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May 27, 2007: Now This Is My Kind Of Incentive!
May 27, 2007: The Problem With Garden Turtles Is There’s Never Enough Meat For The Soup
May 26, 2007: My Lost Meta Movie Theory 1. When Charlie enters the code in the underwater station, the keys he presses sound Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys. What significance does the choice of Good Vibrations hold here? What if it were a reference to the song’s use in Vanilla Sky with Tom Cruise? If so, that may offer an explanation for what’s happening. 2. Recall also that Rachel Ticotin plays Captain Teresa Cortez who is Ana Lucia’s mother on Lost. What significance does this hold here? What if this were a reference to Rachel Ticotin’s role in Total Recall? If so, then consider this more insight into what’s possibly occuring on Lost. 3. Time for the obligatory The Matrix connection. The amazing Harold Perrineau plays “Link” in the second and third films of the Matrix trilogy. The Matrix considers what is reality. (It’s perception, baby, perception.) 4. Oh, yeah, that underwater station in Lost is called “The Looking Glass”--as in Alice in Wonderland, who went down that rabbit hole, which, of course, figured prominently as a metaphor in the previously mentioned flick with Mr. Perrineau. Can you dig it? I knew that you could. 5. Now recall that Locke loves games, right? Ok. Think of the flick, The Game. Are you still with me. . . ? SO: What if everything on Lost were a “therapy program” with everyone an unwilling participant except for perhaps Locke--who was wheelchair bound before the plane crash? I’m betting it is. The good news is that by the time season four arrives next year, I’ll probably have had time to watch the first three seasons again. It’s still the best show on television.
May 23, 2007: Four Without Pictures My better half finds the words better than I ever could.
May 19, 2007: Afternoon On Our Deck
May 17, 2007: Take A Left On Right Street
May 15, 2007: The Ultimate Retrobuzz I know I’ve angered people, but I wanted to make a public apology to Step Away From The Barbies for upsetting her. I’ll be back in a couple days. Only a few hours into this “40 thing” and I’m causing problems. Sheesh.
May 14, 2007: Retrobuzzes XII/XIII As much as I dig music, I seldom have time to listen to my tunes. I don’t own an MP3 player, and, on average, I might purchase a couple new compact discs each year. It really amazes me how much has changed since my college days when I was green in judgment and bought at least a dozen albums a year. I like different music. In the past decade, I’ve gravitated to listening to more jazz and western swing. But I always return to the classic rock tunes. As I drove home from work today, I listened to Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits (Volume 1). “Like a Rolling Stone” is like an old friend to me. The song never grows old and feels as comfortable as a trusty, ragged pair of jeans that I’ve enjoyed wearing for years. When I first posted my “Motoring Mix” entries, I had planned three installments. But for one reason or another, I never found the time to post the third and final entry. Fitting, isn’t it? April 26, 2005: Motoring Mix Part I Some songs improve in quality when I hear them while driving. Maybe it’s the freedom I experience when I cruise the highway. Whatever the reason, I burned a compact disc with several of my favorites. Here’s my November 21, 2003, “Motoring Mix”: Track 1: “Back in the USA”/Chuck Berry I dig Chuck Berry. But I love Johnnie Johnson’s piano stylings on Berry’s tunes. On “Back in the USA,” after Berry’s guitar sounds the first few notes, Johnson takes the lead, and for most of the song’s remainder, his play dominates Berry’s signature guitar riffs. During his lifetime, Johnson, a native West Virginian, never received the public acclaim he deserved. Few know he served as the inspiration for Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” He passed away earlier this month. He will be missed. Favorite car hum-along moment: Johnson’s piano solo after Berry yearns to be back “in ol’ St. Lou.” His lead packs a good wallop, and sets the perfect groove for Berry’s later guitar solo. Track 2: “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”/Tears For Fears This song embodies the perfect groove. That opening synthesizer in the first couple seconds grabs me every time. And maybe now is a good time to mention my “Kitty Hawk” rule on pop songs: A truly excellent pop song must hook the listener in under twelve seconds; if the hook takes longer than twelve seconds, then the chances of the song reaching top forty status diminish with each passing nanosecond over the twelve second mark. I’ve tested many pop songs using the “Kitty Hawk” rule, and in most cases, the rule holds true. Every song on my “Motoring Mix” follows the “Kitty Hawk” rule. I never tire of listening to EWTRTW. I burned this as my second track to guarantee I hear it on my trips and also because I saved the more upbeat tunes for my highway drive--after I’m out of the city limits. Favorite car sing-along moment: I don’t sing this one often, but I enjoy the crescendo preceding the line “Say that you'll never never never need it.” Track 3: “Walking On The Sun”/Smash Mouth When this song topped the charts, my dad’s illness had landed him in the hospital and I could not catch a break at anything in my life. That was the summer I wore a full-size eagle costume as my employer’s mascot for our Charleston’s “Corporate Cup.” Then when I participated in the “bed race,” which involved a team of four pushing a bed down a gym floor (two pushed, two