Dadaisms

I Thought You Were Supposed To Be Polite?

2010-02-24T20:12:00.000-07:00

Americans typically, or maybe stereotypically, make complete fools of themselves when traveling abroad. We're loud, we wear US flags for apparel, we wear cowboy hats, we drive giant wheeled tanks and call them SUVs, and we like to wage war on countries that look at us the wrong way. For the record, I am loud and wear a cowboy hat only when riding mechanical bulls in Tijuana. But this is about representing one's country, and representing it admirably. This is for you, Canadian dad.

I took Audrey to school today, and as usual, the parking lot was a mess of minivans jockeying for dominant position like really crappy Tron lightcycles. I coasted the family boat into an open berth and unloaded my precious cargo. On the way into the school, I noticed some clown had parked in the handicapped spot. No handicapped plates, no handicapped mirror tag. A-hole.

Drop off Audrey, spot humiliated Canadian dad, decide not to mention how his country is stinking it up at their own Games. Walk out to parking lot behind Cana-dad. Wait...oh no you didn't, Cana-dad. You parked in the handicapped spot? You move out of America's attic and think you have some sort of diplomatic immunity that allows you act, and park, like an American?

Let me put it to you in a language you may understand. Don't be a douche. That's French, right?

Oh. Canada?

2010-02-22T21:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not a sportswriter. I'm not even a sports fan. At best, I'm passable at conducting a two-way sports-centric conversation where my responses are expected to be more erudite than "really?" and "wow." But every two years I take time off from the other great competition, American Idol, to watch the Olympics. And like a great Adam Lambert performance, last night's hockey throwdown between USA and Canada didn't disappoint. The poor Canucks, inventors and curators of the rink, conquered on their home ice by their imperialistic pigdog neighbors to the south. How many Molsons were spoiled last night with the bitter tears of their shame?

Fast forward twelve hours. I'm dropping off Audrey at school this morning, and in my haste to get her backback and coat hung up, I nearly smack my face into the chest of a behemoth of a man. As I slowly backed away, I realize the gargantu-dad is wearing an unzipped CANADA jacket over a shirt embroidered with what had to be the world's largest wearable maple leaf. I couldn't believe it. A real live Canadian and with what had to be a hangover from his previous national we-sucked-at-hockey night. At this point, I made a quick calculation. We're in Phoenix, so when I am going to have another chance to give the business to a subject of Her Majesty? We are also standing in the safety of a preschool classroom. Chances are if he was going to kick my ass (and then possibly eat me), he would not attempt it in front of children. In fact, I was counting on this. I smiled and snorted, "Sorry about that game last night." As he stared down at me in what appeared to be disbelief, I told my daughter I loved her, then he replied, as only a Canadian can, "Yah." Immediately I knew that this could not end well. In an attempt to befriend the executioner, I asked, as if it were even necessary, "Are you from Canada?" Again, and even longer and more Canadian-esque, "Yaaaaah." Possibly sensing that I was about to become a snack for sasquatch-dad, the teacher grabbed me and explained that my Girl Scout cookies were here and I needed to pay for them. Thank God for thin mints. And when I turned around, the giant elusive creature of the northern woods was gone. Nary a footprint or photograph do I have for proof.

Pardon The Interruption

2010-02-14T20:44:00.000-07:00

For the past five days I have been a passable solo dad and a fairly poor pediatric nursing assistant. Max and Audrey have been overtaken with one or more of the following: H1N1, regular ol' flu, pneumonia, un-named virus, random bacterial infection, or fifth disease. Or not. But they are both sad little lumps of exhaustion.

Our house feels like Andersonville. Endless crying, pain, sickness, and body fluids. Sometimes you don't know it is going to be a terrible day when you wake up. It just kind of turns out that way.

Oh yeah, Happy Valentine's Arizona Statehood Day.

Parking Wars

2010-02-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

This is not a rant on women drivers, or mommy drivers, or Phoenix drivers. Really it's not a rant on drivers. This is a rant on parkers. Occasionally I drop Audrey off at her preschool before heading to work. Her school shares a fairly tight parking lot with, among all things for terrible morning traffic, a Starbucks. Her school also attracts families from some rather wealthy communities in north Phoenix and Scottsdale. There are plenty of Lexuses (Lexi?), Mercedes SUVs, and Range Rovers to accompany the fleet of minivans and other I-don't-need-a-look-at-me-car-I-just-need-something-to-get-the-kids-around vehicles.

Can you smell the aroma of parking snafu mixing with the steamy fragrance of a freshly brewed Frappuccino?

