"It goes on." - Robert Frost

Cardinal Nation lost one of it's best sons this past weekend, pitcher Josh Hancock. He was killed in a car crash just a little less than five years after the death of another Cardinals pitcher, Darryl Kile. Josh was 29, and an integral part of our team. He had no family here - fans, friends and teammates were his family.

Incredible grief for the team, the fans and the city of St. Louis.

Stupidity and age

They say it's my birthday. Cha cha cha... whooopeeeeeee!!!

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All I want is to clear my name.

I went to the driver's license bureau yesterday to renew, and got a nice surprise. The state of Pennsylvania is looking for me. That's what the lady told me, anyway. And I couldn't get my license renewed until I cleared things up with them.

"Things?" What things? I've never even BEEN to Pennsylvania. Naturally, the first thing I assumed was they had the wrong guy. Then, as I was sitting on hold with PA-DOT I began to get a little anxious. Have I paid all my bills? Has someone in PA sued me? Was it that hooker from Pittsburgh?

I reassured myself. I HAD paid all my bills, NOBODY is suing me, and that hooker... well, there was none. I just made that up for effect. (as far as you know)

Finally the guy picked up the phone. Was I the Dave Morris who lived in Philly whose license had been suspended?

"Gosh no! You got the wrong guy, I've never even been there. Always wanted to though. Nope, it isn't me. Although Pennsylvania is definitely a beautiful state. How's the weather out there right now?"

I found out those guys don't appreciate small talk, it makes you sound guilty.

In order to get my license renewed, I had to write a letter to PA indicating I am not the same Dave Morris... get it notarized and fax it to them, along with a copy of my birth certificate, by the end of the day.

What the f**k? Will every guy in the US named Dave Morris have to go through the same BS routine until they get their guy?? Can't they cross-reference a SS#, birthdate, SOMETHING? Isn't the system better than this?

Apparently not. So here's a note to Dave Morris of Philadelphia: you're a douche bag and you are giving us Morrises a bad name. Get your license bullshit taken care of. And for God sake, I hope YOUR middle name isn't also Earl.

PS - my buddy Gary is having trouble with his emissions. I know how that sounds. I mean the state emissions test. Isn't life in a beaurocracy grand??

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There is a new study out today that says "rich" doesn't necessarily equate to "intelligent."

No freakin' joke... I wonder how long they spent on this "study." I could have pointed out a pretty good sample group and saved them the time.

Submitted for your approval: Stupid Test

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I have less than one more day to enjoy being only 15 years older than Violet. Tomorrow, I go back to being 16 years her senior... (he pauses and stares out the window reflecting on his life... you know, just for effect)

For various reasons, sometimes I believe I am actually YOUNGER than her. I wonder if the "old soul" thing is real. Anyway, I will be spending my birthday working today... there's NO rest for the wicked! I'll check in sometime over the weekend.

Meanwhile, here's a picture of me at age 42, with Violet. I hope I look this damn good at 43! haha!!

I haven't posted in a while...

it's just been too busy. I'll get back to you soon with pictures of bull balls. Yes, that's what I said. You'll just have to check back tomorrow.

Still looking for The Landlord video with Will Ferrell?

Go here - it's at www.funnyordie.com.

Davey needs a new pair of shoes

Vi and I went shoe shopping tonight and maybe... I went a little overboard.

Most guys have four or maybe five pairs of shoes. I am sort of like a girl - I have about ten. Three pairs of various brown shoes, three pairs of black, two pairs of tennis shoes, two flip-flops, a couple of pairs of cowboy boots... okay, maybe I miscounted. Don't judge me.

First, I bought a pair of water shoes for the float trip this year. Last year I survived half the float trip with flip-flops, and then lost them in a rapid. And, by rapid, I mean drunken stupor. I had to finish the float with no shoes and that hurts like a whore. This year, I'll be prepared.

Next, I bought a pair of "house-shoes." They are intended to be worn with black socks and shorts, and they look especially good when you have holes in the socks. Honestly, these shoes can be worn for any occasion, or when kicking around the yard. Made by Adidas.

Then, the pièce de résistance: a new pair of K-Swiss casual running shoes. White, with white rubber bottoms and white trim. Basically, they are white. They are also really comfortable with that squishy shit in the insole. I haven't had shoes this sweet since last time I had shoes this sweet! Never heard of K-Swiss before tonight, but hey... I'm accustomed to being a trend setting trail blazer.

We're home now, watching South Park and wearing our shoes. A nice, soleful evening in Morrisville.

Awwwww!

Bye now.

