Bonus Coverage

Nothing to see here - move along

2011-02-12T16:05:00.004-05:00

Blogging about your blog is banal.

...but it has come to this.

This blog reminds me of the big mall built in the 1970s that now is empty except for the off-brand wireless kiosk, a sneaker store, and a Kay Jewelers. Hello hello hello

I haven't posted since December, 2010. No one comes to my mall because there are no stores. But once I was slapping up posts at least 3x per week. Ah, the glory days. I cared little if I had readers or not. I had posts, thus I had visitors. There was something here to see. Then came Twitter. I was able to speak my piece for the day in about 5 or 6 tweets. Efficient. Less tax on potential audience. The therapeutic value of keeping a journal wasn't lost. The blog slowly sank into disrepair.

I still need a reason to keep my writing skills from eroding. I'm getting so sloppy from using text, terse e-mails, and tweets, that I need to start blogging again. Really. Even if just once per week. I think it will be Thursdays. Say tuned.

Flitting

2010-12-10T22:57:00.008-05:00

Too many pies; not enough fingers.

I have so many interests I cannot do them all justice. Recently added are a fascination with Nikola Tesla and Dungeons and Dragons. Add these to board games, biographies, military history, politics, music, basketball, poker, film noir, Twitter... Oh, and life.

Nice problem to have, I'll admit. Reminds me of the movie, Amadeus, when Mozart liked so many wigs in the shop that he wished he had three heads.

Wonder Drug

2010-12-01T21:07:00.003-05:00

Let's just say that there was a drug that made whoever took it feel absolutely fabulous. It would have no adverse side-effects It would be non-addictive. It might actually increase human productivity and spark creativity. It could be manufactured and used in an environmentally safe fashion. Yes. What if?

Alas, there is no such substance, although some do come close and all are illegal or at least restricted in their distribution. My wonder drug would be banished immediately.

Just musing about all this while sucking back some whiskey. Fattening whisky. Possibly addictive whiskey. Hangover inducing whiskey. Liver killing whiskey. Function impairing whiskey.

This is damn good tasting scotch and it warms the tummy and the mind, but I'd rather reach for my wonder drug and experience a perfectly safe euphoria.

Someone needs to get to work on this.

I didn't win anything...

2010-11-30T17:44:00.008-05:00

... so why should I be happy for you?

Not, YOU, but people on TV game shows who compete for cash and prizes. Case in point is the World Series of Poker.

While I was was grinding away in my local poker room, the WSOP was being shown on ESPN. Players are being knocked out of the tournament and still leaving with 90K. The winner of this massive tournament gets something like 8 million bucks. Some of my fellow players are actually cheering for particular WSOP contestants. Not me. I'm cheering for me at the real game at hand. I want that $50 pot! Some putz that I don't even know wins big and I'm supposed to be excited? I don't expect to be given a taste of the jackpot. I don't care.

On shows like Wheel of Fortune (a.k.a. Wheel of Noise), which I inadvertently watch when forgetting to switch the channel after the local news or tune in early for Jeopardy, I actually love to see people screw up or make a bad spin. I'm cruel that way. The show is taped, so no mojo, karma, jinx, hex or curse sent out by me will have a bearing on the outcome. With the IRS taking a chunk of any winnings on game shows, hoping everyone loses is an outlet for any anarchist leanings within my political conscience.

I am happy for those who successfully completed NaBloPoMo in which I fell short of the post-a-day in November goal. I think this post makes it 28/30 for me. Congratulations to all who meet challenges when no significant monetary gain is to be had.

Danger Lurks

2010-11-29T00:04:00.004-05:00

We get this letter from some guy in the sub division who claims he was beaten by two Black (possibly gang members) youths who knocked on his door, forced their way inside, and then started hammering on him. They broke off from the attack, jumped in a waiting car then drove off.

The victim was obviously and understandably upset and sending this letter to all his neighbors probably helped him get past the incident. I don't think he has an agenda, but his sending a notice around has some folks lathered up beyond reason. The letter ends with an all-caps warning not to open your door at night and to take any legal means to protect yourself. I'm calling this irresponsible. It's not his call to put out an APB for two average looking black kids. Just hinting at 2nd amendment solutions to the problem is dangerous. Besides, anyone who has lived in an urban area for any length of time knows not to answer the door for strangers. That's what the little peep hole is for. See who is out there. If you see no reason to open the door, a simple and stern, "Who are you, and what do you want?" will usually suffice.

The letter was printed in MS Comic Sans. A crime in itself if you ask me.

I have no big finish here. Just saying I think the guy could have handled it better.

The Knife Show

2010-11-27T23:09:00.005-05:00

If you stay up until 5:00 you might just catch The Knife Show on one of cable's many channels. I tuned in thanks to the good people at ION who continue to offer top-flight entertainment.

The show is impressive. You get to see hundreds of knives in varieties that bewilder the mind of this layman. One bundle offered has 100 knives plus three fancy-looking swords for a mere $100. Two nights ago a free ceramic knife was thrown in and last night you got a complimentary sling blade with your order (The one Carl calls it a kaiser blade.) The guy hawking these knives (Tom O'Dell) sells his ass off. Who for example, is even thinking of buying knives right before dawn breaks, let alone loading up with 100 items? Yet I'm transfixed. I stop short of picking up the phone knowing that I may be facing mammoth shipping charges or some other financial catch that might max out my credit card. Then I snap out of it and realize that only a knife thrower, or perhaps someone who regularly has larger crowds over to debone fish and eat tough steak would require 100 blades.

The Knife Show does sell smaller bundles of knives and an occasional big ticket item that goes for maybe 75% off. The script calls for the deal to get sweeter and sweeter until the timer counts down to when the deal expires. It's intense. You have to hold, hold, hold, until you think that the final offer is made, then hope your call gets through in time.

I have pictured one of the product sets. I am not sure if this particular type of knife has an utilitarian function. I remarked on Twitter that it might include the only tool on the planet capable of cleaning a coelacanth.

Regardless, props to Tom O'Dell of Cutlery Corner and his continuing effort to educate, entertain, and supply knives to people of the night.

Ka-Pow!

2010-11-27T00:41:00.011-05:00

I Usually put together a couple of lists during the year as do many real journalists who are desperate to meet a deadline.

http://trmink.blogspot.com/2009/05/punching.html gained a little bit of popularity and for a few months it became a weekly feature on this oft renamed, reinvented, and periodically idle blog space.* So here's an updated list of those who currently require a virtual right hook.

The Glenn Beck** List of People I'd Like to Punch in The Face

1. Mike Tirico is the worst announcer evah! He works ESPN's second-rate Monday night football broadcast, when everyone knows Sunday Night Football is the true game of the week. Tirico doesn't know dick about football. Particularly annoying when he says that "3rd down is coming up" when it IS, in fact, 3rd down. I've e-mailed him about this and he keeps doing it.

2. Bret Favre needs to get his tired media-hogging, interception-throwing, team-ruining , old ass off the field.

3. Michael Kors is a bitch. He's mean for the sake of mean. Mondo should have won project Runway and not that prima donna, Gretchen.

4. Sarah Palin represents all the Tea Party flavored politicos. I don't have the time or edurance to collapse the face of every ignorant sonofabitch that "wants their country back."

5. Mitch McConnell and his 40 obstructionist fellow GOP thugs that would rather see the country go in the toilet than let any Obama-backed legislation pass.

6. Nancy Grace brings more drama than I can take. Her voice grates on me like someone sharpening their teeth on an emery board

7. Brad Paisley wears a cowboy hat. Funny thing happens to all the great country music that is penned in Nashville, then is processed and molded into Music Row's idea of what will sell. Not hating on Brad in particular, but generally anyone who has to submit ot wearing a cowboy hat so people know that they are listening to approved country music. Same with fakey, cutesy cute southern accents like the one acted out by Miranda Lambert. I've actually seen both perform and they are very talented. Would like to hear them do an acoustic version of songs that they like. I wish they would do like Steve Earle did and tell the West End to fuck off.

8. Paul Teutul Sr. is suprisingly still on the air. American Chopper has worn out its welcome and his grumpy old man schtick has gone stale.

9. Kristen Wig is the weakest link on SNL yet gets the most air time. Whenever "Gilly" comes on I switch channels.

10. Cesar Milan could not train my dogs. They're too smart for his bullshit. Besides I can't stand anyone telling me or another living thing to shush. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. A Pit Bull needs to bite his ass clean off.

Dishonorable Mention: Liz Cheney, Mamoud Ahmedinejad, Jerry Lewis, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, Jessica Simpson, LeBron James, Alan Greenspan, Dane Cook, Dr. Oz, Bob Rohrman

Next Up: People I actually like.

* Yup. I missed a couple days of Nabplopomo because of Thanksgiving. While not claiming success, I will blog on for the rest of the month anyway.
** Glenn Beck has been permanently retired as the #1 punchable person in all eternity.

News for the Sake of News

2010-11-24T19:27:00.004-05:00

In my best Andy Rooney: Ever notice that on holidays there is very little news reported?

Like tonight. The headline story is about another little tiff between the Koreas, that was BIG news yesterday. Although the problem continues, the chatter has subsided. The Palins press to stay in the limelight, but many folks here in the US are turning their attention to their own families tonight. They couldn't get enough of Bristol last evening

If news can be turned off like a faucet, one has to wonder if news is only supplied to meet the current demand. As pointed out by Rachael Maddow, reporting on what someone said is not news. Events are news. Without events, there is no news.

I've always thought that news shows should last only as long as needed or at least fill the program's time slot with lesser but newsworthy news rather than fluff.

I have no news tonight. I do not want to pull a stunt like my crowd dive yesterday just to have something to blog about and I'm quite sure that you care not about how I feel about "The Corydon situation." Star Trek 2.10 or any other subject.

An Incident

2010-11-23T23:07:00.012-05:00

It happened a couple of hours ago at The Pacers vs. Cleveland game.

With about 6:00 minutes left in the game, Boomer, the Pacer's mascot, rolls out a T-shirt cannon. The apparatus uses compressed air to blast the rather cheap shirts up into the crowd. The fans go wild over this. Something about getting something for free brings out the beast within almost every human being in the field house. It's fun to catch one in front of thousands of other fans, but the shirts mean nothing to me. I've caught 2 so far and gave them away.

I sit on the aisle and have an edge over my seat locked competition. Tonight there was a tall youngster right in front of me who wisely stepped part way into the aisle to our right and had effectely blocked me out. It was going to be tough. The shirt coming from the tube aimed right toward us sailed way over our heads. It appeared that any chance for a free shirt was over. But wait! A shirt was coming right toward me and high enough so the gangly dude couldn't reach it. It started to fade to my left. I reached out and it went just out of reach. I must have overextended.

I couldn't get my right foot back down. I slowly toppled over my dear wife's lap and slightly forward. My upper torso wound up in row 14 and my legs were danging in row 15. I was face to face with a shocked four-year-old. I couldn't plant my feet to get back to my proper row and my arms couldn't immediately find a place to push myself back onto my feet. If one didn't see it go down, it looked like I had dived in front of the little fellow in 14 and attempted to snatch the $2 shirt from his cute little hands.

Outside of an apology to all the fans who I nearly squashed, there was little I could do.

As mentioned the other day, I'm a walking disaster - A true bull in a china shop. Once I brushed into a stack of glassware at Crate & Barrel causing the display to wobble. Wife told me to wait outside before we have to buy the whole store.

Today was another one for the book.

Bouncing Back

2010-11-22T19:44:00.006-05:00

As of 7:00 PM

This is one of those days. I'm not in a grumpy mood nor am I particularly unbalanced. I just want to put my mind in neutral and take care of mundane business and seek things interesting more than thrilling. I have no political opinions at present and don't care what your opinion might be. I switched off msnbc about 10 minutes into Chris Matthews. Too tiring. Agitating.

Sports? meh I don't know who is on MNF and don't care who wins. Even my beloved Pacers are not getting me fired up for their seemingly lost cause in Miami tonight.

I'm not hungry for anything in particular. The left-over turkey leg and broccoli casserole I had for dinner suited me just fine.

I'm looking for engrossing, yet pointless entertainment. Something that comes to me. I don't want to get emotionally involved.

It might be the weather, the aftermath of a full moon, or a flat biorhythm. I don't know. I don't care. Don't tell me I'm depressed. I'm not. I don't need a life coach. I'm happy sitting on the bench watching the game of life. Don't try to cheer me up. I'm quite content. Anything pressing can wait until tomorrow.

Just leave the man alone.

as of 11:00 PM

It's such a wonderful world! The Pacers beat the living shit out of the Miami Heat. My favorite baseball player was named NL MVP. Barbara Bush told Sarah Palin to stay in Alaska. I watched a DVRed presentation of Great Migrations. I'm reading a terrific book, "Japanese Destroyer Captain." Bosco is done being mad at me for accidentally closing him in a back room for about an hour. There's ice cream in the fridge. I got a lot of boring jobs done today.

You may now approach me.

She Bends Time

2010-11-21T01:07:00.000-05:00

That would be my dear mother-in-law. Case in point. Thanksgiving is today. Yes, Sunday November 21, 2010 will be just like your Thanksgiving, except on a different day. We have celebrated Christmas with the in-laws as late as January 2nd. Birthdays usually fall on the best available day within a reasonable time after the fact. According to the MIL's calendar, I changed astrological signs last year.

The poor woman is so nice and so accommodating. She wants to make sure all friends and family can gather as often as possible for these bashes. Finding a date that suits the schedules of many is difficult. Thanksgiving had never been moved before, but she has knee surgery lined up for Wednesday. OK, so there it is. I'm fine with breaking free of the arbitrary holidays set up by churches and governments.

From a cosmologists point of view, our local anniversaries only coincide with an approximation of where the Sun is in relation to the Earth.

Happy Thanksgiving.

One-Armed Juggler

2010-11-20T17:04:00.007-05:00

Halftime at the Indian Pacers usually features a performer of some sort. On Thursday night, it was a one-armed juggler. Really. I apologise for even thinking about the possible wisecracks that I could have made and those that I couldn't resist letting out. The fellow was pretty good considering that I often can't hold an object in both hands without dropping it.

I've seen many unusual acts during these half times. They had some acrobat spinning wildly by her teeth last week. I feared that she was going to let go and wind up in the cheap seats. Frisbee catching dogs are fun to watch. My dogs can't catch and tend to run off with whatever is thrown toward them. The worst act of all time was by the Cowboy Monkeys. Some cruel person had bolted or tied monkeys on the backs of dogs. A self parody of a Hollywood Texan did lasso tricks and told kids not to do drugs.I imagines that the monkeys and dogs were caged and neglected after the humiliation of the show had ended.

Regardless, very few folks pay attention to the performances. The crowds are somewhat sparse these days. Take away those out relieving themselves or buying over-priced snacks and the audience is basically those would rather talk among themselves than be entertained.

This is the bottom rung on the show biz ladder that performs at the games. I'm saddened. These hard working people can't be scraping out much of a living as an unappreciative audience looks on.

I'll be pepped up when I'm damn well ready to be.

2010-11-19T22:43:00.025-05:00

Blat - Blat - Blat, Blat-Blat. Blat - Blat - Blat, Blat-Blat. Blat - Blat - Blat, Blat-Blat. BLAT BLAT BLAT!

Yeah, that little rouser. The staple of every pep band that plays incessantly at almost every sporting event in the country. Over, and over, and over. Make it stop! It must be royalty free, otherwise someone is making a container ship worth of money or else is getting screwed out of beau coupe royalties. I'm not a fan of the 'Deeeee-Fence Deeeee-Fence' chant either. I've heard enough of 'Here we go DickHeads, here we go.' I will not obey the command flashed on the scoreboard to "Make Some Noise." And, by the way; fuck 'The Wave.

Last night's Pacer's game had a band that only knew about 5 rah-rah songs, recorded organ music playing every other Pacer's possession, and of course the hired cheer squad from Roy Hibbert's Area 55 was in good form. A little bit of atmosphere is always welcome to warm up the crowd. Last night's barrage of pep was intrusive. It was the Los Angeles Clippers who were in town. It was Thursday night. Both teams were missing a few key players. It was a blowout win for Indiana. I cheered when the situation called for it and I enjoyed watching this young team improve each game. Pardon me for just wanting to view the game in peace and quiet.

Call me Waldorf.

Danger is Everywhere

2010-11-18T15:23:00.008-05:00

Last night I nearly took a tumble, but somehow danced my way out of it like a ballerina hippo. The culprit was a Milk-Bone small breed biscuit on the wood floor. Instant roller skate as I stepped on it with the edge of my heel.

The other week A USB cable from the external HD was plugged into the desktop PC. I was barefoot and when getting up, the cable was snared in the gap between the two largest piggies. That would be the market pig and the home pig if I remember correctly. Feeling the resistance and attempting to save the whole computer apparatus from being ripped apart, I pulled back my foot and hopped across the room and landed against a table that spilled all that was on it all over the place.

These are just the last 2 incidents. I've been felled by the most innocent of household objects. The dangerous items like knives or electricity never seem to harm me. I always take precautions with those. One cannot make a home totally safe.

Same for airline flights Security can't catch everything even with the most invasive procedures. If I can hurt myself with any object, a would-be terrorist can turn any item into a weapon. And once on the plane, anything can became harmful.

