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This is my short week - and if ever I needed one, it's now. For some reason, March has always felt like the longest month to me. Perhaps it's the promise of greening grass combined with the fact that we always get a TON of snow during the month. Then again, maybe it's simply that so many of my favorite shows get pre-empted by stupid, pointless college basketball games. I'm open to either idea.

Lousy Smarch weather/sports...

(That wasn't a typo; only one in 100 will get that. We call that the "Jerry Seinfeld" ratio.)

So March is here and gone and if you're local then you should remember that this weather is fitting, since it came in like a lamb. Only fitting then that it should turn a cold shoulder to us and slice at our families with the icicle claws of the last, remaining Winter Lion - to overuse a metaphor.

More importantly, today is our Family Anniversary and we've got something planned. I'm not sure what because I'm less involved in our family plans than I was in the Apollo missions, but we're doing something. And something cool like throwing ducks at balloons, and nothing will be as it seems...

(MAN! TWO Simpsons references in a single post! Can another be far behind? Dare I try it?)

Actually, we're going to try to swing clubs at balls but given the weather we may need to move it inside. I'm actually perfectly comfortable with the second option because it will allow me to explain the whole concept of a "black light" to the yard apes. Not that they need to know or will suffer for the lack of an explanation; not in the least. I'd just like for them to know what they're getting into before they get into it.

OH - and be able to explain it back to me before they get one. Least I could expect...

About the last couple of days. See, this is a funny one: over the weekend we shut everything down for "earth hour," and simply forgot to power things up again. HA - boy is my face red green!

Oh - Wait! Green is the NEW red. Close enough in my case, I guess...

As it turns out - and if you're following me on Twitter you already know this - The Wif is now a true Hockey Mom. Sure enough: two sons active in a hockey league and a husband who is about to be a coach, (curse me for knowing the rules and how to work a stick!), so the SARAH-fication continues unabated, (GOT THE TRIFECTA! Don't make me color the letters yellow, people!).

Our boys had their first hockey practice last Sunday and it was something to behold: a bunch of kids/boys running around wearing equipment enough that it out-weighed them, chasing orange balls on a concrete oval. Except for my boy; he was "waiting for his turn."

I started to explain to D-Man that in sports, one does not "wait his turn." I told him that in hockey, football, basketball and baseball, you don't wait for... . And then I had to correct myself. "OK, in baseball you wait for your turn. In all other sports you just have to "GET" your turn." "So stop 'waiting' and get going."

The funny thing is, number 3 who has similar skills but FAR less attitude eventually ran into the scrum with full force, while the otherly-gifted middle child just stood at the edge of the rink awaiting his turn. Things will change once I have a stick in my hands.

Oh - and shin guards. You don't want to be out amidst those little armed monsters without shin guards...

Oh, snap! I've got a zit in the top of my left nose, but since my left nose has never played well with others, its on its own, right?

Anyway, As I Said On Twitter, kinda, we're experiencing a death-spread we haven't seen in 100 years. Except we have. But nobody cares: a BLIZZARD has stolen our confidences. Our last, best hope is a joke from years ago, before Skynet went live...

OK - sorry about yesterday; I was devising new and unique ways to terrify The Wif. But more about that in a sec...

In response to Hugh's request for a movie to compare Hopey McChange's administration to - more hype than substance - I tweeted him with "Ishtar!" After the first break he returned and said that Ishtar was leading. Cutting edge, I am.

Additionally, I received more than one response from people who suggested the same, (after all, it wouldn't be leading if I were the only one to say it, right?). So there's something to think about and to add to my previous post: are you happy with what you've seen - given the vast promises of the past two years? (obamanics need not respond because I understand that you can't speak against your savior. YET.) We're happy with hopeNchange because it sounds nice, no?

One of the guys I follow on Twitter - Mr_Fastbucks ("follow Mr_Fastbucks" to 40404) - repeatedly tweets detractors with, "You voted for Denzel, but you got Urkel" and I think that pretty much sums it up. Nothing more to add on this end, (witness his relentless record of voting 'Present.' Perhaps he was saying "President" and it was just misunderstood).

Except perhaps to add that I also "heard" a tweet that said that our President enjoys "playing the role of President" but not "doing the work of President." That's a whole lot of wisdom packed into a mere 140 characters, if you ask me. And yet another tweet said that the LSM was acting towards the little o, "like young girls at a Jonas Brothers concert."

I wish I'd said that.

To further add to the absolute insanity that is the current administration, I'd throw in the fact that they want to reduce the tax deduction for charitable giving. I mean, are these people unable of thinking past next weeK? What do they think will happen once this takes effect?

Well, since they - and all of you who still support them - won't ever understand the Law Of Unintended Consequences, I'll explain it for you here using small words: people will give less to charitable organizations. Well, liberals and so-called "moderates" will donate less than they already do because: a) there's no longer anything in it for them; and, b) people will be under the mistaken impression that the gubermint will take care of all the world's ills. "After all, if they're taking so much more of my income, they must be doing something good with it...

[PITY]

As for my attempts to flummox The Wif, I think I scored big today. First off, she had to go buy hockey gear - something with which she is completely unfamiliar, aside from the general idea that they wear helmets and carry sticks - but she got most of it done for just over $100.

But over my lunch hour I spent better than 3 times that. She can be such an amateur...

