Lies, Fibs, Canards and Falsehoods

The Slippery Slope of Gay Marriage is REAL!

2009-08-25T15:33:00.003-05:00

One argument used frequently in the battle against gay marriage is The Slippery Slope. If we allow two adults of the same sex who love each other get married, what might be next? What horrifying reality will be foisted upon us if this twisted perversion occurs?

It's a fair point, really. And history has shown that the Slippery Slope is a very real phenomenon.

In 1776, voting was limited to white, property-owning men who were not Jews, Catholics or Quakers (a few other limitations as well). As non-property-owning-white-men wanted to vote, The Conservatives wondered, "What next - will Catholics and Jews want to vote as well?"

In 1828, Maryland allowed Jews to vote. The Conservatives wondered, "What next - will African-Americans want to be allowed to be free citizens?"

As Emancipation neared in the 1850's and 1860's, African-Americans wanted to be freed from slavery. In opposition to the Civil Rights Act of 1866 (granting citizenship to native-born Americans), The Conservatives cried, "If blacks are free, they'll want to vote!"

Fighting the passage of the 15th Amendment to the United States Constitution, The Conservatives were in a tizzy: "If we allow black men to vote, pretty soon women will want to vote, too!"

As Suffragists worked tirelessly to allow women to vote, The Conservatives were in an uproar, "If they can vote, they might want equal jobs and equal pay!"

With women entering the workplace, a social revolution was underway. Suddenly African-Americans, who were free and had a technical right to vote, actually wanted to utilize that right. As the Civil Rights movement of the 1960's was gaining steam, The Conservatives were concerned, "If African-Americans get full equality, pretty soon they'll want to marry white people!"

In 1967, after the Supreme Court ended all race-based restrictions on marriage, The Conservatives were frightened, "What next, will the gays want to marry?"

Homosexuals do want the right to be married. More than likely, they will get that right, despite the cries of "Slippery Slope!" from The Conservatives. And you know what? Out there in America are more groups of people who feel disenfranchised. They are hoping that gay marriage will pass, that change will come for one group, because they want their chance. Maybe freedom for one can eventually mean freedom for all.

It is a Slippery Slope. Our country has slid form a land where white, land-owning Protestants had full and total control, to a country where nearly all citizens have the right to pursue their happiness. As the horrors of the realized Slippery Slope unfolded, more Americans gained rights and freedoms. The Slippery Slope has created a country with more equality for more people.

Maybe the Slippery Slope isn't such a bad thing, after all.

Mix and Match

2009-06-24T12:18:00.001-05:00

SC gov resurfaces after mystery trip to Argentina
AP - 1 hour, 29 minutes ago

COLUMBIA, S.C. - Gov. Mark Sanford told a newspaper he was in Argentina, not hiking the Appalachian Trail as his staff had told the public to explain his sudden absence. He said he "wanted to do something exotic" to unwind after losing a fight over federal stimulus money.

A snippet of conversation

2009-06-19T09:57:00.002-05:00

[scene: Milena and Eli are outside, helmets on, scooters in hand.]

Eli: My mom and dad are rich.
Milena: [sadly] My mom and dad are poor.
Eli: [reaches into pocket, pretends to hand Milena money] Here's some money.
Milena: [happily] Thanks!
Eli: Now you are rich!

[Eli and Milena hop on scooters and scoot around the driveway.]

Worst. Billboard. Ever.

2009-06-18T09:18:00.002-05:00

I drove by a billboard like this frequently while in Washington (this isn't my picture - I stole it from somebody), and couldn't help thinking that this message is wrong on so many levels.

First of all, how the heck would more babies stimulate the economy? Are we supposed to use them to feed the hungry? Fuel our vehicles? Call me a cynic, but don't unwanted babies frequently end up as a drain on the economy?

It got me to thinking - if God really wanted to stimulate the economy, wouldn't a more effective approach be to randomly kill 50 or 60 million people? Sure, there would be widespread confusion and chaos for a bit, but it would really allow us to streamline businesses and government (shedding dead weight, as the case would be).

And lastly, if this really was God's approach to stimulate the economy, would they really be dropped down from heaven in convenient four-packs? While it is likely more cost-effective, it seems uncomfortable for the babies, and a bit of a burden on whomever gets the delivery. You'd think God would have thought it through better.

Mix and Match

2009-05-29T15:23:00.000-05:00

Openly gay teen voted prom queen at LA high school AP - Thu May 28, 11:23 PM ETSent 962 times
LOS ANGELES - An openly gay teen has been voted prom queen at his Los Angeles high school in a campaign that began as a stunt but ended up spurring discussion on the campus about gender roles and popularity.

Nice. Real nice.

2009-04-22T09:29:00.002-05:00

I saw this photo on a friend's Facebook page. I almost slammed my head into the monitor.

There are so many reasons to be disgusted by this photo, yet people think it's cool. I had to refrain from calling them all ignorant racists.

Yes, by all means, let's compare the worst aspect of one of the worst natural disasters in our nation's history with the best aspect of a typical (albeit record) flood. Perfectly fair.

Can't people just be proud of the work they did, instead of having to turn it into racist propaganda?

Brilliant

2009-03-27T09:07:00.002-05:00

I just finished Nick Harkaway's debut novel, The Gone-Away World. Absolutely, positively loved it. Make a combination of Tom Robbins, Terry Pratchett, and maybe Mad Max ... no that's not quite right. Or maybe it is. Doesn't matter.

It was funny, bizarre, engrossing and highly entertaining. Scooter - put this book on your to-read list and let me know what you think. Larry - stop reading work-related books and try this. You'll probably hate me for recommending it to you, but that's what I'm here for.

This blog isn't dead! Wow!

2009-02-23T08:43:00.002-06:00

I can think of no place better to report one of the most significant and important things I've read. Possibly ever. New York Knickerbocker forward Wilson Chandler recorded an NBA first. Yes, he did something spectacular and singular which has never been done before in the long, storied history of the NBA:

Wilson Chandler, who scored 32 points in the Knicks' rout of the Raptors on Friday, was held to two points in 24 minutes in the Raptors' victory on Sunday. It was the first time in NBA history that a player scored as few as two points in 15 minutes or more of playing time in the second game of a home-and-home series after scoring at least 30 points in the previous game.

I had always dreamed that a Timberwolf would set that record. Damnitallanyway.

Mix and Match

2009-02-04T11:33:00.000-06:00

Cheney warns of new attacks

Politico - Wed Feb 4, 5:56 AM ET Former Vice President Dick Cheney warned that there is a “high probability” that terrorists will attempt a catastrophic nuclear or biological attack in coming years, and said he fears the Obama administration’s policies will make it more likely the attempt will succeed.

No investigation needed

2008-09-23T16:26:00.001-05:00

I think the NTSB can quite easily arrive at the cause of this plane crash, judging by the two news items CNN.com has right next to each other:

WSB: Small plane crashes in Atlanta front yard
iReport.com: Many Atlanta gas stations empty

The Question of the Day

2008-09-01T12:40:00.002-05:00

Is Sarah Palin a bad VP candidate, or is she the worst VP candidate ever?

Now, I fully admit that I am not the target demographic they were going after with her selection, however, some things strike me as odd:

The McCain camp has taken their ability to attack Obama's inexperience off the table. How do you criticize Obama for being under qualified when your Veep has 20 months experience running Alaska, and a frequent qualification given for her leadership skills is that she was point guard on her high school basketball team?
If Obama picked a young VP candidate, he could get away with it. But I'm a bit troubled when a 72 year old with cancer in his background selects somebody grossly unqualified to be his running mate.
I know that people handle personal issues in different ways, but I can tell you that if I had a four month old with Downs syndrome, and my 17 year old high school senior daughter was pregnant and planning on marrying the baby's father ... well, I imagine that I'd be a little distracted. So are they saying that she doesn't care about her family and it doesn't matter, or that she won't do anything as VP and it doesn't matter?

It just doesn't seem like a good pick to me.

Floral Derangement: A Rock Phillips Adventure

2008-08-03T20:28:00.001-05:00

Rock Phillips unlocked the back door of Phillips' Phlowers and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. His graceful movements belied his linebacker physique as he slowly moved towards the office. Turning on lights as he moved through his establishment, Rock noted every detail, preserving them forever with his photographic memory.

Rock advanced to the front of the store and carefully flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Open”. He had gone no more than four steps when suddenly the door opened, accompanied by the jingling of a tiny bell. Rock continued to move away from the door, but his hand went instantly to his back pocket. Without turning, he pulled out an order pad, and spoke to the person walking through the door. “Hello, Vivian. It's been a long time.”

“You haven't lost your touch, Rock,” Vivian DeLaroche purred as she carefully closed the door behind her. She was beautiful, to be sure, but Rock knew from past experiences that her mind was to be admired even more. As Europe's finest nuclear physicist and the world's leading expert on Islamic Fundamentalist terrorist groups, she was sought after by every government.

Rock just wished that he could trust her.

Turning to face her, he examined the woman in his store. Dark hair framed her face, casting shadows on her smooth features. Before he spoke he noticed a slight tightening in her eyes; she was already hiding something from him.

“I never thought I'd see you again, Vivian.”

Rock's eyes found Vivian's, and they faced each other, a thousand unspoken words traveling through their glance. Vivian broke the spell, turning to face out the shop's tinted window. “I need you. I didn't know where else to go.” She sighed, and looked back at him, “I need to get out of the country, without anybody knowing.”

Rock turned and walked behind the counter, straightening his award from the Chamber of Commerce with a deft touch as he passed. “I can't help you, unless you need a floral arrangement. I'm running a special on tulips this week.”

