TERROR ALERT LEVEL:

June 2007
					1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9
10	11	12	13	14	15	16
17	18	19	20	21	22	23
24	25	26	27	28	29	30

Older stuff...

— 2007 —

April 2007

March 2007

February 2007

January 2007

— 2006 —

December 2006

November 2006

Same guy, different krep...
Father Knows
Things About GOD

MEMBER OF...

Things to put in your head...

Friends...

Everyday reads...

Read on YOUR terms...

Read on THEIR terms...

Stuff for your ears...

Yes, I'm reading this now

What's in the CD?

Must Read(s):

 

Check it out...

My Amazon Wish List

All commentary Copyright Stonestead.com, 2007. No part may be reproduced without permission. All statements within are the express view of the author and not necessarily those of his employeer, his clergy, his spouse, his friends or even himself.

What? "Adventures?" What kind of "adventures" would YOU have in a grocery store - did you foil a terrorist plot to take over the cheese aisle? Quiet, you. What could happen in a grocery store in your life that could be classified as an "adventure?" Look here... No, seriously; who do you think you are, John Mclaine? LISTEN UP you imaginary foil - if you don't put a sock in it NObody will ever hear from you again. You got it?!? ...

Good. Now let's get started...

Actually, that annoying little guy's point isn't too far afield; 'adventures' is a bit of an overstatement. "Misadventures" might be closer to the truth. At any rate, I was at the store the other day and it was like walking into a Dali painting; as I moved through the 'head aisle,' I was consistently pestered by vast numbers of ignorami who insisted on stopping in the middle of the road for absolutely no reason, parked to talk to friends who - SURPRISE! - also have to eat from time to time, or people who jetted out from the cross aisles at speeds that would qualify me as an extreme sport participant.

OK, so there's not much new there. But once I passed the frozen foods and tucked myself into the soft drink/sugar-filled candy lanes, I saw a strange sight: a small boy - about 7 would be my best guess - was walking towards me, looking sad and rubbing his eyes but not quite crying. This was the genesis of two different dilemmas in me. First, was the kid lost/separated from his family? Was that the reason for his generally dour appearance - or was he just upset because his Mother wouldn't buy a box of the limited re-release of FrankenBerry cereal?

Secondly, should I approach the child with an offer of assistance? I could help him find his way to the courtesy desk and from there they could page his parent(s). They might be reunited 5 minutes earlier if I get involved at this point.

And then I realize which world I'm currently living in and if I'm even SEEN on a security cam talking to a young boy - ALONE - in a supermarket, I immediately open myself up to the potential of things so terrible that I dare not contemplate them. Thereby making the rational decision to allow this child to further wander the store at the mercy of others who may not be as well intentioned.

Of course, this opens up a whole new vein of thought: should my son become dislodged from the family during a retail outing, would I want someone to approach him, or would I want him left to the distracted whims of the teenage employees? Well, I guess I'd want him to be safe, whatever that means in the particular context.

So maybe they just sent their son on a mission in order to produce more responsibility in him. It's something I thought I might eventually do, but I've changed my mind...

The other 'interesting' thing that happened to me -- as I was leaving the store and walking out into the parking lot, I noticed a young lady behind the wheel of a car trying to escape the lot. A rather cute brunette in her mid-20's, (but she might've been 12 based on my estimation of ages lately, had she not been driving), who seemed to be paying an unusual amount of attention to me.

Thinking, "well, the old man's still got it," I immediately considered my gait (without the least bit of consideration of the fact that the young lady at the wheel wouldn't understand the the word, "gait"), and then proceeded to inventory my physical state: I stood up straighter, I carried the grocery bags in my right hand at an increased angle, (which makes ones shoulder appear larger), and then turned to the plastic basket in my left hand...

Wait a minute...

I was IN the parking lot. I was done (Binkyspeak: "nun") shopping. And what did I hold in my left hand? A plastic shopping basket. No wonder the chick in question took an extra few seconds to look me over. What did she imagine I was still looking for - headlights?

J.O.T.W...

A man was stopped by a game-warden in Northern Algonquin Park recently with two buckets of fish leaving a lake well known for its fishing

The game warden asked the man, "Do you have a license to catch those fish?"

The man replied to the game warden, "No, sir. These are my pet fish."

"Pet fish?!" the warden replied.

"Yes, sir. Every night I take these here fish down to the lake and let them swim around for a while. I whistle and they jump back into their buckets, and I take em home."

"That's a bunch of hooey! Fish can't do that!"

The man looked at the game warden for a moment, and then said, "Here, I'll show you. It really works."

"O.K. I've GOT to see this!" The game warden was curious.

The man poured the fish in to the river and stood and waited. After several minutes, the game warden turned to the man and said, "Well?"

"Well, what?" the man responded.

"When are you going to call them back?" the game warden prompted.

"Call who back?" the man asked.

"The FISH"

"What fish?" the man asked.

(Proof you can always submit a joke, but you need to take note of the email contact, let you not receive credit for such...)

Whoa, whoa, whoa. What in the WORLD happened here yesterday? Did someone with very little knowledge of the English language hack my site?!?

No, unfortunately, I'm the hack in question. See, it goes like this: have you ever got up early and thought, 'hey! I'm up early - I've got lots of time to get out of here!' only to leave the house a half hour late? Yeah, me too. Now you know that a similar thing happens to me when D-Man goes to sleep without a struggle just after 9:00; I let some chirpy-happy version of me think that they've got all night to fiddle around.

Plus I seem to have thought that you knew the first part of what I meant to say anyway. So I'm sorry about that. Really, really sorry.

It will happen again...

All across the country you can hear geeks buzzing at a frequency usually reserved for the announcement of a Star Wars movie or finding out that they may have an actual date with an actual girl who's not actually their cousin -- who's only doing it because their mom promised to extend their curfew by an hour if they go. "That Quentin is such a nice boy - you'll have a good time." "You said an hour, right? A full hour?"

At any rate, The iPhone is coming! The iPhone is coming! And those of us here at The Stonestead have already released our expected giant yawn...

Big stinkin' deal - a phone that thinks it's a computer. Sure it's the wave of the future, but that just means that more of them are on the way. And maybe they'll have service that you can actually use. But Puh-Leeze; "It does everything!" Oh really? Sure it plays music, but I have a radio. One on my nightstand, one in the bathroom, one downstairs, one on my computer, one in my home entertainment center, one in my truck and one on my desk. And half of them also play CD's and/or MP3s. It holds pics and movies, but then so does my laptop, computer and DVD player in each - as well as the many DVD players around the house. Camera, clock, calculator - all old news and all in my phone, (which I didn't have to pay and arm and a kidney for, BTW).

You know what I want in a phone? I want to be able to make a call and maybe receive one on very rare occasions. What I don't want is to send a video of "Rumpshaker" to my boss while trying to join a conference call. Nice and simple - that's me. And you know how much I love technology. Eventually I'll embrace such an all-in-one device, but only after it can detect a lie from my kids, remotely unlock and start my truck, pay my bills and tell me when we're running low on cheese.

...And we liked it - now GET OFF MY LAWN!!

The latest lame-brained democratic (sorry - redundancy) idea coming from Washington seems to be losing the war in Iraq. No -- sorry. That's a years old democratic idea. The latest moronic scheme seems to be reviving the so-called, "fairness doctrine." Now, to give you an idea of how mis-named this idea is, I'd like to introduce the "Fully-Nourished Puppy Doctrine." (Be honest - you already LOVE the idea, don't you?).

It works like this: since there are dogs and wolves (hey - they're at least cousins) out there who regularly go hungry, we must undertake an effort to supply them with much needed nourishment. In order to do this we will track down registered democrats, inflict them with a series of small cuts serious enough to produce hemorrhage and then released into local animal shelters. Those who fail to attract enough attention from the population will be coated in barbecue sauce and sent back in.

It's the perfect plan in that it does exactly what it promises: nourishes canines. Still, I'm guessing that about one third of the country would object rather strenuously to said initiative, regardless of it's rather benign sounding name.

So too the 'fairness' doctrine. It stakes a claim of fairness - and can even probably argue its own case based on what it would bring: every idea has an equal claim of time on the public airwaves. But like all leftist ideas it dies The Quick Death Of Heightened Scrutiny.

Namely, what comes next? That's the problem with ALL lefty "ideas" - they're designed to assuage a current malady without ANY thought as to the consequences they might create, or the further pain they might inflict upon those it's supposed to help. What really matters is that something be done to soothe THE VIEWER'S discomfort and to Hell with those actually suffering.

(Many examples THRIVE, but this is neither the place nor the time.)