I went and bought my kids a gun, an Italian .22 that's a real beaute. I call it "Li'l Blasty." It's a starter pistol with a couple of interesting features. First off, the safety is almost impossible to engage. Second, it has a seven-round magazine AND the ability to load single rounds if need be.

It's almost the Italian apology to the world for Mussolini: do him RFK style but if your magazine jams, you can still load another round. JUST DO IT!

I actually love the gun and have changed the old joke from "Italian" to "French." As in, "classified ad: French army handgun. Never fired, dropped once."

Not that I needed much urging, but Sarkozy seems to have his head on straight. Now THERE'S change!

I'll call the range tomorrow and if she needs hunter safety classes first, I'll track them down next. Shouldn't be the hardest part of my day. (ACTUAL hardest part of my day? St. Louis.) (Side note: do you think the records are online now, or will I have to take the classes with her? What the heck - I'll be there anyway...)

Oh wait, I was wrong. The hardest part of my day tomorrow will be the ab crunches. Crud. I KNEW I was due again...

(Please note the real reason for my absence yesterday: the fact that I was trying to incorporate my Twitter feeds into the left sidebar and get rid of all the krep you guys have been seeing for years now that I never updated. The beauty is, this updates automatically from my phone as often as I choose to and as often as you hit 'F5'. I finally got the updates to show, but they don't "mesh" with the style of the page - as if it has any. Still working on that.)

It's rare that I'm able to completely shock The Wif during our conversations. Such is the nature of marriage, I suppose: the stories become more familiar even as the quirks and habits of the other become more familiar. There's something of a design to it.

The first time I, "saw the whites of her eyes" so to speak, was when I wandered upstairs without any pants on, (not to divulge too much personal information, but it's the truth). There have of course been plenty of times since that morning that I KNOW I've caught her by surprise; sometimes she's shown the fact but usually she tries to cover it up by acting all nonchalant. Like she was expecting something out of my gob already, and now that it's all over and done with she can finally get the coffee made.

Or something like that...

I think that maybe on a certain level she completely understands that showing I'm able to shock her will encourage me, (and the last thing anyone wants to do is encourage me to shock/bug them. I WILL oblige), so she's kept things pretty well under wraps for the past decade or so.

Until tonight.

Just tonight I told The Wif - in all, complete, seriousness - that I was ready to take "M" to the gun range. Marty Feldman would've laughed at her reaction: shock-still posture and eyes all bugging out. She also asked me about whether children would be allowed on the range and the eventual admission that she was "expecting this moment" but that it came before she was ready for it.

I understood her reaction because I know that a great number of things will enter her life L-O-N-G before I'm ready for them. But she's 7-and-a-half. Time to learn about firearms. Actually, past-time if you ask me.

As The Wif and I continued to talk about it, she calmed down, collected and replaced her eyeballs and eventually heard me out. Because the other half of my plan is to take her to Hunter Safety classes. In fact, she may need a cert from them before she's allowed on the range, (just thinkin' outloud).

My plan is to get her to the range, get her into the classes, (possibly in reverse order), and have her plink with my .22 and fire two shots from one of my .380s. We'll "practice" first with toy guns so she can be reinforced in the BIG concepts, ("EVERY gun is loaded EVERY time"), and then move onto things like how to align the sights.

And then we go live. We go to the range and I see if my Daughter can close the proper eye as she squeezes one off. Which is a phrase which means something completely different if I were talking about my Knuckleheads.

In the end? I'd like to get her a 5-shot .357 with a 3-inch barrel so she could carry a .38 load if she wanted, but could always go with the .357. For that matter, a revolver could handle the .380 or the 9mm loads if that was her decision. Not as much punch, but then - not as much punch-back.

Right now she weighs about 50 pounds, so recoil is a major issue. I'll have to stand right behind her for the time being, but I know she'll get the hang of it.

I have at least that much faith in my daughter...

So I went and saw my allergist this weekend. Or, rather, I let him see me. It was the catch before they'd allow me to renew a prescription, so I was kind of trapped. Such is the system, (just wait! It's sure to get better, right?), so I had to comply if I wanted the drugs.

Which - BTW - I'm not sure I wanted the drug in question, (Advair), but I'm finally mature enough to admit that they may be doing something, so I'm willing to give the doc the benefit of the doubt. Which I told him.

His response was surprising - in that he said he was "honored" that I had finally placed some Faith in a doctor and it was him - and he also understood my inability to fix a time, place and reason to my allergies.

Just being honest and all...

The long and the short of it is that I now have 2 nasal sprays, eyedrops and another inhaler to drag along on my field trips. That is, any "trip" outside of the house. This is just grand. Or so we'll find...

Also, on Friday, I raked the lawn. The FRONT lawn. Of course I had help and as things went on they eventually started to give out - even at one point hearing D-Man tell me, "I'm done, Daddy." I did my Fatherly Duty by informing him otherwise and he was quickly back at the task at hand.

Our oldest two took turns holding the bag and carrying stuff into it, but the best part is that I wasn't involved in the least: they took turns and shared/traded the gloves as they switched roles. I was left alone to rake the yard.

Those little ingrates...

Four big bags later - from such a tiny yard that's not yet clean - and I've come to a conclusion from raking my front yard: I really don't have one.

It's like going to take a shower only to realize that your bathrooms only have sinks. Or something more elequent than that, maybe.