“Please, Rock, I know that this is just a cover. If you don't want to help me because of...” she paused, looking down at her patent leather shoes. Finding some source of resolve, she looked back at Rock with iron in her gaze. “I know that I hurt you in Madrid, but that couldn't be helped. You have to understand that now. The fate of the world was at stake!”

Rock's gaze didn't waver. His eyes remained focused on Vivian's, even as his right hand moved to pick up a pen from the counter. “I just got in a lovely shipment of daisies. They might be just what you need.” His words were even and smooth, and nothing in what he said betrayed the pain in his heart.

“Rock, please. Help me.”

But Rock knew that he couldn't help her. He had quit his post as leader of Team Super Delta, had returned his badge and his gun, and had opened up a flower shop. While some would say that a man with PhD's from Yale, Princeton and Harvard should be doing more with his life, he was happy with flowers.

They never shot back.

Rock pulled out a catalog and carefully flipped to a page. “If you want to tell somebody you're sorry, this bouquet is just the thing. I deliver to local addresses for only $4.99.”

Vivian held his gaze for another moment, searching for some sign that his resolve would weaken, but he was stronger than her. With a soundless shudder she turned back to the door. “Good bye, Rock. I'm sorry that I bothered you.” She exited the store gracefully, followed by the jingling of the door bell.

Rock slowly exhaled, lowering his gaze to the counter top. He allowed his hands to relax, and didn't bother to try and stop their shaking. Letting her go was the hardest thing he had ever done. But it was necessary, if he was going to be able to give up his old life and stay in the flower business. He was done with the past, and would never go back to it.

The ticking bomb in his safe, however, was about to provide a very dramatic counter argument.

Mix and Match

2008-07-14T08:07:00.001-05:00

Jolie gives birth to twins, a girl and a boy
AP - Sun Jul 13, 5:18 PM ET

Mix and Match

2008-04-03T22:24:00.001-05:00

Ancient feces indicates earlier American origins

By Maggie Fox, Health and Science Editor Thu Apr 3, 2:08 PM ET

Damn you, Mean Mr. Mustard!

2008-01-30T17:27:00.000-06:00

Even though he was not tagged, Mean Mr. Mustard memed. And then he tagged me. So, even though Maya Angelou claims that the meme must not be unbroken, it was. I think.

Anyhoo.

A) Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. Pizza Delivery Boy
2. Sandwich Maker
3. Factory Worker
4. Kept Man

B) Four movies I would watch over and over
1. "Lord of the Rings" trilogy
2. Shaun of the Dead
3. Batman Begins
4. Anything with Carrot Top

C) Four places I have lived:
1. North St. Peter, MN
2. South St. Peter, MN
3. On the Hill St. Peter, MN
4. Athens, Greece

Four TV Shows that I watch:
1. American Idol (Tuesday)
2. American Idol (Wednesday)
3. American Idol (Thursday)
4. Saturday Night Live

E) Four places I have been:
1. Rome
2. London
3. Madrid
4. Paris
(I liked MMM's list, so I'm keeping it.)

F) People who email me (somewhat frequently):
1. Scooter
2. Ming
3. Larry (though he's slacking lately) (of course, so am I)
4. Tall Brad (ditto)

G) Four of my favorite foods:
1. Stir-fry made by Michelle
2. Pasta made by Michelle
3. Eggs made by Michelle
4. Caramel Corn

H) Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Four feet to the right.
2. Three feet to the left.
3. Ten feet down.
4. New Zealand

I) Things I am looking forward to this year:
1. Mastering Dance Dance Revolution on my WII
2. Being able to go outside
3. Going to Germany and Italy
4. Michelle making me food

OK, that sucked. Anyway, I'll tag Annie, the Big Tree and Wil Wheaton (since we're really tight).

Yippee!

2007-12-18T18:26:00.000-06:00

Good news from Middle Earth.

Noooooooooooo!

2007-12-12T14:05:00.000-06:00

Shit.

Good, Clean Fun

2007-12-05T08:50:00.001-06:00

Can you guess which person doesn't find this picture hilarious?

(Hint: He only has one hand!)

Three Years Later...

2007-11-23T12:25:00.000-06:00

John Kerry finally grows a pair.

Would have been nice to see this side of Kerry when it actually would have mattered.

Not Politics

2007-11-16T12:32:00.000-06:00

Just go play at FreeRice.com, expand your vocabulary and help address world hunger.

Sometimes I believe that the man was put on this earth only to vex me

2007-11-16T11:02:00.000-06:00

I mean, how else could you explain this video? Sorry, Mr. President, you're absolutely correct. I certainly can't think of a single error that has been made. Nope, not one.

Now, I always thought that if there was a Republican president, at the very least we could enjoy some sort of fiscal responsibility. At least, that's how they try and spin it, when, for example, President Bush accuses Congress of going on a "spending spree."

Really? Pots and kettles, maybe? Just look at this graph:

It looks like the only President that has been able to slow the growth of the Federal Debt is that rascally liberal, President Clinton. After Bush took office, it seems like the debt took a good dose of Viagra.

OK, I can handle this. Only 430 more days of being vexed.

I don't know if this is accurate or not

2007-11-15T14:29:00.001-06:00

And I don't really care. I just think it's funny:

What did we do to deserve this President?

2007-11-02T08:58:00.001-05:00

Man, he's annoying.

At a talk before the Heritage Foundation, Bush likened Congress to those who ignored Lenin and Hitler, and warned that they should spend more time listening to terrorists than MoveOn.org.

There are so many ways to go with this.

Bush on Hitler:

In the 1920s, the world ignored the words of Hitler, as he explained his intention to build an Aryan super-state in Germany, take revenge on Europe, and eradicate the Jews — and the world paid a terrible price.

When he's talking about people ignoring Hitler, does he mean people like his own grandfather?

Wait, that is a tenuous connection, and doesn't really have anything to do with Bush himself, so maybe we should go a different route: Hitler rose to power by solidifying power in the executive branch, while continually nudging the German constitution out of the way until it became meaningless. Gee, who do we know who acts like that?

Bush on bin Laden:

When it comes to funding our troops, some in Washington should spend more time responding to the warnings of terrorists like Osama bin Laden and the requests of our commanders on the ground and less time responding to the demands of MoveOn.org bloggers and Code Pink protesters.

We should spend more time worrying about bin Laden, huh? So, which video will make your stomach churn more, this one, or this one?

Is there anything that Bush does that doesn't reek of irony?

Addendum: I watched the Kerry/Bush video again, and it made me wonder: How many people who voted in 2004 actually voted for a candidate? How many people were actually energized by the candidate themselves? I would guess that most people who voted were either voting for their party, or against the guy they disliked the most. Please, somebody with more life experience than I have tell me when there was a Presidential election with two less likable candidates.

Something Horrible

2007-10-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

While looking at the search phrases used to find my other blog, I found a curious one: "milena -velba"

So, I wondered, why would somebody want to search on the name "milena", but explicitly not want to find any sites that also have the name "velba"? Could it be that bad?

Well, the answer is frightening. Please don't click on this link.

Memeorific!

2007-10-30T08:13:00.000-05:00

Mean Mr. Mustard tagged me. That was nice of him.

1. Name one person who made you laugh last night.
James McAvoy - nobody has ever milked the old getting-hung-in-the-air-suspended-by-meat-hooks-piercing-your-body gag for more laughs. A rare genius.

2. What were you doing at 0800?
Searching for pictures of James McAvoy being tortured.

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Eating French Toast.

4. What happened to you in 2006?
According to my other blog, I had a chair fixed.

5. What was the last thing you said out loud?
"Kelson, get back here! I asked for a Killian's, not a Schell's Dark!"

6. How many beverages did you have today?
Milk, coffee, one Killian's Red, one Schell's Dark. Four

7. What color is your hairbrush?
I think it's blue.

8. What was the last thing you paid for?
My last purchase was at Target yesterday. The last thing put in the cart was extra long matches. I'm wild that way.

9. Where were you last night?
At home.

10. What color is your front door?
Wood-colored gray.

11. Where do you keep your change?
Above the refrigerator.

12. What’s the weather like today?
It's creeping towards 50 degrees now, and should top off at 70. Which means that I will be forced to bring the kids outside to play.

13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor?
Chunky Monkey. Just because.

14. What excites you?
Memes.

15. Do you want to cut your hair?
Always.

16. Are you over the age of 25?
Duh.

17. Do you talk a lot?
No.

18. Have you watched any television series, regularly, to which you be ashamed to admit your regular viewership? What was your favorite episode?
CSI:Miami. I loved the episode where Horatio tilted his head, and in a very touching and heartfelt manner told the child/young boy/distraught young woman that "You're safe now."/"Nobody will hurt you again."/"I won't let that happen."

19. Do you know anyone named Steven?
When I was a junior in high school, our basketball team was able to have five Steve's on the court at a time. Does that make me cool?

20. Do you make up your own words?
Frequently. For example, I just told Kelson that I was having a "meme-tastic" time.

21. Are you a jealous person?
Why? Should I be? What are you telling me? Is there something I should know? Michelle!!!!

22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’.
Arthur. (wait, was it supposed to be a friend of mine?)

23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’.
Kevin.

24. Who’s the first person on your received call list?
That's the cell phone thing, right? Probably a wrong number.

25. What does the last text message you received say?
I actually got a text message from my brother with a picture of his newest baby. And I even knew how to look at it, because I'm techno-savvy.

26. Do you chew on your straw?
If I know what you mean?

27. Do you have curly hair?
Pervert.

28. Where’s the next place you’re going to?
Grocery store. Whoopee.

29. Who’s the rudest person in your life?
Me. I'm a bastard.

30. What was the last thing you ate?
French Toast. (Or, as I first typed it with my right hand in the wrong place: "Frebcg Tiast")

31. Will you get married in the future?
I sure as hell hope not.

32. What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past 2 weeks?
Last King of Scotland. Just last night.

33. Is there anyone you like right now?
As a general rule, I hate people. But there are some exceptions. Just to cover my bases, I'll say this: "I like you."