And 'what comes next' with a revival of the 'fairness' doctrine is the death of all political discourse over the public airwaves. It HAS to be the case, because the owner of the outlet is suddenly handcuffed by what they can air and what requires a rebuttal and from how many sources and if a muslim is seen speeking during a news story, how much time should then be given to a Hindu in Alaska by way of rebuttal?

Hmmm...

Now that I've written it that way, I'm beginning to wonder if such action wouldn't possibly prove to be a positive to the greater population - if only because math would once again become important. Something along the lines of, "If a muslim decries radicalism on a station with a 14 share for 20 seconds, how much time should be given to a wahabist who desires time on a Seattle public access station with only a 3 share, but whose broadcasts are shared over the PBS network at varying times but which carry an average of an 8 share over 80% of the times such re-broadcasts are aired? Please phrase your answer to the nearest complete minute."

You're right, that would never work. Katie's head would just explode.

Let's hope they get it on camera...

Awww... krep. It was right there in front of me and I missed it entirely. Not that I'm all that surprised by this revelation, I just kind of thought better of myself. One known personal fault afte another, I'm afraid...

Yesterday was my brother's birthday, and I forgot to write him a 'graph or two wishing him well at it. But like all of the rest of life, this has its up side and its down side; one 'up' is that I don't imagine he can be bothered to read this site, EVER. Goes against too many of his 'leanings' - if you catch my drift. (Just to check if he IS reading.) Another 'up' is that I called him tonight and had the kids sing "Happy Birthday" to him - both to his voice mail and to him in person when he returned the call.

(And by, "...had the kids sing..." I mean that "M" actually sang the song on cue both times. And by "sing" I mean that The Binkster babbled and yelled. D-Man was silent and smiling while looking at the phone's screen for who-knows-what.)

The downside is... is... well, that I forgot, I guess. That's pretty much an important part of the Birthday recognition process: remembering the darned thing in the first place. The other 'down' is that I think this was his 35th. That's one of those round numbers that make it all the more important that everybody else remember, but I let it slip past.

So, Happy Birthday, Bro! I know things aren't all you think they're supposed to be right now and where you are certainly isn't where you'd planned to be. And as strange as it might sound, that's good news; we all feel that way pretty much every day of our lives. Not where we thought we wanted to be - certainly not where we planned on being - but here all the same.

And then you get down to the buisness of doing the best you can for those you care about - including yourself - given where you land and what you land with.

But don't worry about that now. Bask in today's afterglow...

One other missed opportunity that passed yesterday was a piece of my favorite summertime torture: reminding everyone that something lies beyond the pallid, still heat that surrounds us at the moment. Most notably that there was - as of yesterday, mind you - 128 days until Halloween. Doesn't sound like much, does it? Well, it's not; a mere 128 4:37PM's left until Tricks and Treats. And, (because I choose not to ruin Friday), just 18 Mondays between here and that chocolate-laden date.

128 days to Halloween. Wow. Of course, what's more amazing is that there's just 182 days until Christmas. See the number play at work there? Of course you do. And see how I missed my one opportunity to point it out when it was an actual, real thing?!? Do you know that such a confluence of numbers will not happen again this year?

It's gone - GONE FOR GOOD!

Or at least I assume it is; I don't have the time to check it out just now. Sounds right, though...

How hard was it to find this guy? I mean, really; it's Salt Lake City after all! The land where each wife wears a longer skirt than the last one. Men in ties are the norm and men with... well... swastika tattoos all over their bodies - AND THEIR FACES - pretty much make an impression.

To say the least...

Here's what I found the most interesting: If you can, take note of the script over his eyes. No, further up -- above his eyebrow tats. That's it. No, sorry, a little below his hairline tats. See that, there? The fancy script letters that read, "Property of Jolene?" Provided that they've built a prison that can finally hold him, that will most likely soon read, "Property of Jamal."

In all seriousness, I fail to see how anyone can look at that picture and feel anything but a deep sense of loss. He's a wasted form of life and frankly I'd like to know how it happened; I'd like to know what this guy's childhood was like and what it was that so deeply crushed his soul to bring him to this point.

As a Father, I sometimes wonder about how my discipline techniques are affecting my children. I'd like to think that I'm still another galaxy away from even approaching this level of abuse, but, WHAT? What about what I'm doing to correct my children's behavior is going to stick with them and affect their future appearance and behavior? What will they remember about me?

Well, in this context, I hope that they remember that their skin is sacred and is meant only to be marred as according to God's design and not their own foolish, youthful whim.

And that's spoken as a forty-something parent of young children with a tattoo that he makes no effort to hide from them...

What a weekend! Anyone care to compare stories? OK - here's mine...

I awoke on Saturday to what I knew was a short weekend; just the two days that mere mortals are normally allowed lay before me. Best to make the most of them, I 'spose. I got up and started to arrange my materials; I had hundreds of board feet of wall accent in front of me, two cans of wood stain (which was of questionable age and quanitiy), a brush wrapped in aluminum foil, a television, a pair of shorts and 2 dogs who wanted to be near me -- anywhere but here.

Let's kick this pig.

As I'm busy organizing my workspace, (READ: clearing away the clutter), I hear a small squeak. not worried - as half the dog toys and 80% of the kid toys make a similar noise - I continue on. Until I feel a toe on my left foot being molested. Again, I'm not all that worried as things have been assaulting the lower tenth of my body from various angles for some time now. Old news, this.

But then I realize something; this is a new approach. I feel sharp bits - MOVING - along the toe-line and am able to place the squeaks in the same general location: my foot. Well, excuse me old chap, but I think at this particular instant I'll focus on my left foot, thank you very much...

Where I notice a very mangled, near-dead mouse suddenly taking a very keen interest in my toe. Namely by trying to climb onto it, at the very least. He might have been trying to attack me. He might have been trying to esacpe to higher ground. He might even have been completely out of his mind due to a total loss of blood and fur - we'll never know.

What I do know is that it kind of freaked me out for a second or two. I had too many cues to identify and was faced with the proposition of gathering a visual where it was pretty difficult.

Of course, it didn't help that the World's Dumbest Dog - a boxer mix with whom I share a mailing address - was also taking note of said mouse. And decided to attack just as the lesser animal was establishing base camp on the top of my foot.

Anyone out there want to know what it's like to have a mutilated, dying mouse climb up on their foot while their brain-dead dog suddenly decides to attack at that very moment on an otherwise quiet Saturday morning?

Well just imagine it yourself. I've already lived through it and have no desire to bring it up again. Now excuse me while I go count my toes and check for signs of froth...

I swear. If idiocy were a food, it would be cheese. Not that cheese - or enjoyment thereof - is a form of idiocy. Not by a long shot. It's just that cheese has so many flavors and variations of form and method of delivery. Just like idiocy. For example(s)...

rosie has apparently, and you all know how much I loathe and despise the celebrocracy - but since this is both telling and indicitive of a larger truth within that population and the leftists at large, I'm going to engage the argument on the ground from which its been waged, embraced jimmah carter as - and I quote - a "Christ-like figure."

Thereby publicly demonstrating her astonishing and willful ignorance of both of them.

And while its of little surprise that the leftists stroke each other on a daily basis because they firmly believe that a common belief in a progressive tax structure is enough to smooth over all their other differences, ("eat the rich" and what-not), it is AMAZING that anyone would hold up The Idiot carter in ANY regard, much less that of a Savior-ific nature.

Worse yet was the fact that Medved fielded calls from such idiots throughout his first hour and it was the scariest thing I've ever heard: never mind that we're just 130 days from the next Halloween -- I've already been scared to the point of wetting my BVDs over the facile idea that jimmah carter contained a single atom of goodness and that so many people out there believe it. But WHY?!? Because he SAYS he does? How in the world is THAT enough proof?!?

But that's how it goes, these days; if you say you're for the general good and that general good proves to be quotas for minorities and 'progressive' tax rates to punish the successful with the general notion of somehow, eventually aiding the less fortunate through promised programs promised to aid the less fortunate eventually, then the LSM will judge you to be one of the good guys.

Of course, if you waver in the least from the general blueprint then will be judged at best a "sell-out," or a traitor or at worst an "enemy to the cause." The language is familiar to anyone who cares to do the research, but why would we bother with that when American Idol is on?

This Lenny Bruce moment was brought to you by Lucky Strike cigarettes. LSMFT, right?

Everything else was courtesy of my sleep-deprived state. Thanks for your endurement through this week, this year and this blog. It's possible that one day your patience and perseverance will be rewarded. It's a free country, after all...

J.O.T.W...

Reminds me of an old Redd Foxx joke. Something about health nuts dying of nothing...

"I'm afraid, Mr. Evenkeel, I have both good and grim news for you," Doctor Smith said softly to his patient.

