know who I stole that from, but it ain't mine, and I ain't the first person to say it.

I know that when I am in goal, and when I play a "passive", go with the flow, relaxed type of game which lends itself more to baseball; then I play better. And when I play an angry Linebacker "hit it" "hit it again" type of play. I give up more goals. Its a subtle point, but there is a strong micro-cosm here. Because when I go with the flow, the flow goes with me. But when I stand strong against the tide, I end up broken and battered. On the ice and off.

Just some food for thought. Bon-appetite

No really. You better watch out.....

2008-10-10T23:21:00.000-07:00

So my little girl is at that age, when little girls start to question things. It's a magical time of wonder really. As things start to fill in place. Concepts, fairy tales, the Easter Bunny, what have you.

The other day she looked up at me smiling with the brightest cutest eyes and asked me, "Daddy is there really a Santa Clause"? What was I to do. So young. So innocent. Still growing ever day. Learning, take it all in like a sponge. Dare I clip those wings and arrest the growth god intended. Do I shelter my beloved with lies.

Oh shit yeah. So this is basically what I told her. " Absolutely, there is a Santa Clause, and in point of fact, he sent me a letter recently, saying that some boys and girls had been giving him some bad press, calling the big man a fraud.

I told her.
"Honey, Santa is special caring man; who loves all children" But let us consider, pumpkin, just for a moment, that
this is a man who Donn's a red suit, with flying reindeer, and parties with Elves, preferably called the more politically correct term, Midgets with ugly ears."

She looked at me as only a child could. Innocent and knowing. So I continued. Santa said that he is tired of this naughty list thing, and he wants names. He wants the names of the kids who are calling him and his operation. Dare I say his crew, a fraud. Further more C ( I call him C for Clause). Was very clear, that whence forth he got a hold of this widgets what been sullying his good name that they (miscreants) would be dealing with a lot more than a stocking full of coal. Like maybe a pillow case full of soap bars (painful, but not bruising).

I held my child nestled in my lap, and said, "Sweetie, this guy scares me, and I've seen him drink. So what say you and I write Santa a letter, telling him all the special things you want for Christmas, and maybe sharing with him the names of kids what been causing trouble."

In closing, I look forward to a peaceful Christmas, with the pitter patter of Deer hooves on my roof, and perhaps, if I'm lucky the clinking glass of Warm milk and Cookie crumbs.

Oh, and incidentally. Billy Thompson if your out there. Sucks to be you dude. Sucks.

2008-10-09T07:17:00.000-07:00

Good morning. I hope this blog finds you well wherever you may be. I think I will write with a positive tone this morning. I hope you are:
smiling, laughing, feeling life to its fullest. I hope you remember:
good days, sunsets, cold beverages on hot days, and hot beverages on cold days with loved ones.
I hope you feel:
resurgent, vibrant, opportunistic, as everyday brings us new opportunities.
So take the time to:

Live Laugh Love and Taste life to its fullest. Suck out every drop, get the deepest marrow from the bone. and feel. feel life to its hilt.

peace,

jon

Chocolate Kisses and Vampire Dreams...........

2008-10-07T20:29:00.000-07:00

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah yes boys and girls its October!!!!!!!!! Time for Halloween. The coolest Holiday of all. A celebration of Chocolate and Costumes. What could be more fun. I mean really. You get to dress up as your favorite .........whatever. And go out and eat lots of your favorites. Hell if your lucky. Maybe both? Oh oh . I know dress up as your favorite chocolates and eat each other TRIFECTA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I digress, for not only does the Chocolatier industry brain wash us with promises of rapid energy bursts, but they silently undermined other food groups as well. Carving Pumpkins? Think about it? What's the real message here? That's right. Its ok to kill vegetables kiddies, come with me into the forest of sugar and hone..........

Anybody else getting creeped out by the scary guy blogging in the clown suit? Just me? Ok.

So sleep well oh majestic Wicca, wherever you may be. For the night holds you close with Chocolate Kisses and Vampire Dreams.

late late show

2008-10-06T23:38:00.000-07:00

Its 2:38 in the morning, and I am enjoying the perks of my career. While I sit and wait for people to return calls about matters essentially out of my control, I have time to ponder things. To appreciate. Even ruminate perhaps.

Presently I would have to say I'm not so disappointed in myself for not having learned more about the stock market. Ignorance in this case is bliss.

I do appreciate the finer things. Laughter, for instance. I have found myself laughing more of late, and I have found that to be a good thing. As laughter is both healthy and necessary. But enough about Palin.

To that end, or beginning I would re-address laughter. When you are surrounded by those who make you happy and joyous; all-be-it friends, loved ones, and children then good things happen.

Pretty much too tired to elaborate. More better later.

peace,
j

Five minutes.........

2008-10-06T06:36:00.000-07:00

Five minutes to comment on the state of affairs. Stocks bad. Haircut, bad. Palin, "SCARY CLOWN". Fall beautiful. Daughter very beautiful. McCain "misguided patriot"

Ice cream is still good, and continues to become more fattening with every day my metabolism slows. I think I'm going to pack a suitcase and fly to Wall street pitching a stress management seminar. Think it'll sell? Probably faster than......... Well plummeting stock.

John Stewart. Smart. Sleep. Still vastly under-rated. Peanut Butter remains high on my list of priorities.

Not really focused this a.m. just wanted to share.

