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This krep was posted:

Octember 2007
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Same guy, different krep...
Father Knows
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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.

Oh - before I forget the whole thing - Happy Halloween to y'all. Get out there and enjoy it, already.

30 ½ inches. It's important for reasons I'll address in a moment. First...

I need a stamp. And how lame is my life that I have to say that outloud? I mean, in days gone by we all had stamps in every nook and cranny of our lives; we had a book of those bad boys at the office, several at home and some loose ones in our pockets. Of course, that last group didn't fare too well given the extremes of that environment, but we were able to place our mitts on a pre-glued pic of Lady Liberty fairly easily all the same.

But when you flash forward into modern times you quickly realize that stamps are no longer a way of life; online banking and billpay have created a world where stamps are less than an afterthought: They're an absolute joke.

Except when you encounter those arcane systems out there that require signed wood pulp in an envelope due on a certain day via the partial-gubermint postal system. Which means that you need a stamp. Suddenly the idea of a money-laden square inch of sticky patriotica makes a certain amount of sense. In the 'sense' that it shouldn't...

Which is to say:

All that was filler so that I might calm down before addressing the more serious emergency in my life. Which is to say that we once had twice as many working TVs and satellite drops as the number of people who inhabited this home. We had televisions in every room we might pass through, with few exceptions, (the bathroom being one). I could walk from room to room and even level to level missing nary a word of whatever I was watching. Indeed, I was completely invested in my media of choice.

But as always happens, things change and electronics set out to prove their own failings. A 13" TV failed in the kitchen and it was replaced with my portable DVD viewer because it had "input" slots. Shortly after that, the identical 13" model we bought for The Wif's folks died as well, and they sent it back to me with her. (My question at that point was, "what the Hell am I going to do with it? Buy them their own 7" DVD player? Besides, their home is so full of useless crap that the pool table can barely be identified in the room it inhabits; why couldn't they forge some plan for its disposal?)

(Oh, yeah. The have no knowledge of the abilities of the trash collection people. Thanks for the reminder.)

So we had roughly 4 old, dead or dying televisions to get rid of. I called a guy, (could be Italian - his name ended in a vowel) and he hauled them and some other junk away for a mere $75 American. Fair dinkum...

Well, it didn't take long for the 27" set with the interesting history (if I haven't told the story please let me know; I think it's somewhat amusing) to feign death and be in need of replacement. No problem - I'll just send in the 19" TV/VCR combo that I bought The Wif for her birthday about 6 years ago. It spent some time in service when our bedroom was upstairs, but had gone unused due to a lack of connection point in our new bedroom - downstairs. It should be up to the task.

It performed fine for a number of months and until Binky was vertically mobile. Then it started suffering a certain level of abuse from which it tonight seemed unable to recover; the tape wouldn't eject and since that was the unit's Prime Directive, it decided to shut down instead. Frustrating doesn't START to cover it.

But the 27" set seemed to be responding to power, so I swapped them out - AGAIN. And after roughly 27 minutes, the problem with the set became clear: the heat of the operation was shutting off power at a crucial point in the system. But having the answer doesn't mean that I had the solution, so I brought up our last "working" TV from the basement. It's a 20" model that's 1.4 times as old as its diagonal measure, (it was an election year).

The kids loved the progression: "TEE-V" The Binkster cried. "TV, Daddy," I heard from D-Man. "What's Daddy going to do with that TV?" "M" asked. The answer was the same for everyone but not my final answer. Because when the 27" shut down - and after I was sure the boys were asleep in their beds - I carried it out onto the deck and threw it into the bed of my truck.

I didn't hear the glass break and crackle as I thought I would, so that was disappointing. But aside from that? Throwing that thing down a distance of at least 12 feet to its death pretty well set the rest of the world right, in my eyes.

So now I'm off to buy a new TV or 3. I'm not yet in a place where I can get the HD projector I'll eventually end up with - namely because I don't want to be put in the position of having to leave it to whomever buys our home - but I'll get there. For now I'm just looking for something that's no wider than 30 ½ inches...

I'm starting to notice certain interests and inclinations that seem to be hard-wired into our kids. I know that all parents go through this - All parents who pay even the least bit of attention to their kids, that is - and I imagine it's at least as much fun for them as it is for me.

One area of my kids' awareness that really piques my interest as well is that of astronomy. Nothing interests me so much as watching the skies and seeing the new patterns roll in as they push the old patterns out the window. In case you haven't noticed, the skies DANCE, my friend. And if this were a decade or more ago, I'd say it's a riverdance. Except for the fact that that would be really, really, gay.

(Angry emails? I delete 'em for breakfast. Bring it on...)

So what's the truth and what's happening here? Well, I've always believed that the bestest way to learn something is to start with the familar and then expand into the unknown. I think that's some form of the "scientific method" that I learned in school, but do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been in school? I'm 41 years old, for Pete's sake! I'd only have a familiarity with college hallways if I were a doctorate student, which I'm not.

At any rate...

My older 2 kids are now moon-aware and The Binkster is at least half-way onboard. This means that they will HAVE to become seasonally-aware as time progresses. It's a natural match for obvious reasons, (providing you're moon-aware). From there, the realization that a moon sighting in the evening means first-quarter and a moon sighting in the morning means last-quarter follows naturally. An understanding of the seasons and the night sky is next.

Like anything else, it's a cycle and it has to be recognized as such. Scorpio=Summer and Orion=Winter, for example. Stuff like that.

Your milage may vary depending upon how late you stay up to gaze at the stars.

As for me, I'm at least an hour behind my stated schedule for the evening...

OK. This will have to be short because my candle is already burning tomorrow's wax. My weekend was filled with All Things My Daughter, and not just because she made it so: it was due to her birthday party, the fact that I had planned exactly .001768% of it and I'm the only one in this home that can move the couch without sustaining serious physical injury.

And the couch HAD to be moved...

(I just realized that I've been rather fluid with my rhetorical devices - mostly my ellipses - and find myself wondering about my future should I manage to corral each device/theme in their proper place. Thankfully, my subjective clauses are as fertile as ever.)

