Here are some conversations of note from the holiday. Between working extra hours and visiting family there is little time to blog.
My Wife's family has a tradition of playing a stock-market card game called "Pit" during camping trips and holidays. My brother-in-law, Phil, and I had the lowest scores in the game. At one time, Phil was down to -160 points but then won a hand to bring him up to -105. My score was -100.
Phil: "I think you are going to win the title of Biggest Loser, Emmett. I'm still losing but I think you will overtake me."
Me: "Only a true loser would be excited that they are not going to be the Biggest Loser in the game. I'm going to set the bar really high and shoot for getting zero points this hand." (I failed at that)
Phil: "I'm losing but overall you are way more of a losery loser than I am..."
Emilee (Phil's wife): "Phil! You are being so rude. Do you even hear what you are saying? You are being SO rude."
Phil: "I'm being rude? Didn't you hear what he said to me a minute ago? He said that he only loses gradually but that I COME ON STRONG AS A LOSER..."
Eleanor (my wife): "Are you worried that Phil will offend Emmett? Don't worry about it. Emmett can take it."
By this point I was laughing so hard I lost track of the conversation. I AM the Biggest Loser.
Here are some sweet tidbits from my daughter:
#1
Eleanor: "Are you ready to go, Olivia?"
Olivia: "I'm getting ready. I have to hurry. I'm pretending I'm late for work."
#2
Eleanor (to my brother Joel): "Did Olivia just tell you that you have girl-hair?"
Joel: "Yeah."
Eleanor: "Don't worry about her. She told you that you have girl-hair because you have a ponytail, she told her cousin Aaron that he has girl-hair because he is blond and she tells Emmett that he has Dora-the-Explorer-hair."
Joel (to Olivia): "We are ALL boys, Olivia."
olivia: "Yeah. Boys with girly hair."
Ethan has already decided that he wants to be a bat for Halloween next year. It turns out that his grandmother has an old bat costume that one of Ethan's uncles used for Halloween years and years ago. Now when we visit grandma, Ethan likes to hang out in the bat costume. After wearing the costume for a few hours, Ethan got a pen and paper and scribbled out this message:
"I'm not a frade. I got my (he drew a picture of a CAPE) and my (he drew a picture of vampire TEETH). I got v.nokalrs (BINOCULARS) looking for Jracula."
We are going to keep that paper until we die.
The other night I had to work with the brain-damaged guy again. At 4 am he turned to me and said:
"I wish I was working with you the other night when I fell asleep and crashed my truck. I feel awake tonight. Talking to you is better than listening to the radio."
Another landmark compliment in my life:
Talking to me is BETTER than listening to the radio.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Status Quo Things Utah and Sketch Comedy
I used to get about 4 hours of sleep each night during the work week. I would wake up and give the kids some food and then I would sort of pass out on the living room floor for awhile with the TV going. I would usually start to regain consciousness around the time that a local daytime talk show was on. The show is called “Good Things Utah.”
The show is hosted by a few local TV reporters who sit around gabbing about things they read in magazines and such. I meant to blog about this show a long time ago but I didn’t have the heart. I was going to be very mean but after some time I have gained a little sympathy (maybe it’s because I get more sleep now).
Don’t get me wrong, the show is still not good by any means. They follow a weekly format where they waste vast amounts of time talking about scrap-booking, homeless pets, gardening and clipping coupons. They also do “health-tips” where they showcase new cosmetic surgery procedures that are available in Utah. It’s quite a service. They spend ten minutes of the show cooking fatty foods and stuffing their faces and about 30 seconds a day talking about news articles on diets that look hopeful. They do makeovers where the final result looks the same as the before picture.
Watching the show leads a person to believe that every woman under the age of 30 is a quiet, humble seminary student. While the show is running, you forget that women can do things like ride a bike or fly a plane. You forget that women know what politicians are and what they do. You forget that there is any woman past the age of puberty who has not started a brood of infants and toddlers.
Over the past year or so, I keep bumping into the blond “host” around town. I saw her at the Gateway Mall. She does this thing where she makes eye-contact with you, like you are going to recognize her and tell her what a great show she has. After she walked past, my wife said, “That was that lady from that show.”
I said, “I thought it was but I wasn’t positive. If I was certain it was her I would have yelled, ‘FIX YOUR SHOW!!’” And then one day we were eating dinner at Chick Fillet. I needed a refill on my drink but before I could get to the counter this blond lady and her family kind of rushed up so they could order before me. I had to stand there and wait while they ordered their food. During that time, I got the feeling that it was the host again, except she was in grungy workout pants, her husband looked too young for the lady on the show and her child didn’t have any socks or shoes on, on this cold and rainy day. I thought, it’s like the trailer park version of that TV lady. Despite the fact that she did that eye contact thing again, I thought it was all my imagination. When we were leaving the restaurant, my wife said, “Hey, there is that lady again.”
I told her that I was suspicious but I offered up the info about the grungy clothes and the shoeless child; Not very Showbiz. But my wife insisted that it was the host and I my wife is right 99.9% of the time about these things. The lady in the restaurant seemed like a completely different person than the host on TV and that is when my sympathy grew.
I’m thinking that if the format of the show was up to the hosts, it would not be quite so bad. But this is Utah and I’m sure the show has producers that want to pander to what they believe is Utah’s status quo. Basically, the show is instructional to Utah women to become scrapbook queens; To stay home, be churchy, be middle class mothers. To dream big but never leave your couch except to shop for groceries and weed the garden. To be just like everyone else in their church ward.
I saw comedian George Lopez on the show once. He finally couldn’t contain it and busted out a “mormon polygamy” joke. It was met with deathly silence and uncomfortable smiles. A cricket tried to chirp but Heavenly Father quickly sent down a seagull to eat the troublesome insect before it could acknowledge Lopez’s comment.
One night when I was loading trucks at work, I thought it would be cool if Salt Lake City had their own sketch comedy show like Seattle does in “Almost Live.” I’ll tell you some of the skit ideas I had:
Of course, Status Quo Things Utah (picture the hosts with permanent smiles):
Host 1: “… And that concludes our demonstration on Getting Your Tile Its Whitest for the educational portion of our program.”
Host 2: “Those were such wonderful tips.”
Host 1: “Yes. This magazine is full of all sorts of wonderful things. They even have Family Circle comics inside.”
Host 3: “Ooh. We used to let the children read Family Circus comics while they ate their breakfast mush but it got them bouncing off the walls. You know those days when you have to double the children’s dose of Ritalin before you send them to school?”
Host 2: “At our house, we call those WEEKDAYS. Let’s take some calls from our viewers. Go ahead caller.”
Caller 1: “Hi, I love your show. But I can’t say I cared for all that poppycock with George Lopez.”
Host 2: “Alright, we will certainly get a focus group together to talk about how to improve that aspect of the show. Go ahead next caller.”
Caller 2: “Hi. I really didn’t care for the last caller’s use of the word, poppy-you-know-what.”
Host 2: “We don’t screen our viewer’s comments before they air but we apologize and we will make it better. Go ahead next caller.”
Caller 3: “Why are these callers so mean? Why can’t we all act like a decent society?”
Host 2: “We know exactly what you mean and our viewers are the best ever. You make us so happy. Tune in tomorrow for our fashion updates… or just look outside at what your neighbors are wearing. If all you can see is hands and faces then run with it.”
Super Dell
The Totally Awesome, Gun-packing, Excited-About-A-Root-Canal, Computer Whiz is a joke in himself so I didn’t bother to expand on the idea.
Minute Men
A lot of people in Utah want to protect our society from the evils of illegal immigrants. Utah is no stranger to Minute Men watchdog groups bent on deporting all illegal immigrants. I figure this would be a recurring sketch that starts of simple and eventually leads to the rebuilding of the Ku Klux Klan. It’s our right, nay, our DUTY as Americans.
Jumpin’ Jesus (pronounced with a Spanish ‘j’)
This is a take off of the local Fox channel’s “Big Buddha” morning personality. He’s excited about everything. Look at him wiggle with excitement as he rides and escalator. By the end of the episode, Jumpin’ Jesus is wrangled into a net by the Minute Men to be deported to Mexico despite his pleas, “I’m CUBAN!”
I also thought of another skit about a married couple who has a prenuptial agreement guaranteeing the husband “regular nookie.”
Wife: “Oh no. What is SHE doing here?” (pointing at husband’s lawyer)
Husband: “I didn’t want to say anything… but as it appears you are settling in for the night, I hate to point out paragraph 7 of our prenup guaranteeing me certain rights.”
Wife: “Grrrrrrr.”
Husband: “Honey, I gave up my right to that ‘Jake the Snake’ tattoo I wanted for this. If you break the contract then that tattoo is fair game.”
Wife: “I can’t believe this is even legal.”
Husband: “You were the one who wanted to get married in Tijuana.”
Wife, flopping down: “Fine! Let’s just get it over with.”
Husband: “Ah, ah, ah. Paragraph 9 clearly states “nookie with ZEST. ZEST! Otherwise it doesn’t count.”
Wife: “Okay, okay.”
Husband (to lawyer): “Would you care to stay and witness the transaction?”
Lawyer: “Need I remind you about my ‘Don’t creep out the lawyer’ stipulation?”
Husband (Opens the door to a closet to reveal a hidden stenographer): “I would like to have that last comment stricken from the record please.”
Anyway. I wasn’t serious about the sketch comedy. Those were just the basic ideas of it as I came up with them at a boring day of work.
The show is hosted by a few local TV reporters who sit around gabbing about things they read in magazines and such. I meant to blog about this show a long time ago but I didn’t have the heart. I was going to be very mean but after some time I have gained a little sympathy (maybe it’s because I get more sleep now).
Don’t get me wrong, the show is still not good by any means. They follow a weekly format where they waste vast amounts of time talking about scrap-booking, homeless pets, gardening and clipping coupons. They also do “health-tips” where they showcase new cosmetic surgery procedures that are available in Utah. It’s quite a service. They spend ten minutes of the show cooking fatty foods and stuffing their faces and about 30 seconds a day talking about news articles on diets that look hopeful. They do makeovers where the final result looks the same as the before picture.
Watching the show leads a person to believe that every woman under the age of 30 is a quiet, humble seminary student. While the show is running, you forget that women can do things like ride a bike or fly a plane. You forget that women know what politicians are and what they do. You forget that there is any woman past the age of puberty who has not started a brood of infants and toddlers.
Over the past year or so, I keep bumping into the blond “host” around town. I saw her at the Gateway Mall. She does this thing where she makes eye-contact with you, like you are going to recognize her and tell her what a great show she has. After she walked past, my wife said, “That was that lady from that show.”
I said, “I thought it was but I wasn’t positive. If I was certain it was her I would have yelled, ‘FIX YOUR SHOW!!’” And then one day we were eating dinner at Chick Fillet. I needed a refill on my drink but before I could get to the counter this blond lady and her family kind of rushed up so they could order before me. I had to stand there and wait while they ordered their food. During that time, I got the feeling that it was the host again, except she was in grungy workout pants, her husband looked too young for the lady on the show and her child didn’t have any socks or shoes on, on this cold and rainy day. I thought, it’s like the trailer park version of that TV lady. Despite the fact that she did that eye contact thing again, I thought it was all my imagination. When we were leaving the restaurant, my wife said, “Hey, there is that lady again.”
I told her that I was suspicious but I offered up the info about the grungy clothes and the shoeless child; Not very Showbiz. But my wife insisted that it was the host and I my wife is right 99.9% of the time about these things. The lady in the restaurant seemed like a completely different person than the host on TV and that is when my sympathy grew.
I’m thinking that if the format of the show was up to the hosts, it would not be quite so bad. But this is Utah and I’m sure the show has producers that want to pander to what they believe is Utah’s status quo. Basically, the show is instructional to Utah women to become scrapbook queens; To stay home, be churchy, be middle class mothers. To dream big but never leave your couch except to shop for groceries and weed the garden. To be just like everyone else in their church ward.
I saw comedian George Lopez on the show once. He finally couldn’t contain it and busted out a “mormon polygamy” joke. It was met with deathly silence and uncomfortable smiles. A cricket tried to chirp but Heavenly Father quickly sent down a seagull to eat the troublesome insect before it could acknowledge Lopez’s comment.
One night when I was loading trucks at work, I thought it would be cool if Salt Lake City had their own sketch comedy show like Seattle does in “Almost Live.” I’ll tell you some of the skit ideas I had:
Of course, Status Quo Things Utah (picture the hosts with permanent smiles):
Host 1: “… And that concludes our demonstration on Getting Your Tile Its Whitest for the educational portion of our program.”
Host 2: “Those were such wonderful tips.”
Host 1: “Yes. This magazine is full of all sorts of wonderful things. They even have Family Circle comics inside.”
Host 3: “Ooh. We used to let the children read Family Circus comics while they ate their breakfast mush but it got them bouncing off the walls. You know those days when you have to double the children’s dose of Ritalin before you send them to school?”
Host 2: “At our house, we call those WEEKDAYS. Let’s take some calls from our viewers. Go ahead caller.”
Caller 1: “Hi, I love your show. But I can’t say I cared for all that poppycock with George Lopez.”
Host 2: “Alright, we will certainly get a focus group together to talk about how to improve that aspect of the show. Go ahead next caller.”
Caller 2: “Hi. I really didn’t care for the last caller’s use of the word, poppy-you-know-what.”
Host 2: “We don’t screen our viewer’s comments before they air but we apologize and we will make it better. Go ahead next caller.”
Caller 3: “Why are these callers so mean? Why can’t we all act like a decent society?”
Host 2: “We know exactly what you mean and our viewers are the best ever. You make us so happy. Tune in tomorrow for our fashion updates… or just look outside at what your neighbors are wearing. If all you can see is hands and faces then run with it.”
Super Dell
The Totally Awesome, Gun-packing, Excited-About-A-Root-Canal, Computer Whiz is a joke in himself so I didn’t bother to expand on the idea.
Minute Men
A lot of people in Utah want to protect our society from the evils of illegal immigrants. Utah is no stranger to Minute Men watchdog groups bent on deporting all illegal immigrants. I figure this would be a recurring sketch that starts of simple and eventually leads to the rebuilding of the Ku Klux Klan. It’s our right, nay, our DUTY as Americans.
Jumpin’ Jesus (pronounced with a Spanish ‘j’)
This is a take off of the local Fox channel’s “Big Buddha” morning personality. He’s excited about everything. Look at him wiggle with excitement as he rides and escalator. By the end of the episode, Jumpin’ Jesus is wrangled into a net by the Minute Men to be deported to Mexico despite his pleas, “I’m CUBAN!”
I also thought of another skit about a married couple who has a prenuptial agreement guaranteeing the husband “regular nookie.”
Wife: “Oh no. What is SHE doing here?” (pointing at husband’s lawyer)
Husband: “I didn’t want to say anything… but as it appears you are settling in for the night, I hate to point out paragraph 7 of our prenup guaranteeing me certain rights.”
Wife: “Grrrrrrr.”
Husband: “Honey, I gave up my right to that ‘Jake the Snake’ tattoo I wanted for this. If you break the contract then that tattoo is fair game.”
Wife: “I can’t believe this is even legal.”
Husband: “You were the one who wanted to get married in Tijuana.”
Wife, flopping down: “Fine! Let’s just get it over with.”
Husband: “Ah, ah, ah. Paragraph 9 clearly states “nookie with ZEST. ZEST! Otherwise it doesn’t count.”
Wife: “Okay, okay.”
Husband (to lawyer): “Would you care to stay and witness the transaction?”
Lawyer: “Need I remind you about my ‘Don’t creep out the lawyer’ stipulation?”
Husband (Opens the door to a closet to reveal a hidden stenographer): “I would like to have that last comment stricken from the record please.”
Anyway. I wasn’t serious about the sketch comedy. Those were just the basic ideas of it as I came up with them at a boring day of work.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Alternative Spanish Speaking
It would be nice if I could speak spanish. I took a little in high school but most of what I remember were the phrases my friends and I used to goof around during class. I still like the way we spoke it better:
El Guapo - I believe it means "Handsome." Here is how we used it: Raise your hand like you are going to backhand someone and tell your target, "I will el guapo you!"
Aqui, Alli, Alla - When you are El Guapo-ing someone you can yell out, "Aqui, Alli, Alla!" I believe the direct translations for these words are , "right here, right there, over there." So the English version would ALSO be cool to yell out while you are delivering someone a three punch combination.
Arriba Vos - The direct translation is "Up yours" but apparently this is not a derogatory phrase in the Spanish language. It rolls off the tongue nicely and can easily be yelled while driving, so I think the Spanish speaking people of our world should give it a chance.
Buenos Nachos - Good nachos.