Imagine if McGuyver was a terrorist. Think about convicts who can turn a toothbrush into a shiv. You can buy Asian ceramic knives for $19.95 plus if you act now get 2 Yoshi Blades. One for home, one for your get-by-metal-detector needs. Even the nudists pictured above can turn a fun-filled week of sun worship into a deadly situation.

Then there's me. I am not a terrorist, but somehow I could bring down a plane by just getting out of my seat.

Purchasing Music: Best of the Beatles

2010-11-17T22:18:00.005-05:00

The catalyst for this observation is iTunes offering Apple Record's catalogue (Beatles and few lame-assed acts like Badfinger and Mary Hopkin) here in 2010. My first iTunes purchase was April 29, 2004. CDs have been around in any sort of quantity since 1983. Radio and phonograph records go back to long before my debut. So just now we're having the Beatles offered legally for download?

A little late for me. I'm not in the market for Beatles music. This doesn't mean I dislike their music, nor am I condemning anyone who hails iTunes's announcement with an open wallet. I simply have no reason to purchase.

I've heard most Beatles songs hundreds of times. I purchased a few of their LPs on vinyl and a few more on CD (some repurchases). I ripped the best of the CDs into my collection of mp3s and picked up the other favorites from Napster before it was closed down and since reinvented and made totally legal. The songs that I kept are ones that you just don't hear much anymore. I do not find myself of having a need to listen to the likes of "Let It Be", "Day Tripper", "Help", and many other of the hittiest hits. The lone exception may be "Ticket To Ride" which is too good not have a copy of your own.

The Sgt. Pepper's album is one I never picked up on CD. Had it on vinyl, but consider it perhaps worthy of a purchase. Being a concept album, it requires listening all the way through, when "relaxed", and definitely with quality headphones.

Here are my favorite Beatle tunes, that I would buy if I didn't have them already.

1. Strawberry Fields
2. Ticket to Ride
3. You Can't Do That
4. Back in the U.S.S.R.
5. I Me Mine
6. Honey Pie
7. Oh Darling
8. Cry Baby Cry
9. Another Girl
10.Rocky Raccoon

Motivation to Clean House

2010-11-16T16:05:00.004-05:00

Just misplace something.
-like a wallet.

As the search widens and deepens, more and more out-of-place objects turn up. What is my Norelco shaver doing in my sweatshirt drawer? We haven't had that TV for years, so why is the remote still being kept? Hey! There's a doggie chew toy under this cushion. What the HELL is this thing? A screwdriver is found behind the toaster oven. Well, whadya know. Here's that utility bill we never got in the mail last year.

Add in all the unfinished projects sitting about and I realize that despite taking pride in being organized, all is not in its proper place. Wallet is found in my change box. For some reason the tip off the modeling glue that since dried up is also in there.

One day, I'm going to go through all my stuff, piece by piece. Every paper clip, pencil, dog toy, coupon, key fob, Q-Tip, cheap calculator and USB cable will a have a place. One day.

Pot Roast Fail

2010-11-15T23:29:00.001-05:00

So I make this fantastic best-evah English roast a few weeks back. I have no recipe, just a little common sense and a natural ability to devine the right way to cook various cuts of meat.

Pot roast number two last month was a let down. I used a chuck roast instead of an English roast and it came out a little too greasy and seemed to be more boiled than roasted. I think I used too much oil when browning it and added too much water. Maybe the cut of meat was to blame.

The rubber match was last night. Back to the English Roast. I forgot in in-laws were coming for dinner at six and didn't get home until 5:30. They decided to come early and were there waiting. I do all I can to duplicate Pot Roast I. I toss it is the oven for only 90 minutes because it is a bit smaller. The folks are patient and the time goes by quickly. I take out Pot Roast III and it JDLR (just doesn't look right). The potatoes and carrots are tender, but the meat doesn't have the proper texture. It's too solid and looks dried out.

We eat it anyway and it gets lukewarm reviews. I tastes fine, and isn't all the dry thanks to my fantastic gravy, but it is a bit too tough. Thank god we had unfuckupable ice cream and brownies for desert. So what went wrong? The lid on the casserole dish wasn't on squarely and I had the temp at 375 instead of 325. Get in a rush, and this is what happens. I'm 1 of 3 for recent pot roasts and have decided to work with poultry the next few times out.

Three Ways to Gag a Wife

2010-11-14T22:37:00.007-05:00

It's funny when my dear wife says " Eew! Sick!"and means it. Funnier still is when whatever set her off is not at all offensive to me.

This week it was Popeye's Chicken that spawned completely opposite reactions. They are offering deep fried craw fish. I love those yummy little beggars and always have been a fan of chicken houses that cater to Southern tastes like Popeye's, Church's and BoJangles. Of course, I see the TV ad and am ready to drive twenty minutes to the nearest Popeye's despite already have eaten supper. She considers crawfish to be closer to crickets than crab when it comes to ingesting them. After a little good-natured teasing and an over-the-top reaction by the wife, the moment passed quickly.

About 15 minutes later, she came back in the room and I was watching Modern Marvels again which featured a coin operated live bait vendor. As if on cue, a fisherman reaches into a container full of live craw fish. "Eew! How can you eat those things?", she says while shuddering. I explain that they're just little lobsters and quite tasty, but to no avail. She's almost gagging and is forced to leave the room. " Tell me when that part's over."

So I submit three other foods that I enjoy, but disgusts the wife.

besides craw fish...

1, Fish with heads still attached.
2. Sardines packed in olive oil, even without heads.
3. Chicken gizzards.

And to be fair, you can make me gag because of:

1, Pickles
2. Mayonnaise
3. Asparagus
4. Cottage Cheese

Stupid Liquor Laws

2010-11-13T19:20:00.003-05:00

I was watching a Modern Marvels episode about coin operated machines. One segment dealt with a vending machine in Pennsylvania that dispensed wine to supermarket customers. I was a cool machine. that looked more convenient than squatting and reaching in front of poorly organized shelves or pulling the bottles from a rack to check the price / contents. The bottles were clearly displayed in a well-lighted glass case and you saved yourself the time by not having to wait in the check out line for a pure wine run.

Not so fast, Thomas. The machine had you slide your credit card and driver's license into a slot, then took your picture. The narrator went on to say that the company that invented the system has on record every customer who has used the machine. All because this was alcohol and because it seems that grocery stores can't sell wine in the same way they do soda and unhealthy snacks.

More effort is spent enforcing the law than it is worth. Here, In Indiana, one can buy whiskey at most any grocery store. We are not without our own idiotic legislation in these matters. One can still not buy package liquor on Sunday. A few years ago, beer could not be sold in 16 oz. cans. (Fear of drinking too much? I dunno.) In Shelby County, taverns cannot advertise alcohol produces on the outside of their establishments.

I plan to run a search on crazy and convoluted liquor laws, right now. I know Indiana and Pennsylvania are not the only locales that have them on their books.

I apologize to my team, my family and all the fans I have let down.

2010-11-12T18:27:00.009-05:00

This post is backdated. But to due circumstances well within my control, I spaced last night's post. The point of NaBloPoMo (http://www.nablopomo.com/ ) is to post every day in November. Every day. Not just 30 times during in November, but every freakin' day during the month. I got my reasons for not just dropping out of contention but instead continuing on so I can claim the honor.

I've already accomplish the feat twice before. I did it honestly, although some of the posts resembled Twitter tweets. Keep that word "tweets" in your head for later. I was determined to deliver 30 beefy daily blog posts this month, but missing one day has made that impossible. Isn't that a shame? How tragic! Really! Why should I give up over one lousy day? OK, you have a point there, but shitty blog or not, I consider myself still in the running for Nablopomo honors.

I had half of a rough draft , which you will see in a few minutes, that I was going to clean up and publish, but something happened. I took a break to watch "The Soup." During a commercial break, I reached for my iPhone and took a look at what was in the app store. I needed something in the way of a cheap time-waster for when I get stuck waiting for an oil change or anytime else I'm held captive. There it was, Angry Birds. It had a perfect rating and it had been number 1 for weeks. I am not one of great thumb skills, and I don't need the aggravation of any real time action. This looked like a more passive activity. Only ninety-nine cents? OK, they got me.

My Angry Birds session ended at about 3:00 a.m. Much too late to finish my blog of the day.

Five hours, folks. Five hours, playing a time waster. Five hours trying to knock a log onto a pig's head by flinging suicidal birds out of a sling shot. Do not buy Angry Birds. It is crack. It's an electronic lobotomy. Only buy it if you intend to use it while you are on the clock at a crappy job.

I sincerely apologize, but for those who have been sucked into the black hole that is Angry Birds, I know I have your forgiveness and can claim a mulligan in this years' NaBloPoMo challenge.

The BIG Question

2010-11-11T14:03:00.008-05:00

One or two of my Bonus Coverage readers (around 50%) have commented / responded to a question put forth on Tuesday. "If a zombie bites a vampire or vice versa, what would be the result?"

Much like telling one of Mudd's androids that you always lie, the above question, if pondered too long will put one in danger of a head explosion.

My field notes:

Vampire bites Zombie
Do zombies have blood?...If so, are vampires persnickety about who they bite?... zombies would have to be bitten three times to become a vampire, doubt if any respectable vamp would allow a zombie into the club... A killing bite wouldn't kill the zombie unless the brain was eaten - zombie would just be more jacked up than before... Zombies, being dead, do not regenerate tissue or grow - once drained of blood - no chance for 2nd or third attacks.... Tom Cruise was messed up after drinking dead blood...

Conclusion: Vampires would not have any reason to bite a zombie. They might kill them by conventional means due to zombies horning in on the fresh blood supply. A zombie bitten out of desperation would gain no abilities nor would be any less cursed.

Zombie bites Vampire:
Vampires a strong and agile... only the weakest of vampires are in danger of being bitten or eaten... Zombies limited to nighttime attacks... Bitten vampire's immune system determines whether it dies again or not... Either vampire becomes a zombie and loses all vampire powers or bite simply disfigures vampire. I say it dies, much like from a wooden stake, but has the benefit of waking to a new curse. Completely eaten vampires, however, must die. Still too elusive to allow this to ever happen. Do vampires shape shift? Can they self heal? Think so.

Conclusion: Implausible that a zombie would ever get a chance to bite a vampire. If so vampire would die, become a zombie and forfeit all vampire powers and good looks.

After this (What's the opposite of extensive?) research, a twitter friend put an end to the speculation with the perfect answer.

Q: If a vampire bit a zombie or vice versa, what would be the result?
A: Larry King

Canned Laughter

2010-11-10T20:04:00.004-05:00

I watched only five minutes of "How I Met Your Mother" before switching off for good. Sorry NPH, but nothing can overcome the laugh track that is employed every time a character says or does something that has even a .0001% chance of being funny.

The recorded laughs are terrible. The simulated audience starts laughing all at once and cuts off the chuckles instantly. Notice too ► there are no dynamics. All the laughs indicate an equal reaction to each producer-selected joke. A squirt-milk-out-of-your-nose-because-you-are-laughing-so-hard piece of comedy gets the same reaction as a knock-knock joke.

Let me decide what is funny. Don't even bring a conditioned- response, B.F. Skinner pidgeony, brainwashed dolt-filled "live" audience that has someone coaching them.

This mini-rant was instigated by Green Acres showing on the blood draw center's waiting room TV. That show was not funny. Today it plays as sexist, xenophobic, and incites class warfare. To think even recorded audiences were guffawing at it, disgusts me.

Coming up: More on the zombie vs. vampire mind-bender. Stay tuned.

Disaster Mode

2010-11-09T00:09:00.004-05:00

The astronaut pen that I bought in the 1990s at a NSA gift shop is broken. You know the one featured on Seinfeld that writes upside down? The very same.

It was Sunday afternoon at 12:45 p.m. Boing! Little pen parts go flying across the room. In attempting to recover them all I spill coffee on my desktop. I return with a paper towel, sop up the coffee and go back to the business of getting my last minute fantasy football changes submitted before the 1:00 p.m. deadline. That didn't happen. Time has expired. Michael F. Bush becomes my running back. Now I return to the pen. I reassemble it and once again I let the spring flip parts here and there. The ink cartridge finds its way between two file cabinets. I need to get a long rod or stick and flick it forward. I have just the thing, but it's locked in my car. Now I can't find my keys. Oh yeah, in my pants pocket. While pulling the keys from the pants that I'm not wearing at the time, all my change spills on the floor. I gather up the change and get the stick from the car. A few minutes later I have the cartridge. I return the stick thing back to its proper place. I put my keys where they belong, put the change in the change tin and sit down for some NFL football.

Fast forward until tonight. I need to tally the league stats for the fantasy football leagues. There are the pen parts on my computer desk except the spring. I crawl around on all fours and miraculously find it. The pen goes together, but it appears that two of the parts were once bonded together. No problem. I go to the garage and get the modeling glue, but knock over a box of bases I use for mounting miniature soldiers. It takes five mintes to put the bases back in the box. Finally, a spot of glue. Pen clamped and hopefully fixed. Glue returned to proper place in modeling tool box.

Punch line: I find out that by not making the fantasy football substitution on time yesterday, I have lost my game by 1 point. Stupid fucking pen.

What is this glue cap doing on my desk?

Problems with Zombies

2010-11-08T18:08:00.009-05:00

All is well here in Indiana. Don't be alarmed by this post's title. No zombies around here. It's just that the nerd / geek in me is strong today and I was staring at the ceiling last night thinking about the zombies featured in Sunday's episode of The Walking Dead on AMC.

The zombies in The Walking Dead are the classic slow movers with a staggering gait. They sport rotting flesh, dangling entrails, and have atrocious table manners. In other words, zombie zombies. This is my kind of zombie.

There are three questions I have about zombie dynamics.

1. Why don't zombies eat other zombies? Eventually there will be a point when fresh human flesh is depleted and alternatives need to be found. I find it hard to believe that there is a taboo among the undead against cannibalism. I suppose they would eventually turn to eating each other. I just don't see zombies being put in the middle of a moral dilemma over this. Eventually the last remaining living beings could wait until the zombies ate each other, then kill the last one.

2. Where do they put it all? Some of those staggering about are missing key components of their digestive system. Secondary concern: Can zombies gain weight?

3. If a zombie bit a vampire or vice versa, what would be the result?

Anyway, The Walking Dead is fantastic entertainment.

Enjoy the first episode here.

Five a.m. Fixation

2010-11-07T21:15:00.011-05:00

The best part of my day is between midnight and six in the morning. It's my time. Sometimes I enjoy uninterrupted reading. It's also a perfect setting for doing work that requires a quiet house such as paying bills online. Mostly though, It's an ideal time to watch television that: a) requires concentration or b) I'm to embarrassed to admit I am watching

The television landscape changes after 2:00 a.m. One will see commercials that rarely appear during the daylight hours. This is how I came to loathe alpacas. One commercial has me intrigued and very close to actually making my first ever purchase of a product off a TV ad.

Introducing: The Yoshiblade.

Why THIS knife? Other offerings of seen-on-TV cutting tools have failed to arouse me (see knife, Ginsu). My current collection of quality knives cuts just fine. But - This Yoshiblade, I am told, is make of a ceramic material. Ooh, and it sounds like it originates in Asia. Perhaps Tojo Hidecki used a Yoshiblade to slice his tomatoes? The assemblage of ordinary ladies in the extended commercial are making short order of various foodstuffs with a relative lack of effort considering that the Yoshiblade appears to only be six inches long. I am also aware that other ceramic knives cost a whole bunch of money. This may be my only shot at getting an affordable, albeit diminutive and underpowered (possibly Asian), ceramic knife.

What the hell am I waiting for? One Yoshiblade can replace my entire drawer of knives, despite the fact that you get two Yoshiblades and a complement of other Yoshiesque kitchen tools for $19.95 plus the purposely vague shipping and handling costs. It's overkill if you ask me.

But it's five a.m. Operators are standing by. They stayed up just to take my order. I just want to experience the age-old Asian tradition of torturing vegetables with a ceramic knife. How could I go wrong?

I can't bring myself to order. The urge subsides until later this morning when like being in a bad episode of The Twilight Zone, I will be tested again by this persuasive ad.

Dominion

2010-11-06T17:24:00.007-04:00

Make no mistake about it, I like playing games. Board games. Card Games; Something that challenges the mind, but not so much that you spend your life mastering it; Above all, something fun.

Pay attention if you too enjoy playing games, but the thrill of Monopoly, Clue, Chutes and Ladders, Risk, or other widely sold titles, is gone Read on if you dread it when someone brings out a social interaction game that conflicts with your misanthropic nature. Read on if you don't like dumb luck determining the winner. Read on if you like to win because you are the superior player, but if you lose you want to keep playing until you do win. Read on if you want a game that is easy for friends and family to learn and compete.

There are many games in a category called European style games. These games feature systems that involve little or no luck, strategic interactions with other players, easy and simple rules, and high quality game components. Dominion is one of these.

So far, any group of friends to which we have introduced Dominion has enjoyed playing, and better yet asks us to bring it along when we visit. Not so with some other games. Word games or games that involve general knowledge usually finds one or two players dominating and discourages the more casual gamer. Dominion is not a game that drags on because the time between turns is too long and either bores your guests or annoys those who wonder why it takes so much time to contemplate a move you could have been thinking about while you were waiting for your turn to come up.