Evenkeel, who had been an eternal (albeit annoying) optimist most of his life, swallowed, then blinked in disbelief.

The kindly doctor interlaced his fingers, rechecked his medical charts and made a clucking noise. "I'll get right to the point, Mr. Evenkeel, you're going to die. You have weeks, perhaps only hours. It's time to set your affairs in order."

Evenkeel was astonished. "I don't understand. What disease do I have?"

"It's not just one thing. It's dozens," said the MD. "If you would have just taken better care of yourself, you could have lived another thirty or forty years. You made an endless series of tragic choices."

"But I've been so careful," said Evenkeel. "Ten years ago I even stopped eating fat and became a vegetarian."

"At that time," lamented the MD, "there might have been a chance for you to live at least a normal life span, however, by avoiding gooey animal fats, you have dug your own grave."

"What? All the authorities said low fat was the answer to a healthy heart," said Evenkeel, taking out a handkerchief and wiping away a bead of perspiration.

"We thought," said Dr. Smith, "that low fats were the key to longevity but we now know, that's nonsense. The Harvard Medical School just announced that men who eat buckets of fat escape early death. Gobs of saturated fats prevent strokes. It's all in this month's Journal of the American Medical Association."

"And because I forced myself to eat broccoli and raw cabbage for the last decade means I'm going to get a stroke?" asked Evenkeel.

"Oh, we can't blame one culprit," said Dr. Smith. "There were so many other things you did that contributed to your impending death. For example, exercise."

"It was wrong for me to run five miles a day after work?"

The doctor smiled. "I don't want to make a pun out of it, but in two words, the answer is 'dead wrong.' By galloping through the city streets you forced thousands of tons of polluted air into your system. Human beings are not capable of getting rid of so much pollution. You're filled with toxins."

"But I don't even drink alcohol," said Evenkeel.

"A pity," said the MD. " Medical science presently advocates an ounce or two of liquor a day to prolong your life. Now, I'm sad to say, it's too late for you. " Dr. Smith poured himself a brimming tumbler of Irish Whiskey and knocked it back. "I'd ask you to join me but it would just be a waste of fine medicine."

"The vitamins I took, surely they must have helped," said Evenkeel.

"No, it turns out that most of them did you more harm than good. A lot of them were simply slow-acting poisons. Many were imported from China where there are no regulations. Your biggest mistake was washing down all those vitamins with bottled water."

"How could pure bottled water hurt me?" asked Evenkeel, biting his knuckle.

"Pure water is good for you. Almost as good as vodka or whiskey." said the doctor. "But the only way to get pure water is out of your tap. Most bottled water wouldn't pass the city health inspector's tests. Don't you remember how dangerous Perrier turned out to be? It had French solvents in it that could melt your brain."

"I went to a health club almost every day," wailed Evenkeel.

"It was in the so-called health clubs you probably picked up the dozen deadly flu strains you're carrying. Think of it man, locking yourself in a roomful of sweating and mostly naked people, all inhaling each others' germs. It's a miracle you've lived this long."

"I went to such lengths to avoid disease. Why, I even stopped having sex," said Evenkeel. "I was terrified of AIDS."

"Ha. Ha. The joke's on you," said Dr. Smith. "According to recent research it's almost impossible to contract AIDS by having normal sex with someone of the opposite gender who is not in a high risk group."

"What am I to do?" asked Evenkeel. He pounded his head against the wall.

"Make sure your last will and testament is in order," said Dr. Smith. "And you have my deepest condolences. I'll miss you."

"You spoke of some good news," whispered Evenkeel, with faint hope.

"The good news is that my brother in this very building is a lawyer. He's got a special on wills. I'd shake hands with you but it's just too risky. Good-bye, Mr. Evenkeel."

Well isn't that always the way? I mean, you decide to simplify your life for just a single evening by concentrating your time and efforts on your much-neglected personal website - and ignoring your ego-stroking efforts at being published in the paper - only to have the technical gremlins rear their ugly heads at an hour so late that it's beyond hope to repair either site.

You guys know how that is, right? I mean -- we've all been there at one time or another...

No, of course not. It's just ANOTHER reminder that I'm still just the Jr VP of the AV club - only the way things are run now I'm not able to steal projectors to sell at a profit.

Well, the first half is true, at least. So I'm left too late to prepare a post for the newspaper and too tired to do any decent troubleshooting on the trouble at my site. What to do, what to do? Well, go to bed for once. It was the first decent night's sleep I can point to in many weeks. So I got THAT goin' for me.

Of course I'm sorry that things didn't work out and I was unable to post what I'd written, but as you can now read it below, you'll recognize that that's mostly a selfish desire. Most of you couldn't be bothered by what I had to say for yesterday, but that's OK because we're all about 'diversity' in this modern era of ours, right?

Oh - except for old, fat, white guys. I keep forgetting that we have no say in things because we've been oppressing the rest of the world for so long. Figures - just as I'm old enough to root around in the spoils of oppressing others it's denied me.

Just like yesterday, my luck kind of runs that way, I guess...

SOME ENCHANTED EVENING -- OTHER THAN THIS ONE..

We went to - those of you who have already read my other work will only find part of this familiar, I assure you - an 'exclusive' buyer's club this evening. We'd signed up for the full loaf and by George we were there for every slice. At least that's how it felt to me as I went through the whole thing.

I mean, they explained everything in their radio ads, then the assistant huckster sat down with us to explain it again. Then, we watched something like 43 years of video which explained it all to us again - but this time in digital form. At least they featured some eye candy, so the trip wasn't a complete waste.

Oh, wait; YES IT WAS! After explaining their business model ad nauseam, they wanted 5 large for the up-front membership fee, and they wanted it NOW! There were even 3 options as to how to pay: Cash, natch; one-third every 30 days for the next quarter (post-dated checks or a credit card number would seal the deal on this one); or you could finance your first 3 years over the next 6 (I'd give my left arm for a way to capitalize numbers at this moment) years.

Given our philosophy and where we've come and how far we've traveled from there, we naturally chose option #4: shake hands and walk away politely. It was probably the only course available to us, given the fact that those two PLUS years of paying our way out of debt taught us a few things:

The first and most obvious of those things is that if you can't pay cash, you can't afford it -- by definition. The interesting thing is that we could've paid the 5K upfront, but it would have pretty well wiped out our savings to the point that we'd be unable to buy the cabinets we went there for in the first place. Rather pointless, that.

Second, they've got their noses so far up the atmosphere that they seemed clueless to the fact that we'd be saving - by their accounts - up to 40% on cabinets that were at least 3 times as expensive as those at the retail outlets we've been shopping. Can someone here please run the math for me?

The third - but only in the order I've considered them and certainly not in their ability to shape psychological states - is the fact that you HAVE to decide at the end of the tour whether or not to become a member and fork over enough money to buy a 2001 Subaru. It's the classic maneuver of pitting scarcity against the human desire to belong, and I'm sure that many a fool has shelled out over double the 5K in credit card charges in an effort to be a part of the club.

Fortunately, clubs have always held little sway over me and "exclusive" clubs even less so: Why on earth would I want to admit to being a part of group of people so desperately seeking approval? As a result of turning down 'membership,' we're not welcome back in their showroom.

But you know what? They're no longer welcome at The Stonestead, either. And the best part of this whole transaction is that they wouldn't have been expected to open their wallet upon crossing the threshold here, as we would have been had we joined.

Let 'em buy their own derned steaks...

And fourth and finally: their membership structure is (nearly) thus: give them 5K today, over the next 3 months or over the next 6 years at 17% interest and you're a member. Then, your membership is guaranteed for the next 10 years, (it's that scarcity argument again; can't belong forever, mate -- new blood is needed, and at 5,000 dollars per letting), but after your initial buy-in, you're only expected to fork over 2 small per year. This averages out to be only

WAIT A MINUTE! 5,000 dollars for the first 36 months and only $1393 for the following 84 months? Does anyone else smell that? Sure when combined over the full 10 year run it amounts to less than $700 per year, but the weighting of the fee structure tells plenty about membership trends.

And that is that the vast majority of "members" decided to opt out within 3 years - or not renew their memberships after that period. But not us; we're in it for the long haul.

We didn't join at all...

OK: we've all had enough time off. Back to flippant commentary on very, very serious issues. At least until I have to hang it all up and go to bed...

In spite of my recent week off of work at the office, (which is to explicitly state that even though I have not gone into the office since last Wednesday - and only put more time on the clock as of yesterday morning, from home - that I have NOT been a man of leisure. But more on that later, maybe), I've kept my ear to the pulse of current events even as they've passed through today's modern 20 minute news cycle. And there's enough there to keep us busy for a very long time.