But it's now been moved and re-placed (the hyphen matters, people!) and The Wif is snoring away on it as I type. Good for her. As it stands, the rest of the house could still do with a lick and a promise and should get it today.

The breakdown? 12 kids, 9 adults, 1 part-time adult, 55 bagel-bites, 40 Hebrew National NON-pigs in blankets, 1.8 liters of Pepsi, .26 liters of Sprite and (eventually) 3 dumpings of our bagless vac later, And that's a party!

But it's a party of a new sort, and I'm not sure I'm completely happy about it. It's a new crowd - in many ways - and a part of me fears being left behind by the "old" crowd. Sure things change and time marches and relationships evolve and bread rises and pies set -- but there's something to be said about the friendships you feel like you're abandoning. Otherwise, what would be the point?

So I'm sending out a call now. If you think I'm neglecting you, feel free to slap me via the forum of your choice and I'll call it Ice Cream. And then I'll go about the business of taking every step to restore that relationship. Because I was reminded today by my Israeli Brother that I need strong people in my life. So let's go do something...

...But I don't want to jinx it. So I'll only say that "contracts" are involved.

Other good news: I was wrong! We had another showing this evening. Maybe things could yet happen that I haven't forseen.

Other good news: I have affixed door knobs to each of the new doors currently mounted to cabinets in our kitchen. 20 minutes of work that looks like a million dollars.

More good news: Even though the initial paperwork was incomplete and contained some errors, we're much closer to having 3 completed packets than we were 6 weeks ago.

Side news: I don't want to jinx that, either.

General good news: It's Friday! (Not that I want to jinx it)...

Best news of all: I've finished this section. For now. Not that... eh, you get the idea. I hope.

J.O.T.W...

Let's get started with something that amused me for dozens of minutes, with dozens more in store: This link will lead you to a rather unique game of online hangman. You'll be better able to guess the words if you remember the theme. Fortunately, a talking, sarcastic skeleton should be enough reminder of the theme to keep you on track.

(Hat Tip to well-known raconteur/ranter Dood.)

From the headlines:

Jeffrey J. Pyrcioch, 19, and an alleged accomplice were arrested in West Lafayette, Ind., in May on theft and fraud charges. Pyrcioch allegedly cashed checks that he had written with disappearing ink, apparently believing the checks would be blank by the time they were presented to the bank for collection. However, traces of ink remained, and police said P yrcioch would have a better chance of getting away with it if he had not used checks pre-printed with his name and account number on them.

Just, maybe...

From the very beginning of this site, one of our hallmarks has been the inability to comment on things going on in my life in a timely manner. Let's just say that the tradition continues and yet I may see an end to it all at the same time...

You see, I'm always writing for tomorrow. That is, since I write most nights I've been trying to find a way to write about yesterday's news in a way that makes sense in tomorrow's world. It's been as much a success as you can imagine it has been - and I have already admitted to.

One of the problems has been that I tend to look at tomorrow as a goal rather than a destination; it's something to be completed and checked off my list instead of something to be studied for its value and then commented upon. It's cost me many the opportunity for familiarilistic involvement, frankly. (It's a word now.)

But the times, they are, uh, becoming quite different, (Simpson's affect neglected). I'm finally starting to recognize my own ways and in doing so I realize that even the lame-arsed script I wrote all those years ago in order to automate my headers - and never, EVER, got around to fixing - leans the same way; towards tomorrow.

That is, I carefully input today's data -- day of week, current month and current date -- knowing that it will generate TOMORROW'S headline. So I'm extra careful about the data I use.

But not so much so about what that date means to me. It's how I've missed so many birthdays and anniversaries among my friends and family. Most notably and recently, my parents' anniversary...

On Tuesday of this week, my folks celebrated their 31^st anniversary. I vaguely remember the details but mostly I remember a certain sense of loss as this new chapter - which would eventually prove that I was being a complete jackass. Aside from my starting this website, which proved the very same thing.

And then comes today. Today is my daughter's birthday. Many readers will remember the occasion by how I scared you last year with my linguistic gymnastics. I won't try it again - I promise.

Instead, I'd like to apologize to my daughter for not "being there" when you were born. I can't help but feel that a "real Father" would at least share the same room at the same time you entered this earth. I guess that means that I fall short of the mark in that regard.

Similarly, a "real Father" would be around to document your first year of life. A test which I would again fail. Add to that the fact that a "real Father" would be there for his Daughter in order to ensure that 'special days' - such as Christmas, Thanksgiving, losing a tooth, Halloween, Birthdays, Fourth of July and the like are regarded in a certain fashion...

Hey -- wait a minute. From Day One, (August 18, 2006), we've taken every step imaginable in order to make special days special. Even to the point of paying a King's ransom to Wall E. Weasel's so that #5 would be notable enough that it might over-shadow 4, 3 and 2, if need be.

But only if need be...

So. This day is yours, Babe. Do with it what you will so far as our rules allow. You only turn 6 once, after all, and Mommy and I are determined to let you make the most of it, within the allotted Field of Play. I love you dearly and Pray for you every day; you'll have to follow your brother's lead eventually, and rest assured in the knowledge that we have your back.

You'll understand that statement once things are finished and we're on our own. I have that in Faith...

My friend Code Monkey - well-known Internet Millionaire and Man About Town - (I'm wondering which will amuse him more), was kind enough to turn me on to this, kinda. Which is to say that he pointed out a certain portion of that story that can be found if one searches for the word 'boxer.' And it starts to prove my point far earlier than I thought possible, frankly...

The point yesterday was that it's impossible to expand a current democrat idea into ridiculousness - because they're already there, (I'm sure this audience already understood that, but we might have a new visitor. Hey - it could happen...); everything that ever happens that causes even the least bit of human misery is the fault of Republicans. Any need that goes un-met is because of Republican greed. Anyone who has to pay their own money for their own needs? It's those damned Republicans...

Of course, the funny part is that whole line about, "extend[ing] a current democrat idea." It's funny because there ARE NO democrat ideas, save one: George W Bush is the son of a former world leader. Adolf Hitler...

Just so we're clear - as if we wouldn't already be - but I'm a die hard Republican. I'm also a male American alive in the year 2007. After all, if we're stating the obvious, why stop short?

