TERROR ALERT LEVEL:

This krep was posted:

Octember 2009
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Older stuff...

— 2009 —

Septober 2009

August 2009

July 2009

June 2009

Same guy, different krep...
Father Knows

Things to put in your head...

Friends...

Everyday reads...

Read on his terms...
Lileks

Stuff for your ears...

 

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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.

Okay. So Friday arrives to much fanfare and a generous welcome and The Wif & I decide to "laze it out" by ordering pizza. Easy enough but not well-thought-through: D-Man has a birthday party the next day at a rink that I wasted far too much time and money at back in the day. (In fact, they still had a Ms. Pac-Man machine that looked awfully familiar...) The skating floor was re-surfaced in the cheapest way possible but it worked. Not that I'd have a huge frame of reference, but it seemed smooth enough once I got out there.

Again.

Yes; I revisited the scene of the crime and was reminded of an eternal truth that had evaded me two decades ago: sometimes you hold the hand of someone who skates as well as you do, sometimes you hold the hand of someone who pulls you along and sometimes you hold the hand of someone who needs your help just to stay up.

As a teenage boy you want neither the second nor the latter; someone on par with you - yet still impressed by your ability to skate backwards - is ideal. As a Father, decades later, the last is the best: my son needed me to help hold him up. We made our way 'round the rink as he clung to the side or to my side and I managed to skate on ahead in order to take pictures of him on his way.

(I will not mention the vast gap in technology that we could have taken full advantage of "back in the day," but will instead post pics and any available film of my son forthwith. Still -- there was a blonde who tore up the floor in any number of ways and if only there were cell phones or digital cameras available at the time...)

But eventually we had a lunch of... ... pizza. Again with the pizza. Only this time I was on skates and realized that the host-dad wasn't quite so tall as he seemed because he was - at one time - on skates. My son went around the rink once, took off his skates and hung out or watched for the birthday boy because they're best buddies.

I put on my skates and after just a couple of minutes remembered all the moves I'd used and scared the krep out of my boy. I didn't leave him alone long enough to even get injured, but skated ahead so I could get a video of him and that was enough to cause him distress.

But I got the video...

And then there was today; we got up on time and made it to church. Not an easy feat because the fog was low, the kids were talking and The Wif was The Wif. Fortunately, I think she remembered that I'm the Master Of Fog and can divine my way through traffic, (the left lane is usually empty, but just make sure you're not going the same way I am), and we got there early enough that I could have ushered.

(I didn't have to.)

We left church, (great time with the youth band on the stage: tremendous guys/gals), and headed down the hill and through the snow. One might think, "over the river and through the woods," but we were headed home and NOT to Grandma's. I guess life never lives up to our expectations...

...

And it is with great fanfare that I announce that My Lovely Daughter is now 8 years old. Oh, I know how surprising that will be to many of you but I'm here to tell you that I've not only got the papers here but that I've checked them twice and re-checked them thrice and there's no way around the truth:

She's 8.

Oy.

This is only another step in the long march of Her Vs. Me and I'm thankful that she doesn't yet understand that she holds all the power. I mean, her Mother does, why wouldn't she? I'm just a stooge, right?

Well, not really: I get to define lines and boundaries and once I've said what is what and who is who - and what's/who's allowed in my house, (for I own the guns and work for the house, I guess), that's pretty much it. The Wif understands what I'll allow and acts as the Gatekeeper for our daughter. I define her clothes and what she can wear out, but The Wif oversees what passes her body and my boundaries.

Oh - and her party? Well, we had pizza. Just one cheese but it wasn't nearly enough. I've got a full fridge of meaty 'Za and pepperoni - mushrooms paid for NOT included - but the girls left in need of cheese pizza. The Wif said, "next year, 2 cheese pizzas!" but that'll be wrong too. Kids change, pizza changes and addresses change.

Happy New...

And NOW... (a drum roll please)...

The most fun ways to spend a trip on an elevator!

Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering, "Shut up, dammit! All of you just shut UP!"

Whistle the first seven notes of 'It's a Small World' incessantly.

Sell Girl Scout cookies.

On a long ride, sway side to side at the natural frequency of the elevator.

Shave. With an open blade and visible strop.

Crack open your briefcase or purse, and ask: "Still got enough air in there?"

Offer name tags to everyone getting on the elevator. Wear yours upside-down.

Stand silent and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without ever leaving the car.

When arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act embarrassed when they open by themselves.

Greet everyone getting on the elevator with a warm handshake and ask them to call you Admiral.

On the highest floor, hold the door open and demand that it stay open until you hear the penny you dropped down the shaft go 'plink' at the bottom.

Practice your Tai Chi.

Stare, grinning, at another passenger for a while, and then announce: "My socks don't match!"

When at least 8 people have boarded, moan from the back, "Oh, not now!" and fake vomiting sounds.

Meow occasionally.

Frown and mutter "gotta go, gotta go" then sigh and say "oops!"

Show other passengers a wound and ask if it looks infected.

Sing 'Mary had a little lamb' while pushing buttons to the rhythm.

Holler 'Chutes away!' whenever the elevator descends.

Leave a box between the doors.

Ask each passenger getting on if you can push the button for them. Cry if they say "no."

Wear a puppet on your hand and talk to other passengers 'through' it.

Start a sing-along. Preferably something like "Michael Row The Boat Ashore" that will stick in their heads all day.

When the elevator is silent, look around and ask "is that your pacemaker?"

Play the harmonica. Especially if you don't know how to.

Shout "Ding!" at each floor.

Lean against the button panel. Be sure to hit as many buttons as possible.

Say "I wonder what these do" as you push the red buttons.

Listen to the elevator walls with a stethoscope.

Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers that this is your "personal space" and you'd, "really appreciate it" if they respected it.

Unfold a lawn chair along the way.

Blow spit bubbles. Out of your nose, if possible.

Pull your gum out of your mouth in long strings. If you're not chewing gum, pull it out of someone else's mouth in long strings. Be sure to replace it as you leave the car.