I'm not sure how many of you are aware of what's currently going on in Gaza, but I have at least a couple of known readers in mind who are probably up to speed. Then again, I've got a couple of you in mind as I turn to Google Earth in order to start to explain how the geography affects the history and how they together act to form the threat we're starting to see unfolding now.

The long and the short of it is that the Israelis have already conducted the experiment our homeland-bound democrats require of us: they have pulled a ruling, governing, military force from an arab-majority area, only to see it tumble into complete turmoil. Targeted genocide, odd rules of engagement, (to say the least), general mayhem, (capitalize those words and you have a comic book), splits among lines of religious beliefs and the vague acceptance of chaos under allah instead of order as a civilized class.

These are the things that have come about in Gaza, and these are exactly the things that would come to pass in Iraq should we abandon our ally now. So how 'bout it?

And I've heard some chatter out there that questions Iraq's status as one of our allies. Let me just ask this: what do you call a country who BEGS the U.S. to stay on their soil, continue to supply manpower and training and logistical support to their fledging government? Not to mention the fact that the new ruling class is urging us to help protect them against foreign, (iranian), forces? WHAT part of that sounds like an 'occupation' to you?!?

Make no mistake: Israel is our canary in the mine in this battle. What they do - and the results they see from those actions - will clearly light our path if only we're willing to listen. And Israel is headed for a serious confrontation with its enemies this summer. Let's see if surrender, capitulation and appeasement wins the day, shall we? And if not, let's try to take note of what keeps the guns the most quiet.

Every dime I have is on 'overwhelming response.'

Ahhh... . (If you catch my meaning, there.) I have finally reached my to-this-point apex, if you will: I've completed a significant portion of my part of the downstairs remodel, (pictures to follow if you're paying attention), by framing roughly 88% of the windows in the downstairs with immovable wood - which could either write the contract or spoil the deal, depending on which school of thought you tend to buy into.

The Wif, for her part, has spent her mid-midnight hours painting and finalizing the rooms in question. Between the two of us, things are really starting to come together. Except in a certain way that was best described today as a shopping list over the phone from Sam's:

"Be sure to get dog food, Atkins® shakes, bacon and chicken bleu balls," she said.

I assured her that I'd have no problem remembering at least ONE item on that list, and was able to fulfill the rest because I had a helper. Because the very reason I was in town in the first place was to take "M" to her play therapy.

It was interesting if only because it was interesting - and I'm not trying to be overly-coy here; I shared our concerns surrounding our daughter as she split the veil and when she returned - NOT having to be drug out by the ankle, I might add - many of those suspicions were confirmed.

We are experiencing the first traces of a 'yearning,' it would seem, and the results aren't all that we'd hope they would be. Further, "M's" desire to run the show has once again risen it's ugly face. Now, it's not that surprising to sit back and watch the boys' reactions and want to be a part of that; after all, their reactions are authentic and genuine and fun beyond all measure, (Also See the kids' picture page).

And they're laughing and smiling and entertaining the family and who wouldn't want to be a part of all that?

But being "a part of all that" is the difference between shopping at Sears and owning the store. The Wif and I know that we're only shopping - but will be aggressively shopping - while "M" tends to think - at this point - that she owns the store.

For better or worse, it falls to us to set her straight on that...

Just because this was The Best Father's Day Ever! I don't mean to offend anyone by spelling out exactly how that happened.

But I'm still going to share the details. That means that those of you out there still capable of viewing my other online contributions, (and as near as I can tell it's limited to a select number of you in a select building under a select Dood presence), are now formally asked to visit that other site first.

Because this is what you'd find there today...

I have to admit that this has been a Father's Day without equal in my life; if only because it marks the first time that June's third Sunday has passed without me receiving a card, "from the dogs."

That's right -- nary a trace of the dogs' involvement in my cards/gifts was spotted this year. Why, it's like they suddenly decided that - for whatever reason - they really were no longer my spawn afterall. And only because I refuse to chase squirrels with them, (as best I can tell).

Those ungrateful little...

So in an effort to separate myself from my dogs, I'd like to engage in some small amount of appreciation for those who have taught me. That is, I'd like to express my gratitude to the men who have shown me what it takes to be a Father - whether by explicit example or as cautionary tale...

First up is a mixed case study: my StepFather. Both marvelous and turbulent in his own time, I've finally come to grips with much of what he tried to teach me. I can best explain it to him by saying that we don't own a copy of "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" and have no plans to introduce such before 2025. And only then as a recollection for myself.

Following him is any number of Fathers, and the one that stands out is the Air Force Academy Graduate who was faced with sending both his sons to the AFA. Such a dilema does not happen by accident.

Somewhere in there is my Israeli Brother who has lived and suffered and decided to live again in a way that none of us will ever understand. Then enter the Father who decided to fully embrace his son's "two-ness." Then the Father who is vaguely aware that there are some small children in his life.

Eventually, if we traverse this spectrum, we will get to the guy who resents his kid(s) stifling effect on his lifestyle. Sure, it's a minority position, but it exists all the same. And I hesitate to describe it...

And I responded in a tone that would do Froggie proud.

All the same, she proved that her Beauty was just one of her qualities as she navigated my instruction, corrected same and waited most of an hour. She's WAY too smart to continue in my office, frankly. She has a street-sense that's unsurpassed by her fellow statesfolk.

I have a new appreciation of The Beautiful One, frankly. And She's FAR more than just being beautiful...

J.O.T.W...

Arizona Diary

May 15th: Now this is a state that knows how to live! Beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings. Mountains and deserts blended together. What a place! Watched the sunset from a park lying on a blanket. It was beautiful. I've finally found my home. I love it here.

June 14th: Really heating up. Got to 108 today. Not a problem. Live in an air-conditioned home, drive an air-conditioned car, work in an air-conditioned office. Sponsored Links

Phoenix Arizona TownhomesSearch Local Homes, Condos for Sale 48K+ Listings from Multiple Brokerswww.ZipRealty.com

Phoenix AttractionsUse Our Searchable Online Guide To Find 100s Of Phoenix Activities.Phoenix.CitySearch.com

Find Jobs in PhoenixFind Local Jobs in Phoenix. Post Your Resume Today - Free!Phoenix.Monster.com What a pleasure to see the sun every day like this. I'm turning into a real sun worshipper.

June 30th: Had the backyard landscaped with western plants today. Lots of cactus and rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing for me. Another scorcher today, but I love it here.

July 10th: The temperature hasn't been below 100 all week. How do people get used to this kind of heat? At least it's a dry heat. Getting used to it is taking longer than I expected.

July 15th: Fell asleep by the pool. Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my body. Missed two days of work; what a dumb thing to do. I learned my lesson though: got to respect the ol' sun in a climate like this.

July 25th: Dry heat, my butt. Hot is hot! The home air-conditioner is on the fritz and the A/C repairman charged $250 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order parts.

July 30th: Been sleeping outside by the pool for three nights now. $1,600 in damn house payments and we can't even go inside. Why did I ever come here?

August 4th: 115 degrees! Finally got the air-conditioner fixed today. It cost $1,200 and gets the temperature down to about 90. I hate this [expletive deleted] state.

August 8th: If another wise a** cracks, "Hot enough for you today?" I'm going to tear his [expletive deleted] throat out. Damn heat. By the time I get to work the radiator is boiling over, my clothes are soaking wet, and no deodorant works well enough!

August 10th: The weather report might as well be a damn recording: Hot and Sunny. It's been too hot to sleep for two damn months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week. Doesn't it ever rain in this barren damn desert? $1,700 worth of cactus just dried up and blew into the [expletive deleted] pool. Even a cactus can't live in this heat.

August 14th: Welcome to Hell! Temperature got to 120 today. Forgot to crack the window and blew the [expletive deleted] windshield out of the BMW. The installer came to fix it and said, "Hot enough for you today?" My wife had to spend the $1,600 house payment to bail me out of jail.

August 30th: Worst day of the damn summer. I'm not leaving the house. The [expletive deleted] monsoon rains finally came and all they did is to make it muggier than hell. The BMW is now floating somewhere in Mexico with its new $500 windshield. nobody told me about staying out of the washes during a "flash flood" warning. That does it. We're moving back to California and buying a house next to the freeway for some peace and quiet.

Wave it proudly, gents...

AND NOW - THE DIRECTOR'S CUT; WITH BONUS FOOTAGE..!

I was going to leave the entire day's post to what you see above; maybe take some time for myself this evening. But then I figured, why pass on the opportunity to completely tick off a large segment of my readership? After all - I've never let the chance slip by unnoticed before, and doing so now might create a dangerous precedent to which I'd forever feel bound.