rode), the bed almost ran over me. My job sucked. I had no girlfriend. All my good friends lived elsewhere. But hearing “Walking on the Sun” made me forget all that shit. It still does almost eight years later. Favorite car sing-along moment: “Twenty-five years ago they spoke out and they broke out of recession and oppression and together they toked and they folked out with guitars around a bonfire just singin' and clappin' man what the hell happened. . . .” I’m still trying to figure that one out myself. Track 4: “Bargain”/The Who “Who’s Next” offers several excellent “motoring” picks: “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” “Baba O’Riley,” and “My Wife.” If I were making the selection today, I would include “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” But in November, 2003, “Bargain” received my nod for inclusion on this mix tape. Favorite car Track 5: “Teen Angst”/Cracker My sister introduced me to this tune when I worked as a corporate lawyer. “Cracker” (the debut album) and “Kerosene Hat” qualify as awesome driving albums. Chances are I’ll listen to one of them when I miss my motoring mix. Favorite car sing-along moment: “Cause what the world needs now is a new Frank Sinatra so I can get you in bed. Cause what the world needs now is another folk singer like I need a hole in my head.” As a single lad, I loved belting these lyrics to myself. These days, however, it doesn’t work nearly as well with my wife and two kids in the car. Track 6: “Planet Claire”/The B-52s If you count the “space beeps” comprising its introduction, then “Planet Claire” breaks my “Kitty Hawk” rule. But Ricky Wilson’s “Peter Gunn” guitar work rocks. You keep your “Love Shack.” I’ll take this one over “Rock Lobster” every time. Favorite car sing-along moment: Hitting the rewind button before Fred Schneider opens his mouth. Track 7: “Road Runner”/Jonathan Richman I didn’t learn who Jonathan Richman was until I met Paula Kamen, a friend of my sister. Having heard a copy of my band’s (The Hoyts) tape, Paula compared my voice to Jonathan Richman. I didn’t know if that were a good thing or not, and I decided to investigate the matter. Needless to say, I discovered that I did sound a little like Jonathan Richman, and if you’ve heard Mr. Richman “sing,” then you have a pretty good idea of how I sound. Jonathan Richman’s cover of “Road Runner” squashes the original. Richman has stated that his band performed better versions than the one contained on his album. I cannot imagine how he could improve on this one. Note: For many years, I thought Richman sang “I’m in love with plastic Jesus.” My wife, who has better hearing than I, later corrected my mistake and noted he’s really singing “I’m in love with Massachusetts.” If you ever listen to his cover, you’ll forgive me for this honest error. Favorite car sing-along moment: Let’s scream it! “ROAD RUNNER, ROAD RUNNER!! GOIN’ FASTER MILES AN HOUR!!!!” Track 8: “You Really Got Me”/Van Halen If nobody else will admit it, then I will. When I need to engage in my I’m-sixteen-and-my-parents-are-gone-for-the-weekend-behavior, I like me some Van Halen. Ditch the Kink’s original. Favorite car sing-along moment: Hitting my 1999 Toyota Camry’s accelerator at the 1:24 mark when Eddie Van Halen’s solo begins. April 29, 2005: My Motoring Mix Part II Here’s Part I (if you missed it). Track 9: “Banditos”/The Refreshments Before we learned how to “rip, mix and burn” our own music, we bought the entire record album for that “one song.” More often than not, the expression “one hit wonder” came to mind after listening to the other ten or eleven tracks. In 1996, I took a big risk when I bought The Refreshment’s “Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy” having only watched the band’s video for “Down Together.” Was I ever rewarded for taking this risk. “Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy” is by far the best “blind” purchase of an album I have ever made. From start to finish, each track on the album rocks as hard as the next, which translates into one amazing road trip disc. Dig these lyrics from “Blue Collar Suicide”: I can't sleep cause she snores like a chain saw Wow, I thought. Great guitar, nice opening track. Then I heard the fuzz guitar on “European Swallow” and these lyrics: So this big old guy comes up to me Needless to say, I was hooked before I had even heard “Down Together.” And I could go on and on and on about how much I love this album, but thanks to the wonder of the internet, Amazon will tease you with the snippets and hopefully convince you to plunk down the 15 bucks because, truth told, you really need to own this album. Oh yeah. I haven’t mentioned why I selected “Banditos.” Hold on, as Sam and Dave urge, it’s coming. Favorite car hum-along moment: The Refreshments must have known they were making the perfect road song when they recorded “Banditos” because the opening lyrics set the tone for the rest of my entire sing-along: So just how far down do you want to go Let’s not forget my favorite section of the chorus: Everybody knows A year later, I bought The Refreshments’ second album on the strength of that first album. After one listen the expression “Lightning never strikes twice in the same place” popped into my head. I sold it to Budget Tapes for nine bucks and bought some Miles Davis with the money. Track 10: “Basket Case”/Green Day Sometimes five chords are all you need. Those drum fills are perfect. Favorite car sing-along moment: Singing “grasping to control so I better hold on. . .” before those drums kick it up another notch. Track 11: “Fire”/Jimi Hendrix Everyone knows he’s one of the best guitar players