Have a nice day. Love on another. Go and play happy.

Drop Kick Jesus through the Goal Post of Life

2008-10-05T19:16:00.000-07:00

and so life continues on. it spills and chills, bumps and bruises, ebbs and flows. I still try to laugh at the horrid shit, and smile at the beautiful moments as they cascade by me.

I think the commercial says "Life comes at you fast.......... something or other insurance." Here's a thought...... NO SHIT. Talk about an understatement. If your paying attention. If you have the balls to open your eyes on the roller coaster that is life, you find that yes, its goin pretty DUCKIN fast.

Your kids shoot up like weeds in summertime, anybody, I mean anybody with a brain has to be somewhat disconcerted about the state of affairs in our country. We sit upon the virtual eve of what stands to be one of the most important elections in our brief history as a nation. A nation of lemmings. And by lemmings I mean small rodents who follow each other in what-ever perilous direction the Alpha Lemming chooses. So between the Fox network and local preachers a lot of very important decisions will be made. Does this scare me. YA THINK?????

Don't get me wrong I make most of my decisions, at least important ones at the behest of someone I find to be more knowledgeable about whatever topic I'm not (knowledgeable). However, that lists rarely includes anyone on Television (minus comedy central, the only real place to get your news), and most certainly not from anyone in a pulpit with an outdated tie and seven expired cans of hairspray forming some kind of "Bee Hive-Mullet for Jesus" hair cut.

Now I imagine these remarks probably leave me unpopular in many sectors. I imagine. But let me tell you what I know. I'm right. I've been there, done that, and watched lemmings hypnotically stare into the idiot boxes of entertainment basing the decisions of little Tommy's College fund in the hands of the hopelessly lost.

good night children.

sleep tight, and don't let Bill O'Riley, bite (anywhere. what a freak).

First Day of School

2008-08-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

So as it happens to so many of us. Our little tad-pols grow legs and hop away. My little girl had her first day of school today. I was not present for the blessed event but my wife says it went off without incident. I suppose it was good that she escorted my daughter in that I tend to take the, "Finding Nemo" Approach to parenting.

And no, I'm saying I wish my daughter's mother was eaten by a Barracuda (although we have our moments), rather I'm implying that I am the more conservative parent, which tends to fear the worst. I'm sure of course that this has nothing to do with my employment in the mental health field.

But I digress, and I know it sounds cliche but they do grow so very fast. One minute your cradling them in your arms, the next there bounding off to school. You find yourself standing in place holding a baby blanket wondering were the time has gone? I'm selfish this way. I don't want to share my little girl with anyone. I wish she could stay home another year. "Whats the rush I say?"

"She's ready." My wife calmly replies. She's half right. My daughter is ready. I'm not.

I love you so my little Nemo. Go swim, play, and have fun. Remember to watch for sharks, as you ride the current with your fellow turtles finding your way.

Your loving Marlon

Vacation

2008-08-10T19:44:00.000-07:00

Vacation is a complicated term. It can mean many different things. It is oft referred to as time to relax, reflect, and re-energize in a respite of some capacity allowing a reprieve from said career activities. These "Vacations" often involve trips to exotic locations such as the beach, a lake house, some might go to Vegas, or even Europe. Often times people just want a change of venue, if you will, a sort of "Anywhere but here" scenario.

Now, having said this, I am going to add one small word. A one syllable six letter word. FAMILY. There I said it. Family. Lets insert the word Family just in front of Vacation; and see what we find.

Family Vacation, an opportunity for one to reflect and appreciate the mundane consistencies of Career Work. A chance to reflect, and re frame one's views on whats really important, and really annoying. An opportunity to re-address ones short-term memory as per, "I could swear I promised myself I would never do this %^$**in trip again.

And let me say this, for those of you with children, if I never, NEVER, SEE ANOTHER freakin WEBKIN as long as I FREAKIN LIVE it will be too FREAKIN SOON.

If you don't know, Webkins are these freakin teddy bear stuffed animals that come with software. A kind of simulated life, shop, exercise, shampoo, your poodle, giraffe, whatever, thing. My dad views them as educational. I on the other hand, view anything that creates conflict between my daughter and my niece as a strain. Cousin's they love each other dearly except when it comes to......... I don't know EVERYTHING. So trying to make piece in a condominium on the 16th floor with 4 kids, 2 grandparents, 3 parents (the smart one stayed home *ucker) has its complexities, throw a lap-top plugged into miniature pincher into the mix is at best idiocy. I know that it is the grandparents duty to spoil the children; but at what point does spoiling spill over to torturing the adults.

Recipe for disaster: take two sets of kids with staggered ages ranging 3-8 add one kind of several different toys, such that sharing would be difficult for a group of well fed Buddhists, then take them out at only the best times. Bed-time. Nap-time. FREAKIN DAY OR NIGHT TIME.

Doth I sound a tad bit edgy. Perhaps. You'll have to forgive me, I lost my "Koala Webkin" at the beach, and I just can't sleep without it...........

A Pirate looks at 38

2008-07-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

And so we come to this solemn solemn day. This day signifying summers magnificent heat as it rounds the third turn into August and onward toward September. Yes July 31 is upon us again, and I stand upon the cusp of 38 years old. Old. Not young. Old.

I stole the term a Pirate looks at........ From Jimmy Buffet and started doing these pieces some time years back. I have taken a few years off, as I have come to view my birthday with more ominous, and less omni.

