Stunted Growth

I am f*ing tired of these guys

2010-05-05T20:55:00.005-05:00

With all this free time I've been catching up on my daytime TV. And my nighttime TV. And the other TV. I watch a lot of TV.

And being a total geek, I often find myself watching the History Channel or A&E or NatGeo or The History of A&E on NatGeo.

But here's the thing, cable television programming executives, I am f*ing tired of your stream of manly reality shows. I think you're familiar. You know, manly, middle-aged dudes who all wear matching plain T-shirts and try real hard to look like they don't work out and pretend like they're normal fucking dudes who know how to fix everything and plant everything and love to drive pickup trucks and get dirty.

Like this d-bag.

This, seriously, is a show about slicing shit in half. This d-bag is going to wear tight, plain T-shirts and slice shit in half. AND THAT IS A F*ING TV SHOW.

Listen, I'm not saying these people don't exist. I've seen lots of guys who fix shit and drive pickup trucks and get dirty. AND THEY LOOK NOTHING LIKE THESE MEN. They're rednecks, God love 'em. I should know, I'm related to a few. Nice guys. But they ain't pretty and they usually wear more Confederate flags.

AND THEY DON'T HAVE A GODDAMN TV SHOW.

Oh yeah, and enough of Dangerous Fishing and Real F*ing Loggers or whatever the hell that crap is. Wanna impress me? How about you fish for shark while log rolling down the freaking Colorado River? Dangerous Fishing. Give me a freaking break. It's FISHING. LOGGING? You are filming people KNOCKING OVER TREES. TREES DON'T EVEN FIGHT BACK YOU AHOLES.

So here's what I want in my reality TV shows - I want real American men. I want men who like to sit on the couch and watch football and sort of know how to fix shit but really don't want to so they pretend like they don't know and just hire Johnny Jerkoff from down the street to come fix it so they don't have to and besides I DVR'd The Mentalist.

I want whiny men who drive foreign sedans and think going to the gym is really hard and a pain in the ass and listen to talk radio or sing along with XFM's The 80s when they play The Bangles cause Suzanna Hoffs was hot in 1986.

I want guys who wear T-shirts with actual logos on them and don't have triceps and play Xbox until 2 a.m. cause they're very close to winning the Stanley Cup for the 9th straight season on NHL 'O9 and then they think getting up in the morning sucks and they almost never blow anything up or slice it in half or really give two shits about how a pneumatic drill f*ing works.

Jesus. Is that so hard?

Spring Break '10

2010-04-13T15:45:00.004-05:00

It's weird coming home when there's no reason to really come home. For some reason I felt like I was in a big hurry to rush back to Columbus, but now I'm here, unemployed and uh....I really wish I was still on vacation.

I left more than a week ago, heading to my Dad's house for Easter, then to DC for dinner with my cousin and her twin babies, then to Wilmington, N.C. to visit my friend Renee and wrapped up in Hilton Head with my friend Abby.

It was damn nice and my sincere, sincere thanks to all of the above for their outstanding hospitality and, in the case of Renee and Abby, the common courtesy to live in a beautiful place with amazing weather and owning a spare bed. (By the way that's the view of Abby's back porch in her new apartment in Hilton Head. There was alligators, birds and old people fishing. It was like freaking Animal Kingdom.)

My quickie version of road notes:
- Easter weekend a hungry, drunken man broke into my Dad's church in Steubenville at 4:30 a.m. (Dad gets the call.). He was finishing up his first tub of Cool Whip when the cops arrived. Now he goes to jail for a month. For Cool Whip.

- DC is cool but slightly nuts. Not as nuts as Steubenville though.

- People who have twins should be afforded every break in the world. Let them cut in front of you in line. Give them a tax break. Cause they could snap at any second.

- Hilton Head is full of people from Ohio while Wilmington is full of people from the rest of North Carolina. Renee lives in Wrightsville Beach, which is really outstanding although all the people are in such good physical condition it's slightly nauseating.

- First night in Hilton Head went to a lovely wine and tapas bar (yeah, I spend TONS of time at wine and tapas bars during the rest of my year.) Turns out it was owned by two people who I had covered in my days as sports editor in Marietta. Oddly small world.

- Good to meet some of the BFG people I had heard so much about for the past eight years. Strangely, I sometimes feel as if I've worked there. ha.

DaVinci and his legion of chunky monkeys

2010-03-24T00:19:00.007-05:00

I love news and science and news.
They are awesome.
Like today's news tidbit of the day: Painters are fat asses too.

Okay, okay, I'm paraphrasing.
For those too lazy to clicky clicky:

"Using a computer, they compared the size of the food to the size of the heads in 52 paintings of Jesus Christ and his disciples at their final meal before his death.

If art imitates life, we're in trouble, the researchers conclude. The size of the main dish grew 69 percent; the size of the plate, 66 percent, and the bread, 23 percent, between the years 1000 and 2000.

Supersizing is considered a modern phenomenon, but "what we see recently may be just a more noticeable part of a very long trend," said Brian Wansink, a food behavior scientist at Cornell University."

Sigh.
The conclusion, I guess, is that we're all pigs and have been for a long time. Especially painters.
Congrats, on that one Mr. Scientist. I'm sure your federal grant is well-earned. Tenure here you come!

Yes, some dude at Cornell University (Sweet 16 - Woohoo!) just spent a lot of time looking at the size of plates and food in paintings of The Last Supper. Like years.

Here are my conclusions:

A) I didn't know there was more than one version of The Last Supper. DaVinci did the first, right? Who the hell did the rest? Shouldn't we be more concerned with my lack of art education than the size of the plates and the food?

B) We have an unhealthy obsession with how obsessed we are with how fat we are.

C) "Food Behavior Scientist" is not a real thing.

D) Would a modern-day version of The Last Supper be painted at a Hometown Buffet?

I get it. We all get it. We eat more than we used to. Guess what? We're BIGGER people. (full disclosure, I'm a total fat ass and am not promoting my unhealthy lifestyle.) PHYSICALLY BIGGER. We SHOULD eat more than we used to. It's a far better alternative than not having enough food.

Take for example, the notorious Body Mass Index (BMI), a popular way to let people know just how fat they are. The BMI was developed in the 1830s. Have you seen pictures of people from the 1830s? They were SMALL, FREAKING EMACIATED people. They also didn't have the best hygiene. Should we give up showers and brushing our teeth?

Society has ADVANCED. This includes food production. Massive, massive amounts of food production. You know what bigger plates and bigger portions in these paintings point out? That we are far more ADVANCED - genetically, physically and societally - than our predecessors.

Yes, our ancestors would probably call us fatties. But they would do it out of JEALOUSY and then they would sit down and gorge themselves footlong turkey subs and Baked Lays Doritos on our massive plates. Ask those kids from Africa I see on TV at night if they think our plates are too big.

Fine, we're gluttonous pigs. No, it's not healthy. But there's worse things - like taking an art history class.

Unemployment, T-shirts, Unemployment T-shirts

2010-03-18T22:24:00.005-05:00

I have recently become very pro-socialized medicine.
This has, not coincidentally, coincided (I love it when things coincidentally coincide or vice versa) with my pending unemployment.
After three years at the cable company du jour, my position was eliminated. Corporate America gave me a kick in the ass.

That's fine. It was time to move on. I was getting far too comfortable with my surroundings anyhow. Just enough to begin resenting their societal golden handcuffs. Not that I didn't enjoy the handcuffs of decent pay and good benefits. It was a nice ride. But deep down I knew the other shoe would drop at some point. I wasn't fitting in particularly well.

Anywho, I've got a week left of employment before I begin to suck at the teat of the state. Hooray for The Great Depression!

So, I"ve been emailing resumes like a mildly insane person.

In the mean time, I've started actually acting on some of the crazier ideas I've had over the years.

The latest?
This:

http://skreened.com/booshiets

yes.
T-shirts.
For reals, yo.
So buy one. Or don't. I only need to sell about two million to never work again. That's my goal. I've sold five. (Thanks, Anna!)

And check back because we've got more designs coming. I promise you will chuckle mildly for seconds!

Oh, and I twitter now, too. Social media is apparently a big deal.

@pdshie

for insights on life, love and nah, not really. mostly BS.

How can I upsell your purchase of a 40 of Olde English, sir?

2010-02-01T23:07:00.007-05:00

Even though it's been almost 20 years since I donned the stained white shirt with the cow on it, any time I walk into a UDF (it's a convenience store in Ohio for you out-of-staters), my skin crawls.

Since the days of mowing lawns for little old ladies in Carrollton, I've held almost every demeaning, bottom rung of the ladder crap job you could hold. The summer after my freshman year in college I worked at the Ohio State University laundry. It was so hot that when the temperature outside went above 90 degrees, bosses were required by law to give us a 10 minute break each hour. This job also included a weekly stint sorting used hospital (and I mean used) hospital sheets. Nothing like wearing yellow rubber glove in 100 degree heat and handling bags marked "TOXIC." Well worth my $5.15 an hour.

But none of these jobs were as amusing or horrifying as my stint working third shift at a UDF on the corner of Indianola and Hudson for three months in the summer of 1992. To start, I was in desperate need of cash since a job I had lined up for the summer fell through. UDF was hiring. UDF is always hiring. There's a reason for this.

There was training, of course. You were sent to an office park and were taught how to make a milkshake (look ma, no milk!) and how to add and subtract and how to put the money in the safe. That lasted something like six hours before I was dispatched to be UDFer.

In 1992 the corner of Indianola and Hudson was kind of the hub of what the city police described as 'oh christ.' It wasn't that the people were all in gangs or anything, it's just that you never know who was walking through that door. between midnight and 6 a.m.

My coworkers on the night shift were usually of no help. UDF always tried to have three people on at night although it was never clear why. I always assumed some corporate attorney somewhere had calculated the odds on a armed robber gunning down three people was much worse than just two. The third, still living employee would be able to hoard the ice cream and lock themselves in the cooler.

There was Abe, who was a nice enough guy - mostly cause he smoked weed in the cooler while he stocked milk. Abe really didn't care what was going on. Just don't make him interact with customers. Their lizard tongues and hooves would freak him out at about 4 a.m.

Crew member No. 2 was named Kim or Lynn or something mono-syllabic like that. She was a bit moody and couldn't work on weekends because of her other job as a stripper. Not to be shallow, but she might have been the world's first stripper to get tips for her personality. Kim was not attractive and her body was bizarrely disproportionate in various ways, but she apparently had an uncanny ability to apply glitter and dance sluttily to Motley Crue songs. Hey, we've all got a gift.

Kim's biggest problem with the rather large man who identified himself as her boyfriend. It was unclear whether she agreed with this assessment as she spent most of her time cursing at him. He would come into the store at about 3 a.m. after getting ripped with his buddies, sit at one of the tables in our quaint ice cream section and become outraged every time Kim "flirted' with one of the customers. (In this case, flirting would be defined by doing such things as giving them change or making them an ice cream cone.) Eventually, at about 4 a.m. he would drive off in a drunken rage to continue drinking with his friends and repeatedly call the store to talk to "fucking Kim." Oddly, Kim told me he would come to the strip club and not be jealous at all because "that's work."

Rounding out the crew during the nights Kim was too busy rubbing up against strange men, was Wendy. Wendy was a big woman. She went about 6 foot, 300+ and did not have a driver's license. She would walk from her house five miles away. This required to leave THREE HOURS before her shift began. Wendy did not move quickly.

Did I mention she was legally blind? She had glass that appeared to be carved from her basement windows on her face. One of our duties, that occurred quite frequently, was to let people pump gas. People would take the gas pump off the hook which made a little machine inside start beeping. I recall once being in the back and hearing the beeping going off repeatedly. I walked to the front:
"Wendy, why does that keep beeping?"
"I don't know. I think it's broken."
"Well, did you push the button so that guy can get his gas?"
"What guy?"
"The guy at the pump."
"What guy at the pump?"
"The guy at the pump right there?"
Peers out the window, squints. "There's a guy there?"
"Yes, there's a guy. WITH A CAR, WENDY. DO YOU NOT SEE A CAR?"
Squints.
"Oh yeah, I guess so."
"Wendy, why don't you got stock the milk?"

Amazingly, we never got robbed. Well, not really robbed. We got shoplifted a lot. And we got lots of people who filled up with gas then took off. Once saw a guy get his ass beat in the parking lot.

I think my favorites were the four or five people would come in at 4:55 a.m. and stand in line by the beer coolers and wait for me to unlock them at 5 a.m. Most of them were driving to work.

Advertising

2010-02-01T22:56:00.002-05:00

Nothing makes me want to eat gyros more than a poster of this lovely young woman, who is obviously from the MarilynMonropulous section of Greece.

Forever In Contract

2010-01-13T21:20:00.007-05:00

The potential future homestead. Hey, you wouldn't look good if you were left alone for two years either.

Better days, back in '07:

For those who don't know, and at this point I have no idea who that may or may not be: I'm buying a house.
Maybe.
Probably.
Or at least trying. (and if blogging about it doesn't jinx this whole deal, I don't know what will.)

For those of you who have lived the past few years as adults, this probably doesn't seem like a big deal. People buy and sell houses every day, or so I hear. For me, this is a stunning leap into adulthood and (gasp!) permanence. Buying a house means my dreams of moving to a cabin in Montana and mailing pipe bombs all day will have to wait until retirement. It means I'm staying in Columbus, at least for the forseeable future.

People ask me where the house is and I respond "Westgate." They then stare at me. I then say "It's in Hilltop." Their faces cringe. "Hilltop? THE Hilltop?" I can't blame them. I've made the same face.

It seems my biggest decision upon moving into Hilltop will be whether to be a Blood or a Crip. I'm still not sure which I'll choose, but it's probably a good thing I traded in my red VW a couple months ago. It seems ever since I made the offer the local news has led every broadcast with the statement "Another shooting in Hilltop..."

EMERGENCY UPDATE: CASINO, BITCHES...

Thanks to the imaginary outrage drummed up by the Dispatch and a fabricated controversy encouraged by the city, Penn National Gaming has decided to build its constitutionally-mandated casino about a mile from the house I am attempting to buy. (Of course depending on the rest of Ohio going along with this mess during a May statewide referendum. And I think it's great that Jerry Jackoff in Meigs County gets a voice in where Columbus puts its sin parlor.)

But returning to the point - that's right, suckers! CASINO. ONE MILE FROM MY FRONT DOOR. Have you ever wanted to spend hours on end next to elderly ladies who can simultaneously suck an oxygen mask and a Basic Light while repeatedly pushing buttons that flash and make lots of noise? I will have that option EVERY NIGHT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. Jealous? Oh, I know it.