34. When was the last time you did the dishes?
Stop. You're killing me.

35. Are you currently depressed?
I'm getting closer.

36. Did you cry today?
OK, now I'm depressed.

37. Why did you answer and post this?
Because I'm depressed.

38. Tag 5 people who would do this survey.
The only person I know who blogs and visits my blog (and hasn't done this already) is BiggTree, so I'll pointlessly tag him. I'll tag Michelle, too, since she doesn't have a blog but can read her answers out loud to the poodles.

AND, feel free to change out one of these questions for anything else you want to ask and answer.

More People To Kill

2007-10-18T09:29:00.000-05:00

In an unsurprising move, President Bush appointed somebody opposed to contraception to head a Health and Human Services post responsible for overseeing the nations contraception programs. The only way to reconcile his senseless opposition to birth control with his indifference to the number of people killed in Iraq is that he is worried that he might run out of people to kill.

Got to keep supply up, ya know!

Funny

2007-10-08T08:44:00.000-05:00

What a comment stream would look like in a meeting. (Some vulgarity)

Worthless Post

2007-10-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted anything in a while, so I will just put up this worthless link that you probably don't want to click on.

Fortunate One

2007-09-18T17:51:00.000-05:00

We had Chinese tonight. It was yummy. The best part, of course, is the delicious fortune cookies that you get with the meal. I highly recommend W & F Fortune Cookies. My fortune was incredibly poignant:

Art misunderstanding by calm, poise and balance.

Eli's was just disturbing:

Behind an able man, there are always other able men.

Mark me down for not wanting to be able!

Nobel Prize, here I come!

2007-09-03T21:48:00.000-05:00

I have just made what will certainly become one of the greatest scientific/theological breakthroughs of our time. And, lucky for you, I am willing to share this.

We humans have, in our noses, a vomeronasal organ (commonly referred to as the Jacobson's Organ). Unfortunately for us, it either does very little or nothing at all. However, in many mammals, it is used to detect pheromones, chemical messengers that carry information between individuals of the same species.

Now, humans were created in God's image. This means that God also has a Jacobson's Organ. And, since God is perfect, this means that His works.

If God is perfect, then nothing that He has would be useless, which means that His Jacobson Organ has to be put to use. And what does He do with it? He detects pheromones from other individuals of the same species.

Ah ha! This tells us, clearly and without any question, that there are other gods! I have proven that we live in a polytheistic universe! All hail God and his ... friends? (Hey, I am only claiming to discover that there are more gods, I'm not the expert on identifying who they are or how they are related to God.)

Anyway, I think this proof is pretty simple, but to dumb it down even more, check this out:

Humans have a Jacobson's Organ.
Humans were created in God's image, which means that He has a Jacobson's Organ.
God is perfect, so His Jacobson's Organ functions.
The Jacobson's Organ detects pheromones from individuals of the same species.
God is a member of a species which has more individuals.
There are more Gods.
QED.

I don't know if they offer a Nobel Prize in Theology, but I should get one. (Plus, I went to the best Swedish immigrant founded college in the world, so I should get points for that!)

Since I am an honest guy, I should warn you that you should try and buddy up to me now. Once this theory hits the big time and I become a world famous celebrity, I'm going to dump all my old friends and find newer, cooler ones. Sorry, that's just the way I roll.

So, try and poke a hole in this theory if you can. I have thought about it for many minutes, and am certain that it is as solid as any theological argument I've ever seen. All my research is solid, and the conclusion is incontrovertible. I'm positive that you now see the world in a significantly different way then you did ten minutes ago. It might be difficult to adjust to this new world we are in, but follow my lead, be strong, and we'll get through it together.

Well, not together - I'll be getting through it with my newer, cooler friends.

Thieves! Crooks! Charlatans!

2007-08-24T11:04:00.000-05:00

I hate it when people pilfer my work, as some hack AP photographer named Sherrie Peif has done. Haven't I established conclusively that people looking fondly at deer is my area of expertise? I at least should have been credited.

Life is so unfair.

Eye opening

2007-08-21T08:17:00.000-05:00

I sure am glad that CNN.com bumped this column by some doofus named Roland Martin to their front page. It's not written particularly well, has no new ideas, is self-congratulatory, builds straw men, and isn't worth the pixels that display it.

Obviously I have no good reasons for determining what gets put on this crappy blog.

Completely Random Post

2007-08-18T20:01:00.000-05:00

For some bizarre reason I had a flashback recently, of a Minnesota Twins player who had a long hitting streak to start his career, and then got hurt and had his season end early. I couldn't remember who it was, but knew it was in the past couple of years. So I went to the only place I ever go to find useless baseball statistics, baseball-reference.com.

After some looking, I found the page for Glenn Williams. Called up in June of 2005, he played thirteen games for the Twins, getting a hit in each one. Then he was hurt, and hasn't returned to the majors yet (he's playing for the Twins AAA club).

If you check out his career game log, you'll see that he is a career .425 hitter, and has a hit in every single major league game he's played. Has any baseball player ever had to fight their way through the minor league system just to get the opportunity to continue a hit streak?

Oh wait, he's Australian. That explains everything.

YouTube is great

2007-08-11T17:40:00.001-05:00

Love it

2007-07-04T17:33:00.000-05:00

Al Gore III was busted for driving 100 mph and having illegal substances in his car. The great part about the story though? He was driving a Prius.

At least he isn't going to make dad look bad on that count.

Speaking of politics

2007-07-04T08:32:00.000-05:00

And people who make you sick.

I love Warren Buffett

2007-07-04T08:25:00.000-05:00

A rich man who knows his place in the world.

“The 400 of us [here] pay a lower part of our income in taxes than our receptionists do, or our cleaning ladies, for that matter. If you’re in the luckiest 1 per cent of humanity, you owe it to the rest of humanity to think about the other 99 per cent.”

He is a Democrat because Republicans are more likely to think: “I’m making $80 million a year – God must have intended me to have a lower tax rate.”

Wouldn't it be cool to have a political party that you're actually proud to be a part of, instead of trying to figure out which group of people you despise the least?

Anyway, the full article about Buffett is here.

Now, this is important

2007-06-28T22:16:00.001-05:00

$4475.00

Thank you, thank you very little...

2007-06-21T14:07:00.000-05:00

We just got a brilliant thank you card. The son of one of my wife's co-workers is getting married, and we sent them a wedding gift. Not wanting to seem cheap, we gave them a pretty nice gift - one of those new-fangled digital picture frames. A nifty little thing.

It was in an odd shaped package, so we needed to find a box the right size. After much searching, we found an old box, wrapped up the gift, and sent it off.

Today we get the thank you card from them:

"Thank you for the unique excercise equipment. We'll need it after our long vacation."

Huh? Wait a second... the box we used to package the gift was from something we bought a couple of years ago, a VersaDisc balance training tool.

Great. They're thinking that we bought them some cheap, bizarre exercise thing, and are probably carelessly tossing around a box that contains some electronic equipment. They most likely unwrapped the present, saw the box, and thought "What cheapskates!"

The strange thing is that everybody knows that you give a VersaDisc to a mother at a baby shower, to help her get rid of that extra baby fat. She should have known that it isn't appropriate for a wedding.

Sigh.

Some things are important to know

2007-06-05T09:27:00.001-05:00

For example, one Tom Cruise is equal to the weight of 45.36 chickens.

More weird conversions here.

It makes me both happy and proud

2007-05-29T14:20:00.000-05:00

to know that somebody Googled "erotic harry potter ginny weasly" and found my blog. Specifically, my review of The Half-Blood Prince.

I'm actually second on the results list for that search. The key to that, of course, is misspelling "Weasley."

It's Friday, so I give you this

2007-05-25T11:59:00.000-05:00

Top Ten Ways to Destroy the Earth

You don't get too many surprises these days

2007-05-24T17:46:00.000-05:00

However, the level to which people will sink to avoid responsibility can provide a shock. The father of John Hancock (the St. Louis Cardinals pitcher who recently died in a car accident) is suing those who are truly responsible for John's death. That list includes the tow truck driver and the person whose car stalled.

Let's see, should the blame rest with the person who was drunk, speeding, not buckled, had marijuana in his car and was talking on a cell phone, or a tow truck driver who took an exorbitant amount of time to get a stalled car off the road.

(Oh yeah, an "exorbitant amount of time" is somewhere between seven and fifteen minutes.)

How pathetic.

Good news!

2007-05-04T11:28:00.000-05:00

According to Salary.com, a typical stay-at-home mother would earn over $138,000 for her work (if she was actually paid). Factoring in the standard wage increase for being male, that means that Michelle owes me almost $160,000.

I'm not sure if I should tell her now, or bank up the money for a few years first.

If I still had a blog

2007-05-03T17:12:00.000-05:00

I'd probably post something snarky about this.

Google is Cool

2007-04-13T11:56:00.000-05:00

Look at step number 23 on Google Maps' directions on getting from New York, NY to Paris, France.

It made me smile.

(not as much as Firefly, but still...)

Huh

2007-04-11T07:29:00.001-05:00

If Neil Gaiman can get a movie made, why not Chris Moore?

I love Gmail

2007-04-02T09:20:00.000-05:00

I especially love the context sensitive ads.

Prediction

2007-02-19T09:45:00.000-06:00

Since it is intuitively obvious to the most casual observer that I am the greatest future-teller (I don't like to go by "soothsayer", as it sounds too similar to "sleuth-slayer", and I would hate to be considered a new-age Dr. Moriarty) in the modern world, I shall once again astonish and amaze you with a prediction. Set your alarms to mid-February, 2008, at which point you will be able to marvel at the accuracy of this claim:

When Paolo Nutini does not win Best New Artist at the 2008 Grammy Awards, I will be outraged. Outraged!