At any rate, I love the ideals of my party while fully recognizing that sometimes the ideal is little more than an unreachable goal. That's a given, frankly and in certain Venn diagrams the ideals of both parties inhabit a significant amount of territory. But that's neither here nor there right now.

Oh sure, things are going very well and getting better for the White Hats in Iraq and the dem's victory of Ought-Six has shown them to be exactly what most of us have been saying they are: feckless losers. Then there's the incredibly robust economy - a first for a nation at war - and the fact that there hasn't been another terrorist attack on our nation since 9/11.

So given all that success, why would I be down on my party and indeed even down on My President? Well, because of the unknown. Mainly, (big, bad political/theological term to follow), because I'm trying to figure out WHY THE HELL George W. Bush started all those wildfires in California! I mean, what was he thinking? Just because Karl Rove left the job is there nobody else left there to think for him? Where's Cheney - visiting that "undisclosed location" (Hooters) again?

Furthermore, who thought it was a good idea to leave matches within his reach in the first place? Even the rules for foster children state that ignition sources have to be hidden and secured and out of the childrens' reach. Why wouldn't that same rule apply to this President? It's just so obvious!!

Oh sure, his sending hurricane Katrina was justified - after all, those were poor, black democrats and we Republicans should have - NAY: were obligated to - destroy their lives and their meager possessions. (It's a part of our party platform; Chapter 21(b), subsection(s) iv, ix and xviii. Look it up for yourselves.) But W set these fires far too close to the homes of so many of California's super-rich; and we all know that rich people vote exclusively for our party.

So WHY would he light so many fires that threaten homes in one of those rare Republican districts in california? I mean - of course it's necessary to burn those Gaia-rooted oxygen-giving hippie-hugged stems of death whenever possible, but could we please find someone in the party to do some demographic research? We don't want to burn these rich, white people out of their homes, after all.

Much less out of the party...

(If you're having a problem figuring out whom I'm making fun of here, email me and I'll straighten it all out. If you're agnostic on the subject, just wait; I'm sure sufficient examples will follow...)

WHO DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING? SERIOUSLY, WHO DIDN'T..?

What? You mean I'm the only one who predicted this? I find that difficult to believe. After all, it was such an obvious outcome that it was the equivalent of a four-inch putt. Even if being made by Dood or myself...

That story is the perfect alignment of those On The Inside of technology and the posers who only try to embrace it in passing. The still versus the dynamic and of course the still would have to win.

But my question is; did the ticket sales stop because Code Monkey already had his tickets, or because he hasn't yet secured his tickets? Inquiring minds want to know. And since I'd never assign a malicious effort to his attempt, I'll just assume that...

Ok - here's an interesting proposition about posting at midnight on Sunday with a half foot of snow, an early morning in your face and the idea of having to put them all together in a mere 6 hours: Do you make a brief apology and then shrug off to bed? Or do you tell everything that you'd like to and call in sick in a few hours?

Well, I AM sick, but not in a way generally recognized by the fine folks in charge of The Rules Of Federal Service for the use of sick leave, so I'll have to show up in the office in the morning. It is in that spirit that I offer you this thin serving of watered-down gruel...

I don't know, (but would love to), which portion of you read this site AND the other site, or in which order you visit them. Further, if I started a post here by saying, "please read the other site first," would you? And are there those of you out there who can only devote 5 minutes to any amount of my nonsense and so only read this site and NOT the other -- or vice versa?

Most interestingly, if INDEED there is someone out there who can only devote a single reading-time to those things I write, and they've decided to alternate between this site and the other on an alternate-day schedule, MAN I'd love to know what that person knows of my life. That would be a really, really cool experiment...

But enough about me on my own blog on my own website. It's more than I can handle at this point, frankly.

Just to distill everything I've said above, I'm willing to accept the fact that most of you will have read about the rather unfortunate mishap I suffered this weekend, (and NO!, this is not a cheap ploy to get you to the other site. It's not as if I lost a leg or something. Well, actually I did, but it turned up later; it was behind the sofa. But that's a story for another time), and think you now know the whole story.

Well that's awfully smug of you, frankly...

The particulars of the story are accurate as far as I went, but there's always sub-plot; there's always a jot of road that runs off in an unexpected direction that's just loaded with interesting terrain begging to find the mainstream of the medium. In fact, this happens so much in life that we tend to pare away the details that make the point in order to... ummmm.. make the point, I suppose.

Then again, maybe that's just me.

...

As we were leaving "M's" semi-regular appointment, an adolescent male was observed trolling the hallway we were expected to travel. Not much of a surprise that, since it is a professional office building replete with any number of "professionals" in their "offices," but this buy was unique.

And by "unique" I mean to say that he had more metal in his face than I have in my cell phone. As he walked past us I noticed that "M" had taken particular interest in this doofus and then she showed signs of starting to speak.

I got as close to her as I could with her brothers hanging off me, tried to catch her eye while trying to rush her into the next hallway, only to hear her say, "he looks sooo..."

And at this point I was mentally building a protective barrier where I could be sure my kids were safe and behind me while I defended them by ripping small pieces of metal out of the facial skin of this stranger. Should it come to that - should my daughter's insult bring about that result.

Always thinking ahead, I am. Eagle Scout, I should have been<⁄YodaSpeak>

...only to hear my daughter finish, "he looks so," with, "cool." Thereby setting back both of their therapies by several years. And not to mention aggravating TWO parents - since his Mother turned the corner just after my daughter had done the damage.

Looks like we've got much more work ahead of us...

Good news - we had a showing yesterday morning! Bad news: it'll probably be the last one of the year and there's still an impressive amount of work ahead of a sale. Ah well. It'll sell when it's supposed to and I should have been doing all this work anyway. Victim of my own procrastination, I suppose.

At any rate, the showing was scheduled for 9:30 so I got up early, got caught up on my daily toil, (the paying job), and was jumping into the shower - as usual - about 5 minutes before they were scheduled to arrive. No big deal, right? A quick PCF shower and I'll be outta here. Besides, it's not like they ever show up exactly on time.