As I sit and write this diatribe, I would like to think that I am writing as a humbler, wiser, person. Probably not true. Probably more aware and afraid. So I sit and I write. My back is sore, and I had sense enough not to play hockey tonight. I suspect one year prior, I would have dragged any part of my living carcass out on the ice. Funny how a mortgage payment and children change one's priorities. The term "shake it off, is compelling different".

I find as I think back, that I have less to say. Its really all about my family now. Their quality is my quality. Their joy is mine etc so on so forth.

So I will sleep tonight, and wake up a year older tomorrow. But the coolest part again... is that I know that I will be awakened by the pitter patter of my children's feet. For that I am truly rich.

who ever you are or wherever you may be, I would hope the god that you know or choose to affirm blesses you and keeps you safe this night.

Bulldogs Hockey

2008-07-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

Hey folks,

I have a new blog I am toying with. It is http://bulldogshockeyland.blogspot.com/. It is a spoof/reality look at adult hockey in the triangle area. Some other teams have websites, that might take themselves a little too seriously, which as always makes things entertaining. So check it out if you get a chance. Good stuff.

j

Mommies got crabs........

2008-06-25T08:04:00.000-07:00

Some things you just don't want to hear. "Mommies got Crabs". Not high on my list. I suppose I should back up. The wife, kids, and grandparents are at the beach this weekend, and as it turns out the Mrs. touched a crab. Not such a big deal.

Now here's the thing. I love talking to my kids. Every chance I get. Furthermore, I fear the day when they don't or won't be bothered by my tiresome self. However, I would prefer some brief warning. Like "Hi honey. how are you? the kids want to say hi........." Instead the phone rings and I get.
"Hi daddy. Crabs run sideways. Mom touched one, but I didn't get to (my youngest is in the back screaming "I wanna talk to daddy")."
" Daddy, are sharks mammals?, Mommy met a lifegaurd today. I said they were kissing. she said he rescued her from drowning. In the bedroom." "Those life guards sure now how to breathe. Mommy was sooooooo red. She said not to tell grandpa."

My youngest gets on the phone. "Daddy... Daddy look at my see shells." I love the age when you can see stuff over the phone. Actually the technology exists, I just can't afford or. understand it. "Ok, love you, can you put mommy on the phone?"

"She getting crabs with Uncle Lifeguard"

just fly

2008-06-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

Its hard to watch people who care suffer. Its like watching people repeatedly throwing life preservers to individuals who don't even know they are drowning. Change. is it so hard? People hate change. Loathe it. Like predictability is so great. If you know a trains coming, why would you choose not to get off the damn tracks??? Its a freakin train.

I honestly think humans are almost as programmable as damn computers. Some days I feel like I'm a computer repairman, with no training or tools. The only difference is..... A computer doesn't have a choice. If a computer has a problem you go in and fix it. People choose.

I'm not knocking free-will. Its a good thing. Its just heart-breaking to watch people do self-destructive things because they devalue themselves so much. Its tragic.

Hug your children tonight. Tell them you love them, Value them. That they are special, and that they can do ANYTHING. Children need boundaries, but not for potential. Dare your children to spread their wings and fly as far the sky will allow, and love them as they learn. Love them when they fail. Love them when they succeed. Most importantly. Only love them on the weekdays that end in Y.

A word of remembrance

2008-06-23T11:40:00.000-07:00

I think something should be said to the loss of two men I view as great and visionary. Tim Russert of NBC, and George Carlin. Both men where giants in their field. Both men greatly affected the world around them, making this world arguably better.

Russert from my limited understanding was a man who personified integrity. A man who represents journalistic ideals at a time when journalistic integrity is void to the extent that it could arguably be viewed as oxymoronic in nature.

Perhaps to further this irony, I think the man who would comment best on this would perhaps be George Carlin. A man who made no apologies for who he was or what he believed in. Not so much a choir boy, still a guy who was to my understanding honest and open in his commentaries about the world.

One man made us laugh, while the other reminded us of a time when news meant something, and trust had validity.

I had a chance to briefly peruse the political cartoons mourning the loss of Tim, and the cartoons seemed again to speak to integrity and class.

Such interesting contrast between these two great men. One man shouted and shook his fist at a system he disagreed with; whilst the other stood firm with pen and paper meticulously addressing a maelstrom of political issues.

In closing, I like to imagine the two together playing chess. It is safe image for me to digest, and I take solace in the idea that they are in a better place. However, often times they say tragedies happen in three's and I cannot bear the thought or timing of losing another great such as the likes of Tim Russert and George Carlin.

mayberry hell

2008-06-18T05:47:00.000-07:00

I work in mayberry hell. really. This place has all the warm acutriments of Mayberry, plus the hearthful warming qualities that, Hell has to offer. We have a town drunk. Who stays drunk. Marries the towns crazy lady, in between hospital stays.

We have local small town politicians with hair pieces that make your wonder if a bald poodle is somewhere shivering in a corner trying to keep warm. You have the local beauty shops with the little blue hairs who go in to get their blue hair quaffed in the style that is usually referred to as;" she looks so nice" when passing the casket.

We have a depraved miniature inner city fully equipped with all the crack, drugs, and whores, you could ever dream of. I suspect a lot of small towns have evolved this way. Small gas stations and mom and pop stores, no different than 50 years ago, minus the gang tags spray painted on the walls.

