Things on this blog have been way too heavy lately...

... So I am going to prepare you for the weekend with a delightful amalgamation of questionably entertaining postulation designed to make you cogitate.

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The lease on my car is almost up, so I set out recently to test drive two cars: the Pontiac Solstice and the Saturn Sky. It is the year of the cheap roadster, and both of these cars come in under 30-grand.

First, I stopped at the Pontiac dealership. After looking at a Solstice for a few minutes, a salesman walked up and asked if he could help. I told him I wanted to test drive one.

They don't allow test drives.

To repeat - They. Don't. ALLOW. Test. Drives.

With a "you're fuckin' KIDDING me" look on my face, I listened... as he told me it's because people don't want to buy a car with miles on it. No shit, Sherlock, but that's one of the real bummers of SELLING CARS.

I asked him how they expect me to buy one without a test drive, and he said I can test drive it after I've signed the papers and given them a deposit.

Obviously, I walked away at that point... mostly because I didn't want to risk the possibility that I would whack him on the back of the head with my elbow for being stupid.

I headed to the Saturn dealership for a look at the Sky. They had none in stock, they only get TWO in per month, and they have FIFTY people on a waiting list who have paid a 500 dollar deposit.

I suppose I will be sticking with a BMW, in the form of a Z4... although I really, really like the Sky... and I was kinda in the mood to save about 30 grand.

---

Bummer stickers (misspelling intentional) piss me off.

First: People! They make your car look like shit!

QUICK NON SEQUITUR: Barry Manilow, Looks Like We Made It, just came on my ipod. You're damned right it did... and I'm just man enough to admit I turned it up a little bit.

Second, stop being pious and spreading your "morality" via a plastic adhesive strip on the back of your 1975 Vega... instead, why not try leading your own life. (and leading by example) Who are you to tell me things like "You can't be catholic AND pro-abortion"? Maybe I should put one on my car that says "You can't read this bumper sticker AND have a large penis."

And those Jesus vs. Darwin fish stickers have more versions than Dennis Rodman's panty drawer. I suppose you expect to change my mind about evolution because I'm stuck behind your sorry ass on the outbound 70? More likely, I want to get out and hit you with a stick for riding your goddamn brakes.

Or, "Hungry? Eat your import." (irony, this American car was a piece of shit)

I HAVE laughed at a few:

"Got Pie?"
"Politeness is the most acceptable hypocrisy."
"Hype always prevails."
"Men have feelings too. Just kidding."

And, for whatever reason, I dislike the "honor student" bumper stickers... although, the one that says "My C average student can kick your honor-roll student's ass" makes me chuckle.

---

I intend to start an email forwarding campaign:

I sent you this email because you are a fellow victim. Your email address showed up on a list of recipients from a forward I received today.

Please forward this to anyone you wish would stop sending you forwards. Send it to everyone you know, and have them forward it to their friends. Once the message is clear that forwards waste bandwidth, time and resources, maybe we will all stop receiving forwards.

Help me in my quest to STOP THE MADNESS. Forward this anti-forward message to everyone on your mailing list!

The irony is, they probably wouldn't "get it." The campaign would probably be successful... and by "successful," of course I mean "unsuccessful." Catch 22.

Forwards are the scourge of the internet... especially the ones that talk about how Bill Gates is going to mail you a check for $35,000 just because you are stupid enough to click "forward."

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to respond to an email from a nice man from Nigeria, and then go mansion-shopping.

---

Interesting addendum: Yesterday's post about the anniversary of my failed marriage was the 666th post of my blog. Unintentional, which makes it all the more freaky.

September 13, 2000

On this date six years ago, I was on a beach in Maui, sweating inside a black tuxedo. I was getting married.

Today, I endure the memory and mourn the day. Mostly for what that relationship became. I never dreamed she would ever be an adversary... an enemy.

I suppose that's how divorce is.

During the marriage, I tried to do my best... succeeded a little, failed a little, and helped father a good young man (of whom I am very proud) as well as I could. I wasn't the perfect husband... I'm not sure if there IS such a thing... but I was decent, moral, protective, loving and real.

But a good marriage takes more than just not intentionally hurting someone's feelings (I never tried to)... not physically abusing someone (I wouldn't)... and just giving love. You need similar goals, personalities, approaches and views of the world. The way I looked at the world and how I dealt with issues sometimes offended her and made her uncomfortable. For that, I am eternally sorry. I am an alpha driver personality, she is an amiable. I should have noticed that more.

So today, I again make a note of my mistakes. I will think about the positives that came from the experience. I will try to ignore what lawyers say, and remember the real story. We both grew from the experience...

My daughter's boyfriend, and the space shuttle. Intellectually as far apart as possible.

First, an update. The boyfriend has been warned. I met with my daughter and him, remained civil and even tempered, and explained the severity of the consequences of a recurrence. He took it well, but that doesn't earn him any points... he hit my daughter. He's lucky to have a functional set of testicles right now. There will be no free passes, if it happens again he will find himself in an impromptu meeting with me and a ball bat.

She was surprisingly appreciative, and later I reminded her (quite fruitlessly) that she deserves better. Sheesh, what is it with kids these days?


What kind of idiot could hurt someone like this?

By the way, she is the new hostess at Bandana's Barbecue starting this evening. It's her first job, and she's pretty excited. I'm really proud of her.

---

The shuttle astronauts partipated in a space walk today, during which time a bolt and washer slipped from the astronaut's hand and drifted away into space.

It's too bad True Value hasn't yet launched their orbiting hardware store... that bolt would only cost like four cents to replace. As it stands, NASA will probably pay a thousand bucks for the bolt, and will have to launch a special mission just to replace it. (plus they'll probably bring a 3/8 inch head, when they really need a 25mm metric)

As for the washer, Maytag hasn't yet launched their orbiting appliance store, either...

Reverent silence...

Abuse (update)

Ironically, the word itself is frequently abused.

I've never seen a time when so many people are feeling so abused. Children being made to order from the kids menu or being told 'no' to certain desserts... are now feeling "abused." When a parent draws a line as to how their child's room is decorated (ie, "no, you can't put that picture up in the corner near the ceiling by itself, pick another place") the word recklessly flies. Even simply feeling insulted is now considered abuse by some.

People use it to describe many things that, arguably, aren't abuse at all. In divorces and legal actions, the word is frequently used to extort... which is an "abuse" of the system.

Culturally, when we throw the word around as loosely as we do, we risk the "boy who cried wolf" syndrome. I wish people would lighten up a little and examine their lives. Some are dealing with real, dangerous abuse every day.

My daughter, for instance.

This morning, I had to endure a story from her mother about a late-night phone call, during which she heard my daughter being hit by her boyfriend, being called names and screamed at. My daughter wouldn't tell her where she was, but asked if she could come home. Unfortunately, she didn't have the courage to leave... she stayed in that environment. This morning, I can't reach her, and am going just a little crazy wondering if she's okay.

That is abuse.

As a father, I'm struggling with how to handle it. My first inclination is to go find the kid and give him a mouthful of broken teeth. Jail time doesn't appeal to me, and I think it would backfire anyway... probably resulting in her resentment of me, and pity for him. I'm truly at a loss for how to handle it. This minute, I finally got a text message from her, so she's okay.

I will spend the day and the weekend considering the options. Meantime, it's a little difficult for me to hear the word "abuse" being thrown around so irrationally, when real, actual abuse is touching my life so profoundly right now.

UPDATE: It's amazing how ridiculous the laws of Missouri are. At age 17, she can move out, do whatever she wants, it's her decision. However, if she gets into trouble, it's still the parents' responsibility until she turns 18. This one of the few states where this age disparity exists.

The result is, I cannot issue an police-enforced ex parte of protection against him. It's up to her to do that... and she won't do it.

However, I have formulated a plan and will execute it Sunday evening. At this point, it doesn't involve the broken teeth scenario, but if he even so much as looks at me funny at the time, that could change. It may be her decision to continue seeing him, but I have the ability to make the abuse stop... and I will do just that.

How to tell when Dave has nothing to say:

Another CAPTION CONTEST!



Click 'comment' to enter.

