Where Is Cobra When you Need Them?

Do you remember the mini series that G.I. Joe did a while back? You know, the one where Cobra had stolen a device that could change the weather whenever and where ever they wanted?

I want that device.

It's freaking cold up in here.

I'm starting to think that maybe Cobra wasn't all that bad. Perhaps it was G.I. Joe's revisionist propoganda that convinced all of us when we were ten years old that Cobra was this evil enemy. I don't think it was like that at all. In fact I think Cobra was originally a good organization with a totally sweet name that was just lead in the wrong direction by a couple of neo conservatives who were so conservative they rounded the hump and became liberal. Crazy liberal. I mean changing the weather just because you want to? Who in the world would think of such a proposterous idea?

You have Cobra Commander the "ruthless" leader of Cobra whom we later learn was merely a puppet put in place by the supreme leader of Cobrala.

Then you have Destro, the only sane one of the bunch. I mean sure he had a metal head. Completely metal head. But he was always the voice of reason up to the last second, warning Cobra Commander not to do whatever it was he was about to do.

Next up is Baroness. Yeah wierd, I know. Destro's lady.

Later on we get introduced to "Dr." Mindbender. This dude is must have destroyed life for the Cobra purchasing clerks and accountants. He was always needing new and exotic materials for his rediculous research and development scams. Can you imagine the crap these guys had to put up with?

"Would you take a look at this!"

"Dude what is it?"

"It's that freaking Mindbender again. He wants us to authorize the purchase of body parts from ancient tombs."

"Like we're going to authorize that."

"For reals yo."

"It won't matter though."

"Why's that?"

"He's just going to take some Vipers and dig up the stuff himself."

"He's so flamboyantly stupid."

"I mean we could just have one of our archaelogical subsidiaries just buy the stuff!"

"What does he want this stuff for anyway?"

"Pfffssh, who knows."

"I hate this job."

I feel for you Cobra pencil pushers. I really do. Because little did they know that Dr. Mindbender's actions would result in the creation of the stupidest character yet: Serpentor.

I still think the weather manipulation device, which looked like a giant cannon, was a better creation than Serpentor. Although, Serpentor could throw stiff snakes at people. That was pretty cool.

I think that had Cobra Commander lived today in a post "Inconvenient Truth" World, he would have been given the Nobel Peace Prize for his ground breaking work in climate change. I mean the guy had a gun that could change the weather whenever he wanted. What's not to admire about that?

So I nominate that we finally acknowledge where all this climate change hoopla got its start: Cobra. Who would have thought that the world's most devastatingly evil fictional terrorist organization would have motivated the world to fight climate change. Think about it, this I command!

Twinkies: The Original Chuck Norris

It seems these days that everyone is talking about Chuck Norris. Even Mike Huckabee is talking about Chuck Norris. Now I'm not going to break with scientific fact and try to persuade you that Chuck Norris isn't all that people say he is. We all know Mr. Norris is invincible and super rad. But did you know that before there was the Chuck, there was the original primevil indestructable planetary element: The Twinkie. I will go one step further and declare the the following:

Evolution is real. Deal with it. I have proof:

Twinkies are the original indestructable element. They're golden on the outside and vanilla white on the inside. Twinkies have a soft spongy exterior but the taste is like a flavorfull kick in the mouth that gets you on both undersides of your jaw.

Chuck Norris is the Twinkie evolved.

The Twinkie wasn't getting the respect it deserved. Predatory children were ravaging Twinkie herds, decimating their numbers until they found themselves on the brink of extinction. Something had to be done. The remaining Twinkies combined their conciousness to form a collective mind and determined themselves to evolve into a new form that would be able to deal with the onslaught facing them. The form they chose: Chuck Norris. Chuck retains the golden exterior, now hardened from pain and the vanilla interior that is his core.

Don't believe me? Eat a Twinkie that has yet to evolve and tell me you didn't feel that! That's what I thought.

I SUPPORT GLOBAL WARMING

No, you are not reading this wrong. I support global warming. Global warming has been in the fore front of the media for several years now. It seems like everyday brings with it another celebrity endorsement of the war against climate change. Public radio and National Geographic has been producing a year long special on climate change which seems to air every morning. Al Gore and a group of less famous United Nations personnel have just received the Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts to educate and combat climate change.


These activists; celebrities and scientists; attack the fossil fuel industry, the republican party, and anyone not party to their beliefs of being immoral and just plain evil. Al Gore has often referred to climate change as a world wide moral dilemma. But after years of hearing the rhetoric from the scientists, celebrities, and journalists I have made a few observations.

These are the same individuals and organizations who also lament the growing world population and have worked their hardest to slow the growth of the human population down by supporting late term abortions, government policies (both institutional and overt) that would limit the amount of children born each year, and in some cases, even De facto genocide. So naturally those who oppose population growth oppose the green house effect.

Why do they oppose the natural process of Earth's adaptation to it's human population's size and wastes?

How do we know that the climate we currently enjoy is the optimum climate for humans to thrive in?

Who is to say that whatever the climate changes to is necessarily bad for human existence?

It seems like the scientific community and the American entertainment industry have made a lot of assumptions about our current state of affairs.

It's true that the human population is growing and will continue to do so. These opponents of climate change fear that the population is growing too large for the planet's ability to provide food. But what they're missing is that the planet is changing it's climate so that it can provide more food for its inhabitants! Have you ever been inside a green house? It's one of the most fertile places on the planet. And now the Earth is turning into a greenhouse. How wonderful is that? Soon our planet will be a wonderful greenhouse full of fertile soil capable of providing enough food for our ever growing population. This has to be the most convenient truth ever told and I welcome its arrival.

Join the fight to support global warming. This coming Monday will be designated as "Drive your SUV the long way to work day." That's right, we need to do all we can to promote global warming and climate change. Do your part and drive to work. Buses are for Communists. Drive long and drive loud!

Putin, Chavez, Political Coups, and Legislating From the Console

Today amid discussions of Putin, Chavez and brinksmanship, TenneC coined the phrase, "legislating from the console." I just had to document that in order to guarantee credit where credit is due.

Activist dispatchers be warned.

The internet is a cornfield; where ever you are, you're surrounded by ears.

America Autobahn

So TenneC and I were talking tonight and he thinks that we need to bring the Autobahn to America. I really like this idea. America used to have an autobahn. It was called Montana or was it Wyoming. Ever since the accident it's hard to remember details.

I think this would be great. I think it should be a toll road too. You should pay for the privilege of driving as fast as you want. And only certain kinds of vehicles should be allowed on it. In order to even qualify for the proposed American Autobahn you have to drive a bullet bike, exotic sports car, or a super wide powerful SUV. The bullet bikes would obviously be the fastest but would also get in the most wrecks quicker. The sports cars would then have to use their wishbone suspensions to weave in and out of the motorcycle accidents. Eventually some of them would get in accidents themselves. That's where the SUV's come in. The SUV's would plow over everyone thus cleaning up the mess.

American Autobahn should be high speed demolition derby P-diddy style.

Spies

Why are spies depicted in American media as super buff and super hot? This makes no sense to me. Spies are supposed to blend into society. They have to be able to make everyone around them believe that they are just like them: normal and average. So according to TV spies are super hot. This is probably because the government forced the networks and movie executives to portray American spies this way. The government does not want you to know that our spies are really normal average looking people who can't do a sit up or a push up if their lives depended on it. But what about killing? Don't you have to be in crazy shape to be able to kill people? Because all spies are also assassins right? Wrong again folks. But the government probably forces that particular depiction too. They want all of us to be too afraid of potential spies even if they are total lard butts. They want us to fear that even the total lard butts could kill us.