We had fun with his name though... the latest incarnation was San-gina.

Sadness, shock

For the students, faculty and families of the victims at Virginia Tech.









Link

Monday night

Violet and I went for a nice walk in the park this evening, (and that was no walk in the park!) then cooked up some shish-kabobs on the grill. Shrimp, scallops, peppers, onions, mushrooms, pineapple and squash, along with a baked potato and glass of wine.


Now we're finishing the wine in front of the television watching some baseball. It feels like summer!

I am wearing socks because my toenail paint is chipping badly.

Yesterday we did some major tailgating outside Busch stadium prior to the Cardinals/Brewers game. Burgers and KOSHER weiners on the grill, along with beer and/or soda. Okay, really only beer... and don't ask me why Dr. Mike and Paula brought kosher weiners - none of us are even Hindu.

Monday morning

Argh, tax day. Well, the day BEFORE tax day, same thing. I am now hurring around to get some numbers to my accountant, plus I have a fairly decent workload today.

Emily and I went to the Cardinals game yesterday with friends Dr. Mike and Paula. We got there early and did some tailgating with a small BBQ grill and a cooler of beer. Afterward, we went to Mike Shannon's restaurant for steaks and to cool down before driving home. It was a great day, and the Cardinals won 10-2.

More tomorrow, today's too crazy! Have a nice April 16.

Not to become a political opinion blog because that's not what I'm about...

But regarding the Don Imus racial mess:

This is a bigger problem than we can blame on a washed up old guy in New York. The man said the wrong thing, made a fool of himself and dishonored his profession. He has apologized and is paying the price... and I don't think anyone is questioning those facts.

But if this Imus discussion does nothing more than shed light on the hypocritical nature of the industry of racism, he's done alright by me.

In racism today, the black community is its own worst enemy. They have built an industry on demeaning and degrading women and themselves... then mock outrage when others pile on. I'm glad to finally see members of the black community turn their high-powered microscopes on themselves and realize their own complicity in perpetuating the stereotype. If you ever want people to stop thinking you're lawless, female-demeaning thugs, you have to stop SAYING you are.

Fair is fair. When I see hip-hop artists apologize for the harm they’ve done… when I see companies like GM boycott the hip-hop industry as quickly as they boycotted Imus, I’ll believe that we’ve made progress. Until then, I put the words “racism” and “hypocrisy” on equal footing.

Imus was wrong. He’s an embarrassment to his profession. So are the “artists” who do daily damage to the black community in the same manner cancer kills its victims – from the inside out.

Now about Haley Scarnato being voted off Idol... eh, never mind.

Spiritual mathematics*

As I gather my forms and get ready to file taxes, a question crossed my mind. Why are churches still given a free pass from the IRS???

I don't intend to come off as anti-religious, I am absolutely not, but considering the amount of tax I pay every year, it totally chaps my ASS that churches and organizations like Jerry Falwell's are "blessed" by the U.S. government with paying ZERO taxes.

In a recent sermon about managing money, Jerry Falwell gives this advice to congregation members who are financially struggling and deep in debt. (if the link doesn't work, try clicking 'refresh')

Let me tell you something - I'm not a hater. There are VERY few people toward whom I harbor ill will... but I hate that profiteering c**ksucker. To coin a little religious terminology, any shepherd who puts his flock in jeopardy to line his own pockets... is a no-good sonofabitch. (the "no-good sonofabitch" part is not religious terminology)

Lots of people are struggling to get by these days, but I suppose it's more important to buy the preacher another new car than it is to take care of your own family. Of course when your financial situation becomes so dire you're depending on the government to help pay your bills, it becomes particularly stupid that we're giving these assholes tax free status.

Remember, when you're down and out, the first bootstrap to reach for is Jerry's.

That rotten bastard.


*When I first started to write this, I attempted to make it a humor piece. I could find nothing funny about it, so I went with "pissed off."

A Violet Birthday

Emily isn't a fan of cake icing, so I'll help her out and lick it off today.

Happy Birthday Em!!!!!!!!!

Jerky Boy

Several months ago, I made a deal with the devil about my beef jerky habit. Violet was a casual smoker (mostly when she drank) and I was a fairly hard-core consumer of the dried meat.

One night after a stop at the convenience store, I opened a large pouch of "cowboy candy" in the car and Vi nearly vomited. It turned out she couldn't stand the smell of it.

Personally, I've never met anyone who found jerky THAT abhorrent. Never have I seen the smell alone induce gag reflex. (although the smell of Mike's belches have been known to make his brother-in-law puke) Beef jerky is a tame substance. It's earthy. Cowboys eat it. In its other form, Slim Jim, it's one of the major food groups in college.