But more importantly, an enormous casino, sports bar, hotel, monkey racing track, $4.95 surf and turf buffet can only do wonders for my new home neighborhood - the West Side. And one new addition - a 24-hour liquor license. Sweet. Can't wait to try and get out of that parking lot alive at 4 a.m.

Sure, other neighborhoods were worried about "hookers" and "crack" and "gambling addiction."
Well shit, brother, we already got that! Now it's just endorsed by the state of Ohio.

Top 5 Casino names:
1. "Hollywood on the Hilltop"
2. "Wolfe's Folly"
3. "Jim Treseel Hard Rock Cafe"
4. "Westland Mall Memorial Casino and Blackjack Parlor"
5. "The Golden Cougar"

BACK TO YOUR PREVIOUSLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

So, about the house. It was a foreclosure so I'm thriftily and cold-heartedly taking advantage of someone else's problems. Hooray for me and the shitty economy. Oh, and the government's giving me a bunch of money. Like a million dollars or something.

But there are issues with purchasing a foreclosed house:
A) It's been empty for two years so everything leaks, is broken and has mold on it. But those are things I can probably fix or hire someone else to fix while I go play blackjack.
B) The deed isn't recorded. This is a slightly bigger problem as I can't move in until somebody in the sheriff's office records the deed. Unfortunately, since the economy tanked and every other house in the world went into foreclosure, that leaves a big stack of deeds at the sheriff's office. So, the closing date is set for Feb., but it's more likely I won't be able to move in until March. That feels just north of forever at this point.

Regardless - home ownership here I come!

Probably.

Hooray for Holidays

2010-01-04T23:07:00.003-05:00

I've spent the past couple weeks in a mostly prone position, keeping my couch nailed to the floor and watching football.

Bowl games, mostly. And of the bowl games, about 148% of these games are on ESPN. This means I get a truckload of the same commercials. Again and again and again. Here's what I've learned:

1) While I currently urinate properly, I will probably need FloMax sometime soon. I'm not sure what it does or what it's for, I just know that going to the bathroom frequently will cause me to miss key moments in the sporting event I am attending or the sport I am playing or a key scene at a movie/play/dramatic reading. Basically, get FloMax or spend the rest of your natural born life at a urinal while something really cool is happening.

2) Urine issues are not the only thing wrong with my junk. I need Cialis so I can sit in a bathub next to my wife. Why do we have matching bathtubs again? I usually shower. Can she be in the bathtub and I'll take a shower? Guess not. Okay, bath tub. Got it.

3) Dear Taco Bell: Your latest commercial which promotes man asking if the 89-cent deal he got the day before "Is that still cool?" is clever except for a couple faux pas (s? How do you pluralize faux pas?):

- I realize hired actresses play the young lasses working in the Taco Bell, BUT no Taco Bell employee has ever looked like these two - all freshly scrubbed and smiles lacquered in teeth whitener. Have you ever seen your employees? They have acne. Lots of it. Even if they're adults. And those are the good ones. Most of them have some kind of open sore dripping into the salsa.

- Did you notice how CLEAN their uniforms were? Have you ever SEEN the uniforms your employees wear? These are the dirtiest, nastiest, smelliest damn things anyone has ever put on. They're encrusted with cheese remnants, rotting sour cream and what I hope and pray is not blood and or mucus. I think half of them wash these things in the refried beans.

- These young ladies are extraordinarily peppy considering they work at Taco Bell. Have you ever met your employees? Half the time they hand me my change with one hand and slice themselves with razor blades with the other. Nobody is happy to work at Taco Bell. At best, they don't shoot you or hock into your refried beans.

D) Verizon and AT&T can suck it. I don't give a crap about your 3G coverage. And Luke Wilson just....just stop. just freaking stop.

Hendershot and more

2009-12-06T23:35:00.002-05:00

So,
last week as I was sitting through a work meeting that somewhat vaguely involved me and consisted mostly of people reading agendas in the assumption that I cannot read, an idea of brilliance struck me like a bolt of lightning in the eyesocket:

Since I was only half-heartedly paying attention, I would write down every single thought that entered my mind at that second. now, this really has nothing to do with work as my thoughts rarely have anything to do with these meetings anyway.

At this point I would like to request that any work friends reading this maybe not mention it to anyone at work, such as, perhaps, my boss. And since I'm on vacation for a week, if you could just forget that I work there or that you know me while you read this - that would be great, thanks.

So here goes. Please do not expect any rhyme or reason:

"Drive-thru baked goods!"

"Tremendous opportunity for nepotism."

"Hooray for Hollywood and Hendershot!"

"Three TVs and one mean mofo."

"Guidelines of style and front and back breaking into 60 seconds of awesome."

"Pick one or the other or the other, but Jesus Christ, not that one!"

"Exclusive sponsorships of shows for the young and misguided."

"Hey-Ya! That group sucked."

"That's real fly in the vinegar, right there."

"Homeopathic homosapiens."

"Gray areas are so f'ing gray."

"Pedal to the hard substance underneath the general pedal area."

"Promote! Promote! Remote! Demote! OH NO MOTO! MOJO rising! Rising Sun! Blister in the sun! Breaking Blisters!"

"Charting a new course to the center of very, very, very hot sun."

"Fly like an Eagle. What about fly like a pigeon? Really, just flying would be cool. Style of flight is not so important as flight substance in the entire flying matter."

"Rock off with your socks off!"

"Failure is a very legitimate option."

Hello blogging my old friend...

2009-11-23T23:48:00.003-05:00

So. This is awkward. It's been awhile.
As I hear it from a vocal few, my blogging has been missed. I'm not sure what this says about the lives of the people who make such claims. Not much, I'm afraid.

Anywho, what's been going on with me, you ask?

Not much.

I bought a car. First time in seven years and the first time in 12 years I bought a car from a dealer. I had completely forgotten how much I hate buying cars.

As I left the dealer I figured one of the following. I:
A) got an awesome deal and totally screwed the dealer out of every last penny and they were stunned by my negotiating skills.
B) paid so much for the car that my salesman, Bobby, is sending his stupid, stupid children to private school and lighting his cigars with $20 bills.

Before we go on, some of you might think that mocking Bobby]'s children is mean. I don't actually know that these children are shockingly stupid. I can only guess that, after meeting their father, that they are genetically screwed in the IQ area.

Holy crap was this guy dumb. I showed up one day and said I wanted to drive X car, which I had seen on the web site.

"Hmmm, okay. Let me see if I can find the keys," Bobby said.
This was a 15 minute process that led us to a car that was not the one i wanted to drive.

"I'm not sure where that one on the web site is."

I turned around and pointed. "That's it."

"OOOOHHHHHHHH. Let me see if I can find the key."

10 more minutes.

"I can't find the keys. Would you just like to drive this one?"

"Sure, buddy. I'm going to drive this care while you take the time to find the other keys to the OTHER CAR I ACTUALLY MIGHT PURCHASE."

Etc. etc. more stupid things as he tried to sell me every car on the lot except the one I wanted.

Finally, Bobby relented. We dickered over price. I laughed out loud at their first offer for my beloved GTI. Bobby must have been in a hurry.

"What did you have in mind to pay when you came in here?"

And that was it. I didn't even get to storm out in mock anger.

And now, I own this sweet piece of machinery that is, as I write this, likely discovering new ways to break down.

Most disgusting thing I have ever seen

2009-08-31T21:37:00.002-05:00

I was going to post a picture of the lovely procedure I underwent today to stop my string of ingrown toenails. But I decided against it.

Let's just say if you're looking for something to test the 'ol gag reflux, type "ingrown toenail" into Google and look at all the images. oh my.

Anyway, it was something I had already seen today as Dr. Wagner (first name, and I'm not kidding is Steventon) jammed a ginormous Q-Tip into my toenail and halfway up my ankle. It's hard to go through an entire procedure trying desperately NOT to look at what's being done to your toe. Luckily, the doc had drugged my toe into the stratosphere. My toe was flying high.

It's been a rough couple weeks for the feet. Ingrown toenail, a rehash of the gout in the other foot. The plantar fas. Criminy. I'm tired of these suckers. anyone want to trade?

So, the weekend was interesting as Mr. Perry and I took in some high school football at Ohio Stadium, watching St. Thomas Aquinas of Ft. Lauderdale beat Upper Arlington so bad, they probably didn't even enjoy the ride home in Mummy and Poppy's Lexus. We had some nice seats, well, until 2Live Crew showed up to stand right in front of us. yes, son, there's certainly no reason for you to wear a shirt. Growing teenagers smell GREAT in the hot sun. And then there was a midget.

Other notes from the recent summer of non-blogging:

- Funny People should be renamed "Interminably long movie stars untalented hack, Adam Sandler"

- I hesitate to blog about work, but last weekend they decided to add two offices in our area. This required us to pack everything in our desks so they could move them three feet. It was a bit of a pain in the ass.

- mmmmm.. fall is here. I can smell the footblal.

This recession is real, bitches.

2009-07-21T20:21:00.007-05:00

There have been lots of charts and graphs and stimulus packages and home foreclosures and Wall Street crashes and bailouts, but it wasn't until today I knew the recession was the real deal, thanks to the A1 centerpiece of the Columbus Dispatch.

The horrifying news? Ohio's vanity plate market has tanked.

Sure, a lot of newspapers would have made the editorial error of burying this story in the Metro page or even (gasp!) the Life section. (Assuming your paper has a Life section or Metro section. Or that it's still in operation at all.) Not the brave souls at the Dispatch. They know Ohio's vanity license plate market is an unmatched economic bellweather.

And while other newspapers might make the mistake of assigning this story to some poor Ohio University intern who made a questionable career choice, not the Dispatch. Nope, at the Dispatch only a story as riveting as the collapse of the vanity plate industry can bring out the big gun: Managing Editor Ben Marrison.

Marrison pulls no punches with this hard-hitting feature, letting us know right up front things are not good in the Buckeye state:

With the recession forcing people to pinch pennies harder, more and more Ohioans are dropping their expensive plates in favor of the lower-cost, standard-issue variety.

What's that? You're not buying this well-crafted assumption? You're under the impression that people will cut back on their groceries, their utilities, attend Columbus State instead of Ohio State, but never, never give up their personalized plates?

Marrison douses the doubter with hard-hitting facts.

According to Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles records, Ohioans applied for 42,500 new vanity plates last year. However, because even more people dropped the special plates, the overall total fell by 277 vehicles. Last year's drop marked the first time in three years that sales fell for vanity plates - those with the logo of a college, a charitable cause, initials or words spelled in license-plate code.

That's right, Mr. Skeptic. Requests for specialized plates dropped by .6 percent.

Let that sink in. These are numbers that cannot be ignored.

Then Marrison drops the real bomb. Ohio is going to hell and the state does not even care.

Lindsay Komlanc, a spokeswoman for the Department of Public Safety, said the state doesn't study the reasons behind fluctuations in vanity or specialized plates.

"We do not have a mechanism for tracking why people are doing the things they're doing," she said, explaining that the bureau of motor vehicles is required to make plates based on legislation approved by the General Assembly.

Marrison wraps it up letting us know that this issue affects many of our Buckeye brethren.

"The most popular plates are those defined as "personalized," those on which people mix letters and numbers to spell out messages, such as CUL8R or BUCKEYE. Last year, nearly 330,000 vehicles had personalized plates, up 70 percent since 2001. Those with initials alone totaled 118,627 last year, up 24 percent during the same period."

Marrison didn't need to add - "For NOW" - to make his salient point.

I don't know if Ben Marrison has a personalized plate. But if it does, I'm guessing it says "BM - HERO."

Alright Already.

2009-07-15T22:22:00.003-05:00

Get off my back.

Anywho, today i stumbled across this beauty.

Media execs rocked by 15-year old's blunt, blistering anaylsis

where a bunch of suits were shocked when they gave a 15-year old intern an assignment (a 15-year old intern? Jesus, kid, go play basketball) and he returned with a SCATHING analysis of modern media.

"He goes on, dissing newspapers because teens "cannot be bothered" to read physical pages when they can get the condensed version online or on the tube. As for banner ads on the Web? "Extremely annoying and pointless," Robson observes (according to the Guardian). By the same token, Robson says teenagers are "very reluctant" to pony up for tunes, preferring to stream or share them for free."

Brilliant. Here's my analysis: Teenage boys are f'ing douchebags and nothing they say or write, no matter who gives them the assignment, should be given an ounce of bleeping credibility. Somebody spank this little shit.

Get it together, Ron

2009-06-29T22:13:00.003-05:00

C'mon, Ron.

Not only is Ron some kind of unemployed extra from Born on the Fourth of July who spends his days stealing copper to fuel his crystal meth habit, no Ron didn't even have the g*ddam courtesy to die in a non-embarrassing manner like the rest of these brave people being portrayed by actors in still photos.

See, Ron, American Electric Power isn't concerned about whether or not you steal their copper wiring. Ron, American Electric Power wants you to live a good wholesome life filled with happiness and don't die like a fucking chump, Ron.

And for God's sake dont' die on our power lines in a way your family could sue us, dumbass.

I mean, Ron, did you SEE the other people in the commercial? The lady cop. Dead. Firefighter? Dead. Cancer lady? Dead. But dead in appropriate ways, Ron. Even heroic, Ron.

Jesus, Ron. Get your shit together.

West Virginia+Las Vegas =

2009-06-22T00:16:00.003-05:00

.38 Special: Coming soon to a casino near you.

Father's Day!!
So, yes, for a Father's Day celebration me and Sam headed to Wheeling, W. B. G. Va. for a little dinner and gambling fun. (I'm a classy son.)

The fun didn't last long though. Dad got smoked on slots and I got hammered at the Blackjack tables rather quickly as the player who was drawing before decided it was his sole goal to collect every card in the deck. (uh, did you really just hit an Ace-Nine with the dealer showing a nine? what????)

He was one up on the 122-year old lady next to him, who stopped taking oxygen long enough to take a drag on her smoke. Twice I was pretty sure she was dead, but she managed to make the "hit me" motion with her fingers.

Best hand of the night? The lady who split her Aces, only to draw two more aces.

Ahh, Wheeling Island, the crass/gawdy parts of Las Vegas combined with the ghettos of Wheeling. The best of both worlds.

No offense to anyone. I'm only angry cause I lost so quickly. Usually it takes awhile before my money's gone. Not this week. The Island wasn't f'ing around.

Besides, I'll be back at the Island - Styx, REO Speedwagon and .38 Special are there in two weeks!

Speaking of .38 Special, can someone explain the meaning of the lyrics to their classic "Hold On Loosely"? They have always confused me.

Side note:
Best sign in St. Clairsville, Ohio? The giant blue one for VASECTOMY.COM.

This one hurt just a tad

2009-06-09T23:47:00.001-05:00

My life in the 90s. And part of the 00s. And most of the 80s.
Dammit.