This is really just a sad ploy to trick us into thinking of spies in a certain way. Real spies are out of shape control freaks who hold down two full time jobs and have no lives. They work with you doing whatever it is you do and then they have their spy job. Their spy job usually consists of surfing the Internet. That's right, they surf the web looking for hidden codes and messages, telling them where to meet their handler later that night with the secret file (okay some things are real). So next time you're alone with that normal co-worker who spends all his or her time surfing the Internet, think again. They may not be so normal after all.

Edward Cullen

I present to you: Edward Cullen.

MTV films, (the studio with the current rights to the screen adaptation of Twilight) has officially cast Bright Eyes in his debut film role as Edward Cullen. Set to release Christmas time 2009, Twilight should draw a massive crowd following the success of Stephanie Meyer's books about the eternal teen vampire and the object of his desires; Bella Swan, who along with the rest of the cast, has yet to be named.

MTV films is rumored to be considering Katie Holmes for the role of Bella but they aren't confirming that right now.

I am not ashamed of liking these books at all. They're great stories and very well written. I'm excited for the movie(s) to come out and I hope MTV doesn't screw this up the way they did music videos. They were doing so well in the 80's you know? I also have to say that at first I was a little stunned that they cast Bright Eyes of all people to play Edward Cullen but now the idea has grown on me. I think this picture really makes him look like Edward.

Foamy Q and A: It's Time For Some Answers

Okay. What in the world does the Q and the A stand for in Foamy Q and A? I know you know what I'm talking about Utah. It's time for some answers. We've sat back for far too long just accepting that this is a legitimate name for a cleanser. Foamy Q and A. Foamy Q and A! Who thought of that?

I wonder what a real foamy Q and A would be like? Can you imagine President Samuelson holding a "foamy" Q and A with University students? I can. I'll let you imagine your own version of that. I'm sure it's funny and involves bubbles like mine does.

Foamy Q and A where did you come from? Who created you? Why did they give you that name? All I've ever gotten from you are questions, never any answers. Well Mister, it's time the "A" started playing ball...

LaVelle Edwards Stadium and Soccer?

Well it looks like plans are currently in the works to convert LaVelle Edwards Stadium into Utah's premiere soccer sports center. This is all still in the early discussion stages. Don't worry though football fans (American Football fans) BYU football isn't going anywhere. Due to Coach Mendenhall's growing popularity, certain insiders on the athletic supervisory board have expressed a desire to name a new football (American football) facility after the current cougar coach. That's about all I have right now but I promise I'll add more information as I get it.

The Marriott Center

I heard that they're going to start hosting Ultimate Fighting Championship at the Marriott Center. That cold dark place just got a little colder and darker. I agree with my co worker, whom I'll call "TenneC." The Marriott Center can be scary. I'm just glad I'm not a towel boy there. Those guys have it rough enough having to wipe off basketball player sweat from the court with their hand towels. Now if this deal with UFC goes through as planned, they'll have to don the latex gloves and wipe up blood. I can't believe BYU would actually agree to do this. Well if it does go through, at least KBYU television will get a little bit more lively. It's about time.

Night Shift

It's a party on graves people. A party. If only we hadn't run out of jars of communism. Then it would be a communist party. But hey, you can't have it all, "where would you put it?"

Perhaps a quick call over to Zakadia's Commie Emporium would help us out. I hear they deliver but the line is crazy long, like the two checkout lines at Albertsons, Macey's, and even Smith's at 11:55pm on Saturday night in Provo. You know what I'm talking about Utah. You get the urge to eat some nasty junk food that you would never buy during the day when you're in your right mind; and you decide to go out to your favorite grocer's to get that delectable bit O' transfat. When you arrive, you're greeted by young men and women who you can tell got all dolled up just so they could look "hot" standing in one of the two existing lines for an hour. It's like they knew that's what they would be doing with their evening.

"So like, what do you wanna do tonight?"

"I don't know, like, what do you wanta do tonight?"

"I don't know, let's just go to Macey's and hang out."

"Awesome, like what time is it?"

"It's like only 9:30."

"That's so perfect! We have just enough time to totally get ready!"

So 11:30 rolls around and two freshman girls step out into the great big world that is Provo ready for a night at the Macey's. Will they actually buy anything? Will they see that hot guy they both secretly are crushing on? Will they talk to anyone? Will their faces get tired making those ridiculous pouty model faces they've been practicing all night?

I hate those lines. Why do grocery stores do that to me? Why do they do it to us, Utah? Because they're lazy. Because that's the status quo people. And so when I want to get my trans fat on late at night right before church starts in Provo at midnight; I have to wait in line with these poor saps, only I don't look hot. Because how are you going to try to look hot when you want to get your trans fat on? Seriously. Look at me I'm so hot, pay no attention to the boxes of twinkies in my arms. I say if you're going out to get your trans fat on, you should look and dress the part. I want to see more people with baggy sweats and over sized T shirts. You know what I'm talking about Utah. The kind that cover up the rolls. That's right. You need freedom of movement when getting your trans fat on. You've got to be able to bend over to pick up that dropped hoho crumb and you don't want no low rise butt booty tight jeans pinching you leg veins shut while you're getting your reach on do you? I say go all the way. I prefer big baggy basketball shorts. They're thin enough that if I do get pinched I won't feel it much and they're baggy enough that I have total freedom of movement for when my thighs start to inflate and rub all up against each other. See you have to plan for this kind of food. I'm not saying one should always do this, but just when it's time for a little trans fatty action, should you follow my guide lines here. That being said, I want to add that flip flops are definitely the way to go when riding the trans fat train. I say this because my feet tend to swell when eating ding dongs. So it's nice to be able to just flip off your flop when the time is right.

So in closing, yeah graveyards are great. What did the following have to do with working the night shift here? If you don't understand the science of random thought in the middle of the night, then I guess you'll have to work the graveyard to understand.

Home Teachers Make Mistakes Too

I just want you all to know (all five of my loyal readers) that even home teachers make mistakes sometimes. Don't be a hater just because he's famous. Famous LDS stars can slip up just like the rest of you zoobies.

In related news, Fedex now ships communism world wide. You can get a biggie order of communism shipped directly to your doorstep overnight now. Just contact Zakadia for more information. Finally a direct mailing source for some of the best retro communism money can by. All proceeds of Zak's direct communism go directly back to the people. So be sure to super size your order!!!

Yes this is an inside joke post. I'm allowed one every now and then. Get over it. And if you happen to be a Chinese underground freedom fighter reading this, hoping that yahoo or google won't sell you out to the People's Republic, I apologize as this post might seem insensitive to your plight. Fight on brother. Fight on.

Flashback Monday: Sliding Down Rock Hill

Yes readers it's time for another Monday Flashback. So all five of you get in a circle and sit criss cross apple sauce and I'll tell you tale from my life from the past.

'Twas a warm sunny day as I made my ascent,
Up notorious Rock Hill in Connecticut.
The wind it was blowing
My face it was glowing
As I climbed up that giant cliff face.
My father was absent
My mother was sleeping
As I gallantly made my way.
The dew was still fresh and the rocks were still slick
But determined, I continued to climb.
I had on my Nikes
My short shorts, my T shirt
With my socks pulled up to my knees,
I was halfway to the summit
When I felt myself plummet
And my shorts instantly rode up my butt!
I slipped and slided
I lefted and righted,
And almost collided
With an ominous bush.
And just when I thought all hope was lost
I suddenly stopped on my toosh.