The great news from other fronts is so great that I cannot share it with you. Let's just collectively say, "congrats," get through the summer and eventually celebrate the things we can talk about, eh?

By the time most of you read this, Spring will have sprung: something like 5:22 local time heralds the arrival of the latest equinox. Those of you who share the 720/303 area code will probably be asleep when it comes and if not, what the heck's the matter with you anyway?!?

More importantly, March is usually our snowiest month and so far we've gotten bupkiss. What's up with that? I mean, seriously, I may have to go ahead and shave my beard down to a goat and shear my head in order to insure a life-saving snow this month. Please people, don't let it come to that. Seriously - that would put me in a strange place:

That of admitting to being an old guy. And I'm just not ready to go there yet.

As for "March madness" and the rest of the stupidity surrounding "brackets" and the "ENN - CEE Double 'A'" krep -- who cares what YOU think?!? The teams are going to do what the teams are going to do. unless the whole thing is fixed...

Which means that you should either vote your hope or vote responsibly -- should the two waver in any regard. But that vote doesn't matter in the least.

Your teams will win or your teams will lose. You're not really involved, are you?

I'd also like to send thanks to the ONE person brave enough to respond to this weeks' posts. They were brave enough to respond with a comment this week whereas the little o supporters in the audience couldn't be bothered. I'd like to say that THAT says it all, but I'm still granting the benefit of the doubt where need be.

Seriously: bookmark yesterday's post and revisit as often as necessary. It meant something then and it will mean something in the future...

J.O.T.W...

A retiring farmer in preparation for selling his land, needed to rid his farm of animals. So he went to every house in his town.

To the houses where the man is the boss, he gave a horse. To the houses where the woman is the boss, a chicken was given.

He got toward the end of the street and saw a couple outside gardening. "Who's the boss around here?" he asked.

"I am." said the man.

"I have a black horse and a brown horse," the farmer said, "which one would you like?"

The man thought for a minute and said, "The black one."

"No, no, no, get the brown one." the man's wife said.

"Here's your chicken." said the farmer.

I'd like to address all the readers who went out last November and voted for the little o. I do this not to berate or belittle you but simply to ask a question: is THIS what you voted for - and if so, why?

I mean, if you thought George Bush was spending too much money - a common complaint - then can you possibly be happy with the TRILLIONS of dollars these people are pushing through in the dead of night? If you were bothered by so-called, "corporate welfare" how do you like all the corporate bailouts using your money? Happy with that?

But it gets better. If you were upset about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, guess what? The little o isn't going to end them anytime soon. (In fact, he's shifting troops around in an effort to make it look like he's doing something.) If you were bothered by the way the troops were treated, (not fully armoring Humvees, for example), then you must've LOVED yesterday's post. International relations your hot button? Then straining our relations with our oldest and strongest ally - not to mention angering the Great Bear and isolating Israel - must be just what you voted for, no?

If you were one of those up in arms about the "abuse" of the Constitution then you must be thrilled that congress is considering tax laws targeting specific individuals. I mean, it's not you - so it must be alright, right? (Never mind the fact that you never, EVER suffered the loss of a single right.) And the fact that the libs treat enemy combatants better than they do American businessmen is right up your alley, I suspect.

And the deficit? Fahgitaboutit...

So I seriously have to ask how you feel about your vote now. If you pay income tax, (half the country doesn't), you'll be paying more. Corporations are about to be taxed, but that's a fool's errand because corporations don't PAY taxes, they COLLECT them from their customers. (Some Americans still seem unable to grasp this concept: if you raise taxes on a company, they have to get their money from somewhere and -- just like congress -- they get it from you. Actually, that's an unfair comparison because you can choose where to shop; you can't decide whether or not you want to pay taxes.)

So what's different? Well, plenty, actually. I guess I should ask, "what's better?" This is rather like the 'Achmed the Dead Terrorist' bit where Jeff asks him, "well, did they say the virgins would all be women?" and 'Achmed' answers, "Holy $h!t!"

The guy promised change, and we've got change. Thing is, he never said it would be change for the better, and all you guys seem to have missed that. I know from my own life that as soon as you say, "things couldn't be worse," the Universe sets out to prove you wrong. Too bad so many of you decided to say, "it couldn't get worse."

Because you ain't seen nothing yet...

I can't believe it. Seriously: it's beyond my ability to put words together into coherent sentences. We will -- I mean, the agency will stop -- I mean, well, just read it for yourself. If you're not completely floored by it, then you weren't paying attention.

Seriously? Making private insurance pay for what the gubermint took on? How is this going to increase the rolls of the milit... Wait a minute. I think I see where this is headed and it stretches far beyond the needs of revenue.

I hope you're all happy 'n hopeNchangin'...

OH - and I forgot: Erin Go Bra-less! Happy St. Patrick's Day, Erin. Good luck with that...

Well, the first part of the title is a family legend passed down to us from the overly-active brain of my younger brother. I mean, his brain must be overly-active because it's produced so much heat that he's burned of the natural vegetation. Must be something going on in that melon, right?

At any rate, we were playing cards - as I recall - and my brother was completely engrossed in studying his hand, (this was before the days of "high stakes poker" and the only "high stakes" would've been dessert so we were likely playing Canasta), when our youngest brother sidled up next to him and started humming. As you might imagine, this was plenty annoying to the "middle" brother.