Yo tengo que bañara mi abuela - I have to go wash my grandma.
Despite the wide acclaim that Chi Chi Rodriguez has garnered in the world of golf, my teacher told me I shouldn't call people "chi chi." I guess it means "tits." So we used words like Sabado, Sabes Que and Donkey Hotay as nicknames instead.
As an aside: There is a guy at work named Rick. He is friendly and smiles a lot but he has such a thick Spanish accent that you can barely understand him. I little while ago I was working with a mexican temp worker and he started talking to Rick in Spanish. When the conversation ended, the temp worker turned to me and said, "Ugh... his Spanish is no good."
So on paper Rick is bilingual but in real life he's barely lingual at all in any langauge. I think it's funny but soy un perdedor.
As another aside: I found out after graduating High School that my American Government teacher was having an affair with my Spanish teacher for years. Then my American Government teacher died of a drug overdose. I guess the joy of teaching made him feel like a rock star.
El Guapo - I believe it means "Handsome." Here is how we used it: Raise your hand like you are going to backhand someone and tell your target, "I will el guapo you!"
Aqui, Alli, Alla - When you are El Guapo-ing someone you can yell out, "Aqui, Alli, Alla!" I believe the direct translations for these words are , "right here, right there, over there." So the English version would ALSO be cool to yell out while you are delivering someone a three punch combination.
Arriba Vos - The direct translation is "Up yours" but apparently this is not a derogatory phrase in the Spanish language. It rolls off the tongue nicely and can easily be yelled while driving, so I think the Spanish speaking people of our world should give it a chance.
Buenos Nachos - Good nachos.
Yo tengo que bañara mi abuela - I have to go wash my grandma.
Despite the wide acclaim that Chi Chi Rodriguez has garnered in the world of golf, my teacher told me I shouldn't call people "chi chi." I guess it means "tits." So we used words like Sabado, Sabes Que and Donkey Hotay as nicknames instead.
As an aside: There is a guy at work named Rick. He is friendly and smiles a lot but he has such a thick Spanish accent that you can barely understand him. I little while ago I was working with a mexican temp worker and he started talking to Rick in Spanish. When the conversation ended, the temp worker turned to me and said, "Ugh... his Spanish is no good."
So on paper Rick is bilingual but in real life he's barely lingual at all in any langauge. I think it's funny but soy un perdedor.
As another aside: I found out after graduating High School that my American Government teacher was having an affair with my Spanish teacher for years. Then my American Government teacher died of a drug overdose. I guess the joy of teaching made him feel like a rock star.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Hooked On A Feeling
A couple of months ago I checked out some "Knight Rider" DVDs from the library. I remember thinking Knight Rider was one of the coolest shows in the world when I was a little kid. I wish I could have understood how hilarious the show was back then.
It is a strange notion that when Knight Rider made its debut people were of the attitude "That Weird Al guy is a freak but look a David Hasselhoff... he's a super stud."
I only watched had about six episodes but they were good ones that had me laughing and laughing. One episode was "The RETURN of Goliath." One of those episodes where the EVIL goat'eed David Hasselhoff breaks out of prison and comes to destroy the hero. The evil David Hasselhoff's girlfriend is only with him because she can't have the good David Hasselhoff.
I wish I could give a review of each episode but that would take too long. But another favorite on the disc was one where Michael Knight's love interest, "Stevie," from a previous episode has finished her stint in the witness protection program and has become a shining rock star. When her guitarist is murdered, it is up to Michael Knight join her on stage, singing and strumming his heart out to find the murderer.
I thought watching the DVDs would be good for an afternoon of laughs but now I keep having the urge to watch more and more.
Here is some required David Hasselhoff viewing for those who have never seen it:
It is a strange notion that when Knight Rider made its debut people were of the attitude "That Weird Al guy is a freak but look a David Hasselhoff... he's a super stud."
I only watched had about six episodes but they were good ones that had me laughing and laughing. One episode was "The RETURN of Goliath." One of those episodes where the EVIL goat'eed David Hasselhoff breaks out of prison and comes to destroy the hero. The evil David Hasselhoff's girlfriend is only with him because she can't have the good David Hasselhoff.
I wish I could give a review of each episode but that would take too long. But another favorite on the disc was one where Michael Knight's love interest, "Stevie," from a previous episode has finished her stint in the witness protection program and has become a shining rock star. When her guitarist is murdered, it is up to Michael Knight join her on stage, singing and strumming his heart out to find the murderer.
I thought watching the DVDs would be good for an afternoon of laughs but now I keep having the urge to watch more and more.
Here is some required David Hasselhoff viewing for those who have never seen it:
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
A Little Hipster Dufus with a Guitar in a Coffin
It seems with every passing day life is more about what I have to do and less about what I would like to do. I think Chad feels the same way, because he called me today and told me to bring my acoustic guitar to work so we could finally JAM during our breaks.
I was hesitant for a moment because I could imagine the mofos reaction. Plus I haven't really played in about 4 months. But whether you play the guitar or not, imagine taking a guitar with you to work and that is pretty much how I felt. It's kind of like being that weird kid in high school who starts wearing a trench coat because he needs a personality and too many people are already that-kid-with-the-earring.
When we did show up for work they saw our guitars and people yelled at us to play them some music. One person said, "What the f*** is this? Woodstock?" It was my boss.
I was a little worried when Chad called me, though. He said, "We should bring our guitars tonight. Actually, let me check the strings on my guitar while I'm thinking about it..."
I dreaded that he was one of those hardnose musicians who changes his strings every couple of weeks who would lecture me about how I'm not taking good enough care of my guitar. The kind of guy who spends 90% of his time tuning the guitar instead of playing.
But then Chad said, "Yep, there's six of them. We're good." And it made me feel better. We must love music because there isn't a single girl around at work to impress by saying we are musicians.
As is common in my life, nothing works as it is supposed to. The handle on my guitar case is broken so I had to carry it around the warehouse like a rifle under my arm. It made me feel like a lame character in one of those "Once upon a time in Mexico" movies.
I was hesitant for a moment because I could imagine the mofos reaction. Plus I haven't really played in about 4 months. But whether you play the guitar or not, imagine taking a guitar with you to work and that is pretty much how I felt. It's kind of like being that weird kid in high school who starts wearing a trench coat because he needs a personality and too many people are already that-kid-with-the-earring.
When we did show up for work they saw our guitars and people yelled at us to play them some music. One person said, "What the f*** is this? Woodstock?" It was my boss.
I was a little worried when Chad called me, though. He said, "We should bring our guitars tonight. Actually, let me check the strings on my guitar while I'm thinking about it..."
I dreaded that he was one of those hardnose musicians who changes his strings every couple of weeks who would lecture me about how I'm not taking good enough care of my guitar. The kind of guy who spends 90% of his time tuning the guitar instead of playing.
But then Chad said, "Yep, there's six of them. We're good." And it made me feel better. We must love music because there isn't a single girl around at work to impress by saying we are musicians.
As is common in my life, nothing works as it is supposed to. The handle on my guitar case is broken so I had to carry it around the warehouse like a rifle under my arm. It made me feel like a lame character in one of those "Once upon a time in Mexico" movies.
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Power of Wrinkles
I knew a girl who had an art degree. She worked at the deskjob with me and she didn't know what kind of career to pursue with that glorious piece of paper. I told her she should go to companies like Walmart and Kmart and take better pictures of their sweaters.
I've noticed that when a higher-end company makes a catalog or a website, they layout the clothes with "stylish" wrinkles. Like this sweatshirt from J. Crew:
Doesn't it look ALIVE already? Like you would be doing it a disservice by stuffing your boring, misshapen torso into its fine fabric?
And now look at a similar sweatshirt from Target:
Doesn't it look like the merchants went out and found some gnome or druid with a metal rod for a spine and no elbows and blasted him with a liquid nitrogen canon, later to dip the victim in some kind of special chemical solution that dissolves gnomes and druids while leaving the sweatshirt and its shape intact? And then took a picture of that sweatshirt and put it in the catalog?
I think so, too. But you must also be careful with this concept. It takes a professional to create these stylish wrinkles. I once heard someone say, "This is the 90's, nobody irons anymore."
I've tried to adopt that philosophy, making adjustments to whatever year it is, but it is really just an excuse as to why I never iron, myself. My wife usually let's me get away with it but occassionally she vetos my outfit, saying, "You are not leaving the house in those wrinkly pants. At least, not with me."
I've noticed that when a higher-end company makes a catalog or a website, they layout the clothes with "stylish" wrinkles. Like this sweatshirt from J. Crew:
Doesn't it look ALIVE already? Like you would be doing it a disservice by stuffing your boring, misshapen torso into its fine fabric?
And now look at a similar sweatshirt from Target:
Doesn't it look like the merchants went out and found some gnome or druid with a metal rod for a spine and no elbows and blasted him with a liquid nitrogen canon, later to dip the victim in some kind of special chemical solution that dissolves gnomes and druids while leaving the sweatshirt and its shape intact? And then took a picture of that sweatshirt and put it in the catalog?
I think so, too. But you must also be careful with this concept. It takes a professional to create these stylish wrinkles. I once heard someone say, "This is the 90's, nobody irons anymore."
I've tried to adopt that philosophy, making adjustments to whatever year it is, but it is really just an excuse as to why I never iron, myself. My wife usually let's me get away with it but occassionally she vetos my outfit, saying, "You are not leaving the house in those wrinkly pants. At least, not with me."
It's All Relative to the Size of Your Steeple
Here is where I see Justice in the world:
Millions of americans grow up through the years and some of them find themselves very attractive. They want to bank on the notion that they are exceptionally attractive, so they pack up their suitcases and move to southern California and take on jobs ranging from restaurant servers to dancing in a chicken suit. They want to make it big in Hollywood. They sleep on floors and scrape by, hoping for a breakout audition that will land them a television pilot.
But who gets these pilots? The beautiful people? No. People like Jerry Seinfeld, Tim Allen, Ray Ramano, Roseanne, Ellen Degeneres and that Grace-Under-Fire lady. Faces to launch a thousand ships? Not at all. But they are people who can hold your interest just by talking.
Youth and Beauty can only be used as currency until someone younger and better-looking comes along. And if you don't have anything to say, you may as well be a snapshot on a wall of has-beens.
One time I worked with this lady. She was 5-foot-nothin' and about 60 years old. She had big bleached blond hair and big boobs. She kind of looked like Dolly Parton if you hacked her legs off at the knees, pulled all the stitches out from behind her ears and removed all of her plastic parts.
I forget the conversation we were having but she ended up saying something like, "... life is easier for people like you and me."
I asked, "You and me? What do you mean?"
As if I was touched in the head, she said, "People who are blessed to be good looking."
Before that moment I had no idea that she thought of us that way. All I can say is, if I am as ATTRACTIVE as my life has been EASY then I must be the most DOG-FACED boy who ever lived.
Millions of americans grow up through the years and some of them find themselves very attractive. They want to bank on the notion that they are exceptionally attractive, so they pack up their suitcases and move to southern California and take on jobs ranging from restaurant servers to dancing in a chicken suit. They want to make it big in Hollywood. They sleep on floors and scrape by, hoping for a breakout audition that will land them a television pilot.
But who gets these pilots? The beautiful people? No. People like Jerry Seinfeld, Tim Allen, Ray Ramano, Roseanne, Ellen Degeneres and that Grace-Under-Fire lady. Faces to launch a thousand ships? Not at all. But they are people who can hold your interest just by talking.
Youth and Beauty can only be used as currency until someone younger and better-looking comes along. And if you don't have anything to say, you may as well be a snapshot on a wall of has-beens.
One time I worked with this lady. She was 5-foot-nothin' and about 60 years old. She had big bleached blond hair and big boobs. She kind of looked like Dolly Parton if you hacked her legs off at the knees, pulled all the stitches out from behind her ears and removed all of her plastic parts.
I forget the conversation we were having but she ended up saying something like, "... life is easier for people like you and me."
I asked, "You and me? What do you mean?"
As if I was touched in the head, she said, "People who are blessed to be good looking."
Before that moment I had no idea that she thought of us that way. All I can say is, if I am as ATTRACTIVE as my life has been EASY then I must be the most DOG-FACED boy who ever lived.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
What Am I Missing?
Most of the guys I work with are single or are at least the-equivalent-of-single (ie. guys with kids they don't take care of, separated guys, guys that spend more time at the strip club than at home).
Every time I hear them talk it is a constant reminder that I am not missing anything by being married. I already mentioned how Seth and Robbie spend all of their money on cars and their ultimate goal is to drive around in aimlessly in a pack of dudes with fast cars.
The other day, I was working with Chad. We were in the middle of a conversation about Bela Fleck and the Flecktones when this nerdy guy pulls up and starts going into great detail about how he just got "Mortal Kombat: Armageddon" and how he spent a lot of time "creating" characters from "Street Fighter." He is one of those guys that has been pretending to talk like a black guy for so long that he starts to believe he is a black guy: "I went in and got the karate suit and the red bandana for Ryu and got the camo clothes and flat top for Guile. It's awesome. You really need to come check it out. No seriously. Like this weekend. For real."
Chad kept saying he would and tried to get the guy to go away. I think he was embarrassed to be associated with the video game nerd. But I like Mortal Kombat. I just can't spend my weekends rotting in front of the TV playing games.
Once, I was privy to a conversation with that guy that looks like my friend Gordon. The captain of the football team dude. All the bosses look up to him like he must have the absolute best life and I'm sure they sit around dreaming they were him.
Anyhow, the conversation went something like this:
Captain Stud: "You should have been at that party on Friday. Someone brought a case of Michelob."
Mofo#1: "Ah man. Why do they always do that at the parties I miss? We're there any hot girls there?"
Captain Stud: "Yeah. I made out with one... Well... it's that same girl I make out with at all the parties I go to... she's married."
Make out with a married girl? I can do that at home. Maybe it's just the guys that I'm around, but nothing seems to make me feel like I'm missing out by not being at the party, or not being in the car club, or not mastering Mortal Kombat.
There is this one guy at work. Everyone told me he is retarded. He is not allowed to drive the lifts or run the guns or anything like that. He always has to work with someone. The mofos are jealous of him because they don't keep stats on him and they never pester him about working faster. The mofos say that he cannot be fired from the job.
Yesterday, I worked with him. He isn't retarded. Come to find out, he's just had some brain damage. He crashed his car and was in a coma for three weeks. When he woke up, he couldn't remember his own name. It took him a year to be able to walk again. He doesn't seem stupid or slow. He just doesn't always register everything you say to him or he forgets a few things really quickly. He's kind of like Dory on Finding Nemo.
He comes from a very devout mormon family. He talked all night, ALL NIGHT, about girls. He could not stop talking about girls. About what he wants and how he can't find it and how he isn't perfect himself. He is 30 years old. He looks like a california surfer. He told me he doesn't want to date heavy girls but all the girls his age get heavy. It's something all girls do, he says. He still likes the skinny high school girls but he has trouble relating to them, considering he is 30 with partial brain damage. He tries to avoid telling girls his age because they automatically think he is creepy and that something must be wrong with him if he is that old and still single.
I felt bad for the guy. His mother takes it upon herself to drive Christ's message into his head at every opportunity: Single people pollute society.
Those are the words she uses and, oh, how he wants to make his mother happy.
Every time I hear them talk it is a constant reminder that I am not missing anything by being married. I already mentioned how Seth and Robbie spend all of their money on cars and their ultimate goal is to drive around in aimlessly in a pack of dudes with fast cars.
The other day, I was working with Chad. We were in the middle of a conversation about Bela Fleck and the Flecktones when this nerdy guy pulls up and starts going into great detail about how he just got "Mortal Kombat: Armageddon" and how he spent a lot of time "creating" characters from "Street Fighter." He is one of those guys that has been pretending to talk like a black guy for so long that he starts to believe he is a black guy: "I went in and got the karate suit and the red bandana for Ryu and got the camo clothes and flat top for Guile. It's awesome. You really need to come check it out. No seriously. Like this weekend. For real."
Chad kept saying he would and tried to get the guy to go away. I think he was embarrassed to be associated with the video game nerd. But I like Mortal Kombat. I just can't spend my weekends rotting in front of the TV playing games.
Once, I was privy to a conversation with that guy that looks like my friend Gordon. The captain of the football team dude. All the bosses look up to him like he must have the absolute best life and I'm sure they sit around dreaming they were him.
Anyhow, the conversation went something like this:
Captain Stud: "You should have been at that party on Friday. Someone brought a case of Michelob."
Mofo#1: "Ah man. Why do they always do that at the parties I miss? We're there any hot girls there?"
Captain Stud: "Yeah. I made out with one... Well... it's that same girl I make out with at all the parties I go to... she's married."