I looked around slowly and felt something trickle
Warmly around my right leg.
It was blood from my cheek
And I felt like a geek
But at least I survived the ordeal.

Rock Hill, it still stands just as far as I know
It is there and forever will be.
It is mine I have claimed it for my right butt cheek stained it
Notorious it will be evermore.

Drop The Mujic

Today we got a 911 call from a concerned citizen who had a suggestion as to how the "disabled miners" could be rescued. See, she had been watching TV and had seen how rescue workers had been drilling holes in the mountain and dropping microphones in an effort to locate the miners. Her suggestion:

"Drop the mujic." Her thinking was that instead of dropping microphones in the mine, rescue workers should be dropping mujic in an effort to give the trapped miners hope.

As if the sound of DRILLING wouldn't be music to their trapped ears. No, we need monster ballads to give these guys hope. I think I'll create a special playlist just for this. Oh yeah, "mujic" is really music.

"It Doesn't Get Much Better Than This"

As I came to the end of my orange flavored Creamy, I noticed the message written on the wooden stick: "It doesn't get much better than this." Suddenly I was filled with an aching sadness. I realized the stick was right. It doesn't get much better than this. I always thought there was more to life but apparently according to Premium, the comapny that manufactures Creamies, there isn't. I hope they realize what destruction they're causing. Unless someone who is completely satisfied with his or her life is eating one of their Creamies, people all over America are getting very very depressed. I don't think I could live with that kind of responsibility. Could you? I'm going to wager a guess and say no. If I had my own Popsicle company I would put inspirational messages of hope and compassion on my Popsicle sticks, like:

"Don't feel bad you'll burn off these calories just by standing up!"

or

"It could always be worse."

or

"You don't have to like it, you just have to do it."

Wouldn't that just be better than, "it doesn't get much better than this?" Thanks a lot Creamies for crushing my hopes and dreams. Thank you for making me see that no matter what I do, I'll never get that better job or lose that weight or beat Aaric's high score on facebook tetris. Stupid Creamies.

Flashback Mondays

Yeah, I'm just being different. So to you, the five readers of my blog, I take you on a trip down my personal memory lane. The year was 1983 I was in kinder garden and I was bit by a dog while walking home from school. That's right, I was 5 and walking home from school (uphill). These older kids were walking their doberman and it started snarling at me and barking. They let it go and it chased me down and bit me in the thigh. If you look real hard you can still see the bite marks. I was traumatized. From that day forward I was terrified of all dogs. Even the Disney movie Oliver freaked me out and as far as I was concerned all dogs most certainly did not go to heaven. It wasn't until years later when I was 17 that I overcame my overpowering fear of dogs. My parents bought a puppy for my brother for Christmas. And as is usually the case with dogs, they tend to want to hang out with the kid that ignores it. So my brother's dog became my best friend and cured me just in time for my mission on the Mexican border. So that's my flashback. It's not a cutsie flashback like the rest of you like to post. Mine is filled with terror but ends in redemption. This is the kind of hard hitting biographic flashback you can expect to read every Monday here at anotherblogaboutme.blogspot.com.

Think Godly Thoughts

Do you ever meet crazy people? I mean KA-RAY-ZIE people? Not weird, or awkward or strange, but "straight up mentally ill" (30 Rock, Tracey Jordan, first episode)? I meet these kinds of people on a regular basis. Both in my personal life, usually due to my wife's associations at church, and my job as a 911 dispatcher. The other day my wife's visiting teacher came by with her "baby" who happens to be 5 feet tall and 4 years old, and wanted to visit my wife. As usual this was another unexpected surprise visit.

Now before I go any further, please allow me to explain a few details about this person. She has a reputation for being exceptionally pushy. Her language tends to assume that whomever she is speaking with will do whatever she suggests. Well the last time she came over unannounced to visit my wife, who was in the shower preparing to leave on an expedition to Ikea, she tried her little Jedi mind trick on me.

"Hi, I'm here to see Jamie, I tried to call but she doesn't answer the phone or return my calls. I'm coming in to see her."

"Jamie is in the shower and when she gets out we will be leaving."

"I'll just come in and wait for her. My baby will play with your daughter."

I looked over at her "baby," a five foot tall lanky child secured in a stroller much to small for her. She looked like she was much older than a baby.

"Jamie is in the shower and we're about to leave so I think it would be better if you came back anther time."

"That's okay I'll just come in and wait for her so we can reschedule then," she began lifting her child laboriously up our front stairs. I could tell the kid was heavy as this woman was really putting her back into the task. Finally her grunting was too much for me.

"No. You may not come in my house."

"What????"

"I said, you can't come in. I am not going to let you come into this house. Please leave."

"I wasn't going in, what did you think? I was trying to come into your home or something? Geez."

"Uh, yes I do think you are trying to come into my home. I've told you, we're leaving. I will tell my wife that you came by, and I will have her call you to reschedule a time to meet."

"Well I wasn't trying to come into your house."

"Right."

"I really wasn't, I..."

I closed the door. Worried I would be solicited for Claritin D or Oxycontin.

This time she came back and it was the same story. Your wife never returns my calls, blah, blah, blah, my baby just wants to blah, blah, blah, I'm NOT trying to come in, etc, etc, etc. Her "baby's" arms were covered in strange temporary tattoos that were not the kind you find in a cracker jack box. I didn't really have to say anything this time other than,

"Hello, she's not hear at the moment... yes.... no... she went out.... I don't know when she'll be back... no... thank you... goodbye."

The last thing she said as she pushed her "baby" back down the stairs in defeat, was:

"Just do me one thing will you? Think Godly thoughts. Just think Godly thoughts."

Sometimes from the mouths of the mentally disturbed comes the best wisdom you could hope to receive. This has become my new mantra.

"911 what's the address of your emergency?"

"Raintree Apartments, please hurry it's an emergency!"

"What's the problem sir, tell me exactly what's happening."

"There are girls in the hot tub and they are wearing bikinis!!!"

"Are they injured?"

"No."

"Are they engaged in illegal activities?"

"Well I think so!"

"What are they doing sir?"

"They're wearing bikinis in BYU approved off campus housing! I want you to send the police right now to arrest them."

(Think Godly Thoughts Jake)

"Uh, so they're not naked, and they're not doing anything illegal, and they're not in any danger..."

"They're wearing bikinis!"

Yeah I get calls like that. And now, I try to think Godly Thoughts. Thank you crazy lady.

I Have Always Been Pre-Existing

I recently watched the movie "SiCKO" by Michael Moore. I've never been a big fan of Moore's films, well I take that back. I enjoy his films and view them as entertainment but nothing more. I do enjoy a good "stick it to the man" film. Perhaps it's the dormant liberal in me. I don't know. I think when it comes to Michael Moore movies, people are quick to bring up political affiliation. If you like his films you must be a liberal. If you don't like them you must be conservative. Well, I'm so liberal I'm conservative. Wrap your mind around that one America.

I have seen his films and like I said, I normally view them as pure entertainment and not the thought provoking dialogue starting movies, I'm sure they are intended to be. I view them this way mostly because of the way he composes his films. It's fairly obvious and completely biased the way he crafts his movies. These are not documentaries; rather, they are propaganda films designed to influence public opinion. I'm okay with that because I see them for what I believe they really are. So I don't mind so much that they are presented under the auspice of "documentary" because I believe that just about everyone knows that his films are set up this way.