He finally looked at our "baby" brother and -- while meaning to ask either, "do you HAVE to do that?" or, "MUST you do that right here?" he looked him square in the face and said, "Do you must?!?"

For a good long time we used the phrase. As a family, it was a staple of our vocabulary. We enjoyed it and shared its history. It was fun.

Eventually it fell out of use and was rendered to the ashcan of family history, like all of these things do. It had served its purpose and we no longer needed it to convey what we wanted.

Until recently, (for me, anyway). It popped into my head when I heard a commercial for some local company - shows how effective the ad was - about giving credit for recycling print/toner cartridges. The announcer said, "save money, go GREEN!" And I immediately said, "do you must?"

Listen: I'm SICK TO DEATH of the whole "green" thing. Tired of hearing it from everyone and everywhere because they feel that's the way to "fit in" and get the blessing of the vast unwashed. "Green" this, already people!

Look - you want to "save the planet?" Go ahead and try (not that it needs your efforts). But suddenly "green" has become the merit badge that we all have to display in order to win the approval of all the other drones out there who think they can put a band-aid® on Mother Gaia and then proudly thump their chest in victory.

Who in the HELL do you think you are? Seriously?!? The EARTH needs YOU to put glass in one bin and plastics (type I) in another container and (type II) in yet another? Could a guy buy a break in this market?!?

I'm a through-and-through capitalist: show me the market and I'll probably be able to explain the forces behind it. As such, if "recycling" is so bloody important, why do they CHARGE you for doing it? If your waste was so valuable to these people, shouldn't THEY be paying YOU for the honor of turning it into new products? It's only common sense. But then common sense seems to be neither these days.

"Green?" Do you must?

...

I came home today, opened the garage and noticed The Wif's car was still here. This should not be: the kids all had gymnastics this afternoon - starting at 4:00 and going until 5:30 in various phases - so she should still be on her way home, instead of parked in the garage.

OK. So maybe she left early. Maybe "M" felt sick and was unable to complete her class. Maybe aliens invaded and *ZAPPED* the gym and they were able to scramble out with only their lives, (coats and shoes left behind). I didn't know the circumstance, but I knew something was wrong.

As I collected the trash cans from the curb - lest Eva Braun find her way back to my home - and brought the mail in, I noticed that there were still trash cans and mail outside. I'm bright that way...

And as I walked past the trailer I noticed that it was sitting at an angle. "Funny," I thought, "I don't remember parking it like that, but maybe it's an easy answer to helping The Wif to get her car out of the garage." Mind you, the trailer is a short sale as far as Stonestead futures are concerned, but I still need to pay attention to where it lands for now.

I entered the home only to find The Wif in tears. "I've had a bad day," she explained and I immediately noticed that D-Man was MIA. I tried to convince her to go to bed, but since she's so damn stubborn instead went upstairs and changed clothes and added cash to "M's" online lunch account. I soon learned that D-Man had thrown a fit, hit 'Sissy' with a sock repeatedly and then threw a HUGE fit when he couldn't go outside.

Nothing too far out of the ordinary. Then she hit me with her Mother's greatest fear, (if you catch my meaning): "I backed into the trailer."

Being something of a modern man but NOTHING near a so-called 'metrosexual,' I heard her out, let her cry on my shoulder, again asked her to go lie in bed and cry and watch Jon & Kate and leave the rest to me, but she'd have none of it. I also fought every urge in my body to rush right out and check the damage to her car. It just wouldn't have been right at the time.

Once I surveyed the damage, I realize that she'd done a really, really poor job of running into something and I ought to know: she only barely cracked the backup light portion of her lens and it was pretty hard to detect.

Amateur...

I'll have to straighten the trailer by hand - no small task that - and I should probably jump right on epoxy-ing her lens lest it spread into the hundreds of dollars. I'd actually guess that I wouldn't, but I haven't yet changed a bulb in her car yet, so it may be worth the effort. We'll see.

...

As for AIG and the bonuii, I could honestly care less. Oh sure I know that its got much of the country's collective panties in a wad, but they may as well be talking about the effect of butterfly flatulence on global warming (see above) as far as I'm concerned. So let me start from the beginning...

The "bailout" never should have happened. Or maybe it should have. I'm ambivalent on the topic because the dems in congress forced banks to make bad loans to people who should never have been able to buy a house in the first place. Then again, nobody told these institutions to invest in bad packages. It's a lose-lose at that point.

Then failures start on the horizon. The gubermint - in its "wisdom" - decides that some are worth saving and others aren't, (are you paying attention, all you universal health care fans?!?!???). Taxpayer money, (because there is NO SUCH THING as 'government money'), flows in one direction but not another. To here but NOT there and all decided by the same people who brought you the tax code.

Grand.

As for me? To heck with it. They could start small fires with 100 dollar bills in company ashtrays for all I care. The bailout shouldn't have happened in the first place. After that what they do with my money is their business. Want to launch a search party to hunt leprechauns? Go for it. Loch Ness Monster needs a chiropractor? Put it on the company card. You want to honor the contracts you've signed?

I'm sorry. This is a new era and signing something - an employment contract, a mortgage agreement, an investment disclosure - - that's JUST! SO! 1996! Get with the time, bub!

So I spent Sunday at Church. No big surprise there for anyone who's paying attention. What changed was the simple fact that - after the service - I went to the pianist's home with my trailer in tow because he was forced into a move.