Your Next President of the United States of America!

2007-02-15T10:27:00.000-06:00

I'm sure you've seen this by now, but it's always good for another view.

Christmas Came Early

2007-02-05T18:53:00.000-06:00

I was in my local library picking up a book for Michelle (Pilgrim, by Sara Douglass), and just happened to see this staring at me:

I have been out of the Christopher Moore loop for a while, so I didn't even realize he had a new book out. It's one thing to get a book you've been waiting for, but it's something quite different to have the perfect book magically appear out of thin air.

And it was, of course, delightful.

It was one bright spot in my otherwise dreary, pitiful, horrid existence.

Corner Diner

2007-02-01T10:04:00.000-06:00

Here's a happy tale I wrote. It probably has some kind of deep metaphysical, spiritual or scatological meaning. Let me know what it is.

Corner Diner

The door shuts with a bang as a Jerry Craznic enters my diner from the Fourth Street entrance. A rush of cold air follows him in, rustling the top pages of the newspapers beside the door. He flips shut his cell phone and pockets it as he takes his normal booth by the old jukebox. I can't help but smile. He's a bright, strong, good looking guy. I get lots of business men and women, impatient and demanding, but Jerry is always calm and relaxed.

“How's your kid, Judy?” he asks me. He always asks me that.

“Conner's fine. He's doing really well.”

It's a lie, of course. Conner isn't doing well at all. The chemo has destroyed lots of things – his hair, his appetite, the little savings I had – but the tumor is still healthy.

“What can I get you, Jerry?” I ask, coming over to his table. I place a white paper placemat in front of him, and place the silverware, wrapped in a napkin, on top. I take out my order pad, but don't bother with a pen, since I never need to write the orders down. Not even sure why I hold the pad anymore.

“Just some dessert tonight. How about a slice of apple pie and a cup of decaf.”

I nod to him and head behind the counter. Get a mug, pour the coffee. Get a plate, uncover the pie tin, dish the pie. How many times have I served pie and coffee on a late night?

I bring the plate and cup over. “Here you go, Jer.” He gives me one of his smiles, his eyes looking right into mine. For a second I imagine a different life – Jerry taking care of us, maybe at a resort somewhere with a beach next to some clear blue water. Conner digging in the sand while Jerry and I lay on beach towels, hand in hand. Conner and I could use that. Heck, we deserve that.

Yeah, right. People don't get what they deserve. Life doesn't work that way.

I sigh and turn away. The customer at Table 5 gets up and begins to put on his coat. “Thanks a lot,” he says, “Keep the change.” He's a large man. No, let's be honest - he's a fat man, maybe two hundred and fifty pounds. Probably pushing forty, slightly balding. Wearing a fading blue jacket that was once expensive and new. He starts walking quickly towards the door.

Meat loaf meal, glass of Coke, slice of pie, cup of coffee. The bill was eleven fifty. “Keep the change” probably means he left thirteen bucks. If I'm really lucky all he had was a five and a ten, that would get me a three and a half dollar tip. Sometimes fat guys tip well after pie. Must do something to their brains.

I cross over to his table, nodding to the man as we pass. “Have a nice night.” He looks straight ahead and struggles with the zipper on his jacket as he walks to the door. The cash is under the ticket, it looks like two bills, and there's a five on top. A smile comes to my face as I reach towards the table, but the smile disappears when I realize the second bill is a one. Six bucks! He stiffed me! I turn around, looking for him, just as the door slams shut.

______________________________________________________

Rush out the door and take a left out of the diner. Jog down the street and turn left onto Sixth Avenue, shove my hands into pockets and hunch my shoulders, trying to keep the cold night air from my neck.

What did I just do? I've never stolen anything in my life. She's just a waitress, but at least she's got a job. She can afford it more than I can. Hell, it's not like I didn't leave her anything.

“Hey! Where'd you go?” I hear a woman's shout faintly. I huddle against a doorway, looking down the street, but nobody comes. She's not coming after me. How did it get this way? Stealing meat loaf from a diner? I had it. I had it – good job, nice house, kids, money. Now look at me.

It's that damn Simmons. I'll never forget the look on his face when he let me know they were laying me off. He knew it wasn't fair, but he always had it in for me. He was sitting in his office, wearing one of his stupid turtlenecks under one of his stupid sports coats.

“Scott is taking classes to get his Master's degree, and Brad picked up on the new technologies really quickly,” he said. Suck ups. If I had kissed ass like those two did, I'd still be there. I might not have gone to as many training courses, and I didn't come in as early or stay as late as they did, but I worked hard.

And then he says I could come back, but with less pay as a second shift maintenance technician. Second shift! How was I ever going to see my kids if I was working evenings?

Damn it. Tonight was Lexi's dance recital. Margie said that if I forgot again she wouldn't let me know when Lexi or Tyler have events. Shit! That damn Simmons! He put all this stress on me, and now I'm forgetting my kids.

Margie's going to try and take my weekends away, too. She always wants to make me look bad to the kids. I've got to find a job. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be my day. And once things are back on track for me, I'll go back to that diner and give the waitress a big tip.

I start walking again. I'll find some flowers for Lexi, bring them to her tomorrow. I'll tell her how sorry I am. Buy her ice cream or something. I think she likes ice cream. She's got to like ice cream. What kid doesn't?

The street is quiet, empty. The shops are closed, and the only light comes from a street lamp across the street. The lamp on my side is burned out, and I hug the wall, trying to stay in the shadows.

Suddenly I feel a body up against me, pushing me into a dark doorway.

“Just give me your money. Now. Hurry up!”

I'm being mugged? What is there to take? “Listen, I don't have any money. I'm broke. Please leave me alone.”

He's got my back pushed against a wall, one hand on my chest. He's not a big guy, but he's strong. I can't tell what he looks like in the darkness. He pushes my chest hard, I catch my breath. “I ain't in the mood for no shit, Fatty. Give me your damn money!”

Oh, God. I'm not built for this. I've never been in a fight in my life. This guy is going to kill me. My eyes close. “Please. Please. Please.” Warmth runs down my left leg.

The pressure is removed from my chest. I take a deep breath and open my eyes. The man is still there but he's backed up a step. I begin to thank him, but he speaks before I can say anything. “You're pathetic, you fat fuck.”

I see him reach back, and his fist crashes into my face.

______________________________________________________

His nose cracks. Damn, it's a nice sound. I dance back, ready to avoid the counter attack which is never going to come. The pussy has both hands on his face, whimpering, blood running between his fingers and onto the back of his hands. Too fucking easy. I place one final right hook at his temple, and he drops. Flops down like a beached whale waiting to die.

I rummage through his pockets until I find his wallet. Twenty bucks in cash, pictures of some ugly kids, and an expired AAA card. What kind of moron doesn't carry a single freakin' credit card? I kick him in the side. Next time carry plastic.

I keep looking. He's got no watch, and nothin' of value in his pockets. There's a reason I've never mugged a guy before – it ain't worth the aggravation. I slip the cash in my pocket and head down the street. Twenty bucks sure as hell ain't gonna square me with Crowbar.

I take a left onto Fifth Street and flip open my cell. Speed dial 4.

“Stevie, it's Bug. Give me some good news. How we doin'?”

“Sorry, Bug, but it's not good. The whole shipment was junk. You're going to have to try and get your money back from Wang.”

I stop. This ain't good. “Shit. You know that can't happen. What we gonna do? We need the money now! Where you at?”

“I'm gone, man. You borrowed from Crowbar. He's going to be looking for you. I don't want to be anywhere near when he finds you. Good luck, man.”

“Stevie, wait! At least get me a ride out of town! Stevie!”

He hung up. He's gone. The bastard is ditching me. I need three thousand dollars right now, and I've got no angles. I'm gonna have to rob a bank or something. Ain't never done that, either. Shit.

I continue down the street. Man, I need a miracle.

“Hello, Bug.”

Oh, fuck. He's right behind me. How the hell did he find me here? OK, just play it cool.

“Hey man. I was just coming to see you.” I turn around to face him.

“I bet. I'm sure you're loaded with cash right now. I'm sure you've got my three large. I'm sure you beat up that fat guy just for fun.”

I look at his face and shudder. Crowbar is one ugly bastard. One of his eyes is dead, pea soup green and seeping pus out of the inner corner. A ragged scar runs from his left ear to his mouth, and his nose has been broken numerous times. He's a scary fucker, even when he's not carrying a crowbar.

“Listen, Crowbar, I'm a bit short right now, but in two days I'll be able to pay you. Hell, I've got a buyer coming in tomorrow – a big sucker. I'll be able to pay you back then.”

“Somehow, I just don't believe you, Bug.” He's got his crowbar in his right hand. He's holding it lightly, like he's not even thinking about it. Just swinging it back and forth. Back and forth. I can't take my eyes off of it. “I think you're gonna have to pay up right now.”

I knew this day would come, and I'm ready for it. I've practiced at home, I've played it out a hundred times. When he moves his arm, I'm going to duck and roll to the right. There's a boot knife on my right leg, bought for this exact moment. It's stainless steel and double bladed, sharp as hell. In one motion I'm going to pull the knife from its sheath, leap towards Crowbar and extend my arm. I'll stick the big bastard right in the gut before he even realizes that he missed me.

Good bye, Crowbar. Hello, Boot Knife.

His fingers tense, his arm begins to rise and I make my move. Dive to the right and roll. It's not as smooth as I would have hoped, but he didn't hit me. I reach down to my boot, but I can't get the knife. Shit! My pants leg is over the sheath. I fumble at the denim, trying to raise my jeans to get at the knife. I look up.