That being said, "SiCKO" was different for me. This is Moore's attempt at an expose of the medical and insurance industries here in the United States. Almost from the outset of the film I found my nasty little "stick it to the man" side of me cheering Moore on. I felt this way because I have been one of the nameless faceless victims of America's health care debacle. I could relate to almost every single case he presented in his film. Throughout the film I found myself letting down my normal content analysis laced guard. I was more and more willing to look past the editing and the propaganda he was proselyting because I believed it myself. I was reminded of how awful it really is in America to have to do battle with health insurance companies and HMO's. Prior to watching the film I had just wrapped up a 6 month battle with my health insurance company. They had demanded that I pay them over $600.00 in bills for a routine cleaning at my dentist. I had previously been insured under their student program at the University I attended prior to being hired by that University upon graduating. That program was a nightmare unto itself. I was relieved when I was hired by the school and told that I could now qualify for the "the best health care money could buy." Imagine my dismay when I went to the dentist for the first time in too long (due to not having dental coverage on my student plan) only to learn that they were going to try to shaft me for a routine cleaning.

I received bills from the dental office, and the phone calls began. The dental office would tell me that they've submitted everything the insurance company demanded but it was never good enough. The insurance company kept telling me that my dentist's office was trying to bill them for procedures that were never done. This went on back and forth for 6 months and all the while the dentist's office was charging me late fees for not paying on time. And why was I not paying on time? Because my insurance company was not playing ball. Eventually I waited them out. They paid and the Dentist's office congratulated me by voiding all the late charges on my account. This was a great victory for me until I realized what all the fuss was really about.

My insurance company didn't want to pay for my cleaning because they classified my dirty teeth, for lack of a better expression, as a pre-existing condition. What the hell. Of course it's a pre-existing condition. When would it not be? I guess only people with perfect teeth can qualify for coverage for their dental needs. I mean how ridiculous is that? I found out that they only agreed to pay for my dental care after my case was put through to a board of review. Somewhere in some other city a group of non medical professionals sat down with my dental X-rays and charts and went about the business of deciding whether or not I was asking for something that was fair and reasonable. As if I was trying to sneak some crazy expensive service by them and get something I wasn't entitled too. Because that's what they do. They try to save money by screwing me. And I have been screwed several times over.

Now that this is over, I ask myself more now, what if I did need some kind of specialized care? They would probably force me to take a genetic test to see if I had a predisposition to whatever future ailments might beset me and then classify them as pre-existing conditions to get out of paying for them.

Sure Michael Moore may be crazy and biased and mean and smug and condescending and way too liberal for many people's tastes. But his latest film resonated with me and I ate up all the bias, the craziness, the smugness, and condescending tones he threw at me, his audience, and the companies and industry he attacked. It was good fun had at the expense of people I have often characterized as conspiring evil men. Perhaps I'm disillusioned but I don't think I'm the only one. Working with health care in this country has always been an uphill battle for me. Kind of like the four years I spend duking it out with the various guidance counselors at my high school in Virginia. But that's another tale for another night and one I'm quite fond of.

So Michael Moore, I salute you. I love guns, I love Chevys, I hate big oil and the Carlyle Group, but support the troops and feel we need to purge the world of Islamist Extremism. I feel you on health care reform. But I'm still so liberal I'm conservative, kind of like Jesus.

Guns

Are you the spouse of a man who wants to get you into shooting? Are you frustrated and tired of his constant invitations for you to join him on the range? Are you tired of his scheming and constant planning of new ways to buy the guns he wants? I have the solution for you!

Give up. Join him. Let him buy his guns. Go to the range. "The family that shoots together stays together."

Vampires

This summer is the summer of Vampires. My wife introduced me to this book called Twilight by BYU grad Stephanie Meyer. Apparently this is a "chick book." It's about a teenage girl who moves to Forks Washington to live with her dad. Shortly after moving to Forks, she becomes involved with a Vampire and his undead family. Romantic, action and undead terror ensue. I read this book in a few days. I was totally engrossed in it. I did not expect to become so interested in this book but it was very well written and captured the emotional ups and downs of teenagedom really well.

Last night I watched Under World and Under World Evolution. I am now reading New Moon, the sequel to Twilight and in August the author of the series is coming to my Sister in Law's town for a book signing and my wife and I are trying to get my Sister in Law to get us a signed copy of the third title in the series: Eclipse.

I have heard rumors of a Twilight movie deal being in the works and I hope it works out. All this talk of vampires has got me wondering though.

Why do they call them the "undead?" I'm not dead; could I not go by that title as well? They call Zombies that too. So what exactly does undead mean? You're thoughts please (in haiku form of course).

Guest Stars

Why don't TV shows today do what they did in the 80's? You know, how they would have a super famous actor guest star in each episode, usually as the bad guy? Why don't they do that anymore? I would love to see an episode of LOST where each cut scene had a different super famous star appearing in some kind of role as an "other." That would be cool. It would also be cool if Mr. T made more TV appearances as well. Preferably on LOST. I would like to see Patrick Stewart on LOST as well, but not William Shatner. That would be awkward if you know what I mean. Sometimes when I'm watching LOST, I imagine that the main characters are the bad guys and the "others" are really the good guys. But then my thoughts quickly turn to how cool it would be if Sylvester Stallone was on LOST reprising his role as John Rambo. Can you imagine Rambo on LOST? I know why they don't do it. If Rambo was on LOST, everyone would be found because he would pull a "Lord of The Flies (LOTF)" and burn both of the Islands up with a flammable arrow. The Dukes of Hazzard used flammable arrows. What's up with that? They were on probation for the entire time they were on the air. Part of their probation terms was that they were not allowed to possess firearms. So that makes a lot of sense. They couldn't have guns but they could have explosive tipped arrows. Nice. They had a sweet car though. You know who else had a sweet car? T.J. Hooker. Again with the William Shatner. T.J. Hooker was pretty amazing. There was a lot of hood sliding in that show. I wonder how they got away with all that hood sliding without denting the hoods of their squad cars? You could never get away with doing that on a motorcycle like on C.H.I.P.S. That would never fly.

Fruit Snacks

I ate some fruit snacks today at work. I opened the packaging up and there were only four actual fruit snacks inside. Today is my birthday too and I just thought that was totally uncalled for.

Shower Curtain

My wife bought a new shower curtain for the bathroom the other day. It's clear. I was in the the shower and noticed how much brighter it was inside then I noticed that there was a clear shower curtain in place. My wife walked in while I was in the shower and started washing her face. I felt like I was in some kind of performance art installation. It was really weird. Plus when you're on the outside looking in it looks like the person in the shower is some kind of weird horror film.

Poison Something Update

I went to the doctor and it's Poison Oak. It hurts, it itches, it's oozing nasty fluid, and unfortunately it did not come from aliens nor has it endowed me with super powers. It's just poison oak and it sucks. The image on the left is my left forearm It's the worst with the infection, yes infection, going all the way around the arm. The image on the right is my right inside upper arm. That infection has seemed to stay put, thankfully. My arms are wrapped up like a mummy now and I'm on antibiotic cream and steroids. There is no side effects for the antibiotic cream; however, I find myself curiously angry all the time at everyone and everything now that I'm taking steroids. Oh and they gave me some anti itching meds but they knock me out almost instantly which is really cool at night, but not so cool when I'm driving.