Why, the very thought of doing so sent a 'chill wind' across my keyboard-perched knuckles. And if we've learned nothing else from the left (CHECK!) it's that those 'chill winds' must be addressed as if they were the Siren Song of global warming and all it's attendant, spook-tacular, certain signs of global doom.

Provided you're able to look past the mis-matched metaphor. But enough of these passively-worded paragraphs...

Speaking of Freedom and it's most meaningful symbol, I'd like to bring to your attention a particular Smith Barney ad that's currently running on a certain strain of talk radio. It's part of a larger series of ads -- the theme of which is, "you can talk to your financial advisor - provided he's one of ours - about anything going on in your life."

FINALLY! A truthful message about how EVERYthing is related to the free market. It's a welcome addition to the public sphere, except for one very big thing: The ad runs as follows:
(female voice): "we talk to our kids about everything; about sex and drugs... about not smoking but somehow..."

STOP TAPE! Did you catch that? They talk to their kids about sex. They talk to their kids about drugs. They talk to their kids - and I fully recognize that this is an imaginary scenario designed to appeal to the demographic they've decided to appeal to - about NOT smoking.

Well, the implications boggle the mind; They talk 'about' sex against the background of NOT smoking -- leading one to believe engaging in sexual acts so long as a cigarette wasn't involved would be OK, is a perfectly rational position.

They talk about drugs -- so long as we're not talking about nicotine. Because doing so - or engaging in the enjoyment of such would be wrong.

I had another, specific, point, but I think I'll hold it for later. After all, it's the dry powder that fires the straightest when times are tough.

And I feel the road growing and spreading beneath my feet and over my head all the same. So for now I'll yield the floor...

Well, the house we wanted is now under contract. I only wish it had been us that put in the offer...

Yes. We lost ANOTHER house to The Wif's analysis paralysis. She wasn't happy/sure about numbers that said selling our home for 270 - and buying a home for 270 - wouldn't significantly change our payment. Something fishy in there missed by those of us able to DO math, apparently. I swear, if her Fairy Godmother appeared and offered to magically place us in the home of our dreams in the absolutely perfect location The Wif would want to read the fine print on her Godmother's BVD's.

It's like being married to... oh, never mind.

I'd like to officially announce that I'm becoming frustrated with the whole thing. The whole "MOVE" thing. It's starting to wear on me in a number of ways that would take me weeks to explore and probably just as long to explain. But one thing's for sure: if The Wif ends up strangled somewhere, they'll put me under the jail before they ask a single question.

I know, I know; don't even joke about such things. Then again, I don't believe in jinxes. I don't believe in tempting fate. I have great Faith and as such I know that there's a plan in place for us. But I also know that sooner or later you've got to get your feet wet. Making an offer on a home you love might be just the thing to get the process started. Or at a minimum a decent start towards self-motivation at the work that needs to be done at home.

Now, I don't mean to bad mouth The Wif: I love her dearly and our marriage is not in any danger in any way. Please understand that. She's just so unsure of anything that she doesn't control completely that it paralyses her in a very scary way. In a few years the boys will break her of much of that, but not enough for when "M" tries to break her of it. It's a scary-bad future I fear I see...

As to the work that needs to be done at home, it seems to be mostly completed. Or at least it was. See, somewhere in the past someone decided to camouflage the errors of the basement construction - many and varied - by creating a false 'raised texture' on the very crooked walls. They did this by applying roughly 48 pounds of spackle to said walls and running through it so that a random pattern of thick, raised ridges were left behind. It was obnoxious on its very best day.

Sanding the walls was a good start, but they are so out of align and in spots 2 inches thick with joint compound that it would be impossible to get a level, flat surface without completely starting over. And then you've got to paint 'em. How do you do that and still maintain any level of household attractiveness?

Well, just leave it to Genius Brand® Husbands: You do a textured paint to add the illusion of texture to a wall already lousy with unwanted texture. It's another "math thing" where two negatives equal a positive. And it's going to work. Here's early proof; Same wall, different angles, same dust-specked lens:

BEFORE


AFTER

Throw that paint effect around the room, add some wood trim around the windows and the new, oak-stained doors and you're onto something. Hopefully $268K...

But here's the other - BIG - problem. The Wif says she's eager to move. She's even got me to that point - against all logic feelings to the contrary. We NEED to move into town; we need a yard and neighbors with kids and walks after dinner and place for a swimming pool or a run through the sprinklers when the sun bakes down on us.

But she's too afraid to make an offer on another place -- she's worried that we won't be able to sell this place. She's already planned on spending roughly four thousand dollars that we don't have - and untold hours of my time that I don't have - in making this place a $380K palace, (for which we'd accept $260K), towards making us homeless before she'd write paper on a new home.

We stand to "lose" many a home at this rate...

Worse yet, she treats showings as a huge burden; she'd rather re-schedule them (for WHEN, one wonders) than allow them to happen. I know from experience that taking all 3 kids on the road is quite a chore - so I can sympathize - but it's a rare buyer that plunks down a quarter million dollars without inspecting the merch.

But the crowning touch came tonight: She went to work and I worked from home. As soon as my shift ended I got to work downstairs. I finished the base coat that was lacking from the last third of the room and I got to work on the 'textured' paint, (see above). I finished a TON of the work and even got started on the wood trim. The Wif's reaction?

She waffled. She wavered. She eventually said it was "Fine" and then she headed upstairs. I immediately started painting over the 'texture' effect I'd added. I knew that was the problem if only because MY result didn't conform to HER vision of what was expected.

By way of example, look at the above pictures...

Just when you thought that our democrat-controlled Congress couldn't be bothered. Just when you thought that our democrat-controlled Congress had buried their collective heads... ... (straining not to write THAT) ... in the sand, (*WHEW*). Just when you thought that our democrat-controlled Congress was unwilling to confront the difficult issues, they give us this.

At last, the democrats get down to business and are addressing the serious issues that face this dangerous world on which we live. Not that I was worried about that or anything; I knew that once they'd seen to the important job of building the framework for the MOST! ETHICAL! CONGRESS! EVER! they'd be on soil firm enough to be a foothold against the really, REALLY big things.

And now, a visit from the Reality Fairy: (Waves wand) *POOF*

Give me a flippin' break, would ja'? The idiots running the show in Congress cannot WAIT to demonstrate their single-digit IQs and since rushing in front of the cameras and introducing brain-dead legislation are each a great way to do so, we're likely to see much of both. Like this so-called, "no confidence" vote that thankfully failed.

First off, the whole IDEA of a 'vote of no confidence' is - or rather was - meaningful only to Parliamentary systems of government. And by 'meaningful,' I mean it's a way to dissolve the current government. So it's a pretty serious thing.

FOR THOSE UNDER A PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT! Here in the States such a measure stacks up against the equally-meaningful Senate Resolution, "Kitties are fuzzy," (passed 3-2, with 5 absences and 90 abstentions. Because - even though in their heart they really like kitties, some of their wives are 'dog people' and most of the others feel they need to appear to be 'dog people' in order to preserve their macho reps with the peeps back home).

Sooooo... The Senate was unable to generate enough votes to bring to the floor a meaningless measure that would voice an opinion without weight about an issue on which they have little say and absolutely NO power.

Early word is that the united nations is going to sue on grounds of copyright infringement...

AN INTERESTING EXPERIENCE - THAT I'LL MISS...

You might notice a significant change in voice from that last post to this one. That's because there was a significant change in circumstance between then and here. And my circumstance shapes me in ways I really wish it wouldn't.

There. I said it...

Half-way through the previous story I realized that I had a HUGE duty to attend to: I had to unload The Wif's car. And I also realized that it was 10:40 PM. And that I'd HAVE to finish typing that thing, lest I leave off most of the drivel I planned to include.

It was a rather busy epiphany.

So I finished the section, then went down to gather my sandals and 'Rock Her World' in one of the rare ways she'd actually notice: putting her car back together. See, we needed moving boxes and she'd not only found them (on craigslist) but had arranged for me to go pick them up after work. I was in her car - lest the things fly out of the bed of my truck - and I arrived just 3 minutes past the agreed upon time.

Our host pointed me towards a rather large collection of boxes and I opened the 'hatch' on her car. BIG mistake.

I quickly discovered that her cargo area held: 6 bags of groceries, (including a pre-tubbed collection of turkey that's probably vulture chow), her Father's computer, a twin stroller, 2 umbrellas, the Maltese Falcon, Jimmy Hoffa's body and the Ark of the Covenant, (I was wondering where I left that!). I quickly moved things around and reconfigured the vehicle so as to accept the maximum number of flattened boxes with the minimum possibility of having one of them slide into the back of my head when I had to stop. (It's that whole red light thing again!)