ever. Here are a couple other facts that you may not know: 1) Before Hendrix achieved fame, he served as a supporting act for The Monkees; 2)Hendrix recorded for Frank Sinatra’s record label, Reprise. If opening for The Monkees and recording for Ol’ Blue Eyes doesn’t make you an American icon, you’d better learn to play your guitar after you set it on fire if you want to become one. Favorite car sing-along moment: “Now move over, Rover, and let Jimmy take over. . . .” And, Rover, I do believe that blistering guitar solo signals Jimmy has taken over. Track 12: “Middle of The Road”/The Pretenders May 15 marks my 38th birthday. Those last ten years have passed quickly. Don’t get me wrong (heh heh). I’m happy with most of the changes. But sometimes I think I’m having a mid-life crisis. I also wonder if I’m not cool anymore (assuming that I ever was cool, but that’s another story to tell). When I start wondering these things, track twelve rolls around, I hear Chrissie Hynde’s voice, and then I know being a parent over thirty doesn’t mean you can’t still be hip and happenin’: Can't you tell I'm going home, I'm tired as hell, “Middle of the Road” proves getting older doesn’t translate into losing one’s edge. Favorite car sing-along moment: Like “Banditos,” I enjoy singing the entire tune. But if I had to pick another few lines as my favorite (other than the above ones), I choose these: In the middle of the road, The politics are just icin’ on this musical cake. Track 13: “You Spin Me ‘Round”/Dead Or Alive Every road trip mix must include a “guilty pleasure” song. Favorite car sing-along moment: I think that’s obvious. Believe it or not, I still have four more songs left on this mix. Stay tuned for Part III!
May 12, 2007: Retrobuzz XI I taught Mom how to use the internet last decade. She’s one of the few people who read my first “home page,” which is the pre-historic version of today’s weblog. She never posts a comment here, but I know she visits. Each week, she’ll call and ask me for more details about what I’ve written. Sometimes she’ll skip reading what I post because it freaks her out a little--not that anyone imagining a talking chinchilla who has sex with over 700 different partners would cause anyone’s mother to express concerns about her son’s sanity. It’s easy to forget how special the people in your life are. Greeting card companies remind us to celebrate our birthdays, graduations and occasional successes. But more often than not, we save our accolades and applause for those people we love until after it’s too late. I’m not big on greeting cards, and, as far as I’m concerned, we shouldn’t need an official day or, unfortunately, a tragedy, reminding us to tell our family and friends how special they are and how much we love them. But there’s no reason why I can’t send Mom a “shout out” here this weekend, and I appreciate her good nature and willingness in allowing me to share today’s retrobuzz. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I’ll always be at your disposal. March 9, 2004: Reason No. 18 Why I Love My Mother Last week, Monday to be exact, I mailed our federal tax return. I know everyone's using e-file now except for my mom, who still has great difficulty loading and using the Turbo Tax® program:
May 11, 2007: Retrobuzz X Has something you imagined ever amused you so much that it caused streaming tears on your face? If not, consider that strike one as you prepare for the post following this pitch. You see, when the right conditions strike me, some things will prompt me to erupt into an uncontrollable giggle fit. Most of the times, my sister’s involved. Sometimes, it’s my wife. Basically, if you’re in the room when I have one of my classic giggle fits, then rest assured that I’m comfortable with your presence--although you may not think the same of me when you witness one of my classic giggle fits. The idea for this retrobuzz post occurred to me on a drive back from Huntington, West Virginia after I had covered a workers’ compensation hearing. What happened to West Virginia’s workers’ compensation system in the past decade would be funny, too, if it weren’t so sad, but that’s the subject of another non-retrobuzz for another day. I must have been pretty bored driving that stretch of I-64 (unlike the day that this retrobuzz happened), and my mind launched into a daydream. Don’t ask me how I dream up these things. I don’t have the answer, and if you do (and you well may), I don’t want to know. The more I thought about a chinchilla, the more it amused me. When I arrived home, I told my wife about my dream, and how I planned to post about it. And--this is the God’s honest truth--my idea caused her to erupt into a giggle fit. In fact, my wife actually provided some ideas for the post’s “list,” and as I typed, both of us couldn’t stop laughing. I’m telling you: Tears were coming out of our eyes. When I hit the “post” button, I had the utmost confidence everyone else would experience the same happy madness known as a “giggle fit” that my wife and I experienced. Man, was I ever wrong. Although a couple folks really enjoyed the post, most concluded that I was either: 1. On drugs; 2. In need of some serious help; or 3. On drugs and in need of some serious help. With that introduction, I now present retrobuzz #10. This one’s for you, Film Geek. January 28, 2005: Introducing Mr. Chinchilla “Hey, dude. . .” squeaked the voice, “over here.” I tightened my grip on the file in my hand and looked behind me. Nothing was there. “DUDE!” The voice now bellowed. “LOOK DOWN. . .” Then I saw him. He looked like a half-rabbit, half-rat on steroids, and he was wearing a tiny, black baseball