Poison Something

I have poison oak, sumac, or ivy. I'm not sure what it is but it's on both of my forearms and my right bicep. It itches and it burns and I'm typing this without resting my arms on the desk. My arms look pretty gnarly too. There's this weird star pattern on my left forearm too and that makes me think that possibly this is an alien infection of some sort and that any minute I will begin manifesting special abilities not found in normal man. Kind of like the backwards number 4 that's imprinted on the right side of my scalp just above my right side burn. Whenever I get a close haircut (high and tight, white walls, what have you) and I look in the mirror, I notice very clearly the number four. Is this some kind of message? Why is the number four engraved in my head? Why is it backwards? What does it mean? It's probably nothing. It's probably just some natural accident that just looks like a reversed number 4. But sometimes when I'm in bed, just before I go to sleep it starts to burn and glow.

Okay that last part wasn't true. But how cool would that be if it was? It's pretty weird though just like me getting poison whatever on my arms. So I guess that's how I deal with these odd things. I attribute them to a government conspiracy or aliens wishing to give a chosen human super powers. Hey it works in the comics! Unfortunately, I still itch.

Responses to my blog

From now on I would like to request all responses to my blog be in Haiku format. This will facilitate my ability to read the endless amount of replies I receive almost on a daily basis to my blog. Also it will enable you to pack so much more emotional content into your replies, while keeping them short enough for me to get through them and still have time to ponder their endless meanings.

Thank you

The Management

Corporate Emo

Emo is the new corporate rock. It's time we all faced the facts and found something else to horde away from the masses of brainwashed teenie boppers who drive these songs to the top of the 40. I once heard an emo girl, in a desperate effort to keep emo emo, call into a radio station and beg the DJ not to play Bright Eyes anymore. Her efforts failed. Her reasoning for the anti-request was that the artist known as Bright Eyes was becoming too popular and she wanted it to stop so that she and the select few of his early fans could still claim that ever important musical moral high ground when comparing obscure bands. As if to be able to say, "oh you've never heard of Bright Eyes, well I guess you don't really know emo then."

I laughed when I heard this. Don't you people know it's over. Emo, the once underground answer to grunge is dead. Everyone gushes their their honesty in song now and calls it emo. The minor 7th chords, the black hair, the women's jeans, the "I don't care about making money" facade, is over. Emo has officially sold out. Deal with it. Dashboard went electric for crying out loud! It's Dillon all over again! Emo is the new Journey. There I said it. It's time to find a new underground musical genre that truly emulates the you that no one knows or appreciates. It's time to ditch the women's jeans. Wash the black dye out of your hair. Lose the studded belts and bracelets. Buy some decent shoes. Wash your face and smile for a change. I have the answer for your musical needs. It's time to go back to the music that has always represented you and the things you stand for. The music that lets you be yourself and appreciates you for who you are. The music that will never go corporate because it's so underground everyone has forgotten about it. You've probably told people you've heard of this kind of music so you can sound like the well rounded and enlightened critic you portray to all of your friends and those you meet for the first time at emo concerts. It's called Jazz and it's the next big thing. It's as underground as you can go. And while it might get a lot of air time on public radio, once you start listening to John Coltrane and Miles Davis, you will never go back. Emo's got nothing on this, the original emo.

Utah is trapped in the 80’s. One of my brother in laws once said to me, “even when it was the 60’s Utah was trapped in the 80’s.” This is the same brother in law who when he suspects someone might by homosexual, first asks them if they’re German, “German or Gay?” But it’s true. Utah is and will forever be trapped in the 80’s. Why?

Because the 80’s was Utah’s decade. Everything that put Utah on the map happened during the 80’s. The LDS church reached it’s pinnacle of fame during the 80’s. BYU won the national championship during the 80’s. Some of BYU Football’s most famous players played for the University during the 80’s. Utah has the most 80’s themed radio stations. People here still dress like the 80’s. It’s like the state just got tired of being fashionable as fashion continued on. I think that happens with old people. You know, you reach a point where your clothes aren’t wearing out, they’re still in good shape, you’re not growing anymore, so why bother buying new clothes? Suddenly you’re a living time capsule for the fashion of your chosen decade.

My wife says I peaked in the 90’s and I’ve been trapped there ever since. Well I’m sorry if I still wear my Dave Matthews Band and Phish T-shirts; or my baggy carpenter jeans. But at the end of the day I know she’s right. We all have our favorite fashion sins. Mine is the clothing of the 90’s.

She Finally Gone an' Done it

Well, "she finally gone an' done it." That's right, after years of crafting, my wife has finally made a post on her blog about her hatred of one of my favorite hobbies. In her recent post she compared Airsoft to an adulterous woman with whom I just can't leave. And what happened when she posted this? Some anonymous pro-airsofter responded. He came to my defense. Now I have no idea if this person was being sarcastic or not, but it was funny to say the least. My wife called me and was really upset about it. To her credit she asked me to read her controversial post before she published it and I agreed. She asked me if it made me feel stupid because she was concerned that I would. I told her that stupid wasn't the right word. More like foolish. I don't know which is worse though; stupid is used so much, I think it's lost it's initial shock value. But foolish is different. Foolish is a word that cuts a man down to the core. It forces him to re-evaluate his entire life based on the judeo-christian values he grew up with. There's a song that goes, "the foolish man built his house upon the sand..." Well I won't recite the entire song, but needless to say everything the foolish man loves gets washed away in a terrible flood.

Foolish men are worse than stupid. They make dangerous bad choices that destroy the lives of other people, usually the one's they love the most. I think that's why I told her to publish it. Maybe I'll stop being so foolish and join the real military! YEAH!!

Robots

I was driving in the Dollar Honda, and listening to public radio when I heard the most entertaining discussion I have ever heard on the radio. It was about the history and future of robotics in this country. I was listening intently as the guest recounted the history of robotics and then dove right into the subject of artificial intelligence and his work in that field. He spoke of the wondrous work he had been doing with teaching robots how to think and even write!

I was hoping and hoping and then it happened. A crazed engineer called in and began ranting about how he "lost his job to robots on three separate occasions. We need to be careful how far we take this" The guest responded in a cool manner,

"are you suggesting that we limit our research on robotics?" he sounded suspiciously like the robot on 2001 A Space Odyssey.

The caller's voice got louder, "I'm just saying that we need to be careful!"

"What do you mean, what are you really saying?" the guest asked.

I could tell what the caller was thinking and I knew he didn't want to come out and say it. The guest knew too. There was a long awkward silence. The air was tense and for that moment everyone listening knew what was about to transpire. It was beautiful. The host of the show, decided it was time, and asked the question that was demanding to be asked: "What are you afraid of caller?"

I could hear the frustration in the callers voice as he was forced to answer the question. He had already prefaced his comments by citing his degrees in engineering and his life's work in the field of robotics and science in an effort to legitimize his comments and put himself on equal ground with the guest expert. I could hear the pain in his voice as he slowly gave in and replied:

"What if the robots gain that consciousness you're working so hard to give them and turn on us?"

I had to pull over.

He had said the very thing, I am sure the whole world was waiting to hear. Actual scientists, the people actually involved in building robots are worried about the robots taking over. The caller was flustered. It was like he didn't want the world to know that this secret fear existed in the robotics community and now he had let the cat out of the bag. Meanwhile the show's guest was beginning to appear more and more like an evil mad scientist who wanted the robots to take over and put him into power over the entire world.

The caller kept saying, "we need to be careful, we need to be careful." But his doomsday rhetoric was ignored by the guest. I was laughing out loud at this point. Everyone knows that robots can't and won't take over the world. This fear has been present since the idea of robots first came about. I know this will never happen. I laughed myself silly at the debate ignited by this caller's fears.