As I turn off the water I hear my dumb little dog barking his fool head off, meaning that they showed up at 10:29:50. Grand. Well, that's why I left the dogs out in the first place; I figured they'd be better off seeing them rather than me getting out of the shower. A handshake as her client pulls up (at 10:33:12) and I'm off for breakfast...

In order to get to Sonic - my breakfast-tailer of choice - I have to get on the highway for about 1/2 mile; I ride an on-ramp that becomes an off-ramp. As I'm getting on the road I notice two cars move out of the right lane. It's completely unnecessary because I'm not getting out of this lane, but they don't know that, so fine. Except it wasn't. One of the cars then cut off two cars in order to get into my lane and I was one of them.

This did not sit well - given the fact that he could have stayed where he was and slipped in behind me. It's not like I didn't get up to speed, (as those of you who have ridden with me can attest), so I followed him rather closely. And by "rather closely" I mean that I was able to shave the back of his neck with my engine's fan...

As it turns out, he was breakfast-bound as well. I followed him into the parking lot but instead of going around and getting in line behind him, I went the other way around and parked right in front of him, nose-to-nose. This got his attention. I then pulled alongside his vehicle and he was looking as if he expected me to gun him down right then and there, (I was tempted).

I opened my passenger window and he his. "You wouldn't have lost a damn thing if you got in behind me rather than cutting me off," I said in a voice I'm practicing for "M's" teenage years. Looking particularly contrite he said, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Please don't shoot me."

Well no. He didn't say that last bit but it was somewhat implied. Which means the voice must really be coming along. "Watch it," I said as I started to roll away. "I'm really sorry." And then I realized something; I've not only gotten old, but I'm the cranky old man to boot. Getting old is bad enough but now I'm the crank?!?

Oh well - shake it off. 'someone's gotta do it' and 'takes all kinds' and what not. On to the grocery store! Yes, I need breakfast but we also need dinner and buying dinner gets me the money to buy breakfast. What an age in which we live!

As I'm checking out, the self-checkout autobot goes berzerk. Apparently buying generic Sudafed and take/bake pizza is a violation of the Patriot Act or something. I stand there for several minutes and nobody arrives to comfort the machine's affliction. This is America! Where is my instant gratification?!?!!

So I pick up my items and move to the next self-checkout. If they can't fix the one machine then I'm surely going to destroy the others. Unfortunately, things go well and I'm waiting for my change. I requested $50 back because I'll be running the legs off the kids on Friday and we'll need money for lunch, tips for the hatcheck girl and maybe bail. $5 comes out. Then it's twin brother. Then a $20. Then the machine blew up with my double sawbuck still stuck deep within it's bowels (bet you never think of these things in the same way again)!

After sorting it all out I go acquire breakfast and finally THAT didn't yield any additional aggravation. Sure that everything that could go wrong already had, I head home. Only to find myself stomping through the firewall in my truck because some doorknob has decided to flag traffic to a stop. While wearing dark colors and standing in the shadows of the middle of the road. Do the kids still say, "way to go, dumbarse" "smooth move, ex-lax?" 'Cause that's what I was thinking.

In the process of going from 40-to-Zero in less time than it takes to turn a moron into a smudge on the asphalt, I nearly threw dinner from the passenger seat through the windshield and into Park County. Fortunately, I was able to catch the Italian sauce-breads before they got that far. Unfortunately, inertia forced the loose connection on D-Man's seat belt into a state of failure and his carseat was plastered against the back of Mommy's seat.

Still is, actually. I'll have to remember to fix that sometime. On second thought, I'm sure it'll come up soon...

Once back on the road - or rather, moving along it - I decide that when I get home I'm going to build a large bunker and then move ALL of my stuff into it, including my truck and myself. As I approach my property determined to carry out my new plan, I notice that the realtor and her client ARE STILL THERE! It was 10:47(:28)!! Is this guy shopping or moving in?!?

I gave up. I decided to go back to bed - even if it was just the bed of my truck.

Oh yeah - and get off my lawn...

J.O.T.W...

OK - I had another 14 paragraphs of rantalogical material, but then I remembered that it's Friday and I kind of promised you a break for the weekend. So let's dig through the archives for a decent joke, shall we?

A lesson in Hebonics:

In Hebonics, questions are always answered with questions:
Question: "How do you feel?"
Hebonics response: "How should I feel?"

The subject is often placed at the end of a sentence after a pronoun has been used at the beginning: "She dances beautifully, that girl."

The sarcastic repetition of words by adding "sh" to the front is used for emphasis: mountains becomes "shmountains"; turtle becomes shmurtle." (mountains-shmountains / turtle-shmurtle)

These common phrases were translated from "Standard English" to Hebonics:
English: "Sorry, I don't know the time."
Hebonics: "What do I look like, a clock?"
English: "I hope things turn out okay."
Hebonics: "You should BE so lucky!"
English: "I see you're wearing one of the ties I gave you."
Hebonics: "What's the matter, the other tie you didn't like?
English: "That's a very pretty girl."
Hebonics: "She could stand to gain a few pounds."
English: "May I take your plate, sir?"
Hebonics: "You've hardly touched your food. What's the matter, something's wrong with it?"
English: "It's been so long since you've called."
Hebonics: "You didn't wonder if I'm dead yet?"
English: "It's a nice day."
Hebonics: "At least it's not raining."
English: "Happy birthday."
Hebonics: "You should only become a year smarter."
English: "I feel good."
Hebonics: "Things could be a lot worse."
English: "Happy New Year!"
Hebonics: "Another year, G-d willing!"

Thank you all so very much. This has been a rough year in ways that are sometimes hard to remember but are here all the same. Some turbulence remains but we'll get through them by watching in wonder as our kids dance in joy at the simple fact that they have Halloween decorations in their rooms, (I wish I had video to share and save). They're a joy and you're a joy and writing this has always been a joy. Obviously - lest I put an end to it in the first week.

Our lives are about to undergo a great change but the great changes are perfectly boring; it's the small adventures that put life in perspective, and I'll try to remember that as we move forward...

A more appropriate header I couldn't dream. Because this is the end of OH! so many things and in OH! so many ways that I shudder to mention it in the first place, frankly; I've finally been convinced that there's an end to my kitchen work that I can actually grasp. And it goes a little something like...