Carry a blanket and clutch it protectively.

Make explosion noises whenever anyone presses a button.

Wear 'X-Ray Specs' and leer suggestively at other passengers.

Stare at your thumb and say 'I think it's getting larger.'

If anyone brushes against you, recoil and holler 'Bad touch!'

As advertised (above), today was rather an odd one. Nothing bad - hopefully - just a bit... off, if you know what I mean. Sort of a 'finding a cat in your sock drawer' instead of 'finding a human head in your freezer' type of day. So not bad - hopefully...

I started the day as I do most Wednesdays, at work. Well, after brushing, showering, dressing and driving, that is. A few hours in the office and then off to the doctor's. The very fact that I deigned to burn 5 hours of my nearly 300 hours of sick leave is a bit remarkable. I've got so much time saved up - time which means absolutely nothing to me unless I actually use it - that I'm actually considering scheduling the surgery on my rotator cuff in order to burn them off. It's only the fact that I've heard recovery from the surgery is one of the more painful things you'll ever go through that keeps me from calling my other doc tomorrow.

Anyway, much time at the allergist's without too much of a result - aside from having the hot new nurse force me to feel her up as she took my blood pressure. (I'm dying to see how THAT'S listed on my bill!)

When I finally got home I had my latest Netflix waiting for me. It's a flick from Ghost House Underground called "The Substitute" about a substitute 6th grade teacher who turns out to be a murderous alien from outer space. Sounds like I'll need to clear about 100 minutes from my busy schedule sometime soon!

At any rate, I copied the movie to my hard drive and was on my way to the post office to return it, (fast turn-around being the way you really win at the Netflix game), when The Wif asked if I was going to pick up the little monsters. This confused me because we normally don't collect them until about 5:45 or so - meaning I would have had time to watch my movie, but it was simply not meant to be.

As I went into the school Bink started crying because I walked through his room in order to get the other two. He's going through a terrible time with separation anxiety right now. I know I should just sit back and enjoy it because it won't be but a few years before he'll want nothing to do with me, but crying is more deadly to a father than mustard gas was to a doughboy.

As I enter MLD's classroom the teacher is holding my daughter's arm with one hand and a thermometer under MLD's arm with the other. "She's burning up," I'm told. Great. I then notice she has the phone sitting on the table next to her; she was about to call us to come get her anyway. Guess I showed up at the right time.

Once home neither MLD nor D-Man wanted anything to eat for dinner. Both excused from the table they changed into their pajamas and fell asleep on the couch and recliner. This was just getting more and more fun. The good news is that Bink showed absolutely no sign of the grippe and even seemed to be feasting on the remains of the energy the other two left behind. Honestly, I don't know whether he's easier to deal with when he's fully healthy or just a bit under the weather. I want him healthy of course, but man -- he's a handful.

So the questions remain for now: how will they wake up tomorrow? Will they be in good spirits with their fever thrown to the wind or will I need to burn some more sick leave so they can go in and be tested for N1H1? And, how long until I come down with whatever krep they have?

I have two quick movie reviews for you. Let's start with the easy one. Avoid - at all costs - a little something called, "Star Slammer." Or "Prison Ship." Or any of another few names. See, when I typed in "Star Slammer," in order to track down an actress from the film, IMDB re-routed me to a page titled, "Prison Ship," but which had the promotional poster saying "Star Slammer." Somewhat confusing. Then I saw that the movie had those other titles and I realized that while some movies have many titles due to foreign releases and translation problems, this one had other titles for a very simple reason. It was trying to hide. Sort of a witness relocation program for lousy films.

The other movie - and you must promise not to be scared off by the title - was "Ghost Town." It stars Ricky Gervais and Greg Kinnear opposite Tea Leoni. It's an interesting flick about a man who briefly dies and from then on can see and communicate with the dead as they wander the streets. They of course ask him for favors and he - being a selfish man - can only focus on what he wants.

It's a chick flick to be sure but it's sort of "chick flick lite." I survived it, so it couldn't be too bad, right?

Well, let's start with politics and then we'll move into the culture. Could'a gone either way with this but this is as good as the other. Let's get started...

It seems that the white house's "communication czar," (BTW - do you know why we suddenly have all these 'czars?' Because a 'czar' doesn't have to be confirmed by the Senate. Hmmm; given the fact that the president's party controls the senate with an iron fist, what could he be afraid of by giving his choices a full hearing? Read on...), during a speech to schoolchildren cited her favorite philosophers as Mother Teresa and - get ready for it - "chairman" mao.

That's right, "chairman" mao. The guy personally responsible for the deaths of over 70 MILLION of his own people. Pretty full schedule, that guy. But this is the person to whom King Barry's new czar turns to when struggling with the issues of politics. This of course leads to several questions:

Since this was a speech given at an American public school, did the students in attendance even know who "chairman" mao was - aside from a guy that makes really yummy chicken? Had they even heard his name before and could they identify the political movement he headed? How about if this unconfirmed ditz (she's confirmed as a ditz, but unconfirmed by the senate for her position) had listed adolf hitler as one of her heroes? Shouldn't that go over better than mao if only because hitler only killed about one-tenth the number mao put into the ground?

And what these morons have done for our public schools they're about to do for your health care. I sure "Hope" that "Change" grabs you right by the prostate...

The other thing that made my head spin was hearing that this administration wants to spearhead an effort through the ever-worthless u.n. that would officially recognize islam as a "peaceful" religion and bemoan attacks against its practitioners across the world. Now, I've really got to say something about this; I never went in with those who claimed - during the campaign - that the little o was actually a muslim just pretending to be Christian. I thought it marginalized those of us with deeper, more philosophical resistance to his plans, frankly.