Having built a reputation of giving away great prizes for these, I am beginning to feel the pressure to outdo myself each time. Last time, a hot sausage. This time, this beautiful Piggly Wiggly grocery cart, pulled fresh from the Arkansas River south of Little Rock. It comes with leaves, a used condom and three unidentifiable mammal carcasses. It's only been driven by a little old homeless lady on Sundays. This prize will NOT be delivered via UPS. It's a pick-up-only prize, as usual... but well worth the trip.

Now get busy.

Now that's a crock

First, may God rest Steve Irwin's soul and be with his family during this incredibly difficult time.

Quotes I've heard in the media today include what a great family man Irwin was.

I don't doubt that, but he was also a sensationalist attention seeker, who did things to provoke dangerous animals. You'd think that a guy who really WAS a great family man would do more to preserve his family circle.

It's a very sad story... and I do respect the work he did to help bring a focus on the animal kingdom.

But you can't say he didn't have it coming.

Happy Labor Day

Or, for my Canadian and British friends, Labour. (even though only Canada celebrates it this weekend, I believe England is in May)

The origins of the American Labor Day can be traced back to the Knights of Labor in the United States and a parade organized by them on September 5, 1882 in New York City. They were inspired by an annual labor parade held in Toronto, Canada. In 1884 another parade was held, and the Knights passed resolutions to make this an annual event. Other labor organizations (and there were many), but notably the affiliates of the International Workingmen's Association favored a May 1 holiday.

Labor Day has been celebrated on the first Monday in September in the United States since the 1880s. The September date has remained unchanged, even though the government was encouraged to adopt May 1 as Labor Day, the date celebrated by the majority of the world. Moving the holiday, in addition to breaking with tradition, could have been viewed as aligning the U.S. labor movements with internationalist sympathies.

Okay, is it too obvious that the two paragraphs above were cut/pasted from wikipedia?

Anyway, I just wanted to wish you a copius amount of rest, relaxation and fun this weekend. For a change of pace, go out and do something I would do.

Las Vegas ends late-night wedding-license service

LAS VEGAS, Aug. 30 — Las Vegas bills itself as ''the wedding capital of the world,'' but late-night revelers who decide they want to tie the knot now must wait until morning.
The county's marriage-license office, as of Wednesday, will be closed between midnight and 8 a.m., when much of Las Vegas is still very much alive. (LINK)

HUH?!?!?!

What kind of politically correct, wussified, cowardly, bullshit-world have we become???*

Las Vegas is the oasis of spice, debauchery and hookers in a figurative desert of sameness, boredom and "righteousness." When I want those things, I go to Iowa.

But Vegas is the place where you can see trannies dance, people puke up their $4.99 lobster dinner because of the free alcohol (oh wait, neither of those things exist anymore - my bad) and idiots on the precipice of insanity take the foolish dive into the hell that IS marriage because they drank too many Jaeger bombs. It's a beautiful thing!

And now it's over?**

Look, I know gambling is a sin. I realize buffet gluttony is an assault against the lord's temple, and yes... I am even aware that prostitution is frowned upon in certain religious circles. But come on! People should be allowed to enter the loving, tender, wonderful institution of late-night, alcohol-induced matrimony when the urge strikes. Make 'em wait until morning, and many of them will lose their buzz, er, gutts, bread tie they were going to use as a temporary wedding band.

I hope the zealots are happy. But in the words of Nathan R. Jessep in A Few Good Men, "All you did was weaken a [city] today. That's all you did. You put people's [marriages] in danger. Sweet dreams [city council]."

What happens in Iowa STAYS in Iowa.

--

*Satire, people. Satire.

**And I haven't even brought up the constant presence of Celine Dion.

Opinions are like a$$holes...

... everyone has one, and they all stink except mine.

In life, I'm a giver. If I have it and someone else NEEDS it, it's yours. I have a pickup truck, which is what real givers drive. Everybody needs a friend with a pickup.

I'm also an occasional borrower. I never borrow money, but I do occasionally borrow equipment, sugar, laundry detergent or a phone.

In this post, I am borrowing a concept from Lightning Bug's Butt, a brilliant blogger in my circle of cyber-friends. I'm not borrowing it directly, but sort of expounding on it.

Bug did an entry recently called "I Believe." It's a chance for people to leave a comment about something they believe in. Pretty simple, and really interesting.

Here's where I am borrowing: I am going to anonymously feature a few of the comments he got, and allow you to either agree or disagree, and say why. Be funny, tongue-in-cheek, whatever. Just try to be respectful. Sort of a point/counterpoint, minus Jane The Ignorant Slut. Remember, this is all about your comments, so leave one if you can.

Belief 1: I believe it's bullshit that "Christmas" has become a four-letter word. The word Christmas is purposely replaced with "holiday" everywhere it used to appear, but you can sure as hell recognize the holidays, customs and beliefs of every other religion, ethnicity and person of the world -- and are expected to. Fuck that, and MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Belief 2: I believe that schools should bring back discipline. I never would have dreamed to talk to my teacher the way some kids do.

Belief 3: I believe that EVERYTHING happens for a reason. I'm not sure if there is a higher power around it or if it's just the natural order of things. Even if it's something horrible..it was something that was supposed to happen. Sometimes we can't see the truth until the fog or dust settles.

Belief 4: I believe that Ron Popeill's Showtime rotisserie works. Works damn well.

Belief 5: I believe that any mom who says "I HAVE to work" is wrong...staying at home with your kids and giving them a firm foundation is WORK in and of itself. You CHOOSE to work, because of the lifestyle you choose.

Belief 6: I believe that God should be put back in the Pledge of Allegiance and in schools.

Belief 7: I believe I should be able to eat, drink, or smoke whatever the fuck I want to, and if you don't like it, it's none of your business. I believe that people who attempt to control under the guise of altruism (i.e., "I'm concerned for your health" or "it's for the children") are the biggest hypocrites on the face of the earth.

Belief 8; I believe I am sick and tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane.

Belief 9: I believe that kids are really spoiled these days and that parents should spend more time putting their foot up their bratty asses.

Belief 10: Women claim to want all the power, but they already have it but instead of admiting to it...much like the devil's greatest trick which is fooling people into thinking he never existed, women pretend they're under the control of men so they don't have to take the blame for everything. Typical. Women act as though men are animals only wanting them for their bodies, yet they brag about how tight their jeans are.

Belief 11: I believe that prayer is a great way for people to meditate and organize their thoughts and priorities, that there is a greater power than ourselves, but that nobody is listening or paying attention to us here. There is NO explanation that I can accept as to how a "Loving, Attentive God" let's babies starve to death while flies lay eggs in their eyes.

If any of this makes you feel like gouging your eyes out, here's your chance to say so. Pick a subject and opine. Anonymous posts are fine, if you need that.

Last one to comment is a rotten egg!

In the words of Charlie Brown...

Aaaaaarrrrggghhhhh!!!*

People actually believe the things they get in their email boxes. For instance: (cut/pasted from an actual forwarded email I received this morning)

> When asked this riddle, 80% of kindergarten kids got
> the answer, compared to 17% of Stanford University seniors.
>
> What is greater than God, More evil than the devil,
> The poor have it, The rich need it, And if you eat it, you'll die?
>
> Send this to 10 people and then press shift and you
> will get the answer.
>
> P.S. You won't believe this, but this really does
> give you the answer!!!!

Obviously the answer is "nothing." But it perturbs me that people believe the answer will appear on your screen when you forward this to 10 people.

Hint: of course it doesn't work so stop forwarding it!!!! This is why the internet is so congested. Oh, and because of bloggers. (gulp) Sorry.



*Other interesting Charlie Brown quotes:

“In the book of life, the answers aren't in the back.”

“Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.”

“There are three things in life that people like to stare at: a flowing stream, a crackling fire and a Zamboni clearing the ice.”

"I've developed a new philosophy... I only dread one day at a time.”

“If I stand here, I can see the Little Red Haired girl when she comes out of her house... Of course, if she sees me peeking around this tree, she'll think I'm the dumbest person in the world... But if I don't peek around the tree, I'll never see her... Which means I probably AM the dumbest person in the world... which explains why I'm standing in a batch of poison oak.”