cap turned backwards on his head. As he chewed on some orange pellet substance, he continued: “Do you have any raisins?” “I’m sorry, I don’t.” “I need my raisins. I’m finicky.” I looked around again, but nobody was near, not even the usual government workers who milled outside this Huntington workers’ compensation field office. I had even eaten breakfast (two Little Debbie™ heart-shaped brownies) that morning, and my blood sugar level wasn’t low. Maybe, I thought, it’s lack of sleep. “Listen to me,” as his voice took an urgent, yet still squeaky tone, “I need your help.” “Who are you?” “My real name is not relevant. But you may refer to me as ‘Mr. Chinchilla, Voice of Dissent.’” There was still nobody near, and I felt the sweat beads developing on my forehead. I haven’t had alcohol in months, and the last drug I took was a Tylenol™ pill three years ago after I received twelve stitches on my face when that plastic surgeon removed my basal cell cancer. “I’m real. Nobody else believes. But I am. We haven’t much time, either.” I didn’t want to return to my office anytime soon, and so I listened: “I want you to buy me some raisins. The Sunmaid™ kind with the lady wearing the bonnet on the package. Then I want you to go get some cotton, some felt, some fake chinchilla fur, and a tiny black baseball cap, and I want you to make an enormous chinchilla mascot suit for yourself.” “For me?” “Yes. I can’t do this alone. Do you have some poster board and a megaphone?” “No.” “You’ll need ‘em. You can’t voice dissent without them.” “What dissent?” “HELLO!! WAKEY-WAKEY, EGGS AND BAKEY!!! The dissent against war in Iraq! The dissent against the suppression of free speech! The dissent against those who support gay marriage bans! The dissent against the suspension of procedural safeguards for those accused of crimes! The dissent against the use of drapes to cover the boobs of an art deco statue in the U.S. Justice Department’s Great Hall! “Can I just bring you your raisins and go home?” “No. I want you to wear your homemade “Mr. Chinchilla, Voice of dissent” mascot costume, take a poster board sign protesting my above dissent, and grab a megaphone. Then I want you to stand outside The Charleston Town Center on Friday evening when everyone goes out to dinner because there’s nothing else to do in Charleston for entertainment, and I want you to express my protests for me.” “Why can’t you do this?” “I have no opposable thumbs. And somebody would step on me and steal my cap.” “But what about my self-respect, my dignity?” “Hah!” He laughed. “You’re a lawyer.” I paused. I’m having a discussion with a chinchilla wearing a baseball cap turned backwards who has just insulted me and my profession. “Ok. How about this. Let the people know about me. Tell them about me on the internet. Everyone has a weblog. You have one, right?” “Yes.” “Take this down. . . .”
Now here’s my “50 Things About Me List”: 1. I’m 19 years old. 2. I was born in captivity in Helena, Montana. 3. I have spent most of my life behind bars. 4. I have eight living siblings (five brothers, three sisters). 5. My mother ate two of my brothers and part of the hind leg of my oldest sister. My sister is now a professional breeder for a chinchilla fur farm somewhere in Canada. 6. I’ve done quite a bit of breeding in my life. 7. Breeding in captivity is not a bad thing. 8. I lost my virginity at age 4. I was a late bloomer. 9. I’m bisexual. 10. I have had over 700 sexual partners, including a rabbit, a weasel, and a rooster who was a professional cockfighter. 11. I’ve had only one serious relationship. It was with a female chinchilla, and we were married for three years. I divorced her because she wouldn’t stop biting me. 12. That marriage produced 223 chinchilla children. Most of them still write me. 13. I love raisins. 14. I’m more of a chewer than a gnawer. 15. I’ve never owned a television set. 16. I have seen Conan O’Brien, Oprah Winfrey and Jared Leto naked. Not all at the same time. 17. I can’t seem to grow dreadlocks. 18. Once, on a dare, I huffed baby lotion. 19. I have an allergy to cedar shavings. 20. I’m well hung. For a chinchilla. 21. I’ve been in some very, very dark places. 22. I quit school after second grade when I found out what “Send a Chinchilla to College” really meant. 23. My favorite song is “My Chinchilla” by Cub. 24. I’ve been mistaken for a ferret, a prairie dog, and one of the Hamster Dancers. 25. I’m a fabulous babysitter. 26. I can type seven and a half words a minute. 27. I’ve gotten drunk with Ben Affleck. But he’ll deny it. 28. I auditioned for the role of a Rodent of Unusual Size in “The Princess Bride,” but I didn’t get the part. I was, however, an extra in “Willard.” 29. Biology labs give me the creeps. 30. Carrots turn my crap orange. 31. Al Gore invented the chinchilla. 32. I invented Al Gore. 33. I’ve stalked PETA activists. 34. I have crushes on Cokie Roberts, Ellen DeGeneres, and Lambchop. 35. I’ve been served chinchilla meat by accident. I taste like chicken. 36. I am unique and charming. 37. I won a gold medal in the long jump. 38. My knees ache when it rains. 39. I’m a member of the Mile High Club. 40. I do not make a good pet, and I am not anyone’s monkey. 41. I was quite fond of the bowtie until I saw Tucker Carlson. 42. I have a B.M.I. of 83. 43. My I.Q. has never been tested. 44. My favorite films are “Stuart Little”, “Tie Me Up Tie Me Down,” and “Ishtar.” 45. I’ve seen “Milo and Otis” at least seventy times. 46. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. 47. I’m a proud patron of the Lion’s Den. 48. I was raised Jewish. 49. I am a non-practicing atheist. 50. I survived a botched circumcision.