The skinny on Dominion is that it is a card game that is won by acquiring and managing resources in order to secure the most victory points. Players buy cards that are the tools that are needed to get the cards that are needed to win.

Here are links to Dominion and other Euro style games that I recommend. They are a bit pricey but are a great value.

Review of Dominion

Dominion On Board Game Geek

Settlers of Catan

Ticket To Ride

Don't Mention It

2010-11-05T16:59:00.009-04:00

There's plenty of chatter at my local poker room, especially among those who happen to be winning that night. Players are prohibited from talking about the current hand, but can speak about any other subjects

I've heard stories about serving jail time, being on a reality show, life in foreign lands, tall tales; you name it. I've heard some of the rauchiest dirty jokes. I hear hundreds of retellings of historical events that occured at card rooms from all over the world. I find out about card players who had died, been arrested, got into a fight, or left town for "personal reasons."

The unwritten rule is that there is no talk of politics or religion. A few ignorant racial or homophobic remarks slip in, but there's so much diversity in the room that someone will tell the bigot to ease up.

Despite the barber shop atmosphere, there are times I pack my iPod and noise blocking ear buds so I don't hear a single word. Some tables' conversations are boring and annoying to me. . Here is the short list that may explain why I've decided to listen to music instead of tuning in to your riveting narrative.

I don't want to hear about:

1. Your fantasy sports team. I only care about my teams. If you are not in my league, it doesn't matter that you grabbed Kenny Britt off the waiver wire and he's your leading wide receiver.

2. Ex girlfriends, wives, husbands, boyfriends, blow up sex dolls, etc. It's pitiful. If something is defined by the prefix "ex", then you shouldn't give a rat's ass about them, let alone assume that I do.

3. Famous friends. Oh, Peyton Manning once stood at the next urinal over from yours? Which brings us to...

4. Anything to do with your stuff or anyone else's. I don't need to elaborate, do I?

5. How wonderful you are. Self depreciation plays much better at a table full of fellow losers.

Rosetta Stone?

2010-11-04T15:26:00.004-04:00

I have a burning desire to learn Latin American Spanish. Everytime we visit our favorite Mexican eatery, El Jaripeo, the motivation to learn surges forward. I swear I know half the language already. I can read most of the signs posted for Dos Equis and Modelo. The waiters call me amigo. I can kind of order beer in Spanish "uno cervesa, por favor."

Add in those nouns that require an a or o tacked on to its English counterpart plus everything I've picked up from watching boxeo on Telemundo (e.g. peso ligero) and I have have a great start. I'm almost fluent! Can I put together a complete sentence? No. Can I understand a conversation between two native Spanish speakers? No, pendejo, you cannot. You are not fluent. You can only effectively speak one language. Another embarrassed US citizen I am. Everyone else in the world can speak multiple languages, yet the prevailing xenophobic attitude in this nation does not deem it to be important. I feel ignorant.

So you know I'm all ears when it comes to a Rosetta Stone commercial. Although I'd rather take a pill, or have minor surgical modifications done to get instant Spanish, Rosetta Stone seems to be my best shot. Yes, I took the minimal requirement of 10 hours of German. I picked up a few words of Polish from my old neighborhood, and I even took an intense summer course in advance of my trip to Hungary. I did OK with Hungarian after a few days of immersion while visiting my cousins , but soon afterwards, I forgot most of it.

At least there are opportunities to hear Spanish spoken on TV and among a few of the East Side citizens. I could get the basics down and build by watching novellas on Univision. Rosetta Stone may be the way to go. All I need now is to find $600 and the will power to go through the course correctly. Then I look at some of the other projects I abandoned over the years and think of what I would do if $650 (price of Rosetta Stone plus the $50 that I think I lost yesterday) fell out of the sky. Right now, a set of Yoshi Blades and $570 worth of food sounds like a better alternative.

The other down side would be that after completing the Rosetta Stone courses, the folks at El Jaripeo would laugh and point at me saying that I talk with a thick and confusing Rosetta Stone accent.

Perhaps going to Mexico City, being kidnapped, and learning the language from my captors is my best bet.

Farblondget

2010-11-03T21:23:00.005-04:00

Crappola! I have to scare up some dinner in ninety minutes. And pick up a prescription. And mail a package. And gas the car. Last stop in the grocery store. Cheap meat? Pork Loin. Chicken thighs. Oh, Diet Pepsi. Shit, no side dishes, Frozen corn, Nah, casserole tonight. Rice. Mushrooms. Celery carrots. Soup. Canned French fried onions. Wait! Out of orange juice. Where's my freaking list. Screw it. Apricot halves. Long line. Long line. Bingo. Short line. Wham. wham. wham. Damn. Low on cash. Pay with debit card. Cash back? Spent some to mail package. Yes. $50. Grab bags. Toss in cart. Rush home. tote in groceries. Shit! Forgot to get gas. Prescription? Only one is here. Have to go back and get the other. Later. Unload groceries. Toss out bags. Where's my keys? On car seat. OK. Groceries up. What the hell is the canned soup doing in the fridge? Put casserole together. Forget to turn on the oven. Find wallet in pantry where soup was to go. Turn oven on. Casserole works out fine. Forgot to feed dogs.

This morning I get up and look in my wallet and something isn't right I only vaguely remember getting the $50 cash back. Receipt says I received it. Wallet says no. Sure it was 20-20-10. I see a 50. Not sure if it was there from before. New round of fluster and panic set in. Xanax.

All is well. Still not sure if I lost fifty bucks but have rationalized that in the scheme of things all the money one finds is about equal to what one loses. If someone would tell me where it went or if it was ever lost at all, I'd feel better. But what the hell. It might turn up and looking for it will do little good. Checking the trash can tomorrow. Maybe the freezer. Maybe in a coat pocket. If the money is here, it aint going anywhere. If it fell out of a pocket it's gone. Hope someone in need found it.

Thank you, Xanax.

Vote for Sale

2010-11-02T00:30:00.005-04:00

Billions of dollars are tossed into election campaigns. I seems to be to a literal waste of money for the losing candidates and a bad value for the winners. I have yet to be swayed by a TV spot. Mailing me a piece of paper won't change my mind. My neighbors' yard signs serve no more purpose than to reinforce the fact that they are either blockheads or reasonable people (like me).

I did a search on "cost per vote" and in some cases, candidates spent nearly $200 to secure each vote. You're way ahead of me. I could use two-hundred extra bucks deposited directly into my wallet, how 'bout you?

No moral dilemma either. All candidates pay us. It is only stipulated that we vote for somebody. No TV ads, no litter, no unsightly lawn signs, maybe even less money spent on campaigns. Winners all-round. Pragmatism at its best.

Left to Our Own Mnemonic Devices

2010-11-01T13:29:00.009-04:00

Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November;
February has twenty eight alone
All the rest have thirty-one
Except in Leap Year, that's the time
When February's Days are twenty-nine

So how many days in November then? This poem, one of the many atrocities passed down to us from old England (including, but not limited to, the King James version of the Bible) does little to answer my question.

This is a particularly bad mnemonic device. December also rhymes with September. I've see many people screw up the singing of The US National Anthem, so not getting the words right to this forgettable little poem must be common. December, in some people's minds, must have 30 days. This would put the kibosh on New Year's Eve and prevent Christmas and New Year's Day from being exactly one week apart. I question too, whether memorizing these 32 words is more of a task than just remembering that November has 30 days or procuring a calender and / or utilizing the wonderful calender provided by your computer's OS

I relied on the knuckle method for years. This works pretty well if you are not wearing mittens. The trick is making sure the pinkie knuckle is tapped twice to insure that the Roman emperors each get their full 31-day month. Follow the link for the detailed instructions on how to perform this cute trick. Give up? November has 30 days. Much easier isn't it?

I fell sorry for those who operate solely in the lower regions of the cognitive domain. Mnemonic devices are often used by these folks to fortify useless or easily obtained information. Thinking and creativity take a back seat to banality. Mnemonic devices clutter our brains just as much as the knowledge they help us recall. I wish I was free from them.

I leave you with:

All In for Gen Con

2010-07-31T11:56:00.006-04:00

We are all geeky about something.

Gen Con is this week right here in Indianapolis. This will be my 5th visit. The level of involvement over the years goes like this: curious, interested, involved, engulfed, fanatical. Somewhere between the involved and engulfed phase I shook loose from the mild embarrassment I felt about being a part of this community. To this day it still requires a bit of an explanation as to 1) What is Gen Con? and 2) Why are you paying $70 to attend? In the early days I wouldn't bring up the subject, lest I get further queried as if I had two navels or practiced Voodoo. Realizing that everyone is a geek about something (and if they aren't they are boring people). I will now talk your ear off about my new passion.

So here is the FAQ section in which I proudly proclaim my geekdom.

What is Gen Con?
It's a gaming convention where the gaming industry and players come together to play and preview primarily board and card games.

For the full (and boring) Wiki version: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gen_Con

Why are you paying $70 to attend?
I'd rather not pay the fee in light of the fact that most events and sessions carry an extra charge and that the folks in the exhibit hall must pay to sell their wares. That being said, there are other $70 items that I don't think are worth the money. One being a round of golf which is a subject that I will someday open up about in a later post.

Is this one of those conventions where people dress up like trolls, warriors, and other fictional characters?
Yes. But I don't. It's like going to nudist colony with one's clothes on. I get to view the spectacle without really participating. It is annoying when I get smacked by a rubber sword or a dragon tail in a crowded aisle.

Are there games like Monopoly at Gen Con?
I suppose, but outside Magic the Gathering, and Dungeons and Dragons. most of the titles are a newer generation of board games that feature high quality components and fresh designs that rely on strategy to win rather than luck. Many of the the titles originate in Europe and are not found at Wal-Mart or Target. They are sold in specialty game stores. Many of themes are fantasy and horror related and that brings in many of the comic book fans.

What games do you play?
I mostly play war games featuring historical accuracy. Reading about a famous battle is one thing, but playing it on a tabletop goes a long way in understanding the conflict. I particularly like games with miniatures. Read: toy soldiers.

Any games that I'd like?
Given that you like playing games, there are a few worth looking into. For example, Settlers of Catan, Dominion, and Ticket to Ride are games that my friends and family enjoy.

So what do you do there for 4 1/2 days?
I play the games with fans from all over the nation. Often the game's designer is on hand to answer questions or give tips on winning strategies. I'm booked solid with various sessions.

...and?
Felicia Day will be there this year and I once saw Kari Byron of The Mythbusters. Oh, and you can grab a bunch of swag. There will be special edition game pieces given out. There's other things like Anime festivals of which I hold no interest. It's like Las Vegas. Everyone has a different agenda at the same location. Having 30,000 other gamers there is a sight to behold.

See you there?

Back to School at Wal-Mart

2010-07-14T22:39:00.007-04:00

Back to School sales have always triggered an acute episode of depression and dread within me. They remind me that summer will be ending some day. That's what hit me when I walked into my local Wal-Mart today. It's effen July 14. It's less than three weeks into the season. Yet I see full displays of Elmer's School Glue, compasses with sharp points, gel pens, giant erasers, spiral notebooks, and other supplies for the classroom that will be banned by most teachers from day one. Summarily: school glue (kids pour it on their palm, let it dry, and peel it off the fine layer of an imprint of their skin; compasses (sharp object, duh?), gel pens (especially pink, tend to bleed on cheap-assed school paper, and are hard on teacher's eyes) ; big erasers (big hole in paper, guaranteed), spiral notebooks (devices of evil constructed out of wire, shreds of paper all over creation, and maned edges of paper lock together when stacked).

These are great deals for adults who do not have access to a bounty of free office supplies from their job site, but for parents lacking shopping savvy or held captive to the desires of their children, it's a big waste of money. The wise wait until registration when the teacher provides a list of required (and sensible) supplies. Which, come to think of it, is within three weeks in these parts. School opens August 2. I guess not too many Indiana children are needed to harvest the corn crop. So, my shock at seeing this crap on the shelves in mid-July shouldn't have stunned me.

What did stun me was the condition of said displays at this particular Wal-Mart. It looked like someone spilled a giant box of Lucky Charms all over the front of the store. Bulk school supplies spilled from various bins and boxes had formed a sea of pink, blue, pink, yellow, red, green, pink, pink, purple, turquoise, and pink. Newly packaged objects mixed with broken and / or unpacked objects. The few survivors wading through the area were filling their carts indiscriminately. While one parent was hollering across a mound of pocket folders to ask her little Boo Boo what he needed, he was tossing stuff in the cart that he wanted. A clerk was failing in his attempt to restock the displays as some were picking merchandise right off his flat wagon.

OK, maybe ~~I mostly made most of this up~~ exaggerate a bit. But the store is a mess. I went it looking for mounting putty that is usually found right where the sale was happening. Going back an aisle or two, hoping that the putty was just moved for the occasion, I walked into a clearance sale that was going on. That's four rows of absolute junk that Wal-Mart shoppers have rummaged through for the past few months. There was no apparent system to the placement of these items. If there was, a complex system that only Stephen Hawking could grasp was used. How could a single washcloth relate to a a partially open package of 240 grain sand paper or a pack of birthday candles?

Wal-Mart gives me the willies anyway, but today was particularly distressing. Frustration in not finding mounting putty, facing the fact that summer does not last forever, and that not everyone is as neat and orderly as me, presented a three-headed beast that sent me away in a quivering mass of anxiety.

Don't Make Me Over

2010-03-05T18:16:00.006-05:00

So goes the old Dionne Warwick tune from 1962. (a good one at that)

Leave me alone when it comes to dressing me. I'm a big boy, and I know what I like to wear. I know what I won't wear. Sure, if I had to look good for a BIG formal event, I'd assuredly have Tim Gunn cleaning me up for the fête, but you are not Tim Gunn, forget about it.

My wardrobe almost exclusively consists of plain navy blue, gray, or black tee shirts on top with dark pants or shorts on the bottom. A hoodie goes over the tee in the winter. I do not go to a job site to work, I do not need anything but.

Nothing is more demeaning than a grown man having his wife or girl friend help him shop for clothes. If I need a suit and tie or an upgrade to my 100-dollar-dinner outfit, I am capable of putting together a good set of good looking and comfortable vines. I cringe when I witness some poor shinkydinked fellow modeling clothes for a meddlesome and controlling woman

My hair, buzzed off. My face, always clean-shaven. I do not like jewelry. Haberdashery is out. This does not make me a slob. I just happen to dress simply.

This Spartan approach also allows my charming personality to shine through and not be hidden by an ostentatious wardrobe.

The Purge

2010-02-28T22:16:00.013-05:00

This small piece of internetz space is overgrown with weeds. So neglected has it been that I don't even check in to see if anyone has left a comment. Come to find out that there has been weed-like comments by some douche who goes by the inspiring name of Anonymous. I'm minutes away from deleting A's comments which concern promotion of needless services and are sown on the most barren of online soil.

The second order of business is to increase the font size. Not only does it give impression of more content, but keeps people from saying "Fuck it. I'm not going to strain my eyes to read this teeny-tiny font." The readers who arrive here by mistake or are weeding out their bookmarks and wondering what the hell "Harrumph, Harrumph" is / was all about and bailing out after seeing the dinky text cannot be blamed. Nothing written in small print is interesting. This would include such things as disclaimers, footnotes, government warnings, and expiration labels.

Since I decided to keep this blog active, I had to reconcile it with my social media involvement. Twitter sates 99% of my online communication needs. Facebook? Still haven't warmed up to it. Facebook is often like being forced to look at wedding pictures of the wedding that already ruined an otherwise exciting Saturday for me.

Harrumph, Harrumph is now called called Bonus Coverage. Should a snide remark on Twitter lead to a rant or a tedious account of an actual event that interrupts my mundane life, then you'll find it here.

Oh, I almost forgot. This post is titled The Purge. I have pared down the list of people I follow on Twitter. I used to be so thrilled that someone would follow little ol' me that I would follow them right back. Now jaded, and convinced that while I wasn't reading their tweets any more than they were reading mine, I had to pull the plug on these low voltage excuses for human interaction. I mean, really. I'm saturation bombing Twitter with profanity and a mutual follower is sending out tweets that read like auditions for sappy greeting cards.

Among the malfeasance or indiscretion that led to being scratched from my list included the following:

Retweeting everything. I mean everything. Particularly annoying are retweets of headline news items. "Asteroid hits Cincinnati, Ties up Traffic." Thanks Mr. News Tipster(s).

Offering advice. I don't need a life coach. I certainly don't want to be like you. ...and by the way, if you want to make me financially successful, give me all your money, otherwise, fuck off.

Celebs without content. Make me laugh, say something provocative, or else get lost.

People who can't or won't write above a 5th grade level. I'm assuming they don't read very well either and my posts are too difficult for them to grasp. Although rife with typos as a result of posting at 5:00 a.m. or when my steady state is disturbed by the slightest chemical imbalance, my posts at least are aimed at reasonably intelligent followers.

Anyone who follows thousands of people. Sorry, Jack, one less won't make much difference.

So why am I following you? Because you're interesting. You're are a good writer. You will engage in a conversation. More so, I am drawn to the disenchanted, nihilistic, irreverent, insecure, befuddled, and otherwise mentally unbalanced.