While I'm still not ready to throw in with that crowd I do tend to pick up my ears quite a bit more than I used to when I hear these stories and watch this administration's response to the world's hotspots. Namely, they appease the islamists at the cost of every other religion. Never mind that members of the religion obama claims to embrace - Christianity - are being prosecuted around the globe -- mostly by members of the religion he claims to reject, but forgives at every opportunity.

I mean, we can't have perceived ills being cast upon members of a "peaceful" religion who are ready to separate head from neck of anyone who dares draw a picture of their prophet now, can we?

And to get on my high-horse yet again about the state of our culture/society is one of the great joys of my life. Mainly because those of you out there who know my story can chuckle and shake your head at the stances I'm taking now. So enjoy this laugh on your humble host...

I heard the strangest report the other day that I had to just sit back and let it marinate for a time before I was able to come to a conclusion. The story? That "call girls" (read: prostitutes) have had to drop their rates and 'expand their services' in order to attract customers. Now, I immediately thought about that latter part first: "expand their services?" Wha...? I mean, I would imagine that they might well have a variety of services but don't they pretty much stay within the boundaries of a certain, um... field?

So what are they doing now - picking up your dry cleaning? Detailing your car? Ironing your shirts? Hey, I've got a Wife for those things!

(Please submit all complaints via the regular channels. If you know what I mean.)

So these professional ladies are dropping their rates as well. Interesting development and it took me a minute or two to figure it out -- mainly owing to my complete removal from the circumstances surrounding such things. It would seem that - given the state of the "modern woman" - the services of professionals are simply not in as demand as they used to be. Since 18-30somethings and beyond are so eager to jump in the sack with any guy that can manage to string three words together, the "men" in question are not only free from obligation to them, but they're also free to pursue any manner of variety their ...um... heart desires.

Congratulations, "ladies:" You've come a long way, baby. All of it backwards...

Yikes. MLD is - not that this has anything to do with today's title - ...is about to turn 8. It's already a big, bad scary world out there and now I have to face the fact that my little girl, (she doesn't yet hate me for saying that about her), is that much closer to entering it and having to face it down all on her own. I hope to arm her, (literally if need be), and prep her by surrounding her with other young ladies who are truly ladies. I hope that's enough and given the quality of the people I've set about surrounding my family with, I think it will be.

LORD have mercy but it's like so much else about parenting: "we'll see."

You may choose to believe what I'm about to say or you can discount it out of hand, but it's true either way: when the "balloon boy" story broke - I caught the furious tweets via Twitter - it instantly hit me that something just didn't pass the sniff test about the whole thing. I just kept thinking, "what kind of a father builds such an absurd thing but doesn't protect his own son from such danger?

Ok, maybe that's just me, but that's what I thought; what kind of a father would endanger his son in that way? Well, it looks like it's turning out to be much worse than that. It looks as if this bozo was missing the red light on the camera and desperately went about a way to get himself back on the front pages again.

The big proof of my initial suspicion seems to be that not only was this guy pitching "reality show" ideas to networks, had already appeared on one and sought glory for chasing dangerous storm systems, ("IS CAMERA ONE IN FOCUS, HONEY?!"), but while he was doing the moronning show circuit he kept talking while his son was puking into a stagehand's lunch container.

Now THAT'S a father!

And the larimer county sheriff's office saying that no charges would be pressed, only to say that upon further investigation charges WOULD be pressed? Well, it's my theory that they're simply too close to boulder county and have picked up too many of their bad habits...

No joking now. I mean this with ever fiber of my being and I'm putting one thousand dollars of my own money on the line here. Seriously; I'm offering one thousand dollars to ANYone who can answer the following question within the boundaries of solid logic. And I don't care if you're an honest believer or if you're simply playing devil's advocate in order to secure the cash. Answer me this in a way that actually makes sense and I'll write the check:

If "potential" is enough to win a nobel peace prize, why isn't "potential" enough to protect a life still in the womb?

Send your answers via the usual channels to the left.

Although most of these were before my time in "first run," I'm certainly familiar with the references. So it is in that spirit I present to you, (via bits & pieces)... UPDATED SONGS FROM THE 60's(ish)!

Bobby Darin — Splish, Splash, I Was Havin’ A Flash

Herman’s Hermits — Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got A Lovely Walker

Ringo Starr — I Get By With A Little Help From Depends

The Bee Gees — How Can You Mend A Broken Hip?

Roberta Flack — The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face

Johnny Nash — I Can’t See Clearly Now.

Paul Simon — Fifty Ways To Lose Your Liver

The Commodores — Once, Twice, Three Times To The Bathroom

Procol Harem — A Whiter Shade Of Hair

Leo Sayer —Y ou Make Me Feel Like Napping

The Temptations — Papa’s Got A Kidney Stone

Abba — Denture Queen

Tony Orlando — Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall

Helen Reddy — I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore

Leslie Gore — It’s My Procedure, And I’ll Cry If I Want To

Willie Nelson — On the Commode Again

Like I said, a little before my time but I'm sure I'll see a list like this for my generation in 5 years or so...

Just when I ponder the question of what has happened to my country, news comes along that makes said question that much... sharper.

The commissioner of the NFL - having solved all the league's problems with batterers, steroid use, dog fighting, serial parenting, temper tantrums, drug abuse and wide receivers shooting themselves in the leg has come out in order to make a strong stance against that most dangerous off all threats to the entertainment industry that is professional football: a team being owned by a Conservative.

Oh I know - and not a moment too soon, right? I mean, if you give a Conservative money he's likely to invest it in things like stocks and bonds which help to employ people. If you give a Conservative a whole LOT of money, he's likely to invest in things like professional sports teams - which provide jobs for thousands upon thousands of people and untold millions in tax revenue and charity giving. So you can see why such a thing would have to be stopped dead in its tracks, right?

...

The thing is, if the league or even a single one of the talking heads morons on TV had even a single shred of proof of some sort of misdeed on Limbaugh's part I might be open to an argument on their part. They don't. Even when the commissioner opened his yap to condemn the very thought, all he could cite was some sort of unspecific "comments" he didn't quote but was happy to attribute to Rush. But in today's media world it's not the facts of the attack that count; it's WHOM you are attacking that matters.