May 9, 2007: Retrobuzz IX I could probably write a book about my experiences relating to my being Jewish. When I lived in New York City (cough, cough), one of my friends once joked “Are there Jews in West Virginia?” Why, yes, West Virginia, there are Jews in West Virginia. Of course, I’m still trying to determine who my fellow WVJB (West Virginia Jewish Bloggers) are, if any. I figure there have to be a few of us Hillbilly Jewish folk around the blogosphere here. This week, as our family began saying the Ha-motzi before dinner, our son interrupted with a prayer he learned in pre-school. We told him that right now we’re singing the Jewish prayer. Without missing a beat, my son replied: I’m Christian. Sigh. Here’s one of my favorite posts on being Jewish. You don’t have to be Jewish to enjoy it. November 28, 2005: Tales From The Electric Menorah It’s only twenty-seven days until Chanukah! That’s right, Chanukah falls on December 25th this year--and what better way to celebrate than with your electric menorah. We received our electric menorah in the mail today. When the delivery person brought it to our house, he rattled the door with such force that it caused my wife and me to emit screams, which, of course, reveals how often we have visitors these days. I must admit, however, that it’s better than watching a pit bull romp around your new neighborhood--but that’s another story. I never had an electric menorah when I was a little boy. Knowing my mother, I suspect she might have worried about my shocking myself with it because, you know, they didn’t have electrical outlet covers back then and, even if they did, I’m sure my mom would have told me some story about some little boy who received some electric menorah for Chanukah and who burned himself on it and, heaven forbid, we don’t want our little boy burning himself with some electric menorah. Now go ahead and help Daddy light those candles, son, and stop whining about not getting that Lite Bright set I don’t want you to have, either. But I’m not bitter. I really dig our electric menorah. I’m not as enthusiatic about its instruction manual, though. To wit, here is the first “Use and Care Instruction” for our new, electric menorah: a) When the product [that’s our electric menorah] is placed on a live tree, the tree should be well maintained and fresh. Do not place on live trees in which the needles are brown or break off easily. Keep the tree holder filled with water. Um. . . . Ok. . . Do you see anything unusual involving this first instruction? I mean, I know people place a lot of unusual things on their Christmas trees, but I don’t think an electric menorah is one of them. And, quite frankly, I don’t know too many Jews who opt for the traditional Christmas tree as their Chanukah decoration of choice. That brings me to the second directive involving care and use of our new, electric menorah, which is: b) If the product is placed on a tree, the tree should be well-secured and stable. Now I’m really scratching my head. Are they really suggesting what I think they’re suggesting: “Hey, honey. . .” “Yes, dear. . .” “Need a little help here. . .” “With what?” “The ladder. Can you hold it for me?” “Oh. . .is it that time already?” “Yeah, electric menorah at the top of our Christmas tree time.” “Cool. You know how I love your Jewish family tradition of placing the electric menorah at the top of the Christmas tree!” “I know. But you gotta be careful. Don’t want to tip that tree!” Maybe I’ll buy myself a Lite Bright set this year. I bet they have a design for an electric menorah. . .with the Christmas tree attachment sold separately.