But for some reason, I will never buy a Roomba. You see, if what this guy said is true, then I don't want to be accosted by my vacuum cleaner in the middle of the night, those things are wily little suckers.

Super Chocolate

As I write this the effects of a piece of chocolate I ate approximately four hours ago are beginning to wear off. A friend of mine from work gave me this special little nugget of cocoa from her purse and told me that it was a special kind of chocolate from the Amazon. Now any time I hear the words "chocolate" and "Amazon," you've got my attention. So as soon as she handed it to me I inserted the dark nugget into my mouth and began chewing. I didn't wait for her to explain the instructions (yes, apparently all chocolate that comes from the Amazon comes with instructions, kind of like medicine).

So as I was chewing this this thing she begins to tell me how I'm supposed to suck on the nugget instead of chewing it. She did not see that I was already chewing the thing up at that moment but upon hearing this I became a little concerned. I slowed down my rate of chew so I could hear what she was saying.

"This chocolate is rich in anti-oxidants and can curb your appetite in between meals," she said. I carefully swallowed the remaining bits. "If you rest it on your tongue and suck on it, the chocolate will coat the lining of your stomach and help curb your appetite but you're not supposed to eat it all at once," she went on.

"This is really good chocolate," I said.

"You already ate it?" she seemed concerned.

"Yeah, wow, I feel kind of funny." I was concerned.

"You're not supposed to chew it up and eat it!" She seemed equally concerned.

At that moment I had an experience similar to the one I had with the chips at the office (search blog for entry about chips in office. It's worth it I promise). Only this was a little different. The room became much brighter. Everything was more detailed than I had ever noticed before. The image my eyes were seeing would skip or jump every few seconds. My brain started working faster. I've never done drugs before but I think this is the closest I've ever come to experiencing the effects of one.

I confessed to my friend that I had indeed consumed the chocolate incorrectly. I told her what I was experiencing and she seemed surprised. I was okay driving home. I was very okay. But now things are wearing off. I miss high definition experience that lasted a whole four hours. I have decided that this chocolate is going to be great during graveyard shifts. And now that I have experienced this I no longer want an HD TV. I just want more Amazon Mega Chocolate. All I have to do is chomp one up and then I get to experience HD Life. But as with the chips I have to be careful. The law of diminishing returns is always waiting to rear its ugly head in my life. So this month it will be Amazon Chocolate. Next month, exotic potato chips. The month after that, I'll be spending my time at J-Dogs. And so the circle of addictive foods will continue. I need to find a link to my deale- I mean friend's chocolate website (if she has one) so my faithful readers can experience high definition life too. She sells the stuff you know, and I fully endorse it.

The Bean

I thought we were done. I thought the embarrassment was over. Just when you thought they had thought of everything to strengthen and shape your abs, out comes this: The bean. The bean is an inflatable blob shaped like a kidney bean. To exercise your abs on this thing, you have to rock back and forth on it using embarrassing pelvic thrusts up in the air. On the infomercial these thrusts are performed by sexy hard bodied men and woman who are just having the time of their lives. And of course, it's all done poolside.

Okay so you've got the bean and you happen to belong to the Bean's target market: You're a 300 pound male or female who stays up, watching TV until 3AM. Like all the others, this device cannot possibly support your weight, just like that inflatable couch you thought was such a good idea at the time. I can see it now, you mount the bean and after a few awkward upward pelvic thrusts, your shirt has ridden up past your belly and you are sweating like a pig. The Bean not only insults people's intelligence but, like all the other machines out there, has devised a way to trap you on it. Shortly after you begin your workout, you inevitably become glued to the "super strong poly-vinyl surface." Removing yourself from the Bean will prove more painful than the actual attempted workout as it rips your flesh from your back.

I can't stand this stuff. First it's the machine that seduces you into working out on it because it looks like a lounge chair. This is easily and appeal to the target's laziness. "We know all about you Mr. Smith, you got fat because you sat in your chair for all those years eating pork Rhine's and peanut butter. But this chair is different! This chair will make you fit again! It's so easy just have a seat." They you get trapped and can't get out.

The Bean is an appeal to the target's stomach. "We know you Mr. Smith, we empathize with your plight. You got the way you are by eating too many beans. Well use this bean and thrust your way to a perfect stomach. Instead of eating the beans that made you fat, you can ride a bean and get the opposite effect. Honestly, so if I eat too many hot dogs from J-Dogs, I'll just develop a hot dog shaped work out system. But I don't know if it's the hot dog or the special sauce that actually puts the weight on. If it's the sauce, I don't know how I'll ever be able to afford an Olympic sized swimming pool filled with sauce.

The Great Mistake

A few years ago I made a mistake. I decided to trade in our N64 and all our games for a Game Boy Advance SP. I didn't realize this was a mistake until much later when my wife revealed to me the fact that she missed playing Mario Kart with me. Now my wife detests all forms of electronic simulation. She can't stand video games in any format, and hates what they do to men my age. You know, playing seemingly mindless games for hours on end with my "idiot friends," neglecting familial responsibilities, etc. So for her to say, "I miss playing Mario Kart together. It was the only video game I ever liked and will ever play," was a big deal.

My mission was clear. Within fifteen minutes I had a console, controllers, and Mario Kart on hold for me. I brought it home, put the kids to bed, and my wife and I rekindled a fire we had been too long without. It was amazing how something so simple could be so great. I just thought you should know, that it's never too late to correct a big mistake. Tonight I made things right again, and for the record once again,

"I'm a Luigi, I'm a number one."

Cold Pop Corn

I love popcorn. Every time I go to a movie I have to get a bag of $5.00 popcorn. It's gotten to the point where it's no longer a habit but more of a compulsion. I tried to resist it the other night but just as I got up to the counter to buy my wife a drink, they unleashed a fresh batch of authentic movie theatre popcorn. It was too much. I bought a bag and revelled in the buttery freshness.

I have to eat popcorn when I watch a movie at home too. But home popcorn is different than movie theatre popcorn. No matter how much they may claim that it tastes just like movie theatre popcorn, it never does and never will. I have accepted that though and come up with my own solution.

Whenever I pop popcorn I immediately take it out of the microwave, open the bag, and then place it in the fridge. That's right people. The fridge. After ten minutes, the popcorn has cooled and is starting to get stale. This takes it as close as I can get to movie theatre quality. I don't know why I like it cold I just do. Jamie has seen me do this and thinks it is completely weird. She's right about this. It is completely weird. But I do weird things (See AI07 Confession for example).

Death Trap

What's wrong with this picture? I'll tell you what's wrong. The woman seated ever so comfortably in this chair of physical torture weighs much too little. In fact you may even notice how wide this piece of machinery is. I bet you could at least fit a 350 pound man on this thing. But will you ever see one? NO! Because even though, this wonderful invention is advertised to fat slobs who stay up until 3:00AM every night, watching TV; there is no way one would ever be able to conduct the very motion the ab lounger creators intended for them to do. These people can't even bend over and touch their toes let alone strap themselves into a raised lawn chair and do a series of rigorous crunches. I mean, honestly people. They couldn't even maneuver themselves into the thing without risking serious injury.