The proof is that goodell and his willing lackeys in the LSM, (have you noticed that this is THE. ONLY. time the feministas on the networks have ever mentioned professional football without a sneer on their already ugly faces?), either can't quote Limbaugh or they're busy making stuff up. I actually heard some news-bimbette claim that Rush said MLK's assassin, "should receive the Medal of Honor," and that, "we miss you, James Earl." I call shenanigans and sincerely hope Limbaugh sues cnn back to the stone age over that one.

Look - unlike the brainless left I recognize the difference between free speech and paid speech and censorship. Let's start with the last one; censorship is when the gubermint steps in and either tells citizens what they can say, print or create or actively stops production/distribution of something the gubermint finds unacceptable. For the left, if someone wants to cover a picture of the Virgin Mary with elephant dung but cannot get a gubermint grant, (presumably for a bucket and a bus pass to the zoo), well they consider that censorship. It isn't.

As for free speech, we all have that right and I'm exercising it right now. It's FUN! I can say what I want about what I want and usually do. FREE speech. Now, should I say something while pretending to represent the company for which I work, that could be serious trouble. Likewise, if I mouth off about my boss, the company, working conditions - whatever - and my boss sees it, well, that could be trouble too. I don't think saying, "I'm really busy" is a violation of this standard because that's what they're paying me for, right? Which is exactly the point; that is, in a very real sense, paid speech and I'm completely liable for anything I say that would fall into that category.

So am I arguing that Rush has a RIGHT to own a professional football team? Absolutely not. It's their club and their rules and Rush knows he's a lightning rod in the field of public discourse. So fine - either the team finds another buyer or they go under. That's business. And it's not my beef here.

What I can't stand is the obvious double-stand at play. The league will not allow one side of the political spectrum to BUY interest in ONE of its teams, but will broadcast ALL the league's teams once a week with a pre-game, post-game and half-time featuring one of the most virulent, un-thinking, knee-jerk lefties that ever hosted a show watched by 2 dozen people.

Oh well. At least they're finally being open and honest about it. It's KOA for me from now on...

So Saturday finally rolls around and it starts out pretty much like any other Saturday we've experienced lately: I get to sleep in a little as the monsters enjoy a breakfast bar or dry cereal or something that Mommy has left out for them the night before. I then get up and fix 'brunch' - in this case French Toast with jam and cream cheese. MLD has 2 1/3 pieces, D-Man 1 1/3 and Bink 1 1/3 with syrup instead of the jam mixture. Can't win 'em all, I suppose.

Since it's Bink's turn to go With Mommy to her Mom's I plan on taking the older two to Sam's, the grocery store and Wally world. Slight problem: they're expected at MY Mom's earlier than will reasonably work. So instead of two I take all three to Sam's - which is already half-way to my Mom's - and plan on dropping them off and finishing my errands by myself.

That'll work, too.

We get to Sam's only to learn that their computers and half the store's lights are - to use the technical term - "out." We wandered around in the dull hope that things would spring back to life any minute now and I could retrieve the items we came for. With no sign of that happening and the added insult that the lack of electricity meant no heated samples, I decided to leave.

Dropped the kids off and headed out as free as a Father could be for the next 24 hours or so. But not as free as a husband could be, since The Wif would be home in a couple of hours. Eh -- could be worse, right? Especially since she arrived home to announce that she was hungry for pizza. "You're singing in MY key, baby!"

It was a cold night so I tipped almost 25% and then the guy commented on the large inflatable Halloween decoration on the roof of our garage. His review was positive, but I'd LOVE to hear what the neighbors say about it behind closed doors...

Then, on Sunday we got up in our own sweet time, enjoyed a boring breakfast and The Wif decided that she needed to go buy the dresser that matches The Knuckleheads' bunk beds. As their showroom was just up the street we headed there at about noon-thirty. When we went to pay for the danged thing, the clerk couldn't get to the "right screen" on the computer. We had to walk all the way across the store where she was able to input the order but couldn't get the computer to accept my debit card, (I just LOVE the look on their faces when I say "no," after they ask if I have another card! Priceless!).

So we go downstairs as I start to worry if maybe computer problems are following me around and wonder what it bodes for my first day back on the clock - today. After much fidgeting and another "no" from me, the card is finally accepted, ("Wha - my money's no good here?"), and we're on our way... back upstairs. Yes, upstairs. The Wif wants to check out mattresses. I immediately learn that a new King Size mattress costs anywhere from $580 to $2,600 and that's just the ones AFW carries! I'm sure that a Dux or a Sleep Number would cost more than a used Honda.

I finally convince her to get moving so we can pickup the dresser and get home before my folks bring the kids back. We go to the madhouse they call a "warehouse" and are awed by the creative driving on display there. Still, we manage to grab the dresser, get home, put it in place, move the old dresser downstairs and transfer the clothes before the children are delivered. I also found time to make 2 batches of sugar cookie dough, 2 batches of Halloween-themed M&M's cookie dough and 4 batches of sugar-free peanut butter cookie dough. Not too bad for a day's work, if I do say so myself.

Then came the holiday; Monday - Columbus Day. I have it off but MLD does not. That means that Mommy got up early to deposit her at school then came home and crawled back in bed with me. (Am I complaining?) After a brief respite I got up and prepared toaster strudel with a yogurt chaser for The Knuckleheads, then we went to work...

We went out and shoveled all the ice from the deck off of the deck. Some went onto what's left of the grass, some went into the pumpkin patch, some went around the blue potato bush and some was set aside, "for the bees." For reasons I cannot explain, Bink insisted that ice chunks be piled at one corner of the deck "for the bees." I'm not sure if it was to kill them or if they were having an open bar party last night and needed the ice for their mixed drinks. The world will never know.