Anyone who can scribe a riveting account of their latest meal, deserves to be read.

Offended? Bite Me.

2010-02-03T04:12:00.014-05:00

Many of my my fellow progressives are prone to being easily outraged at innocuous statements. If a word comes out of some one's mouth even to vaguely suggest a slight, insult, tort, smear, or ill suggestion, then many swoon in shock.

The latest is the Nike ad where basketball star, Kobe Bryant, stated he doesn't "leave anything in the chamber." OMFG! So now we're saying that a sport that involves "shots" can't use a firearms metaphor? Kobe didn't say that when he plays he has the urge to kill every motherfucker on the opposing team. Did he?

In other PC news, someone (Biden) said Negro, and is catching hell for it. Yeah, I know, it sounds suspiciously like an N-bomb, especially when some inbred cracker drawls it out - and it is an antiquated term like octaroon or mulatto that was devised by and for anal racists who thought it necessary to construct a taxonomy of non whiteys. But, shit, it's not really an insult in most contexts and in fact may be the most accurate way of referring to a person of color. Not all people of color are black, nor are they African Americans. It's no big deal. Kind of like farting. Not socially acceptable, but an "excuse me" and a blast of fresh air is all that's needed to right the wrong.

I say this to make a point. Andrei Kirelinko (initials A.K.) of the Utah Jazz sports the number 47. No accident that it refers to the famous Russian automatic weapon. And like I said, pro sports are rife with terms that suggest violence. It so happens that Gilbert Arenas (Black guy) was just suspended drawing a weapon in the locker room. Bad idea by Gilbert. So now, Kobe, can't even talk about guns. AK-47 still goes about his busines.

I'm suggesting that the response to the Nike ad is more racist than Biden's gaffe. Had Steve Nash said "empty chamber" would there be the same outcry? Doubt it.

The danger of crying foul every time someone utters a misplaces word, is that there is no headroom for truly racist remarks or hate speech. I'm not suggesting that we call open season for offensive speech. Let's just show a little more tolerance and listen to what people say and not their choice of words.

Cell Phone Fun

2010-01-30T05:49:00.004-05:00

Right now I can't find the thing. I received a call while at a friend's house and must have laid on his kitchen counter, It is 5:00 a.m. and I dare not call the number to see if it is there. Meanwhile, I'll relate an actual cell conversation I had. The uncensored converstaion follows,

Ring tone: John Lee Hooker - Boom Boom Breer breer breer breer der der der der der der der ♪♫

I answer.
Brother on the line: Whasup, Nigger?
Me: Say what!?
Brother: Wasup, Nigger?
Me. Do I know you?
Brother "Where you at?
Me: I don't think I'm the Nigger you're looking for. ( Should I have said this?)
Brother; When you getting here?
Me: You got the wrong number, fellow.
Brother. This ain't you?
Me: It's me, but not who you think I am.
Brother. Well, put on (couldn't make out name), then.
Me: He's not here either.
Brother: Who is this?
Me: Someone you don't know.
Brother: What?
Me: I gotta go.., man. Sorry.

Being addressed as Nigger, in an almost affectionate tone didn't bother me in the least. It sounded so right in this context. I mean, I call my friends bastards, , cocksuckers, pricks, and sumnabitches, during friendly conversations. It's a man thing. Let us speak freely among ourselves.

And another thing, do I sound like a Black man or does his friend sound like a White man? How else could he be convinced I was the party we was seeking?

This brings up another issue with cell phones. I am going to have to install an OEM Blue Tooth system in my Honda. (hands-FREE conversation, voice recognition commands, through audio system) Reaching for a phone while driving could be the end of me.

If I ever find my phone.

Baker Street and The Year of the Cat

2009-11-22T19:06:00.008-05:00

I almost ruined an hour of my limited social life.

So we're on our way to Jockamo UC Pizza and Stuck in the Middle With You by Stealer's Wheel pops onto one of the XM Radio stations. It's not bad for a pop song that was whelped in the early 70s, so I didn't wish it to the cornfield by punching another preset. Instead I offered one of my music challenges to my dear wife about the song. The offer usually is for a sizable cash prize in line with the difficulty of the question. I pride myself in my knowledge of American music and the wife was sequestered in a Baptist home for many years and has, despite a ongoing effort to bring herself up to speed, no more than a cursory knowledge of such things

The question: Who is the lead singer / front man for Stealer's Wheel? This was for $10, because it is relatively easy. Nonetheless, she gives up after making a who-gives-a-shit guess of Chuck Berry. She wanted to listen to the song. After it ended she said, "Well, who was it?"

"Who was what?"
The Stealer's Wheel guy.
"Oh, that was _______________..." My mind goes blank as we arrive at Jockamo.

We greet our friends, but I'm preoccupied with coming up with the singer's name." I appear to be in some sort of snit. giving distant and terse answers to questions thrown my way. I apologize explaining I have something on my mind. When I divulge just exactly what is on my mind, I get puzzled looks. I am assured that I can look it up when I get home and should let it go. I try, but can't stop rolling around names in my head as I hopefully give the impression that I am engaged in the conversation. Al Stewart? Criss Cross? Edward Bear? Gilbert O'Sullivan? All the leisure suited lightweights of the era when Top 40 radio was nearing its death were considered.

"His last name begins with an "R". ", I blurt.
Eyes roll.

After sucking back 11 ounces of Fat Tire, the synapse fires. "Rafferty."
The table is mildly happy for me; more happy that I am done with this nonsense.

"But what was his first name?" John? James? Something with a "J".
I'm alone in my conversation by now. Can hardly blame the people.

More Fat Tire then BANG. "Jerry Rafferty!" - "no Gerry Rafferty with a G"

The Pizza arrives. I come back from the ionosphere just in time to enjoy my pizza and join the party. Later, we come back to our place to play Dominion and I catch a little teasing about having my cards in plastic sleeves. I'm refereed to as Monk for the rest of the evening for my OCD behavior.

Gerry effing Rafferty.

Apple ][ 48K

2009-11-21T12:18:00.005-05:00

10 TEXT: HOME
20 PRINT "HELLO WORLD"
30 END

Waxing nostalgic for days when life was supposedly simpler afer an all day migration from Vista to Windows 7, I took note of all the expensive geeky "must have" hardware items that have been purchased and subsequenty trashed. I sold my old Apple ][ setup for $2000 for a leg up on a IBM 286 Machine running at 6mz. I remember my first hard drive, all 20 mb of it. That's mb, folks, about the size of 7 or 8 MP3s. There were EGA monitors, dual-sided 5 ¼" floppy disks, zip drives, dot matrix printers with tractor paper, 2 mb memory expansion modules , 300 baud modems ...

>RUN
> HELLO WORLD

One Two Three Four

2009-11-20T17:06:00.004-05:00

On XM Radio, Sirrius XM Radio, or whatever the hell they call it now, I was tuned into the Underground Garage Band station and heard the gawd awful but catchy tune by The Grass Roots entitled Let's Live for Today. The hook, "na na na na na na live for today." is preceded by a count of "one, two three, four" that is probably finest segment of the record.

People (I consider myself one) seem to be sucked in by "1234" being sung or spoken in a song. Take Feists's appropriately titled 1234. Like it or not, it can get into your head. Is it a need to get our minimal daily allotment of mathematics or the need for those with no sense of rhythm to be guided into the proper beat? I don't know but there are maybe hundreds of tunes that feature 1234. Mostly it is found at the start of the track. like in the Ramones' Rockaway Beach.

I particularly like Sam the Sham's Spanish intro to the start of the Tex-Mex classic Wooly Bully.

Don't forget Springsteen's Born to Run.

Gee, wouldn't it be cool to compile a play list of the best songs that have 1234? No? Then bite me. Otherwise, comment here or on Twitter with your submissions and I will put together a play list on this very blog with your entries. Promise.

Previously Untitled

2009-09-26T17:18:00.007-04:00

This nation is desperate for entertainment

I only remember three stories from the glut of pablum that passed for news last week. Is this a trend, or just a side trip into the land of the weird and disturbing?

1. Tom Delay was on Dancing with the Stars I do not watch the show, but avoiding this clip was as difficult as securing one's home with duct tape during a biological attack. Delay all but assured that I will not warm up to the idea of gay sex. He went a step further and has dampened my appetite for straight sex. Knowing what this guy's ass looks like and not knowing if Iran is developing nukes for malevolent purposes bothers me.

2. Some woman plans to wear a different dress every day for a year. That's not very hard. Maybe there's more to this, but didn't delve into the details. (insert smartassed misogynystic comment here)

3. Then there's the MacKenzie Phillips thing. What people will so or say to sell a book these days. I can see incest experts lining up to appear on Oprah, Larry King and the like to help people come to grips with this problem. I'm punching Dr. Phil in anticipation of his efforts to capitalize on the new fad.

2009-09-13T21:31:00.007-04:00

There is nothing funny about a stroke.

I was confident that I could mine a bit of humorous material from my Labor Day Weekend incident, but I have abandoned the idea. I'm not offended when friends joke that my bumper-car approach to problem solving shrouded the effects of my stroke. I'm more concerned for those in my ward who did not bounce back from their strokes and are facing long rehabilitation.

Some are curious as to just what it's like to have a stroke. I wish I could tell you. I was almost oblivious to the situation. I thought I was perhaps just having an off day and crashing my car, forgetting where I was, and not being able to locate letters on my keyboard were simply due to lack of sleep or a reaction of some sort. Only after I was finally ~~convinced to voluntarily check in~~ driven by ambulance to the hospital that I thought that maybe I belonged there.

As is turns out, I had thousands of microscopic strokes. My vision was effected, with me literally not being able to see straight. My mind would go completely blank for a minute or two, I could not tell time or dial a phone. While various neurological tests were undergone, I started snapping out of the perplexing funk. After one week in captivity, I was released and almost all the vestiges of the attack have disappeared.

The worst part of the seven-day hospital visit turned out to be the best.

I need Xanax to deal with tight spaces like airplane cabins or even sitting in the middle of a row at a concert. I made damn sure I was loaded up for the MRI scan. There wasn't enough Xanax on the planet. I declared "I can't do this!" with such urgency that they pulled me out of the tube at once. A nurse came down and arranged for a special injection of a magic potion. Ten minutes later, I was groovin' to the cool sounds inside the tube. If an MRI is in your future, go the claustrophobia route. When the scan was over I wanted to go again. Drugs rule.

So that's all I have. I'll try to get back to posting via social media. I have plenty of catching up to do.

Dog Derby

2009-08-29T15:49:00.007-04:00

Being cute will not save you.

I almost sent for Winston Wolf (Pulp Fiction fixer) to clean up this mess. I'm pretty damned proud of myself for taking control of the situation without resorting to desperate means.

I had five dogs in my happy home for most of yesterday. These would be:

1. Bosco - our resident male Tibetan Spaniel. I've imprinted my personality on him. We thus have a dog who is fiercely independent and doesn't cotton to disturbances in his daily regimen.

2. Smooch - The grand old girl and Bosco's big sister. She calls the shots for all things dog. Part diva, part matriarch, part assassin; she requires one's full attention and all the food you can shove her way.

3. Wendy - She came for in an overnighter. She's been here before and acts better than our dogs (#1 and #2). She's a Golden Retriever and we often fail to account for her relatively large frame. She asks that people fulfill her needs by wedging her massive head onto your lap. It's frustrating for Wendy and us because we don't, try as we may, properly respond to her prompts.

4. Spirit - The neighbor Chihuahua is here for a week. In a word, she's spoiled. She wasted no time making herself at home and is not shy about intruding on dogs #1,2, and 3's space.

5. Paco - Also a chihuahua from the neighbor, he's young and brash. Nervous and active, he may be a candidate for a doggy Xanax.

Wendy arrived Thursday evening and outside of feasting on a pair of underwear that I carelessly failed to hamper during a shower, she was no problem at all. Later the chihuahuas were dropped off. Los perros are immediately intimidated and retreat to their bed in fear of Wendy and the foreign environment. Then Wendy gets rescued. This must be like when the tough guy is bailed out of the county lock up. The chihuahuas make their move. The little heathens tear around the house, and have scattered all the dog toys about. It was cute at first, but at 3:00 a.m.it was getting old. They did not stop to go out for piss breaks, instead they let loose on the run. Bosco and Smooch are able to shut this out and are sound asleep with my dear wife. I'm on pee pee patrol and trying to localize the mayhem by shutting off rooms. I'm afraid Smooch is going to be rudely jarred from her sleep and murder (justifiably) one of the little demons. With no help, I'm being routed.

I'm up today and the mayhem continues. The wife is not here ( she owes me big time for abandoning me in a time of need) and my dogs are not interested in intervening. Spirit takes a leak on the carpet and I, without regard to the feelings of the neighbor's precious pets, give Spirit all kinds of hell for the "accident" and swoop her up, set her in the grass and wait until she pees again before offering any praise. Paco is stunned. He sheepishly, slinks outdoors. Bosco and Smooch take the opportunity to browse about the yard and walk past the two midgety dogs and shoot them a disdainful look.

All is well now. I don't care how adorable you are. Mess with my stuff or pee on my floor and you pay the price. Word is out. Don't screw with the alpha dog.

Let it be known.

2009-08-26T18:18:00.004-04:00

I do not like being an overnight house guest.

The experience makes me miserable. That's right, this is all about me. The discomfort starts with me knowing that I am intruding. No matter how much you tell me otherwise, you'd rather have me stay over at the Marriott. Even if the room is costing upwards to$200, I am not going to use your home to save money. There's a reason the hotel charges what it does. I'm a $200 pain-in-the-ass. It's a bargain.

The rest is about control. I know of no one who stays up later than me. What am I going to do with myself if you turn in at 10? I may want to watch TV all night, or raid your refrigerator. If I carry on like normal, you will not get a good night's sleep. I might add that I sleep in. Don't wake me up at the crack of dawn and feed me breakfast, or talk to me, or look at me. I require coffee, a newspaper, and quiet. I start each day by rearranging my balls, scratching my butt, taking a long whiz with the door open and stumbling to my paper and black coffee. No, I don't want cream or sweetener. That's for the weak. Besides, your coffee is probably not nearly strong enough, is served in a cup (as opposed to a mug) and perhaps has some not-as-God-intended flavor to it like vanilla.

Then there's my mysophobia. It's not quite the severity that was experienced by Howard Hughes, but just enough to pique my already rising anxiety level. I feel as bad about me having my ass on your toilet and wiping my infested hands on your towels just as much as I wonder if your fixtures and linens are clean. Sure, the Marriott presents the same issues, but I know, as a paying customer that I can call them out on this. It would certainly hurt your feelings if I mentioned your lackluster effort in maintaining a sterile environment. The biological remnants of my visit are certainly no joy to you.

It's your rules. Your routine. Your schedule. Your habits. You have a right to live in your castle as you see fit. No matter how accommodating you may be or not be, I am stressed. No matter what you do, I think your actions are driven by my presence.

What I'd like is to meet up with you, go eat somewhere ( I buy) , let you show me around town, have some drinks during a long overdue chat. When the evening closes, I go back to my room and reflect on the great day we shared. You can go home and do what you normally do.

See you tomorrow, my friend, but not before noon.

Oddly enough, I don't mind having overnight guests. You get the run of the house and I do whatever I normally do. I show you where the loose food is and afford you a private bathroom and a TV in your bedroom. All I ask is that you buy dinner.

I'm Doing Great. Bite Me!

2009-08-24T19:22:00.007-04:00

The problem with a blog with a title that suggests a stream of grumbling, carping, bitching, pissing, moaning, sniping, ranting, and constant complaining, is that when life is treating you well and / or the meds are doing their job, there is litttle to say that is germane to the theme.

Going by lack of material on Harrumph, Harrumph , one may think I'm in the midst of a halcyon era. This is not the case. I'm simply taking all in stride these days.

There are always necons milling around making audacious statements that have me shaking my head like a can of paint. Where they get Nazi out of a moderate and accommodating leader is beyond me. Congress still operates under a system where bribery is legal through lobbyists. Our troops and contracted killers still patrol foreign lands.

Around home, I gimped around on a sore knee for two months before finally being diagnosed as having arthritis. It hurts, but I can handle it.

Each sojourn to Meijer or Wal-Mart spawns annoying circumstances. The latest being a lady leaving the self-serve lane to go back into the bowels of the store for a forgotten item.

My happy engine is dialed in. I am experiencing just enough annoyance and conflict to keep me motivated and sharp. I've managed to casually solve the day-to-day problems with minimal stress. I've been making the right decisions. I'm on a roll.

The last thing someone wants to read is how wonderful I am doing while they are battling through a shit storm. This is why I've had little to say. I guarantee that these days won't last. My prosaic mood will fade and my capricious nature will return as will the entertaining posts.
------

Fucking unicorn! Get out of my yard. You're scaring away the butterflies and stomping on my flowers.

See.

Too much time on my hands

2009-08-01T16:01:00.003-04:00

Is wasting time possible in eternity?

This question reared its head today. I jumped all over the tasks I had planned for the day and knocked them out by 2:30 this afternoon. Nothing is slated until tonight, so that leaves me with about 3-4 hours to do anything that I please. I don't want to read a book, because I have a boatload of problems to solve next week that can't be acted upon until Monday. I don't like being interrupted for more than a day or two part way through a reading. I'm not motivated to drag out a guitar , tune it, and evaluate what eroded skills, if any, I still possess. My knee hurts, so jumping on the treadmill is out. It's becoming evident that I don't want to do anything. These are just weak excuses.