And I decided to help out -- but for a very good reason; namely that I didn't dare run afoul of the Baptist Army...

Some of you will remember that when we moved the call was sent out and was resoundingly answered with a broad "YES!" by members and former-members of our church: they showed up in droves and moved everything that couldn't move itself. (Which was good, because we'd still be going through boxes looking for Bink otherwise.) Well, the same happened today and it was kind on funny to be on the other end of things.

I was the first on the scene and was quickly joined by a friend from another venue. Good enough; many hands make for light work, right? So we started with the boxes that were destined for the new place. That took about 40 minutes and in the meantime we were joined by the guitarist and bassist who immediately pitched in.

Pretty soon, the time came when we needed to get things down from the bedrooms. Much like myself a year and a half ago, our host tried to minimize our role in the whole thing: we heard stuff like, "leave the little things - I'll get them tomorrow," only to see the shocked look on his face when the things came down the stairs and found their place on the truck.

EXACTLY what I experienced.

So we pretty much got him moved and in the process I learned another "hard" truth: I can no longer back a trailer into the space I want it. KREP! And I was so good at it at one time!

This leaves me with only one option: I'll have to take one day per week, hook up the trailer, drive it around the neighborhood, (I took the time to put on the new plates and fix my truck's broken light/cover this weekend), and then back it into the driveway. Because LORD knows it took me about 20 tries to get it even close tonight.

Of course, the other option is that The Wif is about to - now that it's properly licensed - give the trailer away on Craigslist. So I'll never have to worry about backing a trailer up ever again. Right?

RIGHT?!?!

Courtesy of the Patriot Post:

I was teaching my daughter Pig Latin tonight at bed time. I told the cat to "amscray" and it opened up the whole thing. I naturally assumed she'd learn it from friends at school, but so far she hasn't. Slackers.

I saw something called "Pibb Extra" at a restaurant the other night. I was hoping the "extra" bit might be taste, but I was too afraid to try it.

Let me get this straight: 95% of Americans are going to get a tax cut while spending is going through the roof? Not even Harry Potter himself could make those numbers work. Who still believes this crap?

My youngest son is so much like me that The Wif is trying to recall each and every detail of March, 2005. Just to be sure...

The weather has been so nice lately that when I heard an ad for a ski rental place today I immediately thought, "well, it'll be a long time before people are skiing again." Talk about your temporal disturbance!

Watching it today, the CGI in "The Terminator" makes "Clash Of The Titans" look like "Toy Story." It was cool at the time, though.

Speaking of time travel flicks, I watched "Deja Vu" the other night as I normally get to watch movies: about 20 minutes at a time. That was NOT a movie that lent itself to my viewing style.

Another would be "Memento." FANTASTIC flick, but put the cat out, bring the dog in, put the kids to bed, (I originally wrote, "put the kids down" and realized that it carried certain overtones I wanted to avoid), and unplug the phone before trying that one. In fact, you may want to make sure the spouse is out of town at the time. Definitely NOT for beginners.

Since you brought up movies, (you didn't? Strange - you're usually so helpful), I should probably let my Netflix queue take a breather; I have so many movies yet to watch stored on my computer that my queue has dwindled to about 11 movies. Time to catch up. Probably.

Watching Jeff Dunham and Walter is a sure source of coughing, and coughing is a sure way to loosen phlegm. I should be able to deduct my ISP bill as a medical expense.

"The wheel is turning but the hamster's dead." Classic. I'll have to steal that one.

One of the audience members in "The Running Man" received the "ICS Video set." Hell, she could've gotten that just by visiting the White House. (Of course, you'll never get the details from NPR, but they're out there.)

Yes: I didn't get anywhere near the embryonic stem call research issue yesterday because I don't believe we're quite to that point yet. I mean, as seriously as some of us come to the issue - from either side - I simply believe that when most of us believe that our jobs are in jeopardy and our finances are in danger and we won't be able to feed our families, it's time to be slightly more pragmatic.

That doesn't mean that I've surrendered my Belief. No, not in the least. It simply means that I realize that food on the table comes before political rhetoric - or, unfortunately - moral truth. It's sad, but we've been warned about it for about 2,000 years now...

I'm against all forms of research that destroys embryos. Just so you know. I mean, I was once one and if things had gone differently you wouldn't have this drivel to read today.

(Oh stop wishing it had happened, already. You chose to come her of your own free will.)

It's just that -- however you choose to phrase it -- this is playing with human life at the expense of every American.

Now, did you notice that? I did exactly what members of the LSM are doing now in being honest with you. For some reason, they couldn't manage that when the so-called "ban" was announced - leading many liberals and moderates down a path of complete ignorance - but they're sure to clarify things now: the little o has lifted a ban on FEDERAL FUNDING of the research, as well as lifting the ban on only experimenting on certain [genetic] lines of embryos.

Never mind that they quote "science" in the name of speaking out against science, (adult/umbilical stem cells have shown far more promise), or never mind that in the midst of gigantic budget shortfalls - sure to be around for decades - that somehow we've ignored the fact that private companies WERE NEVER banned from doing stem cell research; they just couldn't do it with federal money beyond the bounds set for them.

It's the typical dishonesty we've come to expect. But in less than 60 days?