After that we went to the front yard and I started digging up an area between two of our rosebushes so The Wif could plant her spring/summer bulbs. Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of pure, solid clay was moved to the back yard to build up the area that will support my future garden. 2 feet-plus long, about 18 inches wide and at least a foot deep later I learn that all her bulbs only have to be planted at a depth of 6 inches. Pretty much a metaphor for my life: I do nothing and work piles up. I get to work and I immediately overdo it. Gas or brakes -- that's me.

I think it'll work out OK and to prove it I dug the other two holes to similar specs, (the last hole is never as deep as the first, is it?), then filled the holes with a layer of clay buster, then cow & compost, then more clay buster, then outdoor planting soil. At this point The Wif came out to demonstrate her bulb planting expertise via a technique best described as, "throwing them in the hole." Struck dumb by the demonstration I gestured that she should fill the hole with the rest of the planting soil. And then we ran out of planting soil.

After lunch we gathered up The Knuckleheads and went to the nearest garden center. I purchased 2 more bags of clay buster, another bag of cow & compost and 3 bags of planting soil. The boys then went to take a nap and I filled the now planted holes with the remaining soil. And then we ran out of planting soil.

No matter, as it was time to pick up MLD from school. I gathered her then went back and got 3 more bags of soil and 2 bags of winterizer. Once home she had to start her homework so I finished filling in the dog-grave-looking holes. Took all 3 bags and we'll still need more. Next spring I'm sure to over-estimate how much we'll need and I'll end up with an extra dozen bags of expensive dirt drying out in the shed. 'Tis the way of life.

By this time the boys were up so I started on the one remaing job; seeding the back yard. 3 bags of fall seed, the remnants of seed collected from my Father-In-Law's garage and whatever was left of what I'd bought last spring. My hopper runneth over. Even better, I got the yard seeded and only had to run over D-Man once and hit Bink in the head with the spreader's handle. That'll learn 'em.

Let me ask this one, very simple, question: what's the problem with profit these days? Why is it so EEEEVVVVIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLL that a company should make a profit? Isn't that what they're expected to do? Otherwise, how could they stay in business to produce the goods that people obviously want and/or need? Take the oil companies for example; they're making money and lots of it. I say, GREAT! and so should you if you have a car that runs on even the smallest amount of gasoline, rely on gas-powered turbines for electricity or consume any number of products that are produced with the help of gasoline.

For that matter, let's look at the other "big villain" the left loses their minds over; pharmaceutical companies. Now I don't know about you, but my parents, my wife's parents, close friends, other family members and I rely on life-saving drugs. Medications that treat any number of problems and make life easier, better and longer. So what would happen if gubermint decided to issue a punitive tax on these companies? Do you think prices to the consumer would drop? NO! Taxes are not paid by companies, they're only collected by companies and are a cost of doing business. Just like the utilities, the furniture, the transportation expenses, employee overhead, research et. al. ALL get passed onto the consumer in order to keep the company in business.

Do I want the makers of Lisinopril to stay in business, keep producing the drug and continue to research new and better alternatives? You bet I do. And for that to happen they need to operate at a profit. More profit to them.

It's the same with personal finance. Now, since lefties give virtually nothing to charity as a group this doesn't apply to most of them, but where does charitable giving come from? From individual/family profit. You pay your bills and from what's left, (profit), you are able to give to charity. We give regularly to our church, donate monthly to World Vision, give to causes that support our military fighting forces, help friends in dire need and donate to other causes I see fit along the way. The simple truth of the matter is that we could never, ever do any of that if we didn't operate our home at a profit.

It's a simple but true example that most everyone should be able to understand at a personal level. But it applies to business as well. Hopefully that makes sense.

...and so, in conclusion, I'd like to thank all of you who recognized my true potential towards perhaps working for world peace sometime in the future HUH?!? Oh, excuse me. I was just reviewing my acceptance speech for next year's nobel peace prize. I mean, so far 3 Americans have "won" the "award" with the sole criterion of, "NOT being George W. Bush" in recent history. Hey! Guess what?!? I meet that criterion! I've got to win the 1.4 mil sooner or later, right?

As for that cheesy, worthless medal I'll either melt it down for bullets, use it as a coaster or sell it on ebay. Of course, after a few years all of America will have one so there probably won't be much of a market for it...

What a joke. What an absolute joke. Alfred Nobel's will stipulates that the "final" prize shall be awarded to the person, "...who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity among nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses." Fraternity among nations? He's turned our friends into enemies and our enemies into giggling thugs instead of the more stern type. Reduction of standing armies? Not only is he increasing our military presence in Afghanistan, (Maybe -- what time is it now?), but his utter weakness on the international front has Russia re-arming, India and China growing their armies and Iran seeking nuclear weapons without the first hint of resistance from the greatest, most powerful nation on the planet. And peace congresses? My only guess is that they're counting that "beer summit" between the out-of-control racist and the cop doing his job...

Oh, I've heard you obamaNaughts out there: They're taking Him at His word! They're recognizing His potential! Sure. Now all you have to do is tell me where "potential" is listed in the nobel committee's mission. But OK. If that's how you want to play it, I can do that too:

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the academy for this oscar recognizing my POTENTIAL of writing a great screenplay.

My son, D-Man, would like to thank the committee for awarding him the Heisman Trophy based on his POTENTIAL to earn it someday. He believes that when he starts Kindergarten next Fall it will really kick-start his football career and is grateful that has been recognized by others.

The Binkster would also like to take this opportunity to thank the Assembly of Arts and Sciences for their award in light of his POTENTIAL to solve Uniform String Theory as well as perfect cold fusion. At the moment he credits cold water and Purell for the early stages of his research.

Not to be left out, MLD would like to express her deepest, most sincere thanks to the Pillsbury company for naming her the POTENTIAL winner of the 2020 Bake-Off. She also extends gratitude to her Mother for letting her help out in the kitchen and to her Father for teaching her how to clean up when she's done baking.