Don't Ask. Don't F*cking Care

2009-06-09T23:39:00.003-05:00

So this guy's gay.

Couldn't miss it as it was the lead story on the front of Yahoo! today. Would have meant more if I knew who the hell he was.

Either way, I'm tired of celebrities coming out of the closet in magazine spreads.

I don't care about your sexual orientation. I don't care if you're straight, gay, bi or you like to hump puppies in an empty refrigerator box. It's none of my g&ddam business.

Now, dance attention-starved monkey, dance!

Dear Jackass

2009-05-27T20:33:00.003-05:00

It already says Range Rover on the back of your SUV.
It also says Range Rover on the license plate holder.
Therefore, I decree your personalized license plate of "RNGE RVER" to be repetitive, annoying and bleeping stupid.

Sincerely,
Phil

Blogcation officially over

2009-05-13T23:41:00.004-05:00

Sorry 'bout the delay, I've been busy keeping my couch pinnned to the floor or else that sucker would run clean away.

Actually, there were some computer issues as well.

Anyway, I'm here to complain about my excellent health insurance. See, during the periods of my life when I didn't have health insurance or had crappy insurance, which was, uh, any time preceeding 2007, I spent about 0 hours in the doctor's office.

Simply put - I couldn't afford to be sick. I had one surgery (I still miss you, gall bladder. Call me.) but other than that I ignored all aches and pains, assuming they would just go away or I'd die. It was a healthcare philosophy that worked incredibly well seeing as I'm still alive.

But now, I have a very nice health insurance package with my cushy corporate life and I can actually afford to go see the doctor. So, I do. I've seen more doctors in the last two years than the 15 previous. And the more you go to the doctor, the more shit they find wrong with you.

The latest? TMJ. (See diagram above.)

I don't really know what TMJ is, but it can hurt like a mother. So, now I gotta get some kind of mouth guard to wear while I sleep. I had one when I was 13. Glad to see I'm regressing.

And I'm already wearing those breathe right nose strips on my nose. Now a mouthpiece. Maybe I'll just start sleeping in a goddam football uniform.

Old-timey Tea Party

2009-04-17T00:10:00.002-05:00

Easter in the 'Ville

2009-04-13T18:14:00.000-05:00

That's Carter. Yes, he's that cute. And that hair is freaking perfect. I offered up to his Mom that she should start shaving his head and selling that stuff. No go. Carter is also bilingual. Okay, I should say that he seems to understand his Mom yelling at him in Spanish.

other Easter notes:

- Attention all drivers: I know you love your cruise control. But, if you are behind a semi, going 58 with the cruise on - if you pull into the passing lane to pass, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TAKE THE CRUISE OFF AND SPEED THE F*CK UP. IN FACT, IT IS YOUR MORAL G&*DDM IMPERATIVE TO SPEED UP.

- Wheeling Island took some it's money back from my last trip there. Doris was not a friendly dealer.

- There are two Japanese steakhouses in the greater Steubenville/Weirton metropolitan area. That seems excessive.

- My Dad is less than enthralled with the Pittsburgh Pirates TV announcers.

Son of a...

2009-03-25T23:43:00.004-05:00

One thing you may or may not know about me:

I have a song in my head.

All the time.

It's not the same song all the time. But it's always there.

Tonight, it's Rebirth Brass Band's "Do Whatch Wanna" which may seem odd, but I was listening to it on the Ipod and it got stuck.

This has been going on as long as I can remember. Wings' "Band on the Run" was a big one for most of the mid-1970s. Almost all of 1980 was spent with AC/DC's "Back in Black."

So, I when I hear a particular song, I tend to have very specific memory. For instance, the aforementioned Band on the Run is riding in a big yellow station wagon on the way to swimming lessons. Joe Jackson's "Steppin' Out," which remains one of my all-time favorite songs, is leaving the locker room at Bell-Herron Middle School and getting on the bus for a junior high basketball game at Sandy Valley. Fleetwood Mac's "Hold Me" is 4-H camp. (Yes, I went to 4-H camp. Shut up.)

And there are times when a song gets stuck. Rush's "La Villa Strangiato," which is a nine-minute instrumental, was firmly in my brain from 1987-1992. At least it seemed that way. It was like the song I would revert to when all other songs were absent.

When that happens I not only hear the song repeatedly, I go back through and do different parts - one time the drums, one time the bass, one time the vocals - it never, ever stops.

This is part of the reason I wear headphones at work a lot. It at least gives me a variation. That, and I can avoid talking to coworkers who want to, you know, uh, chat or something.

Also, I'm easily influenced. I hear a commercial jingle or some horrific piece of Dave Matthews trash - and it can get stuck in there just as easily.

Anyway, you get the gist. This brings me to last Saturday. With the weather getting nicer, I took the old Target-bought bike out for a spin. So, I'm pedaling my fat-ass down the street when I come upon this kid outside playing on the sidewalk. Which is fine. His right, I guess, although I didn't see his parents and I totally could have beat his ass.

But the little shit was singing, very loudly, The Chicken Dance.
there was no reason for him to be singing this. He wasn't at a wedding reception. He was outside, just screwing around.

And for the next 30 minutes I rode a bike and sang the Chicken Dance to myself - over and over and over. Do you know how many times you can sing the Chicken Dance to yourself in 30 minutes? A hell of a lot.

That little shit is getting thumped if I see him again.

Mr. Show - a favorite

2009-03-25T23:24:00.000-05:00

Corporetry!

2009-03-25T23:21:00.002-05:00

White Guyz

A sea of bald spots and sportcoats
Welcome to the MarriHolidaySuitesInn!

Bob, Tom, Dick, Rick, Rich, Rob, Tim and Dave
Steve, John, Dick, Tom, Ken, Joe, Bob and Bob

Shake Shake Shake
Back pat. Nice tie. Nice tie.
Remember that time?
Oh do I!

ECONOMY!
Grumble, rumble, huff, fist shake, ha-rumph!
Democrats/Republican/Government/Other!

GOLF!
Can't wait. Me either.
I'm bad. I'm worse! No, I am! No, me!
So bad.

OBAMA!
Grumble, rumble, huff, fist shake, ha-rumph!

Industry joke. Chuckle chuckle.
Funny cause it's so so true.

PowerPoint!
Paragraphs so very long.
Bullets are the answer.

Blackberry buzzes.
So important.

Lunch!

A weekend in bulleted form (now with even more bullets!)

2009-03-15T22:13:00.004-05:00

What's becoming an annual March trek to NW Indiana was once again a good time had by all as I hung with the Stalters.

- You know it's an odd weekend when your seats at the NHL game are better than your seats at the 13-year old hockey team game.

- My fake nephew Matthew's team lost 3-0, but #61 showed well on the wing.

- Was almost involved in one of those infamous hockey parent brawls. Hockey parents are an, um, interesting bunch.

- I like Blackhawks fans. There was zero heckling for our on-the-glass seats in the United Center, as Hawks fans were far too busy belittling their own team to pay any attention to us. The guy next to me said "I was just in Columbus on business. Nice little college town." Uh, okay dude.

- I stink at Call of Duty. Matthew killed me something like 20 times in a row.

- On a similar note:
I don't need an XBox 360.
I don't need an XBox 360.
I don't need an XBox 360.

I am an adult.

I don't need an XBox 360.

- A word about my fake niece Katy. She's 10 and is playing on the 12 and under indoor girls soccer team. Their opponents on this Saturday night were 14-year olds or as I called them "Gargantuan Towers of Evil." This was like a high school team playing against an NBA team. Ridiculous. That's Katy on the right in the above picture. I was hot they even put this matchup together, but damned if Katy didn't go out there and play her butt off against these 14-year old monsters. Crown Point, Indiana Soccer League, you are dead to me.

- When I asked Katy if some of her fourth grade classmates had cell phones she said "Yes, but that's retarded!"
I agreed wholeheartedly. She was emphatic. "I don't need a phone until seventh grade."

- Finished up with an Italian Beef from Portillos. good stuff.

The Colonel ain't f'in around

2009-03-08T21:41:00.005-05:00

This evening, sensing my body was dangerously low in saturated fats and starch, I made a quick trip through the KFC drive thru for dinner.

I was especially thirsty having spent the previous two hours screaming at the television set, which was not coincidentally showing an Ohio State basketball game. The Buckeyes are really talented. They have managed to take one of my favorite sports and completely suck the fun right out of it. That takes effort.

Anywho, I was thirsty. The drink choices on the KFC menu read as such:

Medium
Large
Mega

Small? Fuck that shit, man. The Colonel doesn't offer small. Would you ask Van Halen to "turn it down a notch?" Would you tell Tom Cruise to lightly jog instead of sprint in every movie? Hell no.

Something in me snapped. If the Colonel offered, the Colonel offered for a reason. Was it to test my manhood or maybe my bladder?

Whatever. Bring it, Colonel.

"Mega" I offered up to my highly-skilled KFC employee on the other end of this scintillating conversation.

I waited my turn with a wry grin. Mega, my ass. Did they know who they were messing with? I had taken the the Large, Extra Large, the Biggie, the Gulp, the Big Gulp, the Super Big Gulp. I'd seen a million drinks and I'd, uh, dranked them all.

Finally, I gunned the GTI and raced forward 12 feet to the pick-up window. My highly-trained KFC counterpart handed me original three-piece dinner and gave me a knowing smile.

"It'll be just a second on your drink."

Wait? The food was ready before the drink?
Umm..

I don't know if there is a small industrial-strength crane stored inside every KFC drive-thru window, but there must be, because I don't know how else this pimply-faced, highly-paid KFC employee got the Mega up to the window.

She gripped it with two hands and thrust it through the window.

"Here's your drink."

I couldn't hold it with one hand. Shaquille O'Neal couldn't hold this f'in thing with one hand. It had a handle. I'm not joking. It had a bleeping handle.

Not only wouldn't it fit in my cupholders, I think I heard it laugh when I tried to slip into into the adjustable cupholder. Instead, I placed it into the passenger seat. Immediately, the GTI began listing starboard.

We struggled home. I had to use the handle to lug it inside.

All is not lost friends. I drank and I drank. And then I drank some more.

Four hours later the Mega was beaten.
And I think I am now a diabetic.

Excuse me, friends.
I have to pee. Again.

weekend in reverse

2009-02-16T00:26:00.004-05:00

Friday night, the Princess and I headed to the movies. Waiting in line I was struck by the overall ugliness of the crowd in line. I don't mean mood. I mean looks. These people were downright unattractive and borderline hideous. I was pretty sure there were extra fingers, toes and chromosomes in this crowd. The Princess and I looked like freakin' rock stars.

Then it occurred to us that it was Friday the 13th and all these people were here to see, um, you know, "Friday the 13th."

Yikes. you know it's a rough crowd when you see multiple Insane Clown Posses T-shirts.

After Princess and I left our movie, one of the Friday the 13th exiters, sauntered towards me, baggy pants, sideways hat and Carmelo jersey yelling into the cell phone, talking to that "dumb mothafucka." Then she went to the ladies room.

I pissed my pants a little. I had just seen "Milk." I wasn't feeling my manliest.

I'm pretty sure Jason would be scared to shit of that crew.

Tips for a Saturday night...

2009-02-16T00:11:00.005-05:00

This photo of an unidentified man is all that remains from a Saturday night in Columbus.

here's the thing about drinking, going out and getting old - it's all about momentum. When you're a young'un, you can lose steam and quickly regather aforementioned steam, but at my advanced age, one slip-up and the night can turn into a headache and yawn fest.

So, when the band me and a couple others trekked to the campus area to see decided not to take the stage until 1 a.m., all momentum from earlier drinking was lost. Too bad, cause they seemed good.

And yes, i said "campus area." it brought back a lot of memories: the unsafe housing, the alcohol marketing materials used as decoration inside every apartment and the beer bottles strewn all about the, uh, everywhere. (wait, I think I left that one there in 1993.)

As for attending a shithole bar on campus to see a band, it was great to see the same alternative cast of characters still frequenting these establishments:

- the kid with the olive green Army jacket, big glasses and Chuck Taylors.
- the bartender with bangs so low you couldn't see her eyes, but somehow remained mysteriously hot.
- the funky girls with the funky glasses and funky clothes
- the guys who are way too old to be there, but they're in the band so...
- the rest wearing black or brown or ironic shirts. could have all been Stache's in 1994 as far as I was concerned. in fact, I think some of these people were probably there.

Anyway, it was good to hang out with the Fremont visitors.

Never sit behind this guy

2009-02-11T23:45:00.007-05:00

when you go to a US Men's National team game.

Actually, it was fine. I just did a bit of dodging. For those of you non-soccer believers, bite me. If you'd been at Crew Stadium tonight in the middle of some kind of rainy tornado with drums and bands and Mexicans, you'd love it too.

And the USA won, 2-0. Suck it, Tri-Colores.

The Mexican fans were nice, but they kept chanting something that sounded like Meh-Hee-Ko. Whatever, i couldn't follow those crazy accents.

The worst part of the evening was the absolute clusterf*ck getting to the game in the middle of a hurricane.

That picture about sums it. So Mrs. Shepler and I got out early to walk, while Mr. Shepler parked the car somewhere in Chillicothe, RAN to the game and got there at the same time as we did. Show off.

the game was awesome. Especially since the team I was rooting for won. Otherwise, it would have sucked.

the trip home included mud and a tour of some of Columbus' better neighborhoods between 4th and Summit. We also bought crack.

Hats, hats, hats

2009-02-03T22:52:00.008-05:00

seem to be playing an overstated role in my life.

Hat trick! Against the Red Wings no less.

Mucho thanks to MacDaddy for going with me on a last minute's notice and for remembering to bring a hat to toss on the ice. Although, it was an Ohio University hat, so no big loss.

And then there's the hat of the Princess, who joined me for Groundhog's celebration in Linden of all places.

For those of you who know the Princess, let's not tell her about her pic being on the internets. I would be beaten.

As for my hat on this evening, let's just say "Shaft." It's a good thing I was close to Cleveland Avenue. I took a couple ladies over there later in the night and got some work in.

Other stuff:

- Nearly quit work in fit of rage. Decided not to. Then nearly did cause I was mad again. Seriously, why can't everyone just do as I want? This would make work much more bearable. Then remembered we're in a recession. I hope I don't get laid off. That's not my style. I like to go out in a blaze of embarrassment and slight humiliation.

- If you're on the facebook, like me, you have undoubtedly been tagged with the 25 things. For those of you who don't know, you're supposed to come up with some bullshit list of 25 things about yourself and share it with all the jerkos on facebook. yeah. blow me. If there were 25 things, and I can neither confirm nor deny that there are, it's none of your business.