But my favorite one is probably still "Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!"

Life as a guy...

This is pretty funny. I've never felt like this at all... no, never once. ;)

Why

Why is the plural of medley actually 'medleys...' but the singular of calories is 'calorie?' Who came up with these spellings, a third grader?

---

Why don't speeding tickets come with two check boxes -

A: You speed, you pay a small fine.
B: You "buy down" the speeding to a non-moving violation and pay a larger fine.

We could totally take those miscreant attorneys (and why isn't it spelled 'attornies'?) out of the equation and leave them to deal with the REAL issues... like frivolous misuse of the court system by gold-digging former spouses.

---

Why doesn't Google stop hosting Blogger on a Dell laptop with a flaming battery? Blogger SUCKS. I'm not even sure if what I'm writing now will even get published. And frankly, maybe that would be for the best.

---


Why would they even need to say that Pluto is not a planet? Hello?!? How obvious!

Next, they will feel the need to say that Donald Duck isn't a cherry-limeade from Sonic. Duh, he's a duck.



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Why can't they come up with a more creative name for an orange? Who even thought of naming a fruit after its color?

We never say "I love to drink 'purple' juice." Or, "hey, that 'yellow' is shaped like a penis." No, of course not.

New name for an orange: boobfruit. Most of them are about that size. (but hopefully not that color)

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Why do I continue blogging, when I can't come up with anything more creative than this shit?

Announcement

And the winner of the caption contest below, and recipient of the big, red, spicy, pickled weiner from the huge jar by the cash register of the Dew Drop Inn and Cantina just outside of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma is...

NUGGET MAVEN!

The winning entry: "Don't jerk and drive." Simple, funny, perfect.

Maven, you'll need to drive to Broken Arrow to claim your award, which I'm sure is no problem, considering it's quite the sizeable weiner.

$8.50

That's how much it cost to watch one of the cheesiest, most predictable movies I've ever seen. It was SO bad, it HAD to be intentional - if not, wow.

Snakes on a Plane.

Yeah, I succumbed to the hype.

Samuel L. Jackson is a master thespian, as far as B actors are concerned. During the course of the movie, I found myself laughing when nothing was supposed to be funny. People died, I guffawed. As snakes climbed down people's windpipes, or bit guys on the end of their peni, (is that plural for penis?) I could do little more than giggle. The gratuitous sex scene (mile high club, of course) included a snake biting a girl on the boob. (naturally) I kept expecting Jackson to go down into the cargo hold and discover a cage full of mongeese, (plural for mongooses?) which would lay waste to the reptilian marauders. No, instead...

(spoiler alert)

He tied everyone down to their seats, then shot out the plane windows to suck out the snakes.

Then, after both pilots died, (how predictable is that?) a passenger landed the plane based on his experience with a Sony Playstation.

I've had it with these MF-ing bad movies in our MF-ing theaters. I wonder what else I could have bought for $8.50.

Click here, it's a personalized message from Samuel L. Jackson to me. I feel so very special.

You can personalize and send one (via email or phone call) to whomever you want. Just go to www.snakesonaplane.com.

Fest your eyes on this

The packaging of artists and festivalizing of concert tours has simply gotten out of hand.

The originator and mack daddy of them all was, of course, Woodstock. I'm okay with that one, the Woodstock people were innovators. Plus, they came up with many new procedures for administering hallucinogenic drugs that are still bellwethers in the field of recreational pharmaceuticals.

But since then, we've seen a ridiculous littany of other "fests" that run the concept further into the ground than Bin Laden when he hears helicopters. Lollapalooza, Lilith Fair, Y'allapalooza (the country version) and a myriad of other "fests" make me feel like releasing moles onto the "festival-seating" lawns of every ampitheater I can find.

It's just an excuse to charge a goddamn fortune to see a concert. Pair up two or more artists and it's okay to charge $150 a ticket, $12 to park and NINE dollars for a beer because just LOOK at how many people are on that stage. Don't worry that you end up having time for only medleys of their big hits, and it takes two hours to change the stage for each act.

If we're going to continue this irritating trend of festivalizing concerts, let me suggest some artist combos that would make sense.

James Blunt/John Mayer/Art Garfunkel (for retro effect) in "Spineless-Wuss Fest."

Alanis Morissette/Sarah McLachlan/Jewel in "Bitter-Sad-Suspected-Lesbian Fest." (which is really just a ripoff of Lilith Fair)

Elton John/Boy George/George Michael/Lance Bass in "Obvious Fest."

Dixie Chicks/Barbra Streisand in "Please-Shut-The-Fuck-Up-and-Sing Fest."

Journey/Pure Prairie League/Firefall/Atlanta Rhythm Section in "Only-One-Original-Member-Left-In-The-Band-But-We-Still-Pretend-We're-Worth-Paying-To-See Fest."

When I start seeing a little realism in these shows, maybe I start going. Until then, I'll put my Lollapa-ipod on shuffle. It's cheaper.

Caption Contest

Winner gets one of those big, red, spicy, pickled weiners from the huge jar by the cash register of the Dew Drop Inn and Cantina just outside of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.



Let the games begin.

Gouge, George

I'm not entirely sure, but I think America is one of the few places in the world where you have to pay for things you don't use.

As I was talking recently about my cell phone situation, I realized that these companies are signing you up for 1 and 2 YEARS, and charging you a monthly rate even if you never use your phone. Then, if you desire to turn the phone off during that "contract" period, you are charged a hefty cancellation fee.

Same thing with tanning beds, gyms, etc. Their scam is to sign you up and charge your credit card every month, even if you haven't been in for weeks... or, in my case with the gym, months. Cancellation is possible, but you have to write a letter and mail it to the company. Then, probably about 30 percent of the time (according to friends who have done it) they "lose" the letter or claim to have never received it.

The problem is, we allow it. We sign up, we pay, and we don't complain. If we were smart, we'd draw the line and tell companies to shove it deep. As soon as my cell contracts are up, I think I will do pay-as-you-go. Likewise with my gym, I'd like to find a place that allows you to pay as you use it... even if, you know, you hardly ever use it. (Dr. Mike, you bastard, we need to get back to the gym. Stop making lame excuses like "my wife just had a baby.")

Are companies allowed to do this sort of thing in Europe? Asia? I'd like to know.
_____

Something does my heart good to see Boy George cleaning the streets of Manhattan. I'm not sure why I enjoyed this story - he seems to be an OK sort of person. I just guess it's human nature to find enjoyment in the misfortune of the famous. Especially when they have a british accent.*

Why do we get particular amusement out of seeing a famous person arrested? (Martha Stewart is a great example) I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that they are so often treated differently because of their fame or notoriety. I'll bet Letterman gets out of more traffic tickets than I ever dreamed of. I am SURE Paris Hilton never has to wait in line to get into a night club. I'm positive Rosie O'Donnell gets extra butter on her popcorn at the theater. (at least it appears she does)

So when any of these types have to pay some sort of price for something they've done, we revel in it. We celebrate it, if in no other way than to get a warm feeling seeing Boy George holding a plastic garbage bag.


*Why is it more satisfying when they have the british accent? Because they always sound just a bit condescending? Also, (and I don't mean this the way it will inevitably sound) does anyone else find it freaky to listen to a black person with a british accent? It just totally throws me off.

Unlikely phrase

"Someone Dave considers a friend is actually successful."

I tend to hang with people more like me - they muddle through, have no idea where tomorrow's meal is coming from, and generally love misery. I'm putting a stop to this trend posthaste and forthwith. And herein. Whatever.

Lightning Bug's Butt is a published author!

He has always been my favorite blogger, not to mention the subject of a horrible and unattractive jealous streak I don't often experience. But alas, I'm happy to hawk his new book on these meager pages, so that you too can experience the magic that IS "Alpha Johnson..." his pen name... which loosely translated, means "a dick."

To read a synopsis of his writing and order his book, click here. Don't get me wrong, I'm only helping myself, since the better my friends look, the better I look.

Weekend Poetry

Whispers

If you really listen,
You can hear
Whispers on the wind.