Mommies, or to be fair anybody dropping off the tykes, are in a hurry to dump off and dash off to a few precious hours of child-free freedom. The kind of freedom that isn't free. It's about $5.50 an hour. So the mommies, or again in fairness the "persons," dropping off the children, don't bother to take up merely one parking spot. Said persons park the kidmobile squarely centered on the white parking stall dividing line, as if they were lining up a 747 for takeoff on the runway at JFK.

Three persons mommies, three kids, six parking spots. And as if the vehicles weren't already drawing enough attention, they all happened to be high end Euro-rides. "Look at me. My ego and my car cannot possibly fit into just one parking spot. Please do not park your sub-$70k vehicle within ten feet or I could be at risk of catching your middle-class-ness." Oh, the humanity.

Rhythm Is Gonna Get You..A Chance To Clean Up

2010-02-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

Great disappointments in my life thus far:
1. Have not summited Mount Everest. Yet.
2. Cannot properly throw a regulation sized football.
3. Have not learned Spanish. No habla, amigo. Apenado. The preceding message was brought to you by Google translate.

I don't know what Mana is singing about, but their mesmerizing musica has a good beat and I can dance to it. Actually I can't dance to it. I'm a terrible dancer. I'm lucky to be able to tap my fingers rhythmically without looking like I was tonguing the terminals of a car battery.

But I like to nod my head and make up sounds in an attempt to accompany Mana as I drive through the barrio on my way to work. Sort of like talking to Max. I don't know what he is saying, and he doesn't know what I am saying. But we're both having a pretty good time bouncing around and making silly sounds. Until one of us throws up green beans.

Jonesing For Blow Pops

2010-01-31T20:05:00.000-07:00

The key to a successful outing with children is transforming your current location into a fantastic retail playground.

The grocery store becomes a formula one racetrack around obstacles of salad dressing and spaghetti sauce. The attorney's office is a great place for fort-building, what with all the conference tables and filing cabinets. Target is a high-fructose hideaway with the ubiquitous kid-branded snacks and toys, all conveniently placed at a shelf height of eighteen inches. When you're done, let your kid coast down from the high in the concrete logo.

Being Pretty Much All That I Can Be

2010-01-29T19:18:00.000-07:00

Today I dressed up like a tree (or maybe a bowl of creamed spinach) to spread some propoganda to my daughter's preschool class. It was "community helper" week at school, and I was invited to talk to the kids about how I help the community. I'm not exactly Tony Robbins, but I don't normally have a fear of public speaking either. Talking to a class of three-year-olds proved to be the exception. My extensive Toastmaster training did not cover the nuances of engaging an audience that still may, on occasion, pee on the floor for no particular reason. Thirty seconds into showing them a picture of a helicopter, they wanted to know if I brought them toys. Apparently my opening act was Mr. Community Helper himself, a mall Santa.

One of the more assertive boys helped himself to inspecting the contents of my flight bag, which was sitting enticingly close to him. There's nothing particularly exciting, dangerous, or embarrassing in the camouflage manpurse/European carry-all. I do keep a few Tums chewable tablets in a plain prescription bottle for those flights immediately following a giant chorizo burrito lunch. The kid found the bottle, held it up for the class and asked, "Can I bring this home to my mommy? She has lots of medicine like this." Maybe she eats a lot of chorizo burritos. Maybe she's crazy, or pregnant. Whatever she is taking, her son says she has a sizable stash.

Most of the kids had an idea about what a pilot was. "They go up where God is." Others struggled with the pronunciation of the job. "Pirates fly jets." "My grandpa is a pine nut." That's ok, buddy. My grandpa thought he was a pine nut too.

At the end of the day, the showing and telling at my daughter's class wasn't for the kids, or the teachers, or even my daughter. I could pretend it was for my daughter, but she wouldn't know or care if I elected not to visit her class. It was for me. Selfishly I wanted my daughter and her class to see her dad doing daddy things. And selfishly I wanted to see my daughter dressed up like me. And selfishly I got to take her out of school early so we could go to lunch at Chick-Fil-A. Because even the daddy needs that feeling of validation, the good childrearing seal of approval. I feel validated.

She Reports. You Decide.

2010-01-27T20:02:00.000-07:00

My daughter's ideas for the American recovery.

1. The deficit. Buy more Zhu Zhu pets. They are manufactured somewhere in China. If we import more Jillys, Pipsqueeks, and Num Nums (but not Mr. Squiggles, he's on a terror watch list), we will bolster China's ability to continue to buy our debt. Sounds plausible.

2. The economy. Now that the dollar is completely worthless, merchants and retailers will begin accepting Chuck E. Cheese and Peter Piper tokens as legal tender. When pressed, she did not have an answer for whether or not merchants would also be required to accept skee-ball tickets.