Its all here. And I suspect everywhere. You just gotta now where to look. I think you can find goodness and evil on every street corner. You just gotta now where to shop.

ventilation

2008-06-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah time to take a moment to speak. to let the dogs run as it where. if i had dogs. if i was a dog. i would be a lazy cat fearing tired dog. I like dogs. personality. cats. not so much. cats are all meow and hair. dogs are interested parties. dogs are present. ready to share. wanna play. oh yeah. Cats. "i don't know maybe" "you got any good cat-nip on that ball?"

Actually one of our cats (we have 2) is kind of a hunter. which is cool. The other one. well the other one is more of a rug. which is also cool. He likes play. he likes to paw at you and stuff. He just doesn't want to get up to do it.

Cats like laser pointers. they will chase those. of course use extreme caution as per eyes and such.

dogs will chase most things although it is funny when you throw a Frisbee, and the dog looks at you as if to say, " and your point is ?"

pets are interesting. You have your exotic pet people. your reptile owners. Your iguana types. God forbid spider owners. Spiders? "and your point is?" Personally my take on spiders runs along this line. If I need a laxative, I'll go to the pharmacy, not the pet store. I'm sure both products are equal in causing me to crap myself, I just prefer less legs and hair in the equation. So to speak.

So we look for the positive

2008-06-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

In a job which is so often so bleak, we struggle as workers to stay upbeat and positive. In a place where happiness falls like crumbs to the ground. I find myself looking for meaning. Meaning which I see. In children's eyes. But here's the thing. If you can be kind. Kind. to other people. listen. to other people. then you have something. if you can help someone. great. if you can't. explain why. If you aren't the door opening for someone else, take a moment to show them another doorway. We live our lives having doors closed in our faces. It gets old. We get tired. I see these people daily. Tired people with sore toes, from having too many doors closed.

Validate. not parking. truth. validate what is going on. if its bad acknowledge its bad. bad doesn't mean unfixable. Bad just means bad. If your life sucks. So be it. at least you have a starting place. Sucks ain't great, but at-least its directional. Love more. Forgive even more. What is that saying,...... but to forgive is divine. I think it is divine within more than outwardly. Forgiveness is self-healing. Forgiveness leads to acceptance. or verse-vice. If we can truly forgive then we grow. as people. as spirits.

I'm not saying this to be cheesy. I'm not saying, don't laugh at the guy with the mullet, and the lawyers briefcase; but maybe don't point and giggle. Because somewhere he has a mom. with a mullet, and a members only jacket. and she loves her son as best she can.

God has given us a world that is a fun house mirror. So we can shrink away from it. or giggle. What's it gonna be? I hope I can laugh. Crying once in a while might be cool too.

Shout out to my sister. I love ya babe. Your awesome. Spread your wings and fly. Dare to be the great person you truly are inside. Your courage inspires me.

j

2008-06-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

i wish i could find the girl i spoke to after he died. i remember being in my room, watching a movie. I think it was Roger Rabbit. someone was banging on my door. A friend was crying saying something about, "I thought it was you". We went to the window and looked down. The EMT's were doing there best. I remember the sound of some kind of generator. The broken bricks, and the EMT's working frantically. Dizziness.

in the hallway his friend sat crumpled on the floor, crying. broken possibly moreso than our friend. she kept saying "its my fault" I just held her, while she cried. broken.

I remember waking up our hallmates and telling them what happened. It was stange saying the words "Alan's Dead". The shock of it all sweeping around all of us.

We all sat in meeting room. Someone told us some speech about how this would make us all closer, and that we would have a lot to endure. I guess i listened. Then some other guy. i guess the expert came in and i don't remember anything he said. he had that counselor beard. thick scraggily. the beard that says, "i'm a shrink, i can shrink you".

The sun came up and i tried to close my eyes. all i could see was alan, laying there, and those poor EMT's.

Alan's funeral was the prettiest day, i can recall. it was fall but smelled of spring. the air was crisp and the sky was blue. i remember an older woman sitting next to me crying. and crying. I think i touched her hand. i can't say for sure. i would like to think i reached out.

i don't think alan was churchy, so the preacher had to give the "I talked to Alan's friends....."

i tried to sleep after the funeral. still saw alan. bummer.

i had talked to alan the day before he jumped. we were watching perry mason. for whatever reason. You know how college kids watch stupid crap between classes or when the should be studying.

alan was punching the wall that night he was mad about something. i think his friends were talking to him or arguing with him. i remember going out in the hall at some point and confronting him about banging on the walls. or confronting his friends. i can't or don't want to remember. he, or they apologized. it was cool. no big deal. i guess this is the part where i ask myself what if i said or did something else. what if i asked what was wrong instead of saying knock it off, or whatever i said.

later in the fall i saw her. the girl. the broken girl. i didn't say anything. i didn't know what to say. what do you say. we made eye contact. that was it. i wish i could see her again. talk to her. i don't know what i would say. want to say.

sometime later, i was driving with a friend and we saw another friend. we picked her up and were driving back to the dorm. she said something about having a wierd night. She said she watching a movie with some friends. Roger Rabbit. Somehow it was hilarious to me and my friend. just tragically ironic, i think. we didn't explain it to her. How she thought her experience watching Roger Rabbit was strange. i hate that rabbit. alan, who of course isn't named alan, was a good kid. bright and funny. somewhere it got lost in an instant. and so it is.