May 8, 2007: Retrobuzz VIII I’m not in favor of deleting comments. To paraphrase The Fonz: “Suppressing a viewpoint that differs from yours is not cool.” In the almost three and a half years that I’ve blogged here, I’ve only had to delete one comment--which was a rambling, non-sensical, dadaist, spam-type post on an entry I had posted more than a year before the comment appeared. As a rule, I’ve never come close to having to delete anyone’s comments here chiefly for three reasons: 1) I have very few, regular readers; 2) Most of my very few, regular readers lurk; and 3) Those who do regularly comment here have already been paid a handsome sum by me to comment. It’s pretty clear then what I think about a president who silences his critics. So, how’s that $3.19 per gallon and war in Iraq workin’ for ya? July 14, 2004: That Ain’t America The morning paper reported the arrest of a young couple during President Bush’s speech at the Capitol on July 4. I suspect that this link may not be active much longer, but you can read the details on what happened here. [Update: I’ve provided a more current link in place of the older, expired link.] And what horrible act did this young couple perform, you ask? They wore t-shirts that displayed the message “Love America, Hate Bush.” They didn’t scream any profanities. They didn’t shout any protests. They didn’t utter any protests. They peacefully voiced their opinions on some fabric they wore. That’s it. “Love America, Hate Bush” isn’t obscene speech. It’s not comparable to someone who wears a jacket with a “Fuck the Draft” slogan emblazoned on the back. You would think that anyone stupid enough to wear a “Fuck the Draft” jacket in a county courthouse would deserve an arrest, right? WRONG. The United States Supreme Court decided that you could wear a “Fuck the Draft” jacket in a county courthouse back in 1971. I was four years old in 1971, and our television only received five stations, including PBS. Back then, school children didn’t wear t-shirts to school because t-shirts cost only a couple dollars and had not yet attained their cultural status. In 1971, t-shirts and jackets with the “f word” were not yet the fashion statements they would become when Corporate America™ realized the ridiculous profits it could reap by charging people to advertise their brands. More important, Corporate America™ had not yet understood the power of the “f word” either, or its commercial potential to sell tickets to R-rated movies. You can understand why using the word “f word” on a jacket represented such a big deal to people in 1971. Had this couple worn t-shirts displaying “Don’t Fuck With Texas” on them last week, I suspect they wouldn’t have worn handcuffs on that sweltering Fourth of July. That’s because our President is from Texas, and nobody gives a flying fuck if you use the “f word” anymore. (“Scarface” took care of that for us). But it should bother you that the law enforcement anywhere would arrest someone for peacefully expressing their opinions--and without colorful language. As a lawyer, I’ve read the United States Constitution. I’ve also read hundreds of cases interpreting the Constitution. And, quite frankly, I’m having a difficult time explaining how our local law enforcement--or our government--can arrest a young couple for wearing t-shirts on public property during a speech by the President on the Fourth of July when the evidence is that the couple did nothing to disrupt the speech and posed no danger to anyone. When I watched the news tonight, it reported the police charged the couple with “disrupting the peace” and “trespass.” Both of the charges are bogus, and when the ACLU finishes the defense of this couple, I’m confident that the court will toss this case. But that doesn’t solve the problem the next time some local law enforcement officials decide to silence speech that they don’t like. And it’s not only speech that the Bush administration wants to silence. It wants to prohibit gay marriage. I’ve spoken with several people about this issue, and I have yet to meet anyone who can explain how gay marriage undermines a union between a heterosexual man and woman. Everyone I’ve spoken to thinks the idea of an amendment to our Constitution to “protect” the sanctity of heterosexual marriage is ridiculous. I have to agree, and to devote further space to explaining “why” serves no purpose but to lend credence to the ridiculous proposition itself. So I’ll stop. As I see it, the presidential election this year is a referendum on tolerance for others and their views. Bush’s administration has shown more disregard for the rights of the American people than any administration I’ve seen. Whether my opinion reflects the majority or the minority of the people is a decision left for the first Tuesday in November this year. And this time, I hope I’m in the majority.
May 7, 2007: Retrobuzz VII I often wrote about politics the first couple years I maintained this site. I stopped because I’m disillusioned with the political process. So, how’s that $3.19 per gallon and war in Iraq workin’ for ya? March 4, 2005: The Department Of Protecting The Sanctity Of Marriage Rumor has it that President Bush will press for legislation to create a new government agency, which he, himself, has named: The Department of Protecting the Sanctity of Marriage. He’s going to need to pick someone to head the department, and, so, without further ado, let’s cue the Herb Alpert and play the “The Secretary of Protecting The Sanctity of Marriage Dating Game™.”
May 6, 2007: Retrobuzz VI My sister and I have a great rapport. She lives several hundred miles away, and I wish I could see her more often than I do. She’s really great about visiting our family, though, and we usually celebrate Thanksgiving and birthdays together. My sister also blogs, but she doesn’t write too often. When we spoke last night, I asked her why she wasn’t writing more, and she told me she was having difficulties with Google’s new blogger interface. I’m really tempted to purchase her a domain name for her like I did about eight years ago. That’s when my sister maintained a website devoted to “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.” She had developed quite a following for her site, which, ten years ago, received over 200 visits a day. She still maintains that site, too, but hasn’t updated it in awhile. My sister assisted me with the following post. We had a lot of fun drafting it together. I told her I was going to re-post it here, and she thought that was cool. I think it’s cool, too, and hopefully when my sister visits us later this month, she’ll help me create another post to share here.