3. Clean energy. "I like to have on all the lights, dada." We will continue to leave on every light and television, day and night, thereby increasing our demand for our nuclear-generated electricity. Ok, the end may justify the means.

4. Jobs. "You need to go to work, dada, so we can get money and coins." Spoken like true management. Labor obliges.

5. Healthcare. "I don't like going to the doctor. Kids don't need to go to the doctor." I'm not sure I agree with that.

Wait...oh my God. I think my daughter is a Republican.

Baxing. It's Waxing...For Your Back.

2010-01-26T20:13:00.000-07:00

I have a bookmark on my bedside table that looks pretty similar to the simians pictured here. Audrey studied it intensely then reported to her mother, "Their hair looks just like daddy's hair."

I hoped she was talking about the spiky tufts of hair on their heads, but when asked for clarification, she was sure that "all their hair" looked like her dad's. Yes, I am one hirsute ape-man.

Before the pool season opens here in two months, I will surely manscape the appropriate regions. No kid should have to answer why their father is wearing a sweater in the pool.

Only Bananas And Ice Cream From Now On

2010-01-25T20:27:00.085-07:00

Maxwell is ten months old tomorrow. Maxwell still eats only baby food. Uh oh, Maxwell.

After consulting extensively with both Yahoo and Google Answers, we were very confident with a diagnosis of dysphagia. Out of medical prudence, we decided visit to the pediatrician for a second opinion. The little guy pounded a few shots of barium, was looked at under an x-ray, and deemed perfectly fine by the doctor. He is just a little slow learning to eat, which is really weird, because I can eat.

The poor little dude has a tendency to gag on anything solid. The gagging leads to coughing which leads to a re-dinnering. Vomit. Puke. Honk. Technicolor yawn. Every baby pukes, no big deal. But just like with their poop, big boy food equals big boy smell.

Tonight, he let loose with most of his mac and cheese and green beans all over himself and a little bit on me. It was the traditional gastric eau de toilette. Yesterday, he returned all of his peach yogurt on me, which, in a relatively pleasant turn of events, still smelled exactly like peach yogurt.

If you care, or if like me you are wondering how the hell you can get rid of that stench in your car, I offer you this brief chemistry lesson. The smell comes from butyric acid, which I might have already known if I was awake during any of my chemistry classes. This is also the same stinky stuff that is being tossed around on Whale Wars. So take that, Japanese whaling fleet. My boy is coming for you and he just ate beets.

No Alcohol Without A Permit. Dogs Must Be On A Leash. No Talking.

2010-01-24T19:29:00.005-07:00

Audrey and I took a Saturday morning outing to the park to feed the ducks, ride our scooter, and buy something besides organic dog biscuits at the famers' market. As the only dad at the playground for a couple hours, I tried to keep to myself. However, I did meet another nice dad and his daughter there. His daughter tried oh-so-valiantly to be friendly with my kid, but what the little girl didn't know is that we're there to play, not to socialize. Watching a five-year-old and a three-year-old having a conversation is like watching the conversation that you wished you had at work everyday.

"My name is Jessica."

"My name is Audrey."

"Do you want to be friends?"

"No, that's ok. I already have two friends."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"My little brother's name is Maxwell."

"My mom only has one kid because there are no more eggs in her belly."

"Oh. I have to go pee."

Way to shut her down when she got a little too personal, Audrey. It's not kid-Facebook. It's the playground.

Everyone Poops. Not Everyone Flushes.

2010-01-22T21:15:00.005-07:00

2009, big year. First African-American president sworn in. Conan takes over The Tonight Show. My kid is potty trained. Let's be realistic though. Each of these monumental successes has lost a little bit of their original luster. Obama has struggled to unite the nation and develop a viable universal health care plan. Conan was doomed by, of all people, his incredibly unfunny predecessor. My daughter doesn't flush her poop.

What gives? She doesn't have any fear of flushing, because pee gets flushed without a thought. So maybe it's just a little feces-fascination. "Children may be fearful that their bodies might be giving up something important." Important? If she ate a quarter, fine, save it and we'll dig around in it later. But otherwise, she's gonna have to let it go.

The non-flushing wouldn't be a big deal if she would let us know when she has pooped. It's finding the murky surprise three hours later that makes me wonder if it might be better to just put a port-a-potty in the backyard for the next year.

I think there are a few people at my work that may be fearful that their bodies might be giving up something important. It's a public restroom after all, so try to be kind to your fellow man. Unless someone keeps swallowing a quarter...