As a child,
I perceived it as
Little more than
The rustle of leaves
Or the quiet sigh of
A bird’s wing.

Now,
I hear.

Life speaks to us,
Its lessons sometimes
Bold and brash…
Others times,
Soft,
Quiet,
Gently hidden in the
Bustle of our lives
Like a vague,
Distant,
Haunting harmony.

You just
Have to listen.

Dave Morris, August 2006

Cell Hell*

The packages, phones and benefits of the major cell phone companies wax and wane more than Anna Nichole Smith's quest for dignity.

At this point in my life, I've been with all of the major cell companies at least once, some more. Every year or so, a company will upgrade their system, launch faster data services, better airtime packages, improve customer service, or merge with another company... briefly making it the best option for cell service. Then, the need to compete dictates changes at another company, and it's THEIR turn in the spotlight. These changes are as predictable as the phases of the moon and Floyd Landis' steroid excuses.

Right now, here is my situation regarding cellular:

Cingular - main cell phone, laptop data card, TREO PDA. (which sucks ASS, but I haven't cancelled the service yet)

Sprint - New PDA, daughter's cell phone.

Verizon - Built-in car phone. (which is simply a backup to the satellite phone that is also installed in the car) (yes, BMW frequently commits "overkill" with their connectivity efforts)

Bottom line... I have contracts with THREE different cell companies. Total monthly expenditure, $350. Once I cancel the extraneous PDA with Cingular, that figure will drop significantly.

As I was searching for a birthday present for my 17-year-old daughter, I first went to Cingular. They host my main cell number and I find their signal to be HIGHLY reliable. That was the extent of my positive experience... their phone selection sucked. Also, their "roll-over" plan is just advertising BS, you'll never really use the minutes and you LOSE them if you ever change your plan. Also, I've accumulated 9000 roll-over minutes, but they won't let me share them with anyone. Their customer service guy had no idea what he was doing, and had to call his supervisor four times. Screw you, Cingular. I left.

Then I went to Verizon. Customer service at the store REEKED, their selection of phones was better than Cingular, but still not good, and their signal has always given me fits. Those shortfalls reinforced the wisdom of a quick exit.

Third stop, Sprint. Nice set-up in the store, not a REAL long wait for service, and the selection of phones is pretty good. They have FREE incoming calls on some of their packages, you can choose your "off-peak" time, (7 or 9 pm) and Sprint-to-Sprint is unlimited, with a small upcharge. It definitely made the most sense for my daughter's needs, and although their signal is less reliable than either Verizon or Cingular, it still beats T-Mobile, US Cellular and the various little guys. I decided Sprint gets my business this time.

She loves her new (pink) phone. Since incoming calls are free, Dad will be keeping very close tabs on her whereabouts. But at dinner, she said something that is still ringing in my head. "Hey, the phone was only 40 bucks, you got off pretty easy on my birthday present."

I took a moment to reflect on that statement, waved away the smoke that had begun coming out of my ears, and collected my thoughts. (and did the math) "You mean one THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED dollars?"

Kids these days. They believe cell phone service is free. I felt this was a good time to outline the Rules Of The Phone. NO overages, she must get a job by October 8 (two months) and has to start paying her own cell bill within one year.

She gave me a look as if I had eaten a baby, then reluctantly agreed.


* I've had the same cell number for several years. I will likely never change it, thanks to number-porting... but the cell companies are hereby on notice: Be nice to me, or I will drop you like a... an... um... something, you know, that you drop.

When good cops go bad

There are few subjects upon which I can opine with such confidence, knowing there are few in this world who are more expert.

We all love police officers when they're writing a ticket to the jackass that just cut us off in traffic. But the feelings quickly change when the flashing lights are in our OWN rear view mirror.

I found an article on the net which outlines etiquette for a traffic stop. It supposedly provides guidelines which may help get you a warning instead of a ticket. Here are the article's main points, followed by my own thoughts on the subject.

1 - Pull over as soon as possible. As soon as you even think that you might be the one that the highway patrol car is after, pull over.

As soon as you've emptied the beer can into the floorboard completely, hidden your bong and managed to find the seatbelt, pull over. This may take a few blocks, but you can always say you thought he was after someone else, because as far as you can see, you weren't doing anything wrong.

2 - Always pull over on the right side of the roadway. On divided highways, signal and safely move over to the far right lane, and then to the shoulder.

Stop right there in the traffic lane. If you're going to get a ticket for going five over, screw it... the other motorists can suffer along with you. I see this happen all the time, and while I know it's not safe, there's a little part of me that snickers.

3 - Know where your paperwork is. Normally, when a police officer first pulls you over, he/she will ask for your license, registration, and insurance. If you're not well organized and keep the officer waiting while you dig through your possessions, the officer may be less likely to sympathize.

Take your sweet time. You're getting a ticket anyway. Might as well make sure that the fine you will pay equals the amount of time it took the nice officer to charge your ass with the offense. In fact, while you're digging around, make small talk about the community's Police Chief and what an asshole he is. This may be the quickest, easiest way to earn the officer's favor.

Oh, and when's the last time you ever showed your "registration?" They NEVER ask for that.

4 - Make the officer feel safe. Turn your dome light on at night. Always keep your hands in plain sight. Don't make any sudden movements. Roll your window down all the way. Stay in the car.

Get right out of the car when you're stopped. That way, technically there's no way he can prove you were even the driver. Besides, I'm sure he wants to know you aren't going to pull a firearm out of the glove box... and from outside the car, there's little chance of that happening. This will make the officer feel even safer.

5 - Let the cop talk first. Don't blurt out things that could incriminate you. Keep your calm, even if you're upset about being stopped. Don't volunteer information, like how fast you thought you were going. The officer may not be pulling you over for what you think he is.

Whatever! C'mon, you know why the officer is pulling you over. Blurt out "Wow, you must be really bored!" This will make the officer feel inadequate, and send a clear message that he's made a judgment error by pulling you over. It's a psychological ploy that will work in your favor, trust me.

Throw in a comment or two about donuts, then ask for his badge number. Do all of this in a thick irish accent. If none of this works, ask something like "Isn't there a funeral procession somewhere that you're supposed to be working?"

6 - Don't argue with the cop. Challenging the officer is a recipe for disaster, and likely means that you will be written up for the full offense and the officer will be less likely to opt for a compromise in court.

This is silly. It never hurts to have a lively debate. Most of our problems as a country, a society and a species have been solved in this manner.

Make sure the officer knows that you were just going with the flow of traffic, that the guy in front of you had just passed you so HE'S the one who should get a ticket... and that it's stupid to have such a low speed limit in this area anyway. How ELSE will the officer know he's made a mistake?

Also, if you're the opposite sex, this may be the time to play the "oral sex" card.

_____

If you follow the advice from the internet piece, sure - you might get out of a ticket or two... but you'll really look like a wuss. Trust me, my way is more fun.

I should point out that if the officer is a female, all bets are off... you will get a ticket.

Friday Quotables*

This morning's subtle, yet crystal clear reminder about life, courtesy of my Quickbooks program:

"You can't print blank checks."

Yeah, no shit. Thanks...
_____

Words to live by, from country singer Gary Allan:

"Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride."

Truer words? I can't remember any.
_____

Calvin Coolidge:

"If you see ten troubles coming down the road, you can be sure that

nine will run into the ditch before they reach you."

Oh, how I pray for those ditches.
_____

Symbolism, courtesy of the Missouri Department of Transportation:

"Construction next 20 miles."

Then I glance at the thermometer - 101 degrees. Ain't that always the way it is?
_____

Roman philosopher Lucius Annaeus Seneca:

“I persist on praising not the life I lead, but that which I

ought to lead. I follow it at a mighty distance, crawling.”

Here, here.


Have a nice day!

*These may help you through the weekend, or at least give you

something to ponder. Sheesh! The things I do for you!

The 90's called...

... they want their insults back.

I was surfing along on a message board today, and found that people are STILL using the tired cliché, "the _________ called, he/she/it wants his/her/its __________ back."

Oh don't get me wrong, I've used the shit out of that phrase... it was a good and fairly hurtful insult for a long time. For instance: "Goodwill called, and they want their couch back." (bad tie reference) Or, "Some clowns called and want their car back." (Ford Festiva reference) But the point is, I used it in the early 90's.