Yikes. At this rate the little o's first 100 days is going to look like most other Presidents' first term. Why do we need to do EVERYTHING right away? Well, the nimrod answer is "things are such a mess we have to move quickly." The correct answer was accurately stated by the Chief Of Staff, (who out there even knows who that is - much less his political reputation?), who said that you don't want to let a crisis go to waste. Well, that and the fact that we have one-party rule at the moment.

Of course, the 1,500 press agents known as the LSM couldn't be bothered to report the Chief's comment. HELL no - that would give away the game. So I honestly don't expect many people out there to be aware of the comment, (you could Google it if you don't believe he actually said it). And perhaps not even what he means by it.

Which is this: keep the people panicked, call pork-project legislation the "Puppies Are Cute Bill," continue to talk down the economy - repeat. If you doubt me, well, I just proved it to you...

Does anyone remember econ 101? Remember the tools the government has to affect the economy? I'll spot you one: printing money, (which we're doing like crazy. we're going to make Mugabe's 100 billion dollar note look like chump change). Another tool is, "jawboning." Now, in my econ class - taken just after the earth cooled - we were told that jawboning was largely a tool of the President, and we're seeing that that's still the case. Kinda.

The problem today is that there are so many cheerleaders with good hair and a teleprompter out there that if the President wants to talk down the economy, he's got more than enough outlets to get his message out quickly and widespread-ly. Which begs the question: WHY is he still talking down the economy? I mean, he won for Pete's sake! Shouldn't he be doing all he can to reassure the American people that things are on the mend, the earth is cooling and we'll ventilate our homes with unicorn flatulence? So why not?

Because "you don't want to waste a good crisis." That's it. If people re-gain their confidence and things get better, the next so-called "stimulus" bill will be greeted with shrugs; "why do we need this?" and that simply won't do. Follow the pattern: panic->excessive spending/gubermint expansion->talk down the economy.

Maybe we're all as dumb as the dems think we are, (well, not ALL of us), and believe that they can pass everything they want to if they name it properly. Knowing that most Americans have NEVER read a piece of legislation that may be a fair guess. Or maybe they want to get all this done before things pick up.

Heck, they may even realize that Americans have a collective memory as long as a fly's leg and they're afraid they'll be booted out in 2010. Who knows? But I know what they're doing and why. And now you do too...

Here's a similar - much better - article. It's definitely worth a look and those of you who support the "Puppies Are Cute Bill" should be forced to read it at gunpoint.

Oy. But first, the first blessing: The Wif is home safe and sound. We went and picked her up Friday evening and all went well. UNTIL we left the airport, that is...

As we were nearing the "toll booth," I noticed that even though I'd been driving her car around all week, I'd forgotten to fuel it up. And it was on "E." AND the "check gage" light - not a typo - was on. And we had an appointment to get to.

Well, what happened was perfectly predictable: we ran out of gas. Exactly the welcome The Wif was expecting, right?

So we're parked on the side of Pena and I'm setting off in the frigid wind without a coat - because who knew I'd need one - in search of the gas station. I crest the hill and look down the road only to realize that the gas station was MUCH further away than I thought it was. And it was freezing.

As I was out contracting hypothermia, The Wif had called our appointment and here's where things get kinda cool: She was supposed to deliver a friends' cell phone because she'd (the friend) left it in the hotel where they were staying and the front desk decided she'd (The Wif) be the right choice to take it back home. We'd already made the arrangements and the friend's husband was on the way out to pick it up.

So by the time I'd returned - shaking and shivering - to the family and car, she'd already let them know that we were stranded. The (other) husband agreed to come to our position and take me to get gas. Fortunately, a Taco Bell was close by.

I'm kidding. But I would have squeezed every drop of grease out of a burrito into the gas tank to try and get us going again.

As we were waiting for him to arrive, one of Denver's Finest pulled up behind us and let the lights fly. As excited as the kids are to see The Bad Boys I thought it would be a kind of a cool thing for them to go through, and knowing that I hadn't really done anything wrong and all would go well, I expected them to enjoy it.

WRONG! "M" decided that she'd put her seat belt back on, "just to be sure" and Binky was completely freaked out: "Mommy - I want you!" Just as the officer left - and Binky was asking when "the guys with the gas" were coming - our friend pulled up.

I hopped out and he took me to the station. I SWEAR to you my main fear was that the station wouldn't have gas cans for sale and I would be an even greater burden on him. Fortunately, they did indeed sell gas cans. Unfortunately, the can and 1 gallon of gas cost almost ten dollars. Fortunately, we got both.

Once back at the car/family, I fiddled with the gas can until I got it working, installed the push-O-line and thanked our rescuer by calling him a "lifesaver." We then drove to the gas station with him behind us, put 19.975 gallons into a 20 gallon tank, thanked him again and got going.

Bink asked where the "lifesaver guy" was. He never got to see him and I think he was the worse for it...

OH - and during my chilly walk I was of course formulating a plan. I'd left my phone in the car which was actually a very good thing; it allowed The Wif to do her thing and me to do mine. Which was pretty much freeze to death.

I was going to call my folks. Would've been about an hour. I had decided to call Dood and even though he lives much more closely it would've been two hours. (I kid because I love!) And then after that I was going to hope that a "courtesy patrol" would wander along and help us out. (Actually - the cop offered that SORT of help, but it came in the form of an offer to call a wrecker and have us TOWED to the gas station. And I thought ten dollars was an expensive bill!)

Finally, I just prayed for a quick and easy solution. By the time I got back to the car, that prayer was answered...