- FIVE GUYS.

- Mellow Mushroom is up next.

- With these developments, I've learned Polaris is too far from my apartment. Or maybe it's better that way.

- I found a house I want to buy. Now, if I had a down payment and my credit didn't suck and I made enough money to afford it, I'd be in fine shape. Other than that, I'm thinking I'm in by April. It's empty anyway. They probably won't notice.

- Or maybe I'll move away.

Can Jack Bauer save the Amish?

2009-01-27T00:58:00.004-05:00

Isn't it just the best when something in your actual life coincides with the TV world? Of course, it is. Like when the guy on that show Herman's Head would wear Ohio State sweatshirts or when we found out Johnny Utah was a former OSU quarterback. Or maybe when the Keaton family resided in Columbus and Dad worked at Kenyon.

You celebrate. Yay, people in Hollywood are aware of our existence! Or can at least read a map!

So when the bad guy on Fox's "24" decides he's going to release some deadly chemicals because the stubborn-ass President isn't caving to his demands - he naturally chose Kidron, Ohio as the town to destroy!

Now, we have to wait to next week to see if Kidron gets crushed, but there are some slight factual inaccuracies. Kidron was listed as a town of roughly 30,000 people. Maybe there are 3,000 people in Kidron - if the flea market is going good during a spring Saturday.

Mostly, blowing up Kidron would just kill the Amish. Seriously, you can't get through the town without getting stuck behind about 20 buggies.

Perhaps Rupert Murdoch has decided its time to wipe out these technology terrorists with their lack of zippers and electricity. Well, you got me Rupert, now I've got to tune in next week to find out the fate of the Amish. And maybe even the Mennonites.

Or it could be late and I need to go to bed.

Top 5 worst movies of 2009

2009-01-27T00:45:00.004-05:00

Top 5 worst movies of 2009:

(Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with movies made in 2009. These are movies I've watched in 2009 that were not good.)

1. Armageddon
Sure, it was made in 1998, but I watched it tonight. Holy shit this movie is bad. In every imaginable way. Isn't there some kind of limit on montages in a single movie?

2. In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale
Ray Liotta plays an evil wizard who is not a mobster. That guy from Snatch is in it and he kicks a lot of ass. And it's almost a complete rip off of Lord of the Rings. Gee, but other than that...

3. Lucky You
Drew Barrymore and that Eric Banna guy attempt to commit career suicide while learning to play poker. Wait, can Drew Barrymore actually commit career suicide at this point?

4. Jumper
Young Darth Vader travels through time with same annoying look on face. Samuel L. Jackson wears wig. Phil sleeps.

5. Premonition
Sandra Bullock sees her hubby biting the big one, repeatedly. Over and over and over. Freaking again and again. to the point where you hope he finally just dies.

Not bad movies of 2009:

Be Kind Rewind
Mildly amusing if slightly cheesy.

Traitor
Needed another big twist at the end, but many things blow up.

Co-Ed Confidential 2: Sophmores
Cinemax rocks. Actual line "Oooh, you're getting an extra big tip for that!"

Man, I wish

2009-01-27T00:39:00.002-05:00

I would let myself blog about work.

Because it's unintentional corporate hilariousness.

As it is, all I can offer is this:

There was a meeting, which came right after our other meeting about the next meeting and he/she/transgender totally said XXX and that was just downright hypocritical cause last week he/she/transgender said YYY and I don't know why he/she/transgender would say that other than he/she/transgender is borderline retarded.

And you'd think the threat of looming layoffs would make the other he/she/transgender work a bit harder, but NOOOOO and then there was a total clusterfuck and that reversed all the projects until it turned out the clusterfuck was just sort of a minor clusterfuck, so we resumed.

And then we had a meeting about it. Totally hilarious. awww, man. I totally saw THAT one coming. I should punch that person in the face.

And DTV transition.

Scene.

Here's how you know you have good co-workers...

2009-01-19T01:32:00.004-05:00

shortly after your little German machine spins out in the driveway at work, stalls and refuses to restart in -3 degree weather...

- one coworker drives right by you, goes to your floor and tells everyone "some idiot in a red car is parked right in the middle of the entrance!"

- After you call in and ask for help to push your car out of the way, they respond by rushing to the window to watch and take pictures on their Iphones (like above.)

No, no, my car is FINE. thanks so much. went out at lunch and started right up.

jagoffs.

On another VW GTI note, on one of the days the temps reached single digits, there was a slight malfunction with the GTI. Namely, I made the fatal error of attempting to put down the driver's side window. Now, what happens is that my window freezes into the door frame, but the little engine for the power window is not so easily deterred. It just goes ahead and rolls that damn window down, whether that window is attached or not.

Eventually the window thaws a bit and then falls into the door. Of course, it's never quite on track and won't roll back up.

So, I got to drive around in 8 degrees temps with my window down for a day. Fantastic.

anyway, I take the VW to my mechanic and he says "Hopefully, we can just put the window back in and it won't take too long."

What he meant to say was "This will be the easiest $136.57 we ever make."

A little lax

2009-01-19T01:26:00.002-05:00

on the blogging.
Or so I've been told.
Repeatedly.

I know, I know. Really, there just hasn't been that much to report. 2009 has been filled with, uh, not too freakin' much.

But I'll try better. I swear.

Holiday notes

2008-12-28T23:52:00.003-05:00

A Merry Xmas and Happy New whatever to all you jokers that are still reading this mess.

Here, in bullet form for easier reading because we are a very stupid people, are my observations, notes, happenings and thoughts from the holiday season:

- First of all, I finally got to meet the infamous Soren Ray Yates during his trip to see the family. He was a tasty little bugger. If only I'd had some BBQ sauce.

- I have now been to Barton, Ohio. Wow.

- A couple stories from my cousins on either side of the family and you will never want to have a child.

- Music trivia is big in Wadsworth.

- AholeonaPC has discontinued her blog, which is a big freaking bah-humbug in my book. Not to guilt trip you, ahole, but I'll never speak to you again.

- And I got sick.

A Christmas miracle

2008-12-28T23:34:00.003-05:00

I spent four days in the 'Ville for the holidays, hanging with Pops, watching football, listening to mildly insane theories about Republicans, Charismatic Catholics and the Pittsburgh Steelers. All part of the family charm.

On day two, while visiting my one of my father's many bathrooms (and by many, I mean two) I came to the conclusion he was in desperate need of a new toilet seat. My Dad has one of those padded seats for a little extra comfort during life's quality moments. Hey, who can blame him?

But his current padded seat had been installed sometime in 1991. It had seen a lot of action over the years and was just worn down. There were some rips. To be blunt, if you happen to sit the wrong way, it was like taking a crap on an open box of steak knives.

"Dad, I should have gotten you a new toilet seat for Christmas," I exclaimed with a fright.

"Oh, I've got one. I just can't get it put on cause of my knees."

After a huge meal and a 90-minute nap and a football game and a Seinfeld marathon, I leapt into action. I was well prepared with pliers, several screwdrivers and that things that holds the other thingies in place on the watchmacallit. It was exhausting, the turning and the holding and the unscrewing.

But I did it. That's right. I fixed something. In the bathroom. My Dad now relieves himself with a newfound peace. Heck, I spent a couple hours just hanging out on this newly installed wonder.

This makes it official: I'm handy, mofos.

F You, Weatherologisters

2008-12-17T23:43:00.004-05:00

I'd like to take just a moment of your time to talk about "black ice."

I don't know what this is, but I'm supposed to be scared a lot. According to the men with the hair who stand in front of the green screens on the TV, I will probably die unless I drive like my Grandma because of the "black ice."

Thus, I have come to this conclusion: I have decided to not believe in "black ice."

A) I've never seen it. Nobody has.

B) Ice is clear.

C) Totally racist.

Dry ice - you're on the clock.

Tips and such

2008-12-09T00:54:00.002-05:00

Dear History Channel,

I love you. I really do. Got vintage black and white footage of the Archduke Ferdinand in a parade the day before he gets shot to start World War I? I'm in. I revel in my History Channel dorkiness.

That being said, I would like to give you three small tips that will perhaps make your programming better.

1) Ancient Cities of the Underworld could be an interesting show, although when you do tunnels underneath LA, I'm not sure that really qualifies as an ancient city. Anyway, the reason the show struggles is because host Don Wildman (pictured) is such a complete self-promoting, drama queen douchebag it makes me want to puncture my ear drum with a toothpick. Fire him. Immediately. Hire someone who is not as impressed with themselves for climbing down a hole.

2) I estimate that 75 percent of your shows involve Hitler. This is fine with me. You can never have enough Hitler ass-kicking in my book. And that's a war we good guys win every, single time! But slapping a small Hitler-esque mustache on any old actor does not make them look like Hitler during one of your outstanding re-enactments. The actor should actually somewhat resemble Hitler. Corbin Bernsen would probably make a poor Hitler.

3) The economy, as you may have heard, is difficult. Regardless, you are allowed to have more than three advertisers. I'm sure Rosetta Stone is a fine product, but if I see Michael Phelps signing autographs with his freakishly enormous, webbed, disgusting toes one more time, I will snap those chicken nuggets off his gold-medal winning feet myself.
And despite it's ties to Hitler and never-ending promotion, Tom Cruise (with eyepatch!) playing a good Nazi in Valkyrie looks like a huge pile of suck in my book.

4) You should totally add Battlefield Britain, which was an awesome show and was only on PBS for one season. Check out the example below. Maybe these guys would take the job of that jagoff Don Wildman.

Battlefield Britain - More bloopers are a click away

Turkey Day '08: The Sweatening

2008-11-27T19:45:00.002-05:00

I made the annual Thanksgiving trek to Farrington Road Thursday.

I love my Grandma to death, but she's 86 and cold. The thermometer read 77 degrees and the woman had a sweater on. My aunt had a sweatshirt on and i felt like I wasn't sure which was hotter - me or the turkey.

Anyway, the turkey and fixins were fantastic as always, especially the Old Fashioned Cream Pie.

Some topics discussed around the table:

- All professional sports teams should be able to finish .500 or better because they are professionals. And despite it being nearly statistically impossible and despite the fact they play against other professionals.

- Certain people in my family are tired of athletes signing big contracts and then getting hurt. they shouldn't do that.

- My Grandma doesn't like watching sports and seeing all the "rigamarole."

- An in-depth critique of the job Drew Carey has done on the Price is Right. (Drew, your fan base likes you but thinks you talk too fast.)

- Once in 1957 my aunt got paddled. My Dad finds this story hilarious and very memorable since he brings it up every time we see her.

Sometimes, just sometimes

2008-11-20T21:01:00.002-05:00

While I greatly enjoy my status as an angry old man, every once in awhile science proves me right. Even if it is Fox News.

I knew you punk kids were trouble.

HBO's finest

2008-11-18T01:11:00.000-05:00

Tonight on HBO, they showed Cool as Ice. I watched it. I'm not sure which is worse.

I totally had that jacket.

Stop, listen, read

2008-11-12T22:59:00.001-05:00

to the new podcast.

or read the blog.

especially if you like college football.

just do it, jerkoffs. I know you're not busy.

Here comes the change

2008-11-12T00:07:00.003-05:00

Below is an exchange between CNN's John King and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid from Sunday's Late Editon:

KING: There's been some talk of keeping Secretary Gates on for some time. Is that acceptable to you?

REID: Sure. I think we need a good transition there. I am confident that Senator Obama has somebody in mind for secretary of defense but Gates -- you know, it's interesting, my conversation with Secretary Gates, he's not even a Republican. Why wouldn't we want to keep him? He's never been a registered Republican.

Right, because being a registered Republican should automatically disqualify anyone, much less a distinguised, qualified candidate from being Secretary of Defense.

F you, Harry Reid. You are exactly what's wrong with this government.

Jackass.

Let's Go Jackets (clap .. clap .. clap, clap, clap)

2008-11-11T23:51:00.003-05:00

Got TWO sets of free corporatey goodness to the Blue Jackets games the past two Saturdays.

First, my friends from down south made a trip up along with Good Time Charley. Then last week, an upstanding member of the Carrollton Exempted School District Board of Education and another old-timey snare drummer met up with me for more hockey.

I believe the three of us were last in the same car in 1988. It had been awhile.

By the way, 2112, you will understand the power of the Jackets when they defeat the Pens for the Cup!

- I was slightly offended today by my landlord. I called this morning because somehow this summer my kitchen window became stuck open. It's a strange window, there's a turny-thing (technical terminology) and it just kind of props it open. When I tried to close it, the screwy-thing came out of the socket and no matter how much I turned, the turny-thing just kept turning without the window closing. This became a little cold last night and I'm sure I was wasting about a billion megawatts of heat.

So today, I called and explained that my window was BROKEN.

When I returned home this afternoon, the repairman left a little note on the "I WAS IN YOUR RESIDENCE TODAY" letterhead left on my sink.

"CLOSED WINDOW"

Closed window? I may, perhaps, not be what's known as handy or capable of fixing anything or "mechanically inclined" but for God's sake, I can close a GODDAMN WINDOW.

That's it. i'm moving out. Assholes

From the back of my brain

2008-11-06T22:58:00.003-05:00

- why would Pepsi choose a 10-year old Saturday Night Live skit (and awful, awful movie) as the basis for their PepsiMax ad campaign? Of course Dr. Pepper chose Dr. Frazier Crane as a spokesman. Yes, by all means let's take things that sucked in the 90s and are in no way nostalgic and peddle carbonated drinks to them. Criminy, I'm more relevant than that.

- I'm the "chip" guy at work. To you married people, this means when the office does a potluck, I bring the chips and dip/salsa. This is because my coworkers do not trust me to cook any kind of food. That's fine as I do not offer my culinary skills up to anyone. Not even myself. Plus I get to keep the leftover chips.

- I have a co-worker with a hyphenated name. Something like Wilson-Smith. I used to be all for the hyphenated names, i guess. I never really thought about it until now, but it seems there are logistical issues.
Let's say Wilson-Smith has a child with the last name Wilson-Smith and that child marries another hyphentated name: Johnson-Bigelow and they have a child. Well, since they have already been raised in a pro-hyphenated world, they then must hyphyenated. Therefore, world, meet Johnny Wilson-Smith-Johnson-Bigelow.

Then Johnny W-S-J-B meets a lovely lass in college whose grandparents and parents were also "hyphenators". So then, Johnny and Allison Bierhoff-Herman-McGillicuddy-Jehosephat and decide to have a child.

I present you Katie Wilson-Smith-Johnson-Bigelow-Bierhoff-Herman-McGillicuddy-Jehosephat.

Frankly, our paper supply will run out if this continues.

- It costs $6.50 for 20 oz. of Natural Light at a Blue Jackets game.
Seriously.