But for some reason it makes Violet sick... so we made a deal. I would stop eating jerky if she quit smoking.

Most would say that's a lopsided deal - jerky doesn't cause cancer, yellow nails or birth defects. Correct, all of it. But it was worth it because only my separation from jerky would convince her to stop killing herself. So I went on the beef jerky wagon.

Until yesterday.

First I will tell you she WASN'T in the car - I was alone on a long drive between Columbia and St. Louis and felt a little tired so I stopped at the BP.

There they were... between the Hostess rack and the Chester Fried Chicken display. Pouch after pouch of pungent dried flesh. Beckoning.

Let me tell you, at $6.99 per 4-ounce package, that shit is pricey... most addictive substances are. I can just see a jerky tax coming soon. But price was no object, so after a look over my shoulder and a guilty blush, I purchased a pouch of premium cut natural style hickory-flavored beef and a Sprite Zero to wash it down.

When I got back in the car, it was like I hadn't eaten in days. I broke a sweat during the strenuous mastication... I chewed as fast as my jaw would allow. The aroma filled the car. My mind drifted back to a time when I could do this freely... to a time in my distant past when jerky wasn't prohibited. I swooned. For a few brief moments, as waves of saliva began breaking down the hickory meat and sending it on its way through my system, I resented those who made me quit. I found dozens of justifications for what I was doing. Hunger, boredom, sleepiness. Lack of sodium.

Then, quietly at first but slowly more pronounced and invasive, names of heart attack victims started running through my head. Thoughts of hypertension and gout began raining down upon me. Also slowly building, a rancid mixture of salt, bile and beast threatened to burst forth from my esophagus... and I realized I had done it. I had fallen back into the self-abuse that IS jerky consumption.

Afterward when the smell was gone and I was alone with my self-loathing, I regretted my actions. I saw the error of my ways. It's like any other addiction... you simply lose control. One pouch leads to another. Then another and another until your jaw aches with temporomandibular joint disorder and your bank account is empty. Finally, when you can't pay your rent, your friends have left and it's just you... alone with a million little silica gel packs... you realize. Oh yes. You realize.

I believe I've caught it before it got out of hand. I'm going to a JA meeting on Wednesday night. The friends of Jack Link have my back. The battle will be hard, but I will do my best.

I'll keep you updated. Wish me luck.

Easter Ponderance

Am I the only one to ponder the synergistic opportunities that exist between the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy? This could be one of the biggest mergers in history.

Just think, the Bunny could totally dominate the holiday world by providing Easter eggs not only on Easter, but any time you lose a tooth. He'd be a year-round character!

Every time a tooth is lost, (except in bar fights and accidents - those are not to be rewarded) the tooth fairy comes and picks it up... and leaves an Easter egg under the pillow on behalf of his long-eared friend. He then keeps the tooth until the first Sunday in April, (or whenever the Pope or God decides it should be that year) and delivers it to the parents of the kid. That way, for kids Easter happens at random times throughout their tooth-bearing years, and parents get a nice "toothter basket" once a year. The Rabbit saves gas, the Fairy gets more notoriety.

The only problem is selling them both on the concept... they are both rather egotistical and enjoy thier current exclusivity.

Now, how can we merge Santa and the Great Pumpkin? I have an idea... but I'll have to save it for another post. Right now I am late for a peep-eating contest. I think I have a good chance of winning - I've been training for months with shit-flavored packing peanuts.

Excuse me, but I think you've got my chair...

Over at the Castle of Nannbugg, the subject of office chairs came up today. I'm not sure why, but it fascinated me.

The place your butt spends most of its time needs to be comfortable... and friendly. (for some, it needs to be gas resistant as well) For most people, bed is second only to your office chair for amount of time spent hosting your ass. Some people use their office chairs for recreational sexual activities as well. (NOT by me, of course. *wink* *nudge*)

Anyway, I thought I'd post a picture of where I sit all day. It's in an office in the downstairs part of my house (I work from home) and it's very comfortable. It's a leather chair from Sam's Club, it's height-adjustable and it leans back... sometimes even when I don't want it to.

If you find the subject of office chairs as fascinating as I do, feel free to post a picture of your office environs/chair on your blog. Leave a link to it in the comments section, along with a job description if you feel like sharing that much info.

BS, AI, ME & ED

As Violet and I prepare for a trip to Mexico, we're going through the process of getting our passports.