June 12, 2004: Eight Simple Rules For Dating My Thirty-Something Sister I love my sister. Other than my wife, my son, and my mother, I adore her more than anyone else. And when someone upsets my sister, he upsets me. So let me make a suggestion to all you nerds, geeks, losers, tools, and jerks who want to date my sister. Here are my “Eight Simple Rules” for you: Rule 1: Use good grammar! My sister can forgive dyslexics. But if you’re not learning disabled, I urge you to learn how to use spellcheck. Proper subject and verb agreement is also important. Rule 2: Don’t bother my sister if you’re looking for an “athletic,” “adventurous” “traveller.” My sister’s idea of adventure doesn’t involve bungee jumping, sky diving or hang gliding. For her, trying a new restaurant = adventure! Rule 3: Don’t suggest anything European, k? She likes French and Italian food. Greek is fine, too. But, please, don’t suggest “whirlwind” and “Europe” together. Rule 4: Don’t assume anything my sister says on the first date should make sense. When my sister becomes flustered, her speaking skills deteriorate, and she sounds like she’s reading a resume. Rule 5: Be a good interlocutor! If you don’t know what “interlocutor” means, don’t bother. (Or use a dictionary for a change!) Rule 6: My sister loves making jokes about everything. If you think she’s being serious, she’s not. Don’t let it bother you. Lighten up. Rule 7: No touching. That’s not her rule, it’s mine. Rule 8: If you’re not interested in her, or you’re not attracted to her, don’t get drunk three weeks after the date, and write her the following: From: Major League Jerk To: My Sister Subject: sorry it's been so long sice i've emailed. I liked talkng to By the way, dude, next time you want to date someone, my sister suggests that you not lie about your height or lack thereof. WORD! May 5, 2007: Retrobuzz V In the early 1990s, I attended law school in New Orleans. Every year, we received a week off for the Mardi Gras celebration. One of my most indelible memories from this time is watching the dean of my law school--who was wearing antennae and a large black-and-yellow-striped bumblee outfit--tromp down St. Charles Avenue before one of the parades began. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s really one of those situations where “you had to be there” to appreciate it. The post that follows derives heavily from my last Mardi Gras experience circa 1993. I posted it more than a year before Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. When I hear Louis Armstrong sing “Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans,” I think I finally understand. February 24, 2004: Mardi Gras Handbook I noticed Yahoo! added masks and beads to its masthead this week. That can only mean it's Mardi Gras time again.
May 4, 2007: Retrobuzz IV It was very, very late when I wrote this post. Our little girl, who was then six weeks old, had a bad case of colic and wasn’t sleeping well. Every night she would wake us up with her screams, and my wife and I would take turns consoling her. On most occasions after we put her back to bed, she’d awake within an hour, and we’d start the process again. This continued for three months. On the night I wrote “This Is My Book Report,” I had finished rocking my infant daughter and decided that rather than attempt sleep, I’d write. What followed was a “stream-of-consciousness” entry that did not require any real editing. As a practice, I’ll usually engage in some editing when I write. But, once in awhile, if I’m lucky and my muse strikes, my post writes itself. In fact, the posts “that write themselves” comprise most, if not all, of my most favorite blog entries. It’s nice to find the words when you need them, but it’s something truly magical when the words find you. January 18, 2005: This Is My Book Report When you have two children who both wear diapers, it’s difficult to find time to read and write. (Ask my wife who finally found some time to complete a couple entries in her weblog). But last year, I did manage to finish several books, and given the current debate on social security, one of them, “What The Numbers Say: A Field Guide To Mastering Our Numerical World,” demands my mention. “What The Numbers Say” offers wonderful explanations of the statistics we often hear--but seldom consider--from our news. If Wiley Publishing, Inc. were the publisher of this tome, it would probably be titled “Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics For Dummies.” But, if you’re like me, you probably avoid most, if not all, books in the “Dummies” series. Allow me to digress. Yes, I have spent many hours of my life doing stupid things. When I was ten, I spent an entire afternoon digging a three-foot deep, four-feet wide hole in my parents’ backyard, covered the hole’s bottom with plastic garbage bags, and then nailed the plastic bags to the ground as the liners for my planned swimming pool. Neither Mrs. Walker, who lived next door, nor my parents appreciated my efforts, but--believe me--the neighborhood rats and mosquitos did. Except for one rat. My dad thumped it hard with a giant chunk of wood. It was the only time I ever saw my dad thump a rat. And, as my life would have it, this is one of those lasting images I have of my father. Building a cesspool when you’re ten years old is one matter. Reading a “Dummies” series book when you’re thirty-seven is another. I realize, of course, that somebody is reading these books, and that there is a market for “dummies” who desire to attend law school, massage their babies and/or care for their “cockatiels.” I need to digress again. Several years ago, I was watching an episode of “The People’s Court” with Judge Wapner, and there were two ladies who were disputing ownership of a cockatoo. And one of the ladies kept referring to the cockatoo as a “cockatiel,” and Judge Wapner kept correcting her, intoning “IT’S A COCK-A-TOO. COCK-A-TOO, MA’AM.” And the lady who called the cockatoo a cockatiel lost her case. It’s tragic, really, to think how many folks lost cases like this before Wapner because Wikipedia wasn’t around to tell us that the Cockatiel, Nymphicus hollandicus, is a small, rather atypical cockatoo with a distinctive pointed yellow crest. But back to my review of “What the Numbers Say.” I loved it, and you should consider reading it sometime if you’re interested in understanding practical applications of statistics.