Sit Down Or I'm Going To Have To Pay Attention

2010-01-21T20:39:00.007-07:00

Apparently Arizona is in the middle of or should be bracing for the storm of the century. The Perfect Storm. West Coast Katrina. Meteorological armageddon. Or maybe just some wind and a few inches of rain. Either way it means that we are stranded in our home surrounded by ~~recently escaped criminals~~ our children.

Last night food supplies were dwindling so we braved the 60 degree weather and light drizzle and headed to Costco for rations. We've sought refuge in Costco before because, much like the UN, they hand out free food.

We picked up a few things and decided to wait out the breezy weather in the comfort of the food court. Although the food isn't Bobby Flay's chipotle-molasses ribs, it is really cheap and very tasty. We all got a slice of pizza and froyo (I said it) to wash it down. We eat there so often that Robyn bought a clip-on table seat for Max so he can smear his food on the table instead of the shopping cart. The seat always garners inquiries from curious parents. Usually something like, "Wow, where did you get that seat? Oh my God, your kid is choking!" or "Hey, your other kid is climbing into that garbage can over there." Yeah, that seat is great.

Things That Will Change Your Life, No. 27

2010-01-20T21:46:00.002-07:00

Number 27. Switch to a Mac. Robyn did and bought a beautiful 13" MacBook Pro. And now I did. Well, sort of. I made myself a nice little Hackintosh. I won't proclaim the gospel of Apple here...yet. But the whole system is very intuitive, fast, and stable, and fast.

Ingredients:

Dell Inspiron Mini 10v netbook (refurbished), $249 from dell.com/outlet

Retail copy of Snow Leopard OS X 10.6, $29 from Amazon

8 GB USB drive, borrowed free from a friend

a couple free install programs, another Mac to image the USB drive, and a little bit of patience

The whole netbook rebirth took me about three hours with only a couple minor hiccups. I now have a $278 Snow Leopard Mac that is smaller than a stack of three Time magazines. Suck it Bill Gates. Well, actually don't. You seem like a pretty nice guy with your foundation and all. That old company of yours though really makes a crappy computer. Yes, I am a nerd.

Man In The Mirror

2010-01-19T15:46:00.010-07:00

I'm pretty hip when it comes to knowing what my kids are watching or reading. I know that Dora's iguana's friend's name is Isa. I know that Caillou's little sister is Rosie. Kai-lan friended me on Facebook. But I have a problem with Arthur and how the money has changed him.

Arthur is some sort of brown, furry, most likely mammalian, possibly tailed, Harry-Potter-bespectacled...creature. We've read the books and watched the show, and until I Googled this freak, I had no idea what kind of animal he was. I asked Audrey and she said he is a mouse. I guessed he was a squirrel.

Turns out he is an aardvark. An aardvark?

Long after Audrey had become a full-fledged Arthur fan, we checked out the first Arthur book in the series-- vintage Arthur. And that book, irony of ironies, featured a prominent proboscis and the old school Arthur learning to be proud of his nosey uniqueness. Apparently Mr. Arthur author decided after his first book that a nosejob was in order. Now I can barely tell who, or what, Arthur is. Have we learned nothing from Michael Jackson?

I Laughed, I Cried, I Saved All Our Empty Tuna Fish Cans

2010-01-18T20:38:00.003-07:00

Every once in awhile, I need a little pick-me-up. Our TiVo is pretty jammed up with reruns of The Office, The Simpsons, and Max and Ruby. But I always make sure to grab a few feel-good episodes of Intervention and Hoarders. Don't ask me why I watch these nightmares. It's not schadenfreude because I don't revel in the misery of these people. But I will admit that it makes me feel just a little bit better about my life. A little bit more grateful. I've never done a line of coke off a gas station toilet seat or stored used adult diapers in our extra bedroom, but the collapse of these characters from seemingly functional human to broken being highlights the edge that may be a little closer than any of us would like to admit. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Your Sunday Funny

2010-01-17T07:51:00.002-07:00

The Rat King

2010-01-16T19:39:00.006-07:00

Look, I try to limit the amount of Chuck E. Cheese pizza, Fox News, and lead paint my children ingest. But I am only one man, one dada. I have been known to turn a blind eye to the occasional booger eating, but I cannot save them from every toxic evil.

Today, we purchased our first of what is sure to become a horde of Zhu Zhu pets. And if you couldn't guess from the name, the creatures are minted in China. Turns out when the Chinese are not busy filling our toothpaste with cadmium, they are filling Mr. Squiggles with antimony. Luckily, my kids know never to touch antimony without an adult present, so she skipped Mr. Squiggles and picked out the pink (of course) Zhu Zhu, Jilly.