Thanks to Tetris my success came easily, but I still had to unload it all at evens' end. Which I just did. And in doing so, I heard a rather strange sound coming from behind me. It sounded at first like I was eating potato chips or like someone was crunching leaves. Wrong season for the latter, I'm afraid.

But then I realized that the sound I heard was an animal eating dog food on the deck just above and behind me. My first thought was that it was the dumber of our dogs doing such, but then I remembered that he was inside and the door out would be closed because there's always the chance of ground squirrels sneaking in.

It might have been my dog, except for the fact that he was swirling about my legs at every step. No, this was an intruder's signature. He was eating whatever dog food he could find because he was unable to break into the 'vault' that is our dog food storage.

So I had a raccoon or a squirrel or a marmot on the deck above me. That's pretty cool, in the sense that I was interacting with nature on a one-on-one level. It's pretty un-cool once one considers that I was left without a gun or a knife in close proximity -- just in case the vermit in question decided to undermine my Top-of-The-Heap position by jumping onto my back in order to impress his girlfriend.

But I've grown used to these things. Why do you think I'd be without armament? Because I've learned how to navigate my way past such hazards in the dead of night. I've proved it before, and I proved it tonight.

Here's to hoping I remember at least that one skill as we move down into the burbs. It might come in handy later in life...

I. HATE. Painting.

I. HATE. Lawn work.

...

Care to guess WHAT I'm doing now that is sure to promise more of a certain something in the future?

On Saturday morning, we left the home bright-eyed and running-like-Hell in order to make the rest of the day fall into line. We had to leave BY 8:00 in order to have everything else fall into place. We were out by 8:12. Earliest we've ever been late, but then again I've learned to build in a day or two as "fudge factor" in these circumstances, so we were well within parameters.

We dropped off our 3 kids at Grandma's and picked up 2 of the 'Phews. As an Attention-to-time ratio, my folks lost on that deal. But as a Pound-Per-Meal ratio, they made out like bandits.

After meeting up with my Property Guy, (PG), and viewing 4 houses we were not only mostly concluded on our new residence but headed towards home with a vision and a purpose. But not before a stop at our favorite orange-themed, big-box, renovation hotspot. We even picked up lunch on our way out.

I swear - they have EVERYTHING!

Once here, MonkeyFace proved himself essential to our project; he sanded, he carried, he cut - he was always looking for something else to do. Sarge - on the other hand - asked for food, tried to negotiate a $100 price before he did a single thing, (which was about the sum total of his contribution to the project), disappeared upstairs to watch TV and then badgered me for chocolate.

Frankly, I feel the same way. But somewhere along the line I learned to fight these urges, (November 9^th, 1998). He has not yet learned this.

I'm trying to help him - although I expect him not to recognize this. I paid him $5 for roughly eighteen minutes of work in 5 hours. It was an offer of overly-generous proportions that I would not have made had he not been family.

On the other hand, my paragraphs here are getting shorter due to my newspaper submissions. Watch the headlines closely!

...

On the other hand, MonkeyFace worked his tail off. He didn't try to negotiate a price beforehand and even announced that he'd "help and get paid whatever." I ended up giving him $25 and felt it to be underly-generous to a point that it was a learning opportunity: your brother got 5 for showing up; you got 5 times that for doing the work.

Good for you and Tally-Ho and what-all. But if I'd paid him for what he was worth, he might have decided on an early retirement right then and there, and nobody wants that. Besides, learning that he's a better worker than his brother comes as no surprise to this kid, so I can only hope that the vast discrepancy between their pay only further reinforces the point.

Because THAT was the point in the first place...

AS for what might be our new home, it was once on the frontier of civilization - ground upon which I'm comfortable - but is completely engulfed by 'neighborhood' now. A decent lot by suburb standards - complete with rec area, loafing/grilling area, a hidden nook leading to a storage/workshop, (that The Wif - unfortunately - now knows about). Four big bedrooms - including the Master Suite - upstairs. Second level living, but the Master faces North. But the Master faces the street.

Something that will have to be worked out through experience, no doubt.

It's bank-owned, so we had to bring our flashlights to fully experience the basement, but there's a TON of room down there. I could have a Media Room and a Game Room, (complete with a Proper Pinball machine), and still leave space in which to hide when it means the most to me. Provided I get into the basement and build the false wall before the electricity is turned back on.

As for the location, I'm calling upon the collective memory of myself and Dood. Nothing else serves the area as well...

OK - Remember the pool that got me into so much trouble? It was that indoor deal where just a few years later I developed MY ERoSive reflux. (That was included for the rest of you who can use Google: Dood didn't need the reminder. (And he's getting tired of being the foil in all of this, probably.)) From there, go north to the next major street, and then west to the next major light.

I think there are 4 lights between there and there now, but as I recall there was ONE new light in our path as I became legal behind the wheel and traveled that range. At any rate, there's a 'Gulp-N-Blow' on the NE corner with which we're familiar in a passing way.

If things go as planned, my daughter will be biking there with her friends to buy Slushees. But only after being fitted with the Sub-Q GPS, online tracking chip...

Things here are starting to get weird, frankly; The wif is either in a state of sleep or in a state of expended-animation, as near as I can tell. On Wednesday she viewed 7 houses in 4 hours and came away with 2 strong possibilities. I have added a third, much further west and therefore closer to my old neighborhood while being in range of a person standing on Mrs. Dood's former deck, looking into the sunset, closing their eyes, chucking a rock in the general direction of said sunset and they're likely to break a window -- but still short of The Wif's expectations - if only because I'm the one who recommended it.

(Look - we can argue theory here or we can admit the truth of the matter. And the truth of the matter is that even as well as I know the area into which we're about to move, I'll always know more about the landscape than I'm able to reveal. A fact which I severely HATE. But we'll have a lawn or two and I'll have to buy a mower and buy/maintain a sprinkler system, so I'll suffer penance all the same.)

We still have TONS of work to be done and I can't find even a spare 20 minutes in my schedule in which to get started; sanding, painting, removing the old and preparing - much less installing - the new... It's a rather daunting task, overall.

And as my age gets more and more of a vote, I've become the Anti-Dood: He wants warmth, I want cool. He seems to rely on structure, whereas I'd LOVE to just let my boys run wild - in a somewhat controlled environment. At a certain level he seems to have structured his life to avoid pain whereas I seem to thrive on it.

That's probably why he's been my Best Friend for 3 decades: if we were any more like one-another we'd probably be mortal enemies.

NOT that this was the point of this post, but I need to wrap this thing up somehow...

J.O.T.W...

A man and his wife walked into a dentist's office. The man said to the dentist, "Doctor, I'm in a big hurry!" I have two buddies sitting out in my car waiting for us to go play golf." So forget about the anesthetic and just pull the tooth and be done with it -- I don't have time to wait for the anesthetic to work!

The dentist thought to himself, "My goodness--this sure is a very brave man, asking me to pull his tooth without using anything to kill the pain."

So the dentist asked him, "Which tooth is it, sir?"

The man turned to his wife and said, "Open your mouth, Honey, and show the doctor which tooth hurts."

With special thanks to a co-worker and just because - you know - it's almost time for such sentiment...

I'd like to offer my most sincere congratulations to the national education association. Yes, really. (I was actually going to cook up some sort of an original award and give the presentation with much more flourish, but the mere thought of doing so made me want to heave - such is my love of award shows.) I hear you; I know what you're saying. "Exactly how cold IS Hell today?" and you're right to do so given what you've just read.

But that's why this post is longer than a single paragraph. Read on...

Today Medved had on the author of an interesting new book that I intend to buy and will have time to read sometime around July 25, 2018 (from 11:44AM to 12:36PM). As the title implies, it's an explanation of many social trends and economic activity from a free market perspective. It's basically an explanation - and praise - of free markets.

I have to admit to a certain bias of which I'm sure most of you are already aware: I'm completely Ga-Ga for free markets and absolutely loathe collectivism. I rather like the idea of Adam Smith's "invisible hand" and enjoy the thought of said hand smacking karl marx across his fat, smug face. I put my trust in my fellow man long before I do the gubermint. (My opinion on my fellow man is equally well known here, so draw your own conclusions as to my opinion of "my" gubermint.)

This sort of book is long overdue. It's something that's desperately needed, as witnessed by the phone calls to the radio show today. A larger group of ignorant fools would be difficult to imagine without suffering a brain tumor. One caller insisted that, since he's always found there to be gasoline available when he goes to fill his car, there's no way they can claim there's a diminished supply of the stuff. Clearly this guy is the only thing in his world.

Another claimed that the US oil companies - since there are now only 2 or 3 of them where years ago there were many more - are manipulating world oil prices. Now, if there are fewer US oil companies now, how do they then have greater power over the world oil market? The TOTAL US 'domination' of the world oil supply amounts to about 6%. Guess that's a ruling majority in this guy's world.