Am I all wrong here? Is it still a timely, valid, effective insult? Please feel free to opine, and also leave your favorite one - because if it's still usable, I'm going to get back on this horse for a while.

Or, feel free to share other outdated clichés you've heard lately.

By the way, is that a cell phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? (that is sooo early 40's)

Oh good, I'm just like Tupac

What city are you???

I've taken the ultimate test, (five whole questions) churned the numbers, (let the website churn the numbers) given it a lot of thought (no thought whatsoever) and come up with these results:

You Are New York

Cosmopolitan and sophisticated, you enjoy the newest in food, art, and culture. You also appreciate a good amount of grit - and very little shocks you. You're competitive, driven, and very likely to succeed. Famous people from New York: Sarah Michelle Gellar, Tupac Shakur, Woody Allen

What American City Are You?

PS - of ALL the famous people from New York, could they not have given better examples than Gellar, Tupac and Woody Allen???

For instance, Bea Arthur is from NY. So is Al Capone, Vin Deisel, Harvey Fierstein and Art Garfunkel! (okay, maybe their list was better) Oh, and Scarlett Johansson.

Go ahead and take the test - it requires 30 seconds. What, are you that busy?

In the dark

You guard your hopes
And you pocket your dreams
You'd trade it all
To avoid an unpleasant scene
Can you face the fire when you see me there
Can you feel the fire will you love me
In the dark...

Billy Squire's "In The Dark" was going through my head last night as I waited for the electricity to come back on. Most of the north side of O'Fallon had no electricity, after yet ANOTHER storm blew through and knocked out juice to 40,000 customers. This, just one day after they restored power from the last outage of over a half-million houses.

Of course I had my laptop with full batteries and a Cingular air card, so I didn't miss any internet time. I wonder what that says about me...

Anyway, power's back on now. Trees are still down all over and if you step outside, you can hear the sound of a hundred chainsaws drifting across the countryside.

Weekend in Morris-ville

Breakfast of champions:

A fajita omelette featuring lean steak, green and red peppers, onions and fresh grated mozarella. Topped with spicy habanero salsa, and served with a steaming cup of freshly ground french roast coffee.

Music playing at the moment: Sting, "My One and Only Love"

Weather: Sunny, no clouds in sight, temperature already 94 (current heat index 106) in St. Louis.

Today's agenda: One load of laundry, including folding and putting away. Balancing of all bank accounts in preparation for quarterly tax return Monday. Drive to my buddy Gary's parents for a family get-together in the back yard while watching the Cardinals play the dreaded, shitty Cubs. Maybe a trip to the bar for cigars afterward, before heading home for the evening.

Tonight: A martini (with bleu cheese-stuffed olives) on my deck, watching the neighbor fish the lake behind my house. Maybe some tilapia sizzling on the grill.

Sunday is an open slate - maybe a bike ride... or a mega-nap under the ceiling fan with Van Morrison in the CD player. Decisions, decisions.

Have a great weekend, wherever you are.

Pass me the pills, please

"We've been advised by our attorney that you should pay us $1,200, or we will be forced to contact our local news channels and provide them pictures."

This is an exerpt of a letter that a friend was going to send to the Hunts food company, because a foreign substance was found in a cup of pudding recently. I warned them that if they sent this letter, they would be guilty of attempted extortion. They reluctantly agreed not to mail it... they hadn't even received a lab report identifying the substance, so it was premature to demand anything.

This is the mindset of the public today... frivolous litigation, in an attempt to receive unearned income. McDonalds knows only too well with their infamous "hot coffee" lawsuit, that many in America are looking for their fortune, and are completely willing to steal to get it. Too-hot gravy can mean a "gravy train" in our society.

The government is complicit. It takes the FDA forever to approve new treatments, research projects, etc. because of fear that, if there are negative side-effects, there will be lawsuits.

Please understand, I realize how important it is that the medications we receive are safe. There should be a good amount of evidence that they will perform as expected.

But honestly, Europe, China and Japan are passing America in the field of medical research. If there is a breakthrough made with cancer treatment or cure, it's less and less likely everyday that it will happen here. In real life, the tortoise never really wins.

I'm tired of the government holding up the process. The FDA makes us wait for treatments that have long been approved in Europe. There are tremendous strides being made, in various fields of medicine, with drugs that are still considered "experimental..." but can we get them here? Usually, no.

Why? Like over-protective parents, the government coddles us, belts us in, ties us down, forces the helmet and pads on us (secured with copius amounts of red tape) until we're so "safe" that it's impossible to breathe.

To add insult to injury, this week George W. Bush decided that the FIRST veto of his presidency would be to strike down federal funding of... medical stem-cell research. There have been hundreds of bills introduced over the past five years calling for spending increases, more funding for war, more funding for faith-based services, more funding for prevention of terrorism... all FLYING past the president's desk.

Yet now, when it comes to funding one of the most promising medical research projects in history... a field of medicine that by most accounts, will be our best hope of finding cures for cancer, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, Multiple Sclerosis, and countless other diseases, the US government has decided again to bury its head and let the rest of the world pass us by. Seventy-five percent of Americans feel this bill should have passed. So this is our "representation?"

Even with the most extensive testing, some failures will occur, some risk will be present. (see: Celebrex) But the public needs to remember that with every advance, there WILL be risk. We need to see the big picture... and not pay so much attention to the pixels.

I have no desire to die by asphyxiation... to be smothered in "protective" red tape.

Folks

One morning, my daughter and I sat in a little obscure diner just off the highway, and had breakfast. I told her about an idea I had for a book, which would be to seek out these little off-the-beaten-path places, choose one interesting person, and interview them about their life. Where they've been, what they've done, who they've met, their highest point, lowest point... and write a two to three page vignette about them. Their "chapter" would include a picture of them sitting at the diner table.

I'm not saying every person would make it in the book, but people with stories are fascinating. There's nothing I'd rather do than sit with a fellow human-racer and a cup of java, and listen to what they have to say. Wisdom doesn't come from college, it comes from coffee. From listening. From living.

Another idea involves moving to the beach somewhere, getting a part-time job as a bartender at a nice resort, and spending most of my on-duty time talking with people who happen upon one of my barstools. I'm sure I would hear some interesting tales of adventure, intrigue... good girl stories, bad boy stories... it's amazing what people will share with their bartender. The book title? "Stories From Behind Bars."*

I've been fortunate, in that I'm a person with lots of stories. Many good, a few not-so-good... some uplifting, some depressing, but it's been a pretty good mix. The lowest lows make the highest highs appreciable. How boring it would be to have never been poor, sick, sad...

Anyway, as I sit here on my laptop in a little coffee house on Missouri Route K, I've decided that I will begin seeking the stories. Not the huge headlines or sensational exposé, but the real, meaningful ones. Those which truly define who we human racers really are.

You might have noticed the new header on my blog. Thoreau said it best when he said, "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."



*if I see this in Borders anytime soon, I'll know where it came from. This blog is copyrighted dammit. :)

Pray all you want, you're still going to die

While I'm not particularly afraid of many things, I am disturbed by scorpions, trains and sewing machines.*

NOT on that list, but one of the things that make my skin crawl, are praying manti. (is that plural for mantis?)

In the open-air courtyard at Norton's Cafe in Soulard, I noticed a praying mantis crawling along the railing. He stopped and cocked his head to look at me.

This freaked me right out.

First, I should explain my issue with insects - they don't bother me unless they exhibit non-insect tendencies. For instance, the mantis can turn his head. That is an animal characteristic! The scorpion looks like a lobster, and the little bastard stings with that "tail." ONLY ANIMALS have tails!

Jesus, I get the heebie jeebies just writing about it.

So back to Norton's. I flicked the praying mantis through the air really hard. Enough, I thought, that he would lose that swivelling little freakish head of his. No such luck, but I watched where it landed, walked over to check it out, and realized I was standing at the base... of a huge PRAYING MANTIS SCULPTURE.