Audrey enjoyed playing with Jilly. But Jilly, like Mr. Squiggles, has a dark, dangerous secret. Jilly crept up to my unsuspecting daughter's hair and lept onto her head. After the crying and computerized hamster-shrieking subsided, we were left with Jilly ensnared in the kid's hair, like some sort of giant motorized rat hairball. It wasn't until I was cutting out the rodent that I noticed the "may pose an entanglement hazard" sticker on the belly of the beast. Right.

So we bought her a heavy-metal laced entanglement hazard. Yes. And it keeps her occupied for hours.

We're Sorry For You

2009-08-11T12:13:00.001-07:00

Dear angry guy on the US Air flight from Phoenix to Boston,

We're sorry that you didn't enjoy all that is domestic air travel. Although the five year old boy and his grandparents seated behind you were the model of exemplary behavior, we regret that you were forced to endure an entire stanza of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Your cursing, muttering, rubbing of your temples, and pulling of your hair is understandable under these most trying of circumstances. The next time you choose to fly US Air, may we suggest something besides seething to help pass the time? If you are not afflicted by illiteracy, our Airbus A320 safety brochure, the ever-intruiging SkyMall catalogue, or the directions on an airsickness bag provide a much needed distraction from the human beings seated around you. Please use the enclosed drink coupons on your next travel from your mother's basement to the nearest Dungeons and Dragons convention. Thank you for choosing not to have your own children.
Sincerely,
US Air Customer Experience Management

You Are Now Returned To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

2009-08-07T15:53:00.000-07:00

This is a test. This is only a test. In the event of a real nap, both children would have actually been sleeping, and in their own beds.

Burnin' For You

2008-03-14T19:55:00.005-07:00

I had an almost-really-bad-day the other day. Flying along, all systems hunky dory, and then, an engine fire warning light. In an emergency, my normal response is to take one second before doing anything to gather my thoughts and take a deep breath. During that one second the other day, the first thought that I did gather was, "Oh, shizzo."

Being on fire is bad. Being a thousand feet above the ground and on fire is worse. After some quick checks though our problem was diagnosed as just a malfunctioning light, not a flaming engine.

In case of emergencies requiring a smiling baby, I keep pictures of The Lady with me when I'm flying. I have this collage of her on the back of my kneeboard. Although the "family pictures in the cockpit" sentiment was inspired by Cougar in Top Gun, I don't think I'll ever need the assistance of Tom Cruise to land the aircraft.

Her Father's Daughter

2008-03-13T21:36:00.003-07:00

From Tucson pediatrician, Dr. Heins: "Unlike thumb-sucking, nose-picking requires a fair amount of hand coordination to be successful, so repetitive nose-picking is not seen much before age four or five." According to the good doctor, The Lady is quite developmentally advanced. I always knew she would be able to dig one out early.

Mmmm...Change.

2008-03-04T20:48:00.003-07:00

Dark and satisfying with a deliciously sweet center.

My Kid Sounds Like...

2008-03-02T21:30:00.000-07:00

The Lady is really into yelling. The kind of yelling that forces you to close your eyes and pray that the damage to your tympanic membrane won't leave you bumbling around a Walgreens looking for a sale on hearing aids.

Doctor Smart tells us these "expressions" are just another precursor to real speech. So far her attempts at subject-predicate-object construction vaguely resemble somebody trying to pull off a Bill Cosby.

Sam Kinison and my daughter both sound like this when they want more chicken fingers. Actually I think Sam made that noise when he wanted more coke. At the end of her dinner, she usually wraps up with a Howard Dean-like "Yeaaaaaaawwwwwh!" His behavior cost him the Democratic nomination. Her behavior cost her two animal cookies.

"I want to pull the cat's tail and you can't stop me!"
--The Lady, 2008

This is pretty much exactly what she sounds like. I had no idea that yelling contests are also conducted outside of our household. Thankfully I sound nothing like that kid's dad.

Thanks, Global Climate Change!

2008-02-28T14:44:00.012-07:00

This is why we live in Phoenix and not Weymouth.

It's February and we put The Lady in the pool for the first time. Ok, we put her feet in because the water is only 65 degrees. Five seconds after this picture

was taken she fell into the water, but was surprisingly happy about it.

Note that The MaMa is just outside this frame because we are fanatics about her around the pool. I was shocked to find out that not all parents are vigilant about kids and water. I knew a guy that freely admitted that he and his wife regularly left their infant child alone in the bathtub, "but only for a few seconds." Seriously? This is one way to get the point across.