Election night stuff

2008-11-05T00:29:00.002-05:00

- Think what you want, but damn, that guy can give a speech.

- Katie Couric seems, um, not good at her job. I am biased because I've always been a big Jeff Greenfield fan and Katie continually kept interrupting him with completely uninteresting facts her producers were obviously whispering in her ears.

- ABC went straight for the schlock factor during Obama's acceptance speech. Enough with the closeups of teary-eyed Obama supporters. Geesh. And especially no more weird, through-the-crowd shots of sobbing Jesse Jackson and Oprah.

- NBC seemed obsessed with celebrating black people as soon as Obama clinched.

- I can't decide if I am happy Ohio went blue. It was kind of nice to thumb our collective noses at the coasts.

- Was Sarah Palin about to tear up during McCain's speech? Maybe she was just trying to work up the tears and couldn't pull it off.

- While the thing in Chicago was cool, I could not imagine being in the crowd. That's just too many people.

- We now have a socialist/terrorist/Muslim for a President. that's kind of fun.

Now that it's over

2008-11-05T00:24:00.003-05:00

Okay, I voted for Obama.

This endorsement from The Econommist basically sums up my opinion and it's written far better than I'm capable of...

The presidential election
It's time

Oct 30th 2008
From The Economist print edition
America should take a chance and make Barack Obama the next leader of the free world

AP

IT IS impossible to forecast how important any presidency will be. Back in 2000 America stood tall as the undisputed superpower, at peace with a generally admiring world. The main argument was over what to do with the federal government’s huge budget surplus. Nobody foresaw the seismic events of the next eight years. When Americans go to the polls next week the mood will be very different. The United States is unhappy, divided and foundering both at home and abroad. Its self-belief and values are under attack.

For all the shortcomings of the campaign, both John McCain and Barack Obama offer hope of national redemption. Now America has to choose between them. The Economist does not have a vote, but if it did, it would cast it for Mr Obama. We do so wholeheartedly: the Democratic candidate has clearly shown that he offers the better chance of restoring America’s self-confidence. But we acknowledge it is a gamble. Given Mr Obama’s inexperience, the lack of clarity about some of his beliefs and the prospect of a stridently Democratic Congress, voting for him is a risk. Yet it is one America should take, given the steep road ahead.
Thinking about 2009 and 2017

The immediate focus, which has dominated the campaign, looks daunting enough: repairing America’s economy and its international reputation. The financial crisis is far from finished. The United States is at the start of a painful recession. Some form of further fiscal stimulus is needed, though estimates of the budget deficit next year already spiral above $1 trillion. Some 50m Americans have negligible health-care cover. Abroad, even though troops are dying in two countries, the cack-handed way in which George Bush has prosecuted his war on terror has left America less feared by its enemies and less admired by its friends than it once was.

Yet there are also longer-term challenges, worth stressing if only because they have been so ignored on the campaign. Jump forward to 2017, when the next president will hope to relinquish office. A combination of demography and the rising costs of America’s huge entitlement programmes—Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid—will be starting to bankrupt the country. Abroad a greater task is already evident: welding the new emerging powers to the West. That is not just a matter of handling the rise of India and China, drawing them into global efforts, such as curbs on climate change; it means reselling economic and political freedom to a world that too quickly associates American capitalism with Lehman Brothers and American justice with Guantánamo Bay. This will take patience, fortitude, salesmanship and strategy.

At the beginning of this election year, there were strong arguments against putting another Republican in the White House. A spell in opposition seemed apt punishment for the incompetence, cronyism and extremism of the Bush presidency. Conservative America also needs to recover its vim. Somehow Ronald Reagan’s party of western individualism and limited government has ended up not just increasing the size of the state but turning it into a tool of southern-fried moralism.

The selection of Mr McCain as the Republicans’ candidate was a powerful reason to reconsider. Mr McCain has his faults: he is an instinctive politician, quick to judge and with a sharp temper. And his age has long been a concern (how many global companies in distress would bring in a new 72-year-old boss?). Yet he has bravely taken unpopular positions—for free trade, immigration reform, the surge in Iraq, tackling climate change and campaign-finance reform. A western Republican in the Reagan mould, he has a long record of working with both Democrats and America’s allies.
If only the real John McCain had been running

That, however, was Senator McCain; the Candidate McCain of the past six months has too often seemed the victim of political sorcery, his good features magically inverted, his bad ones exaggerated. The fiscal conservative who once tackled Mr Bush over his unaffordable tax cuts now proposes not just to keep the cuts, but to deepen them. The man who denounced the religious right as “agents of intolerance” now embraces theocratic culture warriors. The campaigner against ethanol subsidies (who had a better record on global warming than most Democrats) came out in favour of a petrol-tax holiday. It has not all disappeared: his support for free trade has never wavered. Yet rather than heading towards the centre after he won the nomination, Mr McCain moved to the right.

Meanwhile his temperament, always perhaps his weak spot, has been found wanting. Sometimes the seat-of-the-pants method still works: his gut reaction over Georgia—to warn Russia off immediately—was the right one. Yet on the great issue of the campaign, the financial crisis, he has seemed all at sea, emitting panic and indecision. Mr McCain has never been particularly interested in economics, but, unlike Mr Obama, he has made little effort to catch up or to bring in good advisers (Doug Holtz-Eakin being the impressive exception).

The choice of Sarah Palin epitomised the sloppiness. It is not just that she is an unconvincing stand-in, nor even that she seems to have been chosen partly for her views on divisive social issues, notably abortion. Mr McCain made his most important appointment having met her just twice.

Ironically, given that he first won over so many independents by speaking his mind, the case for Mr McCain comes down to a piece of artifice: vote for him on the assumption that he does not believe a word of what he has been saying. Once he reaches the White House, runs this argument, he will put Mrs Palin back in her box, throw away his unrealistic tax plan and begin negotiations with the Democratic Congress. That is plausible; but it is a long way from the convincing case that Mr McCain could have made. Had he become president in 2000 instead of Mr Bush, the world might have had fewer problems. But this time it is beset by problems, and Mr McCain has not proved that he knows how to deal with them.

Is Mr Obama any better? Most of the hoopla about him has been about what he is, rather than what he would do. His identity is not as irrelevant as it sounds. Merely by becoming president, he would dispel many of the myths built up about America: it would be far harder for the spreaders of hate in the Islamic world to denounce the Great Satan if it were led by a black man whose middle name is Hussein; and far harder for autocrats around the world to claim that American democracy is a sham. America’s allies would rally to him: the global electoral college on our website shows a landslide in his favour. At home he would salve, if not close, the ugly racial wound left by America’s history and lessen the tendency of American blacks to blame all their problems on racism.

So Mr Obama’s star quality will be useful to him as president. But that alone is not enough to earn him the job. Charisma will not fix Medicare nor deal with Iran. Can he govern well? Two doubts present themselves: his lack of executive experience; and the suspicion that he is too far to the left.

There is no getting around the fact that Mr Obama’s résumé is thin for the world’s biggest job. But the exceptionally assured way in which he has run his campaign is a considerable comfort. It is not just that he has more than held his own against Mr McCain in the debates. A man who started with no money and few supporters has out-thought, out-organised and outfought the two mightiest machines in American politics—the Clintons and the conservative right.

Political fire, far from rattling Mr Obama, seems to bring out the best in him: the furore about his (admittedly ghastly) preacher prompted one of the most thoughtful speeches of the campaign. On the financial crisis his performance has been as assured as Mr McCain’s has been febrile. He seems a quick learner and has built up an impressive team of advisers, drawing in seasoned hands like Paul Volcker, Robert Rubin and Larry Summers. Of course, Mr Obama will make mistakes; but this is a man who listens, learns and manages well.

It is hard too nowadays to depict him as soft when it comes to dealing with America’s enemies. Part of Mr Obama’s original appeal to the Democratic left was his keenness to get American troops out of Iraq; but since the primaries he has moved to the centre, pragmatically saying the troops will leave only when the conditions are right. His determination to focus American power on Afghanistan, Pakistan and proliferation was prescient. He is keener to talk to Iran than Mr McCain is— but that makes sense, providing certain conditions are met.

Our main doubts about Mr Obama have to do with the damage a muddle-headed Democratic Congress might try to do to the economy. Despite the protectionist rhetoric that still sometimes seeps into his speeches, Mr Obama would not sponsor a China-bashing bill. But what happens if one appears out of Congress? Worryingly, he has a poor record of defying his party’s baronies, especially the unions. His advisers insist that Mr Obama is too clever to usher in a new age of over-regulation, that he will stop such nonsense getting out of Congress, that he is a political chameleon who would move to the centre in Washington. But the risk remains that on economic matters the centre that Mr Obama moves to would be that of his party, not that of the country as a whole.
He has earned it

So Mr Obama in that respect is a gamble. But the same goes for Mr McCain on at least as many counts, not least the possibility of President Palin. And this cannot be another election where the choice is based merely on fear. In terms of painting a brighter future for America and the world, Mr Obama has produced the more compelling and detailed portrait. He has campaigned with more style, intelligence and discipline than his opponent. Whether he can fulfil his immense potential remains to be seen. But Mr Obama deserves the presidency.

Politics are awesome

2008-10-30T21:52:00.005-05:00

I stumbled across this video today.

If you don't want to watch, and really, no person in their right mind would, I don't blame you.

The short version is a bunch of people at a Sarah Palin rally insulting Barack Obama in all the usual ways - terrorist, Muslim, black, communist, etc. etc. whatever.

My post is not to belittle these people. They do that to themselves with their own stupidity.

But really, this whole video is just 'stupidity' entrapment. Is it really necessary for Obama supporters to stand outside a Palin rally and protest? What the fuck does that prove? That you know how to chant? Did you expect a warm hug? and this guy just happened to bring a long a video camera. Gosh, how lucky he was there to record these events.

Politics in this country has turned into a football game. Except football fans are nicer. There are two sides, everybody picks a color, holds a fucking pep rally and then play your little game of who can spread the most bullshit.

This is what the two-party system has wrought. Millions of people will vote Tuesday because one guy has 'R' next to his name and the other guy has 'D.'How many will vote based on their actual opinions about the policies of John McCain and Barack Obama?

of course, who the fuck knows what the policies of these two actually are? From what I've heard McCain is a crazy old man with a bad temper who will just continue to do the same thing Bush has done for the past eight years and is incapable of original thought. Obama is a socialist/terrorist/elitist who will destroy the economy, Israel and likely end the world.

So what do I know about these two? Not a fucking thing. Every thing they say is parsed to death by the opposing camp/media/talk radio as a lie/distortion of the truth. How the fuck would I possibly know what's true and what's not? How would any of us know? They all have economists, generals, experts and talking heads to tell me why they're right and the other side is a bunch of fucking morons.

of course, we bite on every last bit of it. We listen to the words that make us feel better about our own ideas and laugh at those that make us seem stupid.

And we cling to bullshit ideals instilled in us by our parents, or for some of us, the opposite of the ideals instilled in us by our parents. of course, those ideals came from a long line of politicial bullshit in this country that's existed for many years. For generations we have been manipulated to cheer for one side or the other based on religion, jobs, family, economic status and even just plain ego.

My grandparents considered FDR a savior. Others considered him a socialist devil who ruined this country. What's the damned difference?

You know what? That guy who says he won't vote for Obama because he's black? At least that fucking guy is honest. Stupid and bigoted, but honest.

So next Tuesday we'll all vote and let's say, for example, that Barack Obama is elected President.

He will spend his first 100 days attempting to do something so he can say he did something in first 100 days because for some reason the first 100 days is really important. He might, might even actually work with Republicans to pass legislation.

But once that 100 days is up, he'll have to concentrate on the 2010 midterm elections and he and no other Democrat will work to pass any legislation that could possibly help a Republican get elected, so the government will go stagnant.

After the midterm elections, Obama will then begin campaigning for re-election in 2012. He will pass no legislation that could possibly come back to haunt him for his re-election. He will do everything he can to make the Republicans look band. (And they will do the same to him.)

If he gets re-elected to a second term, he will then try to pass a lot of legislation to firm up his "legacy." Republicans will agree to none of it in the hopes of getting a Republican back in the White House. (Example: See how much the Democrat-controlled Congress has achieved the past two years. Answer: Nothing. Just to make sure Bush looks bad.)

Then we will have an election and the whole thing will be repeated again.

Fantastic.

Call me unpatriotic, but this is a borderline retarded system of government and an absolute travesty of the original system.

Do me a favor. Before your vote next Tuesday, make sure to really study the local issues and representatives that are also on your ballot. Cause the rest of it is just a waste of goddam time.

Another nephew

2008-10-16T22:50:00.004-05:00

Soren Ray Yates entered the world yesterday in a hurry. He was two weeks early. And it was only three hours of labor, so quickly Mom couldn't even get lit up on the drugs (a fact Junior will come to regret in future years.) That's right, Betsy Yates, did natural childbirth, just like the rough and tumble women of the frontier. Heck, I hear all they had at the hospital was some boiling water and clean towels.

Anyway, congratulations to the newest Mom and Pop in the Phoenix metropolitan area. I can't wait to meet Junior and get him stoned out of his gourd on candy and ice cream.

Remember when I used to blog?

2008-10-08T22:34:00.002-05:00

Oh, those were the days back in 07 when the blogs would come fast and furious.

Nowadays, though, I'm old and tired. And the Dog Whisperer is on a lot. Or some CSI or a video game.

I'm saying there are things that hold more interest to me than, say, making an effort here. Things such as the sleeping and the napping and the laying down.

I was all excited to blog about last night's Presidential debate until it began and I realized you could pretty much get a summary by reading each candidate's talking points. holy crap was it boring.

There are things i could be blogging about, but it's none of your damned business.

Is that a bad attitude for a blogger?

Running Pet Peeve

2008-09-29T23:06:00.003-05:00

Tonight, I was watching the local news as I sometimes do when I can't find the remote. Not sure if you guys have heard, but there's some kind of financial crisis.

(WARNING: ABOUT TO REVEAL NEWSGATHERING SECRETS OF JOURNO-WORLD.)

One of the favorite things editors at local newspapers/TV and radio stations like to do is read what is known in the biz as "the wire." "The wire" is a file of news stories that magically shows up on your computer when you are an editor, about 12 seconds before it shows up on the internet. Editors read these stories by this magician known as "AP" and then they say things to themselves like "Hmmm, that's a good story idea. How can I take steal that story idea and make it unique to my newspaper/town/community/four people who still subscribe to this rag?"

The editor then types into what is called a "budget." (Or as some call it - a list of stories that will appear in the story the next day.) The editor cleverly types in the story and then goes back and types the word "localize" next to it.