Make out with a married girl? I can do that at home. Maybe it's just the guys that I'm around, but nothing seems to make me feel like I'm missing out by not being at the party, or not being in the car club, or not mastering Mortal Kombat.
There is this one guy at work. Everyone told me he is retarded. He is not allowed to drive the lifts or run the guns or anything like that. He always has to work with someone. The mofos are jealous of him because they don't keep stats on him and they never pester him about working faster. The mofos say that he cannot be fired from the job.
Yesterday, I worked with him. He isn't retarded. Come to find out, he's just had some brain damage. He crashed his car and was in a coma for three weeks. When he woke up, he couldn't remember his own name. It took him a year to be able to walk again. He doesn't seem stupid or slow. He just doesn't always register everything you say to him or he forgets a few things really quickly. He's kind of like Dory on Finding Nemo.
He comes from a very devout mormon family. He talked all night, ALL NIGHT, about girls. He could not stop talking about girls. About what he wants and how he can't find it and how he isn't perfect himself. He is 30 years old. He looks like a california surfer. He told me he doesn't want to date heavy girls but all the girls his age get heavy. It's something all girls do, he says. He still likes the skinny high school girls but he has trouble relating to them, considering he is 30 with partial brain damage. He tries to avoid telling girls his age because they automatically think he is creepy and that something must be wrong with him if he is that old and still single.
I felt bad for the guy. His mother takes it upon herself to drive Christ's message into his head at every opportunity: Single people pollute society.
Those are the words she uses and, oh, how he wants to make his mother happy.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
So Poor, You Can't Even Pay Attention
Now that we have just acquired massive debt, I feel it is appropriate to talk about being poor. This is actually only the second car loan I have ever had. If you buy crap piles, you may as well pay cash for them.
When we bought our first car, I said to my soon-to-be-wife, "This is it. We can't be poor anymore." No more living with mom for the summer (not that I had for a few years). No more jobs that only pay $20 per day. No living off credit cards, as students are so fond of doing. It was scary then. Now, working ourselves to death is just the way of life we all seem to fall into eventually.
But however bad my situation is, I think my kids will always have it better than I did. That is my goal anyway. My sister told me that her husband read my blog and commented, "He makes it sound like you were REALLY poor when you were kids." That's good. Because we were REALLY poor.
So poor that we had to come up with our own fun, like folding eachother up in the hide-a-bed couch. Jumping off the roof. Playing on construction sites. Writing letters to girls in my second grade class telling them I want to "hump" them, because I thought that is what normal people did.
My parents were divorced and my mother worked and went to school. The kids were on their own. When we came home from school, we felt lucky if there was a wilted head of lettuce in the fridge to pick at. Days with bread were heaven. I favored mustard sandwiches but my brother just decided to go for it and try a blend of ketchup and jelly. He ate more than one. He also didn't hesitate to grab a raw potato and gnaw it down to a powdery white stump. I usually just ate frozen peas. Occasionally, I would try to eat one of those cylinders of frozen orange juice concentrate but it would take days to eat half of it, in all it's potent sweetness.
I had seen my sister make her own "thousand island" dressing, more generically known in Utah as "fry sauce" and I tried it once. It resulted in the kitchen sink being clogged with fistfuls of soggy flour dough. And, of course, I had to endure my mother waking me up in the night to yell at me. It wasn't uncommon.
It tortured me that my sister had one of those little dipping packets from McDonalds; a little plastic cup filled with honey. She saved it and saved it. I asked her over and over if I could have it, but no. It was special and it was hers. I was too dumb to realize I could have walked one block to McDonald's and just asked for one there.
One time I found a half-drank bottle of orange juice at a bus stop and I took it home and put it in the refrigerator. I didn't drink any, because I wanted my mother to see how full it was. What a hero I would be for providing our family with this mostly-full bottle of orange juice. If only I could find some partially edible bacon and eggs laying around. I would be right up there with Jesus.
Then my mother came home and yelled at me for even touching the bottle of orange juice. Why am I being yelled at? I am a hero. It blew my mind.
One time I was walking home from a friends house and I found five one-dollar bills blowing around in the street. I ran home with them, excited to show them to mom. She would be so happy that I could by my own crap and I wouldn't have to ask her to by stuff for me. But when I showed her the money I found, she didn't get excited or happy for me. She asked if she could borrow it.
What? For food, she said. Reluctantly, I let her borrow the money. But I wanted it ALL back someday. I would not forget.
I stole candy from 7-Eleven. It didn't seem wrong. Kids were supposed to have candy and that was the only way kids like me were going to get any. My friend showed me how. Sometimes I feel bad that I stole from 7-Eleven, but when I think back I know that I only took 3 cent Bazooka Joe gum and those little Jolly Ranchers. In total, I probably only stole about a dollars worth of candy. I will make it up to them. Plus, I think the clerk in the store knew I was stealing and simply didn't care.
Our family only drove Volkswagon Bugs until I was about 10 years old or older. We didn't even have a car for years after the divorce. We had a Ford Maverik for a short period and I remember being drugged up, laying on the seat, watching my mother sweat and cry and worry about the car overheating and barely moving on the highway while she was shuttling me to the doctors between Colorado Springs and Denver.
When Ben Folds says, "In hindsight, being poor was not so bad." It only makes me think he has completely forgotten what it is really like to be poor.
When we bought our first car, I said to my soon-to-be-wife, "This is it. We can't be poor anymore." No more living with mom for the summer (not that I had for a few years). No more jobs that only pay $20 per day. No living off credit cards, as students are so fond of doing. It was scary then. Now, working ourselves to death is just the way of life we all seem to fall into eventually.
But however bad my situation is, I think my kids will always have it better than I did. That is my goal anyway. My sister told me that her husband read my blog and commented, "He makes it sound like you were REALLY poor when you were kids." That's good. Because we were REALLY poor.
So poor that we had to come up with our own fun, like folding eachother up in the hide-a-bed couch. Jumping off the roof. Playing on construction sites. Writing letters to girls in my second grade class telling them I want to "hump" them, because I thought that is what normal people did.
My parents were divorced and my mother worked and went to school. The kids were on their own. When we came home from school, we felt lucky if there was a wilted head of lettuce in the fridge to pick at. Days with bread were heaven. I favored mustard sandwiches but my brother just decided to go for it and try a blend of ketchup and jelly. He ate more than one. He also didn't hesitate to grab a raw potato and gnaw it down to a powdery white stump. I usually just ate frozen peas. Occasionally, I would try to eat one of those cylinders of frozen orange juice concentrate but it would take days to eat half of it, in all it's potent sweetness.
I had seen my sister make her own "thousand island" dressing, more generically known in Utah as "fry sauce" and I tried it once. It resulted in the kitchen sink being clogged with fistfuls of soggy flour dough. And, of course, I had to endure my mother waking me up in the night to yell at me. It wasn't uncommon.
It tortured me that my sister had one of those little dipping packets from McDonalds; a little plastic cup filled with honey. She saved it and saved it. I asked her over and over if I could have it, but no. It was special and it was hers. I was too dumb to realize I could have walked one block to McDonald's and just asked for one there.
One time I found a half-drank bottle of orange juice at a bus stop and I took it home and put it in the refrigerator. I didn't drink any, because I wanted my mother to see how full it was. What a hero I would be for providing our family with this mostly-full bottle of orange juice. If only I could find some partially edible bacon and eggs laying around. I would be right up there with Jesus.
Then my mother came home and yelled at me for even touching the bottle of orange juice. Why am I being yelled at? I am a hero. It blew my mind.
One time I was walking home from a friends house and I found five one-dollar bills blowing around in the street. I ran home with them, excited to show them to mom. She would be so happy that I could by my own crap and I wouldn't have to ask her to by stuff for me. But when I showed her the money I found, she didn't get excited or happy for me. She asked if she could borrow it.
What? For food, she said. Reluctantly, I let her borrow the money. But I wanted it ALL back someday. I would not forget.
I stole candy from 7-Eleven. It didn't seem wrong. Kids were supposed to have candy and that was the only way kids like me were going to get any. My friend showed me how. Sometimes I feel bad that I stole from 7-Eleven, but when I think back I know that I only took 3 cent Bazooka Joe gum and those little Jolly Ranchers. In total, I probably only stole about a dollars worth of candy. I will make it up to them. Plus, I think the clerk in the store knew I was stealing and simply didn't care.
Our family only drove Volkswagon Bugs until I was about 10 years old or older. We didn't even have a car for years after the divorce. We had a Ford Maverik for a short period and I remember being drugged up, laying on the seat, watching my mother sweat and cry and worry about the car overheating and barely moving on the highway while she was shuttling me to the doctors between Colorado Springs and Denver.
When Ben Folds says, "In hindsight, being poor was not so bad." It only makes me think he has completely forgotten what it is really like to be poor.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Rock the Casbah, Bring the Noise
It is frustrating to buy a car because you know that they are all destined to become piles of crap. Here are the cars I have considered buying:
BMW
Acura
Honda
Toyota
Mazda
I'm not a snob and I couldn't give two squirts about keeping up with the joneses, those are just the cars (aside from the Mazdas) that have proven themselves to be the more reliable, better-crafted autos. BMW and Acura are way out of my price range.
We ended up buying a Mazda 3. I'm taking a chance on a (sort of) american car. Please don't let me down, Ford. The price was good and it has all the crazy options: tinted windows and sunroof, leather seats, a DVD navigation system that pops up out of the dashboard. It is a nice car. It rides a lot smoother and has much more room than our civic. It has a lot more power and it's only a little lower on the gas mileage.
But I think too many gadgets are just a risk. Cars that parallel park themselves or windshield wipers that turn themselves on when they detect rain are just an annoying $1000 repair waiting to happen.
My biggest complaint about the car is the stereo system. It kind of seems like the entire dashboard is the stereo. It would be very difficult to replace the stereo with an aftermarket head unit. It has a six CD changer built into the dash, which makes me imagine having six CD's lost when it breaks and I don't care to fix it. All of the speakers in the car we bought are blown. That is okay because I want to replace them anyhow.
After looking around, I discovered that Ford has a standard of using 5X8 inch speakers in most of their cars. Our car only has 5X8 speakers in it. What's up, Ford? This alone makes me think that the company would be better off using Henry Ford's dusty old corps as their CEO rather than the current living, breathing CEO (he may be just as dusty). ROUND speakers. ROUND! Egg-shaped speakers are cheap crap that flub out at lower volumes.
The worst offense of all makes me want to swear out loud, but I won't do it here because I know that teachers across the nation read my blog entries to the fresh young minds in their classrooms. The offense: Volume that automatically adjusts to the speed of the vehicle.
I don't say I hate many things, but I HATE this feature. HATE. HATE. HATE IT. Please do me the great honor of selecting the volume of my own stereo. Pleeeeease. It does me no service to lower the volume every time I hit traffic. It creates extra work, because every time I hit traffic, I also have to reach my arm up and adjust the volume BACK to where it was. Then the cars get moving again and suddenly the radio is too loud. Maybe this is why they put stereo controls on the stearing wheel. Just in case my right arm gets shot by someone with road rage, I can still adjust the volume with my left thumb.
If Ford can't come up with a decent car with a reliable drive-train then they could at least put a respectable sound system in the car. One time, I yelled at another driver "Move it, Ford Out-of-Focus!" My wife said, "That was lamer than my joke about Butt (Butte) Montana." To which I argued, "People say Butt, Montana by accident all the time. No one has EVER accidentally said Ford Out-of-Focus. Mine was at least original."
And I think that is the plight of american car makers. They need, but refuse, to keep things simple. One knob for headlights. One knob for wipers. A basic stereo that can easily be upgraded and decent speakers. Go nuts and leave an input so people can plug in their Ipods. Maybe a bench seat so you can put your arm around your honey. That's it. It doesn't have to be any harder than that. And just not completely hideous. Why is it so hard? It would be awesome and easy to put a built-in child-seat in EVERY car. It isn't rocket science but it would make a world of difference to consumers. The Jetta that comes with a guitar is an interesting idea, but please don't use a guitar from Toys-R-Us.
We like our car despite the fact that it is fancier than we need. I doubt I will ever use the navigation system and half the options bug me more than they help me. If anyone knows how to turn off the auto-volume, please tell me.
BMW
Acura
Honda
Toyota
Mazda
I'm not a snob and I couldn't give two squirts about keeping up with the joneses, those are just the cars (aside from the Mazdas) that have proven themselves to be the more reliable, better-crafted autos. BMW and Acura are way out of my price range.
We ended up buying a Mazda 3. I'm taking a chance on a (sort of) american car. Please don't let me down, Ford. The price was good and it has all the crazy options: tinted windows and sunroof, leather seats, a DVD navigation system that pops up out of the dashboard. It is a nice car. It rides a lot smoother and has much more room than our civic. It has a lot more power and it's only a little lower on the gas mileage.
But I think too many gadgets are just a risk. Cars that parallel park themselves or windshield wipers that turn themselves on when they detect rain are just an annoying $1000 repair waiting to happen.
My biggest complaint about the car is the stereo system. It kind of seems like the entire dashboard is the stereo. It would be very difficult to replace the stereo with an aftermarket head unit. It has a six CD changer built into the dash, which makes me imagine having six CD's lost when it breaks and I don't care to fix it. All of the speakers in the car we bought are blown. That is okay because I want to replace them anyhow.
After looking around, I discovered that Ford has a standard of using 5X8 inch speakers in most of their cars. Our car only has 5X8 speakers in it. What's up, Ford? This alone makes me think that the company would be better off using Henry Ford's dusty old corps as their CEO rather than the current living, breathing CEO (he may be just as dusty). ROUND speakers. ROUND! Egg-shaped speakers are cheap crap that flub out at lower volumes.
The worst offense of all makes me want to swear out loud, but I won't do it here because I know that teachers across the nation read my blog entries to the fresh young minds in their classrooms. The offense: Volume that automatically adjusts to the speed of the vehicle.
I don't say I hate many things, but I HATE this feature. HATE. HATE. HATE IT. Please do me the great honor of selecting the volume of my own stereo. Pleeeeease. It does me no service to lower the volume every time I hit traffic. It creates extra work, because every time I hit traffic, I also have to reach my arm up and adjust the volume BACK to where it was. Then the cars get moving again and suddenly the radio is too loud. Maybe this is why they put stereo controls on the stearing wheel. Just in case my right arm gets shot by someone with road rage, I can still adjust the volume with my left thumb.
If Ford can't come up with a decent car with a reliable drive-train then they could at least put a respectable sound system in the car. One time, I yelled at another driver "Move it, Ford Out-of-Focus!" My wife said, "That was lamer than my joke about Butt (Butte) Montana." To which I argued, "People say Butt, Montana by accident all the time. No one has EVER accidentally said Ford Out-of-Focus. Mine was at least original."
And I think that is the plight of american car makers. They need, but refuse, to keep things simple. One knob for headlights. One knob for wipers. A basic stereo that can easily be upgraded and decent speakers. Go nuts and leave an input so people can plug in their Ipods. Maybe a bench seat so you can put your arm around your honey. That's it. It doesn't have to be any harder than that. And just not completely hideous. Why is it so hard? It would be awesome and easy to put a built-in child-seat in EVERY car. It isn't rocket science but it would make a world of difference to consumers. The Jetta that comes with a guitar is an interesting idea, but please don't use a guitar from Toys-R-Us.
We like our car despite the fact that it is fancier than we need. I doubt I will ever use the navigation system and half the options bug me more than they help me. If anyone knows how to turn off the auto-volume, please tell me.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Rise to Vote, Sir
The "Don't Tread On Me" flag flies for election day.Even though we just moved, I figured out where and how to vote in my correct precinct. Who is this responsible citizen I have become?
I don't know your views, but I have had enough of the rightwing crazy train and I'm looking to unseat those pachyderms. I also liked a pamphlet we received in the mail regarding our local propositions.
Proposition 1 for Recreational Projects is cool because they include a map with every facility they plan to build or improve along with trails and other projects in the valley. Their is an itemized list of the exact work to be done and the allocated cost. The decision is to either finance the projects (locking in prices at current rates) or pay-as-we-go (in which case we are subject to higher market prices as time goes on). The proposition is well put together.
Proposition 2 is to decide if we would like the county to spend $48 million on buying "open space," basically to prevent the land from becoming completely covered in churches, Starbucks and Walmarts. For $6.50 per year, they have my vote. My kids need somewhere to play besides parking lots.
Proposition 3 is the big one they advertise on television. It is basically a request to stockpile money for future road and rail projects. No project has actually been proposed, and once there is a proposal it has to be approved through several channels. Roads and trains are convenient, but I'm afraid I cannot support this plan to stockpile money without any idea of what it will specifically be spent on. Proposition 3 should be more like Proposition 1. Then I would support it. But if you ask me, the last thing you want to do is hand a giant pile of unspoken-for money to politicians and developers. It raises the state sales tax .25% and is estimated to cost the average household over $100 per year.