The First Happy Snap

2008-02-27T12:12:00.003-07:00

Robyn bought a new camera and, wow, is it ~~incredible~~ incredibly complicated. I did convince her to allow me to take it into the backyard and try my hand at capturing all that is The Lady. I took about fifty shots, and this one was by far the best. I think the b&w version adds a little mellowness to her contemplative look. I seem to have, inadvertently, met some of the elements of photographing kids. Certainly more to come.

"You want me to fetch what? When? Say again?"

2008-02-25T10:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, for the first time ever, we flew with a search and rescue dog in the back of the helicopter. Her partner didn't have any hearing protection for her, but these people make some dog-headwear that will do more than just humiliate your pooch.

Some people put these on their cats? I couldn't even get ours to tolerate a leash.

Your Sunday Funny

2008-02-24T05:12:00.000-07:00

Soooo true, Mr. New Yorker cartoonist. Made even funnier because I am working today. Not "working" like this, but working like this.

We Still Need Another 1.5 Kids

2008-02-23T20:32:00.004-07:00

A graphical representation of my life. I thought we had a lot of cats until I learned that we are only 1.8 cats above average. But we are way above average on poop and hairball production. Cats and kid share poop production. Cats are sole producers of hairballs (thus far).

Your Sunday Funny

2007-05-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

The Cat Is Out Of The Bag

2007-05-26T10:52:00.001-07:00

We're always on the lookout for a new cat gadget. Four cats equals lots of cat hair. Combs, brushes, de-tanglers, grooming mitts, scrapers-- all of them are no match for the FURminator®. I spent almost an hour brushing the felines and was reqarded with these prodigious piles of pelage. The actual tool is an expensive little bugger: $35 (PetSmart) for the cat sized version. You'll fork over nearly $60 for the poochy model. Best prices are available on eBay. It comes with a 30-day satisfaction guarantee. Don't worry, you'll love it. And your mousers will thank you.

Happy Mother's Day!

2007-05-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

To my mother, my mother-in-law, and the mother of our daughter, thank you for being such great examples to your children. Enjoy your day!

And He Lives In A Van Down By The River

2007-05-08T15:04:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of hanging out with this former POW over the past few weeks. Really nice guy, good pilot, and chock full of pretty amazing (race) stories. This farmer claims to have shot the golden bb that possibly brought down the Apache (pictured in background).

Your Sunday Funny

2007-05-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

And the gunship uses less gas than a Hummer.

F-14 V. Japanese Zero

2007-05-05T10:25:00.000-07:00

The USS HARRY S. TRUMAN entering a time warp, just like the NIMITZ.

U.S. Navy photo.

Glasnost

2007-05-01T09:13:00.000-07:00

Happy International Workers' Day. Please to enjoy your local parade of military might. I've always wondered why the US never celebrated May Day by driving tanks and missiles through the streets like the Soviets. I guess an airshow is about the closest show of force we can conjure up. If you're reading this at work, get back to laboring, peasant.

Living Off Bark And Elephant Dung

2007-04-30T08:22:00.000-07:00

I really like the new Discovery channel show Man vs. Wild. The host is a former British SAS operator turned outdoor-crazy-survival-guy. And his name is Bear, so he has to be tough. The show is pretty amazing and his limey accent gives the program an unmistakable air of credibility. Plus he writes a blogspot blog, so he is definitely cool.

Your Sunday Funny

2007-04-29T07:21:00.000-07:00

The End Is Near

2007-04-27T09:26:00.000-07:00

The "new" Juice, Barry Bonds, is going to be the all-time king this season. Tragic. I think MLB is in a quandary about how to commemorate the occasion. Issues that the Commish might be considering as he tries to boost ticket sales:

1. What if he breaks it on the road? He'll be booed mercilessly. Good.
2. Hank Aaron has already stated that he will not attend any event surrounding the record breaking. What would it take to get him into the parks as the inevitable day approaches?
3. What happens to the record and Bonds' impending Hall of Fame induction when proof surfaces that he was ingesting massive amounts of human growth hormone?
4. MLB needs Bonds more than Bonds needs MLB.
5. Some mega-record holders like Ripken are class acts. Bonds is a jackass. Who will pay Bonds to endorse anything short of a Girls Gone Wild video?

This Yahoo! page appeared when he surpassed Ruth last summer. Truly, an omen.

Lightheaded

2007-04-27T08:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I flew a sim with the NVG HUD system. The system is fairly primitive in that it is essentially a bolt-on addition to the already heavy ANVIS-6 night vision goggles. There is plenty of symbology to display on the eyepiece; too much, in my opinion. And the information scheme doesn't really match the analog cockpit layout so I couldn't figure out where the "important" numbers were. I prefer to just look under the goggles at my trusty ol' steam gauges. Plus I save myself the extra 1.5 pounds pulling down on my head.