Crowbar has his arm raised over his head, and he's looking down at me. He's smiling. He didn't miss, he hasn't even tried to hit me yet. This is not good.

“Good bye, Bug.”

The crowbar comes down in a blur.

______________________________________________________

My crowbar cracks Bug's skull with a small splatter of blood and the sound of splintering bone. One swing and it's over. I look down at Bug's limp body. Squished Bug. That's pretty funny.

Yeah, these are the times I live for. The simple times. Just me, a crowbar, and some loser who thought he could rip me off. I still remember my first – Johnny Z, the crack dealer. He tried to stiff me, right in front of my buddies. We had just finished working at McGarvey's place, demolishing their old garage, and ran into Johnny Z in the alley behind George's Pub.

“You're going to have to wait a week,” he told me, “I'm out right now. Unless you want some blow.” He straightened the collar on his fancy silver suit, wiped off some imaginary lint.

“I gave you fifty bucks yesterday, and you said you'd have some for me today! You owe me, now!” I was pissed.

“Fuck off, man,” Johnny Z said to me. To me. I looked down to my toolbox, and saw the handle of the crowbar rising above the screwdrivers, tape measure and wood handled hammer, almost begging me to pick it up. I grabbed it, swung it hard and fast, and smashed it right into Johnny Z's face. One shot, down he went. Blood all over his suit. There were maybe twenty people standing there, but nobody said a damn thing while I took his stash and his cash. Instant respect.

Bug might have been able to pay me back in a couple of days, but I don't care. I'll get five payments this week after word gets out. It's like a goddamn TV commercial.

There's not much in Bug's pockets. Two hundred bucks, two fake Rolex watches, an ounce or so of smack. I open up the baggie, lick a finger and scoop out some of the powder. Sniff it, taste it. Low grade, probably mixed with baking soda. Worth maybe twenty bucks, but only to a junkie.

I pocket the baggie and walk down the street. I'm revved up now, I need something more. I take a left onto Fifth Avenue, and see the entrance to the corner diner at the end of the street. Yeah, that'll do it. Finish the day off with some extra cash.

I reach behind me and pull my revolver out from my jeans. Not as good as a crowbar, but sometimes a piece does the job. Gun in my left hand, crowbar in my right, I push open the door and enter the brightly lit diner. I rap my crowbar against the closing door and raise my gun to the ceiling. “Everybody shut up and stand still! Don't move! You! In the back! Get out here!” I point my gun at the cook in the kitchen, he puts his hands up quickly and comes out, shuffling sideways. Always making sure his hands are in plain view. I point to a booth with the barrel of my gun, and he takes his seat, like a trained dog.

“All right, wallets, watches and jewelry on the tables. You,” I point my crowbar at the waitress, “get behind the counter and open up the till.”

There are only three customers, an old couple and a young guy. A pretty boy. Looks like he spends time in a gym. Spoiled rich kid, probably thinks he can be a hero. If he makes one move he's going to get his head cracked.

The waitress slowly goes behind the counter to the cash register. She puts her head in her hands.

“No.” Good. The bitch better be scared.

“Just do what I say, sweetie.”

I hear something by the jukebox. Beep of a cell phone. Is Pretty Boy trying to call the police?

“Don't get fucking cute!” I stalk over to Pretty Boy, lifting the crowbar. He cowers back into his seat, tosses his cell phone onto the table. Probably noticed the blood dripping off the end of the crowbar. Knows that I ain't here to piss around. “Stay right there and you just might live.” I love saying shit like that, like I'm in a mobster movie.

I hear a click to my left and turn to see the waitress, the pretty little thing, with a gun pointed right at me. Where the fuck did she get that? For a split second I notice her eyes, not scared, but hard as steel. Dammit. I fucked this one up.

My eyes focus on the barrel of the gun. It's a shitty place to be, staring at the bullet hole of a .38 Special while your piece is pointing at the ground. Maybe she'll try something cute, give me some speech, try to be a hero.

But she doesn't.

I see the flash from the gun, and I know that I've only got one hope – that the bitch misses. But that ain't gonna happen. I was looking square down the middle of the gun, and that girl's shot a piece before. I've got a fraction of a second to live, and not a damn thing I can do to save myself. I can't move in time.

The gun starts to lift up and I see the smoke begin to rise out of the barrel. I know the smell, the feel, the taste of it, even though it hasn't reached me yet.

I can't see the bullet, but I can see the shimmer of air that the bullet passes through. From my dead center perspective it's a halo, and everything behind the halo is a wavy blur. The damn thing is a true shot. The only thing I don't know is if it will get me in my right or left eye, or right in between. Closed casket for sure.

Another slice of time passes and I can't see for shit. Everything is stars and rainbows and blackness, all in different places and overlapping each other at the same time. Kinda pretty, if it wasn't going to kill me.

The sound reaches me a split instant before the bullet does. I knew it would end this way, but I didn't expect it to come from a pretty waitress. Life's a fucking mystery.

My world ends as I hear the bang of the gun.

Klund's Meme Meme

2007-01-24T10:01:00.000-06:00

This meme needs to be done.

1. Memes have been called "crack for bloggers" - why do you agree with this statement?

2. Which is more gay - writing a meme or answering a meme?

3. In what way is this the best meme you have ever answered?

4. Scooter said he never made out in a movie theater, while Mean Mr. Mustard is a fan of Sam Shepard. Which one of them is the biggest loser?

5. I've only been tagged once to do a meme. Does this mean I'm very lucky, have no friends, or both?

6. If you were stuck on a deserted island, which three memes would you want to have with you?

7. Why is question number 7 always the best question in a meme?

8. If you could answer a meme about any topic, which topic would it be?

9. Which would you rather answer - a meme about homosexual giraffes or one about dryer lint?

10. Does your answer to question number 9 mean that you are A) a homophobe, or B) a lintphobe?

11. How happy are you that this meme is done now?

Naturally, I tag Scooter and Mean Mr. Mustard, since they're the only people I know who blog.

Flash Fiction IV

2007-01-12T11:45:00.000-06:00

OK, here's the last of my flash fiction pieces. This one was a bit rushed, since I had to miss the class because of play rehearsals. But I did email it to the prof so it could be included. The assignment this time was to write a confession. I think. Something like that. Anyway, this is what I came up with.

Omnipology

I'm sorry. It's my fault. All of it.

I'll take the blame for the whole thing. You got a complaint? I'm the cause. Poor grades? I could've made you smarter. Acne? That was a bad idea. Mosquitoes? Annoying little bastards. Black Plague? What, I couldn't have killed a few rats? Genocide in Rwanda? Messed that one up.

But do you know what my main mistake was? Free will. Stupidest damn thing I did, handing that out. I tell you, if there was no free will then this world would run as smoothly as a baby's bare butt. Honestly, I can not believe some of the choices that you people make. Did you know that in the United States alone there are 23 people who have partially eaten human bodies in their refrigerators? I know everything and I didn't see that one coming.

What do you expect, though, perfection? People think that just because a guy's omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent (and let me tell you, that's a hell of a lot of “omni's”) that he's not supposed to make any mistakes. Well, you know what? Everybody screws up at some point. It's just that when I do it, it's on a slightly larger scale. You miscalculate your checking account balance, take out too much money, and get a twenty dollar overcharge fee. I miscalculate the tectonic pressure on a transform plate boundary, and suddenly there are 20,000 dead Turkish villagers.

So yeah, it's my fault. But Jesus Christ, why don't you try spending one god damn minute as the all-fucking benevolent ruler of the universe. Let me see how you like it. It's not – and this can't be stressed enough – it is not a walk through a fucking patch of daisies. Have you ever tried coming up with a cohesive set of rules to govern a physical universe? You get one conflicting rule of thermodynamics, and suddenly BOOM! Your universe is toast. Learned that one the hard way.

Here's the deal: I'll take the blame, since it is my fault, but how about you cut me a little bit of slack? Think you can do that? You keep your free will, try and live your life, maybe even be happy once or twice, and I'll take the fall for the big stuff. Hurricanes, bigotry, inequity, the meteor that's heading your way – it's all on me.

So there you have it. I built the world, and it's a damn screwy place, and I'm sorry for that. But you got free will, so you can make of it whatever you want. Now go on and do whatever it is you do, and give me some peace.

Could be worse

2007-01-08T12:07:00.000-06:00

Your results:
You are Dr. Doom

Dr. Doom		55%
The Joker		51%
Dark Phoenix		48%
Apocalypse		47%
Magneto		45%
Poison Ivy		45%
Mr. Freeze		43%
Green Goblin		41%
Juggernaut		41%
Lex Luthor		40%
Mystique		37%
Catwoman		36%
Venom		31%
Riddler		28%
Two-Face		21%
Kingpin		18%

Blessed with smarts and power but burdened by vanity.

Click here to take the Super Villain Personality Test

Flash Fiction III

2007-01-08T11:52:00.000-06:00

The assignment for our third flash fiction was to write a piece where you could only use words that were 6 letters or less. There was an exclusion list, but I don't think I used any of those words. And again, an attempt was made to hide authorship. I don't think anybody guessed that I wrote this one.

I don't know if that's good or not.

Sunset

He holds her hand and helps her climb down to the craggy rocks below. They step around thorny bushes, moving to a clear slab of wind blown stone. They sit and huddle close to each other for warmth. His hand finds hers, and they wait, still and silent, as the sun slowly moves to its end of day ritual.

The cape juts out from the land, a rocky point that houses the temple to the sea god. Choppy water rushes to meet the rugged coast thirty feet below the temple. Surf sprays the ground, making the uneven paths slick. The few plants that cling to the cape remain small, afraid to battle the wind and water.