Now it is not my intention to make fun of fat people. On the contrary the people who made this thing are the ones making fun of fat people. They're the ones telling all of us that we too can have a perfectly sculpted body and amazing hand, eye, torso coordination. I have a hard enough time patting my head and rubbing my belly at the same time, let alone strapping into the beach chair and touching my toes while sideways. And I'm not fat! Can you imagine an obese person doing this? I can and that's the other thing that bothers me about this. The fact that I can imagine it and it never ends well. In my dreams the dude always ends up on the floor tangled in between the cnc aircraft grade aluminum poles and nylon cover. It's just inhumane. If you're going to build an exercise machine, don't tease us. Build one that's easy enough for all of us to do without risking serious injury or embarrassment.

I think that's why they make these things so portable too. So after you pull your groin for the seventh time, you can quietly admit defeat, pack it up and hide it under your bed never to be seen again. Who wants to be reminded of the hernia they got from trying to touch their toes while tied down to a lawn chair? Not I.

AI07 Confession

It's time for confession. I fantasize about being the winning contestant of American Idol. Yeah, I just said that. I usually do this in the shower. See the shower is the most important place in my home. The shower is where I get my inspiration. I think it's the process of the water penetrating my thick hair that lubricates my brain and causes a mass explosion of creativity. I do my best thinking in the shower. I right all my best songs in the shower. I come up with the best come backs to past insults in the shower, I once spent two hours in a shower and when I emerged, I had a completed screenplay in my hands. The shower is my special place. It also happens to be the place where I act out my American Idol fantasies. This can be dangerous though. I have to make sure I don't get too into my number while in the shower. I've injured myself during power vocals. You know how it is, you're hitting that part of the song where you spread your legs out as if you're about to go into a windmill (if you were playing the guitar) and you outstretch your mic hand and tilt your head up. Then you really belt it out. The only problem is when conducting this maneuver in the shower, you risk slippage and therefore serious injury. I don't know how many times I've pulled something before slamming down on the tub floor, taking the shower curtain with me.

When I'm not working on my audition skills I usually just fold my arms, face the water, and lean up against the wall. This is my meditation stance. I like to turn the hot water up for this one as it helps me relax even more. I get the most out of my brain during this time in the shower. All my deep thoughts derive from this. Fortunately for me, I don't have to pay the water bill.

Don't Touch The Hotness!

We took a call from a young woman who demanded Paramedics to treat extensive burns she had just received. When asked how she burned herself she painfully exclaimed in a thick Indian accent,

"I touched the hotness!"

An officer was sent along with Paramedics. The officer arrived on the scene first and found the patient in her apartment. The patient demanded to know where the paramedics where. Our officer looked at her and said something to the effect of, "where are you burned?"

At that point the woman's eyes welled up with tears and she raised her index finger in the air. It took a second for the officer to realize that the woman had only been burned on her index finger. Apparently this injury was traumatic enough for her to warrant calling 911 and having the paramedics come screaming into her complex, lights and sirens blazing. But hey, what can you expect when you touch the hotness?

Paramedics arrived and she demanded transport to the ER. They were eventually able to get her to calm down by offering to apply liberal amounts of burn cream (usually reserved for the char broiled) on her injured finger.

There is something to be said though, for touching the hotness. Sometimes we aren't thinking clearly and we touch the hotness. The burn surprises us so much we need copious amounts of TLC to regain our composure. I remember the last time I touched the hotness, man it was crazy. But that's another story for another time.

Womens Jeans

Back in the eighties jeans were tighter. I don't dispute this. Some of them even tapered at the ankles. In the nineties the tapering effect really took off and was evidenced in almost every kind of pants. But in the eighties jeans were tighter. Now often times, in my opinion, music and fashion heavily influence each other. They speak to each other like the volatile lovers they are. Sometimes they fight and some times they make sweet love creating "the next big thing." Punk rock was big in the eighties too. And what did rockers wear in the eighties when they were rebelling against the spandex clad corporate rockers (no offense Van Halen, you know I would never say anything to hurt you!)? They wore jeans. And jeans tended to be tighter in the eighties.

Now every decade likes to go retro to some degree. This trend in fashion tends to mathematically calculate that whatever was fashionable 20 years prior will be called upon to influence the current fashion climate. So the eighties are back. You've probably noticed it yourself. But, as is the case with every current decade, the influence is often exaggerated. And so I give you: skin tight jeans on men.

Yes, in the eighties jeans were a little tighter. But today young men everywhere are starving themselves like the women of the eighties did and still do just so they can fit their pubescent bodies into a pair of Victoria Secret brand women's jeans. Does anyone else find this disgusting? This is the most dangerous fashion trend in five years. And it's causing the emasculation of our teenage youth en masse. This has to stop. But rock bands everywhere have adopted the trend and are perpetuating it with full force. Their videos depict them in tighter and tighter denim, kicking and power strumming with wide legged abandon. Kids see this and begin to "rock out" (rocking out is the action of moving one's head up and down, sometimes violently, while jumping or rocking back and forth whilst sitting. Often times rocking out includes raising one or both hands in the air in symbolic gestures implying devil worship or resisting the man). This action of "rocking out" subconsciously reinforces the image of the band in the rockee's mind. Once reinforced in the mind of the child, the slightest amount of music from that band or even their genre can trigger a flashback so powerful the child will do anything to emulate the band. Is it any wonder why women's clothing stores have replaced Michael Bolten with The White Stripes? They know that teenage males everywhere are now willing to do what a decade ago was unthinkable. They arrive in these stores loud and proud of their desire for thin women's jeans. They come in groups ready to spend their hard earned lawn mowing money on this overt form of emasculation. But what of the cost to the women in our society?

We've known for years that women tend to compete and compare themselves to one another. Advertisers have been shamelessly exploiting this fact since advertising began. It's cruel and horrible but it's real. Once women compared themselves to the latest touched up celebrity when trying on jeans but now they have to compete with the indomitable metabolism of teenage males. Women go to try on jeans and see a teenage male in the size 2 they long to be able to fit in. It's the ultimate slap in the face. Today's corporate rock industry has caught onto the once fresh punk revival and has created legions of bands who all dress this way. Corporate rock and the fashion world have joined forces to control women even more through the perpetuation of this abominable trend. It's killing two birds with one stone really. The fashion industry successfully emasculates teenage boys making them much more likely to become metro sexual fashion consumers or homosexuals. The corporate rock industry uses the extreme peer pressure created by this fashion trend to sell many more sales. All kids have to do is see a new rocker in tight women's jeans and suddenly that "artist" now has the street cred needed to own their hearts. The fashion industry wins again because once again they've been able to wear down the collective female psyche and demoralize them even more into submission or banishment. It's just awful. But do you know who the real loser is in all this? The skate board industry.

The skateboard industry has traditionally reflected the values of rebellion against what's fashionable or trendy. But now the current generation of kids largely skateboard or at least want to look like they do due to corporate rock's adoption of skater fashion and subsequent infusing of women's jeans. Suddenly every kid on a skate board is wearing women's jeans. This is bad for skating. These jeans are so tight it's almost impossible to move let alone land a pop shovit. The godfathers of modern skating are perplexed. And there's nothing they can do short of starting a public service campaign instructing kids that tight women's jeans are uncool.

What can be done to stop this insidious fashion blunder? It has to start at the grass roots level. Talk to your kids about the importance of gender. Men should never wear women's clothing. Teach them about music and the evils of corporate rock. Corporate rock would have you and your children believe that it's gone but it's not. Corporate rock is bigger and more powerful than it ever has been. Listen to the radio and you'll see. The music's all the same. It's all the same!!!