Without voting, we don't have any say at all. It's worth a try.
If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding
Ethan is having his first spelling test this week. The teacher sent home his vocabulary words today. A sample of the words: I, is, fan, man. We had him spell all of the words. He got them all without any hesitation.
Just to test the waters I asked him to spell these: street, smoke, and monster. He got all of those, too. I think Ethan is too much of an introvert to be in the "accelerated learning program." He is too quiet and likes to do his own thing. But I really don't see that he is getting much out of first grade. The work is a joke. Why is there so much coloring in school? What purpose does it serve? I know phonics are involved, but I really get tired of reading mindless sentences about "pup" and "sis." Those aren't even words.
Pam was on the path. The pup was thin. Pam sat on a mat. Pam said, "It is fun on the path."
I guess it is probably working but he never seems to be challenged. There is nothing about school to make it enjoyable. Ethan says all of the kids tell him he is good at drawing. If I had a scanner I would post the picture he drew of a duck with a sledgehammer chasing an ant. Above the ant, it says, "Go ant!" The duck has a chicken beak because Ethan didn't know how to draw a duck bill. But we took some time and showed him how to draw bills and webbed feet.
I said, "You ARE a good drawer, Ethan." And he said, "I'm not as good at drawing as you are, dad."
It was a weird conversation because it felt like we were friends instead of father and son. I told him he would get bigger and then he would be better than me.
If nothing else, school is good for doodling. I hardly ever doodle anymore even though it's one of my favorite things. Ethan does doodles of me and I always have four arms. Sometimes he draws a heart in my chest. Not a heart shape. A bloody organ pumping away. It's sweet.
Just to test the waters I asked him to spell these: street, smoke, and monster. He got all of those, too. I think Ethan is too much of an introvert to be in the "accelerated learning program." He is too quiet and likes to do his own thing. But I really don't see that he is getting much out of first grade. The work is a joke. Why is there so much coloring in school? What purpose does it serve? I know phonics are involved, but I really get tired of reading mindless sentences about "pup" and "sis." Those aren't even words.
Pam was on the path. The pup was thin. Pam sat on a mat. Pam said, "It is fun on the path."
I guess it is probably working but he never seems to be challenged. There is nothing about school to make it enjoyable. Ethan says all of the kids tell him he is good at drawing. If I had a scanner I would post the picture he drew of a duck with a sledgehammer chasing an ant. Above the ant, it says, "Go ant!" The duck has a chicken beak because Ethan didn't know how to draw a duck bill. But we took some time and showed him how to draw bills and webbed feet.
I said, "You ARE a good drawer, Ethan." And he said, "I'm not as good at drawing as you are, dad."
It was a weird conversation because it felt like we were friends instead of father and son. I told him he would get bigger and then he would be better than me.
If nothing else, school is good for doodling. I hardly ever doodle anymore even though it's one of my favorite things. Ethan does doodles of me and I always have four arms. Sometimes he draws a heart in my chest. Not a heart shape. A bloody organ pumping away. It's sweet.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Watch Human Relations as they Die
More moments of note in customer service.
REI
"I like these shoes I bought here a few years ago but now the soles are completely worn out."
I lift my shoe to show the sole.
"That's a "Vibram" sole. Those should hold up good."
She said it was her first day. You can't expect people to listen to you on the first day.
Costco
"Can you guys rotate the tires on my minivan?"
"Did you buy them at Costco?"
"No."
"Then we can't rotate them. Are you sure you didn't buy them here."
"Yes."
"Our computer says you bought tires for a Cherokee and a Civic..."
"I did. But I need the tires rotated on my minivan."
"Are you sure you didn't buy them here?"
What good is an Executive Membership if you can't even get your tires rotated?
Joanne Fabrics
My friend Ross and I started a softball team one year. One of the rules was that every player had to have a shirt with a number on it. We went to a fabric/craft store to find some iron-on numbers...
Ross: "Do you guys have any BIGGER iron-on numbers? These are tiny."
Clerk: "No. Those are the only numbers we have."
Ross: "You guys only sell TINY numbers?"
Clerk: "Yes."
Ross: "But you have GIANT iron-on poodles?" Pointing at poodles on the shelves.
Clerk: "Shut up." Angrily walks away.
It was one of the funniest moments in customer service ever. I guess the giant poodles are for poodle skirts. If you know what those are.
Another funny thing is when you ask a person:
"What have you been up to?"
and they say, "Fine."
or the opposite, "How's it going?"
and they say, "Nothing."
It's a deaf society.
REI
"I like these shoes I bought here a few years ago but now the soles are completely worn out."
I lift my shoe to show the sole.
"That's a "Vibram" sole. Those should hold up good."
She said it was her first day. You can't expect people to listen to you on the first day.
Costco
"Can you guys rotate the tires on my minivan?"
"Did you buy them at Costco?"
"No."
"Then we can't rotate them. Are you sure you didn't buy them here."
"Yes."
"Our computer says you bought tires for a Cherokee and a Civic..."
"I did. But I need the tires rotated on my minivan."
"Are you sure you didn't buy them here?"
What good is an Executive Membership if you can't even get your tires rotated?
Joanne Fabrics
My friend Ross and I started a softball team one year. One of the rules was that every player had to have a shirt with a number on it. We went to a fabric/craft store to find some iron-on numbers...
Ross: "Do you guys have any BIGGER iron-on numbers? These are tiny."
Clerk: "No. Those are the only numbers we have."
Ross: "You guys only sell TINY numbers?"
Clerk: "Yes."
Ross: "But you have GIANT iron-on poodles?" Pointing at poodles on the shelves.
Clerk: "Shut up." Angrily walks away.
It was one of the funniest moments in customer service ever. I guess the giant poodles are for poodle skirts. If you know what those are.
Another funny thing is when you ask a person:
"What have you been up to?"
and they say, "Fine."
or the opposite, "How's it going?"
and they say, "Nothing."
It's a deaf society.
She Doesn't Care Just as Long as His Ship's Coming In
After the pleasure of moving about 10,000 couches and a lot of deliberation, I have decided that, if I had all the time and money in the world, I would build my own couch. Just to see if I could do it. And I feel strongly enough about it to tell the world.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Hit and Run, Dreams That Grind You to Dust, and Mercury
Friday wasn't fun. It wasn't particularly horrible, just not enjoyable.
Our Jeep has been breaking down ever since we bought it and we always fix it. For a long time, we have been saying "After this, we're not going to fix it anymore." So when I went in for Safety Inspection and they said it needed a $500 repair to pass we decided that was the end.
We went and found a car that we like but we are not in the best of financial situations to buy a nicer, newer car that won't leave me stranded on the highway at 3 am and doesn't have a look equivalent to walking around with your pants up to your nipples. Were are still trying to get things worked out and I spent the bulk of Friday morning dealing with car dealers. Lousy ones at that. My wife had to wait in the van with 5 kids while I wheeled and dealed and she ended up killing the battery in the van while she waited.
After that I thought I would relax by watching an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" while I ate lunch. It happened to be an episode where Albert dreams about being kidnapped by goofy stereotypical hoot-n-hollar Injuns who are trying to take over Walnut Grove and only he can stop the feathered dufuses. That didn't make me feel better about life.
Then I went outside and spent the hour and twenty minutes I had left before work, chopping down a tree in our yard with a dull, rusty axe to appease the Home Insurance Gods. You can bet our neighbor Flo was grinning from ear to ear. One regret I have in my life is that I do not own a chainsaw. I plan on telling more specific origins of my family as soon as my mother approves the story but to put things bluntly, I am an outcast on my mother's side of the family for NOT owning a chainsaw. And not just one of those wussy 12 inch blade saws. I'm talking about the 3 foot blade. I have ALWAYS thought I would own one of those by now. If not for practical purposes then just to feel like I belong to my mother's side of the family.
Anyway, I chopped down the tree until the very last minute. There is something special about your lifestyle when you regularly make statements like, "I can rest for a minute in the car while I'm driving to work." Usually while covered in sweat and gasping for breath.
At the start of the shift, I got off my mega-bumpercar and pushed a cart onto the forks of George's stock picker (he got fired from the chip job, too). I turned around and, next thing I knew, my legs were knocked out from under me, I flopped forward and ended up hugging some strange mexican dude who apparently did not see me as he was driving through. You can just call him Mofo like the rest of us.
He yelled at me, "What the Hell are you doing?" And with my arms still around his neck I said, "YOU drove into ME."
I told the details of my day to some of my coworkers and one of them said, as if it was all to be expected, "Mercury is in retrograde."
I said, "Huhhhh?"
He said, "Mercury is in retrograde. It looks like the planet is moving backwards in the Zodiac and it causes problems with money, communication, travel, business deals and all kinds of things. It's a bad time to buy a car but it's not surprising your car broke down. My good cell phone broke last week. Now I have to use this piece of crap. The retrograde lasts until November 18th."
So here I thought my financial woes all stemmed from a lifetime of improper planning and poor educational and employment decisions on MY part but it turns out the whole thing is Mercury's fault. Well screw you, you dumb planet. Though, it does feel good to know where to point the finger. Everyone pet the scapegoat. Touch him. Love him.
I don't like the idea of getting a part-time job but now I can bond with my other coworkers who do the same thing. Robbie and Seth are spending most of their income on their cars (a Neon SRT4 and a Subaru WRX). They have ad nauseum discussions about turbos and blow off valves. They talk about starting a club for guys who think they have cool cars so they can drive around together for no good reason. Maybe I can join, but I don't have a turbo so I'm probably not cool enough.
Robbie is very cool. He used to be heavy into the BMX bike riding scene but he got hurt too much so he doesn't do it anymore. Most of his teeth are fake or bridge work. I guess his shoulder is really messed up. Seth says he puts on a brave face at work but when the shift is over he goes out to his car and sits in agony. He says he can barely move his arms after work. I asked, "Did he ever go pro or do any tournaments or the X-games or anything." Seth said, "No, but he used to ride with pros."
So Robbie destroyed his body for BMX, never went pro and now drives a forklift for a (painful) living? Well, he has more to show for it than that. He has lots of face piercings, stars tattooed all over his arms, hair died like a leapord pelt. Those things aren't nothing.
You can't be scared to chase a dream, even if you're ground to dust between Earth and Mercury in the process. Bust it!
Our Jeep has been breaking down ever since we bought it and we always fix it. For a long time, we have been saying "After this, we're not going to fix it anymore." So when I went in for Safety Inspection and they said it needed a $500 repair to pass we decided that was the end.
We went and found a car that we like but we are not in the best of financial situations to buy a nicer, newer car that won't leave me stranded on the highway at 3 am and doesn't have a look equivalent to walking around with your pants up to your nipples. Were are still trying to get things worked out and I spent the bulk of Friday morning dealing with car dealers. Lousy ones at that. My wife had to wait in the van with 5 kids while I wheeled and dealed and she ended up killing the battery in the van while she waited.
After that I thought I would relax by watching an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" while I ate lunch. It happened to be an episode where Albert dreams about being kidnapped by goofy stereotypical hoot-n-hollar Injuns who are trying to take over Walnut Grove and only he can stop the feathered dufuses. That didn't make me feel better about life.
Then I went outside and spent the hour and twenty minutes I had left before work, chopping down a tree in our yard with a dull, rusty axe to appease the Home Insurance Gods. You can bet our neighbor Flo was grinning from ear to ear. One regret I have in my life is that I do not own a chainsaw. I plan on telling more specific origins of my family as soon as my mother approves the story but to put things bluntly, I am an outcast on my mother's side of the family for NOT owning a chainsaw. And not just one of those wussy 12 inch blade saws. I'm talking about the 3 foot blade. I have ALWAYS thought I would own one of those by now. If not for practical purposes then just to feel like I belong to my mother's side of the family.
Anyway, I chopped down the tree until the very last minute. There is something special about your lifestyle when you regularly make statements like, "I can rest for a minute in the car while I'm driving to work." Usually while covered in sweat and gasping for breath.
At the start of the shift, I got off my mega-bumpercar and pushed a cart onto the forks of George's stock picker (he got fired from the chip job, too). I turned around and, next thing I knew, my legs were knocked out from under me, I flopped forward and ended up hugging some strange mexican dude who apparently did not see me as he was driving through. You can just call him Mofo like the rest of us.
He yelled at me, "What the Hell are you doing?" And with my arms still around his neck I said, "YOU drove into ME."
I told the details of my day to some of my coworkers and one of them said, as if it was all to be expected, "Mercury is in retrograde."
I said, "Huhhhh?"
He said, "Mercury is in retrograde. It looks like the planet is moving backwards in the Zodiac and it causes problems with money, communication, travel, business deals and all kinds of things. It's a bad time to buy a car but it's not surprising your car broke down. My good cell phone broke last week. Now I have to use this piece of crap. The retrograde lasts until November 18th."
So here I thought my financial woes all stemmed from a lifetime of improper planning and poor educational and employment decisions on MY part but it turns out the whole thing is Mercury's fault. Well screw you, you dumb planet. Though, it does feel good to know where to point the finger. Everyone pet the scapegoat. Touch him. Love him.
I don't like the idea of getting a part-time job but now I can bond with my other coworkers who do the same thing. Robbie and Seth are spending most of their income on their cars (a Neon SRT4 and a Subaru WRX). They have ad nauseum discussions about turbos and blow off valves. They talk about starting a club for guys who think they have cool cars so they can drive around together for no good reason. Maybe I can join, but I don't have a turbo so I'm probably not cool enough.
Robbie is very cool. He used to be heavy into the BMX bike riding scene but he got hurt too much so he doesn't do it anymore. Most of his teeth are fake or bridge work. I guess his shoulder is really messed up. Seth says he puts on a brave face at work but when the shift is over he goes out to his car and sits in agony. He says he can barely move his arms after work. I asked, "Did he ever go pro or do any tournaments or the X-games or anything." Seth said, "No, but he used to ride with pros."
So Robbie destroyed his body for BMX, never went pro and now drives a forklift for a (painful) living? Well, he has more to show for it than that. He has lots of face piercings, stars tattooed all over his arms, hair died like a leapord pelt. Those things aren't nothing.
You can't be scared to chase a dream, even if you're ground to dust between Earth and Mercury in the process. Bust it!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Productivity
Look how productive I have been today. It's easy when you just grab stuff from elsewhere on the internet and type up a paragraph to go with it. I see a lot of news articles about how American productivity is down. Especially a lot of articles saying things like "so many millions of dollars worth of productivity are being lost each year" due to distractions like fantasy football.
I think these people have their heads in the clouds. Possibly white clouds, more likely brown. All jobs seem to like to measure productivity, despite the irony that the methods they use to measure often slow down work efficiency, not to mention destroying morale. Who likes to be lectured when they leave to use the bathroom? Nobody. But it happens everyday.
Often, employers do not offer any incentive to work faster. At my desk job, if you did the work of two people for an entire month, you would get a 7% bonus. Does that sound like a good trade off, 200% of the work for a 7% bonus?
There is something I call "Sanity time." When I do a big burst of work for a few hours, I often like to work at a relaxed pace for an hour or so immediately following. How is this met by those in authority? I remember a boss's take on one such occassion:
Boss: "Why are you guys just sitting here talking?"
Us: "We've been working. Look at our numbers. We are at 130% of productivity for the day."
Boss: "Yes. But think of how high those numbers COULD have been if you weren't sitting here talking."
And I loved one girl's response to a boss:
"Uh, could you take ESPN.com off of your monitor while you're giving me a lecture not to surf the internet while I work?"
It was a bad sign at the chip moving job that an employee who had been there for 5 years was all excited that she was working at 105% of the requirement. She was working in a selfish manner that slowed down those who worked around her. And THAT wasn't even the worst part of the job. I don't miss it.
The furniture warehouse is easy. You only need to meet 70% of their expectation to keep your job. Anything over 80% is accompanied by a bonus. And worse, the less work you do the better you look. It is all measured by how many loads you move, so the trick is just to put one or two pieces of furniture per load as opposed to the old style of piling stuff on as high as you could. So, in classic fashion, there is a lot of running around while little work is actually being done. And it never fails that the people with the highest percentages are the ones who are also cutting the most corners. Who cares about quality? Not your calculator.
So you can blame fantasy football if you like, but chances are that workers would come up with some other distraction if online sports weren't there. I have a friend who frequently says, "I will sit here and count holes in the ceiling before I do another shred of work for this company beyond what I am already doing." Many people who do work of quality end up with low numbers and are grouped with the slackers. It doesn't make those people very excited to be at work nor very excited to continue caring. I pointed out to coworkers from various levels at the desk job that 4 company workers committing suicide in a 4 year period was a very bad sign and something to be concerned about, but I may as well have been talking to the stapler. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that.