So - this being my week "off" and all - I went out and spent roughly 20% of my award on a little something for myself: an LCD TV. I had my heart set on plasma, but as I walked through Wal-Mart, (yes, I shop at Wal-Mart and so do you), I kept a careful eye on a set that I knew would fit on top of the dresser. Which raises an interesting question: are TVs still called a "set?" And if so, a 'set' of what, exactly?

At any rate, I walked through the aisles eyeballing this thing from every possible angle I might see it from in our room - OK, not EVERY POSSIBLE angle, but close enough - and concluded that it would do fine. As I lifted it into the cart I found that it weighed less than my youngest son but still decided to go with it. With one exception: I had to clear it with the boss.

I texted her, asking if it was alright just before I got a burger and fries. Oh, and took a second to check out teenage cleavage as it abounded around the in-store Mickey D's. What a waste of time THAT was. I mean, what's the point? Teens who run around with abundant cleavage are like 12 year old boys who own a Ferrari; they have the equipment but neither knowledge, experience nor ability with any of it.

Oh man - that took a weird turn. Back to the story...

I went ahead and checked out figuring I'd just hang onto the receipt if I didn't get the go-ahead. So I'd already gone-ahead at that point. I was home before I got the response: "Sure. On what?" Here's the fun part. I got to set the thing up, connect the satellite box and the new DVD player, hunt down an extension cord, (I'm still waiting for the circuit to blow), and watch my Netflix on my new setup.

It was Hellboy II. It had its problems, but NONE of them were on MY end: A beautiful picture, great sound. FANTASTIC.

The TV of my dreams and it makes the movies I love come to life. Now I'm on the trail of a way to connect my computer to it so I can use it as a monitor. It won't be the most convenient way to view the movies I've already recorded, but it would really be something. It's not perfect - for example, I'd like an option to hear everything that's being input into it - but it's a start.

MAN! It's great to be alive in this day and age...

My daughter is becoming the worst sort of wife one could imagine. Seriously; it's only getting worse as the week rolls on.

And of course I'm not talking about her becoming MY wife in The Wif's absence - although I guess I kind of am in a completely harmless -- to her -- way - but she's felt the need to step up and take over completely. Everything short of actually driving the car - although she's so willing with directions that I actually said, "Yes, Dear" to her yesterday - she's decided that she needs to have a hand in.

I wrote yesterday about our "being a nag" conversation. It didn't take. (The Witch) So now I'm at a crossroads: do I let her continue to be a little (careful here) bitch in order to scare the little blond boys away, ("You can't play soccer in the street!" "Why are you riding your bike without a helmet?" "Don't you know that cheeseburgers are bad for you?!?" "Soccer balls are supposed to be white and black - that one's green and purple!"), or do I try to correct her behavior so she'll end up as fine a wife as her Mother is?

Seriously, I'm torn: each side has its merits...

My "tweet" - for such is what they are called - was, "Nothing can make a father cry like a 7 year old daughter." I suspect that's about right but will have to wait for the Fall to see if an 8 year old can do any better.

I suspect so...

Here's the story, (and I fear that I have to say that because it starts just strangely enough that many of you might otherwise - and still may - flee to parts unknown just by reading the first sentence. Which is hence:): the electricity in my daughters' room doesn't work right. I mean, I suspect that there is enough juice in every outlet to send one to their Final Reward should it come to it, but the wires are crossed just enough that there's no chance of actually running a device from any of them.

Except the switched one, which runs the lamp and nothing else. Again, fears of sparks, destruction of equipment, fire, explosion and nuclear winter keep us from trying another device ANYwhere in her room. This is of course a problem.

MY problem, natch.

My little girl has a Hello Kitty clock radio in need of a plug, (so to speak). She also has an MP3 player that would benefit from a set of computer speakers that - you guessed it - would also need to be plugged into the wall, (especially since we won't allow her to use earbuds/plugs/headsets. She currently uses some cheap, battery-powered speakers). And we're staring down the barrel of hair dryers, curlers/irons, black lights and who-the-heck-knows what all else.

In short, I have to get the whole thing together and working and soon. In shorter, I'm going to check it out myself, first. I know a bit about electricity and may be able to save myself a thousand or so here and there, so I'll run the meter today and we'll see how that goes.

But that's NOT the point: tonight as I was tucking the kids in, I explained to my daughter that I'd need to fix the outlets in her room. She could make good use of her alarm clock and it wouldn't kill us to have outlets available for other uses. I pointed to one I knew about behind her nightstand, another I was aware of behind her bed and said, "we'll get at least those two fixed so you can use them."

She then said, "...and there's one behind my desk."

Normally, this wouldn't have bothered me but tonight it turned into a discussion on nagging. Namely, she became more familiar with the term because I told her she was being one.

(I know: SHOCK! and HORROR! Do your worst, I'll wait.)

...

(You done? OK, let's move on.)

The first part of the discussion was the definition, because it was a word she'd never heard before. I NEVER call The Wif/Her Mother a nag in front of her. For that matter, I NEVER call her a nag at any other time because she's not. PlainNSimple. The Wif - and I should be telling HER this rather than you - is nearly PERFECT as a Wif. I may have messed up the first time 'round, but I NAILED it on the second/last go 'round: patience, love, acceptance, willingness, huge boobs -- I got it all.