This means the reporter will call some person who resides/works in YOUR town and get their opinion on this story. This way you get to read the same story twice but it means more because the guy who's words are between the quote marks lives down the street. (For reference, google "Political, Columbus Dispatch, Herb Asher".)

It's an easy gig for the reporter, an easy gig for the editor and it helps fill newshole on slow days. So be it. No judgment. I was as guilty as any in pretending this is actual news.

But there is a tragic flaw in this plan when it comes to financial stories. Tonight, a local news station "localized" the bailout by interviewing an area investment advisor. He, of course, advised that this is "potentially the best time in history to invest in the stock market!"

He could possibly be right. He could also be completely full of shit. The thing is, financial advisors will always, always, always ADVISE YOU TO INVEST YOUR MONEY IN THE MARKET.

It is their bleeping job to get you to invest in the market. They make their living depending on how much money you invest in the market.

Stocks are good? BETTER GET IN NOW!
Stocks are down? BEST TIME TO INVEST!

Just once I'd love to see a financial advisor in an interview say "Holy shit! Pull all your money out and bury it in the goddamn backyard!"

criminy.

The Bailout

2008-09-25T00:36:00.004-05:00

far be it from me to ever blog about politics or finance or financial politics, but:

- $700 billion does not seem to be that much money. I bet it ends up costing much more than that. Cause I have a difficult time believing that it only takes $700 billion to shore up our entire economy. That seems a little loopy.

- Looks like Paulson has agreed to some Congressional oversight unlike his original proposal which included him being named Grand Pooh Bah of the money. Yippity Shit. Congressional oversight. Big Freaking Deal. What's Congressional oversight done for the past eight years? Not a goddam thing. Thanks for all your Congressional oversight on the war and Guantanamo and Abu Gharib and the rebuilding of Iraq and the search for Bin Laden.
they can pretty up all they want, but Paulson, unfortunately, will do whatever the hell he wants and the second he gets any crap about it, he'll go back to Goldman Sachs where he'll reap the benefits of just having given his employer a few hundred billion dollars.

- Save me all the BS about CEO earnings being capped. What a complete non-factor generated by the Dems as a political talking point. This is as pointless as the whole Lou Dobbs "jobs going overseas" obsession. Yes, some CEOs make unfathomable amounts of money. it's like being a head football coach. You also get fired about every three years, so naturally you try to get the best deal for yourself. it's really a very small amount of the total monies. this is a purely politically-generated issue that means nothing in the long run. Much like the Republicans ever mentioning "God" or 'gays" during a campaign.

- If I went to work for Goldman Sachs, moved to the Gulf Coast and got a subprime mortgage on my beach house, would I ever have to pay for anything again?

- How come people who couldn't afford their giant homes and took stupid loans and companies who made the stupid loans to people who couldn't afford their giant homes get bailed out while my credit just goes to shit if i don't make a payment?

- The bailout is a stupid plan. I think we should just let these jokers fail. So what if we get another Great Depression. This country could probably use one of those so maybe people might appreciate all the useless crap in their lives a bit more.

Nice try, Ike

2008-09-15T22:06:00.004-05:00

Came close, you breezy bastard, but the GTI survives. I spent a good two hours trying to find a restaurant with the Browns-Steelers on Sunday night after Ike came through town and shut down the power. They were all packed. I ended up spending 20 minutes in a Burger King drive-thru and eating at work, where the building is powered by generators. sweet.

Other stuff and such and the likewise:

- My computer at work is like a small child that hates going to bed and does anything it can to delay sleep. It can sense 6 p.m. approaching and begins gradually slowing operations until it's nearly impossible to surf the internet. I think this officially makes wasting my time, a waste of my time.
If I want to leave at 6 p.m., I have to start shutting down about 4:30 p.m. if I'm lucky, the browser will be down by then.

- I'm going on the assumption that all of you know in case a traffic light is out, you treat this stop as a typical four-way stop. Many apparently do not know this. I might have called someone a bad name because of their lack of knowledge. I apologize. But SERIOUSLY, hit the gas MOFO.

- Will one of my friends in the financial industry let me know when I need to start putting my cash in a mattress? awesome.

- I'm tired of talking about Sarah Palin. or hearing about her. or hearing other people talk about her. Anybody remember John McCain? the guy actually running for prexie?

Blogless

2008-09-10T22:56:00.002-05:00

I got nuthin.

There are just a bunch of misfiring nerve endings in the brain lately.

I'm lucky to remember to put on my pants.

I'm 12

2008-09-02T20:59:00.001-05:00

I found this hysterical. Much thanks to the NASA guy.

and that, of course, led me to this...

And now for something

2008-09-01T21:39:00.005-05:00

completely different...

My longtime friend Tom and I are both considerable college football nuts. To that end, we decided to start our own podcast:

An 'Eye and an 'Eer" debuted last week before the season opener. If you like listening to two dudes talk for 30 minutes about college football - then this podcast is for you!

We're also in the process of starting a blog at www.aneyeandaneer.blogspot.com

Come check it out if you are at all interested.

Eighty Eight! Eighty Eight! Eighty Eighty Eighty Eighty Eighty Eight!

2008-08-26T00:21:00.005-05:00

It's a long, damn way from this

to this

(by the way, Liz White, pictured above with the author, looks pretty much the damn same. I would post more photos, but the Blackberry camera is not turning out to be worth a crap)

The pinnacle of the Carrollton High School Class of 1988 reunion came at that point where everyone's buzz was just starting to kick in, when we were all making the switch from cheap beer to cheap liquor and didn't even notice the haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air of the Vets Club, which has an almost blissful denial of the statewide smoking ban.

One of my classmates posed for a picture, lifted her top and flashed her new tits.

Ah, yes, CHS. My classy alma mater.

She saw our jaws drop and laughed at us. "Some people had kids last year, I had twins," she said, threw her head back and laughed again, blowing smoke into the ceiling tiles.

I'm pretty sure that's a bumper sticker.

I'll admit to being a bit nervous about the reunion. It had been 20 years since graduation and more than 15 years since I'd seen, well, just about anybody in our class. I have a friend here or there who I hear from occasionally, but most of them remain a mystery to me. It was a long process determining whether or not I would go. Sometime shortly after graduation I remember swearing I would never return. But the more I thought, the more it seemed like a silly pledge made up of hurt feelings that were nobody's fault in particular and the source of which I couldn't even remember any more. Why not go back? It's not like the place would grab me by the leg and not let me leave.

Should have known better. Small town is small town. It was like I never left. People just nodded and shook my hand. "Hey Phil. How's it going?" Like we had just seen each other last week at the store. That was followed with "You still live 'round here?" In Carrollton, you either live 'round here or not 'round here.

It was good to see most of my former classmates. And there were some I just didn't recall at all. I got about five people who swore I looked exactly the same and five more who said they didn't recognize me whatsoever. The dress ranged from jacket and tie to overalls and seed company ballcap.

People passed around pictures of their kids or introduced bored-looking spouses. I mostly drank. Jack and Coke for $2.50. those are the kinds of things I miss about Carrollton.

it was almost eerie how exactly the same we all were, which led me to wonder whether any of us had actually changed or whether we just all assumed our old roles when we got back together. Hell, if I know.

It was weird and comfortable and fun and terrifying. I always feel like I'm letting people down at those things because I don't have kids or a spouse and mostly I just stick to the smart-ass role instead of discussing anything actual or real. It's just easier that way.

Mostly we seemed like a happy group who were fairly comfortable with who we are and what we were doing. Or we're too busy to notice.

Jesus, this is starting to sound a Breakfast Club reunion script. I gotta cut it out.

Anyway, I wish more people had shown up. There are a lot of old friends out there it would have been nice to see. But I realize putting that thing together was no small task and getting people to come to such a thing is an even harder deal. Will I show up to 25? eh. who knows?

But I will say this: apparently the Class of '87 reunion was a hog roast at the Mechanicstown Fire Hall.

What a bunch of losers.

Super Diamond

2008-08-25T23:20:00.002-05:00

was, naturally, super.
The crowd was less so. it was the oddest concert I've been to in ways that are difficult to explain.

But still sweet.

yeah, I know, the reunion. I'm still trying to figure out what to say about it.

By popular demand...

2008-08-19T01:34:00.005-05:00

It's a big week.

I will be attending my 20th high school reunion in lovely Carrollton, Ohio. For those not familiar - click hereish.

- Ahole and Good Time Charley managed to drag themselves away from their brood of children for a rockin' night out at SuperDiamond. (Cowboy, if you're reading this, I am so, so sorry. I can't believe we're going to SD without you. It doesn't seem right.)

And football is on the horizon. I probably should start mixing the Jackorade right now.

Saturday I rode my bike downtown to the Santa Maria (photo above!) to what could be the Midwest's saddest tourist attraction.

Poor Christopher Columbus. If he had known all his hard work was going to pay off in a non-sailing ship parked in a gray Midwestern town, a half-assed holiday for bankers and postal workers, all the blame for the decimation of an indigenous people (hey, what about Vasco De Gama, assholes!?) and a serious case of syphillis - then the SOB would have just as likely stayed home.

this old thing

2008-08-11T01:29:00.002-05:00

Oh yeah, the blogging. almost forgot.

not much to report for August, but here's some notes:

- the drive-in movie theater remains a true piece of Americana and downright fun. Just one piece of advice for Columbusites going to the drive-in on South High - don't forget your gat - you know, just in case the shit gets real at the concession stand.
I kid. It wasn't that bad. but there were lots of guys with tattoos and without shirts.

- Movie reviews:
Batman - 12 1/2 stars.

Journey to the Center of the Earth - considerably fewer stars.

In Bruges - some stars. only movie I've ever liked with Colin Farrell.

There Will Be Blood - 100 stars or 0 stars depending on the scene. I don't know a lot about acting, but it seems this was Daniel Day-Lewis best work since The Last of the Mohicans when he was a white guy indian who was really fast. This movie is crazy and good and boring and awful and weird and amazing.

- Rocky - I wonder if you watched Rocky and Rambo simultaneously you would learn the secret to life. or as Stallone calls it - HGH.

Side note: I am still debating about whether to attend my 20th high school reunion. I would ask for a poll, but I know you would all vote for me to attend just so I would have something interesting to blog about.

Kids today...hmph

2008-07-30T00:24:00.003-05:00

Dear Kids in the red Subaru Forester who yelled at me as I was riding my bike,

Don't worry. I'm not mad that you yelled at me. I'm not going to track you down and complain to Mommy and Daddy about their meanie sons. I was a teenager once, too. In my youth and stupidity, I'm sure I yelled at somebody out of a car window too at some point.

And my ego's not bruised - fat guy on a bike is funny. I get it.

But, let's make this a "learning situation." As you passed me on Third Avenue, you yelled "Nice bike, Floyd Landis!"

Let's analyze:

- During a drive-by mocking, you want to go for instant impact. By the time I recalled exactly who the hell Floyd Landis is (Tour De France winner who tested positive for drugs), you were four blocks away. All you got from me was a look of confusion. Because of the speed of your car, you completely missed the delayed look of recognition as my inner monologue changed from "Who the fuck is Floyd Landis?" to "Oh, THAT Floyd Landis!"

CORRECT ANSWER: Because of the speed of the car and my obvious novice-like approach to riding a bicycle, Lance Armstrong is the obvious choice for an instant impact. I wasn't even aware you were mocking me until a good 20 seconds later. That's just an opportunity wasted.

OTHER POSSIBLES: Greg LeMond would be a decent possibility for instant impact. If you're trying to show off you cycling knowledge with an obscure name, then perhaps "Nice bike, Miguel Indurain!" or "Nice bike, Bernard Hinault!" would have been winners. While I would have remained confused, you could remain smug in the knowledge that you had sent the fat guy home to type in Bernard Hinault into Google. Victory comoplete.

Now, let's look at Part II:

"Nice bike, Floyd Landis!"
"Nice bike?" This one has me confused. You, gentleman, were obviously not prepared. This was just lazy. Was this a sarcastic jab at my bike? Because it's a pretty crappy bike and someone with any kind of bike knowledge would be openly sarcastic of the bike itself.
Perhaps you were mocking me for purchasing such a sad, cheap bicycle?
Or maybe "nice bike" was nothing but a lame lead-in to give you reason to toss out the Floyd Landis reference, to which I can only say, two wrongs do not equal a right. Instead of having a solid opener, to set up your finish, you used a throwaway line.

CORRECT ANSWER: There are several options, depending on your goal. Personally, I would have gone for "Live Strong, Lance!"

OTHER POSSIBLES: "Vites! Vites! Monsieur Armstrong!"
"There ain't enough EPO, dude!"
"I can hear that bike screaming from here!"

I don't want to crush your creativity. Everyone has their own style, but this was not a good effort. You're better than this. I can only hope for improvement.

GRADE: D.

Required reading

2008-07-19T01:20:00.006-05:00

Ahole's take on the NFL and gang signs...

From News of the Weird
We all get frustrated at work sometimes.

•Randall Popkes, 41, and his son Joshua Williams, 22, were arrested in West Des Moines, Iowa, in May and charged with an attempted safe cracking at the Des Moines Golf and Country Club. A security officer had noted their license plate as they sped away after a frustrating session in which they had cut into the safe but could not open it. In fact, they had left behind a note for management, according to the Des Moines Register: "(Expletive) you and your safe."

My favorite things in 1988 and 2008 come together on a Wednesday night:

The insane postings of the insomniac

2008-07-11T02:08:00.005-05:00

It's 3:07 a.m.

Don't tell my landlord, but I've acquired a pet - a pet moth. He came in off the street about a week ago and has been fluttering about my place ever since.

It's been an adjustment. He likes to play games. This morning I saw him on the kitchen counter where he appeared quite dead. As I moved towards him, he charged. I flailed wildly with my short, fatman arms as he sputtered around my head. i could hear his squealing moth laugh, mocking me.

I named him Rocky Raccoon, but not after the Beatles' song. Just cause.

Rocky thinks my insomnia bouts are hilarious. Tonight, just as I was dozing off he found his way into the Death Valley of the airborne bug world - the windowsill. He was trapped between blind and window, crashing back and forth, causing quite a racket. I flipped on the light and inched towards the window. Rocky slipped between the blinds and gleefully charged once again.

"SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled, my arms swinging in all directions simultaneously. I think I even threw a punch. At a moth.

Rocky couldn't resist. He headed directly into my bedroom lamp. I snickered and waited for the frying sounds. Unfortunately I bought the eco-friendly light bulbs. They last for 10 years and save the earth, but they can't fry a goddamn moth.

Finally Rocky wandered out into the hall. I shut the door and turned off the lamp.

"Screw you, Rocky! You're sleeping in the hallway tonight!"