if'n i was to rant

2008-05-29T09:51:00.000-07:00

this is just a free write. a chance to stretch out my fingers. nothing to rant about. too tired to rant. if i was to rant, i suppose i would be upset about gas prices. i think its interesting that this press secretary guy from the bush administration came out with a book saying everything anybody with remotely any sense new. then all of these commentators come out in shock and dismay. questioning this guy and attacking his character. duh. he was the presidential secretary, which i estimate to be the colonial equivalent to the guy holding jeffersons piss jar. why now? the pundits ask? i don't know. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. lets see could it be ......... GREED???? ya think? still i look briefly at this stuff and think.. duh.
it is a disappointment to be a part of one of the more stupid times in history. i could be wrong but i'm really reading history as indicating we were stupid. honestly believing anything this administration has to say, is just about equivalent to believing in professional wrestling.

peace

the priveledge

2008-04-28T12:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting with a blind man. Interesting statement. I know. However, this blind man, also did not speak English. I on the other hand only spoke a rudimentary modicum of his language.

So while visiting some friends, kids playing I found myself in an awkward position of speaking with this older gentlemen. In truth, I was intrigued. I learned that he was an art-teacher, and had only been blind recently (I'm guessing three years). Still, in my visit I came away impressed at the wisdom of this man. His kindness, and patience. I got no taste of frustration or bitterness. This was a man who was retired, robbed of his sight by a botched surgery, and essentially forced to love with his son in a country which language he didn't speak.

Still the man was courteous, happy, patient. The man had a kind energy about him and even a good sense of humor.

So I lamented not having shoes, until I saw a man with no feet.

So continues

2008-04-07T09:53:00.000-07:00

So continues my whining rant at life. Gas prices are up. Politicians continue to act like politicians. The smart remain smart, yet I fear the ignorant remain ignorant. So much of life is perspective. It is so easy to feel sorry for yourself. Yet easier still, if you perchance to glance you can quickly find someone worse off than you.

I'm not saying If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I'm simply saying, for the most part, we are free creatures with the power to choose. often times, I suspect more than not, the bounds in our life which leave feeling burdened and chained down, are self imposed learned behaviors.

Let us not forget our friend the elephant, who is chained in place as a child, but merely restrained by a string as an adult. Learned.

Just a thought or two.

blurp

2008-03-19T12:29:00.000-07:00

I wish someone would write the idiots guide to idiots. Cause I'm curious. How they operate. Manually? Is there a switch somewhere? Who knows to replace their batteries? And why do they bother? It would be so nice to say, "shhhhhhhhhhh just stay quiet he's about drained".

Why are homogeneous groups of individuals so proud of their individuality? "We stand together Apart and Unique".

The children are our future..........

2008-03-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

Every once in awhile the oncelor returns to his desk and types. If only for a minute. Or five. Life is still life on planet earth. Children are still the coolest things. My ego is still my downfall. I still don't like snakes.

Few things in life matter more than my children. It is so important to raise our children well. To give them a foundation. To help them grow strong and have the opportunities at happiness and quality. To know joy.

Nothing else matters much.

I may be dumb. but at-least I'm slow

2008-02-19T09:36:00.000-08:00

So I'll take a few minutes to share. To clear my head as it were. As if it were possible. I'm not seeing it. I love the title of this blog. It just seems to fit my life in its wierd puzzle piece fitting sort of way.

My existence on this planet has definately been interesting. I have definately seen some schnit. I have heard some things that would definately alter some folks reality. I have learned to laugh. I have learned to see humor. Everywhere. Everywhere. Which if you can't see the humor, then you can't deal with the pain. And if you can't deal with the pain, then your just lost anyway. In a world were so many people walk around in pain, humor gets it. Humor scratches that itch. If only for an instant. It takes you away.

Humor is my blues. Granted my harmonica may be broken, and my sunglasses may be store bought from a gas station, but so be it. If I can't be cool, at least I can be me. Which I suppose ain't cool. There are days when I definately feel depressed. Depressed. Days when I feel like the cowboy that been gutshot in the western. He knows its bad, but he's scared to look. He knows he's wounded, he just doesn't now how bad.

A friend of mine sent me a e-mail one-time talking about how self-pitying, self-serving I was. The friend pointed out my wounds one by one identifying them with salt. He indicated, almost prophetically that I was pretty messed up.

So here I am three years later. Blessed. Lucky. Cursed. Dumb enough to feel sorry for myself, but smart enough to know that the world is full of real suffering.

I survive on the smiles of my family, and a passion for sports. I cling to that. At times I feel that is all I have. However, if that is all I have.... then I am truly a rich man.

My Bloated Amphibious Valentine.........

2008-02-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

I think valentines day is generally regarded as an annoying chocolate covered opportunity for men to purchase lingerie for women. Which actually, now that I think about it sounds pretty cool. In-fact I would even venture to say peanut-butter away from a trifecta.

But times change, and last night after a long day at work as I muddled through the masses of others dumb enough to shop at the last minute like myself, at large department stores; I found myself thinking this isn't quite the romance I was shooting for. After purchasing 2 large helium balloons and a potted rose bush, thing; Which to my defense I have been extremely busy. Also the wife was very tired after a full afternoon of being with the kids, which at least gave me some justification for hurrying with minimal guilt.