(That was just a test to see if any of her friends are reading. But only kinda.)

She's wonderful and that's exactly what I told our daughter: "Your Mommy is a great wife because she doesn't ever do what you just did."

OK. That sounds like a harsh lesson but it's pretty much what I told my girl: Mommy is a great wife because she's not the nag you are.

Oh, man. Let me re-work this. Hold on... OK. That's kinda what I said to "M" - and it gets the message that I intended across - but it's not actually what I said. The point I was trying to get across was that she doesn't always have to be right. Or rather, that she learn to shrug. Either way.

I mean, her Mother has long since learned that she can BE right without having to be proven right, or that she is usually right about most things - but can shrug on those rare occasions when Daddy is right. The secret is that there are lines drawn along certain areas of life: one works better on THIS side of the line and the other works better on - well - the other. It then falls to us to claim the turf we really, REALLY want.

And I shared with my little girl THAT definition of a "nag:" they always have to be right about everything. And then I had to tell her that she was being one.

But the part that made me cry - and I'm not kidding here - is when I had to explain why I was telling her that. It's bad enough telling a 7 year old girl that she's being a nag. But for a father, it's the heartache of heartache to tell her that you're preparing her to be a good wife.

And let's not even get started on the whole, "I'd take a bullet for you," concept...

I got to tell our story to a young lady at tumbling class this morning. I guess that - having lived it - it's not nearly as interesting to me as it seems to be to other people, and that's just fine. I suppose. It's just strange how it comes into play.

And seriously - I want you guys to tell me if you think I'm just too free-wheeling and open with it. I'm not trying to brag or boast or anything; I just find the whole thing somewhat interesting, (still), and think that if I share our story with someone that maybe they can help some kids we're just not able to anymore.

At any rate, I was sitting on a bench at the old hockey rink during tumbling class when a young Mom next to me picked up on the fact that 2 of the boys there were both waving at me. Concluding correctly that they were both mine, she asked how "far apart" they were.

Instead of answering with the Dad answer of, "oh, about 18 feet" I told her my boys were 1 year and 1 day "apart." After almost knocking her off the bench, she asked, "was that Planned?!?

Well, you got me there, lady. Can we move on to the lightning round -- you know, where I throw electrical bolts at your butt until you leave me the Hell alone?

...

HA! Actually, she was a very nice young broad and we got along well. I discussed the process and told her our story and kind of at one point felt a little guilty that our kids weren't all Chinese girls, but then I quickly realized that the wardrobe we have would be just ridiculous on Chinese girls.

I'm watching a complete waste of time in the other window called, "Dolly Dearest." It's the worst compilation of every sniff of a stereotype that ever existed and it's a complete, warm, steaming pile. But I have to finish it tonight because tomorrow I'll have the day to myself and am intent on watching a little something called "Ishtar." I have high hopes for that one...

Just because I HAVE to mention it, do we all know about the stock market? Does ANYone remember taking Econ in school? The stock market (or "Dow" as it's come to be familiarized), is a forward-looking indicator. That means that in general, traders take a look at conditions as they are, and trade, (buy or sell), stock based on what they think WILL HAPPEN in the next six months to a year!

Of course the day's news will have an effect on a day's trading and there could always be a sour trader in the mix, but as a general rule the market goes by what they SEE happening in the future.

So what do YOU think they're seeing? Why do you think the market is down so much, so fast, so recently, (remembering that the market LOOKS TO THE FUTURE)? How could it be that every time The One addresses his great unwashed, the market looses 300 points?

Questions - just questions. But they lead to something: they lead to answers. And to rules. And here's a new one:

If you voted for the little o, you no longer have a right to complain about the losses to your 401(k) or TSP. After all, this is exactly what you wanted.

Change you can believe in. Now stop your bitching...

Ok - if I was slippery last week I apologize: it wasn't THEN that The Wif was going to be gone, but rather THIS Week. So this is the big Yikes!

I'll survive - as will we all - but the kids may be a bit late to this or that commitment. After all, they have busier social calendars than I do. AND I'M NOT KIDDING!! We have one of those "family planning" calendars, (not the one that includes aborting the baby, but I think you get the idea), and my column is almost bare: it has has "RDO" listed for every other Friday, (meaning "Really Dense Oligarch"), but beyond that, I may as well not be listed at all.

Which begs the question as to why I AM listed at all; but that's a question for another time...

QUESTION: How do you know you've married a control freak?

ANSWER: When you're me.

The Wif has prepared a two-page document for the week that contains every possible excuse/purpose/answer for what I'm to face this week: it includes time tables and schedules and even takes the time to mention who's the "yogurt carrier" for the day. As if "HEY YOU!" doesn't work. Has she even tried it? I mean, who has the scientific mind here?!? Have you even TRIED "Hey You?!?" Seriously, I would guess that "Hey You!" would work whether it's our kid or just someone passing though the neighborhood:

"Hey You!"

"Who, me?"

"Yeah - Ok. Want to carry our yogurt into the school?"

"Well, I was going to -- well, OK, I guess."

"Good. Come on over here and hold this while I get the boys out of their carseats. You'll have to remind them that they're in a parking lot."

"Look - I was just going to go..."

"Nevermind that now - you're holding our yogurt, aren't you?

"Well, yes"

"So keep a firm upper lip - so to speak.

"And.........?

"Oh, we'll get to you."

"When?"

Whenever