Bastard's probably laying eggs behind my refrigerator.

Whiny rant (warning - possibly, err.. probably offensive language)

2008-07-10T23:57:00.009-05:00

Okay, what the fuck is up with this little fake world here on the internets? I don't mean that in a rhetorical way, I mean - let me explain:

I have a facebook profile. (This is by far the most humiliating thing I will ever admit on this blog.) Now, I don't pay much attention to the facebook except for playing Scrabulous with my friend Karen. But every other day some some well-meaning friend sends me some kind of "e-gift." So I get a little email that says "Jacky Jackoff sent you a bowl of rose petals." or "Johnny Jehosephat gave you an apple!"

Occasionally I will visit some manly, sporting message boards where we discuss football, basketball and testosterone, then thump our chests and compare the size of our genitalia. And on special occasions, one of these macho computer geeks will fess up to having typed something stupid and say "Buy a round on me!" and these other fucking morons will list what kind of beer they'd like for their free round.

Guess what?

THERE'S NO ROSE PETALS, THERE'S NO APPLE AND THERE'S NO FUCKING BEER.

Sending electronic, IMAGINARY versions of these things is beyond bleeping stupid. What they're really saying is "Somebody else sent me this stupid-ass thing so now I'm sending it to you because it gives the appearance of me giving a shit about you when actually I just sent it to everyone of my 8,563 "friends" most of whom I have never met and would rather stick a knife in my ear than have a personal conversation with."

Ordering a fake beer on a message board is some kind of lame-ass, bizarre right of psuedo-manly bullshit passage meant to virtually bond one loser with other bored losers who are probably looking at Japanese porn on their other browser window while offering up such nuanced sports analysis as "Ohio State is going to kick USC's ass!"

So this is what we are. A nation of people giving make-believe gifts and ordering imagingary beers at imaginary bars. Beautiful. what in the sam hell is wrong with us? I suppose there is some social scientist's thesis covering this sort of thing describing the lack of social intimacy among the technology age... but you know what? Fuck that. It's just retarded. (Sorry. I know that's an evil word among some of you.) but seriously, it's just fucking retarded.

I do not mean to disparage those friends who have sent me some imaginary gift. I'm sure you meant no offense. I apologize. I suppose this whole post makes me a rude SOB. Shut up. People are idiots and this is my second straight night of insomnia.

Good stuff

2008-07-05T16:30:00.003-05:00

So here's the promised vacation photos. To follow along, start to finish, scroll down to the first post. It doesn't really matter that much, but some of you are sticklers.

If you'd like to see the rest of my photos, just click here.

Zion National Park

2008-07-05T16:10:00.004-05:00

Zion is a lot like Bryce Canyon - it's beautiful, popular and pricey. It was $25 just to drive through it. And there's a lot of development on the one side. But it does have a cool switchback road through the middle with a couple neat tunnels through the side of the mountains. Just don't expect to go over 25 mph.

Salt Lake City

2008-07-05T16:02:00.004-05:00

As you could tell by the earlier photo, the view off the Cowboy's deck was pretty sweet. During our tour I discovered Salt Lake City was home to more than just the fertilized eggs of Mormon women. There were hippies and Kosta Koufos and Joe Freakin' Germaine!

But most of all was the greatest biscuit in the history of the world at Ruth's Diner. I am not exaggerating about its greatness.

What do you do on a Saturday night in the SLC? Roller Derby! Good stuff, featuring Dirty Pirate Hooker (great name!)

And what's on at halftime of the roller derby? Pole dancing, of course!

Capitol Reef

2008-07-05T10:35:00.003-05:00

Capitol Reef was at the end of Route 12, near Torrey, Utah. More very cool scenery including a scenic drive through "Grand Wash." I felt like I was in the first Indiana Jones (not the latest piece of crap) following the Germans and the Ark.

The Hogback

2008-07-05T10:27:00.005-05:00

The Hogback refers to about 12 miles of road along the top of a mountain with remarkable views off either side. the first photo was taken from the top of Boulder Mountain. It includes a view which, according to the sign, is the size of Connecticut. The second shot is of a forest fire along the way.

Unfortunately, I did not have the guts to make the Caliber take the "Scenic Backway" known as Hell's Backbone. I just wanted to say I had driven it. But I didn't think the Caliber could take the pounding.

Calf Creek Canyon

2008-07-05T10:19:00.002-05:00

I hiked three miles to get to these falls on what was labeled an "easy" hike. Right. Easy for people who are in good physical condition and take enough water with them. I made it back. That's all I'll say about it.

Pretty cool. The other shot is of the canyons you hike through to get back to the falls.

Devil's Garden - Erosion is Awesome

2008-07-05T00:15:00.005-05:00

Devil's Garden is located about 16 miles down a dirt road on the way to a place called Hole-In-The-Wall. It was probably the coolest thing on the trip. You can't even see it from the road, but suddenly you take a right turn, head down into a small valley and there's this collection of phenomenal giant rocks.

Two things made it great - it was free and there was nobody there. Just this lonely spot off by itself. This was the kind of stuff I traveled across country to see. I would highly recommend it if you're ever in Escalante, Utah. And it was a little spooky.

Okay, I wasn't completely alone. There were dozens of these little lizards flitting around. It did occur to me if they all turned on me they could probably gnaw off a foot before I could get back to my car.

And there were cattle on the road.

Kodachrome Basin

2008-07-04T23:39:00.002-05:00

Kodachrome Basin was one of my favorite places along Route 12. It's probably not as photogenic as a couple other spots, but it's out in the middle of nowhere and there was hardly anybody else there. It was there that my opinion on the Earth (capital E) was confirmed. The Earth does not give a crap about us. When you're standing next to rocks that have been around for 20 million years, it becomes clear that we are tiny, tiny blips on the Earth's radar. This wasn't connecting to nature. It was pure intimidation on nature's part.

Greenies who sit around talking about "Save the Earth" have seriously misplaced sentiment. "Save the Humans" is a much more apt description. The Earth will be here long after we're gone. It is a completely apathetic witness to global warming, nuclear war or pollution. As far as the Earth is concerned, we're just smaller, warmer dinosaurs with opposable thumbs.

Also, I'd like to add that those trees in the above photo looked like they came out of a Tim Burton movie. But without Johnny Depp.

Bryce Canyon

2008-07-04T23:31:00.002-05:00

This was where the Japanese joined in the foreign invasion. Bryce Canyon is pretty, dramatic and some serious natural eye candy. It's also expensive ($12 per person to ride the shuttle and $25 per vehicle with another per person charge) and crowded with people. There were huffing teenagers, giggling Germans and one small boy who was beating the shit out of his sister with a newly-purchased walking stick.

Probably the most interesting part of Bryce Canyon is that there are many paths to walk down into the canyons. As you can see by the second photo you can take a path all the way to the bottom. I made it about halfway down before I became nervous that I wouldn't make it back up.

Red Canyon

2008-07-04T23:24:00.002-05:00

This was the first stop along Scenic Route 12 and was where I camped out the first night. I do have a picture of the tent if anyone needs proof. I made friends with a snake or something that was very interested in my body heat.

It was pretty easy to walk around a bit of the canyon. And then there was a busload of Russians. Hmmmm....

Lake Powell

2008-07-04T22:42:00.003-05:00

Lake Powell was where I first became aware that Southern Utah and Northern Arizona have been invaded by Europeans. We may be at war. France, Germany and Italy have flooded our Southwest with old people to drain our natural resources and form a staging area for the rest of the invasion. Clever bastards.

While at Lake Powell, I went on a three-hour tour. It was about two hours too long, but still nice. The dam was very cool. Second-biggest in America after Hoover Dam. And I saw a $4 million houseboat. Our boat captain was very excited about this. Personally, I think spending a penny more than $3 million for a houseboat is just wasteful.

The Dodge Caliber: Buy Foreign

2008-07-04T22:33:00.003-05:00

This was my rental car, or rather "mini-SUV." A lot of people would call it a station wagon. These people would not work for Dodge.

A lot of people would call the car a huge hunk of crap. I would be one of them. Stylewise, it reminded me, inside and out, a lot of this vehicle:

The Caliber was great as long as it was going downhill. Up the hill was another matter.

There were two great options on the Caliber though - a auxillary input for my Ipod and the armrest in the middle folded out and actually had a holder for the Ipod. This was crucial considering the state of Utah radio.

Hotter than Jesus' feet

2008-07-04T22:00:00.009-05:00

Not April in Paris, I'm talkin bout June in Phoenix.

It was a balmy 115 degrees when I touched down. I saw a small child whose Crocs had melted him in place.

Regardless, or irregardlessly, my visit with Betsy and Chris was still a good time. We ate and ate and then ate some more. We hit all the major food groups - Mexican, Chinese and pizza. Oh, and a breakfast place called U.S. Egg. That was good, too. Did I mention Betsy is five months pregnant and very hungry? Hungry and angry. Those are the words that can best describe pregnant women.

When I wasn't driving around aimlessly trying to find an REI that would rent me some crap, we did manage one cool activity - a visit to Talesin West - home to a Frank Lloyd Wright school of architecture. While not as cool as Falling Water, it was still very interesting.

Home, uh, home

2008-06-30T23:21:00.007-05:00

I'm back. Vacation was excellent. i'm trying to figure out how to get all the pics downloaded and then you can all be bored out of your skull by a vacation slideshow of many really large rocks.

I would tell you it was a life-changing event, connecting with nature, etc., blah, blah, blah and it would be partially true. But mostly nature just scared the living shit out of me.

The top photo is of Calf Creek Canyon, where I attempted to kill myself with heat stroke during a six-mile hike. Still, it's pretty.

The second is the view off the deck of The Cowboy's mountain retreat outside Salt Lake City. The great Salt Lake is dead ahead. Good stuff.

And some book recommendations:

Imperial Life in the Emerald City is a few years old, but if you want an amazing blow-by-blow read on exactly how the US screwed up post-war Iraq - it is an excellent choice.

Seymour Hersh's Chain of Command is also excellent and really an amazing look into how not to fight a war on the cheap...

And, of course, David Sedaris is funny.

Vacation, MoFos!

2008-06-19T19:41:00.003-05:00

10 straight days of pure, unadulterated not working.

First, I fly straight to the surface of the sun where I stay with my favorite preggo friend and her NASA-working hubby.

From there, I head north to the land of Jesus and his Late-Afternoon Saints and dinosaurs.

Oh, and I'll be camping.

Let that sink in.

Yes, camping along this - voted by me as one of the top 8 roads I will have driven on by the end of June.

Then it's off the mountain-top retreat of The Cowboy in a secret compound near the SLC.

I may come back.
Or I may move into the woods, hunt ba'ar with a Leatherman tool and never come back. It's a coin toss, really.

Weird, creepy or perfectly natural

2008-06-14T16:21:00.002-05:00

that i want one of these. (Please watch for one of TV's great advertisements.)

Knock on Wood

2008-06-14T15:27:00.002-05:00

Today was miraculous.

I walked 2 1/2 miles with a little jogging thrown in - and my feet don't hurt that much.

This may not seem like much to you normal humans, but to me this is miracle on par with the raising of Lazarus and the McRib sandwich. I haven't walked/run without massive heel pain in two years.

A very large needle was injected into my insole a couple days ago and my foot is drugged up beyond belief. I'm just hoping it stays that way, but I'm not holding my breath. This stuff will probably wear off.

but for now, God bless you, major pharmaceutical companies and the twisted, warped system you have developed with our nation's doctors. Including mine, who was heading off to Muirfield Village to enjoy his $50,000 yearly membership.

Complaint Department

2008-06-04T23:47:00.007-05:00

- People who slow down after visually identifying a police officer who already has someone pulled over. This officer cannot arrest you. He or she is busy issuing a ticket to the other jackhole they just pulled over. Also, you were going 63, jackass. Slamming on the brakes is anticlimactic when you already under the legal speed limit.

- Hillary Clinton.

- Reds television announcer George Grande or as I like to call him "Senor Seque"

"It's a great day here at the ballpark. Hey, you know what else is great? Jay Bruce, Reds rookie outfielder! You know who else is Bruce? Bruce Springsteen! He sings so well. And you know what sings? The grating sound of my awful cliche-filled seque-addicted voice! Addicted? Just like former Reds outfield Josh Hamilton! And of course, Hamilton, Ohio is the home of former Reds pitcher and announcer Joe Nuxhall! They'll never be another one like Nuxy! You know who else they'll never be another one like? Anyone ever. We're all delicate ego-driven individuals, a random combination of Deoxyribonucleic acid formed into strands capable of tremendous love or horrific violence, drug-like joy or mind-numbing depression, none quite like the other, just like snowflakes! Speaking of mind-numbing depression, how about those Reds fans? You know what Reds fans love? JTM hamburgers, right off the grill!"

- Steve Martin's career after 1990.

- People who go to Subway and order for 18 coworkers/family members. This is fine at any drive-thru. It's not difficult to say I need 12 #4s, 6 #7s and 18 diet cokes. At Subway, this is a whole other matter - and if you come in with the back of an envelope covered in scribble - you're the asshole. "And I need a 6-inch turkey, toasted with
American, no provolone ... um, what do you think that says? And everything except onions and banana peppers and put cauliflower on it. Wait, do you have cauliflower? dammit, it says cauliflower right here. Hold on, I'll just call Sheila right now. " No. there's no fucking calling to confirm an order of a goddam six-inch sub. Sheila will fucking get over not having cauliflower.

I decree it. There'a limit - two subs per person, dickwad.

- (Addendum) If, by chance, you are back at the office and a coworker offers to go to Subway and buy subs for all 18 of you and your coworkers and then asks you what you want - you are FORBIDDEN to utter the phrase "Um, what kind of subs do they have?" or "Do you have a menu?"

GODDAM IT, PEOPLE. IT'S SUBWAY. IT'S BREAD. IT'S MEAT. IT'S THE SAME OTHER SHIT AT EVERY PLACE EVER. JUST SAY 'ITALIAN' . ALL PLACES HAVE THE FUCKING ITALIAN.

He's coming for you next

2008-06-01T15:47:00.007-05:00

this is Owen. he is 1. Beware the cute. He ate half of my toe before he was distracted by a colorful truck. i didn't want to say anything. It was HIS birthday party after all.

If you are one of the few who don't know - you must watch all the way to the end to understand the psychosis that will be lumped upon this poor child. Much the way our parents did it to us.

Other notes:
- Google makes all arguments more fun. or less fun. I'm not sure.

- Some people doubt the sincerity of my love for Mrs. Wexner. She will be mine. He cannot live forever. Well, maybe he can. Kind of like Walt Disney.

- The Piela plan for world domination is in full bloom. One day soon we will all be named Piela, know someone named Piela or work for someone name Piela. It's just a statistical fact. There are that many of them.