So the trick is fly under the radar. Get a number about 110% where no one will bug you to do more, but don't do so much that your bosses will dump big annoying projects on you that do not result in any additional pay. That is the American Way. Shine on you crazy diamonds.
These are the challenges of producivity.I think it is best to remember: Money will always come and go, but insanity is forever.
I think these people have their heads in the clouds. Possibly white clouds, more likely brown. All jobs seem to like to measure productivity, despite the irony that the methods they use to measure often slow down work efficiency, not to mention destroying morale. Who likes to be lectured when they leave to use the bathroom? Nobody. But it happens everyday.
Often, employers do not offer any incentive to work faster. At my desk job, if you did the work of two people for an entire month, you would get a 7% bonus. Does that sound like a good trade off, 200% of the work for a 7% bonus?
There is something I call "Sanity time." When I do a big burst of work for a few hours, I often like to work at a relaxed pace for an hour or so immediately following. How is this met by those in authority? I remember a boss's take on one such occassion:
Boss: "Why are you guys just sitting here talking?"
Us: "We've been working. Look at our numbers. We are at 130% of productivity for the day."
Boss: "Yes. But think of how high those numbers COULD have been if you weren't sitting here talking."
And I loved one girl's response to a boss:
"Uh, could you take ESPN.com off of your monitor while you're giving me a lecture not to surf the internet while I work?"
It was a bad sign at the chip moving job that an employee who had been there for 5 years was all excited that she was working at 105% of the requirement. She was working in a selfish manner that slowed down those who worked around her. And THAT wasn't even the worst part of the job. I don't miss it.
The furniture warehouse is easy. You only need to meet 70% of their expectation to keep your job. Anything over 80% is accompanied by a bonus. And worse, the less work you do the better you look. It is all measured by how many loads you move, so the trick is just to put one or two pieces of furniture per load as opposed to the old style of piling stuff on as high as you could. So, in classic fashion, there is a lot of running around while little work is actually being done. And it never fails that the people with the highest percentages are the ones who are also cutting the most corners. Who cares about quality? Not your calculator.
So you can blame fantasy football if you like, but chances are that workers would come up with some other distraction if online sports weren't there. I have a friend who frequently says, "I will sit here and count holes in the ceiling before I do another shred of work for this company beyond what I am already doing." Many people who do work of quality end up with low numbers and are grouped with the slackers. It doesn't make those people very excited to be at work nor very excited to continue caring. I pointed out to coworkers from various levels at the desk job that 4 company workers committing suicide in a 4 year period was a very bad sign and something to be concerned about, but I may as well have been talking to the stapler. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that.
So the trick is fly under the radar. Get a number about 110% where no one will bug you to do more, but don't do so much that your bosses will dump big annoying projects on you that do not result in any additional pay. That is the American Way. Shine on you crazy diamonds.
These are the challenges of producivity.I think it is best to remember: Money will always come and go, but insanity is forever.
This Post Ssssss...
I think it would be a nice part-time job to be one of those guys that gets to say half a word, later to be combined to form a complete word. I can't imagine it takes any acting experience. Every 5th grader knows that the response to a scornful:
SHhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
Is the sound "it." Where do you think I can apply?
I Just Came Down to Eat Some Pinecones
It's tough to be a bear, nowadays. Our local news showed some footage of a bear being tranquilized and falling 50 feet out of a tree. I tried to find the footage on their website but came up with nothing. This Craig Kilborne clip pretty much sums it up with an added twist, though.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Movie Ideas Better Than What is Currently in Theaters
Home Shopping Network: The Movie
Hear how random callers describe their elation at the deal they received on a denim jumper and other assorted items. See callers scramble to order the very last set of uncirculated state quarters. You will laugh, you will cry, you will max out your credit card.
Arches Over Auschwitz
The mostly-true story of Ronald McDonald (played by Willard Scott) in Nazi-Germany. First segregated, then placed in hiding, finally to endure a stint in the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Would he survive the killing campaign to establish a restaurant chain to unite the world? Would he keep off the weight in doing so? It totally isn't self-promoting tripe.
Pimp My Tax Return
Can the greatest minds in accounting get a return for a part-time ice cream man / full-time dumpster diver who hasn't filed taxes since 2003? How will they explain the luxury cars purchased in his name? Will they receive permission from the IRS to print Schedules A-D on off-da-hook stationary? Financial hi-jinx at its best!
Clear and Present Patriot Games
Harrison Ford plays a man who stumbles onto a presidential money laundering scheme but can't reveal it to the public without first revealing his rightwing underground beefcake-webpage business. Meanwhile, the president's party-girl daughter and her meth-addict boyfriend go for a joyride in Airforce 1 and well... it all gets pretty complicated after that and doesn't really go anywhere. It's kind of like all of Tom Clancy's other books but Tara Reid takes off her top in the film so just go see it.
J is for Jailbait
A rags-to-riches story about some girl (played by Lindsay Lohan), her squabbling family and their fight over her money, her struggle with drugs and eating disorders leading down a spiral of empty-headed self-destruction. All fictitious.
Christmas Hasn't Been Completely Ruined Yet
A Santa Clause imposter attempts to steal money from innocent and trusting children via movie theaters by making a movie about Jack Frost's attempts to unseat Santa Clause as the holiday king. That's it. Oh, and annoying footage of the stars singing "ICE ICE BABY" will be played in all of the commercials worldwide. A holiday hoot for people who have never considered committing suicide because of the horrors they see happening in the world around them.
We Are Your Overlords
Dakota Fanning plays the leader of an alien race which takes over earth to stomp out abortion, gay lifestyles, poor people, black people, healthcare, unions, pension plans, economic responsibility, peace and integrity. Watch out! This film is going to be a blockbuster everywhere but California and New York!
Hear how random callers describe their elation at the deal they received on a denim jumper and other assorted items. See callers scramble to order the very last set of uncirculated state quarters. You will laugh, you will cry, you will max out your credit card.
Arches Over Auschwitz
The mostly-true story of Ronald McDonald (played by Willard Scott) in Nazi-Germany. First segregated, then placed in hiding, finally to endure a stint in the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Would he survive the killing campaign to establish a restaurant chain to unite the world? Would he keep off the weight in doing so? It totally isn't self-promoting tripe.
Pimp My Tax Return
Can the greatest minds in accounting get a return for a part-time ice cream man / full-time dumpster diver who hasn't filed taxes since 2003? How will they explain the luxury cars purchased in his name? Will they receive permission from the IRS to print Schedules A-D on off-da-hook stationary? Financial hi-jinx at its best!
Clear and Present Patriot Games
Harrison Ford plays a man who stumbles onto a presidential money laundering scheme but can't reveal it to the public without first revealing his rightwing underground beefcake-webpage business. Meanwhile, the president's party-girl daughter and her meth-addict boyfriend go for a joyride in Airforce 1 and well... it all gets pretty complicated after that and doesn't really go anywhere. It's kind of like all of Tom Clancy's other books but Tara Reid takes off her top in the film so just go see it.
J is for Jailbait
A rags-to-riches story about some girl (played by Lindsay Lohan), her squabbling family and their fight over her money, her struggle with drugs and eating disorders leading down a spiral of empty-headed self-destruction. All fictitious.
Christmas Hasn't Been Completely Ruined Yet
A Santa Clause imposter attempts to steal money from innocent and trusting children via movie theaters by making a movie about Jack Frost's attempts to unseat Santa Clause as the holiday king. That's it. Oh, and annoying footage of the stars singing "ICE ICE BABY" will be played in all of the commercials worldwide. A holiday hoot for people who have never considered committing suicide because of the horrors they see happening in the world around them.
We Are Your Overlords
Dakota Fanning plays the leader of an alien race which takes over earth to stomp out abortion, gay lifestyles, poor people, black people, healthcare, unions, pension plans, economic responsibility, peace and integrity. Watch out! This film is going to be a blockbuster everywhere but California and New York!
She Went to the Grave Just a Little Too Soon and Flew Away Howling at the Yellow Moon
So here are the costumes. Jonah wouldn't wear the paws on his hands and we drew a nose and some whiskers on him after the pictures.
A beautiful butterfly.
This is Ethan marching in the parade at his school with zombie arms.
They told us we could see our kids in the classrooms after the parade. When I went to find Ethan I found him sitting quietly against the wall like this.
That's all. Go eat some candy.
A beautiful butterfly.
This is Ethan marching in the parade at his school with zombie arms.
They told us we could see our kids in the classrooms after the parade. When I went to find Ethan I found him sitting quietly against the wall like this.
That's all. Go eat some candy.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Heading South
Gary was raucously honking his name again but Louis wouldn't even look at the lead goose.
"Louis! Straighten up! This is supposed to be a letter "V!" Gary squawked.
Gary made Louis want to cough up his worms. Louis didn't even know what a letter "V" was but he wasn't about to admit that to a jerk like Gary. The next time they landed he would make a point of reminding everyone about the time Gary tried to initiate a mating ritual with a plastic decoy.
"Louis! Straighten up! This is supposed to be a letter "V!" Gary squawked.
Gary made Louis want to cough up his worms. Louis didn't even know what a letter "V" was but he wasn't about to admit that to a jerk like Gary. The next time they landed he would make a point of reminding everyone about the time Gary tried to initiate a mating ritual with a plastic decoy.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Who are the people in your neighborhood?
In my neighborhood we, once again, have some interesting characters. To our west we have a guy who refuses to cover his giant gut with a shirt. It's getting better now that the weather is cooling off. He has a wife, teenage daughter and some annoying dogs. He had a successful vegetable garden. There are three big cucumbers hanging from a vine on our fence and my wife is very worried that they will ruin before the neighbors pick them. When I was roofing the shed he yelled at me, "What the hell are ya buildin'?" I said, "It's a shed." Aside from that I've only heard him and his family yelling about all of the guns they own and which gun belongs to whom.
To the east of us is an old widow. Her name is Flo. She is retired. She doesn't work. She doesn't seem to go anywhere. She does nothing but spend every waking moment making sure her lawn is in perfect condition and, when she gets a chance, she comes and talks to us about what we can do to make OUR yard more perfect.
She sees the needles that fall from our pine tree and on to her lawn and reacts as if we are throwing dirty diapers on her grass without wadding them up first. She tells us that previous owners of the house agreed to cut down the tree but canceled that plan when they put the house up for sale. Hint, hint. She says, "And I told Jack that these are HIS pine needles and that HE should rake them up. And HE did a couple of times. Well that was awfully kind of him, Flo. You really shouldn't have let a neighbor like that get away from you. Oh how she wants all of our trees gone so she can sleep without dreaming of all those pesky autumn leaves scurrying across her living-astroturf. Doesn't mother nature know how she bothers Flo?
We live in a regular neighborhood but behind the fence in our backyard there are some duplexes. That is where our neighbor Bull lives. He hangs drywall and trains dogs and restores cars in his spare time. He has tattoos on his face and a pitbull. He and his buddies like to set up spotlights and work on cars until the wee hours of the night. He is actually like a home security system for us.
He asked me about buying my old Pontiac. I told him I was open to offers. He wanted me to know that if he bought the car that he wouldn't keep it stock. He would customize it. I said it is hard to keep old cars original. One of the first things I did was throw on a 4-barrel Edelbrock. Bull said, "No, I mean custom work like chopping the roof. Have you seen my buddy's truck over here. Me and him did that." Here is the truck:
To each his own, I guess. I can't complain. I'm the guy flying the Jolly Rodger in my front yard. One old man came by and asked if we were going to keep the flag up. When I said Yes, he said, "Well, I guess it means different things to different people."
P.S. The elementary school sucks here. It was one of the only schools in the state to fail the No Child Left Behind requirements. Our son never seems to have his homework assignments. The beer bottle is finally gone from the sidewalk but for almost a week an old car battery showed up on the main sidewalk directly in front of the school. It finally got hauled away today. I don't think any kids got into the acid, they were too busy kicking eachother in the groonies on the playground. The system works, to an extent.
To the east of us is an old widow. Her name is Flo. She is retired. She doesn't work. She doesn't seem to go anywhere. She does nothing but spend every waking moment making sure her lawn is in perfect condition and, when she gets a chance, she comes and talks to us about what we can do to make OUR yard more perfect.
She sees the needles that fall from our pine tree and on to her lawn and reacts as if we are throwing dirty diapers on her grass without wadding them up first. She tells us that previous owners of the house agreed to cut down the tree but canceled that plan when they put the house up for sale. Hint, hint. She says, "And I told Jack that these are HIS pine needles and that HE should rake them up. And HE did a couple of times. Well that was awfully kind of him, Flo. You really shouldn't have let a neighbor like that get away from you. Oh how she wants all of our trees gone so she can sleep without dreaming of all those pesky autumn leaves scurrying across her living-astroturf. Doesn't mother nature know how she bothers Flo?
We live in a regular neighborhood but behind the fence in our backyard there are some duplexes. That is where our neighbor Bull lives. He hangs drywall and trains dogs and restores cars in his spare time. He has tattoos on his face and a pitbull. He and his buddies like to set up spotlights and work on cars until the wee hours of the night. He is actually like a home security system for us.
He asked me about buying my old Pontiac. I told him I was open to offers. He wanted me to know that if he bought the car that he wouldn't keep it stock. He would customize it. I said it is hard to keep old cars original. One of the first things I did was throw on a 4-barrel Edelbrock. Bull said, "No, I mean custom work like chopping the roof. Have you seen my buddy's truck over here. Me and him did that." Here is the truck:
To each his own, I guess. I can't complain. I'm the guy flying the Jolly Rodger in my front yard. One old man came by and asked if we were going to keep the flag up. When I said Yes, he said, "Well, I guess it means different things to different people."
P.S. The elementary school sucks here. It was one of the only schools in the state to fail the No Child Left Behind requirements. Our son never seems to have his homework assignments. The beer bottle is finally gone from the sidewalk but for almost a week an old car battery showed up on the main sidewalk directly in front of the school. It finally got hauled away today. I don't think any kids got into the acid, they were too busy kicking eachother in the groonies on the playground. The system works, to an extent.
L to the V to the Beethoven
Last week I borrowed a Beethoven CD from the library. I played it in the car to which my daughter proclaimed, "Daddy, this is pretty music."
We were enjoying it, and since the girls had sat long through the library's "story hour" (they have a pretty good program, I recommend it) I asked them where they wanted to get lunch. They wanted tacos.
When I ordered and approached the Drive-Thru window with the music still blaring I wondered, "Is it pompous to pull up for fast food blasting triumphant classical music?" As in, is the middle-aged woman who makes my change going to think that I think I am better than her just because I'm listening to Beethoven? I didn't want to believe it was so, so I left the music playing. If anything, Beethoven is the one who is better than US. It truly is a plastic-fantastic society we live in where anything with any depth or sincerity is sacrificed for the sake of making money and having cool crap we don't need and can't afford anyway. It is sad that Beethoven doesn't fit into our society unless it's in the form of bad muzak ringtones for our cellphones. And those are snooty, too, aren't they?
At least Beethoven didn't sell out to the rich like so many other composers of his time. He wrote what he wanted and scraped up what he needed to pay the bills. He was a commoner. It kept him lonely throughout his life. And like so many other great minds that rise from lowly ranks, he seems to have started life hopeful as to the promise this world holds, only to have those ideas crushed in his later years and accepting that people are rotten. I can say that because I know that our every-man-for-himself society is slowly going deaf and no one will hear it anyhow.
I regret being the type of person to hear Beethoven's music performed and automatically think, "Wow, they are getting some good sound out of their synthesizers," only to have to remind myself that the sound actually IS 20 violins being played at once. Beethoven makes it easy to transition from music that is all two notes and a fat beat into real melody and harmony. Kurt Cobain may be the highest paid dead dude but does that mean he was better than Beethoven? I don't think I have to answer that. So here is to Beethoven who knows how to rock without drums. Maybe one day the people will live up to the music.
We were enjoying it, and since the girls had sat long through the library's "story hour" (they have a pretty good program, I recommend it) I asked them where they wanted to get lunch. They wanted tacos.
When I ordered and approached the Drive-Thru window with the music still blaring I wondered, "Is it pompous to pull up for fast food blasting triumphant classical music?" As in, is the middle-aged woman who makes my change going to think that I think I am better than her just because I'm listening to Beethoven? I didn't want to believe it was so, so I left the music playing. If anything, Beethoven is the one who is better than US. It truly is a plastic-fantastic society we live in where anything with any depth or sincerity is sacrificed for the sake of making money and having cool crap we don't need and can't afford anyway. It is sad that Beethoven doesn't fit into our society unless it's in the form of bad muzak ringtones for our cellphones. And those are snooty, too, aren't they?