How about you guys? Any awards you'd like to claim based on the POTENTIAL that some day you might actually DO something to earn them? Knock yourselves out.

The bathroom in our master bedroom has a nice, long counter and two sinks. It also has two large mirrors - one for each half of the counter with about a 3 inch gap between them. I mention this because mirrors suddenly became very important tonight...

MLD - the one who at bedtime has more stalls than Yankee Stadium bathrooms - appeared in our doorway about 20 minutes after we tucked her in. Since she's on the other side of the door from me and tends to mumble anyway I can't make out a single thing she's saying. Suddenly, The Wif says, "oh - that is the oldest thing out there!" Naturally I'm guessing that MLD has crafted some sort of nighttime dodge designed to buy her an extra 20 minutes. The Wif then says, "tell Daddy."

Being female she's naturally unable to get right to the point and starts off with, "today, at big school we were in so-and-so's class doing thus-n-such and we had to use orange colored pencils and I wasn't at my desk because we were in the other classroom and we were supposed to be making dream books and the skies were slightly overcast with the relative humidity at 60% with decreasing barometric pressure..."

You get the idea.

FINALLY I learn that she's all shook up because her classmate and neighbor told her that he put "Bloody Mary" in his dream book - and then told her all about how he conjured up Bloody Mary the other night. Together we tried logic: If Bloody Mary was such an evil, violent thing and someone to be feared at all costs, how did the neighbor boy survive her? We tried history: Puh-Leeze. Bloody Mary has been around since I was your age -- probably since GRANDMA was your age! No sale.

So, struck by inspiration I called her into the bathroom, showed her that we had two mirrors and stood in the middle of them. Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary and Bloody Mary later we were both still standing. So I told her, well, we have two mirrors so I'd better do it again. And I did. So far, no murderous mirror-sourced psychopath has emerged from the bathroom, (although there is a litter box in there so it sometimes smells like it).

I sent her back to bed and she was still upset. I'd DISPROVED the stupid thing already! What more did she want? I pointed out that she had a far more immediate danger - Killah was about to enter her room and set in for the night. I told her to go back to bed and then inspiration struck! I told MLD to tell the boy that I said Bloody Mary 10 times into our mirrors and when she appeared -- I gave her HIS address. And he should be careful around mirrors for the next week or so.

As I tweeted, it's good to be the Daddy.

As promised, here are the videos from the boys' second karate class. They're posted on LiveLeak.com so you may or may not be able to see them from an office connection. Enjoy!

OK -- so that last one isn't karate per se, but it's certainly worth seeing.

Two aliens landed their ship on a golf course and watched a young man golfing. First he hit it into the high grass, mumbling and cursing he retrieved his ball. Then he hit it into the sand bunker shouting curse words he retrieved the ball. Next he hit a perfect hole in one, then the first alien said to the second, "Uh-oh cover your ears he's going to be really mad now"!

Q: What is an astronomer?
A: A night watchman with a college education.

President Bush was awakened one night by an urgent call from the Pentagon. "Mr. President," said the four-star general, barely able to contain himself, "there's good news & bad news."
"Oh, no," muttered the President, "Well, let me have the bad news first."
"The bad news, sir, is that we've been invaded by creatures from another planet." "Gosh, and the good news?"
"The good news, sir, is that they eat reporters and pee oil."

Ahhh... would that it were so.

Well here I am, letting the last chance I'll allow myself to rant on something this week just pass me by. Well not completely; I suppose that all of you out there either heard about or saw the pictures of White House staffers passing out white lab coats to that fiasco of a "doctor's summit" on the White House lawn (I just typed 'White Hose' and I think that fits better) last weekend. No? You knew nothing about it? Well of course you didn't because the LSM that so many people still waste their time with won't EVER report on anything that might reflect poorly upon The Anointed One. Besides, we all know that docs go simply EVERYWHERE in their lab coats: the store, the movies, TV interviews, funerals, the beach...

And of course there's the further appeasement of our enemies at the cost of our friends by the little o's refusal to meet with the Dali Lama - because it might offend China. Just like how he abandoned Poland so as not to tick off putin. Just like how he neglected the uprisings in Iran after the bogus elections, so as not to get under the skin of the mullahs. Just like how he wanted Honduras to ignore their own constitution in order to put a would-be dictator back in power. I guess he wants to keep these thugs close so he can pick up some tips.

This guy never saw a freedom he didn't want to suppress. Oh - except for abortion up to and including the 12th trimester...

Tonight at dinner, Mommy was engaging the children in her usual chatter, "what did you do today," "who did you play with," when she asked D-Man, "What did your teacher talk about today?" AND WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT he said, "I have no clue." I swear, that kid is Spicolli without the drugs. He doesn't need them.

Also this evening I finally did the long-requested review of MLD's guest list for her upcoming birthday party. She started the list with Trevor B and Andrew. I was patient enough to let her read through the rest of the list before I "suggested" the revision. I told MLD that I thought she was far too young to have boys at her birthday party and that she could invite up to 5 girls from her class. She agreed and crossed the boys off her list.

Later I asked The Wif if I handled it properly. She looked at me with a bit of a gleam and said, "it was much easier than I thought it would be." While grateful for whatever degree of admiration I had earned, it seemed a bit silly. We ARE the parents after all and if my little girl should want to draw a line in the sand about inviting those boys we have a simple solution: no party at all. Problem solved!

Now, flame me if you must...

Sorry, but the well is dry tonight. In fact, I'm still on the clock. Well, not ON the clock because technically I'm volunteering my time (9:30 on Tuesday night) in order to get this stuff done without having to hassle the users. Although nothing seems to make them want to return the favor, so I really am insane!

The good news is that all the new servers are up and running, all the tape libraries are up and 95% of them are functioning just as they should and 3/5ths of my sites have been migrated to the new boxes - allowing me to shutdown the old servers as soon as I have a few good backups behind me. Of course this means two more late night volunteer sessions but then that part will be done. And I will be a happy man until the next project comes my way.