Notes on a lost weekend

2008-05-26T22:08:00.002-05:00

- I bought some shoes. It turns out after a 21-year hiatus boat shoes are back in style. If only I still had my sweet gray ones. Used to wear them to school without socks. My feet really stunk. That may have been a poor decision. But then the 80s were filled with them.

- Old, old, old. I had to pass up Doc Martens to buy Dr. Scholls.

- I bought my Dad a cell phone for his birthday. I'll give him a month to figure out how to turn it on.

- Two hours of blackjack netted me $120. woo hoo. the down side was the table full of drunk old women I had to sit with. They did a wave every time the dealer busted. But that wasn't nearly as bad as the other guy at table who cost us all about $30 by hitting when it wasn't necessary and his card would have busted the dealer.

- made a trip to the hometown and saw an old friend. Good luck in Ireland Heather! (exclamation point is not optional)

Needles and Pins - and not The Ramones version

2008-05-26T21:53:00.002-05:00

I'm trying acupuncture for my feet. It seems relatively harmless except for the irreparable damage it's doing to my wallet. A lot of it requires 30 minutes of lying on a table with the lights turned down and soothing music playing. This is right up my alley, although it remains unclear what my feet think of the music. So far, their response has been tepid. nothing is feeling too different.

My doc told me to stretch (heard it), wear some arch support straps he was kind enough to sell me at %400 markup and throw out my $400 orthotics. Not sure what to make of that one. My feet kind of revolted. They'd gotten use to the extra support.

So, I guess the point of this was... we'll see.

Suck, Suck, Suck, AWESOME or

2008-05-13T20:04:00.002-05:00

what I like to call the Genius of Redemption

1. George Foreman.

A) Many blows to head
B) Boxed till he was way too old
C) Named many of his children George
D) INVENTED GEORGE FOREMAN GRILL

2. Steve Jobs

A) Got suckered by Bill Gates
B) wears mock turtlenecks, probably with sportcoat
C) pricing of any Apple computer
D) PAID PEOPLE TO INVENT IPOD

3. Al Gore

A) wife hated Twisted Sister, Ratt and other awesome groups
B) lost presidency to mildly retarded Texan
C) enjoys scaring shit out of people while winning Nobel Prize
D) INVENTED INTERNET (AND CONSEQUENTLY INTERNET PORN. SUCK IT, TIPPER)

4. Eddie Van Halen
A) OU812
B) For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge
C) the guy from Extreme
D) UNCHAINED

Just plain genius:
- whoever invented 90-second rice
- Marc Dann (for making state politics remotely interesting)
- High-definition everything inventor
- Southwest Airlines
- Tina Fey and her glasses

You probably suck

2008-05-10T00:43:00.004-05:00

especially if you're under the age of 25.

I'm kidding, of course. There are no qualifiers. You absolutely do suck. And you're an asshole. It's not your fault. We were all assholes then.

Somehow, tonight, in the rarest of moves, I was out with Aholeonapc and her life partner. We ended up at what we hoped was a hole-in-the-wall bar hosting some crappy karaoke.

That was true at 9:30. By 10:30 it was chock full of barely 20-somethings and even crappier karaoke.

I was horrified by the behavior. Young folks are much more comfortable with their sexuality and their stupidity, especially their stupidity, then I ever was. There is a shocking lack of low self esteem out there. These kids are quite convinced of their greatness. I know Mommy and Daddy told you you were so very, very special. You are not.

Aholeonapc was at the other end of the spectrum.
"I love watching young people," she said. "It's like watching people take a test I already took."

I had no such nostalgia. These people were stomping on my youth.

See, each song that was being sung by these ... children ... was from the 80s or even the 70s. And they were all belting out the lyrics by heart as if they knew what these songs meant. They have no freaking idea.

During a quintet screaming Journey's ballad "Faithfully" it occurred to me that these punks that these songs were funny, kitsch and ironic. They giggled at Steve Perry's horrifically cheesy and mournful lyrics "They say that the road ain't no place to raise a family. And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be."

that makes me think of seventh grade dances and parachute pants.

When somebody ironically belted out "Ice, Ice, Baby" I thought of my old college roommate who would play this every, single, freaking night as he did pushups.

These punks didn't live it. I did.

so very old. and happy to be that way. See, what this crowd doesn't understand about the 80s is that every single day, whether it was a mullet or skinny ties or poofy hair or not wearing socks with our boat shoes - we put ourselves OUT there. Every day you walked outside in the 80s, you were on the edge of being cool or being mocked as a jackass. Every, single day was a gamble. And now we're ironic cheese? Fuck off, you punks.

Other notes:

- there are a shocking number of young men who are not aware that they are homosexuals. I say this without judgment. It's simply an observable fact. It may be my future mission in life to point this out to them so they can get on with their lives and not disappoint young ladies.

- It's one thing to be a good singer and do karaoke, although it may slightly defeat the purpose. It's another thing to do a duet. It is quite another to be a talented singing duet, who obviously have practiced the songs you're performing together to the point where you actually switch parts while singing "Under the Boardwalk." It reeks of high school show choir.

- Some guy named Randy Razor (of course that's his real name!) rocks.

-And for God's sakes ladies, eat a fucking hamburger. Jesus, you people are disturbingly skinny. I'm doing my part for morbid obesity. I could use some company.

EDITOR'S NOTE: I apologize a little bit for this post as I was a few beers in and feeling cranky last night. But still, you're all assholes.

The blogging

2008-05-06T20:55:00.002-05:00

has not been going so well. I know, I know.

- I Gallery Hopped. That consists of walking down the street with 10 million other people and listen to young 20-something girls have conversations that go "Oh my God, can you believe it? She was such a slut like when we were sophomores but, how much money should I get out Can you believe that thing ate my card he is so cute oh fuck we were so drunk."

- Which was similar to the 20-something male conversation I overheard at Char Bar a few weeks earlier "But dude, she's smokin hot! Yeah, smokin hot. Do you have weed? I've got weed. She's hot. So hot."

- Far be it from me to be too rough on the 20-somethings. It's the same as listening to the thirtysomethings talk about offspring and mortgages.

- I would like to thank the Cincinnati Reds offense for freeing up the rest of my summer.

- I am so bored I am watching NBA basketball.

- I highly recommend the Short North version of Marcella's. The Polaris version was not nearly as good.

- The same night I ended up at Gaswerks. It was hell on earth.

- That's all I'm prepared to share for now.

Greatest Song Title Ever

2008-04-18T23:39:00.004-05:00

After much deliberation, mostly in my own head, I've decided the greatest song title in the history of rock n roll is.....

"Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" by Journey

Think you've got a better title? Go ahead, try it.

here are the rules:
- Must be unintentionally hilarious (So, Jimmy Buffet's Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw wouldn't really count.)
- Must be a rock n roll song
- any other rule I deem necessary

For the uninitiated, see below. Be sure to check out Steve Perry's sweet leather pants, Neil Schon's kickin' afro and Father Guido Sarducci on drums.

Downtown Columbus, who knew?

2008-04-18T23:17:00.005-05:00

A few weeks ago I ventured downtown with the Princess (again, no link is necessary) and we caught the Columbus Jazz Orchestra.
Wow, are they good. And wow, is the Southern Theatre in lovely downtown Columbus a fantastic place to see a show. Unreal acoustics.

It was a tremendous show featuring music by The Count, The Duke and Benny Goodman. Right in my wheelhouse. One of the special guests was the above, Mr. Peter Appleyard. He played vibraphone and played it well. And then during Sweet Georgia Brown he played vibraphone, piano and drum set.

did I mention he's 80?

for proof, here's pretty much the same show but with way worse acoustics. Fast forward to the 5-minute mark to see all the solo stuff.

Since the night featured music straight from the big band era, the crowd age probably skewed well above normal. There was a lot of gray hair in them thar seats. But, it turned out to be awesome. These old folks were JAMMING.
There's nothing quite so cool as to see as gray hair bobbing up and down along with their favorite tune or hearing the 75-year old man down the row let out a "Yeah!" or "Whoo!" during a tune and on the verge of getting up and dancing up and down the aisles. Hell yeah, they're the greatest generation. You think we're going to get the Lollapalooza reunion tour when we're 80? We suck and we don't even know how much we suck yet.

I found out in the program that my company is one of CJO's major backers and gives at least $50K to the group. It's money well spent. We should give more. Although it makes me wonder why I can't get better, freer tickets. dammit.

Anyway, I know jazz, in any form, isn't everybody's thing - but you should check out a show. They do a variety of styles and they're damn good.

Culture up, jackholes.

How in Holy Hades

2008-04-18T22:49:00.006-05:00

was this not the most important story in the state of Ohio so far this year?

For those too lazy to click, here's the gist:

"SPRINGFIELD — South High School assistant principal Karl Perkins has been placed on administrative leave after school officials learned he was the author of some erotic poetry for sale on a Web site.

Springfield City Schools officials are investigating the incident after a student downloaded a book of poems written by Antonio Love, Perkins' pseudonym."

Why can't a man write down his sexy thoughts in a sexy rhyme for the sexy people to read? What are the public schools coming to?

and for the interested, this is the only description I could find of Antonio Love's work.

Love Songs and Sex Versus: The Club, the Hotel, and the Relationship

Ahem, Smith-Richards, if you're out there, I do not recall seeing this story with your byline and a rotten apple. Hop to it, perverted teacher beat writer.

I would like to add that the Springfield City Schools school board president's last name is Picklesmeier. That's a funny name.

Punks, Inc.

2008-04-15T19:56:00.006-05:00

During my venture to Indiana, I became briefly immersed in the world of CYO sports. I saw a nail-biting sixth grade girls basketball game and heard a grown woman I've known for 20 years utter the phrase "Oh my God, Kristen is totally going to hug Jacob in front of everyone if they win!", a father-son hockey game and a U9 girls basketball game.

I learned how to say "I have a party in my pants" in Spanish from an 11-year old, saw the future of women's basketball with a sweet-shooting lefty and witnessed the worst hockey shift in the history of the world by a man still under 40.

it was darned fun. stupid kids.

Especially for the Cowboy

2008-04-15T19:44:00.005-05:00

Back in the early 90s, my friends got flattops. Being as we were in the same group with matching pants and hats and stuff, I got one too.

Mine, didn't go so well, as The Cowboy will attest. It was too high. It was like some kind of rock formation of finely cropped hair. The Cowboy used to call it the "Steve Timmons."

Now, a few weeks ago I traveled to Indianapolis to see some Big Ten Tournament action (ZZZZZ, no it was exciting, really) and that's when I spotted this haircut in front of me:

Was it a Timmons sighting? Is he secretly a Minnesota basketball fan? Why did that obnoxious lady Indiana fan not offer me the empty seat next to her when I was sitting in the aisle? I don't know. I do know it was the greatest flattop I have ever seen. And I have no doubt the power of the flattop led to this:

Blogging and everything

2008-04-15T19:42:00.003-05:00

Only a month went by with nary a word as my G4 Powerbook sat in a shop somewhere, strangers groping its hard drive in inappropriate ways.

Turns out the hard drive was fine. It was the RAM I added - slightly defective. So, I'm back. Slower, but back.

There's been a lot to blog about over the last month. I will try to get everyone caught ASAP.

O, Technology

2008-03-12T20:05:00.002-05:00

why hast thou forsaken me?

Cell phone turns off whenever it gets the notion.

Computer randomly shutting down anything internet related.

Had to reboot my cable twice. (Son of a...)

WWJLLIHWAT?

2008-03-09T23:11:00.005-05:00

You'd think spending the weekend practicing for my future life as a shut-in thanks to 20 inches of snow would lead to lots of good blogging.

And then again...

I was busy, ok? It ain't easy trying to survive the white death of '08.

The only thing I got was the remnants of a conversation with a co-worker about what Jesus would look like today if he were around.

After much deliberation and a plenty of alone time, I came up with - Steve Jobs. Sharp haircut, intentionally, slighly sloppily trimmed beard, black mock turtleneck and rimless glasses. (for effect, I'm not suggesting Jesus needs glasses.)

And instead of things like the Sermon on the Mount, we'd get lots of emailed Power Point presentations.

Page 1
Blessed ARE!

Page 2

The Peacemakers:
- Those who make peace
- Those who do not make violence
- All those who follow in a simliar vein

Page 3
The Meek:
- Humble
- Pleasant
- Not killing others
- generally meekish

Addendum, pt. 1 - 'will inherit earth'

Anyway, that's where I was going with that, but honestly it's just not turning out how I'd hoped.

I spent most of the storm of the century going through old photos. Many of you who read this blog are very, very lucky I don't own a scanner.

Many of you:
A) had hair
B) were skinny
C) had hair

Okay, mostly it's me who's lucky i don't own a scanner. But for those of you checking there are photos from Tucson, Pasadena, New Orleans, New York, Tahoe, Cincinnati, OSUMB, Pittsburgh and Marietta.

a motley crew.

Freedom!

2008-03-02T18:20:00.002-05:00

or so sayeth Mel Gibson, simultaneously in Braveheart and The Patriot, which are currently on dueling Cinemax stations. (I have a lot of channels - and yes, The Patriot, again, I know.)

Today is a good day, friends.

The Snoratron 3000 sleeps alone.
No more Shirtless Sauerkraut, no more Deep Fried Everything, no more Pavlov's Bathroom Hockfest, no more Volume Control for the Hearing Impaired.

I know this makes no sense to many of you.

Translation - Shit's good. My soul is relocated if my body ain't.

On a side note, if at any time in the future you need to move apartments - if you have the option of moving up a floor, I give it a hearty thumbs up. Easy as pie. My back will probably recover in three or four days.

Addendum: Mucho thanks to Good Time Charley and Ahole for their help in my move and letting me store all that crap in their basement. You probably won't need that new house with all the space I freed up.
Also, for the first time, um, probably ever, I moved without the help of The Cowboy, who continues his mountain-top exile in Utah. You were missed. Especially your large manly arms and exceptional lower-back strength.

Video provided

2008-02-25T00:49:00.002-05:00

I saw the U23D movie Saturday. Even as i'm not the world's biggest U2 fan (I went with the world's biggest U2 fan) the 3D made it very cool. If you like the U2 check it out, if you don't, then you'll probably be bored stiff once the 3D magic wears off on you.

U2's genius, for me, will always be The Edge. For as silly as it is to call a grown man "The Edge", the guy writes great guitar parts and has an uncanny knack on his backing vocals.

I wonder if Bono got a regular haircut and didn't wear those sunglasses all the time if anyone would recognize him.

My only complaint was the guy three seats down from me who was singing along. To review - singing along at a concert is acceptable; singing along at a movie of a concert is unacceptable.