He turns to her, places a kiss upon her cheek. His hand pulls a strand of auburn hair away from her eyes and curls it behind her ear. A finger keeps in touch with her skin, slides down her face to her chin, up and over her lips, then leaves, for a brief second, to return with a light tap on the tip of her nose. She laughs and smiles, her gaze still to the west.

The sun, larger than ever, burns deep red as it meets the sea. An island is shown in stark relief, purple and maroon sky ablaze behind it. The sea boils and flames as the sun meets its end. Paths of color streak away from the point of impact, bottles of wine poured over the sea - merlot, shiraz, pinot noir.

"It's lovely." She turns to him, his gaze still intent upon her. "You missed it."

The temple glows red as each column holds onto the last light of the day. The cool marble shines, just as it did ages ago. At last the sun sinks into the sea, and the temple goes dark.

"I didn't come here for the sunset."

Movie Meme

2007-01-04T10:33:00.000-06:00

Apparently I've been tagged by Scooter. If I've been tagged before, I've missed it or ignored it. So now I have to respond to a bunch of questions. Thankfully, this is my Lies site, so answering will be easy. Oh, I sure as hell am not going to find IMDB links to all the movies. That would be sad.

1. Name a movie that you have seen more than 10 times.
Everybody says Princess Bride, which would be true for me, but I'm going to go with Tarzan, because I'm sure I saw it 10 times in a one week period when Koleman was little and we were pathetic lumps who couldn't tell our kid "no."

2. Name a movie that you've seen multiple times in the theater.
I don't think any, so I'll go with Star Whores Episode II - Attack of the Bones.

3. Name an actor that would make you more inclined to see a movie.
Edward Norton. Jack Black (I almost want to see Pick of Destiny, only because of JB).

4. Name an actor that would make you less likely to see a movie.
I think most people know that the answer to this is Andie MacDowell. Or Roddie McDowell. Heck, I'm not too sure about Malcolm MacDowell, either.

5. Name a movie that you can and do quote from.
Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong, the answer to that question is Hairy Peter and the Sorceror's Bone.

6. Name a movie musical that you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs.
Is Little Mermaid a musical? It's not my answer, but I cut and pasted from Mean Mr. Mustard's answers, and that's what he had here. Dork.

7. Name a movie that have been known to sing along with.
Little Mermaid.

8. Name a movie that you would recommend everyone see.
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrells. You might absolutely hate me for it, but you should see it.

9. Name a movie that you own.
Little Mermaid.

10. Name an actor that launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.
I'm taking Scooter's answer - Marky Mark. If I can't copy, then I'm going for Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what?
Yes, but it's been a long time and I can't remember. Lay off.

12. Ever made out in a movie?
Yes, but not with Shelley Jeffers.

13. Name a movie that you keep meaning to see but just haven't yet gotten around to it.
Brokeback Mountain. And Forrest Hump.

14. Ever walked out of a movie?
No. Never.

15. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.
Laying Private Ryan.

16. Popcorn?
Sometimes. Depends. Maybe. Possibly

17. How often do go to the movies (as opposed to renting them or watching them at home)?
Once every two or three months.

18. What's the last movie you saw in the theater?
Borat. Take that, Scooter!

19. What's your favorite/preferred genre of movie?
Don't have one.

20. What's the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Star Wars. Maybe.

21. What movie do you wish you had never seen?
Gangbangs of New York.

22. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?
Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!

23. What is the scariest movie you've seen?
Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

24. What is the funniest movie you've seen?
Since it's fresh in my mind, I'm going to irritate Scooter and say Borat.

Flash Fiction II

2007-01-01T19:54:00.000-06:00

The second time we did a flash fiction day (four weeks later) there were two wrinkles. The first is that I now knew that sometimes people tried to copy the style of others in the class, or modify how they write, to make it harder to guess who wrote what. The second wrinkle is that our professor gave us a challenge - write the piece without using one letter. Ideally the missing letter should be something that would be important, not a q, j or z. I had already started working on a piece, and since it was first person, I decided to write it without using the letter i. Try it some time. It's fun.

Truth

The old lady nods and beams at me, the baby clutched to her chest. Confused, my words tumble out, “No. She can not be my daughter. Tell them. Tell them that!” Our translator doesn't deserve my anger, but nobody else presents themselves as a target.

He speaks to the lawyer who works for the placement agency. Not enough words are exchenged. He turns to me, “No, they know. Your daughter. Huan Yue.”

“No! Look at the old lady. She holds a baby! She can't be more than two months old. Huan Yue was born fourteen months ago!” My purse holds photographs of Huan Yue that have come to us from Hangzhou over the past seven months. The newest ones are always ready to show our folks, co-workers, and other people who we would see. As the only attachment we've had to our baby daughter for seven months, they are treasures to us.

Pulled from my purse, the small framed photograph acts as my proof, shown to the translator, to the lawyer, to the old lady, even to the baby herself. “Look! Here you can see Huan Yue! Here you can see my daughter! You do not have Huan Yue!”

My heart beats faster. My breath catches. The walls encroach upon my body. We have made plans for today for over a year. We completed such a great deal of work, and expended so much energy to be able to come here. Then, at last, we learned that there was a baby who would be able to become our daughter. We accepted Huan Yue as a part of our household. She was our baby daughter, even though she was across an ocean. She was ours.

And now, after seven long months, my daughter should be before me, and they present me a falsehood! After a thousand dreams where we meet, Huan Yue held to my breast, her small cheek pressed to my blouse, and they offer a fake. A fraud!

Who can come to my rescue? My husband, back at the hotel, probably on the bathroom floor? He has suffered from some unknown malady upon the moment we landed at Hangzhou. Our help here was supposed to be the agency attorney, yet he refuses to acknowledge the truth!

The attorney takes the baby and comes at me, places her upon my arms. “Huan Yue. Yes.”

He looks at me, nods and backs away. Do they see me as a fool? Slowly the facts become clear to me. Only two ways to choose are before me – take the baby offered to me home, or return empty handed, alone.

The baby opens her eyes and reaches out a small hand. She looks at me, dark eyes aglow. She was a blameless pawn, used by others to secure some goal.

A prayer forms as my thoughts turn to the real Huan Yue. May she have a home where she can grow, play and learn. May she have a mother and father to care for her. May she have love.

“Yes. My baby.”

Flash Fiction I

2006-12-27T20:04:00.000-06:00

Four times during the course of my class we distributed flash fiction (1 page, 300-500 words). We each bring in enough copies to share with everyone in the class (the professor brings one of his own as well, and sometimes a ringer), which are randomly distributed. We read each of the stories, and then at the end try and guess who wrote which story. I don't know why we did that, but it was entertaining. The first flash fiction was the first day of class, which meant that I had to bring in homework (my first college homework in 11+ years), without having any sense of what the class, program, or other students were like. So I went for odd. I guess.

Jeremiah Finkelbom

Jeremiah Finkelbom was not a happy man. The source of his discontent had nothing to do with his name - Jeremiah Finkelbom - although that had certainly been the cause of many difficulties in his life. Today Jeremiah Finkelbom was agitated due to the actions of the man in front of him.

Jeremiah's response to this issue is one that had been perfected by generations of Finkelboms. Indignation, generally righteous, followed by an internal debate between the Finkelbom and the object of Finkelbom ire (the Finkelbom always winning the debate quite handily). Bouyed by the imaginary victory, the Finkelbom's indignation slowly heats to frustration, then to anger, and eventually to a white-hot rage.

And so, knowing that he had the higher ground against his adversary, both morally and literally (as it happened in this particular instance) Jeremiah turned and completed the centuries old Finkelbom ritual – he took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and quite softly made a cutting remark about the vile person's choice of attire.

What some would view as cowardice the Finkelbom considered practicality, or in some cases muted bravery. While every society needs its heroes, it is also true that it cannot function without its Finkelboms. There are only so many heroes to choose from, and eventually the young ladies in a town will come to the realization that it is better to have a Finkelbom husband than no husband at all. It was truly glorious in times of war, when the Finkelboms (who had to stay away from the fighting due to flat feet, trick knees or weak wrists) were actually prized – a complete Finkelbom makes a much better spouse than a warrior who returns from battle with a limb shortage.

It is true that Jeremiah did not realize that his actions were part of an eons old ritual, but past generations of Finkelboms would have nodded their heads in agreement as he spoke, barely above a murmer, “I saw a homeless man on Seventh Street who wants his jacket back.” (It was certainly a Finkelbom who muttered to William Wallace, “I see that your mother let you wear your prom dress to the battle.”)

The target of this cutting remark, hearing something, looked around quizzically. Jeremiah merely stared straight ahead, exhibiting the practiced Finkelbom look that said I didn't say anything, I'm just standing here looking at the trees.

And so the victim walked away, knowing nothing about the gross indignity which he perpretrated upon Jeremiah Finkelbom, the terrible mental tongue lashing he received, or the harsh criticism of his choice of outerwear. Jeremiah smiled, having once again defeated a worthy foe, and continued on his way.

Brotherly Love

2006-12-26T12:28:00.000-06:00

Drew Davies stared into his coffee and exhaled, swirling the thin
tendrils of steam that rose from the hot drink. He put both hands
around the mug, feeling the warmth, and sighed. “I already told
you everything. I don't know what else you want me to say.”

Officer Antione Gates wrote in his notebook and took a sip of
coffee. “I'm sorry, Drew, you know I'm just doing my job.”
He stood up from the table and brought his mug over to the kitchen
counter, poured the rest of his coffee down the drain and rinsed his
glass. He looked out the window and stared quietly for a minute.
“Steve's motorcycle, right?” Officer Gates pointed to the
driveway, where two wheels poked out from under a dark green storage
cover.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't look like it's been used for a while.”

“It's been at least two years.”

“Did he ever make it to Sturgis? I remember he always talked
about that in high school.”