It was an eerie moment, one of those times when you think: "Now I've done it, I've killed a mascot and the entire staff will soon arrive at my table, stab me to death and bury me in a shallow grave by the railroad tracks."

What kind of place exhaults the goddamn praying mantis??? They aren't even really praying, which is clearly sacrilege.

I'm not too sure I'll be going back to Norton's.


*sewing machines appear to be the only fear I've not explained here. I have this unrealistic feeling that the pedal will stick, my finger will get tangled in the fabric and be drawn into the workings of the machine, where the huge needle will drive itself through my finger and I will bleed to death because nobody is near. Yes, it is a real fear. No, I've never even used a sewing machine. Don't judge me.

Poetic justice

Life is short?
Not really.
Life is the longest thing
You’ll ever know.
Contentment is short.
Sunsets are short.
Sandboxes with colorful toys
Are short.
Relationships are short.
Beach walks with your dog,
The taste of lobster and butter,
A first kiss,
A last kiss,
A crackling campfire,
A rainy Sunday,
The first warm day of the year…
Those are short.

But life is long.

And no matter how long it is,
it’s better to be alone,
Than to be
Not quite enough.

Dave Morris, July 2006

Fading cognizance

I had a client tell me once that I took too much time off for vacation. He was sort of joking, but I could tell there was an underlying truth to his feelings. I told him how I had actually not taken that much time at all, that I was dedicated to being in the studio consistently for my clients, and that if he just watched for the next 6 months, he would see that I don't take much vacation at all.

I hadn't hung up the phone for ten seconds when I realized I had just paid for a trip to Mexico, and it was coming up in three weeks. After I had told my client how little vacation time I took, I had to write an email memo to all my clients, telling them I was taking a week off. Copulate a mallard!

Do I really take too much vacation time? No, probably not. But I told him I hardly ever take time off, then took a week. It was a coincidence, sure... but my client chose not to renew my contract when it came time.

Moral of the story? There is none, except that a person's perception is their reality... sometimes we inadvertently reinforce that perception... and timing sucks.
_____

What's with the whole "ice and fuel" thing? I've heard of several businesses called _____ Ice & Fuel, but they sell neither ice, nor fuel. One is a restaurant, and the other is a siding and window company. I just don't get it. It would be akin to renaming my blog "Dave's Dignity and Self Respect Page."

_____

When you're on a float trip down a shallow river with sharp rocks, it's never good if you lose your creek shoes. Ask me how I know.
_____

There are few lonelier feelings than when your MSN Messenger says none of your friends or family are online and you are listening to old Frankie Laine music on a Tuesday night in St. Louis. And that's why god made scotch.
_____

Dedicated to my representation, the William Morris Agency of New York.

And to my friend Dr. Mike. And my friend Gary. Oh, and Ron. And Blogaritaville, Nowhere Girl, Lightning Bug's Butt, Weary Hag, Steve Mays, everyone else linked on my side bar, and quite possibly, you.

Pitiful pussy

A few weeks ago, Kramer the cat got dirty. He was outside and got some tangles in his fur that he refused to allow to be removed because he's an old guy, set in his ways and not open to new ideas. (gee, who does that sound like?)

So I had him shaved.

Yes, it was the only solution, my groomer is an accomplished groomodontist with credentials out the ass. (accreditation is so important in a groomer)

So how he's the only shaved... um, you know... in the neighborhood. (go ahead, insert all your juvenile toilet humor here - "hey, a brazilian cat," "where's the landing strip," etc. I'll wait)

....
....
....

Finished?

Okay. Before:

Aaaaand... after:

Viola. No more tangles, the only hair left... is on his head and tail. He looks like a genetic science experiment gone horribly wrong.

He should be back to "normal" in a month or two. Until then, it will be puns-aplenty around here.

Sundry fleeting nonsensical ponderings, cleverly disguised as a blog entry

Went to check out "Click," starring Adam Sandler last night. It was okay, but the first two thirds of the movie were mostly comprised of horrible acting, completely improbable situations (as if having a remote control which can control the world around you is probable) and cheesy dialogue. The final thirty minutes were at times moving, sometimes a bit maudlin. It was "It's a Wonderful Life" all over again... and that wouldn't be so bad, except Adam Sandler is no Jimmy Stewart.

Two out of five stars.
_____

Freakin' national league. Will we ever win an All Star game again?
_____

I finally have a grip on my workload, after a few days off for the holiday last week. I should be able to breathe in a few hours, I have one last big burst of catching up to do. I have no stress compared to some, I am a lucky son-of-a-bitch.
_____

Are you organized? If so, can you teach me? Can it even BE taught?

After chatting with a friend who has similar challenges, I realized recently that I am a piler... not a filer. If it sounds like psychology mumbo jumbo, that's because it is. Isn't it great how shrinks have all these rhyming terms that help us understand ourselves? So very catchy... and I pay 150 an hour to hear them.

I used to be married to a filer - and in retrospect, that was probably one of the (few) things we had going for us. You should see my office. I MUST get things unpiled... and filed. If anyone would like to volunteer to help, I am so very, very open to that. I'll buy the pizza and beer. And xanax.

Otherwise, I've found that the trash can is a great organizer...
_____

Cut/pased from an expedia.com email I just received:

Coastal cities from only $54/night, act now! New York, San
Francisco, Atlanta, Seattle, Boston and other favorites are all on sale!

Look, guys. Paint it however you like, but unless you're calling Savannah a suburb of Atlanta, it isn't a "coastal city." And would you really pay 70 dollars a night for Atlanta (as the ad says) when you could have Frisco for 84 dollars a night?

Maybe Atlanta is your thing, I happen to like it too... but not this time of year. It's 130 heat index. SF is about 78 degrees and clear, for 14 bucks a day more.

And don't you love how just because I checked rates ONE time for a flight to Las Vegas, they email me every time there's a two-percent-off sale for that route? Thanks for the spam, assholes, I went to Vegas seven years ago. I don't need those figures now.

End travel rant.

Motorcycle Morons

The helmet law simply isn't working. When you have a helmet on... but practically nothing else... you're still gonna die.

Here's a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Genius.


If you look closely, you can see little Genius, Jr. wedged in between! Such a warm fuzzy family photo. Simultaneously, I was both deeply disturbed and laughing hysterically. It's hard to reconcile those two feelings, but I managed.

For some strange reason, it DID make me hungry for a sandwich.

Stream of consciousness while I'm working

My printer guzzles ink. I've replaced the cartridge about once a month for the past year, those goddamn things are pricey.

I just called my daughter, and she was still in bed. It's 11:15 am. God am I envious.

I have to host the afternoon show on 93.7 The Bull this afternoon. I have voice over work stacked a mile high right now and no time to prepare anything for the show. I guess it's better to be busy than bored.

I'm writing these between recording sessions, while my audio files are saving. I have about 20-30 seconds to write each thought, so none of them will be very long.

The Carolina Concert Superstation, 103.7 WSOC Family Reunion is back!!! I just thought you should know.

My coffee cup is empty. What the hell is that about? Where's my servant??? Oh, yeah. I forgot.

I am looking out across my well manicured (by some of the best illegal immigrants money can buy) back yard outside the studio right now, and I realize that I miss doing my own yard work. It's hard sweaty work, but it's a good kind of sweat, getting out there and mowing, trimming, edging, mulching, fertilizing, raking...

Who am I kidding? I'm not that crazy about yard work.

I got hit on at the grocery store yesterday. It was the first time it ever happened to me, although I've always heard it was a "meat market." (yeah, bad pun) I didn't care for her melons, so there's no chance she'll ever get to see my bratwurst. (that was quite possibly the most stupid thing I've ever written on this blog) (and I didn't even reference buns)

How I wanna go

As I was lying quietly on the beach last week, considering my life and what's next... I found myself considering, of all things, what's last.

A couple of years ago, upon the death of a dear friend, I wrote down my feelings on the subject. I won't commit much space to it, since I am not expecting a piano to fall on me or anything. But I figured it would be a good idea to post it up front in my blog, so anyone who might someday be charged with the task of burying me will know what to do. Courtney, Ron, Gary, Mike... are you listening?