In closing, I'm mad at fashion. Why did they do this to us? Why are they doing it to our children? I'm mad at the music industry. Why are they jumping on this? Why do they continue to mass produce bad music? Why are they destroying rock?! You probably already know the answer to these questions. Money. Women's jeans have always been more expensive than men's jeans. And true rock has always sold more records. The music industry has discovered a way to mass produce rebellion and market it to our unsuspecting youth while at the same time watering it down from its true rockness, thus polluting the joy that is rock. And how have they done this? With skinny women's jeans. It's a vicious cycle and I hope you'll join me in educating our youth about this horrible crime.

Mystery Chips

The other night I came into work and found a gigantic bag of potato chips. This bag was stuffed full of potato chips. This wasn't like an ordinary bag of potato chips, you know, full of air. This was a bag with weight and substance to it. The bag was out on the counter, seemingly in the open but I had to be sure. I started casually asking people in the office if they knew who the owner of the large bag of chips was. No one knew and then someone said what I had been waiting for,

"Well they're out in the open, so I guess they're probably for everyone to eat."

Yes! I had been officially absolved of any guilt or responsibility and could freely indulge my curiosity. Surely a bag this full of chips had to mean something. I had been analyzing the situation all night. A bag of chips that big could denote its origin being from a bulk discount center like Sam's Club or Costco. But this bag showed evidence of having hardly any air stored in it before it was open. To me this could only mean one thing: The manufacturer had total and complete confidence in his product. The manufacturer knew that these chips were so delicious that it would be a crime to fill the bag only halfway with the actual product. I walked up to the bag in question and hefted it. Its weight was very satisfactory indeed. I peered inside the open bag and examined the tears at the top. It was clear that whoever had opened this bag of chips had done so with reckless abandon. Surely everything was adding up. These had to be the best chips in the world. Why else would someone tear into the bag with such violence of action? I looked deeper into the bag, this time to examine the actual contents. I was impressed that the structural integrity of the majority of the chips was not only intact but appeared to be quite solid. This could only mean one thing: Kettle cooked chips. I quickly looked at the outside of the bag. I was right. These were of a homemade quality and durability that only a factory steeped in tradition could produce. I reached inside the bag and removed a chip. Its aroma danced around my nostrils implying the tapestry of intricate taste and delight I was surely in for. I placed the chip on my tongue and it began.

The room went white and air began to thin. I looked up and saw the universe before my eyes. Stars were streaking past me at incredible speeds until only thin stream of light were visible all around me. A vortex of light appeared in the distance directly in front of me and I knew that I was approaching something beautiful. I struggled to remember how to breathe. I felt my body relax amidst the dazzling display of space and time. Suddenly it was over just as fast as it had begun. I looked around. Know one had noticed my reaction to the chip. I had never tasted anything like it before and I was sure I would never taste anything like it again. I slowly regained my breathe. My body was shaking from the excitement of the experience. I slowly walked back to my desk momentarily forgetting about the bag of delight on the counter. My coworker caught sight of me and asked,

"So how are the chips?"

"Eh, okay I guess," I lied. "I've had better," I said selfishly.

The bag is still in the office. Others have tried these chips and I can tell by the changed looks on their faces. We who have eaten them can identify each other. Soon the bag of chips will be gone. I never found out from whence they came or to whom they belonged. I don't even know if I can find them again. I hesitate to look for them in any store. I do so because should I find them and partake again, I may not return from the cosmic journey they will undoubtedly create.

My Daily Schedule

I work graveyard shifts. I work from 11:00 at night to 7:00 in the morning Sunday night to Friday morning. I need 7 to 8 hours of sleep every day as most human beings in my age group require. My typical schedule starting Sunday night goes like this:

Sunday night I try to sleep three hours before I go in for work. This allows me just enough rest to stay awake and alert until I get home in the morning.

At work, I work and I stay awake. Then I get off work at around 7 to 7:15 in the morning and I drive home. I get home between 7:15 and 7:30 in the morning. I walk in, take my boots off, go into my bedroom, take off my clothes and crawl into bed. By then it's between 7:20 and 7:35 in the morning). At around this time or a little later, say around 8:00 in the morning, my daughter comes in and wakes me up if I have fallen asleep, with, "The sun is up, it's time to get up Daddy." At that point she crawls into bed with my wife and I and wants "to snuggle with Mommy." Once she's in the bed, she will usually begin telling me about the night's dreams she had. At around 8:30 to 8:45 AM I drift off to sleep.

I am woken up any time between 12:30 and 1:30 PM. On a good day, this equals 5 to 6 hours of good sleep. On a bad day it equals 4 to 5 hours. If I get to sleep those 3 hours before the next shift starts that adds up to a total of 7 total hours on a bad day and 8 to 9 total hours on a good day.

Now I would say that I have more bad days than good days as far as sleep goes. I would say that my average is around 5 to 6 total sleep hours per day. But you have to take into consideration something I call "The Man Factor." When a man complains about something in his life he tends to exaggerate either he makes something out to be too great or too little depending on the circumstances and which description will benefit his side of an argument or garner him the most sympathy. So taking into account "The Man Factor," in my self reporting, I would say that I probably average 7 hours of sleep per day. That's one hour short of what we need but it's very doable. Now in all honesty I do have certifiable bad days. Days when I am woken up at 12:15 after falling asleep only 5 hours before. And sometimes the way I get woken up is just bad. Who needs to wake up to absolute stress after only 5 hours of sleep. There have even been days when I've had to get up with only 3 hours of sleep. Those are rare but I don't forget them.

Now I have two young kids and so this kind of thing is to be expected. I accept that. But let's keep moving here, there's still more of my day to cover.

So I get up at, on a good day, 1:30PM and go to the bathroom. I get myself together, take a shower, etc. So I'm ready for the rest of the day by around 2:15 PM. So let's see how much time do I have left in the day from this point? I have to go back to work at 11:00 PM. So on a good day I have 9 whole hours left in the day. Now if you're generous and allow me to sleep three hours before I go into work then I really only have about 5 hours. Now in how many of those hours are my kids up? They go to bed between 7:00 PM and 8:00 PM. So that gives me about 5 hours with them. Now once I get up my wife usually has some things that she needs to do and needs me available to watch one or both of the kids to make, those tasks easier to accomplish. My wife is a capable woman who can accomplish the items on her to do lists with both kids in tow if she needs to.

Now I also go to school part time. I have mountains of reading for one class and hours of lab time for another. The lab time gets cut down significantly because I have the software needed to finish my projects on my laptop. This way I can work whenever I have a chance. The reading unfortunately takes a huge hit. It is impossible to read my assignments at home with my family present. By now you've probably figured out that I don't have too much time to be with my family. If I were to go to the library for 2 to 3 hours to read each day and then spend another 2 to 3 hours each day working on my lab assignments, well you get the idea. No time at home with the family, which in my life is mandatory by choice.

Often at home I play with the kids to keep them entertained during the time I am awake. This gives my wife a welcome break at time and opportunities to to work on her packages or other things that she wants to do, or things that need to be done around the house.

I struggle with doing what I need to do during the time I have between shifts. I have been trying to run a business and it's just not working. I just do not have the time I need to do what needs to be done to get it off the ground the way I want to. It requires travel within the area and time with clients. Time I just don't have. I have to divide my time with cleaning up the little disasters that occur in one's life on a daily basis, school, spending time with my children, and wife. So that's my life right now. I spend most of my "Internet time" at night when it gets slow and even that is not that much. I always have a plan when I get home for what I need to do when I wake up and I never accomplish it. There's always something that comes up or gets in the way or takes greater precedence.

I need to start taking my own advice about success.