So nothing tonight. Well, alright; The Knuckleheads had their second karate class on Monday night and I was the obnoxious Father - moving this way and that in order to take movies of the little guys kicking invisible tigers, stomping on imaginary snakes and running from the imaginary lion. Priceless stuff. In fact, I'm going to take some of the best footage and upload it to YouTube for general consumption. Once that's done I'll embed it here, too, but it will do little good for most of you since YouTube is blocked in most corporate environments. Trust me: it's worth checking out on your own dime.

What I found most interesting about the class is that D-Man was obviously the most athletically gifted on the floor. Faster than the kid who was clearly at least a year older than him and at least as capable as the students who had already taken a class, (they had stripes on their belts). This jock stuff just comes naturally to him. I hope he doesn't squander that gift.

Bink held his own but being a full year younger than his brother, almost a head shorter and given his curvy legs he has to work harder at it. There's also a cognitive side of this because he can't always process the instructions -- but I'm not being critical, I'm merely recognizing the fact that he's only 3 years old. And for 3, he's doing great.

He'll always have to work more at sports than his brother does if only because he's a year behind. Then again, certain things like trap shooting, target shooting, golf et al he may be better at because he seems to have a natural gift for the physics of moving objects. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Of course, that's the most fun part of it all...

The whole david letterman affair, (literally), has got to be good news for at least one person; al franken. I mean, should franken ever get divorced he can rest assured that there are still some women out there who will have sex with an ugly, unfunny liberal of bad temperament.

Who wants to bet that in the very slim chance you do hear about this story the empty heads in the LSM won't be bogged down by having to identify his party affiliation? It would be one thing if they did it all for everyone, one way or the other: mention everyone's party or mention nobody's. But that's just not how they go about their business. Foley? REPUBLICAN! Sanford? REPUBLICAN! Jefferson? WHO?

For once, I was happy to see farve (if he's going to say it that way, I'm going to spell it that way) win. Normally I'm wishing a case of gout onto his big toe every time he plays - if only to shut up the idiots in the booth who insist that he walks on Gatorade - but it was rather fulfilling to see him silence all the cheeseheads who said, 'who wants him anyway? He's too old.'

I hate to brag on ourselves, but I really, honestly have to say that I'm pretty darn happy with how we've handled the gifts we've been given. The kids' college funds have returned just over 10% in less than 5 months and they all have their own saving accounts. Now, I have to admit to being tempted to put 1,000 dollars into each of their savings accounts, but then I stop and remind myself that these accounts exist in order to teach them how to save. In that light I'll be able to reign myself in. Maybe I'll just give them 500 each on their birthdays...

I'm back on the uber-serious low-carb routine again. It's just been too long that I've neglected my diet and past time that I started to pay attention to it again. Not that I've ballooned up - in fact I think I've lost weight - I just want to get down another size. It would be really cool to know that I went from a 40 inch waist at my peak down to a 34. I'm actually fairly close and I think a couple/few weeks without sugar will kick this into gear. Plus, I might then be able to keep up with MLD as she finally learns to ride without training wheels. We'll see.

And...... Here's hoping that box cutters and packaging tape can soon be imported into alabama. Haven't those poor people suffered enough?

BUT FIRST! Let me just say that as soon as I think I've seen it all and won't be surprised by anything, I'm a bit floored. Such was the case last Friday. I was completely ready on Thursday night to make the announcement that Chicago had won the Olympic games. It just seemed so obvious; the fix was in, right? Why else would the little o upend his entire schedule to fly over there, give some long-winded, (it's just a rumor that Churchill was talking about obama when he was quoted as saying, "he says nothing at great length"), pretentious, all-about-me speech unless he knew - KNEW - that Chicago would be awarded the games?

Well, to paraphrase a sports proverb, that's why they count the votes. And Chicago was ELIMINATED in the FIRST round of voting! How did that happen? After all, the little o gave a speech in which he used the words, "I" or "me" on average more than once per paragraph. michelle did the same thing with the same startling average of self-reverence, but then threw in the fact that she remembers sitting on her fathers' lap watching Carl Lewis run. *AHEM* She was 20 years old when Mr. Lewis first appeared in the Olympics. Her poor father...

Is it possible - just possible - that this could be a wake up call? Might it be that this President could learn that reading a speech all about himself from a teleprompter ISN'T the best way to approach international relations? For the record, I think it is possible he could learn that. I just don't think he's able to do otherwise.

Friday. My regularly scheduled day off and did I ever earn it. Too much to be done and not enough hands, so I've been working late into the evening and on weekends - volunteering my time just to see that things get finished. Not so this weekend...

The Wif got up to take MLD to school and The Knuckleheads were already up when they left. So she got home and started wrangling, leaving me to sleep in, (a very, VERY rare event these days). I awoke just before 9, listened to some radio, checked email, showered, dressed and generally messed around. Got downstairs just before 10. The Wif asked about me getting my allergy shots and I said no later than 11:30.

She bolted upstairs and we were on our way before 11. I got stuck, waited most of the 20 minutes protocol calls for and then we went to her new office. It's on the Fed Center so I had to show my license and sign in. Quick tour of her office and then off to the credit union branch across the street - we were going to open savings accounts for each of the kids. She suggested I open the accounts and she'd take The Knuckleheads to get something to eat because they were fading fast. Great idea, except she's primary on the account. I said I'd take the boys, but she doesn't know the kids' SSNs. Rock and a hard place.

I wrote down the numbers for her and the boys got pizza, cashews and a strawberry-banana slushee. Once finished, we went back to the bank where I had to sign paperwork, answer some questions and leave a fingerprint on each application. Transfer money from our account to each of theirs and they're good to go! Off to Sam's to pick up some stuff before we have to pick up MLD from school.

We weren't at Sam's 10 minutes before The Wif's phone rang: we left our licenses at the bank and they were to close in less than an hour. Right. So, pay for the few meager things we had gathered and back to the gate we went through. "I was just here at noon but I don't have my license because I didn't get it back from the bank. If you check the log, you'll see that I'm listed there." "Do you have your license?"