The last time I went south of the border, I didn't need no stinking passports... only my birth certificate and photo ID. Now, thanks to the new rules designed to make life less libert-eri-ous, (new word, just go with it) there are even more hoops to jump through. Isn't it enough that I have to remove my shoes in the airport???

Plus... I can't legally bring home Cuban cigars. That's not to say I don't bring them home, mind you. Just not with the blessing of my Uncle.

Passports cost around 90 dollars each... plus 60 more if you want it expedited! It's just another tax, disguised as "Homeland Security."

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Tonight is performance night on American Idol.

I wonder what the average age of the Idol viewers is... considering Mowgli (Sanjaya) advanced for yet another week, I guess it's, like, like, like um, like, 10.

At one time, Idol was a really cool show that found America's most talented singers and gave them exposure they couldn't get on their own. Many non-winners have even signed their own record deals and sold shit-loads (shits-load?) of CDs.

This year, the talent pool is a little drier... and the single-digit-aged viewers have taken over the voting. Countless numbers of friends (okay, 3, but still...) have stopped watching. If my house weren't the designated AI viewing location for our group of friends, I would be watching Discovery HD instead. (that Planet Earth series is heli-cool) (that term is sooo 2002)

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Another political moment here. First let me say I'm hard to pin down. If I must have a label, it's independent.

Oil prices are falling - they are now below 65 dollars a barrel, (I can't believe I just said that) yet our "leaders" continue to drag their feet on finding alternative energy solutions.

Hey, rich, complacent assholes in Washington, D. C.! (aka congress) Get off your asses and do something productive! Let's get nuclear and solar and lose our dependence on the backward, camel-screwing assholes in the middle east.

Sons of bitches.

Somewhat related: When the democrats drafted legislation calling for the beginning of a troop withdrawl in Iraq, I was elated. There is nothing left to accomplish over there, those MFs need to be allowed to figure it out on their own. No freedom is free...

But the democrats screwed up. (shocking!) They decided that simple legislation wasn't good enough, so they added 24 BILLION in pork-barrel spending that wasn't even related to the war.

Pork-barrelling is a common practice designed to entice legislators who wouldn't ordinarily support a bill to jump on board. It's done all the time in D.C., which is why it smells like bullshit.

Quick example of extra spending tied to the Iraq funding bill: $5 million for payments to "aquaculture operations and other persons in the U.S. engaged in the business of breeding, rearing, or transporting live fish" (such as shellfish, oysters and clams) to cover economic losses incurred as a result of an emergency order issued by the Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service on Oct. 24, 2006.

That's some grade-A crap.

Democrats aren't the only ones who do it, but never was there a more important time to send a clear message to the President that America is ready to call Iraq a victory (the cluster-fuck it was) and bring our people home.

And they blew it. The legislation they drafted has VETO written all over it.

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I think erectile dysfunction is similar to Alzheimer's. It's more difficult on the spouse than you.

Come on... by the time men experience it, sex is firmly behind golf and sleep on the priority list. Usually women are just entering their prime sexually.

I've experimented with the little blue pill, (what guy hasn't??) but I don't need it yet. Besides, I'm a "spur of the moment" guy. For me it would be hard to wait 30 minutes for it to kick in. What if a buddy calls with an invitation to golf... or I fall asleep?

Monday Mojo

I admire people who can do things for themselves.


My Grandfather gave me some good working knowledge of things like plumbing, carpentry, wood-working, electricity, roofing and mechanics. The thing he couldn't give me was the long-term confidence to tackle those things today.

I can do simple plumbing, wire switches and outlets, change oil, replace auto parts like alternators, plugs/wires, battery, even car windows (right, Dr. Mike?) but today I lack the tools to do many of those things, and I've lost some Mojo.

There is no spot for it on the periodic table of elements, but Mojo is real. For guys (also some women and of course Austin Powers) Mojo gives us the confidence to have great sex, lay some pipe (I'm talking literally here) and roof a house.

For me, most of my pending projects are well within my ability. I just have to find the Mojo to start them. It's hardly ever a lack of energy...

Or take the easy way out and hire them done.

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When we were on the road to Florida, I noticed a lot of "adult cafes" along the interstate that promised good food and naked women. I've never heard of a strip club that combined food and nudity - is this a new thing?

If not, there are NONE in Missouri. I might have to jump on this bandwagon and open a chain of "breastaurants" around here.

I smell opportunity (one dollar bill at a time) and chicken fried steak.

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We're headed to the post office this afternoon to get our passports, which we'll need in June to travel to Mexico.