At least Beethoven didn't sell out to the rich like so many other composers of his time. He wrote what he wanted and scraped up what he needed to pay the bills. He was a commoner. It kept him lonely throughout his life. And like so many other great minds that rise from lowly ranks, he seems to have started life hopeful as to the promise this world holds, only to have those ideas crushed in his later years and accepting that people are rotten. I can say that because I know that our every-man-for-himself society is slowly going deaf and no one will hear it anyhow.
I regret being the type of person to hear Beethoven's music performed and automatically think, "Wow, they are getting some good sound out of their synthesizers," only to have to remind myself that the sound actually IS 20 violins being played at once. Beethoven makes it easy to transition from music that is all two notes and a fat beat into real melody and harmony. Kurt Cobain may be the highest paid dead dude but does that mean he was better than Beethoven? I don't think I have to answer that. So here is to Beethoven who knows how to rock without drums. Maybe one day the people will live up to the music.
Ladies' Halloween Costumes
What do you get for $30?
Basically, you ladies get a plastic mini-skirt, a pair of fishnet stockings and your choice of barely-recognizable police hat, fireman hat, nurse's head-thingy, bunny ears, devil horns, witch hat... the possibilities are limitless.
Cheap?!?! I will have you know that this stuff was originally designed for strippers and is guaranteed for at least THREE pole-dances. Now get out there and sex it up.
Why haven't these guys been run out of town?
(The CandyCorn costume is actually $50 online. You have to buy your own broom though.)
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Key to Simple Living
Eleanor: "I think I'm going to have Emilee cut about four inches off of my hair."
Me: "Why don't you have her give you a hip haircut? I bet she knows them all."
Eleanor: "No. It's too hard to have a hip haircut. It's so much easier just to be stuck in a rut."
Me: "Why don't you have her give you a hip haircut? I bet she knows them all."
Eleanor: "No. It's too hard to have a hip haircut. It's so much easier just to be stuck in a rut."
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Shed a Little Love
Here is the shed I built the other week. Isn't it splendid?I didn't have a plan. I made it up out of my head as I went. The idea was to make as few cuts as possible. That is why it is so tall. I thought I could build it in less than two days. I almost did but then I started working again at the furniture warehouse (25 hours in two shifts, even) so it ended up taking a week. The shingles were the time consuming part. I was worried during construction because the whole thing was pretty wobbly but it came together very strong. Minnow helped me lift the plywood on to the roof and he referred to it as "The tougher than Tuff-shed." I know it was several thousand dollars cheaper than Tuffshed.
My whole life, my granpa was known for saying things like, "Oh, hah; I s'pose; and If I build it, I will walk on it." I've decided to carry on that tradition.
We have enough room in our house for regular living but not for any of the things that I like. My stuff is what clutters our living room. So I built the shed and that's where MY stuff will go. Bikes, boards, books, music stuff. It isn't insulated yet but give me time. I will also add electricity.
What you see is Phase 1. Phase 2 involves building a greenhouse on the backside. For those of you worried about appearances, I will also soon add trim to the front and finish adding a metal drip-edge around the entire roof. Once that is done it will look good and I am confident that you will all want to make out with me.
Hijacking Halloween
Community. Identity. Stability.
I see news articles saying that Halloween is quickly becoming almost as much of a spending spree as Christmas. I think it all boils down to suburbanites being bored and restless and all-too-eager to get into the holiday spirit. ANY holiday, just let us decorate and be festive! We need. We need.
I get annoyed with all of these pre-planned, over-organized Halloween get-togethers. Like where you pay a few bucks and your kids trick-or-treat in the nice warm shopping mall or expo-center at designated hours. Nobody gets dirty. Everyone gets the same amount of candy. And I especially get annoyed with the Mormon Trunk-or-Treating where mormons get together in a parking lot and let their kids do their trick-or-treating there.
It's exclusive. Non-mormon kids can't get mormon candy? We can't let our kids be spontaneous? We can't let them explore the neighborhood? We can't let them get a little chilly? Why must we spoil the whole thing with some over-formal, over-controlled micro-trick-or-treating experience.
I have candy. Come and get it from me. It's free. Knocking on strangers doors will help get you ready for your mission. We can't live in fear. Meeting people is easy.
I see news articles saying that Halloween is quickly becoming almost as much of a spending spree as Christmas. I think it all boils down to suburbanites being bored and restless and all-too-eager to get into the holiday spirit. ANY holiday, just let us decorate and be festive! We need. We need.
I get annoyed with all of these pre-planned, over-organized Halloween get-togethers. Like where you pay a few bucks and your kids trick-or-treat in the nice warm shopping mall or expo-center at designated hours. Nobody gets dirty. Everyone gets the same amount of candy. And I especially get annoyed with the Mormon Trunk-or-Treating where mormons get together in a parking lot and let their kids do their trick-or-treating there.
It's exclusive. Non-mormon kids can't get mormon candy? We can't let our kids be spontaneous? We can't let them explore the neighborhood? We can't let them get a little chilly? Why must we spoil the whole thing with some over-formal, over-controlled micro-trick-or-treating experience.
I have candy. Come and get it from me. It's free. Knocking on strangers doors will help get you ready for your mission. We can't live in fear. Meeting people is easy.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Come for the harsh conditions, stay for the smog
The urban sprawl has crept into nearly every nook and cranny of the valley around Salt Lake City. As a result, the people of this valley have decided that it would be a good idea to begin building communities ON TOP of the mountain walls.
The mountains run north and south, parallel to Interstate 15. This picture is taken from a new community called Suncrest in the southeast corner of the valley. About as far south as you can go before you reach Utah County where things REALLY get strange. Directly ahead, in this picture, you should be able to see downtown Salt Lake City. On the horizon towards the left side you should be able to see the Great Salt Lake, itself. Click the picture to enlarge it. The clouds are high and the skies are clear. This is about as good a view as you will get from this expensive new community. I guess the top of a nearby mountain is the wrong place to gaze at a lake that is visible from space. It is funny that in a valley famous for its smokestacks, people regard it as a mystery that the Great Salt Lake has some of the highest levels of mercury of any lake in the entire country. Don't eat the birds that stop here, you'll go mad as a hatter.
If you choose to live in Suncrest community then you should plan to miss a lot of work due to harsh weather, even as the weather is mild on the valley floor. Warn your children not to fall off the mountain as they play in the yard and to avoid engulfment in vast snowbanks.
Before the houses were built, we would ride our mountain bikes there. It would be hot in the valley but the wind at the top was biting cold. I'm sure environmentalists are pleased that after their efforts to block off unnecessary trails and rehabilitate Corner Canyon years ago, the final result is golf courses and million dollar homes. But look how smooth that pavement sits.
When I drove through the neighborhood, some soccer mom in a giant SUV smiled and waved at me. She seemed to have a look on her face like, "They all think we are crazy for living up here, but we know better, don't we?"
I waved back, but I didn't have the gall to put on my look of, "Speak for yourself, mama. I will send up a Saint Bernard with a cask of bourbon round his neck after every mountain storm."
The road to the community is steep and windy and wide. People seem to drive a minimum of 10 mph over the speed limit. It feels quite similar to driving through the old Sardine Canyon between Brigham City and Logan. You know? That canyon that usually reports at least one head-on collision every winter?
When do we stop calling it "progress" and start calling it "desparation?"
Monday, October 23, 2006
Drastic Park
Halloween is closer than I realized so this weekend we kicked into pagan mode. We went to the local, ever-most-sincere pumpkin patch, snapped a few pictures, and brought home some gourds that Charlie Brown would have been proud to have worn as a helmet. We don't try that hard to get perfect pictures. The kids fake horrible smiles.
Then I told the kids, "Get ready for a voyage to the wonderful land of Ogden." And then we headed for the Eccles Dinosaur Park near the mouth of their canyon. Ogden is a strange place. The city seems too small to be run down the way it is. But I actually saw a news article that said the highest incomes in Utah are in Ogden and lord knows the real estate is cheaper there. Snow Basin is also a very nice ski resort. Industrial relics are pretty common throughout the valley so the strangest thing about Ogden is the people. They were 80's before 80's was cool. They beat everyone to the punch on the Farrah Fawcett hair coming back, but I don't know if it counts when it never seems to have left. If Ogden can be looked to for what is coming next in fashion then we should all prepare for poofy hair, hat-head and stonewashed jeans.
My friend Sam is from Ogden (Actually Layton, south Ogden). He is a cool guy. I'm not sure if he is an exception to the Ogden anomoly. But come to think of it, I do remember that he left a button-up shirt with the sleeves ripped off in my car once. He was a little upset when he found out that I had been using it to wipe the fog off of my windshield during the winter, "That's my favorite shirt!" he said. And I remember one morning when we went to see our friend Jana. I forget where we decided to go but while we were walking to the car she started laughting really hard for no apparent reason. When Sam and I asked her what she was laughing at she cited Sam's outfit as the culprit. He was wearing very expensive, very technical hiking boots with worn-out blue sweatpants that had blown out ankle-elastic (they sort of looked like blue terry cloth karate pants) and he wore a red and white flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt and topped off the whole look with a winter beanie. I was used to seeing Sam dress like this but when she pointed it out I realized it WAS funny to the average person. Then again, what does Jana know? She's from IDAHO.
We took our kids to the dinosaur park around Halloween 2004. The experience took me off gaurd because the whole park was decked out for the holiday. I didn't know where to start the damage control when my then 4 year old son looked at the bloody jeans and tennis shoes hanging out of the mouths of dino sculptures. I'm sure I panicked a little and started a speech like "Ethan, you need to understand that dinosaurs disappeared 60 million years before any human being ever lived..."
It is kind of a funny idea that they have dinosaur displays where one dinosaur statue is tearing the flesh off another dinosaur statue and then you make it spooky by hanging a bloody leg out of some meat-eater's mouth. Seems like dino-business as usual to me. Here is a picture I took in 2004. They had two meat eaters roaring at eachother in a face off. For Halloween they put some bloody jeans in the mouth of one dinosaur and a torso in the mouth of the opposite dinosaur with red ropes connecting the torso to the jeans. They didn't do that display this year. This is the Torvosaurus(?) who had the jeans in his mouth. At the time, I wanted to preserve the dinosaur viewing experience so I tried to take the pictures to minimize the Halloween stuff.
This year I decided to embrace the Halloween decorations and just let my kids accept the experience for what it was. I made no attempt to explain all the plastic brains hanging from the trees.
There is one scientific theory that if humans DID exist during the age of the dinosaurs, that they surely would have used the dinorsaurs for rodeo purposes.
There is a less accepted theory that humans WERE in existence for a short time but were quickly wiped out by the dinosaurs because of man's annoying tendency to hump the legs of the giants.
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src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3413/1743/320/leghumper.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
While we were walking around the park my wife constantly complained to me that she had the Dead Milkmen song "Born to love volcanos" stuck in her head. She said, "It's especially annoying since the guy who wrote it probably didn't REALLY love volcanos." I told her that only someone who truly loved volcanos could come up with a line like "she looks like a little volcano with her red hair and brown dress."
The dinosaur park also holds answers to questions in american pop culture. Like "Was Tolkein's GOLLUM character just a rip off of a poorly sculpted deinonichus?"
"Was Lisa Simpson inspired by the footprint of a chasmosaurus?"
Overall, I have grown to like the haunted dinosaur park and make no attempt to make sense of the scenes to my kids. It's better to just go and have fun.
Then I told the kids, "Get ready for a voyage to the wonderful land of Ogden." And then we headed for the Eccles Dinosaur Park near the mouth of their canyon. Ogden is a strange place. The city seems too small to be run down the way it is. But I actually saw a news article that said the highest incomes in Utah are in Ogden and lord knows the real estate is cheaper there. Snow Basin is also a very nice ski resort. Industrial relics are pretty common throughout the valley so the strangest thing about Ogden is the people. They were 80's before 80's was cool. They beat everyone to the punch on the Farrah Fawcett hair coming back, but I don't know if it counts when it never seems to have left. If Ogden can be looked to for what is coming next in fashion then we should all prepare for poofy hair, hat-head and stonewashed jeans.
My friend Sam is from Ogden (Actually Layton, south Ogden). He is a cool guy. I'm not sure if he is an exception to the Ogden anomoly. But come to think of it, I do remember that he left a button-up shirt with the sleeves ripped off in my car once. He was a little upset when he found out that I had been using it to wipe the fog off of my windshield during the winter, "That's my favorite shirt!" he said. And I remember one morning when we went to see our friend Jana. I forget where we decided to go but while we were walking to the car she started laughting really hard for no apparent reason. When Sam and I asked her what she was laughing at she cited Sam's outfit as the culprit. He was wearing very expensive, very technical hiking boots with worn-out blue sweatpants that had blown out ankle-elastic (they sort of looked like blue terry cloth karate pants) and he wore a red and white flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt and topped off the whole look with a winter beanie. I was used to seeing Sam dress like this but when she pointed it out I realized it WAS funny to the average person. Then again, what does Jana know? She's from IDAHO.
We took our kids to the dinosaur park around Halloween 2004. The experience took me off gaurd because the whole park was decked out for the holiday. I didn't know where to start the damage control when my then 4 year old son looked at the bloody jeans and tennis shoes hanging out of the mouths of dino sculptures. I'm sure I panicked a little and started a speech like "Ethan, you need to understand that dinosaurs disappeared 60 million years before any human being ever lived..."
It is kind of a funny idea that they have dinosaur displays where one dinosaur statue is tearing the flesh off another dinosaur statue and then you make it spooky by hanging a bloody leg out of some meat-eater's mouth. Seems like dino-business as usual to me. Here is a picture I took in 2004. They had two meat eaters roaring at eachother in a face off. For Halloween they put some bloody jeans in the mouth of one dinosaur and a torso in the mouth of the opposite dinosaur with red ropes connecting the torso to the jeans. They didn't do that display this year. This is the Torvosaurus(?) who had the jeans in his mouth. At the time, I wanted to preserve the dinosaur viewing experience so I tried to take the pictures to minimize the Halloween stuff.
This year I decided to embrace the Halloween decorations and just let my kids accept the experience for what it was. I made no attempt to explain all the plastic brains hanging from the trees.
There is one scientific theory that if humans DID exist during the age of the dinosaurs, that they surely would have used the dinorsaurs for rodeo purposes.
There is a less accepted theory that humans WERE in existence for a short time but were quickly wiped out by the dinosaurs because of man's annoying tendency to hump the legs of the giants.
src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3413/1743/320/leghumper.jpg" border="0" alt="" />While we were walking around the park my wife constantly complained to me that she had the Dead Milkmen song "Born to love volcanos" stuck in her head. She said, "It's especially annoying since the guy who wrote it probably didn't REALLY love volcanos." I told her that only someone who truly loved volcanos could come up with a line like "she looks like a little volcano with her red hair and brown dress."
The dinosaur park also holds answers to questions in american pop culture. Like "Was Tolkein's GOLLUM character just a rip off of a poorly sculpted deinonichus?"
"Was Lisa Simpson inspired by the footprint of a chasmosaurus?"
Overall, I have grown to like the haunted dinosaur park and make no attempt to make sense of the scenes to my kids. It's better to just go and have fun.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Follow in Your Footsteps
Today, our daughter told us that she was eager to become a teenager and "have big feet."
Ethan took this opportunity to the inform the family that his dream is to have an opposable toe growing out of the side of each foot "like a gorilla." He finds so many flaws in the human design. No wings, no opposable toes... what does he have to look forward to? That's right. Acne.
Ethan took this opportunity to the inform the family that his dream is to have an opposable toe growing out of the side of each foot "like a gorilla." He finds so many flaws in the human design. No wings, no opposable toes... what does he have to look forward to? That's right. Acne.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
69 Shopping Days Left
We have already done a lot of our Christmas shopping for the kids. It is nice to get it out of the way but sometimes the holidays seem uneventful if you don't have to jam into the malls like cattle with the rest of the shoppers.
My wife is hard to shop for because she mostly likes to receive clothes. When I buy the clothes myself I am usually met with a response like, "I like it... or I can see what you were going for here... but NOT FOR ME." I can also never forget how my wife ripped into her mother one Christmas morning, "DARK chocolate? WHO buys DARK chocolate? Why did you buy DARK chocolate?" Then her mother had to apologize and feel bad about candy on Christmas morning. It makes me laugh.