So I try to explain to Columbo what was going on. He seems generally agreeable but says he's going to hold The Wif's Federal ID until we return and show him our licenses. OK. We head to the credit union only to realize that neither one of us has ID to get past the guard in the building! The Wif calls the young lady who setup the accounts, explains the situation and asks if she could bring the licenses to the front desk. Nothing doing; she can't leave the bank.

And people wonder why there's resistance to gubermint-run health care?

Saturday was interesting as well. The Wif got up early to attend a Church function, left two Pop-Tarts out for The Knuckleheads and headed out. I got to sleep a little bit but then had to get up and going in order to pick up MLD from her sleepover, (all went well). After a breakfast skirmish with Bink we headed out. I reigned her in and the four of us went to Sam's, (yes, I am crazy). Wandering through the aisles looking for, a) samples and b) the stuff we weren't able to get Friday, one of the sample ladies said to me, "my - you've got all 3 with you today!" I guess maybe we're going there too often.

We left Sam's, went to the post office to drop off a Netflix, went to the urgent care office to pay my bill, visited Home Depot in order to secure a new Halloween-themed rooftop inflatable - they had none - and then to Ace Hardware where we actually found one: a crouching black cat who moves his head back and forth from time to time. Then - finally - home.

The Wif had just arrived as well so we fastened together a quick, "snacky lunch" and she took D-Man to her mom's. A full day already, no?

No. The three of us headed into the back yard where actual work was to take place. I dug a 2X2 hole for a blue potato bush which was slowly dying in it's container on the deck. As I was digging, I had the kids fill the wheelbarrow with rocks from a section of the back yard where previous owners grew mushrooms. Between emptying the wheelbarrow I was able to fill the hole with peat, plant the bush and fill in with peat and outdoor planting soil. I turned on the water and then turned my attention to the rocks.

We eventually emptied a 4X3 section and I raked and shoveled the mushroom soil into that area. I then added the remaining peat and the contents of a small compost bucket I'd been using for several months. We were on our way.

We then had the Great Corn Harvest and gathered as many near-dead ears as could be found. MLD collected them on the patio table. I then grabbed my shears and cut the corn stalks down and the kids carried them to the emerging compost pile. This cleared things considerably. I then took down the pea support - now covered with weeds - and rolled it up for the trash. Then I attacked the remaining weeds and there were plenty of them. We're down to just the pumpkins now and those won't be around too much longer.

After that it was EVERYONE UP ON THE ROOF! and we installed the new cat. The kids sat on the roof's crest and I screwed the thing in. While we were up there MLD's classmate from across the street, (oh joy), saw her up there and said hi. She said hi, although far less enthusiastically. He then asked, "how did you get on the roof?" MLD responded with, "we climbed a ladder," but she left off, 'you brainless dolt' which she clearly felt based on how she said what she said.

After all that it was dinner time but don't ask me what we had; I can't remember...

Sunday I watched football and baked. After all, Octember is pre-season for Christmas Goodies and I wanted to make sure I still remembered what I was doing. I made ginger snaps, peanut clusters and tried a new fudge recipe. All turned out better than I expected and The Wif and I are each taking a plate full into the office.

If you can find us, you can help yourself...

obama's health care plan explained...

The phone rings and the lady of the house answers.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Sanders, please."

"Speaking..."

"Mrs. Sanders, this is Dr. Jones at St. Agnes Laboratory. When your husband's doctor sent his biopsy to the lab last week, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well. We are now uncertain which one belongs to your husband. Frankly, either way the results are not too good."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Sanders asks nervously.

"Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for HIV. We can't tell which is which."

"That's dreadful! Can you do the test again?" questioned Mrs. Sanders.

"Normally we can, but the new health care system will only pay for these expensive tests just one time."

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?"

"The folks at obama health care recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him."

Gleefully stolen and Hat Tip to Code Monkey

As you can see to the left, I tweeted about the fire. And the winds - the very, very high winds. Now, I grew up sorta in this area so I know for a fact that we're in the wind/hail corridor and they really haven't let us down in our expectations. But tonight's ridiculous. Gusts that rattle the windows and whistle past any opening they can find. On the plus side, I suppose this is an opportunity to locate any leaks our home might have. On the other hand, I'm plenty tired and I hear my nice, cool sheets calling my name. BE RIGHT THERE!

Anyway, I'm certainly praying for the firefighters' safety tonight. Combine this wind with no rain in weeks and it's not something I'd want to go out and face. Thank God they're out there for us.

In a way, I almost dread fire more down here than I did up in the mountains and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just the proximity of the homes and knowing how hot these structures get once they're alight. Maybe it's just the fact that we have a real second story now. No idea. I'll just have to cope.

I did something tonight I said I'd never do: I volunteered 2 hours to work. I know, I'm completely insane but it did allow me to shutdown 2 servers with a 3rd to follow, (hopefully Thursday), so maybe it was worth it in some small sense. Of course, under the category of Trying To Please Everyone, I'm sure to get some extra teeth marks on my arse anyway. Ah, the joy of collecting a paycheck!

We're in a small mess right now - aside from all the larger ones, I mean. MLD has been invited to a slumber/birthday party. "Mixed Emotions" doesn't even come close. Mock if you will, but I have a pretty strong policy that our little girl can only spend unsupervised time with families we've met. Just last year at about this time we made ourselves available to the two families of the girls MLD invited to her sleepover and I thought that was a pretty good thing to do. I guess the fact that they both showed up means they liked the idea too.

But not so with this crew. In fact, MLD brought the invite home on Monday, RSVP's due Thursday and the party's Friday night. Kind of a whirlwind pace, eh?

The good news is that The Wif has met the mom a few times at day care. The bad news is, this necessitates "the talk." Bad news for mommy, that is; I'm not going within 100 miles of it, unless I have to...