Turn this:

Yes. The process that began nearly a decade ago after I acted on the mere mention of a suggestion from The Wif, ("I wish our cabinets were lighter"), while she was out of town is nearing an end. There's been a TON of time and now an equally measurable amount of money - which is still discounting all the bloody TIME I've put into the project - spent along the way.

The result? Well, you can see it above and if I don't say so myself, it's pretty impressive. All the more reason to believe that as my boys age and I teach them what I know and they learn things on their own that we'll be able to make a living with our hands while helping people update/fix their homes. No small accomplishment, that.

It's something I look forward to: The Binkster carrying a full panel of sheetrock up a flight of stairs. D-Man mitering a complex corner of crown moulding. Each of them teasing me about taking the time to properly and exactly lay out a line of tile. Good times, it'll be.

Good times...

AND THE PRESENT ISN'T SO SHABBY EITHER...

As the boys come into their own and "M" slowly comes into Kindergarten, their personalities become more and more clear every day. And it's more than a little bit scary. "M" is slowly coming to grasp the difference between boys and girls and understand why D-Man will never be her "little sister." Namely because he has an overwhelming drive to throw things AT her while she would like little more than to throw a thing TO him.

In the macro, it's a difference of aim and of degree but in the micro - the world the kids' inhabit - it's a personal matter that she wants him to catch a stuffed animal. And he wants to throw one such that it would leave an imprint on her forehead.

I'll say it again: you have to be ignorant, an unmarried female, a graduate student, in a world without children or a college professor to think that there is no difference between the sexes...

Unfortunately, there's more to follow on that topic next week. Maybe....

If there's something better than slipping into bed at 10:00 - AM - it isn't coming to mind at the moment. Oh yeah; if you're sicker than a dog, that might not apply.

Such was my life on Monday. I got up on time and feeling like a dozen miles of bad road. Time to let everyone know that they'd better not count on me, right? Well, easier said than done.

I fired up my laptop in order to accurately answer the daily, morning email accounting of my physical presence only to find that I couldn't find a signal. Something was amiss somewhere else. I booted all devices in the chain and kept hammering (and cursing) at my 'top until I made a stunning revelation: I have my boss' number in my cell.

Feeling perfectly stupid I finally grabbed my phone and called my boss. "No go," I said and she agreed. I climbed back into bed with a big, 'Aaaahhhhhhooooucccch!' Because even though I'd been freed of the burden of having to show up somewhere, I was still experiencing the same pains.

Some things never change...

MOVIE REVIEWS! GET 'CHYR MOVIE REVIEWS WHILE THEY'RE HOT...

OK. I'm man enough to admit that I was the very last person in this country to see Borat. Fortunately, I'm not the last person on the planet to see it, (who is - ironically - a second cousin and well-known hermit in Kazakhstan who lives in a cave and can't be bothered with issues of personal hygiene). But none of that matters to me for the purpose of this review.

The movie was excellent and outrageously funny in almost every regard. For the first half-hour. Every other sentence was an absolute hit and the gags they pulled were pure gold. DYNAMite material!!

And then - as happens all too often - pamela andersen ruins the show. Oh sure, tommy lee appreciated her appearance in their shared production, but in general she's all too involved in inhabiting center stage to let anything else go off.

Such is her gift and such is the flick: The instant Ol' pam comes into the picture things change for the worse. They should have continued along the lines of what they were already doing; surprising New Yorkers. They should have scheduled appointments with the ADL, the aclu, the Nicks and maybe even a city counsel or two.

Of course, that would have left out the "Jewish" roach scene, but it could have been worked into a meeting with the ADL, the aclu, the Nicks... well, you get the idea.

The other movie I saw this weekend was "aeon flux." And "flux" is right, in the sense that it's completely wrong. 'Flux' is a flick about chicks in tight leather beating the snot out of other chicks in hot leather, basically. So there's a lot of "HuHTS!" and "NUUHS!" along the way but in the end it's actually a pretty interesting story.

Keeping civilization alive while trying to kill of parts of it generally leads to an "interesting interpretation" of where we've been so far. This turns out to take a longer view of such things, but we seem to come down on the right side all the same...

Still. I can see where it appealed to all the comic-book fanboi's out there: Who wouldn't be drawn to hot chicks in tight leather knocking the snot out of each other?

I caught a bumper sticker on the way home today. Actually, truth be told - and that's usually our goal 'round these parts - I saw several. We all do, of course and for the most part they're typically lefty nonsense and completely devoid of serious thought.

But I here now apologize for the redundancy...

I caught my fair share of the "endless/endthis war" and the anti-W circle and a few of the other usual suspects. It would be almost like saying that I found lint in my belly-button, except for the fact I never have because I never checked. But that's a subject for another time, I suppose.

But then, as I was heading into the home stretch of my journey I saw a new one littered about with the tired, worn-out old ones; "peace takes courage, too" and I almost had to pull off the road because my cab was rapidly filling up with puke...

PEACE takes "courage?" In who's world? Are you living on the dark side of Mars - alone and unmarried and with everything you could ever imagine you might ever need? Because THAT might at last be defined...

Well, let me be fair. And let me back up just a bit. Does "peace" actually take "courage" as was suggested? Well, they get at least a half micro-dram of credit for inadvertently saying that those who are sent to wage war exhibit signs of being courageous. Well done, that is. And now that THAT nasty business is behind us...

What are they actually saying? "Peace takes courage" could be parsed rather specifically to mean that "it's a brave action to trust others" I suppose. Then again, depending on your definition of "peace" it could mean, 'doing absolutely nothing in the face of an international threat' and that would be the exact opposite of courage.

That would be complete foolishness. And since these peoples' idea of "peace" means a simple blind-eye to any threat, I'm beginning to think that they've completely sold out the idea of an American Nation in favor of the idea of a false promise from our enemies.

I am only left to wish that I'm wrong in this...

New Coke. Clear Pepsi. Anyone remember them? Weeeelll, maybe - given the context; is this a barroom trivia contest or a question concerning the contents of our shopping list circa 1987-1992? Because context matters. ALWAYS.