And on and on they went; caller after caller with crazy theory after crazy theory all based on nothing more than a complete misunderstanding/ignorance of how markets work. Calls of, "they're keeping prices artificially high so they can profit" were met with the question, "then why isn't gasoline always FIVE dollars a gallon?" And the callers - unable to even think outside of the brainwashing they'd received through public schools - either balked, hung up or avoided the question entirely.

So Congratulations to the nea: your years of tireless work in the field of increasing your own pay and decreasing the number of class hours have paid off! You've produced entire generations of people so ill-informed, so bloody ignorant of how the world works that they're desperate to find someone to reassure them that everything's going to be OK, pat them on the head and give them a lolly.

And they're so happy to have it explained away that they'll gladly vote to give more of their own money on every school bond they can. Dumbing down our children just might be the best business plan this country has ever seen...

THIS HOUSE THING (AGAIN)...

This was a rare Wednesday, indeed: both The Wif and myself were in the same building - other than our home - for several hours this morning. And that NEVER happens anymore. Where once we carpooled down the hill - much to the risk of our marriage, (I think I've documented several examples along the way), we now take turns. On those days it's required of me, I drive down to the office, but on the two days I work from home, that's when The Wif decided she'd go to work.

Now, as a healthy adult with a healthy outlook on such things, I've chosen NOT to be offended by her doing so. It would be easy enough to scream out in a genuine feeling of having been sleighted, but I'd rather put it all together and come out on the other side sure of My Wif's motives to share the rather sizable job of raising these monsters, rather than believing that she's trying to get away from me.

Proof to the contrary gleefully ignored...

But The Wif had to make up some time in the office in advance of her being gone today. So she put in 5 of her normal 7 hours today instead of tomorrow. And how did she spend the remnant of her afternoon? Looking at houses, natch.

She saw 7 houses in 4 hours; a record for land-speed in ANY Wif's case, but especially so in hers. She came away with a very strong impression about 2 of those, and drew floorplans and showed me pics of them. My reaction? "Sure. Make an offer -- but only after we've seen this one I really like. After we've seen it you can discard it."

It's along the lines of, "we'll hang you after a fair trial," I know. But I still insist on the trial all the same...

This seems too appropriate on at least a couple of levels for today:

"We will always remember. We will always be proud. We will always be prepared, so we may always be free."

That was the great Ronald Reagan on the importance of this day; this 63^rd annual remembrance of the invasion of Normandy. Or - as it's commonly known - "D-Day."

That's right, it may come as a surprise to many of the "younger generation" that D-Day was something more than just a genial motorcycle-riding tough who was loosely affiliated with an out of control fraternity.

D-Day started as a date. It became a world-altering event. And now it's History. The brave men who exited those ships and scaled those cliffs had drive and a purpose. And our men and women in Iraq today have rightfully inherited - and are displaying - both. I'm finding that the U.S. Military is one of those eternal, unchangeable, forces in the world: they are now as they always have been, at their core.

Sure, better trained and better prepared, better able to use technology and better equipped. But as human beings - and especially given their willingness to jump into the breech on our behalf - that much is unchanged.

I only wish the American Beneficiary would have remained so committed and unchanged in these last six decades, but there it is...

So rejoice in your proud history this day, American Soldiers. Remember that time all that time ago when you had the support of the folks back home, and dream of a time it'll happen again.

Because it will. Your war will eventually be acknowledged. And maybe even respected, if guys like me have anything to say about it. Not that I'm your last, best hope or anything like it.

I just SO wish it so. And Google's on my side on this one...

If nothing else, the democrat Presidential debates are certainly a source of great amusement. And believe me, there is nothing else to them; john edwards' mousse has more substance. The way all 37 candidates trip over themselves in their rush to be further left than the others reminds me of an old Keystone Kops routine. All of their routines, actually, since they were all pretty much the same. Just like the field of democrat hopefuls.

(Half the class is hereby excused - unless you suspect a kid story might follow...)

But they're amusing in a rather pathetic way. They all say we should pull out of Iraq in order to concentrate on Afghanistan, (do you hear that military families? You guys are too weak and puny to handle action in two different theaters), they talk of 'building our reputation' in the 'world community' and the importance of diplomacy. How that puts arses in the seats is beyond me, but I'd like to make a couple of points about all this:

Has none of these doorknobs bothered to take note of the fact that Iraq is now our ALLY?!? How about - if our rep is so tarnished - explaining the new, PRO-U.S. President of france?!? (They're much closer to earning their capital 'F' BTW) And can we get past the leftist/simpleton notions and think about how saying we're going to abandon our Iraqi allies will affect our future international relations? Will ANYbody trust us if we pull out of Iraq now?

How about this: the dems say we need to understand those who hate us; that we have to 'dialog' with people who want to kill us - show them that we're good people and that will cure the problem. Now, wasn't that what happened on the Virginia Tech campus? Didn't they identify a problem, engage him in dialog, make special accommodations for him, get him professional help and he STILL went on his murderous rampage? Is it possible that maybe it's IMPOSSIBLE to reason with evil, insane people bent on your destruction?

Of course the dem talking points are just mindless and meaningless platitudes and like all platitudes they break down fairly quickly under logic's weight. I don't mean to help the (political) enemy here, but if they'd only recognize that there is real, true evil out there in the big bad world, they might clear up their thinking...

SOMETIMES THE TRUTH HURTS...

Watching, (or listening to the clips the next day), these debates has driven home a rather painful reality for me: I will never be President of the United States. Mainly because I would never survive being a candidate for President. Because when pretty boy (I'm not referring to Bill Richardson, BTW) stands there criticizing clinton or obama's votes in the Senate, if I were up there I would have said, "well john-boy, what was YOUR vote on th... Oh, yeah; you didn't get to vote because you couldn't keep your Senate seat, you one-termer! Now go back to your 23,000 square foot shack, lather, rinse, repeat and leave the campaign to those of us still playing in the game!"

He really is pathetic. And pathetic doesn't even come close but I don't want to put the F-bomb at the front of it on this family-friendly website. He's trying to be the Anti-Bush like the rest of them but he's tying himself into knots while doing it. He rejects the idea of a 'Global War On Terror' but then says that as President he would do everything he could to identify and stop terrorists where ever they are around the world.

I'll leave you to figure out what to call such an effort...

A LONG, INTERESTING DAY...

Well. THAT was interesting...

The day started out with some light ribbing from Dood, (RE: lawnmower purchace), and an email from The Wif pointing out a near-perfect, if only far too north, home for sale well within our price range. It had everything - a scant 3,000 square feet, vaulted ceilings, 50 yards from a golf course, 6 (Yes! 6!) bedrooms - except it was 22 blocks north of our 'upper limit.'

Well, I've said from the beginning that 80th was as far north as I wanted to go, but something special could pull me across that line, and this was something special indeed; RV garage, (the first place we've seriously considered where my truck would fit indoors), it was (still is, actually), a tri-level with a basement, 3 miles from my Nephews and only 4 and a half miles from Water World. What could be the problem?

Half-way through my morning The Wif called to tell me she'd driven by the place and it was N-I-C-E. Corner lot on a lesser traveled street in a great neighborhood. And only $249,900! Where's the problem?!?

I thought it over; a home within walking distance of a teaching golf course with more holes than the entirety of my sock drawer. Of course, I hadn't seen the place - heck, I'd only learned of its existence a couple of hours earlier - but the online shots were fantastic. Plus, it was a foreclosure, and at that price they were obviously ready to be rid of it. Hmmm...

I text'd The Wif. No response. I wait a reasonable time (4 minutes) before I call her. Had the "what would you think if..." conversation as she was changing poopy diapers in a bathroom stall in Wendy's, (she gets ALL the glamorous work), then I call our realtor.

"Make the offer. Full price. The MLS is..." I walked away not sure if I were buying a home or ordering a hit. Felt kinda the same, as best I can tell.

Even after authorizing the action, The Wif got a bit jumpy. She called back - in traffic - to make sure that I'd told our guy to include every possible ejection button. I had. Everything was in place and ready to go. Provided nobody beats us to it - a rather sizable assumption, I'll admit - we're moving!

I shared the online shots with friends and co-workers; many OOOH's and AAAH's to be had. And at THAT price! Heck - I'd all but picked out my lawnmower...

Only to learn that a clerk at a realty office had fat-fingered that day's price adjustment: it wasn't priced at $249,999. Oh, no. It was actually priced at $349,900. Just out of our reach even if we get every dime we're asking out of this place. But what's a hundred grand between friends, right? Heck - their phones were probably ringing off the hook all day on that one.