If you plan on traveling anywhere outside the US, you'll need one too... and they are a PAIN in the ASS to get, especially if you're a woman who has been divorced. You have to show documentation for each marriage, each divorce, your birth certificate, photo ID and proof of residency. For guys it's only birth certificate, photo ID and proof of residency.

Thanks terrorists. You sons of bitches.

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I began the process of cleaning out my garage yesterday and it's unbelievable what guys save. For instance, I've never thrown away a screw. Sometimes after assembly of furniture, electronics or whatever, there are extra parts. I've never thrown any of them away... in case I need them someday. I have about 20 small, partial bottles of white glue, 12,000 single screws, 32 dowel pins and hundreds of washers.

I've NEVER needed any of it. And yet I keep them... just in case.

Well, screw that! (pardon the pun) I'm cleaning out all the BS. It's a work in progress, but soon my garage will be the most organized and clean part of the house. If only I had taken a "before" picture for comparison.

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I received confirmation of my medical condition last week. After running an exhaustive panel of blood tests, my doctor confirms what I feared.

It's the big MSD.

MSD is Medical Student's Disease. Apparently, when studying symptoms of ailments, medical students develop a tendency to believe they are experiencing many of them. I'm no med student, but I AM fascinated with medicine and consume health information ravenously. Apparently, that is a problem. Everything I read about, I imagine I have.

My doctor has prescribed avoiding websites such as WebMD, the New England Journal of Medicine and others.

Damn. That means it's back to porn.

Betsy II

Not much time to write this weekend, there are a lot of things going on. We've managed to keep busy every minute of both days... now we're headed over to Mikey's for the opening game of the Cardinals' regular season.

But I did manage to replace Betsy yesterday. After a couple of years lusting after the Chrysler 300, I broke down (pardon the car pun) and got one.
The Chrysler 300 SRT8. 425 hp, 20" wheels, 14 speakers including subwoofer. This car eats pavement for breakfast. It's a really great car and I'm happy. Again, it's a guy thing...

More stuff on Monday. Right now I have burgers/brats to eat and ball to watch. Have a great Sunday!

Farewell, sweet Betsy*

I'm in a sort of melancholy mood today because it's "turn-my-leased-vehicle-back-in" day. Later, I will part with my all-time favorite car. That's a big deal for a guy.

Cars are far more important to guys than girls. For women it's just a means of transportation. But men enter into a long-lasting relationship with their car. They take extra pride in keeping them clean, they nurse them back to health when they're sick... they buy nice things for them, like brush guards, chrome wheels and subwoofers. We do the same thing with riding mowers, only to a lesser degree. It's really kind of sweet.

So, today is kind of like a break-up. We both knew it was coming, but that doesn't make it easier. We'll hug one last time at the dealership, I'll give the bumper one last "damn, you're sexy" smack... and walk away. It's for the best... right? We're just too different.

And this time, I won't just jump into another relationship right away. No, this time I'm going to wait a while. I need my space. I need time to think.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world... she had to walk into mine."

*325 hp, 330 lb-ft of torque, 4.4-L, 32-valve, DOHC V8... 0-60 in 4.6 seconds... sniff sniff...

Things I learned on vacation...

1 - Four people aged 17 to 55 in the same vehicle have as much chance of sharing the same musical taste as Heather Mills has of winning an ass-kicking contest.
2 - You cannot take a Motorola Razr swimming with you.
3 - Cingular sells a good, cheap replacement phone that I am now using until the Apple iPhone comes out.
4 - My girlfriend is a statuesque, blonde, beautiful woman who looks amazing in a swim suit. (already knew this, but lying by the pool and on the beach was a fun reminder)
5 - All of the Melting Pot's restaurants smell the same.
5b - Large amounts of melted cheese and good colon function do NOT go hand in hand.
6 - The 61 dollar entry fee and 10 dollar parking at Busch Gardens-Tampa is a high price to pay for what ultimately is an expensive induction of vomiting.
7 - The Florida oranges they sell at grocery stores here in St. Louis are fresher and prettier than the ones they sell at those roadside stands in Florida... and much cheaper. WTF?
8 - Dr. Mike and Paula are great dog sitters.
9 - Driving 30 hours for vacation is a crazy concept when Southwest has freakin' 90-minute flights for $199 round trip.
10 - Even people in Florida hate American Idol contestant Sanjaya Malakar and can't wait for him to lose.

Vacation is great, but it's so damn nice to be back in my own bed. This week is a bitch at work... you know how it is. You spend an entire week after vacation playing catch-up.

Plus my tan's almost gone already.