Finally, I return home with a have large inflated frog (don't ask), and a barely inflated (really I don't want to talk about it), one time "heart looking" balloon. I find myself standing in the doorway holding a bloated amphibian on a string and dragging a big red piece of, well, plastic, and small pot with some rose blooms (I think).

Then like walking into another world, I am greeted by my 2 gleeful minions and my spouse. I am suddenly enveloped in this huge wave of positive energy. This warm blanket of happiness and love. AWESOME. The balloon. HUGE. COOL. The kids played and played with the frog; and dragged the plastic around with essentially equal glee. The smiles. Magical. Healing. Priceless.

Its like one minute I'm doing that job I do. I've probably cursed more times than the upper section of Yankees-Red Sox game. I've told jokes that Andrew Dice Clay would have removed from his act for embarrassment. All of which is done basically to survive.

But then. Then I hit that door, and its different. I don't know if my blinders pop off, or my rose colored glasses pop on; I just know I'm in a better place. And I find myself wishing that time could stand still. Forever. Forever.

Life however, like time doesn't stand still. It simply keeps on going. Reminding me daily that its rich fullness lies in the details, and if I will, but for an instant; shut up, and pay attention. Then its true beauty, which has always been present, will reveal itself. Always. If I could give anyone any advice at all. I would say "hush". "Listen". Listen for the beauty.

I was talking to a good friend the other day on the phone, when my son came over to me and basically, in three year old e's; told me to put down the phone and spend time with him. "Hush"

The Pulse

2008-02-13T06:02:00.000-08:00

Country music. Whether you like it, or not; has captured the pulse of life. Country understands people. It acknowledges weaknesses, short comings, dreams, and angst. Its cool that way. Like a comedian you love, because when he speaks about the pain of life, you say, "I've been there." Then you LAUGH of all things. Country acknowledges mans foibles. People listen, and survive. They survive. They get through that long day. That job they hate. That relationship that their trapped in. In fact, Country music gets them out of that life their trapped in. Its says I've been there. Done that, and I have the beer stands to prove it.

Rock is mythology. Rock is angst. Rock shouts and shakes its fist at the world, while the angry masses shake their fists with it, and say, "yeah thats right we're here and we're pissed". Rock talks more about what we want it to be, and less like what it is. Rock is immature. Rock is at times a tantrum. Rock to me is less grounded in reality. Which escape can be good. To each his own.

Country, says this is where we are. Sometimes it says, I wish I was somewhere else, but it still looks at escape from inside the walls of whatever factory, hourly wage prison folks are trapped in. Folks. Not people. Country is folks. Pop is people. Rock is people with multiple piercings and bad hair cuts. Country music is the dog that you love. Your pal. Who is always there, and doesn't pee on things. Rock to me is an annoying yap dog. A little dog that won't shut up and tries to hump your smaller couch pillows.

Now I say this as a tweener. I was raised mostly in the North, by folks from the South. Which basically says, "I'm relatively obnoxious, even annoying; but I can still make grits and out Bass fish you on any day, with any fishin pole and 2 plastic worms.

j

Guest Blog "Cart Rage"

2008-02-12T19:24:00.000-08:00

The following is a rant from one of my oldest and dearest and most pregnantest friends. Enjoy.

I am the Wife and the Mommy, and somewhere along the way a part of these titles also translated into "primary grocery shopper for the family." In fact, my husband will tell you that one of the reasons that he got married was to never, ever, have to set foot into a grocery store again. Fortunately for our relationship, I hate to perform any kind of car maintenance (from oil changes to putting on the winter tires) beyond updating my bumper sticker(s), and he's quite fastidious about it. Anyways. I do the grocery shopping.

As "just" the wife, I had the luxury of using a relatively small cart to zip through the aisles and to whirl circles about slower shoppers or those who were stuck, mid-aisle, while they compared prices. Now as the Mommy, I have two children who diligently (that is: "have no choice") accompany me on the weekly outing, and I've gone from the two-tiered zippy cart to the ultra two-seated cart with the "car" attachment on the front (which seats a total of 4 kids).

First of all, have you ever tried to steer one of those things? They're as long as a Cadillac and have a strange center of gravity that makes it kindof impossible to take sharp corners or to stay in your "lane" when cruising an aisle.

Secondly, with a very active 3-year old sitting in the car attachment, it is not wise to stay in my "lane" in every aisle unless I'd like him to collect food items from the bottom shelves as we're going through the store (usually, I try to get him to sit on the left-side of the car, and I say a small "thanks!" to whomever designed the car with belts to clip my kid in).

Lastly, trying to empty the cart onto the checkout belt by reaching over the car and into the cart all the while jammed between gum and the latest tabloid splattered with Britney Spears just makes my back hurt. But my main gripe with grocery shopping is this: who in the heck has put all of the cardboard "displays" in the aisles? Are you kidding me? They're always staggered down the aisle on alternating sides and they're usually in front of something that I am reaching for, so I end up trying to move the "display" which is usually flimsy and in danger of falling apart at the slightest touch.

They also jam up the flow of shoppers in the aisle, even if I'm shopping early in the day and practically no one else is there. How many times is someone parked with their cart across the aisle from one of these senseless displays of food seasoning (or whatever), causing both "lanes" of cart traffic to stop?