I know that it is not fun to buy presents for me either. I ask for weird stuff like instructional DVD's on playing guitar in DADDGD or a block of ISBN numbers for books I haven't written. One year I asked for stock in "The Gap" when it was $11 per share. I didn't get it but it would have been a good investment. There is ONE THING I have been asking my wife for over the past couple of years. It probably isn't what you're thinking. I have asked her for the past two years to write and perform stand-up comedy for me. Just because I know she has the potential.
She never has, but when we were driving through a slum earlier in the summer looking for a house to buy, my wife saw a guy on the sidewalk and said, "That guy looks like he's worried about being kidnapped. He's thinking, 'Is someone going to pull up in their car and kidnap me? Wait a minute... I'm 40 years old.'" She said maybe she would put that in the comedy act I wanted her to write. So maybe someday.
My sister met me halfway one year. I went on the internet and found the exact page she needed to buy me a Direct Injection box for my guitar and sent it to her, then she bought it for me. It was nice.
Or, on the other extreme, sometimes I cause trouble by being too simple. One year all I asked for was a flashlight. I got yelled at a lot for that. Because apparently it is no fun for people to buy and give flashlights. But I got a flashlight that year and I was happy. Another year I couldn't think of anything I wanted so I just asked for DVD's. I got about 10 DVD's that year. It was kind of strange but I think gift-givers like it when you ask for gifts like that as long as you don't specify a DVD like Robotech or The Razor's Edge.
I do think that I am a good person to ask for a gift that is harder to find. I have an idea of how to use the internet and I'm not too lazy to run around town to find something that is going out of stock.
Good luck on your shopping.
My wife is hard to shop for because she mostly likes to receive clothes. When I buy the clothes myself I am usually met with a response like, "I like it... or I can see what you were going for here... but NOT FOR ME." I can also never forget how my wife ripped into her mother one Christmas morning, "DARK chocolate? WHO buys DARK chocolate? Why did you buy DARK chocolate?" Then her mother had to apologize and feel bad about candy on Christmas morning. It makes me laugh.
I know that it is not fun to buy presents for me either. I ask for weird stuff like instructional DVD's on playing guitar in DADDGD or a block of ISBN numbers for books I haven't written. One year I asked for stock in "The Gap" when it was $11 per share. I didn't get it but it would have been a good investment. There is ONE THING I have been asking my wife for over the past couple of years. It probably isn't what you're thinking. I have asked her for the past two years to write and perform stand-up comedy for me. Just because I know she has the potential.
She never has, but when we were driving through a slum earlier in the summer looking for a house to buy, my wife saw a guy on the sidewalk and said, "That guy looks like he's worried about being kidnapped. He's thinking, 'Is someone going to pull up in their car and kidnap me? Wait a minute... I'm 40 years old.'" She said maybe she would put that in the comedy act I wanted her to write. So maybe someday.
My sister met me halfway one year. I went on the internet and found the exact page she needed to buy me a Direct Injection box for my guitar and sent it to her, then she bought it for me. It was nice.
Or, on the other extreme, sometimes I cause trouble by being too simple. One year all I asked for was a flashlight. I got yelled at a lot for that. Because apparently it is no fun for people to buy and give flashlights. But I got a flashlight that year and I was happy. Another year I couldn't think of anything I wanted so I just asked for DVD's. I got about 10 DVD's that year. It was kind of strange but I think gift-givers like it when you ask for gifts like that as long as you don't specify a DVD like Robotech or The Razor's Edge.
I do think that I am a good person to ask for a gift that is harder to find. I have an idea of how to use the internet and I'm not too lazy to run around town to find something that is going out of stock.
Good luck on your shopping.
Not Retarded but still the Dregs of Society
I was telling some friends the other night that what I like best about working a job available to anyone who can lift 100 pounds is that as long as you are not completely retarded your coworkers and bosses all think you are a superstar. I've never driven a forklift fullspeed into one of the ceiling support beams nor have I dropped a refrigerator from 40 feet. The job is such that I can even be an hour late, everyday if I like, and they're all still glad that I just keep showing up. In short, I can show up and do my thing and everyone will leave me alone. That is hard to find at most jobs.
But do you know what I did that really annoys people? I bought my house. For a couple of weeks we had a couple things lined up against the house in the driveway along with a lot of empty cardboard boxes. Our house only had ONE garbage can which was already filled when we moved in. We called the city a couple of times to see if we could get another and it was weeks before it arrived. In the meantime, I took a U-haul truck filled with garbage to the dump, we had a junk car hauled off, we had a yardsale (People act like $5 is too much to ask for an original painting by Picasso and then once they finally agree to your price they try to pay you with a hundred dollar bill; we also had people steal items we would have sold for $0.25. Losers.) and we arranged our house as best we could to maximize the space we had available.
Regardless, we received a threatening form letter from the city stating we had one week to get the crap out of our driveway. They included with the letter a picture of the junk in the driveway. See, JUNK! It's right here in this picture if you failed to notice it every time you park your car! And welcome to the neighborhood, scumbag!
Don't worry about it. I built an awesome shed. I will post pictures of it as soon as I find our camera (or buy a new one). The junk is moved. And just in time. They said they would charge us $30 per day until it was gone.
A couple of weeks after we moved in I received a postcard from our (homeowners-) insurance company. It said 'thank you, blah, blah, blah' and had a handwritten sentence that said, "I need to talk to you about one of the trees on your property."
Of course, I've been too busy to get around to calling the guy about said tree and today I received a letter from the insurance company stating that my policy with them will soon be canceled due to the issue with the tree. I called the insurance rep for more information:
Me: "Hello, I'm calling because I just received a letter stating that you would be canceling my insurance policy because of a tree in my yard."
Rep: "Yeah, and...?"
I wanted to swear at the guy but I didn't, "AND, I wanted to know what I could do to keep the policy from being canceled." Happy now, dork? Big surprise, he doesn't know what I need to do. He needs to call some people and then he says he will call me and tell me. Why do I get the feeling he will be treating me like the girl he took on one date who mistakenly let it slip that she had an STD? I'm sure he'll be calling any time now.
On that note, here are some other examples of stellar customer service I have recently experienced:
Eddie Bauer---
"Can I help you find something today?"
"I was looking for a SWEATER for my wife. I talked her into giving her old ones to charity and now she doesn't have anything warm for winter."
"I see. I'd like to show you these LONG SLEEVED SHIRTS right here. They just came in."
When was the last time you BUNDLED UP in a long sleeve shirt?
Lowes---
"I see that you have this board in 10 ft lengths. Do you have it in 8 ft?"
"Uh, I don't know anything about the wood. The guy who does just left."
Well, it's great that you are sitting HERE, in the woods section, giving the APPEARANCE of help. Have you ever walked down these aisles before? Have you ever wondered about the stuff you're supposed to be selling? What kind of glue did you use to glue your butt to the chair? THAT seems to be working.
Credit Card---
I received a phone call telling me a credit card payment was 30 days overdue. I told them I never received the bill and updated them with my new address. I paid by phone and the lady told me I was paid through November. A few days later I received a bill in the mail but the payment due was about $50 more than what I'd paid by phone. I called them again:
"I paid by phone a few days ago but the statement I received in the mail is asking for $50 more. Do I need to pay the difference?"
"Yes, you do."
"Why did the last person I spoke to tell me I was paid through November?"
"I don't know."
Should I bother to ask what would have happened if I hadn't called again to straighten things out?
I'm not perfect but it's too bad we can't all be un-completely-retarded superstars.
But do you know what I did that really annoys people? I bought my house. For a couple of weeks we had a couple things lined up against the house in the driveway along with a lot of empty cardboard boxes. Our house only had ONE garbage can which was already filled when we moved in. We called the city a couple of times to see if we could get another and it was weeks before it arrived. In the meantime, I took a U-haul truck filled with garbage to the dump, we had a junk car hauled off, we had a yardsale (People act like $5 is too much to ask for an original painting by Picasso and then once they finally agree to your price they try to pay you with a hundred dollar bill; we also had people steal items we would have sold for $0.25. Losers.) and we arranged our house as best we could to maximize the space we had available.
Regardless, we received a threatening form letter from the city stating we had one week to get the crap out of our driveway. They included with the letter a picture of the junk in the driveway. See, JUNK! It's right here in this picture if you failed to notice it every time you park your car! And welcome to the neighborhood, scumbag!
Don't worry about it. I built an awesome shed. I will post pictures of it as soon as I find our camera (or buy a new one). The junk is moved. And just in time. They said they would charge us $30 per day until it was gone.
A couple of weeks after we moved in I received a postcard from our (homeowners-) insurance company. It said 'thank you, blah, blah, blah' and had a handwritten sentence that said, "I need to talk to you about one of the trees on your property."
Of course, I've been too busy to get around to calling the guy about said tree and today I received a letter from the insurance company stating that my policy with them will soon be canceled due to the issue with the tree. I called the insurance rep for more information:
Me: "Hello, I'm calling because I just received a letter stating that you would be canceling my insurance policy because of a tree in my yard."
Rep: "Yeah, and...?"
I wanted to swear at the guy but I didn't, "AND, I wanted to know what I could do to keep the policy from being canceled." Happy now, dork? Big surprise, he doesn't know what I need to do. He needs to call some people and then he says he will call me and tell me. Why do I get the feeling he will be treating me like the girl he took on one date who mistakenly let it slip that she had an STD? I'm sure he'll be calling any time now.
On that note, here are some other examples of stellar customer service I have recently experienced:
Eddie Bauer---
"Can I help you find something today?"
"I was looking for a SWEATER for my wife. I talked her into giving her old ones to charity and now she doesn't have anything warm for winter."
"I see. I'd like to show you these LONG SLEEVED SHIRTS right here. They just came in."
When was the last time you BUNDLED UP in a long sleeve shirt?
Lowes---
"I see that you have this board in 10 ft lengths. Do you have it in 8 ft?"
"Uh, I don't know anything about the wood. The guy who does just left."
Well, it's great that you are sitting HERE, in the woods section, giving the APPEARANCE of help. Have you ever walked down these aisles before? Have you ever wondered about the stuff you're supposed to be selling? What kind of glue did you use to glue your butt to the chair? THAT seems to be working.
Credit Card---
I received a phone call telling me a credit card payment was 30 days overdue. I told them I never received the bill and updated them with my new address. I paid by phone and the lady told me I was paid through November. A few days later I received a bill in the mail but the payment due was about $50 more than what I'd paid by phone. I called them again:
"I paid by phone a few days ago but the statement I received in the mail is asking for $50 more. Do I need to pay the difference?"
"Yes, you do."
"Why did the last person I spoke to tell me I was paid through November?"
"I don't know."
Should I bother to ask what would have happened if I hadn't called again to straighten things out?
I'm not perfect but it's too bad we can't all be un-completely-retarded superstars.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Singing My Way to the Top
The other night we hopped in the car and the dumb song on the radio inspired me to sing out with gusto:
Everee thiiing... is gonna be alright. Roooock-a-bye. Rock-a-BYE.
ROCK-A-BYE!
Eleanor looked at me. I knew she was preparing a review of my singing. She said, "When you sing, you sound like...
(Wait for it)
... Spongebob. You know. When he sings rock music and gets all into it."
I actually don't consider that to be an insult. Spongebob is a top-notch entertainer. He can belt things out: "The Krusty Krab Pizza, is the pizza, for you and me! I'm a Goofy Goober!"
Barnacles.
Everee thiiing... is gonna be alright. Roooock-a-bye. Rock-a-BYE.
ROCK-A-BYE!
Eleanor looked at me. I knew she was preparing a review of my singing. She said, "When you sing, you sound like...
(Wait for it)
... Spongebob. You know. When he sings rock music and gets all into it."
I actually don't consider that to be an insult. Spongebob is a top-notch entertainer. He can belt things out: "The Krusty Krab Pizza, is the pizza, for you and me! I'm a Goofy Goober!"
Barnacles.
Memo for Music Execs
We need a new music movement. I know grunge was written off as noise but there was a lot more to it than Kurt Cobain having a breakdown. There was a lot of range between Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains. Most of all, these guys weren't out to create an image. Showing up for an interview in an ugly prom dress and homemade t-shirts was testament of that. Flannel shirts are just how people dress in Seattle. That was all heaven compared to today's music.
All of those bands: Fallout Boy, Yellowcard, Jimmy Eat World, All American Rejects are white noise. They are what make the radio dial a wasteland. It is obvious that there is a "sound" that is IN and being force fed to the public. If you took all the best songs from these clone bands you would end up with ONE good album. I am tired of seeing bands led by style-consultants and people who fake singing by talking. In a Deep Voice. Tell me. How. Does it Feel. ?. I'm talking about you Killers, Panic!At the disco and you other deep talkers.
I'm even disappointed in Thom York from Radiohead. Letely, Keane does a better job of sounding like Radiohead than Radiohead. Why do you need to do a solo album, Thom? With guest appearances by who? The rest of Radiohead? The way I see it you are just jipping the world out of the important talent offered by the rest of your band. Am I right, Gwen Stefani? Hey Fergie, I like getting retarded more than I like going down like London Bridge. And stop stealing Mary J. Blige beats and style. It is probably your producer's fault. Nelly Furtado. It's all the same.
I think it should be required of all music executives to read Jello Biafra's "Chickenshit Conformist" lyrics EVERY MONTH. The guy can't sing but he makes a good point and pulls all aspects of life into the music. That is how life works:
Punk's not dead
It just deserves to die
When it becomes another stale cartoon
A close-minded, self-centered social club
Ideas don't matter
It's who you know
If the music's gotten boring
It's because of the people who want everyone to sound the same
Who drive the bright people out of our so-called scene
Till all that's left is just a meaningless fad
Hardcore formulas are dogshit
Change and caring are what's real
Is this a state of mind
Or just another label
The joy and hope of an alternative
Have become its own cliche
A hairstyle's not a lifestyle
Imagine Sid Vicious at 35
Who needs a scene
Scared to love and to feel
Judging everythng
By loud fast rules appeal
Who played last night?
"I don't know, I forgot.
But diving off the stage Was a lot of fun."
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
Make the same old mistakes
Again and again,
Chickenshit conformist like your parents
What's ripped us apart even more than drugs
Are the thieves and the goddamn liars
Flipping people off when they share their stuff
When someone falls are there any friends?
Harder core than thou for a year or two
Then it's time to get a real job
Others stay home; it's no fun to go out
When the gigs are wrecked by gangs and thugs
When the thugs form bands, look who gets record deals
From New York metal labels looking to scam
Who sign the most racist queer-bashing bands they can find
To make a buck revving kids up for war
Walk tall, act small
Only as tough as gang approval
Unity is bullshit
When it's under someone's fat boot
Where's the common cause
Too many factions
Safely sulk in their shells
Agree with us on everything
Or we won't help with anything
That kind of attitude
Just makes a split grow wider
Guess who's laughing while the world explodes
When we're all crybabies
Who fight best among ourselves
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
That farty old rock and roll attitude's back
"It's competition, man, we wanna break big."
Who needs friends when the money's good
That's right, the '70s are back.
Cock-rock metal's like a bad laxative
It just don't move me, ya know?
The music's OK when there's more ideas than solos
Do we rally need the attitude too?
Shedding thin skin too quickly
As a fan it disappoints me
Same old stupid sexist lyrics
Or is Satan all you can think of?
Crossover is just another word
For lack of ideas
Maybe what we need
Are more trolls under the bridge
Will the metalheads finally learn something-
Or will the punks throw away their education?
No one's ever the best
Once they believe their own press
"Maturing" don't mean rehashing
Mistakes of the past
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
The more things change
The more they stay the same
We can't grow
When we won't criticize ourselves
The '60s weren't all failure
It's the '70s that stunk
As the clock ticks we dig the same hole
Music scenes ain't real life
They won't get rid of the bomb
Won't eliminate rape
Or bring down the banks
Any kind of real change
Takes more time and work
Than changing channels on a TV set
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
Chickenshit conformist like your parents!
All of those bands: Fallout Boy, Yellowcard, Jimmy Eat World, All American Rejects are white noise. They are what make the radio dial a wasteland. It is obvious that there is a "sound" that is IN and being force fed to the public. If you took all the best songs from these clone bands you would end up with ONE good album. I am tired of seeing bands led by style-consultants and people who fake singing by talking. In a Deep Voice. Tell me. How. Does it Feel. ?. I'm talking about you Killers, Panic!At the disco and you other deep talkers.
I'm even disappointed in Thom York from Radiohead. Letely, Keane does a better job of sounding like Radiohead than Radiohead. Why do you need to do a solo album, Thom? With guest appearances by who? The rest of Radiohead? The way I see it you are just jipping the world out of the important talent offered by the rest of your band. Am I right, Gwen Stefani? Hey Fergie, I like getting retarded more than I like going down like London Bridge. And stop stealing Mary J. Blige beats and style. It is probably your producer's fault. Nelly Furtado. It's all the same.