Ever heard of those celebratory funerals... the kind some black folks (and the most fun-loving of white folks) have? The ones attended by friends, neighbors, family, and anyone looking for a good plate of casserole afterward... and where folks lean back and practically shout the songs? It's like a party - an utter, all-out celebration of the person's life - and the biggest of tears are usually balanced by a good belly laugh from way down deep. Anyone who feels like it can stand up and say how they feel... and stories of the deceased are retold one more time...



And you can almost feel the person's soul in the room.



THAT is the kind of funeral I want. Let the attendees decide what's next... an open schedule and open hearts. Play some loud classic rock, throw in a country song, some jazz and blues and maybe a little reggae... and dance.

At the end of the night, I want people to go away with a warm feeling - and I want them to know how much I cared for them. The first one to leave is a rotten egg.

No plan... just a party.

Kind of like my life.

I saw it

In person.

It was up there with the most fantastic things I've ever experienced, I now know why people flock to the "space coast," park the car and sit for hours watching the horizon.

I'm back in the saddle, playing catch up. I'm trying to figure out how to post the video that I took. I will write more tomorrow, after I've caught up a little. Hope you had a great 4th.

I'm...

Gone beachin'.


While I am relaxing by the water, I will get recharged, renewed, rewired and refocused. See you in a few days... and happy Fourth of July holiday to everyone.

Fetch

Sometimes you're so busy dealing with other people's balls, you can't pay attention to your own.


I hate when that happens.

Enemies of the Chiropractor

A good friend of mine is a chiropractor, so I should first say - Dr. Mike, you know I'm just kidding around.

Okay, now that THAT'S out of the way... I finally felt like writing something humorous tonight, and the noble field of chiropractic medicine came into my sites. Satire, people. Satire. I LOVE Chiropractors!

Top 10 enemies of the chiropractor:

10 - A hot bath
9 - A bag of frozen peas
8 - The fraud department at Blue Cross/Blue Shield
7 - The witch doctor
6 - The state attorney general
5 - Your friendly masseuse who offers the "happy ending" (no, wait - a good chiropractor will give you one too... and charge your insurance)
4 - Ben Gay
3 - The Craftmatic adjustable bed (also the single man's best friend)
2 - A beaded seatcover

And the number one enemy of the chiropractor:
1 - The common heating pad

Soon, on Dr. Mike's blog, I would expect to see the "top 10 enemies of the voice over guy." If he doesn't write one, I'll be disappointed.

Recessive jeans

Okay, look. Regarding my last post: I'm not running for political office, so stop asking. I don't have enough DWIs, drug offenses or draft-dodging experience... I could never win.

---

I made the mistake of wandering into Abercrombie & Fitch the other day to look for jeans for my daughter. A group of girls strolled out dressed a little like this:

First, the girls I went to school with looked nothing even close to this mature. Could it be that growth hormones we feed cattle and chickens, or MTV, are getting into the kids?

Anyway, it made me think about a post I wrote recently, so I'm re-posting it for shits 'n giggles:

It has become so bad, pop culture has developed a name for them, "prosti-tots." Influenced by Britney Spears and others who came into the spotlight as children, parents are giving in to their kids' demands to be allowed to dress and act like adults... even trampy ones. Consequently, we have successful stores like Hollister, Deb, etc., new lines of children's make-up, and an entire generation of underaged hoochie-mamas who are dressing like their older, street-walking counterparts.

First, let me tell you what I am NOT: a prudish old man who walked to school barefoot in the snow, worked as a blacksmith and laments the days of the outhouse.

What I AM: the father of a teenage daughter... which, when done correctly, is far harder than snow walking, blacksmithing or sub-zero pooping. On our shopping trip last weekend, I finally okayed a pair of boots with 2-3 inch heels. She has bugged me about them for a couple of years now - and since she's almost 17, I finally gave in. I did so with a bit of trepedation, a fear of what she will want next, and sadness that she's growing up. It's not like I make her wear bloomers, and fasten her top button... but it was a big step for me - and for her.

I know she felt my hesitation. More importantly, I think she appreciated it. She really is a good girl, and has been a pretty good sport about my conservative clothing requirements. She made it through her younger years without becoming a prosti-tot.

Now, I need to make sure she doesn't become an ad-ho-lescent.

PS - Let me say this. I realize this policy has implications with peer pressure and her ability to "fit in." She handles it well and we compromise frequently, so all parties are satisfied. I am thankful she hasn't gone "goth" on me yet, but at this point, if she chooses to, it's her choice. She's old enough to make those decisions.

Hey, you influence them while you can, then you have to let go and cross your fingers.

Getting all political on your ass, then you're free for the weekend

Kim got me all pissed off.

On her blog today, she brought something up that I've been too busy to even think about... and that must be pretty common, because I haven't heard enough outrage from fellow Americans.

Last week, congress voted itself another pay increase. They now make almost $170,000 a year... for about 100 to 120 days of work.

Same week - congress denies (yet again) an increase in the minimum wage... something that has been stuck at $5.15 per hour since 1997. Nineteen-ninety-seven. Almost a decade. And the denial is done in a most unseemly manner, by attaching an anti-abortion amendment that is referred to as a "poison pill," which is designed to derail the original bill. Senator Bill "always thinking of myself first" Frist (R-TN) was solely responsible for taking any chance of a minimum wage increase off the table for another year. Well, that's not exactly true, politicians hunt in packs.

Why is it even possible to connect or attach unrelated amendments? It's an obvious attempt to kill the original bill, rather than to actually "show your cards" on the issues and have a real vote. The tactic is also used to introduce pork legislation that would have no chance of passing otherwise. I'm not clear how this procedure became commonplace, but it needs to stop.

These recent congressional pay increases (eight of them in 10 years, totalling more than 25 percent) are just another example of how this country has gone so severely off course politically, that we can start looking back at some of the huge crashes of empires throughout history for a peek at our fate. Truly. The greed, corruption and... gasp, should I say... even religious influence that has infiltrated our political system will be it's undoing.

Did you notice how congress convened an emergency session for one right-to-die case,(Schiavo, and it was all about mobilizing the religious right) put front-and-center the issues of gay marriage and flag burning, (which Americans aren't even concerned with) but still finds ways to avoid doing the REAL work, such as cleaning up the environment, (which will cost corporations money) dealing with health care issues (which will cost corporations money) and other things they've been conveniently ignoring? (most of which would cost corporations money and God knows we can't piss off our lobbyist friends)

I'm not a liberal. I'm not a conservative. I'm an independent thinker and have differing opinions based on the ISSUES, not political affiliation. I understand the need to keep corporate America solvent, I really do. It's vital to keep money flowing freely, to protect businesses who drive the economy and make us competitive with the international marketplace. I understand all of that. But come on.

Republicans have morphed into a barely recognizable version of a party that once truly repesented a good percentage of Americans. Democrats have lost all clout, backbone and initiative, barely providing the balance that defines our political system. And all are controlled by corrupt outside influences that can best be described as a dark underbelly OF the dark underbelly that is the District of Columbia. There are no brakes on this train.

I'm not predicting doomsday, but it's time for Americans to wake up and start caring about what is going on under their noses. It doesn't take that much time to stay informed.

And stop it with voting for career politicians like Bill Frist and Ted Kennedy. You are aiding in the mass production and distribution of corruption.

My daughter, the biker

Courtney and Gary took a ride down the road on his Harley the other day, and she said it was better than any old trip to Six Flags. I love that, because Six Flags is 45 bucks a day, and the Harley uses about 45 cents in gas.


They grow up so fast. Hey Courtney, if you decide to ever date a biker, take Dad's advice - make sure he's a Harley guy. They aren't cheap, so the kid will obviously have a good job.

The mood I'm in

Music I'm listening to tonight:

Matchbox 20 - "Hang"

He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone.
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone.
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone.

And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday...
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang.

The Church - "Under the Milky Way"

And it's something quite peculiar
Something shimmering and white
Leads you here despite your destination
Under the Milky Way tonight.

David Gray - "Babylon"

If you want it, come and get it
Crying out loud.
The love that I was giving you was
Never in doubt.
Let go your heart, let go your head
And feel it now,
Babylon.