Or that I encounter another Mommy with the uber-cart coming the other way and we end up in a stand-off until one of us takes the open lane to get by? Pushing that behemoth of a kiddy-cart around, there is no way that I can squeeze between another shopper and a display, so I have to sit there and wait for traffic to clear up, while my kid is taking things from the bottom shelves, until someone moves along. The best situation is when someone positions one of these extra aisle-advertisements at the end of an aisle so when I am blindly maneuvering my cart into that aisle, I run into it. I just LOVE that.

Honestly, I don't understand road-rage but am thinking that I'm going to be acting out some kind of cart-rage the next time that I encounter a crowded aisle of displays or run one over by accident taking a blind turn. I can't wait to be banned from my regular shopping store for bad manners when all I'm asking for is for the stuff to be put on the shelves where it belongs!!

(sigh)

five good minutes.......

2008-02-12T11:43:00.000-08:00

I am taking five good minutes to do some writing. Five good minutes. This is good to relax. Bad if your making love. I'm sure there is a medication for preventing five not good minutes of love making. I know there are medications which indicate that 4 hours of what I will call the "potential" to please your partner. Its interesting to me, because they always say if you suffer from the "potential" for more than 4 hours, you should go to an emergency room. Ok. What about who-ever you are pleasing. If they have been a part of this "broadcast" for 4 hours they might need some medical attention too.

Just a thought. Aaaaaaah Valentines Day is once again upon us. Interesting day. Valentines day. It makes me think a short chubby winged voyeristic guy with of all things arrows with potential to make you have "Potential" for pleasure lasting anywhere from "five good minutes" to "Four hours resulting in trauma".

Peace, and happy Valentines

j

Drink Life

2008-01-23T13:13:00.000-08:00

A toast to life

To smiles, laughter, tears, and joy. To bittersweet memories of victories, defeats, embarrassments, and accomplishments. To the game. The process. The essence. To the smells, sounds, and sights. To Shakespeare's eloquence, and Springer's ignorance. To humanity for all its veinglorioussness. To our hypocrisy's, idiosyncrasy's, and our novelty. To Ben Franklin, for inventing pretty much everything. To fear. Fear of Failure. Fear of success. Fear of opportunity, growth, and yes even the dark.

I would toast pride, for without it, mans foibles would be dull. Whoever said Pride Goethe before the fall. NAILED IT. To the Greeks who's epic pieces mocking and celebrating Pride. To humility, for its quiet calming presence. To silence, sweat, silence when it intrudes on our traffic inundated lives only to remind us that crickets still exist.

Finally, to peanut butter, chocolate, chocolate and peanut butter. To star filled skies and my children's eyes. To the opportunity for better days. Let us be grateful and aware of our blessings, and conscious of those less fortunate such that they too might see better days.

Oh and to Jack who turns three today.

Lost and Found

2008-01-22T12:52:00.000-08:00

I have often suspected that anyone who understands the meaning of life probably implodes, pops, explodes, or just disappears. Maybe a brief Gestalt, an "A ha" of sorts; then poof, bang, nothing. Not so much a cosmic image. Still I wonder. How many songs? Books? Movies? Poems? Address the meaning of life.

One of the best books (one of the only books) I have ever read is called, "Man's Search for Meaning". Why? We wonder. What came before us? And before what came before us?.......

"Then came the Dinosaurs. They all died and we bought Mercedes Benz's"
a loose quote from the Movie "Airplane"

Bang. I like that. There was a big bang. Here we are. A large explosion, and we commenced to being. Being what? Well stuff of course? What stuff? You now "Bang Stuff" "Matter".
"OOoooh Matter".

Or there's a tale about a strange man in a large boat. Of which whom even though they were told specifically not to take candy from strangers or get into large watercraft with strange bearded men; 2 by 2 they boarded.

Hmmmmm. I'm still confused. But we need to understand. We just gotta know. Or maybe its just me. Maybe everyone is going, "It is what it is". Which I do here often. I do believe it was God or Yahweh who said, "I am." Which is a little brief, but I suppose if your the lord, who's gonna get ya for sentence fragment.

Which I love about religion. It finds people. Or people find it. I was........in a gutter.... with a pigeon............covered completely in......... having lost everythi........I didn't even know she liked trucke....rs......and I found religion. Or religion found me. Usually, these are the scenarios as I have observed them:
- It was late
- I was lost
- I was in some way shape or form under the influence of something
- I was minding my own business in a tent when a small man with REALLY big HAIR
struck me in the forehead

The following results. Now I'm all better. I get it.
"what"?

"You now. It. the meaning".

"what meaning?"

"THE MEANING"

"Ooooh well if you are going to put it in all CAPS" "Well then it must be so"

Which brings us to faith. I like faith. Faith primarily says. BECAUSE. Faith is like an answer on credit. Its like a "Get out of Jail Free card (Monopoly)" for tough questions. And if you get Really annoyed with someone, then you can............ QUESTION their faith. People have been drowned, stoned, burned, and even kicked out of the Republican party for having their faith questioned.

Having said a lot about very little using linear, circular, and even no logic at all; I will leave you with this.

Beats the shit out of me. Daily.

microcosm on ice

2008-01-20T19:35:00.000-08:00

So today we go skating. As a family. My wife, myself, and our 2 children. We're skating at a rink that has 2 separate rinks for skating; of which often times there are several activities going on. Today we had the usual public skate on the one side; and a junior hockey game on the other.