I think it should be required of all music executives to read Jello Biafra's "Chickenshit Conformist" lyrics EVERY MONTH. The guy can't sing but he makes a good point and pulls all aspects of life into the music. That is how life works:
Punk's not dead
It just deserves to die
When it becomes another stale cartoon
A close-minded, self-centered social club
Ideas don't matter
It's who you know
If the music's gotten boring
It's because of the people who want everyone to sound the same
Who drive the bright people out of our so-called scene
Till all that's left is just a meaningless fad
Hardcore formulas are dogshit
Change and caring are what's real
Is this a state of mind
Or just another label
The joy and hope of an alternative
Have become its own cliche
A hairstyle's not a lifestyle
Imagine Sid Vicious at 35
Who needs a scene
Scared to love and to feel
Judging everythng
By loud fast rules appeal
Who played last night?
"I don't know, I forgot.
But diving off the stage Was a lot of fun."
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
Make the same old mistakes
Again and again,
Chickenshit conformist like your parents
What's ripped us apart even more than drugs
Are the thieves and the goddamn liars
Flipping people off when they share their stuff
When someone falls are there any friends?
Harder core than thou for a year or two
Then it's time to get a real job
Others stay home; it's no fun to go out
When the gigs are wrecked by gangs and thugs
When the thugs form bands, look who gets record deals
From New York metal labels looking to scam
Who sign the most racist queer-bashing bands they can find
To make a buck revving kids up for war
Walk tall, act small
Only as tough as gang approval
Unity is bullshit
When it's under someone's fat boot
Where's the common cause
Too many factions
Safely sulk in their shells
Agree with us on everything
Or we won't help with anything
That kind of attitude
Just makes a split grow wider
Guess who's laughing while the world explodes
When we're all crybabies
Who fight best among ourselves
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
That farty old rock and roll attitude's back
"It's competition, man, we wanna break big."
Who needs friends when the money's good
That's right, the '70s are back.
Cock-rock metal's like a bad laxative
It just don't move me, ya know?
The music's OK when there's more ideas than solos
Do we rally need the attitude too?
Shedding thin skin too quickly
As a fan it disappoints me
Same old stupid sexist lyrics
Or is Satan all you can think of?
Crossover is just another word
For lack of ideas
Maybe what we need
Are more trolls under the bridge
Will the metalheads finally learn something-
Or will the punks throw away their education?
No one's ever the best
Once they believe their own press
"Maturing" don't mean rehashing
Mistakes of the past
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
The more things change
The more they stay the same
We can't grow
When we won't criticize ourselves
The '60s weren't all failure
It's the '70s that stunk
As the clock ticks we dig the same hole
Music scenes ain't real life
They won't get rid of the bomb
Won't eliminate rape
Or bring down the banks
Any kind of real change
Takes more time and work
Than changing channels on a TV set
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
Chickenshit conformist like your parents!
Monday, October 16, 2006
Conversations I wouldn't expect to have with a six year old or any others
Me: "Why did you do that?"
Ethan: "The ghost inside of me did it."
Me: "The ghost inside of you? Do you mean your soul?"
Ethan: Nods.
Me: "YOU ARE the ghost inside of you. Knock it off."
Ethan: "The ghost inside of me did it."
Me: "The ghost inside of you? Do you mean your soul?"
Ethan: Nods.
Me: "YOU ARE the ghost inside of you. Knock it off."
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Tragic: Instant Winner In Waiting
I have been neglecting the blog and now this stuff is building up. I have several characters to add to this wonderful game. Today's installment is "The Instant Winner In Waiting." He is that guy at work who is all hung up on winning the lottery. He can't believe that anyone would not give him their hard-earned dollars so he can take it on his monthly trip to Idaho to buy those glorious tickets.
Can you picture it. You and your co-workers huddled at a podium on CNN talking about how you have 11 freckles on your nose and how there are 9 people in your family (counting the pet fish) and on and on until you couldn't even open your eyes without those winning numbers bombarding you and bombarding you? The Instant Winner can picture that. He dreams about it every night. He has already decided what to buy and where to travel, now he need only do one more thing: WIN.
Hey! You're not getting paid to daydream, Instant Winner In Waiting! Get that dolly moving! Load those trucks!
The Instant Winner actually holds a lot of sway with people because he talks about what all people like to talk about: What are we going to do with all of that money once it is given to us? We're in it to win it.
The saddest part of all is that I have so many bouts of outragously BAD luck that a small voice tells me I'm due for something like a lottery win. Either that or cancer.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Transcending by Bike
I gave the kids advice about bike racing today:
Anyone who wins all the time is a coward because he is too scared to give anyone else a fair chance.
Please keep that in mind during YOUR next bike race, strange internet people.
Anyone who wins all the time is a coward because he is too scared to give anyone else a fair chance.
Please keep that in mind during YOUR next bike race, strange internet people.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Tragic: Invizo-kid
I should be on the payroll at my son's elementary school. I break up fights like these at least a couple times a week and I'm only there for about five minutes per day before the teacher allows my first grader into his classroom.
The backpack seems to be the weapon of choice, but it isn't uncommon for a board with a nail in it to make it's way onto the playground. I am astounded at how many parents will look the other way as children are mauled by bullies an arm's length away. I try to intervene in as many scuffles as I can but it is tough with a baby and two little girls in tow.
But the school is on lock-down until the teachers open the classroom doors. One day we were late so I told my nephew to run in through the front door to get to class faster. They stopped him and told him to get outside with the rest of the rabble. Would it kill the school system to provide a playground monitor?
Until then, Invizo-kid is just screwed. See you at the next school shooting.
I'm also surprised that there are at least ten guys that tend the yard around the school and yet there has been a broken beer bottle on the sidewalk (inches from the grass) since the first day of school. I also think some smoker across the street from the school leaves cigarettes on the ground for the kiddies. I usually stomp them to pieces as I walk by in the mornings.
Get involved parents. The odds are already against them.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Letter From the Family Dog
Dear Emmett,
In answer to your question, it's alright for a dawg to call a dawg a dawg but that doesn't mean dawgs like people to call them dawgs. Especially if they say it like dog, ya know?
I'm sorry about all of the poop. I poop a lot. And I step in it when I walk around. And smear it around. There was a time in my life when I worried about the mess like you do. I tried to be a neat freak. You must trust me, though: My life is so much better since I just stopped caring.
It makes me feel proud when you tell people that I am nice and that I get along with everyone. But that pride makes me feel like I owe you an explanation regarding all the barking I do at the mailman. I just REALLY don't like that person. Really.
Oh, man. Do you ever get an itch that makes you want to gnaw your leg down to the bone? I've got that right now.
Anytime you want to go for a walk or play a game of tug-of-war just let me know. And, um, I'm not sorry about the poop. I just said that to be polite.
Your faithful companion,
Chloe
In answer to your question, it's alright for a dawg to call a dawg a dawg but that doesn't mean dawgs like people to call them dawgs. Especially if they say it like dog, ya know?
I'm sorry about all of the poop. I poop a lot. And I step in it when I walk around. And smear it around. There was a time in my life when I worried about the mess like you do. I tried to be a neat freak. You must trust me, though: My life is so much better since I just stopped caring.
It makes me feel proud when you tell people that I am nice and that I get along with everyone. But that pride makes me feel like I owe you an explanation regarding all the barking I do at the mailman. I just REALLY don't like that person. Really.
Oh, man. Do you ever get an itch that makes you want to gnaw your leg down to the bone? I've got that right now.
Anytime you want to go for a walk or play a game of tug-of-war just let me know. And, um, I'm not sorry about the poop. I just said that to be polite.
Your faithful companion,
Chloe
Monday, October 09, 2006
Dead Reckoning
I'm busy as always. I've had a lot of things to write about but now it's Columbus Day so now I will have to flick my acid tongue at that instead.
Does Christopher Columbus deserve a holiday? If, by "holiday," you mean "a swift kick in the kiwis," then I say ABSOLUTELY. Google is known for adding graphics to their homepage to mark events dear to us all and yet there is nothing there about Columbus. I'm sure they do it to avoid bickering but I don't need some snooty search engine telling me when to keep my trap shut. Here we go:
One lofty argument as to why Columbus need not be celebrated is... HE DID NOT DISCOVER AMERICA.
I do not consider myself an overly-sensitive person but I do get annoyed at key moments like when I was visiting my sister in Jacksonville, Florida and we voyaged to the fort at St. Augustine. The highway signs said, "St. Augustine. The first (or oldest) city in America." It wasn't just any sign. It was one of those official green highway signs.
As an "Indian" of North America I know that this statement of St. Augustine just isn't true. But let's move on. Even if we accept that THINGS DONE BY BROWN PEOPLE DON'T COUNT and that people living on the North American continent for 13,000 years doesn't count for anything... there is still the matter of that thousand-year-old man, Leif Ericson. Today is actually Leif Ericson Day as well as Columbus Day but who will celebrate that? A viking who does nothing but enjoy the weather and eat grapes? There is no marketability there.
But I think a name like VIKING DAY would be more appropriate than Columbus Day. The idea of murderous plunderers gives a more straight forward idea of what the DISCOVERY of America was all about.
I know that people calling themselves "Capitalists" or some other retarded name will defend the holiday tooth and nail because they like the go-getter business attitude of Columbus's achievements and they think of all Indians as blood-drinking cavemen who are all better off dead. It would be an injustice NOT to take the land they live on, destroy their means of feeding themselves and give them all those diseases. IT'S TIME TO MAKE THIS CONTINENT "CIVILIZED."
When Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were doing a long study of the Iroquois Indians to borrow all those radical "new" ideas in democracy for the Declaration of Independence they were writing, they invited their friend Tom Paine to come along. After many visits with the Indians Tom Paine noticed the tribes had no equivalent of the impoverished bums lying in the gutters like whites had in all of their cities and made this comment:
"Civilization, or that which is so called, has operated in two ways: to make one part of society more affluent, and the other more wretched, than would ever have been the lot of either in a natural state."
Jefferson said, "I am convinced that those societies [as the Indians] which live without government enjoy in their general mass an infinitely greater degree of happiness than those who live under European governments."
Which is not to say that any of these political figures did anything to prevent the future mistreatment of Indians in North America. They wrote the Declaration of Independence BEFORE the Revolutionary War was fought. I believe they used pathos wording just in case they lost. Maybe they wouldn't hang for fighting against the crown if their cause was noble enough. There is something underlying the Declaration of Independence that suggests their message was, "We are English but the people of England are treating us the way WE treat our African slaves and we just can't stand for that." They may have omitted "From one white guy to another white guy..." (These truths, self evident, all men created equal). Jefferson died poor. When he died he released SOME of his slaves. The ones he is rumored to have fathered.
Now back to Columbus:
Spain was locked out of the best trade routes around Africa. Columbus was bad at geography and the stars were mysterious petroglyphs to him, but he promised that he could circumscribe the globe for faster access to those wonderful spices. They didn't want to be stuck drowning everything in Tobasco, afterall. He took a big, fat cargo boat as his flagship, Santa Maria. Probably not the best choice for exploration, but things never got to the point where the crew had to eat eachother or anything. When he reached America, it was kind of like today, in that there was nothing readily available in America to trade with other nations. First he thought, GOLD! There must be gold around here and Spaniards love gold. But he couldn't find it. Next he looked at the "Indians" and thought SLAVES! but that must not have worked out either and, much like today, America ended up importing their slaves.
Stupid history. Why do you always have to suck. Why can't you be flattering and wonderful with tales of one true blue hero after another? Okay, let's forget the history. We will all say this dude "discovered" America. We'll wave some flags. We'll teach our kids the names of the boats like one day they will need to know them to get their lockers open or something and everyone will have a good time with chips and soda and all that.
It is a holiday. That means I have to work extra hours this week.
Does Christopher Columbus deserve a holiday? If, by "holiday," you mean "a swift kick in the kiwis," then I say ABSOLUTELY. Google is known for adding graphics to their homepage to mark events dear to us all and yet there is nothing there about Columbus. I'm sure they do it to avoid bickering but I don't need some snooty search engine telling me when to keep my trap shut. Here we go:
One lofty argument as to why Columbus need not be celebrated is... HE DID NOT DISCOVER AMERICA.
I do not consider myself an overly-sensitive person but I do get annoyed at key moments like when I was visiting my sister in Jacksonville, Florida and we voyaged to the fort at St. Augustine. The highway signs said, "St. Augustine. The first (or oldest) city in America." It wasn't just any sign. It was one of those official green highway signs.
As an "Indian" of North America I know that this statement of St. Augustine just isn't true. But let's move on. Even if we accept that THINGS DONE BY BROWN PEOPLE DON'T COUNT and that people living on the North American continent for 13,000 years doesn't count for anything... there is still the matter of that thousand-year-old man, Leif Ericson. Today is actually Leif Ericson Day as well as Columbus Day but who will celebrate that? A viking who does nothing but enjoy the weather and eat grapes? There is no marketability there.
But I think a name like VIKING DAY would be more appropriate than Columbus Day. The idea of murderous plunderers gives a more straight forward idea of what the DISCOVERY of America was all about.
I know that people calling themselves "Capitalists" or some other retarded name will defend the holiday tooth and nail because they like the go-getter business attitude of Columbus's achievements and they think of all Indians as blood-drinking cavemen who are all better off dead. It would be an injustice NOT to take the land they live on, destroy their means of feeding themselves and give them all those diseases. IT'S TIME TO MAKE THIS CONTINENT "CIVILIZED."
When Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were doing a long study of the Iroquois Indians to borrow all those radical "new" ideas in democracy for the Declaration of Independence they were writing, they invited their friend Tom Paine to come along. After many visits with the Indians Tom Paine noticed the tribes had no equivalent of the impoverished bums lying in the gutters like whites had in all of their cities and made this comment:
"Civilization, or that which is so called, has operated in two ways: to make one part of society more affluent, and the other more wretched, than would ever have been the lot of either in a natural state."
Jefferson said, "I am convinced that those societies [as the Indians] which live without government enjoy in their general mass an infinitely greater degree of happiness than those who live under European governments."
Which is not to say that any of these political figures did anything to prevent the future mistreatment of Indians in North America. They wrote the Declaration of Independence BEFORE the Revolutionary War was fought. I believe they used pathos wording just in case they lost. Maybe they wouldn't hang for fighting against the crown if their cause was noble enough. There is something underlying the Declaration of Independence that suggests their message was, "We are English but the people of England are treating us the way WE treat our African slaves and we just can't stand for that." They may have omitted "From one white guy to another white guy..." (These truths, self evident, all men created equal). Jefferson died poor. When he died he released SOME of his slaves. The ones he is rumored to have fathered.
Now back to Columbus:
Spain was locked out of the best trade routes around Africa. Columbus was bad at geography and the stars were mysterious petroglyphs to him, but he promised that he could circumscribe the globe for faster access to those wonderful spices. They didn't want to be stuck drowning everything in Tobasco, afterall. He took a big, fat cargo boat as his flagship, Santa Maria. Probably not the best choice for exploration, but things never got to the point where the crew had to eat eachother or anything. When he reached America, it was kind of like today, in that there was nothing readily available in America to trade with other nations. First he thought, GOLD! There must be gold around here and Spaniards love gold. But he couldn't find it. Next he looked at the "Indians" and thought SLAVES! but that must not have worked out either and, much like today, America ended up importing their slaves.
Stupid history. Why do you always have to suck. Why can't you be flattering and wonderful with tales of one true blue hero after another? Okay, let's forget the history. We will all say this dude "discovered" America. We'll wave some flags. We'll teach our kids the names of the boats like one day they will need to know them to get their lockers open or something and everyone will have a good time with chips and soda and all that.
It is a holiday. That means I have to work extra hours this week.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Motherf***ing Work
You don't have to move fast or give a rat's ass
the living freakshow helps the time pass
People need California Kings and plasma screens
To you it's crap but they're somebody's dreams
Throw it where it goes, drop it from the top rack
if the glass is broken they can bring it back
Don't lose any sleep when the boss calls you Dumbshit
grab a sharpie, draw a penis, where ever it may fit
They don't pay you enough that you give a lick damn
Nothing has changed...
Chad still wants to jam.
I'm back moving furniture at the forklift job now.
the living freakshow helps the time pass
People need California Kings and plasma screens
To you it's crap but they're somebody's dreams
Throw it where it goes, drop it from the top rack
if the glass is broken they can bring it back
Don't lose any sleep when the boss calls you Dumbshit
grab a sharpie, draw a penis, where ever it may fit
They don't pay you enough that you give a lick damn
Nothing has changed...
Chad still wants to jam.
I'm back moving furniture at the forklift job now.
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