So it is that we find ourselves faced with the "unfortunate truth" that algore has been awarded the nobel peace prize - or, to be more precise, 'co-awarded' - for his "work" against global warming. Now it's true that he's been both eager and (probably) earnest in his work as he lectures the rest of us how to live in order to save "Mother Gaia," but everything else he's ever done falls short of that ideal.

And everything he's currently doing spits in the face of that "ideal." Let's stop here before I have to expand into any further physical metaphors, shall we?

When questioned - on the record and on the floor of the Congress he used to be paid to troll about his extensive energy usage, he answered that he, paid for carbon dioxide offsets - or some such nonsense. So let's briefly delve into those "offsets" the algore mentioned...

The general idea is that as you become aware of your so-called, "carbon footprint" you can eventually "offset" the size of said footprint by paying into a more "carbon-neutral" facility to burn less carbon than you do, in order to make yourself feel better. That is, you pay cash dollars in order to support someone who can't afford to burn as much fossil fuel as you can afford to burn, and then you sleep better at night. And maybe even win a coveted, world-known award in the process. (We'll get to that)

The first problem is that the algore has already admitted that he relies on others to the heavy lifting for the problem of which is the front-runner. Can't be bothered to do it for himself, frankly. For such is his way.

The second problem is that he's gaining so much global recognition for creating so much greenhouse gas - the very type of which he's speaking against - that even attending one of his speeches should only be done as an act of irony.

The problem with the "award" he's recently received is that they continue to prove that they are increasingly irrelevant: A "peace" prize awarded to arafat? The master of the terror plan against Israel? Why? A "peace" prize awarded to jimmah carter simply because he's the anti-Bush? Why?

These are but two examples and I could go on and on, (and might, given the social agendas that surround such things), but not tonight. Just rest assured knowing that where the nobel peace prize once meant something to the world, it has now passed into the obscure mist of the past and the committee has done its very best to make sure that it never means anything of worth again.

But the big question remains: WHY did the algore win the "peace" prize for a dolled-up movie and years of flying around in a private jet?!?

That one's easy: Because he couldn't have possibly won the nobel Science award for such nonsense...

Hey gang! Since I've already installed the Great Mood Of The Unfilled throughout this week, why not continue on that theme as we close the bloody thing out? No objections? Well, no objections noted - anyway - so let's continue down this path in the hope that we can run it's course through the weekend and start anew next week!

The good news, of course, is that no actual work is expected of you. So you're off the hook in that regard. Although not "Off Da Hook" as is the current slang among today's hip, young youth. But some of you may be.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! I don't know that I've ever laughed that hard in print before. I may well need to take note of this day for historical purposes.

But seriously, I'm sure that many of us - including myself - are "Off Da Hook" all the same. We'll just have to cope with those less cool than us among us as we march forward. (Seriously: somebody please email me next week [Code Monkey and Dood - I'm looking in your direction] with the subject/body of "marching forward/marching sideways." It's marching band season, after all...) Which is to say that all asparagus take a serious devotion to duty along all the 3 years that it requires...

Where THE HELL was I? Oh, yeah:

We've got good news - GREAT news, actually - up at The Stonestead recently. The problem is, and in keeping with this week's (unintended) theme, I'm hesitant to share said news, lest I jinx the whole thing. Of course the big picture is that as a man of Faith I hold no coin for "jinxes" but I still feel that same human tug we all experience. Thus my unwillingness to trumpet our good news from the rooftops.

Well, that and the fact that I've actually been on our roof recently and didn't feel too secure standing in a single place for all that long. As well as the fact that I don't own a trumpet. But that's neither here nor there.

But! As I feel an obligation to be truthful, even if it blows up in my face - as I witnessed this week - , I'll tell you the facts as I now know them at this time. Only withholding the actual Fact Behind The Facts:

I got a call from our kids' social worker. She was busy.

Just yesterday we received two large envelopes from same social worker; one contained 3 "life books" - for obvious reasons - and the other contained roughly 87 pages of paper in various groupings which we are to duplicate or type or scan or download from the "provided website" and fill out electronically. Oh joy...

As I shared this news with involved co-workers, they asked about the involvement we would have to have. At the time, I said I said I didn't know that I had any at all. Now I know better.

And she's due up at the home tomorrow. If only she'd sent things out earlier, they'd be ready to hand back to her. But such is their way...

J.O.T.W...

Pat and Mick have just started their job installing telegraph poles. At the end of the first week they both go to collect their wages and the boss tells Mick he is dismissed. Why? asks Mick. Well, said the boss Pat has put in 50 poles this week and you have only done 5

Mick looks rather perplexed, and says, “but look how far he has left them sticking out!"

To which I can only add: ... . _.__, _.. ___ _..!

Sweet merciful heavens! Well, you never know what you're getting into with this nightly journaling, do you? I mean, I'm used to sparse and scattered emails from my small - but loyal (and of greater than average attractiveness) - audience from time to time if I mention one of you by name or if I craft an insult in a way that makes coffee shoot out your nose. That's all well and good and if that's the nature of this thing then so be it. But on a day where I write nothing and my email is flooded? Didn't see that coming.

So it is in that spirit that I offer you the following 2 paragraphs:

There. That ought to fill my inbox...

Oh -- and as for what exactly I meant by yesterday's headline, well, you guys have painted me into a corner on that; with all your responses and questions and concerns I feel as if the matter at hand should be rather large and/or dramatic. Something like I'm filing for divorce or I'm going to saw through my left leg or I'm running for President.

Forget that last one. That would be much more futile pathetic than dramatic...

The truth is, the headline pretty much was the story - insofar as heft and weight is concerned- because what I was considering was perfectly mundane. No shooting rampages, no family abandonment, no bodily harm. Not even considering getting a new tattoo or getting rid of my current ones. It had all the life-changing affect of deciding to snack on cashews instead of peanuts or vice-versa.

So without meaning to, I accidently "set you up." Honestly - no malicious intent whatsoever on my part. I swear.

But! Now I know how to do it...   <:-\

Sorry.

THE PERFESSER IS IN...

OK. It's been some while since I last lectured on the topic of HOW TO DRIVE YOUR BLOODY CAR, ALREADY! so I guess we're due. Face front...