This is not the case when I have limited free time. I'll get more enjoyment out of 20 minutes in the middle of an action-packed day than I will during stretches like I'm now facing. So what's it like in eternity? Not a cosmological eternity, but a rendered down, simplified, popular notion of eternity.? (The wings and harp scenario, for example) If today is any indication, trying to fill 50 million years with gratifying activities would not suit me.

New Shoes: The Paolo Nutini Experience

2009-07-27T23:58:00.013-04:00

Right out of the chute, Paolo Nutini jumps on his early hit, "New Shoes". The mix is bass heavy and somewhat muddy, but despite the result of an obvious half-assed sound check, the crowd recognizes this song and gets moderately involved. Now what? Paolo goes with another tune off his new album that maintains the pace and fortunately the sound guy starts dialing up a bit more clarity on behalf of the talented band. Nutini's vocals are cutting though the mix. I'm enjoying myself. This is going to be a good night after all.

I had already accepted to conditions of this venue, The Vogue. The Vogue is an old neighborhood theatre that was converted many years ago into one of Indianapolis' best venues for national acts. On the plus side, smoking is banned and the ventilation is top notch. The bar service is good and security keeps things in order without being heavy handed about it. You have to be 21 to enter. Another positive. The drawback is that seating is sparse. You either have to call ahead for seats or queue up an hour or more before the show. I arrived 15 minutes before the first act came on stage and found a parking spot right across the street. I'm in the door, meet my daughter right off. She buys me a big-assed can of Foster's, and PaPa's pretty happy at this point. I don't mind standing around for a couple of hours, especially when I'm only 30- 40 feet from the stage.

The opening act is Matt Hires knocking out a few pleasant acoustic numbers. The second performer is Erin McCarley. She was restricted to her guitar and a few synth sounds. She may be a headliner one day, same for Hires. The predominately young female audience was here for the dreamy Paolo Nutini, so Erin did not get the props she deserved.

So Nutini finished the two snappy numbers and went into one of his soulful ballads. In my opinion, this is where he shines. The mix is still not what it should be and numerous people are talking like this is a cocktail party and the band is merely providing background music. But hey, the venue is like a party with folks standing around, drinks in hand, and with good friends. Let's just say that Nutini could not overcome obstacles of The Vogue on many of his subtle offerings.

The sound finally gets fixed and the rolling bass is gone. Nutini warms up, and I have found good value for my ticket price. Paolo Nutini worked hard to deliver a top notch show. He had a smokin' band behind him and finished strong. "Jenny Don't Be Hasty" during the 5 song encore was the highlight of the evening.

A couple of notes:

During the show, a random drunk appears out of nowhere and points at me and starts laughing about my lethargic demeanor. The diminutive fucker is no threat to me. I'm more surprised than insulted. He babbles on for a few seconds while I go into Anton Chigurh mode and stare at him. I finally point to the back of the room and he ambles along. There but for 1 mg of Xanax, nothing came of this bizarre encounter.

There was one fellow whose head was so big, it looked like a stop sign was erected in front of the stage. My daughter remarked that this wasn't a head, rather a planet.

Speaking of obstructed views, many of the petite ladies strained to elevate enough to see the handsome singer. Nutini, however insisted on singing out of a crouch early in the show. He looked like was looking for a lost contact lens he was so low. Anyone under 5'5" was not seeing the dude.

I think Paolo Nutini was either stoned or else hammered on the Corona he was gulping down.

Cate's Game 7-11

2009-07-11T02:35:00.003-04:00

Hard weeks make for better weekends.

In the wake

2009-07-10T20:45:00.009-04:00

The big week for celebrity deaths has flushed a few of my latent ideas on related subjects to the surface. To the best of my recollection, these are some of the utterances that were heard in my home as I learned of the passing of McMahon, Mays, Fawcett, Jackson, and others.

1. Michael Jackson's golden casket.
What a waste of money! Once lowered into the ground no one is going to see it, even Jackson, himself. If his estate gets low on funds, can they exhume the body and swap it out for something more affordable like a Tupperware coffin ? People waste too much money of funerals. Personally, if someone bitches about the low quality of my casket, that's their problem. My survivors will appreciate the extra inheritance.

2. Billy Mays
He was a fixture on my most punchable list. When he was on the Pitchmen show, I began to realize that he was just a guy trying to make a living and the grating demeanor was his shtick. I already miss the fellow. Sorry, pal.

3. Why are we mourning people we don't know?
The past week, many people lost mothers, fathers, wives, children, and close friends. Spending more time making things to place on a celeb's memorial than you do honoring your own is fundamentally wrong.

4. The news coverage of Jackson was deplorable.
I felt sorry for his close family (Except for that sleaze ball father of his) to have to endure the public spectacle. ...and it continues.

5. I do not believe that
what happens to your container (body) after you die is of any importance. It can be disposed of any safe manner with no consequence in any possible afterlife. If it comes to pass that you get more life and your body back at some point, some physicists agree that matter and energy can be reconstructed to a previous state. Being eaten by a shark or preserved in Lenin's tomb, or vaporized in an atomic blast makes no difference.

6. Al Sharpton
I thought the hyperbole of Michael Jackson's super powers got a little out of hand when he was credited with somehow advancing civil rights and racial harmony in the country and around the world. This is total bullshit! His performances had wide appeal, but he didn't get into vigorously pushing for the social and political changes that have made life today a bit better than the days of old. This is not a knock on MJ. He was a flat-out great entertainer and made many people happy for a number of years. That's what he did. The remoras like Al Sharpton sicken me with their self serving and demonstrative accolades. The man will not champion a cause that advances all of humanity. Instead he lurked in the shadows waiting for an opportunity to exploit a popular Black man to pimp his narrow political agenda.

Founding Father

2009-07-04T12:49:00.002-04:00

Thomas Jefferson did not shoot fireworks.

We be dum

2009-07-01T15:41:00.006-04:00

As usual, an innocuous trip to the local store supplies me with fodder for a blog update.

I was waiting for my prescription to be filled and meandered into the toy section. I was curious to see if there were any new family games on the retail shelves. There wasn't. I did see something that was moderately disturbing.

I am aware that Monopoly comes in all flavors these days. In fact, I have a Simpsons version. I also realized that the game has been released as a computer game. which invites online play and computer opponents. No problem with that either. The version that had me cursing the stupidity of the masses did not have Monopoly money in it. No, no, no. Instead, the players are provided credit cards and and a hand held balance calculator to keep track of their assets. No math skills required. No having to make change. No banker. As many of us will attest, Monopoly helped us hone our skills in handling money and involved mental arithmetic skills. I wouldn't be shocked to see the game tally the pips on the dice an show you where to put your marker.

Just another example of the dumbing down of America.

Horror at the Apple Store.

2009-06-22T21:45:00.005-04:00

The rub was this. My iPod dock wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. That is, not powering my iPods. No problem, as I have another dock, but a problem because my iPod Touch will drop from the wireless network after 30 minutes on battery power. I like to stream Last FM and Radio Paradise to my home theatre sound system, but don't like having to reset the connection twice each hour.

I take the docking unit to the Apple store.

Egads. There are two lines formed outside the storefront. People are STILL going ape shit over the 3GS iPhone. One line was to buy a phone and the other was for those seeking permission to enter the store. I truthfully stated that all I wanted was an answer to my docking problem. I was directed to the I-am-not-getting-a-phone-today line. A couple of people were allowed to go right into the store. Just as if this was a hot club and only A-List people were invited to enter. A guy in shorts and a tee shirt who did a half-assed job of shaving his face doesn't fit the big spender profile, so lying and saying I wanted the biggest and most expensive Mac on the planet wouldn't have had legs anyway. The wait was a mere 10 minutes and I got a free bottle of water. The clerk wasn't much help, but he did test the dock and said it was fine.

But this wasn't the horror suggested by this post's title. Not even close. What I saw while waiting in line will stay with me for years. I wanted to take a picture so badly, but I didn't have the stones . Besides that, the picture would have been quickly dismissed by skeptics. I will attempt to describe what I saw.

I saw this girl who had the darkest tan I have ever seen. She's scantily dressed to show off her nice figure and bronze skin. At first this made the wait more bearable, but as my male eyes check out this lovely lady from the bottom up, my jaw literally drops, and I immediately mouth an F-bomb. It seems that this dear girl has failed to tan her neck and head. Her facial skin is somewhat pasty and she has dyed her hair blond. Imagine if you will some little girl had ripped the head of her Black Barbie and replaced it with another Barbie head with the skin tone of Andy Warhol. Perfect head, perfect body. In combination - a mythical beast.

I hope I didn't gawk too long at her and come off as a drooling pervert. How could such a contrast between skin tones be achieved? Was she too tall for the tanning bed? Was she dipped into brown dye up to her neck? Head transplant?

...and no I'm not so desperate to post on this blog that I would made this shit up.

I saw her.

One week later

2009-06-20T20:58:00.002-04:00

No meat found in Saturday sandwich.

Six Word Saturday - June 13

2009-06-13T10:18:00.004-04:00

My life: Better than my dreams.

Travel Tips for the Pragmatist (Part I)

2009-06-11T19:36:00.013-04:00

Vacationing with family and friends can be a rewarding experience. Can be. Can be in the land of unicorns and fairies. For me, a group of 4 is the maximum sized travel group that I can endure. Over that and it's a recipe for a fiasco. Three is better and two is almost ideal. I am capable of striking out alone and enjoying myself, so one is no problem. Loners can see plenty and do not have to compromise their fun.

TM's Law: At any given time, you are only as fast as the slowest person in the group.

Speed, of course is the only criteria for a good outing, trip, or vacation. I do contend, however, that the more people you have on the trip, the less fun you will have. Trying to find Aunt Flossie so you can go to dinner, or not hitting the beach right away because Cousin Hank forgot his sun screen, will have a negative effect on your vacation enjoyment.

I have undergone much research on the matter and have mathematically derived what I call the Aggravation Index which is based on the total number of people that are traveling as a unit.

The formula is simple: A = n! That being, Aggravation index equals the number of people in a group, factorial.

one person carries an AI of 1.

two people and the AI doubles to a barely perceptible 2 (2 x 1)

With three, the AI jumps to n=3 or 6 (3 x 2 x 1)

Packs of fours punch the index all the way up to my limit of 24 (4 x 3 x 2 x 1)

Basketball team sized crews bump the AI to 120 (5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1)

Try roaming around with 6 people and aggravation index is red-lining for most at 720 (6 x 5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1)

Skipping ahead, A 10-person herd will ratchet up the AI to a mind-boggling 10! or 3,628,800

As the potty breaks, moments of indecision, stragglers, and the inevitable arguments mount, the AI rises and the vacation itself is in jeopardy. More people equals more factors equals more permutations.

This formula does seems to exaggerate the negative impact of each additional member. Remember though, that factored in is the reality that you will not likely find everyone in your tribe to be of like mind on what to see or do. You may want to spend an hour photographing the elephants, but some other travel companion may want to watch the feces fight at the monkey house . Person C may not want to be at the zoo at all.

The math doesn't lie.

Equal Time

2009-06-09T22:38:00.002-04:00

Smooch requested that I post about her today. She's an tough old girl that covers the waterfront around here. Anything or anyone strange to her that enters her perimeter is asking for trouble. If she gets to know someone, they will be a friend forever. This is a picture of Smooch looking through the slats in the fence at the neighbors' chihuahuas, Spirit and Paco. Spirit is her BFF.

A Dog Named Cheese

2009-06-07T21:17:00.006-04:00

Bosco is a rascal.

Getting Bosco indoors so we can leave the house proves difficult. He picks up clues that we will soon be driving away and leaving him alone with his sister. At the last moment he decides to go outside to pee. He's holding all the cards and he knows it.

Calling out "Bos - Co!" to get him back inside may or may not work. I never knew why this dog who understands scores of words and phrases would not grasp the most basic of commands. When we whisper the word Cheese, for example, he charges into the kitchen looking for a small pinch of cheddar. The joke is that maybe he actually thinks his name is Cheese.

I figured this out just the other day. Bosco can follow relatively complex directions. If I tell him, "Bosco, get in the house.", he rushes right inside without hesitation. So why does his so-called call name fail to rouse him?

When I say his name he must be waiting for more information.

"Bos -co!"

"Yes, my name is Bosco, what do you want?"

"Bosco, get in the house"

"Sure, why didn't you say so?"

It's that simple.

Think Tank

2009-06-06T14:41:00.003-04:00

Epiphany usually occurs while taking shower.

Confused

2009-06-02T18:45:00.013-04:00

When we went to the Ani DiFranco concert a few weeks ago, I knew going in that Ani has a large following among lesbians. The audience confirmed this. We were one of the few opposite-sexed couples (Prejean and her NOM shitheads are back on my punch list by the way. ) in the house. You do not have to be gay to enjoy Ani DiFranco and you are certainly not gay if you do. My wife and I thought it was a tremendous show.

My musical tastes are somewhat diverse. Country, rock, alternative (whatever the hell that means), folk, soul, oldies, bluegrass, rap, hip-hop, reggae, ska are all represented on my iPod. So being an Ani DiFranceo fan certainly isn't any more of an indication of who I am no more than grooving on Wyclef Jean makes me Haitian. Right?

There may be more to this. Itunes always alerts me when gay pride play lists are released. I'm cool with my manly-man demeanor and raging heterosexuality. I clicked through.

Melisa Ferrick, Mary Gauthier, Tracy Chapman, Tegan and Sara, Dusty Springfield, Chris Pureka, The Gossip, Catie Curtis, Annie Lennox! ... The list of my favorite artists goes on and on. Maybe there's something to this. Even a Rachel Maddow app. was available and I never miss her show.

So I check the list for gay men. Meh. Only the Scissor Sisters and a couple of old Elton John tunes are in my music library. As I suspected, not my style.

It appears that I'm profiled as a 35-year old lesbian. Well, I apparently embrace the culture, if there is such a thing. Is the GLBT community's taste in music a myth and a stereotype? Do most older gay men like show tunes, for example? I see many senior citizens driving big silver Buicks. I suspect that dudes that who wear mullets like classic rock. There are hardly any people of color at NASCAR races. Should people be offended that iTunes tries to define us because of the music we enjoy?

ITunes can keep sending me these suggestions. I've found some terrific music this way. Maybe I'm a lesbian trapped inside a man's body. Maybe I just happen to like edgy tunes by female vocalists. Whatever, the case, I'm going with it. You feelin' me, my sisters?

P.S. Project Runway is one of my favorite TV shows.

Bombastic

2009-05-31T21:50:00.005-04:00

I am as guilty as anyone else. I've been feeding my intellect with far too many unwholesome snacks. Snacks come in the form of Twitter updates, sound bites, video clips, one-liners, quips, bumper stickers, T-shirts, skinnies, fortune cookies, blurbs, and slogans. Folks just don't seem to take the time needed to fully explore issues properly. Enterprise stories in newspapers are far and few between. (Newspapers may soon become far and few between) On television, Outside of of shows like Frontline on PBS, there isn't that much meat. Political shows present mere talking points and argue them ad nauseum.

The danger of all this is that our politcal opinions are often based on shallow information and little understanding of the total situation. No wonder our political conversations come off like a Henny Youngman routine. If that's the way it's going to be, I'm now going to aim my buttocks toward the sky like those plasma shooting beetles in Starship Troopers and rip off a few nuggets of my own.

Here goes. In my social/ political utopia:

1. All USA students are required to be fluent in a second language.
2. Marijuana is legal.
3. Churches have to pay taxes like any other business.
4. Artists and scientists are pictured on our money, not just politicians.
5. Medical care is free (socialized, if you will)
6. Schools are not viewed as day-care facilities. Short student days. More emphasis on parent involvement.
7. Each athletic scholarship granted by a college must be matched by 3 academic scholarships to students of the same high school
8. Flat tax for all. No local or state taxes.
9. No blackout rules for televised sports.
10. Only one boxing champion per weight class.
11. Free wireless everywhere.
12. No censorship.
13. Race, gender, sexual preference and nationality are all non-issues.
14. Mandatory military or social service for those of ages 19-21.
15. Consensual fist fights are an acceptable means of resolving personal disputes
16. All Cable / Satellite TV stations can be selected ala carte.
17. Salary cap for MLB.
18. Fox news must include a laugh track.
19. Neckties go the way of spats and hats.
20. Children under 13 tethered to parents in public places.

Procrastination

2009-05-30T16:22:00.003-04:00

Writing task lists wastes valuable time.

Fading Fast

2009-05-29T20:52:00.003-04:00

I accepted the NaBloPoMo challenge this month in hopes of jump starting my blog activity. The challenge is to update the blog every day for a month. I should have done this in February, rather than in May. I face three more days instead of being finished.

I was reminded today that I had more readers than I realized. I was restricting comments too tightly and as a result, I was getting minimal feedback. This may be the encouragement I need to push through until the end. I've now opened up comments to Ellis Island level. Any and all are welcome. The good news for the few who are kind enough to read this running diatribe is that I will go back to maybe 8 or 9 quality posts per month and there will be less filler.