Feet Dry

2007-04-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I've officially changed airframes. Seahawk driver is now a Blackhawk driver. Check ride complete, somewhat anticlimactically. My career goals in this aircraft are to complete a flight with four external tanks loaded and strap on a pair of skis. Living in Arizona, I think the skis might take awhile.

Bird's Eye View

2007-04-24T14:51:00.000-07:00

The other day I flew right over the tornadic aftermath in Enterprise, Alabama. Later in the week I drove through a neighborhood in the same area. The destruction is unbelievable. It looks as though bulldozers just pushed everything flat. The high school where eight students were killed looks like a bomb exploded on the campus. Blue tarps serving as temporary roofs dot the landscape for miles. Makes me glad to live in a disaster-free state.

Zowns!

2007-04-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

Holy crap. I was attempting to study the intricacies of the Blackhawk hydraulic leak detection and isolation system while the BOS-NYY game droned in the background. But then...Manny hammers one into the streets outside Fenway and the next three batters follow suit. Four home runs in a row. Nothing like The Nation taking it to The Evil Empire.

Missing Man Formation

2007-04-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

The Blue Angels lost one of their own in a mishap this weekend. I've always been awed by their performances, especially the tight formations. Unlike their North American counterparts, the Thunderbirds and the Snowbirds, the Blues' signature move is close form. Really close form. Form so close that you could stand up in the seat and touch the other aircraft. Form so close that they can, and do, swap paint during flight. And that is why it looks so amazing from the ground. Fair winds and following seas, #6.

The aviator's verse from the Navy Hymn:

Eternal Father, lend Thy grace
To those with wings who fly thro' space,
Thro wind and storm, thro' sun and rain,
Oh bring them safely home again.
Oh Father, hear an humble prayer,
For those in peril in the air! Amen.

Recycled

2007-04-21T12:51:00.002-07:00

Now that I am a safety-officer-to-be, I thought I would dig up some of my safety related memorabilia. The below is my first (but not only, hopefully) published aviation writing. Reprinted from the December 2001 issue of the Naval Safety Center's monthly magazine, Approach. Please pardon the Navy jargon, but enjoy.

(Almost) Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Primary

As I sat in my tiny FFG stateroom, muddling through the final weeks of a counter-drug ops cruise, I realized there are axioms of aviation that, no matter what your experience level, will always hold true. I learned a few of these early in my career as a naval aviator, during primary flight training in the mighty T-34C Mentor. My on-wing, a Marine CH-46 driver, never failed to pass along the truisms of flying, often using colorful language to capture my attention. Here are the translations of his aviation oratories and how I have managed to incorporate them into fleet flying.

"What are you doing up there?" My esteemed instructor had his own way of developing the finer points of CRM from the back seat. In multi-place aircraft, the copilot and crew are there to help you, just as you are there to help them.

"Have you even read your NATOPS?" Despite his criticism of my systems knowledge, I really did read my NATOPS. Now that your fleet aircraft NATOPS is about four times as thick as the T-34s, there is plenty of reading to be done.

"Underwater is not the time to inspect your SV-2." Before you walk, make sure your HEED bottle has air and your PRC-90 and the rest of your gear works so you will be somewhat comfortable if you go for an unexpected swim.

"You're preflighting the wrong aircraft." Yes, I did this once. Checking the tail number is just part of the attention to detail demanded by every preflight, whether on the beach, at an airshow, or on the dark, cold, rain-slicked flight deck.

"Zip up your pockets." After witnessing numerous near-FOD incidents, this is part of my personal preflight every time I get on or in the aircraft. Extra change rolling around in the engine compartment never did anyone any good.

"Are you going to put the gear down?" Checklists aren't just a fact of life; they are the crux of safety in aviation. Rushing to meet the critical launch, becoming lax and not paying attention in the cockpit have caused more than just gear-up landings.

"Relax and take it one step at a time." When the master caution light or fire light comes on, don't rush to complete the immediate-action items. Take time to determine the precise nature of the problem, then methodically configure the aircraft. When fighting emergencies, speed can kill.

"Knock, knock. That's your ball trying to get back in." Nowhere is solid instrument flying more important than when launching into the inky blackness at sea. A poor scan and lack of proficiency can allow vertigo to seize even the most savvy aviator.

"This hop will be over when we run out of gas." Yes, it most certainly will. Ideally, that time also will coincide with a suitable runway or deck. Trying to stretch the legs of your aircraft can lead to disaster. Hawk your fuel, whether droning around your local NAS or venturing far from Mom on the big blue.