Drew walked over to the fridge and slid a picture out from
underneath a magnet. “Five years ago.” He handed the
picture to Officer Gates. A young man, black jeans and black t-shirt,
dark sunglasses, sat on a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy motorcycle, its
chrome glinting in the sunlight. Hundreds of bikes stretched out
behind the man, clogging the wide street.

“Good for him.” Officer Gates headed towards the door,
then stopped and turned back towards Drew. “Oh, yeah, one quick
question. I talked to a couple of people who thought that there was
no way Steve could have done it. What do you think about that?”

“I talked to Brad yesterday. He warned me that you were
fishing for something. You saw the same thing I did, I don't know
what you're hoping to find. My brother did it, all by himself. What
other explanation is there?” Drew shoved his hands into his
pockets and stared into Officer Gates' eyes.

“You're right. I saw it, too. Oh, I think this is yours.”
He pulled a plastic yellow ball from his pocket and tossed it to
Drew. Officer Gates turned and walked out the door.

“Yeah, this is mine.”

* * * *
* * *

“Thanks for coming,” Drew said, shaking hands with Brad
Stenson, Steve's business partner.

“Of course. I still can't believe what he did. I swear, I
never thought he would do something like that.” Brad ran his
hands through his hair. “Have you talked to Gates yet? He was
in the office this morning for almost an hour. I think he's looking
for something, but won't come out and ask it directly.”

“No, we haven't talked yet. He's going to come over tomorrow
morning for coffee.”

“I'm sorry, this isn't what we should be talking about now.
There are lots of people who want to talk to you. I'll see you
around.” Brad shook Drew's hand, gave him a pat on the
shoulder, and walked away.

Drew looked at the group of people milling around, dressed in somber
black suits and conservative dresses. He nodded to men that he knew
and endured hugs from older ladies as he crossed the room. Soft piano
music filtered into the room from overhead speakers. He stopped,
placing his hands on top of the casket.

“Steve was a good man.” Drew turned to see Vanessa,
Steve's high-school sweetheart and one-time fiance. “I can't
believe he's gone. He's too young.”

Drew tensed, his fingers pressing hard to the top of the oaken
casket.

“I know you're mad at me,” Vanessa continued, “I
know you think I shouldn't have left him. You probably think that I
should have supported him more. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.”
She placed her hands on top of Drew's. “Please, I can't stand
to have you mad at me, on top of all this. I know how hard it's been
for you, I've felt this loss, too.”

Drew lifted his hands away and looked her directly in the eyes. “You
have no idea how hard it's been for me. You don't know what he was
like to live with. You don't know what I had to do. You left.”

“I know. But I had to think about myself. He was so difficult
to live with. I needed freedom.”

“Well, you got it.” Drew turned and walked away, facing
straight ahead, ignoring the dull murmer of the crowd, focusing on
the door.

* * * *
* * *

“215 Ash Street! My brother is dead!”

Drew threw the phone down and ran into the bathroom. Steve's body
was on the floor, eyes open, staring blankly into the pool of blood
around his head.

“Dammit, Steve! Why couldn't you have been stronger?”
Drew slowly sat down on the floor next to his brother's body, gently
lifting Steve's head onto his lap. Wiping the blood from his hands
onto his pants, he used his thumb and forefinger to close Steve's
eyes.

Drew didn't notice when the sound of sirens got louder, or when his
front door banged open. He was still staring at his brother's quiet
face and stroking his brother's hair when the first paramedic entered
the room. The paramedic knelt down and felt Steve's neck for a pulse.
“Are you hurt at all, sir?” he asked Drew.

“What? No. I'm fine.”

Officer Antoine Gates stepped into the bathroom with another
paramedic. “Jesus Christ, Drew, what happened here?”
Kneeling down, he pulled a cloth from his pocket and used it to pick
up a black pistol.

“He wasn't strong enough. He just wasn't strong enough.”

Officer Gates set the gun back down and walked over to the sink.
Bending down, he picked up a ball, yellow and slightly squishy, and
placed it in a plastic baggie. “Drew, these men need to do
their job. Let me help you up.” Drew carefully placed his
brother's head back on the floor, and took hold of Officer Gates'
hand.

Officer Gates' nose wrinkled as he lifted Drew off the floor. “Drew,
do I smell gunpowder on you? What happened?”

“I tried to stop him, but I was too late. I had my hand on his
when he pulled the trigger. I couldn't stop him.” Drew held up
his hands, shaking and blood stained.

“I'm so sorry, Drew. I know this has been a tough time for you
guys, but I never expected it to end like this.”

“I didn't either. I honestly didn't.”

* * * *
* * *

“Steve?” Drew walked through the house, looking for his
brother. He went into Steve's room, and saw the door to his private
bathroom closed. Putting his ear to the door, he heard quiet crying
from in the room. He opened the door and entered. “Are you OK
Steve?”

He saw Steve on the floor, his wheelchair next to the shower. Steve
was leaning against the wall, and a gun was in his lap.

“I can't.” Steve said, the words slow and slurred. He
looked up at Drew, tears streaming down his face. “I can't.”

“It's OK, Steve. It'll be OK.” Drew sat down on the
linoleum floor, slowly reached out and took the Glock 21 away from
his brother. The black polymer body of the gun was cool to the touch,
and Drew carefully removed the magazine from the handle of the gun,
then set them down on the floor, away from his brother.

“No!” Steve's shout was low, and followed by a slow
wheeze. “I can't.” He reached to his side and
picked up a bright yellow ball from the floor. It was made of squishy
plastic, the size of a tennis ball, with a smiley face on one side.
Steve attempted to squeeze the ball, but his fingers only made small
indentations in the plastic. “Too late.”

Steve let go of the ball, and it bounced off his knee and rolled
underneath the pedastal sink, resting next to the white marble base.
He slumped over, his head resting on the floor, and began to sob.

“Steve, I'm so sorry. Come on, stop it, we'll get through
this. There's still that clinical trial I told you about, remember?”
Drew slid over to Steve, lifted up his head and put it in his lap.
“We'll keep fighting, right to the end.”

“I want to die. You promised.” The words were slow, and
muffled, and slurred, but Drew heard them clearly. When Steve was
newly diagnosed, they had talked at length about how vigorously to
fight the disease. Steve was a fighter – a strong, bold young
man who tackled problems the same way that he took down opposing
players as an All-Conference linebacker at Central High. Steve made
it clear that the thing he feared the most was wasting away, a
prisoner in his own body.

“I'll fight this as long and as hard as I can, but once I
start to lose, I'm going to end it.”

The brothers were sitting in a waiting room at Memorial Hospital. A
coffee table was in front of them, plastic covered copies of Good
Housekeeping and Sports
Illustrated scattered on top.

“What are you talking about? We're going to beat this thing.”

“Come on, Drew, you and I both know what's going to happen. At
some point I'm going to be stuck in a wheelchair with a tube in my
throat. I won't be able to eat, or breathe, or wipe my own ass. I'm
not going to end up like that. When I start going downhill, I'm going
to use the Glock. Screw it.”

Drew put his head in his hands. “Stop it, Steve, don't talk
like that. You can't kill yourself.”

“I will. And don't even try to stop me. It's happening already
- I couldn't even use the twenty pound weights this morning. I could
pick up fifteen, but not twenty.”

“Yeah, but there's exercises you can do to help strengthen
your hands. And there's all kinds of new research and medicines
they're developing. You don't need to talk about killing yourself.”

Steve grabbed Drew's head in both hands and pulled his face towards
him. “I will try all the exercises and drugs that I can,
because I am scared to death of dying. But it absolutely freaks me
out to think of being trapped in a body that can't do anything. I
would rather be dead. You have to promise me, brother to brother,
that when I decide to do it, you won't stop me.” Steve panted,
taking a deep breath. “Promise.”

“OK, I promise. It's your decision to make. I promise.”

Drew picked up the Glock, and slowly clicked the magazine into
place. “I promised.” He placed the gun in Steve's right
hand, curling his forefinger around the trigger. “I promised.”
He covered Steve's hand with his own, lifted the gun and placed the
barrell to his brother's temple.

Steve looked into his brother's eyes, blinked away tears, and
nodded, slightly. He closed his eyes and tensed, and Drew squeezed
his hand. The sound of the gun resonated in the small room, and it
was all Drew could hear, even as the gun clattered to the floor and
Steve's body collapsed in a heap. Drew stared at the wall, looked at
his hands, and closed his eyes.

“I promised.”

Mix and Match

2006-09-21T11:27:00.000-05:00

At U.N., Chavez calls Bush 'the devil'

Wed Sep 20, 11:48 AM ET

This is a test

2006-07-10T08:04:00.000-05:00

2006-05-18T14:54:00.000-05:00

blah

2006-05-17T13:33:00.000-05:00

test

Haiku Book Review: Thud!, Terry Pratchett

2005-10-17T08:34:00.000-05:00

Dwarves and Trolls, oh my!

A secret at Koom Valley.

Can Sam Vimes fix it?

Haiku Movie Review: The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

2005-10-14T13:17:00.000-05:00

Very odd people

Embark on a sea voyage.

Quirky, oddball fun.

Haiku Book Review: Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer

2005-10-12T15:11:00.000-05:00

Twelve year old genius

And criminal mastermind.

Good book for Koleman.

Haiku Book Review: Going Postal, Terry Pratchett

2005-10-12T15:08:00.000-05:00

Spoof the Post Office,

And business and cons too.

Moist von Lipwig rules.

Haiku Movie Revew: The Upside of Anger

2005-10-06T09:26:00.000-05:00

It's no Field of Dreams.

Costner sure put on some weight.

SPOILER: Hubby's dead.

Haiku Book Review: Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett

2005-10-03T10:33:00.000-05:00

Crazy army group

Fights foes and old ideas.