The other day I was down in the southern part of the metro area - a location I'm almost never in and was surprised to see all the growth (speaking of which, if that were my mall I'd shave it's butt and teach it to walk backwards, as the old saying goes) - and realized that I was in the wrong lane to make my turn and quickly running out of real estate. With a car practically in my blind spot I slowed slightly to let them get ahead of me and flipped on my signal.

When the woman behind the wheel of the car started to slow down. Not wanting to cut her off - yet - I slowed further. Then she slowed down more. Before long we were both PARKED in the middle of a rather busy stretch State highway, blocking a lane apiece. I finally made the correct sequence of gestures that penetrated her concrete skull and convinced her to motor on down the on-ramp.

Of course I then realized that I'd planted myself behind a person likely to stop when someone wants to change lanes. Not my brightest moment...

The lesson? Quit being so darned polite in traffic! I'm basing my movements and speed using something called "physics" - the study of our vehicles' sizes, directions and speed - and basing my actions on what I see and experience.

But in the end, none of this matters, I suppose. It doesn't matter that the vast majority of a certain type of car be left in the garage. It doesn't matter that one of my major pet peeves is being second in line to a woman behind the wheel of a car that closed upon a 4-Way stop "against" another woman behind the wheel and the sure knowledge that the next 5 minutes will be spent watching one of them trying to convince the other of them that they're more sincere in wishing the other upon their journey.

Obviously, I'm not trying to win friends here, but the point stands: be stronger in traffic and the world will get along better...

...

Well, I sure stepped in a big steaming pile of, "why the Hell did you do that?!!!!!?" this weekend. And how are you doing this brilliant Tuesday?

Actually, the issue at issue here is the fact that I tend to think vertically while The Wif goes about life with a much more horizontal view of things. That is, I'd prefer to have a 'morning briefing' wherein I'd be told/reminded of those things going on in my life that affect my life FOR THAT DAY, while she prefers not only knowing what's happening at 2:13 PM on December 8^th 2012, but also what shoes she'll be wearing at the time.

Now, please resist the urge to get ahead of me in this...

I suppose I've already made it very easy to guess at the nature of the sin I committed over this long weekend, but I have a case to plead all the same. Which is to say that I forgot that The Wif had an eye appointment early during Monday's afternoon and I was instead out and about - a "man on the town" - and going about such exotic tasks as retrieving large bins of HER Halloween and Christmas clothing from the storage unit, (a subtle reminder of how long our home has been on the market), as well as paying bills, buying primer for the new ceiling and hardware for the new cabinets and staining new doors and removing old doors and applying polyurethane to the whole setup and sanding the remaining doors and eventually getting myself some Sonic lunch.

Because I am the world's Most Selfish Creature Ever!

(Yes, I'm using this forum to "beat up" on The Wif for a couple of reasons; first, these things should either see the light of day or get the Hell out of me. That much is clear and I have a single safe forum and welcome to it. Secondly - if my experience and my reaction to it is something that might help others, I offer it freely.)

So I didn't get home in time and The Wif had to take The Kids to a follow-up eye appointment. In print, that doesn't sound so bad and eventually everyone ended up where they were meant to be and everything seemingly turned out well. For such are the ways of life, if only we allow them to be.

But this was NOT! The PLAN! I would be home at exactly 13:14:37 in order to see to naptimes. The boys needed a meal and some convincing to hit the hay and I chose to be absent. I forced The Wif to spend more time with our God-given Children. But that doesn't matter in the least: She was supposed to be somewhere else and under her own self-created circumstances.

Needless to say, I didn't make it home on schedule because the schedule wasn't presented to me in a timely fashion. And then all Hell broke loose and she decided to communicate with me via a printed message left on the table and taped to the door.

Yeah. Good luck with that...

I used to live in a part of what I'll call, 'untouchted country;' we had a supermarket or two - thankfully - but were otherwise free from car lots, oversized balloon characters inhabiting rooftops and unusually large bendy-flappy prophylactics along our roadsides. It was fairly pristine so far as those things go and we were glad for it, frankly.

But then Darth Wal-Mart loomed on the horizon and the locals lost their minds: "It'll kill off local merchants!", "What about the 'Mom and Pops?'" people cried. The Concerned were motivated and they deployed that Most Feared of weapons; the bumper sticker.

You couldn't travel a single mile of HWY 74 without encountering a "Dump Wal-Fart" bumper sticker, and then laughing yourself off the roadway at it's absolute high-larity. Cars were crashed by the dozens and the wrecking yards made so much money they finally bought the town and turned it into the world's first salvage yard/luxury car storage lot.

It's the only way I have to explain the vehicles around me as I park to shop...

Sooner and later you started to see those same cars with those bumper stickers -- parked alongside you as you went to shop at Wal-Mart. In fact, I considered it a badge of honor to park my truck, complete with Christian Fish and "Try being generous with your own money for a change" bumpersticker, next to a tiny little 23-year-old two-door sporting roughly 47 stickers of its own.

Of course local commerce changed as the Nation's low-price leader moved into town. It would have to. And of course some local specialty boutiques suffered as a result. Again - natural consequence and fully expected. But it was nothing like what was predicted from the naysayers: They suggested that store after store would close until main street would be little more than bars and pizza places, while the new big box giant thrived.

But it's not as if armed gangs of contractors walked along our Main Street carrying large amounts of plywood and nails and proceeded to nail shut the doorways and windows of our local merchants. Quite the contrary: contractors were invited in to expand and update the storefronts. Those stores that sold hardware were invited to re-invent themselves And those looking for a serious solution to a lighting problem were suddenly on their own...

Kitchen. LIfe. Wal-Mart. Grocery. And a very, VERY strange little boy who took a liking to my little boy to follow. If I feel up to relating the story without resorting to words that would turn most of you off.

Maybe...

I used to know what was going on. I used to imagine that - even though I wasn't in charge of everything that was going on under "my roof," I was at least aware of some things that affected my life. Kinda. But things have undergone drastic changes, and nothing is as it was...

As I've already tied this post to home improvements - not that it doesn't relate to about twelve dozen other subjects - we'll narrow our comments to the rather narrow pre-defined subject at hand. Namely...