My "A" material is being broadcast on Twitter, which has made it difficult to muster 31 good ideas for this month. I was going to write about people who let their kids run wild in public. I'm saving it for a feature length entry later this summer. Too good of a subject to waste on a Friday night quickie.

I had hoped to write about my doggies and get some new pictures up. Bosco and Smooch were too busy fussing over the neighbor's chihuahuas and wouldn't hold still. All I have are a few blurry butt shots of them.

Folks, this beer is going down REAL easy tonight and I have some quality TV to watch. Better that you read my Twitter timeline, which will serve as my entry for today.

@GuiltyBystander 52 year old cigar? They must have not sold very well.about 1 hour ago from web in reply to GuiltyBystander

@jsttmfb Little fuckers. I'll keep that in mind. Don't want to offend one of them and get bit on a buttock.about 1 hour ago from web in reply to jsttmfb

Undomesticated dogs of mine won't cooperate for back yard photo shoot.about 3 hours ago from web

@cln0103 Thanks for the follow back. Followed from @LazyBuddhist #ff list. I have empathy for folks with urges to punch people.about 3 hours ago from web in reply to cln0103

@superbadgirl A replacement DVD of Dexter? Mace? Pumps with 5-inch heels for tottering around the mall? Full sized 'rita glasses?about 3 hours ago from web in reply to superbadgirl

@returntorural Props to your sis. Meaty degree too. Refreshing to see.about 4 hours ago from web

@PrincessAndy Do not go into a weekend with unfinished business. Get all your punching out of the way before this evening.about 4 hours ago from web in reply to PrincessAndy

@112mirabela Thanks. Open ID is an option. No wonder comments are far and few between.about 5 hours ago from web in reply to 112mirabela

@112mirabela That google only comment rules is their doing. It's not a restriction I chose. Maybe I should rant about it?about 5 hours ago from web in reply to 112mirabela

@112mirabela Back atcha. The sun have must be shining over the whole planet today.about 6 hours ago from web in reply to 112mirabela

Stayed up until 8:30 a.m. watching 'The Wire' Have to get out and enjoy the rest of this bright sunny day.about 6 hours ago from web

@superbadgirl No more unkind than me wishing guys wearing $100 ties wiould get them caught in a car door.about 6 hours ago from web in reply to superbadgirl

@LazyBuddhist Appreciate the #followfriday. Thank You.about 6 hours ago from web in reply to LazyBuddhist

Dropped a beer bottle on garage floor. It did not break. Worried that this is the opening scene of a Twilight Zone episode.about 22 hours ago from web

Repressed

2009-05-28T01:56:00.007-04:00

The way products revolving around sex are presented in their television commercials annoys me. These products can be about nothing but sex. The pitch comes off as juvenile and naughty. Straight, mature, talk would be less offending. I don't require silly euphemisms. Tell me what your wares can do for me in no uncertain terms. I cannot be embarrassed. I'm not here to be titillated. Talk to me. I'm an adult.

Actors speak about sexual subjects with the same nervous apprehension as those in 'polite society' Never mind that it's 3 a.m. and I've been watching an uncut Comedy Central show . The commercial still has to go to ridiculous lengths to skirt the subject matter in order not to offend any viewers.

The ad for Enzyte has this... this... woman coming on my TV with her smirky-assed grin. In a cooing voice she tells you how these sugar pills, or whatever the fuck they are, will help enlarge "that certain part of the male anatomy." I just want to punch her. Lady, Just say, "It will make your penis bigger and as a result girls seeking big penises will now have sex with you. ."

Then there's these two gals giggling it up because of Trojan's Vibrating Touch. As far as I can tell, the vibrating touch is a retrofitted joy-buzzer that aids in masturbation. Fine. I can see where that would come in handy when your work break is only five minutes long and there are hot dudes like me walking about your office. I just can't take the embarrassed twittering about these ladies' use of the product. Even the senior female chimes in that she's a satisfied customer herself. More girl giggles. A side issue: If a man is caught punching the clown on the job, wouldn't he be cast out for being a perve? Anyway, why isn't there mention of how this product is superior to other methods of self pleasure. I want charts. I want statistics. Maybe a graphic or two.

Girls Gone Wild: College girls lifting their shirts and revealing a blurry chests for 30 straight minutes gets a bit tiresome. In fact, college girls lifting their shirts for 30 straight minutes and revealing their nipples may get a bit tiresome. And what's this fixation with "coeds"? I don't know of any data that says higher education results in firmer, rounder, or perkier breasts. Will beating one's meat to these DVDs result than a higher IQ for the end user? I am puzzled by the selling point of "This time we've gone too far!" Naked is naked. Maybe going too often is more accurate. I'm of the opinion that one DVD can be considered a lifetime supply of GGW material. Maybe that's why we have the blurry chests. If one DVRed the commercial with the entire chest revealed then there would be no reason to buy the whole DVD.

Rock Around the Clock

2009-05-27T16:01:00.007-04:00

Whenever possible, I listen to music.

In the car, while the house, while working on the computer, sometimes just sitting and listening. I ahve something playing almost all day long.

I now listen to music ALL NIGHT LONG. I stream Radio Paradise or Last FM through my iPod Touch and wireless network . The earbuds I use completely block out the sounds of snoring dogs, passing motorcycles, cat nookie, and other household noises. I've been sleeping very well for the last few days.

Radio Paradise does throw in a jarring tune on occasion and my sleep is mildly interrupted. Last night I tried something new. I picked up an iPod app (White Noise) that plays ambient sounds. It took a few trials before I settled on Airplane Travel. I sleep on planes mostly because of the fistful of Xanax I down before a flight. I only dropped one last night. The abundance of leg room on my virtual flight and the absence of flight attendants, or talking passengers made up for the low level dose.

Zonk.
8 straight hours on a flight to nowhwere in particular. Ah.

I may try Camp Fire tonight. The ocean and stream selections are good but make me want to get up and pee. I think there are 40 sound selections. I'm also working on a play list of sleepy time music. In any case, my insomnia and / or irregular sleep schedule may by finally corrected thanks to my trusty iPod Touch.

Film of the Decade

2009-05-26T21:42:00.003-04:00

Each decade seems to have a film indelibly tied to it. In most of these movies an attempt is made to show modern people of the time in their natural habitat. These accidental period pieces are the prodigies of the prevailing pop culture.

1950s - Rebel Without A Cause. I think I heard the term Daddy'O in this one. If not, it was certainly implied.

1960s - Doctor Strangelove - Forget the Beach Blanket Bingo crowd. This Kubrick masterpiece captures the mindset of the decade.

1970s - Saturday Night Fever - The political impetus of the 60s fizzles out and this is what we have in terms of residue. Sucked. But so did the 70s.

1980s - We have a tie. Desperately Seeking Susan and Wall Street. Respectively, Those who didn't give a shit and the reason why they didn't give a shit. (The brick Michael Douglas talked into is worth a good laugh today. )

1990s - Clueless - Seems like all the other movies of the day were period films. Once again watch the cell phones and you'll have a clue about this 1995 release,

2000s - So far it seems to be all cartoons or comic book hero fare. Take your pick from one of the Bourne films and their ilk. Gadgets vs. terrorists seems to be the theme so far this century.

More odds and ends

2009-05-25T19:47:00.003-04:00

1. I'm thinking of shutting down my Facebook account. I have my hands full in the way of social media with two-business related discussion groups, blogs , and the preferred Twitter. I appreciate the few folks who took the time to find my bare-bones front page on Facebook. I contribute nothing, which makes me appear to be rude. I doubt if I'll be missed.

2. Kahn's Fine Wines is the best place in the universe. Hyperbole? I think not. The selection wine, beer, and spirits is vast. The staff is knowledgeable and I also seem to get in a discussion with fellow customers about which beer or Scotch to try next.

3. Speaking of beer. Sarah, Brenden and I played a short game. The idea was to come up with exotic beer names that might be brewed by notorious people. Sarah won hands down with Ted Kaczynski's "Montana Manifesto Pale Ale"

4. Where I'd like to be right now? Sitting on a craggy bluff in Northern California with dear wife, eating smoked salmon, drinking Laphraoig, and silently looking out over the Pacific Ocean.

Thank You

2009-05-24T20:46:00.004-04:00

http://www.destroyerhistory.org/desron12/introduction_1.html

6WS

2009-05-23T14:50:00.003-04:00

Found old Bible in recycle bin.

What transpired

2009-05-22T23:01:00.006-04:00

Went to Binkley's on 54th and Keystone. I wanted to go anywhere that was lively. Meh. Wasn't lively enough. The food was just fine but the drinks were sold at ballpark prices. A 23 oz Blue Moon ran $7.25. Frakken Bill Gates couldn't get a buzz on at that rate.

I insisted on continuing the night at Chatham Tap on Mass. Avenue. More like it. My lady escorts had dessert chased by coffee spiked with Bailey's. I downed 3 glasses of Gaffel Kölsch. This is what I had in mind. Could have skipped the first destination altogether.

Back home. Beer 5 or 6 is that point in the evening where you have to decide to either call it a night or go on a serious bender. Beer 7 is the point of no return. I put it up for a vote. Lost 2 to 1 despite filibuster.

Here I sit, telling my tale

Unknown Location

2009-05-22T17:16:00.002-04:00

We are going somewhere tonight. We are going to eat and have a few drinks. Where? No idea. We will be picking up a friend in Broad Ripple and then go to this place. We are picking her up some time after 6:30. On one hand this is an adventure. One the other hand, it's a recipe for disaster ending up at Burger King and a liquor store. Tonight's destination is not being kept a secret , but rather it's a case three people crippled by indecision. Follow up post coming later tonight.

Idea for a new restaurant chain: Dick Cheney's Unknown Location.

Swoon

2009-05-21T20:02:00.006-04:00

Swoon is the new release by Silversun Pickups.

I've listened to the entire album* every night for the last week. I take the iPod to bed with me and fall off to sleep shortly afterwards. The soundscape produced by the lush mix is hypnotic. This is not New Age music. Swoon rocks hard. The tracks are heavy on drums and bass. The structure of each song is not limited to theme and variation on a single groove in the style of, say, a band like Spoon. The sound is thickly layered, yet each instrument has clarity. maintaining a crispness where one would expect a muddy result. Swoon is an amazing audio engineering feat. The music is good, too. It is composed, not simply written.

This is one of those albums that need to by listened to from start to finish in one sitting and with headphones or earbuds. Listening to one track off your car's Sirius XM radio will probably leave you cold as will iTune's 30-second sample. I would not recommend playing Swoon at a lively party. It won't make you want to get up and dance This is music that requires your attention.

In all aspects, Swoon is a work of art.

other reviews:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/nm63

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2009/04/album-review-silversun-pickups-swoon.html

http://music.ign.com/articles/973/973146p1.html

*albums get there name from the days when a recorded body of work, like a symphony, required multiple 78 rpm records. The discs came stored in a bound volume of sleeves that resembled a photo album.

Unrequitted

2009-05-20T17:37:00.006-04:00

I admitted to my neice that I enjoy watching Project Runway. She quickly shot back, "Well Gah!, I know why. Heidi Klum." She had me. Heidi Klum is a draw and a small part of the reason I don't miss an episode of the show.. Easy to look at, wicked sense of humor, intelligent. Come on, who wouldn't have a crush on her?

These aren't my nominations for Maxim's 100 hottest women on the planet. I just happen to be smiiten. These ladies warm my heart. In realistic terms, my dear wife would gouge out my eyes and start removing vital appendages if any of these romances came to fruition. But for the record, here's' the short list (with annotation) of my dream girls.

1. Heidi Klum - fore mentioned.

2. Kari Byron - Mythbusters darling who is cute and energetic. She operates power tools, shoots rifles and drives heavy machinery.

3. Samantha Brown - Perky. Seems like the kind of girl who would insist on paying for her own meal.

4. Rachel Maddow - I like the way she talks. A truly beautiful person from what I can tell.

5. Jane Kaszmarek - Reminds me of the Polish girls in my old neighborhood.

6. Zooey Deschanel - Great eyes. Voice of an angel. Better elf than Liv Tyler.

7. Tamron Hall - The news is so much better with her.

8. Michelle Yeow - I liked her best in 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' I can't resist a lady who can kick butt.

I am so dead.

Wait Time

2009-05-19T17:54:00.005-04:00

I turned off the car radio today during a trip to a nearby medical lab. The traffic was slowed due to road construction. The wait at the packed lab was unusually long. Forgot my foil hat. Here's what the forces of evil may have picked up with their mind-scanning satellite:

Dead cricket on garage floor. It's been there since last summer. Jiminy lies in repose right under my transmission case. When I come back home, I'm not inspired to get out of the car, remove the insect, get back in the car, and park it for the night.

Missed a big swath of grass while mowing today. Meh.

Don't kids play outside anymore? Looks like the Pied Piper has paid a visit. School is out. yet no kids to be seen.

Per client, there are more handicapped parking spaces at Wal Mart than at this medical center.

The elevator in the medical center serves two floors. The control panel displays buttons indicating each of the two floors, that being "1" and "2". Everybody seems compelled to push their floor number. [Think about it]

No music is played in the lab waiting room. Reading material is sparse. The chairs are arranged around the perimeter so people are forced to look at each other. It's like a big group therapy session, except no one is talking. I'm wondering why the other folks are here.

One poor lady is missing a leg.

Being stuck in the arm does not bother me. Most everything else does. I watch in interest as my cardio vascualr system is relieved of the sample. That was quick. Waited 20 minutes for a 45-second procedure.

Hey, a band aid! C'mon I like the purple binding they usually use to hold down the cotton ball.

Pressed the "1" in the elevator.

Left the sun roof wide open. To my credit, I did lock the doors.

Sonsofbitches raised gas prices again today. I want to move to vibrant neighborhood in a big city where owning a car is unnecessary. San Francisco.

Fewer people are washing their cars . This includes me. I don't see the point of shining up my Honda every time a few raindrops fall on it. This is a good thing.

The traffic is backed up along the road cutting through two cemeteries. The grave markers on the left are from the 19th century. These people didn't live long. One fellow lasted 65 years. All the others died in their 50s.

Cell phone conversation while smoking while driving. Feel like flipping her off.

Examining the change in my cup holder. What did they do with all those annoying little 1 centime coins in France after the Euro came to be?

The weather is delightful, yet construction equipment sits idle as I drive over a clangy metal plate temporarily covering an excavation in the middle of the road.

Maybe I should clean up that spot I missed with the mower. Nah.

Parked right over the cricket again.

Saved!

2009-05-18T18:50:00.008-04:00

I was fresh out of material for today's post and only a miracle could keep me from running an old blog entry or still another report on my two rascal dogs...

Hallelujah!

I make it my business to monitor all Jeebus sightings and add my irreverent comments. Today we have JHC making an appearance in Cheetos ™ form. Once again, I repeat my contention that God, His son, and any other prophet worth their salt ain't going to lower themselves to go on the snack food circuit to feed the faith of their followers.

Besides that, how the hell do they get the idea that this particular Cheeto even remotely resembles Jesus. To me it looks like Davey Crockett shooting vermin with his flintlock. Bite off the torso, turn the snack upside down and it looks like some guy's package. Perhaps that of Davey Crockett or even Jesus himself (I assume he had one, though it's never mentioned in the Bible.)

I didn't pray for this miracle (What deity would answer such a lame-assed prayer?) , but I'll take it.

You still may be getting the animal story later this month, but for today we're covered.

I present: Cheesus

Too many pies, not enough fingers

2009-05-17T16:42:00.004-04:00

When the work is done and all matters requiring my attention are put to rest, then (and only then) am I able to enjoy leisure activities. The time is there, but I have so many hobbies and interests that I've only found the time for diversions rather than projects.

I present a brief list of neglected pastimes I should be enjoying.

1. Guitar - I used to play at least two hours per day. I have 2 6-string acoustics, a 12-string acoustic, a Fender Telecaster, and custom-built Fender Stratocaster. They sit in closet. I haven't touched them in months. My meager skills have no doubt eroded to the point of facing frustration if and when I resume playing.

2. Reading big books without pictures - I have about 20 unread books that I have acquired in the past 18 months. I was knocking off one a week during the winter, but I have had trouble lately deciding which one to read next. My reading time consists of magazines and newspapers. I have not been inclined to pick up a book and devote the hour or two minimum needed to achieve the continuity needed to finish. To top this off there are many titles I want to reread.

3. Games - I have a nice library of tabletop war and sports games. Some have yet to be played. The issue here is that I should have settled on one game and grasped the strategies needed to be successful. Instead, I am a novice player of a multitude of games. Finding opponents is difficult. Note to self: Do not buy any more games at Gen Con this summer.

The plan is to avoid the nickel and dime distractions and focus on one of these interests.

Kick Me

2009-05-16T15:21:00.003-04:00

Wasted time dreaming about today's plans.

El Jaripeo

2009-05-15T20:30:00.008-04:00

My favorite Mexican eatery is hidden far off the road in an all-but-abandoned strip mall. The exterior is not inviting to those who fear eating their burritos anywhere else but Don Pablo's or other widely advertised Mexican-themed chain restaurants. It's none too fancy inside either. The restaurant is completely staffed by Latinos, giving no comfort to xenophobes.