Serves 'em right for dashing my hopes like that.

Oh, and then there was the little issue of a showing this evening. Normally a welcome event, but this place is under serious construction; sawdust, unfinished walls, un-trimmed windows and doors - everything except plumber's crack. These people actually wanted to see the place on Sunday, (between 2 and 4), but I balked because of it being nap time and the general state of the place. But my guy called and said these people - first time home buyers - are very eager to see our home and are pestering their gal to pester our guy to our home.

They didn't care about the state of the place or even that we might be here; they wanted to see it. You don't turn a blind eye to that sort of attitude, so we met at a local, mountain-themed pizza joint for dinner during the showing.

It was kid's night, complete with an all-you-can-eat buffet and a balloon artist. I can only hope the showing went as well as dinner did...

Ok - it's either too late or I'm too lazy or there are too many topics on the plate for me to separate them all out under individual "headlines." However, I don't feel this to be a real problem because I've never once received a single email feedback telling me that I've been unclear as to which topic I was addressing; only feedback in dismay at the incomprehensive nature of something I've said regarding the overly-clear topic.

Besides, I'm leaning more and more towards a narrative format - as opposed to the topical one suggested by the individual headlines. I'd ask for your input, but when did I last hear from you? I mean, seriously; your Mother and I are worried sick. Have you found work? Do you have a "special someone" in your life yet? Honestly, how much longer will we have to wait to become Grandparents? Are you warm enough? Should I send your sweater, or would you just leave it on the bus?

...

Cold and wet up here today. Seriously so. I was home with the kids while The Wif ran off to such exotic locales as 'Longmont' and her parent's home. This was because she - and GET THIS - went up to connect their new computer. I know the irony is almost overwhelming, but at the end of the day and after several calls to me during pre-nap time, she got it done. yeah.

But that doesn't change the fact that I expected snow at any time. It wouldn't be a first or the latest - if you catch my meaning - and it would not have been a surprise. Especially the way things have been going for us lately.

Speaking of which, I suspect that I'm about to start beating some of you over the head with news and stories about our home sale and move. It is for that reason that I've been decidedly restrained about such. All the same, please understand that this is a major factor in my life and it's pretty much my life that ends up on this page. So you're very likely to hear much more about it as we move forward from this date and until the whole thing's finished.

Like now, for instance...

I guess you could say that my former attitude was one of general acceptance; I coped with what I saw as the worst-case scenario of moving down to the 'burbs because in a general sense I felt that maybe it might be a positive turn for my family. Kinda.

But now I've come full-circle: I know what my family needs, and that's a house in the burbs with a yard small enough to be completely viewed from the kitchen window, where screams happen close enough to actually be heard and responded to. I still cannot imagine myself as a suburban Dad, but I'll adapt. I always adapt. I always have.

Besides, it might be nice to go to sleep knowing that the most vicious animal outside our home is that squirrel on that one tree that doesn't quite look right; always running in circles to the left and just a bit too quick to back up the tree trunk...

So you could say - rightly - that I've embraced our move into town. Even to the extent that "M" and I went out on Friday and spent over $250 at her favorite store - Home Depot - on doors, sanding blocks, trim, wainscoting and sandpaper for the lower level of our home. I figure that a couple hundred dollars and some elbow grease in this area will yield the best results on our investment. Later, we'll move onto kitchen cabinets as we have the cash at hand.

Eventually we'll save up enough to do the lower cabinets, the sink and the counters. Along the way we'll paint the kids' rooms and repair the ceiling over the fireplace. We'll have this place looking so good The Wif won't want to leave it.

With any luck, maybe...

Just so I know, I have to ask: do carnivals have shooting galleries any more? I remember my 1st grade carnival had a nail-pounding contest, (perfectly natural, one would suspect from a newly-constructed school building - find the best construction workers,) and that's pretty close, but it still lacks the flair that comes from a single word with which I want my children perfectly comfortable: "GUN."

Either as a tool for driving nails or as a tool for shooting rows of ducks. Maybe that'll be MY booth at the school fair in 2011. Just to watch them all twitch at D-Man's deadly accuracy...

From the news files, a story about our favorite subject and how I opened this post - global warming. No, no - this is something you need to know, rather than just the voice of one screaming in the mountainness. So you can either read the whole thing here, or you can rely on my blood-blog-brother - The Lumberjack (provided I haven't overstepped my bounds in calling him that), for a comprehensive analysis.

I suggest the latter...

I had an interesting, ongoing exchange with a Father from - Oregon, I think - today. The conversation was such that he announced he was a registered independent and the best reason I have to believe him is that he was friendly and (seemingly) honest and completely civil. Qualities that are, well - let's just say lacking from those further out on the other end of the political spectrum.

Which was proven, to my mind, by his own daughter - featured - who seems to occupy that space even at the tender age of 13. A point she tried to make musically that I commented on at his youtube posting, only to have the comment deleted.

But then again, I'm writing as if you've been sitting over my shoulder the whole time. Please allow me to back up a bit...

Within my online community, (and I've been really, really slack in posting that list here. Mostly because I know you regular readers couldn't be buggered to pay attention to the same things I do - no matter the level of quality), The Lumberjack plays a pretty important role; he has his finger on the pulse-point where I'd like to place MY finger, frankly, and he always beats me to it. Which is pretty cool so far as burden-lightening goes. So make it a point to read him and comment.

So he pointed me, (Do you know how to mute your speakers? Do so now), to this video on global warming and I did what I do: I commented.

As it turns out, my comment never appeared; it was deleted by the web host. I left another, more personally-oriented comment for the web host and it never appeared either. Instead, I got notice of an email from the video's poster. He was asking me not to call names of the 13 year olds in question. I should - he argued - rise above such impulses.

Of course, if you've seen the video you know that at one point in the "song" the two twits in question use the phrase, "Bush is an IDIOT!" The Father explained that one away by saying that his daughter said it was supposed to be a "punk" song and that she could not otherwise express her "frustration" with The President.

Yes, the contradiction is heavy enough to sink an Aircraft Carrier, 2 Frigates and 18 Support Vessels. If only they knew what those were...

But during our conversation, he was - as I've already said - reasonable and even open to reason. He yielded a point here and there and stuck strongly to others. But he failed to explain why it's OK for his daughter to yell - in a public forum - that the President is an "idiot," and further that it's perfectly OK for him to post that to the Nation's most popular video website - but that it's not acceptable to allow criticism of that viewpoint in the comments section of the very same website!

In the best of worlds, opinions and ideas enter the ebb and flow of the common consciousness and they are debated in open forum. Since that's not achievable, the next best thing is the common flow of opinion we see in the blogOsphere; we link, we read and we decide. And then we comment. THAT is the way of this century.

And one guy who hopes to post his kid's In-Stead video, (and one hopes that they'll further experiment in the "Les Paul Range" in the future) and escape critical analysis is foolishly mistaken.

(I should note that after, like, 900 views of his daughter's video - that he voluntarily allowed two (2!) comments to make it through. That's this guy's idea of fair. It doesn't matter that Australia is now familiar with the "song." It doesn't matter that the Northern quadrant is familiar with his daughter's work. Nothing else matters, because his daughter is somehow involved.) Even though some of us call that "neglect" he's free to chase that rabbit.

J.O.T.W...

And in light of those among you who recognize the Hillbilly nephew from the pics page...

Two Indians and a Tennessee Hillbilly were walking through the woods. All of a sudden one of the Indians ran up a hill to the mouth of a small cave. "Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" he called into the cave and listened closely until he heard an answering, "Wooooo! Wooooo! Woooooo! He then tore off his clothes and ran into the cave.

The Hillbilly was puzzled and asked the remaining Indian what it was all about. "Was the other Indian crazy or what?"

The Indian replied "No, It is our custom during mating season when Indian men see cave, they holler 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!' into the opening. If they get an answer back, it means there's a beautiful squaw in there waiting for us."

Just then they came upon another cave. The second Indian ran up to the cave, stopped, and hollered, "Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" Immediately, there was the answer. "Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" from deep inside.He also tore off his clothes and ran into the opening.

The Hillbilly wandered around in the woods alone for a while, and then spied a third large cave. As he looked in amazement at the size of the huge opening, he was thinking, "Hoo, man! Look at the size of this cave! It is bigger than those the Indians found. There must be some really big, fine women in this cave!"

He stood in front of the opening and hollered with all his might; "Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!"

Like the others, he then heard an answering call, "WOOOOOOOOO, WOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOOOOO!"

With a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face, he raced into the cave, tearing off his clothes as he ran. The following day, the headline of the local newspaper read:

NAKED HILLBILLY RUN OVER BY TRAIN!!!

Yeah, it's no way to start a month, but it's all I got at the moment...