WHERE THE (#%$ ARE MY TOOLS?!? I used to operate under a perfect system where I could always find my tools via a very simple process. I just thought about the last project upon which the tool in question was employed, walked to the site of that project and - VIOLA! - I was INSTANTLY! able to locate the tool in question.

For example, I had been using my 9V drill out on the deck for so many jobs that I carried it out with me even on unrelated tasks - such as grilling hot dogs. But I always knew it would be employed on other jobs, and would since have to be centrally located. Like, for example, at the last point it was used.

But this - even as was my way, shall not from here on Be My Way; I can't afford to have my boys/children follow that example if only because I can't keep up with their many and varied projects. I recognize that already and have taken steps to keep things in the garage.

Even if I'm not ready for it..

J.O.T.W...

And nooooo - this isn't about the Rockies and the many bed-wetting fans around town hoopin' N hollerin' about the team finally being able to put together a playoff run. Although that is pretty insane in its own right. No, this is about that annual display of self-righteous victimhood that is the anti-Columbus Day crowd.

Yes, those people who can't decide between spouting ignorance or wearing their claimed victim status on their sleeve - so they do both. Well, just like yellow aspens, they're back - and with predictable results.

I remember that years ago the protesters used to claim that what Columbus did was really no big deal, because a land mass as large as the American continent was bound to be "discovered" eventually, anyway. This morphed into the argument, along with growing archeological evidence, that the Norse had actually been here long before Columbus, so he didn't actually "discover" the continent!

Soon after, the professional victims realized that this tactic merely pitted white man against white man and left no colored victim, so they quickly abandoned it in favor of saying that people already lived here, so there was no "discovery" was necessary.

That served their purposes for a while, but eventually they realized that they were having no effect - aside from having to hold fundraisers to make bail - and they had to switch to a new tactic. Namely, that of being direct victims of Columbus. And the 500 years that have passed in the meantime be damned.

So Columbus went from explorer to "mass murderer." It was claimed that he willingly and knowingly slaughtered hundreds - then thousands then many, many more - indigenous peoples in a blood-thirsty rampage of bloodlust. After all, he was a white european on foreign soil who lead other white europeans and carried a sword, (SWORD CONTROL!), so he must have been as brutal as the revisionists think he was. It only follows, right?

And that brings us to modern times, where Columbus not only murdered roughly 12 million natives but was also a slave-trader. After all, they think it to be so - and being the victims of the man, it must be so. Case closed.

Never mind that Columbus never set foot in what is modern America. Never mind that there's a 20-40 foot high (at my height, I'm lousy with estimating things that tower over me so) statue of him on land he actually visited. Never mind that his arrival is greeted with great glee in those islands he "discovered." Never mind that he respected the local and provincial authority in his dealings with the natives and their land. Never mind that he wrote that he and his bowling league could kick ass and take names on those islands...

Well, that's what he meant...

Happy Columbus Day. The critics be damned.

JUST ANOTHER LOOPY PROPOSAL...

It's late and I'm tired. And no, I'm not even talking about the night in which I wrote this krep; I'm talking about the Presidential election. And the actual event is still 13 months away! Can you imagine how dreary this whole thing will become? "Yes we can. We read this dreck."

Well, thanks for that at least. It might be the only way you learn that the "new" "hillary-care" "proposal" contains this particular element: every child born in America, under her plan (GOD forbid a thousand times!) will receive $5,000.

As usual, the Devil is in the details and it's obvious that handing a check for 5K to a newborn will result in a soggy mass of soy ink on recycled paper, but that may be the ideal outcome in this circumstance.

I can't figure this one out and frankly it bothers me; I was able to see through bill's brambles and accurately asses his true motives. It was like peeling an onion and I love to peel onions. But this is something else.

hil is obviously hoping to lock up the "anything for the children" vote - as is the dem's wont - but I can only imagine one winning scenario FOR her FROM her proposal: she hopes to increase the number of out-of-wedlock births, thereby increasing the number of single Moms who depend ever more upon the gubermint for the care of their child.

This is - I ask you - a winning strategy? Everyone on the right (and in increasing numbers those on the left) realizes that neither the number of out-of-wedlock births nor the number of Mothers relying on the gubermint should increase. A bad thing, would that be<⁄YodaVoice>.

So what gives? I mean, politically, growing the number of single Mothers is a winning play for the dems; unattached women overwhelmingly vote for the left, and even moreso those with children. But her policy would also convince married, stable Mothers Of 3 to become Mothers of 4. At the margins, at least. And those women have little time to waste on hillary and her ilk.

So it's a mixed bag, and its not like a clinton to go after anything but a SURE thing. Look for a termination in her campaign in the next two weeks. That guy should have known better...

Several years ago, I believe while on a cross-country family trip, in a hotel room, (I could add "at night, with my eyes half-closed, while everyone else slept," and so on but we've all already had our fill of commas["Top notch! TOP notch!"] for the day), I watched a film called Silent Partner. As I recall, I'd recently turned 13 and was watching the flick as a first-run on HBO - ["Holy cards"] most likely under an orange roof - if I'm placing things correctly.

The film stood out for at least 3 reasons and not the least of which was Death By Aquarium. If you've seen the movie - or plan to - try to remember/view it through the eyes of a 13 year old boy and you'll easily spot/remember the other two reasons it might well have stuck in my mind at the time.

Well, if it weren't funny enough, I was just thinking about that particular movie the other day - for reasons still unknown - when I saw it was airing tonight. (I should also note that as I type this, Caddyshack is playing on, strangely enough, HBO, behind me. Guess I was wrong about the commas, but that should explain the bracketed terms you see scattered through today's post.) I switched over to review my memories ["Avast ye idiots!"] of the movie when The Wif finally joined me and asked what it was - exactly - I was watching.

I briefly explained to her the history said movie and I shared and then explained the plot as I remembered it ["Cinderella story..."] and was able to remember the crucial detail: the rendering of the letter "G" and it's continuing importance. Then again, why spoil the ending for her or for you ["CANNONBALL COMIN'!"] when you can have it spoiled for yourself?

In other news, we finally got the hole in the ceiling fixed. It was a long road marked by many potholes and speed bumps but IT'S DONE! It's finally done!