The place was packed tonight. El Jaripeo has a cult following among Indianapolis EastSiders. No wonder. The food is terrific, the staff is friendly, the service is top rate, and the prices are low. The fare is touted as authentic, and I have to believe it. I think some of the dishes served are on the menu for the ambivalent diners. I'm not expecting the same food one would get from a street vendor in Guadalajara, but it's about as real as it gets in Indianapolis.

I'm most impressed with the beans and the tortillas. The beans you gt here aren't the refried beans you get out of an Old El Paso can. These have flavor. I think lard is involved. Whatever the case, if they don't make them from scratch on site, I'd be shocked. Same for the tortillas. You can see the fresh scorch marks on them.

The enchiladas are excellent, but I've been going with Tacos al Pastor for the last few visits. The pork is tender, the sauce is perfect, and the side of salsa is well prepped. The salsa contains finely chopped cilantro, jalapeno pulp (not the hot seeds), tomato, onion and other goodies. I drop the taco onto the bed of rice and beans, smother it in sauce and add the salsa. I usually have a big 32 oz. Dos Equis from the tap to wash down the three generously filled tacos.

The good news is that El Jaripeo / El Rodeo has added more restaurants over the last few years. Our El Jaripeo is the original. I can't speak for the spinoffs, but if you are an eastsider and have even a drop of adventurous blood in you, and haven't eaten here . . .? What can I say?

Respite

2009-05-14T21:22:00.009-04:00

The truth of the matter is that I don't have a thing for today's blog. Normally that would result in no post at all, but I've challenged myself to post every day of this month. I did this in March 2008 and was successful. I am also determined to complete the 2010 min-marathon here in Indianapolis next May, but that's another story. I take these personal vows seriously.

The point being that I'm torn between putting up a crappy entry just to keep the May blog streak alive or drop out in shame. In the face of yesterday's sub standard article - which will be removed after the month is over (or revised) , I was hoping to come up with a real whiz-bang post today. This has caused me to reflect on Harrumph, Harrumph, which has served me well for the last 2 years.

Harrumph, Harrumph originated as Mr. Sparkle's Land of Enchantment. It was a real copy-cat title (Simpson's and The Great State of New Mexico) which made so sense whatsoever. The blog had no direction, but did seem to rely heavily on rants, diatribes, and grumbling. MSLOE was out. The name, Harrumph Harrumph, makes sense only if you have seen Blazing Saddles. The title is derived from the scene when Mel Brooks' character demands that his syncophat cabinet "Harrumphs" at the outrages befalling the state. I am easily outraged and the bolg almost writes itself. But wouldn't you know it, there haven't been any new petty annoyances today.

So we're going to the archives.
Five Peeves and a entry from the archives for each.

1. Classic Rock - Old farts listening to the same six songs that the did in 1975.
http://trmink.blogspot.com/2007/11/death-by-randy.html

2. Laws made to appease fundamentalist Christans.
http://trmink.blogspot.com/2007/09/todays-sermon.html

3. Talking Machines.
http://trmink.blogspot.com/2007/08/kaczynski-moment.html

4. Prophets and Soothsayers
http://trmink.blogspot.com/2008/12/end-of-world.html

5. Other people's bodily fluids.
http://trmink.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-you-insist-on-bottled-water.html

Muted

2009-05-13T16:46:00.011-04:00

It is unfortunately time for me to adapt to Twitter's decision to hide @replies in my conversations to people you don't follow.

Prerequisite reading:
http://x.superbadgirl.com/blog/

Be it far from me to tell anyone how to benefit from their social media experience. I will tell you what I am going to do.

I'm simply going to be aware that your replies to those I don't follow will be hidden. I'll check your profile's timeline to see these replies. An inconvenience, but like many others, I've found some of my best Twitter friends from their conversations with you.

Some of my replies to you will be preceded by a ":" so others can see the exciting conversation you have started. Hopefully some of my folks can give you a follow. Consider a mention of you anywhere in the post to be a testimonial.

Contrived

2009-05-12T15:17:00.009-04:00

Indianapolis Star headline today: On Skid Roe?

The story was about caviar demand depleting population of paddlefish. This is THE headline on THE front page of a city newspaper.

Underneath that: Gambling lobby rolls dice on special session.

The Star is rife with this cutesy crap. I'm finding it harder to take them seriously. The newspaper used to be the only local respite from cotton candy news. Not anymore.

While I'm at it. I prefer to read my news when on line. The trend of having videos backing up news stories from CNN, USA Today, et al is not as journalistic, if you will. I'd rather read 15 or 20 column inches than see a talking head read sparse copy while stock footage is being shown.

Mired

2009-05-11T19:34:00.005-04:00

I challenge anyone to get me out of today's funk. Knute Fucking Rockne couldn't light a fire under my ass. Piss on The Gipper. Put me on the bench, Coach.

Just seems I can't do anything right today . Forgetting to take wallet to the store, paper cut on hand, washing the dishes twice, spilling a diet soda, walking around Wal Mart with my fly open... It goes on and on. The world moves to the left, I go to the right. Even my Magic 8- Ball is on the fritz. I can't read the answer to "Will this get any better?" The text is obscured with bubbles and that blue inky crap.

I just know my PC will freeze before I can save this post and it will be lost forever.

Original (Part III)

2009-05-10T18:56:00.005-04:00

I often come across a late night infomercial on my program guide called, "Is Colon Detox Hype?"

So what does this have to do with today's evaluation of the new "Star Trek" movie that I saw last night? Simple. The series of series based on the original Enterprise and its crew had degraded into a convoluted glob of space-themed stories. The Stark Trek movie provided the need colon flush. Forget about all previous prequels, sequels, retellings, future generations, past generations, nineteen different Starship Enterprises blown up, multiple variations of Klingons, and thinly stretched variations on the theme. The slate (colon) is clean. We've started over and it feels so good.

In lieu of an extended string of Twitter updates, I offer these comments:

This was the first movie that my wife and I - 1. Saw together. 2. In a theatre. 3. At full price. 4. Both enjoyed. That's saying something. We are two fiercely independent people and have different ideas of what is entertaining. We do agree on what isn't entertaining and skip most films altogether. Her last movie was "Benjamin Button", mine was "Che". She goes to movies with her friends. I go alone.

I was disappointed in the visual quality of the film. Perhaps I got the hind tit of theatres and was shown a lower quality print. It was grainy and lacked in contrast. Actually it was no better than DVD resolution. The sound was satisfactory. While not a true Trekkie, I am Mr. Picky McPickPick when it comes to all things AV. I think a second viewing at the IMax i is in order.

Best line of the movie? "Olson is...gone!"

The casting was spot on. Hopefully they inked these folks to long term contracts. They're all young and can keep this cash cow grazing for years to come. Uhura is hot. Kirk out Shatners Shatner and John "White Castle Harold" Cho is a delight as Sulu.

Pike is not nearly as jacked up as he was in the 60s version. A head on a vending machine was more amusing, I'll miss that.

Space is more realistic in this one. More science in the fiction, if you will.

Kirk makes out with a green alien. Kinky, but titillating.

The film has a sweet nature to it. I tire of the post apocalyptic, dark, Blade Runner ripoffs that abound. Lots of fighting and shit blowing up in Star Trek without the nihilism.

Did I mention that Uhura was hot?

True Story

2009-05-09T13:56:00.002-04:00

Once ate fortune along with cookie.

Original (Part II)

2009-05-08T15:31:00.013-04:00

Music on my terms holds that cover songs seldom improve on the original. Most of the butchery occurs when the song is polished up for main stream consumption. This started long ago when terrific R&B and rock songs were recorded (known then as race records) and covered/stolen by by white bread artists such as Pat Boone for the tender ears of prepubescent suburbanites. Boone's cover of Little Richard's "Tutti Frutti" stands along with white/colored drinking fountains as atrocities of an ugly era.

The Beatles and Rolling Stones were main offenders in the 60s with their well-intentioned, but weak tributes to American R&B and country artists. Ringo's distorted "Honey Don't" from Carl Perkins wins the grand prize.

I offer three sets of songs and covers:

1. Joan Baez, sweet as she could be at times, put so much sugar on "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" (even changed the time signature) that it came off like an improperly mixed fountain drink. No fizz. All syrup.

2. Faith Hill, as they say, did not pay her dues, that is, unless you count a rogue sequin on her jeans chaffing her thigh as suffering

3. Mr. Broadus had to have smiled at this send up of "Gin and Juice" Both versions have merit.

Original (Part I)

2009-05-07T13:06:00.022-04:00

I mentioned yesterday that I would very much like to punch Joe Biden in the nose. I'd like to punch him so hard that his hair implants would fly around the room like the needles from a vigorously shaken, two month-old Christmas tree. That's the only reason I want to punch him; fake hair. I don't trust anyone who tries to drastically change their appearance to help advance their agenda. Sure, look your best, but don't try to deceive others.

~~My hair is starting to thin.~~
~~I have a receding hairline.~~
~~I'm experiencing some hair loss.~~
I'm damned near bald. *

Sure, hair like that of a TV Evangelist, country music star, or werewolf might be preferred, but it wasn't to be. I simply get my survivors of male pattern baldness buzzed off every few days. No problem. Like my daughter said in kindergarten when told she was printing her "e"s wrong, " If you don't like it, you don't have to look at it."

I might add, that not having to deal with a troublesome coiffure has shortened my morning regimen by 5 minutes or more.

So much for my head. I bristle at ads by Bosley, Hair Club for Men (First rule of Hair Club - There is no Hair Club), and other hair-restoring systems. The before picture has the follicle-challenged dude with a dour look on his face, unshaven, and looking a bit hung over and horny. The after picture shows presumably the same stud with a shit-eating grin on his face after his trip to a health spa and a weekend of hot sex. There also appears to be a dead badger sitting on his pate. This is no sweet deal for those who desire false hair. The remedy can cost thousands. Not to be crass... OK I am crass. But prostitutes don't charge extra for bald guys and if getting "dates" is the purpose of buying hair, then you can buy plenty dates for that price.

I submit Indiana Speaker of the House, Patrick Bauer

I can't take this guy seriously. Lose the hairpiece and I might.

* Cate style

Punching

2009-05-06T15:18:00.006-04:00

I'd like to see a world much like the toon world in the old Roger Rabbit movie . The toons could take a falling anvil to the head, shake it off, and keep on going. Along with toon-like resilience for the faces of my fellow man, I additionally wish that punching was an accepted way of sending a message to those who annoy you. The recipient of a good punch could stand there with his face comically distorted and have stars circling his head for a few moments while everyone laughed at him. A yaddy yaddy later the face would pop back into place and life would go on.

On these terms, punching is funny to me. I laughed uncontrollably when Chevy Chase punched in the face of Marty Moose. When lady Twitterers threaten to punch people it's funny on so many levels. A sweet girl belting an obnoxious boss in the puss? How can I not laugh at the notion?

So given that these people's faces would pop back into place (eventually) , here is my list of
People I'd Like to Punch.

Sam Joe "The Plumber" Wurzelbacher.

Howie Mandell

"Doctor" Phil

Seth Green

Mike Pence

Billy Mays

Rush Limbaugh

The guy two doors down from me.

Miss California

The lady talking about "certain part of the male anatomy" on the Extenze commercial

The bearded dickhead on the Save The Children promo

John Edward a.k.a "Biggest Douche in the Universe"

Bob Rohrman

Dick Cheney

Glen Beck

Jack and Rexalla Van Impe

Donald Trump

Paula Abdul

A random AIG executive

The lady ahead of me in the checkout lane.

Mike Tirico

Dick Bavetta

Jennifer Aniston

Joe Biden

Balance

2009-05-05T21:53:00.010-04:00

It might be a good day to show my sensitive side.
Yeah, I have one.

Stop laughing.

To counteract yesterday's pimping of "Fuck You" by Lily Allen, today I offer the song that is most capable of bringing out the few molecules of sweet that are within me.

After I listen to this song, I want to hug people, twirl around like Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music", let people cut in front of me in the checkout line, and even, uh, smile.

This isn't like that one time that a told a girlfriend that I thought her favorite love song was also my own favorite song just to advance my cause. I truly love this song. It is inspirational and, might I add, masterfully performed. I react to it like the original Mighty Joe Young reacted to "Beautiful Dreamer"

Calm the beast. Lyrics below - song on play list to the right.

A Thousand Beautiful Things - Annie Lennox

Every day I write the list
Of reasons why I still believe they do exist
(a thousand beautiful things)
And even though it's hard to see
The glass is full and not half empty
(a thousand beautiful things)
So... light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
Never close my eyes

I thank you for the air to breathe
The heart to beat
The eyes to see again
(a thousand beautiful things)
And all the things that's been and done
The battle's won
The good and bad in everyone
(this is mine to remember)
So ...
Here I go again
Singin' by your window
Pickin' up the pieces of what's left to find

The world was meant for you and me
To figure out our destiny
(a thousand beautiful things)
To live
To die
To breathe
To sleep
To try to make your life complete
(yes yes)
So ...
Light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
never close my eyes ...
That is everything I have to say
(that's all I have to say)

Eloquent

2009-05-04T16:53:00.003-04:00

Can't jabber enough about the song "Fuck You" by Lily Allen. Before you go Victorian on my ass or think this is one of those rowdy and ribald bar classics like "Piss Up a Rope" and click off this page...

Lily Allen, in her sweet style, takes down the mean and ignorant who plague this planet. Besides the wonderful lyrics , it's a perky little tune that you can hum all day. You can go to playlist on the right to hear it.

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind
and look a bit harder
cause we’re so uninspired
so sick and tired
of all the hatred you harbor

so you say it’s not okay to be gay
well I think you’re just evil
you’re just some racist who can’t tie my laces
you’re point of view is medieval

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

do you get, do you get a little kick out of being small-minded?
you want to be like your father
it’s approval you’re after
well that’s not how you’ll find it

do you, do you really enjoy living a life that’s so hateful
cause there’s a hole where your soul should be
you’re losing control of it
and it’s really distasteful

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind
and look a bit harder
cause we’re so uninspired
so sick and tired
of all the hatred you harbor

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

Contraband

2009-05-03T18:02:00.003-04:00

Anyone who has worked in an elementary school will tell you that Article IX, Section 17b of the school discipline code strictly prohibits gum and / or candy in the classroom. My days enforcing this law has at least given me a leg up on my training for a position in the DEA.

At the top of the Pyramid of Illegal Sweets was an apparently highly addictive mixture of sugar and chemistry's greatest bloopers, Now and Later candy. It was distributed by the local Village Pantry. Children lined up outside the store each morning to get their daily fix. Tons of it found its way into the school building, yet only a small portion of the trafficked substance was ever confiscated.

The watermelon flavor could be sniffed out from yards away and the tell-tale, green colored tongue from the apple-flavored squares provided damning evidence that a Now and Later had been eaten. A bust might take 3 or 4 squares off the streets, but seldom was a full unopened "stick" retired from circulation.

An unusual circumstance arose when a student claimed the Now and Laters (banana) in his lunch box were actually his dessert. I wanted to see for myself what these things tasted like, so I gave the kid a pass under the condition that I could have one of his squares. I can best describe the experience as unforgettable.

Initially, a Now and Later has the texture of hard chalk. You have to work it hard to get it into a semi chewy state before the taste is evident. I tasted no real banana, although the yellow color and a hint off banana smell, like that from a scratch and sniff book, provided enough to classify the flavor as banana. The beauty of the Now and Later from a kid's perspective is that you can chomp it up for quick consumption, or you can go the snuff route and park it your mouth for a long-lasting sugar drip.

The slogan on the wrapper said "Eat Some Now. Save Some for Later." I did not dare read the list of ingredients. But for the record:

INGREDIENTS: Corn Syrup, Sugar, Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, Citric Acid, Egg Whites, Salt, Potato Starch, Artificial Flavor, Emulsifiers (Soy Lecithin), Artificial Color (Red #40, Yellow #5, Blue #1, Blue #2

I haven't had one since.

Six Word Saturday

2009-05-02T21:58:00.003-04:00

Pork each day keeps A/H1N1 away!

Abomination

2009-05-02T14:53:00.003-04:00

I still laugh at that old cartoon gag where a fellow is served tea and the waiter asks "One lump or two?". The patron asks for two lumps of sugar and is bopped twice on the head with a hammer, raising two large lumps.

The diner deserves the punishment. Who in their right mind would sweeten their tea? The ethereal flavor of tea is negated by loading it up with sugar. I tastes like sugared well water. It is beyond nasty.

I didn't drink tea regularly until was well into adulthood Half of my family has southern roots and by custom, iced tea comes pre sugared when served by these folks. I'd gag on the crap and quickly learned to ask for water as my drink. It wasn't until much later when I was at a bar and grill watching a ball game and low on cash. I ordered iced tea. Refills were free. I thought I'd give tea another go at that price. I hesitantly took a sip and... another sip... a taste... a gulp... a slug... Where have you been all my life, you wonderful beverage?

I later confronted my parents about not introducing my to tea as it should be. Mom said, "We don't put sugar in tea anymore. Want some?"

I almost showered the kitchen after my first gulp. Gak! The tea was presweetened with Equal. Debate on the issue was pointless. If you knew my Mom, debate on anything was pointless with her.

I enjoy tea, hot or with ice. Green tea is my particular favorite. I have no fear of being bonked with a giant rubber hammer when asked how many lumps I want.