Ice skating is always interesting. You have many different types. Families, such as mine with little ones skittering about, sliding and falling. You have teenagers skating more fast than they are agile. Or more clumsy than they should go fast (talk about a multi-applicable reference to teenagers). Me, I'm trying to get my youngest to focus enough to get his skates on. He's almost three, and he is thrilled to be in the presence of any and all, and especially multiple stimuli.

My oldest at five, is equally excited and grows exponentially independent as the hours turn into days. Of course my lovely wife, who seems to live on FM radio, while I amble about on AM, tries to keep me focused on keeping the kids focused.

We make it to the ice. My youngest basically wobbles like that newborn moose or deer or whatever animal that happens to be newborn on the nature channel, and learns to walk within an hour, and is outrunning lions by dinnertime (lions).

So we skittle and wobble, and I hold my youngest while he feels his way around the ice. My oldest, takes off. More heart than technique. Determined, fearless, and social, she ambles about with the basic skills of skating, sans stopping (hope that makes the next lesson).

Teenagers. 4-5 scraggly looking shaggy kids, all arms and legs, going too fast in and out off various families, and figure skaters. The father in me thinks. Even slightly. Even close. And somebody is going down hard. Hard. Then I remember.........

A gangly kid, who was way cooler, way faster, than these teenagers. I remember a kid who could fly. Who could actually jump small children and trip senior citizens without even braking a sweat. Even impressing the European judges as he skated rapidly long hair flowing in the wind, while Duran Duran blared out of speakers and disco balls spun. Yes this kid was special. He made braces look cool, and pimples seem sexy. How soon we forget. I wonder how many dad's were inches from taking me down hard?

So intermission comes, and I step next door to watch a little hockey. Holy-shit. I'm there for like twenty seconds, and I see like four absolutely brutal, illegal hits. Parents standing around cheering stupidly, like parents do at any sporting event. Only in this one kids, on both teams are getting smashed. The referee, who I would find out later, is new, and for on the ice for his first time. I also find out that this is the highest league for like 15-16 year olds. Regardless. I saw four Roughing Penalties and six Slashing Penalties (names are self explanatory) in moments.

Parents are all jacked up, and screaming. Its bedlam. The referees, who I remarked to a friend of mine who coaches kids around this level, would eventually lose COMPLETE control of the game. I don't care what sport you referee, which I would never do. The second you lose control. You have a problem. I'm just glad no-one got hurt. Later I would hear parents in the lobby saying, "you should have decked him"...... etc. I want to vomit.

Later as I skate quietly behind my daughter who is too independent at this point to skate with me, as she determinedly works her way around the rink, little arms pumping, little helmet on her head. I feel such joy. Such pride. Just to watch my daughter happy. Independent. Happy. She is magic. I watch as she slides to ice. I Skate over and pick her up. I have both of her hands in mine. I skate backwards while she holds on. Slowly as I watch her smile. Then Faaaaaaaaassssst. I take off, and she laughs as I pull her around the ice she is wobbling and careening and laughing until finally she loses her balance and I catch her. She smiles. The prettiest, happiest, no front teeth smile ever. She is my joy. Meanwhile the offspring that only an hour ago was akin to a newborn on Animal Planet is indeed standing, and with the aid of a small crane, myself, my wife, or myself and my wife, gets around is doing remarkable for an almost three year old.

For a moment I am content. Truly happy. Then I remember, and this doesn't temper my mood, rather it strikes me ironic; as I realize that next door, kids are flying around whacking each other with sticks, while parents cheer, of all things, and referees stand lost with whistles.

It is a microcosm of our world, and frightens me to pull the Microscope back and analogously change the players of this vignette from ice to life. From play to war. From calm sky's and austere settings to smoke filled rooms resulting from inept impotent leadership.

So I will remember the beautiful smile and work towards better days.

quotes

2008-01-18T08:09:00.000-08:00

here's a quote I read from igoogle

I know who I am. No one else knows who I am. If I was a giraffe, and someone said I was a snake, I'd think, no, actually I'm a giraffe. - Richard Gere

1. What was he smoking?
2. Was he smoking it with the Dali Lama?
3. Does the Dali Lama now he smokes this schnit?
4. If Richard Gere was a giraffe in snake suit, and fell in the forest, and no-one appeared at the preview of his latest movie; then what time would the second train arrive in Chicago?

But I digress. I'm all about Buddhism. Truly cool, peaceful, stuff. But I don't get it. Periodically I pick something up to read about it, and I just get totally lost. I think I'm just not smart enough to get it. Its like, "If the wind is blowing then why do the fish swim? the boy asked" "Because of the wind chimes tell us about the rocks". OK, I'm sure someone gets this somewhere. Me, not so much.

Now...........HERE'S A QUOTE FOR YA.

The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment. - Dorothy Nevill

Now that is cool proverbial powerful wisdom there. I say this because I am all about the tempting moment. I have a gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment, but well. What a beautiful articulate way to address leaving that alone which is best unsaid. Me, I'm all, "Hey look the Emperor is Naked" amidst the hush's and horrors. If there is a 500 pound Gorilla sitting quietly in the mist of a living room somewhere, I am Dianne Fossey. I am synonymous with blush, and have started many a tale with, " So then John says..........."

Have a good weekend.

It is the stolen quiet moments with our children that answer so many questions and quench the thirst that is our existence.
"Me"