Elton John - "Levon"

Levon sells cartoon balloons in town
His family business thrives.
Jesus blows up balloons all day
Sits on the porch swing watching them fly.
And jesus, he wants to go to venus
Leaving levon far behind.
Take a balloon and go sailing
While levon, levon slowly dies.

---

I haven't had a speeding ticket in a while, but today that all changed.

The pissant city of Charlack, MO has one cop, and that bastard was sitting right there waiting when I passed, going 73 in a 60. He was a young guy, and was really suspicious of me for some reason. He asked if I had anything to hide, drugs, paraphenalia, etc. Then he asked if I'd like to tell him anything before he ran my license, such as were there any warrants for my arrest.

Come on dude, look at me! At least learn the fine art of profiling. I had a golf shirt and shorts on, and they weren't even gang colors. I was driving a BMW 745. Jebus!

Email, produce... and kids these days

I just want to grab Blogger and shake the daylights out of it. Another day goes by in which I cannot post anything reliably which involves pictures.

Isn't Blogger owned by Google? Doesn't that make it all the more strange that the problem hasn't been fixed? The idea of transferring all my old material to a new home doesn't appeal to me, I monitored the progress of Steve Mays when he did it. I'm not nearly the steady, reliable blogger he is, so issues like this tend to make me think that I'd rather just not blog, than to get upset about it.
---
If I haven't returned your email, it's because my inbox is getting that uncomfortably full feeling. About 3 times a year, I take a half day and clean it out. Email I should have answered long ago gets lost toward the bottom because I've failed to delete the junk as it comes in, and before you know it, my inbox is fatter than Anna Nichole Smith. Er, Kirstie Alley. Er... hey, what is it with famous people losing so much weight these days? It really limits my analogy opportunities.
---
I love the produce stand.

As a guy, I'm wired to dislike grocery shopping, but yesterday I completely skipped the produce department at the grocery store and stopped at a place called Dee's Produce, about a half-mile from my house. It's a little place with the usual fare, strawberries, melons, tomatoes, etc., but you also get the paper handle-bag and one of those other things... what is it again? Oh yeah, a smile.

You hardly ever save money going to a produce stand, but it makes you feel good. I guess it goes back to simplicity. Although it's an extra stop, there's something nice about squeezing tomatoes while chatting with the proprietor about the weather or baseball. You can't beat human contact, and the grocery store produce department, with the automatic waterers and plastic bags just doesn't do it for me.
---
I overheard this from a kid at Six Flags recently on a particularly brisk ride:

"Wow, this is like virtual reality on steroids!"

Yes, he was serious. I think kids need to get away from their computers a little more.

I can't tell you how disturbing it is...

...to open my sitemeter page and check search terms.

I've had people find my blog using some really shocking ones that, on occasion, I've felt were odd enough to share. This one may take the cake, and it conjures up images too strange to fathom. Who on earth needs to search for:

childhood picture with dang shit feces

!!!

I gotta think the IP address would lead back to some sort of mental hospital.

Other search terms in the last 24 hours include, but aren't limited to:

• tits & gravy
• Linda Lovelace pics
• peep through the window (sounds kinky, I'm sure they weren't looking for something innocent)
• penis stains

TITS & GRAVY? WTF, people?!?

________

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to all the Dads out there. You know who you are. Or maybe you don't.

Garth, the ultimate artiste

He's in retirement now, but when he was touring, recording and workin' it, he was the best example of doing "it" right.

I should say that I've known Garth Brooks since about 1990, when he was a relative unknown. We had met a few times and had some interesting discussions. In 1993, Garth came to play in St. Louis, and during the backstage event, he remembered not only my name, but also my wife's. He was gracious and humble, and spent a good chunk of time with us.

In 1996, he came to town and again remembered my name, asked about my wife, and spent about an hour just sitting around with me and a few other staff members from the radio station.

My, weren't we both young looking here?

Remind me to tell you the story about how in 1997, I single-handedly forced Capitol Records to release Garth's "Sevens" album about two weeks early. It's a true story, but I have to wait until the statute of limitations passes before I tell on myself.

Brain Bouillabaisse

Dog-lover disclaimer: What you are about to read is disturbing.

Only a few miles from my house, a story unraveled that could only be described as "knuckle dragger meets genetic accident."

A woman, (knuckle-dragger) upset from being sold a puppy that might not have been full-breed chihuahua, apparently went to the seller's (genetic accident) house, and when she opened the door, began beating the seller over the head.

With the (now-dead) puppy.

Story link

Is it really necessary to pummel someone's head with the Taco Bell mascot?

I suppose the victim should feel fortunate she doesn't breed the English Mastiff.*

______

Sign in an office that caught my eye recently:

There will be only one of you for all time. Fearlessly be yourself.

I like that.

______

I don't understand the violence connected with soccer. Hooligans, listen to me. Your "boys" wear knee socks. Calm the hell down.

______

I told you this was a bad idea.

New info coming out recently says that Katrina victims used those $2000 FEMA debit cards to pay attorneys, buy football season tickets, Hawaiian vacations, and get a SEX CHANGE operation.

People wonder why big government is a bad idea? Because government will screw up anything it touches, and your money pays to glue a schlong on a chick.

______

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, "WOW, what a ride!"
Anonymous


*The English Mastiff holds the record for world's largest dog, weighing in at 300 pounds.

Hey Olga...

I turned on the television tonight, and got a hearty, unexpected laugh. The news anchor was introducing the meteorologist, a black girl named...

... Olga Breese.

A weather person by the name of Breese. A black girl named Olga. I thought it was funny.



Most air personalities choose stage names, so we can carry on like drunkards and pillagers without being outed. Do you really think Wolfman Jack's name was Jack?

Prior to my arrival on the airwaves of St. Louis, my general manager chose my air name and sent it via press release to all the newspapers and television stations. The name he chose - McDonnell Douglas.  Named after an aviation company based here. He felt it would be a neat local tie-in.

Alas, it was not meant to be. He had to go fish the press releases out of the mail bin after discovering there was already a McDonnell Douglas on the air in St. Louis. Captain Mac Douglas, a traffic guy.

Life's just too funny to make shit up.

Things I accomplished this weekend

• Cleaned kitchen countertops. Realized that my cleaning lady will be here Monday. Spread ketchup and bananas on them again so cleaning lady could retain her healthy level of self-worth.
• Watched Lewis Black's "Red, White and Screwed" on HBO, realized his earlier years were definitely his funniest.
• Got a haircut. Made small talk with the cosmetologist about where she's from, where she went to school, whether she liked working for Hair Saloon... none of which I gave even the slightest shit about.
• Assembled iPod docking station, receiver/equalizer, speakers, attached satellite receiver, re-routed television signal, effectively providing an audio experience in my upstairs living room that only mildly rivals the one downstairs in my family room. Turned on the newly assembled system. Watched Skinemax with the sound turned all the way up. Gave the cops who arrived minutes later this insane story about the spirit of Ernest Borgnine, a wood chipper and a conspiracy involving The Jelly Beans' failed musical career. Chortled wildly and flung my own poo until they left.
• Had a dream in which I singlehandedly solved many of the inherent challenges a landlocked country such as Botswana experiences with exportation of mineral extraction products, as well as other goods and services. Woke up and forgot to write it down. Nuts!
• (here's one for my accountant, Beth) Opened months-old statements and reconciled my corporate and personal accounts. They all balanced to the penny.
• Got on my knees and thanked God they balanced, because if I'm a penny off, I tend to overreact, sometimes with self-destructive results.
• Cleared off TiVos, erasing shows I've already seen and deleting email messages from DirecTV encouraging me not to miss the latest WWE Smackdown. Damn, I missed it.
• Ravenously consumed nearly an entire box of Thin Mints, followed by a quart of 34-degree milk. Lapsed into a sugar/lactose coma. Woke up and it was 36 hours later.
• Lit a candle, instead of cursing the dark.
• Entertained funky Billy Chin and little Sammy Chung. They said, "here comes the big boss, lets get it on." We took a bow and made a stand, started swinging with the hand. The sudden motion made me skip, now we're into a brand new trip.

I can hardly wait until Monday.