May 3, 2007: Retrobuzz III I love baseball. Every year, I’ll devote some time to posting a few “Talkin’ Baseball” posts. I figure I’ve posted close to ten of these entries, but I can’t say that I’d miss more than a couple if I lost all of my baseball posts. It’s not that I don’t enjoy writing about baseball, it’s that as much as I love baseball, most of these posts don’t reflect my passion for the sport, and as a result, the results don’t satisfy me. As a general rule, I’m never happy with my posts on sports. Most of these entries recite statistics and bore me. I think they stink. And that rhyme was purely unintentional. It’s not easy for me to write about baseball--or any other sports--because I simply don’t have the | |||||||||||||
For my birthday, we took a trip to Cincinnati, Ohio. I dig Cincy because I can partake in some serious gluttony--more on that later. The Reds weren’t in town, but that’s ok because even if we had tickets, chances are we wouldn’t have arrived in time for the game. Have you ever driven from Huntington, West Virginia to Cincinnati? I don’t know about you, but it seems that every trip our family takes involves traveling for at least thirty miles behind someone in a ball cap driving a tractor fifteen miles an hour under the speed limit. I’m pretty sure that by the time we passed this fella that gas prices rose another ten cents.
Of course, no road trip is complete without use of your obligatory Google map. Google owns everything now but Wal*Mart, right? You would think that a company worth more than 140 billion dollars could design street maps that accurately reflect reality--or at least the proper exit in Cincy. But, no, just when you think it’s safe not to take “Exit G” because your Google map states that there’s an “Exit H” to take, there’s not really an Exit H, but that’s ok, because at least next time you’ll know better and use your Rand-McNally that you left in your other car at home. Then again, maybe by that time Google will have acquired Rand-McNally--if Wal*Mart hasn’t yet.
We stayed at a fancee hotel. Strangely enough, this marked the second time in less than a week that our family slept at a fancee hotel. I always dig reading the magazines at nice hotels, especially the ones that feature folks who live in million dollar homes with rooms that couldn’t possibly be designed for anyone with small children to inhabit. You know, these are the homes owned by folks who say something like “Well, I have to say that overall, I’m 98% pleased with the results, but I really wish that we had opted for the Italian marble over the terra cotta in the garden.” Or “5,500 square feet marks an improvement for our living space, but it’s still a bit cramped.” Yeah, and I bet you’ve never cleaned up cat barf from your flooded basement or peeled dried corn flakes off your mauve semi-gloss living room walls, either.
We stopped for lunch at 
We then enjoyed a nice seafood dinner. The shrimp was so good at this restaurant that my wife, who doesn’t like shrimp, even had a few. Seriously, these were some mighty succulent shrimp. Here’s a picture of me and the kids posing outside the seafood restaurant. I always love the expression on Seth’s face when we ask him to smile for the camera.
As I said, though, when I visit Cincinnat i, it’s all about the gluttony, so we also stopped for some ice cream at the Cold Stone Creamery . I’m not gonna bother with the link again because I’m contrarian and I’ve already mentioned several for profit companies without benefit of any compensation for doing so.
On Wednesday morning, the kids filled up the car with some free gas at the children’s museum. I really look forward to the day when I can look back on the year 2007 and remark to my wife, “Man, can you believe it only cost $44.00 to fill up your car? Now $44 will barely buy you a gallon.” Of course, I figure by this time most of us will be living out of cars, and Al Gore will be telling everyone “I told you so.”
Hi, I’m Mr. Chinchilla, Voice of Dissent. I’m homeless, I have no health care, and because I’m a chinchilla, I don’t receive the great pay of rats and bunnies for smoking three packs of Marlboros™ a day. I tried to sell my fur once to support myself, but PETA obtained an injunction against me. And Wal*Mart won’t hire me because I don’t have opposable thumbs. This is what happens when your American president imposes his ill-advised, imperialistic, fundamentalist, neocon agenda on the entire world. Chinchillas, like me, get screwed. I’m hoping you can help. If you don’t believe in the agenda of the current Bush administration, and want to help chinchillas like me, I’m asking that you show your support by making and wearing a “Mr. Chinchilla, Voice of Dissent” costume. Chinchillas are peaceful, friendly creatures, and we need to let the world know about one chinchilla’s dissent.
Hello, Secretorettes. I’m from Texas, y’know that big state shaped like, um, kinda like um, pointy at the bottom, an’ all big in the middle with a little piece stickin’ out there at the top. Remember the Alamode? Heh heh heh. Ok. Well, here in Texas, we’re known for being friendly, and the first thing I wanna hear from you Secreterriers is how you’re gonna greet me on your first day as head of my newly created Department of Protecting The Sanctity of Marriage Department. So come on now, little fillies, and give me one of those great big Lone Star State greetings to me.
Hello, Mr. President. How ya’ doin?
Hey.
Hello, hubby--er, great to see you today,sir.