Pratchett rocks again.

Haiku Movie Revew: Hitch

2005-10-03T10:20:00.000-05:00

Hitch helps dating men.

But can he learn to love too?

Corny, cute and fun.

Food for Thought

2005-09-06T10:36:00.000-05:00

Thought

2005-09-01T17:13:00.000-05:00

A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon, and gas prices rise forty cents in the U.S.

Wow

2005-09-01T10:03:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading a remarkable book, The Last Shot, by Darcy Frey. For me it was deja vu all over again, as it brought me back to my days as a high school basketball player. The pressure of playing against the top players in the country, of performing in front of top Division I coaches, knowing that if you fail at basketball you will end up in a life of drugs, living in horrible projects at a poverty level, praying that you will be able to score a 700 on your SAT - all of these things were the hallmark of my high school days.

I give it an 84 for its ability to mirror my life.

Crap

2005-08-25T09:52:00.000-05:00

Damn you, Larry.

I thought that it was time to let this godforsaken blog die the pitiful death that it had earned, but then I started getting hits from CDFFL. So now I feel compelled to post something. Fine, here goes:

If you are visiting here from CDFFL, thank you for contributing money to what will surely be the Kevin Lund Victory Tour.

Now go away.

2005-08-11T15:14:00.000-05:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

What do I like?

2005-08-05T09:31:00.000-05:00

In a comment to a previous post of mine, Scooter said, "I don't think I ever pictured you as a Green Day fan."

It made me wonder, what kind of music do you think I like? And that led, naturally, to the thought that there should be an exciting contest, where the few losers who look at my blog can guess at what are the most frequently played songs on my iPod. But a contest is meaningless without a prize, and so, to stoke your contemplations, I have come up with a reward that is priceless. To the person who makes the best guess I reward ... praise on a CDFFL recap. Yes, when Larry allows me to do a recap, I will have nothing but kind words for the lucky winner.

This is certainly the greatest thing anybody has ever seen on a Friday morning.

Great job, Larry!

2005-08-04T16:59:00.000-05:00

You're excellent at PhotoShop, I'll give you that. I mean, this picture hardly has any flaws at all. Bravo!

Does this hurt his Hall of Fame chances?

2005-08-01T12:13:00.000-05:00

ESPN.com - MLB - Palmeiro suspended for steroids, denies using them

Nice way to follow up the good publicity you received from joining the 3,000 hit club. "Palmeiro said he had accepted his punishment and could not explain how the steroids got into his body." Sure, I'll buy that. Probably some jealous teammate spiked his Coke. As the Green Goblin so eloquently put it, "the one thing they love more than a hero is to see a hero fail." So true.

I swear to god, STAY AWAY!!

2005-08-01T10:34:00.000-05:00

Do not, under any circumstances, download and install Google Earth. If, by accident, you do happen to install Google Earth, PLEASE do not go to the Google Earth Community website and start poking around there. And ESPECIALLY don't visit the Earth Browsing section. For the love of God, listen to me! Once you've gone in, you'll never come out!

HELP ME!

I think they want you, Scooter

2005-07-26T13:28:00.000-05:00

An open casting call looking for "extreme characters and hideously unattractive types." Just to warn you, though, this isn't a paid interview. Sorry.

Book Review: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, J.K. Rowlings

2005-07-21T10:37:00.000-05:00

It's hard to describe accurately what one feels upon completing the latest addition to the Harry Potter series. It certainly picks up the story where Order of the Phoenix left off, but it strays a bit from the style that we've come to expect from Rowlings.

Is there wizardry? Yes, of course! But it's not exactly the same. For example, in this book Ron ventures into Knockturn Alley to meet with a shady wizard. But instead of attempting to gain information to help Harry defeat Lord Voldemort, Ron purchases a "self-enhancement" potion, in order to "increase" and "enlarge" his chances of making a "significant impression" on Hermione. (if you know what I mean)

Is there witchcraft? Again, of course! It's just that I didn't expect to read about Ginny Weasly filming an erotic home video with Professor Flitwick where they "charm the pants off one another." (and I think you know what I mean)

Probably the most surprising aspect of the book was learning that Dumbledore (the titular Half-Blood Prince) had in fact been a minion of Voldemort's all along. When his connection to the Dark Lord was revealed, he fled to London with Snape, and the two of them moved into a flat in Soho, where "Dumbledore would pay the rent, and Snape would take care of the utilities." (and I know you know what I mean)

The ending of the book is even more surprising, but I don't want to give it away for those who have yet to read it. Here's a hint though: Harry, Hagrid, two Boy Scouts, four "wands", and a ham sandwich. (oh yeah, you know what I mean)

Anyway, I give it a 99.

Furthermore

2005-07-20T09:28:00.000-05:00

I am supposed to link to my greatest posts, so all of the losers who come here from the City Pages will know how brilliant I think I am. Or something like that. I never get these things correct.

My archive from last September is loaded with brilliant posts. Amazing.
Is it possible to top the adventures of Flatulence Man?
Of course, my account of The Wiggles True Hollywood Story is a masterpiece beyond compare.
And finally, the coop de resistor: this post. Wow.

Happy?

Have I mentioned yet

2005-07-20T08:12:00.000-05:00

that people who read the City Pages are simple-minded fools who believe that spurning mass media options makes them somehow better than other people? Is there anything more disgusting than self-important boobs?

Larry, Quick!

2005-07-13T10:43:00.000-05:00

Read this before you get in trouble! Beware big brother!

Mix and Match

2005-07-06T10:56:00.000-05:00

Angelina Jolie adopts Ethiopian AIDS orphan

Reuters - Tue Jul 5,11:14 PM ET

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Actress Angelina Jolie is adopting a newborn Ethiopian girl orphaned by AIDS, People magazine reported on Tuesday.

Thomson-West

2005-06-30T16:20:00.000-05:00

[Post deleted in order to make sure someone who isn't responsible for this doesn't get held responsible for this.]"Thomson-West, Eagan, MN" "Thomson-West paranoid fascist cows." testicles idiots heroin

Trivia

2005-06-27T11:42:00.000-05:00

I just finished a series where I learned that Satan is, oddly enough, the stepfather of God. What series did I finish?

Mean Mr. Mustard has been meaning to post on this

2005-06-26T16:06:00.000-05:00

but just hasn't found the time yet.

Is there a more meaningless statistic in baseball than the hold? The thought is valid - a way to statistically quantify the value of middle relievers. But something is obviously wrong with the implementation. Today Alan Embree got a Hold - despite the fact that all three batters he faced got on base and scored. Here's his line:

	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K	HR	Season ERA
A. Embree (H, 3)	0.0	1	3	2	1	0	0	7.79

[Straight Line:] It must be nice to have a job where you can be a complete and utter failure and still get the spoils of success.

Oh crap

2005-06-26T13:41:00.000-05:00

The perverts have found my photo blog:

	Num	Perc.	Search Term
	2	18.18%	photos of cute boys

Subliminal Parenting

2005-06-24T18:51:00.000-05:00

While Kelson sits in the living room reading Animal Babies, ABC, he is listening to American Idiot.

So, which is it?

2005-06-23T17:42:00.000-05:00

Are lions noble and wonderful, or vindictive and evil? They need to make up their minds, because I'm getting confused.

Father's Day

2005-06-20T09:18:00.000-05:00

We had a very nice Father's Day, and one that Scooter should appreciate. We (myself, my dad, my grandfather and my brother, along with our significant others and children) went to New Ulm to go on the Schell's brewery tour. It's short and simple, which is good when one member of the party is a couple months removed from knee replacement surgery. And you definitely recoup your $2 entrance fee in the taphouse afterward. We finished up the brewery tour with a trip to Happy Joe's pizza. Ah, Happy Joe's pizza...

Pizza and beer - it's easy to please fathers.

I can die a happy man, now

2005-06-20T08:43:00.000-05:00

I just saw Bo Bice perform on the Today Show. Life is good.

I will now go shoot myself

2005-06-16T08:58:00.000-05:00

The National Father's Day Council has announced their four finalists for Father of the Year. The finalists include Donald Trump and Larry King, who have combined for 10 marriages and 10 children. How can I compete with that?

Full Story Here.

Very odd

2005-06-07T12:31:00.000-05:00

I can now provide Mean Mr. Mustard a reason to watch the NBA Finals. I was watching the Heat-Pistons game last night and whenever I saw Chauncey Billups I knew that he looked like somebody, but I couldn't place who. Eventually I realized that, as odd as it seems, Billups looks like Scott Hanson. Not all the time, of course, but it is especially noticeable after a call that Billups doesn't like. He and Hanson have almost the exact same expression when showing their disgust for a call.

This is the best picture I could find, and it doesn't really do the similarity justice:

It is probably wise to keep in mind, however, that I only have the brain the size of a walnut.

Ouch

2005-06-03T16:30:00.000-05:00

I know my opinion doesn't count for much, but seeing Hakeem like this is just painful. I'm sure Mean Mr. Mustard agrees completely.

Grass Stains

2005-05-29T12:40:00.000-05:00

If you have a problem with grass stains, go to Tide's stain detective to get the answer. However, under no circumstances should you click on the link "richard from Orange County uses tide."

That's just not right.

Classic

2005-05-27T13:40:00.000-05:00

This is pure brilliance. From the way Jose is seated behind the little missus to the fact that they're both holding the horse, I just can't look at this picture without conjuring up some seriously twisted scenarios.

Jose Santos

Issue: 2004

Photo by Richard Corman

Rita and Jose Santos (Jockey)

Saratoga Springs, N.Y.

Swimsuit by OMO Norma Kamali

Excuse me?

2005-05-27T09:49:00.000-05:00

Why didn't Sanchita join her sisters? Odd, dontchathink?