Back In The Saddle Again

2009-05-01T15:18:00.004-04:00

May 1, 2009. Either it's the first day of the rest of my life, or as I suspect, just another full spin of the planet and its passengers. Whatever the case, this is THE day.

This very blog has fallen on hard times. Like a skilled fighter pilot, I have learned that short bursts from the machine gun are more effective than blasting away with a shower of ordnance. I've been venting (Man, did this word get old fast.) in short bursts on Twitter (@trmink). Without the regular need for rants, tirades, and laying massive snark bombs, Harrumph Harrumph has been of little use.

NaBoPloMo has presented the challenge of blogging every day in May with entries centered around the theme, "Sweet". I figure if I can discipline my crabby ass into being sweet for the long effing month of May, some of the other neglected interests in my life will begin to reboot and go back on line. If this happens it will be a sweet deal for everyone around here.

Afterglow - Ani DiFranco

2009-04-29T23:04:00.022-04:00

I won't be asleep until -Oh, maybe, 7:00 a.m. A long-lost word recently shoved back into my at-hand vocabulary by one of my favorite twitter people (@superbadgirl) describes my frame of mind perfectly. I am in an ebullient mood.

Ani DiFranco killed. Her acoustic power trio rendered the chairs provided for the patrons useless after the first note was plucked on her guitar. After she opened up with her dynamic voice, she owned the place. I had chills shuttling up and down the spine, all the while being entranced. Ani DiFranco already had me as one of her fans, but so have many other performers I have seen live. Rarely does a performance exceed my expectations as much as tonight's show. Only The Band, and Bruce Springsteen have pulled this off before.

I sort of dragged my wife along to this one. I usually go with a good friend or my brother-in-law to acts like the Ramones and Buddy Guy. She has heard me play DiFranco tunes and while not a big fan, is somewhat positive toward the lady. She loved the show, but stopped short of ebullient. The show flowed right along with good fan interaction, and a well thought-out play list. Ani DiFranco gets so much out of here diminutive self. Tremendous artist, even if you don't care for her somewhat esoteric styling. I'll slap a play list at the end of this entry so you can sample some of what we heard. I think you get the picture by now. I give the maximum amount of stars for this show as allowed by Indiana law.

Pre concert found us at Chatham Tap on Mass. Avenue . Highly recommended by @broelliaro and enthusiastically seconded by @q22 and other tweeps as a good place near the venue for pre concert food and beverage, it too exceeded expectations. My dear Patti chowed down on the Veggie Sandwich, while I went with a steak sandwich. [ Menu ]. I sloshed my food down with a couple of Gaffel Kölschs that were on tap. I made a good choice. Patti's water with a lemon on the glass rim was neither praised or damned. The atmosphere of the establishment is conducive to good conversation. It is cozy, yet comfortable. I can't speak for The English pub atmosphere as I only have only flown over England a few times. I did see a couple of British films with pub scenes, but that's the extent of it. Chatham Tap seemed authentic in at least a Las Vegas or Disney World sort of way. There was a football match on the telly. That helped as well as colours from the various teams in the Premiership on display. One thing fortunately missing from that of a real English pub was the smoke.

We went back after the show for another round then headed home.

Notes:

That fellow that lets out a big woot! during a particularly mesmerising song was in attendance at the concert. I hope he stands by me the next time I go to a concert because he will get some free on-the-spot dental work.

Weird rule: Patti had to check her camera, but hundreds of cell phone cameras were allowed to take stills and videos.

This was obviously a girl's night out. Ani is popular in the gay community and among liberal-minded females like my artist wife. The line for the women's rest room stretched for yards, while the few dudes in attendance could walk right into the men's room. A definite perk, but more men should be listening to the music of this great talent.

We had only fair seats. perfect acoustically, but a bit far back. Concert goers should be given a quiz about the artist with the highest scorers getting the the best seats. A few, albeit very few, folks were talking during the show and leaving their seats. Those folks would have failed an examination and should have been denied tickets.

There was no clapping in rhythm by the fans during the show. DiFranco's songs are almost all syncopated and complex. Loved it. This wasn't your "Thank God, I'm a Country Boy" type of folk music.

Struck up a conversation with a couple of folks at the bar after the show. Speaks well for Chatham's.

At Least I Thought I Had My Health

2009-04-23T18:42:00.025-04:00

I say up late, I mean real late. Vampire hours, if you will. This makes me the target audience for every pill, tonic, topical rub, and medical device pitchman working after hours television. Let's start off with insomnia.

Ambien suggests that I will wake from an eight-hour sleep and wake up on 1000 thread-count sheets, with no stubble, no dried drool on my chin and, for good measure, a mate without morning hair. The drawbacks: Sleepwalking, and eating or driving while not fully awake, with amnesia for the event, as well as behaviors such as being more outgoing or aggressive than normal, confusion, agitation, and hallucinations have been reported. Don't take it with alcohol as it may increase these behaviors. Hallucinations aside, I don't need this. ..and no - the alcohol stays.

Lunesta offers the same faux sleep , but precludes me from operating heavy machinery. While not a deal killer as I seldom tool around on a road grater at 3:00 a.m. to pass the time, alcohol is still verboten and it does not seem to enhance any of Lunesta's benefits.

Perhaps it's the bed. Passing out does not count as sleep, so we'll forego the meds for now.

Enter the blurry image and soothing voice of Lindsay Wagner. The former bionic babe has resurfaced as the spokesperson for therapeutic sleep. One of beds lets you set the hardness or softness of each side of the bed. This point is nearly moot. There but for the hour or two when my wife and I are sleeping at the same time, separate adjustments are not needed. When in bed, I couldn't resist jacking around with the remote that tweaks the hardness of my side. I'd lose sleep worrying about having the optimal setting. Then there are other bed related functions. Arguing over how to set the bed for sex could kill the mood. It must be mentioned that the bed costs $7000.00. But if you're on a budget and have a thing for LindsayWagner: http://tinyurl.com/dgjt24

The sleep commercials are soothing and help to some extent, but then WHAMO. Billy Fucking Mays and his 110 dB voice (best described as a cross between a theremin and and a jack hammer) blasts me to an alert state with his Awesome Auger. I don't know what this has to do with meds, but it may be an underlying cause to my insomnia.

Now about ~~my dick.~~ that certain part of the male anatomy. I find no fault with mine , but according to the numerous promos from the folks at Enzyte, Extenze, DermaMax, et al., a gerbil would be ashamed to wield my tool. What irks me is the tee-hee, 2nd generation Victorian tone in many of these ads. Hell's belles! Stop beating around the bush. Everything is on the down low but it's four freakin' a.m. The kids are in bed. Why doesn't the panel of size-seeking bimbos break out into a Sir Mix Alot style video? No mention of the organ in question. No before-and-after pictures. WTF?

No thanks to hair restoration. I am not rubbing any sort of vile tonic on my scalp. I am not going Joe Biden. A rug? Nope. Nothing a shaved head or a five-dollar hat can't fix if I ever get worried about having challenged follicles.

This leads me to the names of meds

Allegra: Rhymes with the disease Pellagra. Sounds like a musical term. The "g" in allergy has different phonetics.

Avodart - I do not want a sharp-pointed missile being tossed at my prostate

Lipitor - One of the Masters of the Universe? Botox in pill form? Lipids generally are bad. Like naming an anticongestant Snotmax.

Propecia - Most popular kindergarten child's name in 2014.

I'm taking a breather. I'll finish this later ....

Location, Location, Location, My Ass, My Ass, My Ass

2009-04-12T20:46:00.007-04:00

I am a victim of what can be best described as geographical profiling. I live on the East Side. I am often perceived as being poor and uncultured. I supposedly spend my time living the life of a criminal or cowering in my home, lest I become a victim of crime. The perception is that our schools are not good schools. We are in a bad location. There are parts of your town that get a bad rap too. If you live there, I know you're feeling me.

If a crime is committed on our turf, the news people are quick to note that this was an "East Side murder." This puts the rest of the city at ease. The East Side may as well be Micronesia in terms of disassociation from the terrible event. Tell someone from across town where I live and I get the strangest looks Sometimes, it's an expression of sympathy as if I announced I live in a war zone or a shanty town. On occasion, I get a haughty look, which is followed by a round of condescending comments. The conversation often ends on the spot. Maybe I'm a bit chippy about this. Perhaps my body language says "I live on the East Side, MFer, wanna make something of it? Despite my over sensitivity there is substance to my claim.

The East side of Indianapolis does not have the amenities it deserves. Retailers, while not doing that well in any location, largely shunned us even during the economic boom. Our end of town is a densely populated as the others, yet new businesses are built miles away. Had they been built here, they would have enjoyed the same amount of success. The East side myth perpetuated by realtors has left us with a glut of loan shark outfits (PayDay Loans) , tanning salons, second hand stores, tattoo parlors, outlet stores, everything-for-a-dollar joints, and numerous cell phone shops. We may even be considered the Tire Store District or maybe the Discount Furniture District. We have 1 mattress store for every 6 citizens.

Our mall is a mausoleum. Few know what stores, if any, still exist behnd its grey and dirty facade. The last time I looked, there were mainly only more cell phone stores and a glut of cheap gold jewelry kiosks among the empty arcades. Some progress has been made as a sporting goods store and theatre complex were built with their storefronts facing toward the heavy traffic on East Washington Street, but an effort to dismantle the mall and rebuild a shopping and dining complex with easily accessible businesses has not happened. Death comes to any new store buried in the heart of the mall.

The main problem is that there are no destinations on our end of town. We are the last to get the a particular brand of store or restaurant. It, like the city as a whole, lacks character. But the perception is that the particular franchise on another side of town is somehow better than the one out east. This is true to a degree. Money is not spent to make our storefronts as presentable. For some reason we have the most burnt out letters on neon signs than anywhere else in the city. There are telephone poles lining our main streets. When a business fails, the property decays. Weed-filled lots flourish.

Ah, but there's good news. East Washington Street is being rebuilt. A few of the strip malls have upgraded their property. The realtors that are among the first to wake up and actually promote my side of town will flourish. There is money to made out here.

Twitter. My first 100 days.

2009-03-30T17:23:00.007-04:00

Yes, I really am interested in what you are having for dinner.

My favorite part of traveling across Europe by rail was being seated with total strangers in compartments or facing seats. You conversed. You listened, you learned. Opportunities like this are rare in the USA. You're never seated at a restaurant table with strangers. Make contact with someone you don't know - and you often get the Travis Bickle treatment.

Patches the Pony said "Nay Nay, from strangers stay away." whilst kicking the living shit out of a sexual predator's car door. People fear that talkative strangers have an evil agenda . I'm distrustful myself. My first reaction is, "What does this person want from me?" Are you selling me something? Are you a panhandler? I think I'm being hit on if the conversation is started by the guy at the adjacent urinal. Sometimes (er, often) I'm having a misanthropic moment and don't want to talk to anyone. Sure. I've had a few pleasant exchanges with fellow citizens, but the mutual distrust prevalent in these parts has deprived us of many more.

The part of Twitter that encourages dialogue between strangers appeals to me the most. Everyday face-to-face conversation between friends and family is certainly treasured but is isolating. I'm encouraged to follow someone on Twitter because I find their patter to be entertaining, informative, or refreshing. It is understood that I am not looking for nookie or a BFF. I just want to read what people I don't know are saying. Holding a common interest is not prerequisite to gaining my follow. I don't want to be a guru and I don't need a guru. If I'm following you, I'm reading you.

Just following me isn't going to get you an automatic follow back. Spammers get blocked right off. I'm leery of those who already are following 5000 people and somehow need me in their collection for I am not a MtG card. I allow you to follow, but you'll have to show me some love. If I reply to one of your tweets and don't get acknowledgement, you're blocked.

Most folks will get a follow-back after a day or two . A percentage get immediate reciprocation. These folks put a little consideration into following me.

I am very selective about those I seek to follow. There are a few Twitter celebs that offer such good information that I am not expecting them to follow me back. (Right now, consulting thesaurus for synonym: following.) I have a few folks on board that seem to provide good links to interesting content. A few Twitterers keep me abreast of local events and trends. Some, of course, are friends and relatives.

My cache of Twitter treasures include those with unique views. They are literate. They are not self absorbed. They are unguarded in their messages. They don't care how many people are following them. They are discriminating when following back. These are the kind of people I want in my group. Strangers on a train.

I wrote this in response to those who try to impose their will on Twitter. I don't see the need for tips on how to gain more followers. I do not want to recite the Twitter commandments you have brought down from your lofty mountain. I do not want to be in your inbred group that constantly retweets each other. I don't give a shit about how many followers you have. I do not need to read about your disdain for those who clog up Twitter with non-marketing content. I do want to read about what you had for dinner.

Che

2009-03-08T01:22:00.009-05:00

Che, a 4 hour and 23 minute work of art from Steven Soderbergh, is a film I finally was able to see after a six month wait. I can only describe my anticipation as that of a Star Wars fan had when waiting for Episode I - The Phantom Menace to be released.

Syriana and Traffic, also by Soderbergh, rank among my favorites. I have a fascination with the mechanics and process of revolution. The point being here is that this movie was made to order for me. I thought the movie was [insert superlative here]

A review of the film is not in order here, but a description of my experience at the theatre is. Yes. The film is long. The time does not include a 15 minute intermission. It was a "bring your lunch" affair, which I think some patrons actually did. I cut back on liquids and arrived fully fed. A short drink from the water fountain at intermission was all that I required. I might add that Che did not have credits before or after either of the two parts. No coming previews. No movie trivia or ads. No messages. Nada. It started right at 7:15 without warning. Not even a producer's trademark was displayed. Part I and part II opened with a map of Cuba and South America respectively, The nearly 5 hours spent at Indianapolis' Keystone Art Theatre was devoted to watching THE film.

In lieu of showing the credits, viewers were handed a high quality playbill listing the hundreds of artists and technical personnel that worked on the epic. The admission was $15, which for a Saturday night and on a per minute basis, seemed to be a good value. The fact that I went alone defrayed the cost of the evening. Of the 70 or 80 that attended, I counted only six couples. No children attended. The crowd was taciturn. Not a peep. Che would have to rank as the worst date movie EVER.

If you are still not discouraged from seeing this masterpiece in this state, it (will be broken down into two films when begins playing "in theatres, everywhere"); wait. I still have a caveat:

If you do not know much about Ernesto "Che" Guevara, the Cuban revolution , and US foreign policy in Latin America, particularly in the mid 2oth century, then this film will not make that much sense to you . Many of the passing references made assume an informed viewer. Soderbergh's style involves cutting to various times and places. This would only add to the confusion. Much of Che Guevara's story is omitted. In part one, the focus is the time between establishment of operations in the Sierra Maestra and the liberation of Santa Clara. In part II, Che's demise in Bolivia is the focus. His largely unsuccessful involvement Castro's revolutionary government is barely mentioned. I hesitate in designating myself a buff. I am, though, well read about the subject of the film.

Lastly, if you idolize the mythical Guevara, or are anywhere right-of center politically, you will probably be hung up by neutral portrayal of Che.

Esoteric, to say the least.

Terse

2009-02-28T02:04:00.007-05:00

Neglected: This very blog, my participation in online forums, e-mails sent . . .

It's all Twitter's fault. I estimate that I have sent out over 100 tweets since my last entry here. Not that I don't enjoy posting ancedotes here about my relatively mundane existance, but any stub of an idea for a blogger post gets slapped up on Twitter and is done with.

I don't worry much about whether anyone reads my crap or not. It just feels good for me to write it down. But to anyone who does read it - thank you.

I have discovered that I can convey most messages within the 140 character max on Twitter. I also know that I read far more tweets than I do blog entries. I have sent / received Twitter messages from my PC, laptop, cell phone, and iPod touch. Some people respond. I respond. For example, I'd never take the time to e-mail a "fan letter" to a favorite person like Rachel Maddow. Hell, an intern probably reads it anyway, and basically my message would be "enjoyed your show". A Twitter message may actually be read by Rachel and "enjoyed your show" fits well within the 140 character limit.

No I'm not going to abandon the blog. Rants are, by definition, long and meandering. Outside of a general F-bomb on Twitter, my angst cannot be fully described in a quip or an aphorism. Diatribes and Saroyanesque essays belong here.

This post goes out like the Voyager spacecraft. If it should enter your galaxy, get with Twitter. That's where I'll be spewing my nonsense for the most part.

Forever Young

2009-02-17T23:41:00.000-05:00

Always look ahead. Living in the past will make you old and useless in a hurry.
I'm grateful that I've, for the most part, tried to stay ...

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young,
Forever young
forever young
May you stay forever young.

Ma your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young,
forever young,
May you stay
forever young.

Profiled?

2009-02-12T19:41:00.000-05:00

I know advertising is targeted toward the viewers of various television programs. Project Runway, for example is rife with cosmetic and other beauty products. I may not be the typical viewer in this case, but I'm a bit worried about what I see during most of the shows that I watch.

I'm taken for someone who is:

old
in financial difficulty
afflicted with ED
bald
worried about an undersized certain part of the male anatomy
in need of soaking up spills
thrilled to watch naked coeds
tripping over unwanted gold sitting around the house
seeking to have rock-hard abs in 60 days

Maybe I'm watching the wrong shows or maybe I am in denial about these issues.