"It doesn't look like it's going to clear up. You're canceled." OK, sometimes bad weather has its benefits.

"Fly the aircraft. Don't let the aircraft fly you." Aviate. The first commandment of the always-germane rule: aviate, navigate, communicate.

"Where are you going?" Navigate. This is the second most important thing you can do in the aircraft. If you don't know where you are going, you won't be able to get back.

"Think, key, speak." Communicate. Tell your lead, wing or controller what you need and want. This will set you up for success. Keep in mind that comm brevity and radio discipline are essential elements of tactical flying. Just ask the air boss.

The author is a former detachment maintenance officer in HSL-47. His on-wing's whereabouts are unknown.

A Dangerous Game

2007-04-20T13:11:00.000-07:00

Why kids shouldn't play first person shooters. Seven years ago the APA studied what the world felt this week.

Your Sunday Funny

2007-02-18T06:53:00.000-07:00

Reading: It's Like Words For Your Brain

2007-02-17T21:13:00.000-07:00

I love to read. Always have. In a sort of nerd Le Mans, I tried to read 20,000 pages of books during a high school summer vacation. That's fifty 400-pagers in ninety days. I fell well short of that mark. But still I'm rarely without a book on my bedside table. Here are my observations.

Recent completions
Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer - Weird LDS hystery (that's a historical mystery...I just made that up.) Krakauer wrote one of my favorite book of all time, Into the Wild.
The Night Stalkers by Michael J. Durant and Steven Hartov - A string of helicopter adventures. Good, not great.
The know it all by AJ Jacobs - Man reads encyclopedia and writes about it. Creative, if nothing else.
The Google Story by David Vise - Thought it would be as good as The Perfect Store. It wasn't.
Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson - In work currently. Already an outstanding find.
Heart of the Storm by Edward L. Fleming - See The Night Stalkers above.
Cocaine by Dominic Streatfeild - The definitive book on coke. Tedious at times, but overall a nice heady high.

I like to read non-fiction, only because sometimes the truth is truly stranger. And secretly I have wondered how reading as an adult is any more intellectually stimulating than a PBS special. Here's why.

Amazon has some great recommendations, especially listmania. But once I find my book, it's off to the Phoenix Public Library. Free books at the click of a button. Lavar Burton would be so proud.

What About A Nice Walkie Talkie?

2007-02-12T06:32:00.000-07:00

We wanted out of our Verizon Wireless contract, and there has never been a better time to exit. The Consumerist has a script that will lead you to freedom. I can attest that this works like a charm. After eighteen minutes, our accounts were cancelled without penalty, saving us $350 in early termination fees. Can you hear me now?

I think Verizon has great coverage, but our 15 minutes per month of "I'm on my way home now, do you need anything at the store?" calls weren't worth $80. Virgin Mobile, here we come.

Your Sunday Funny

2007-02-11T09:11:00.000-07:00

We have too many cats and we watch too much of The White Rapper Show.

Just Another Happy Day

2007-02-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

I'm not really a gun guy and I'm certainly no marksman. To date, my military firearms training has consisted of shooting a Sig off the fantail of a ship at bags of trash. Incredibly, I was able to qualify on the M9 today. And I ate an MRE for lunch, which was surprisingly tasty. I'm practically in the real Army now.

Here Comes The Sun

2007-02-09T20:06:00.000-07:00

Minus the tv antenna, the electrical pole, and our neighbor's roof, today's sunrise reminded me of my blog header.

I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

2007-02-06T19:19:00.000-07:00

My alma mater holds the proud record of graduating more American astronauts than any other undergraduate institution in the country. It has now earned the distinction of graduating more crazy astronauts than any other school.

Mrs. Spacely wore adult diapers so that she wouldn't have to take bathroom breaks on her fifteen hour drive to eliminate her rival. That's determination. Diapers on a Shuttle mission: acceptable. Diapers at Mardi Gras: acceptable. Diapers for a long car drive: crazy.

Terror Emitting Diodes

2007-02-05T06:53:00.000-07:00

The only cartoons I watch are The Simpsons, Little Einsteins, and Dora the Explorer. But thanks to a panicky public and an obviously overzealous police department, I now know about Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The mooninite voice sounds like the Microsoft text-to-speech translator. Special thanks to Boston PD for keeping me hip.

I predict the ATHF craze will fizzle slightly faster than Gremlins.

Your Sunday Safety Tip

2007-02-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

Sign from some flightseeing operator. But seriously, it's a mess to clean up.

Your Sunday Funny

2007-01-28T17:43:00.000-07:00

After nearly losing a digit in an electrical near miss today, I found this to be appropriate.

Pretty Much The Same

2007-01-27T21:04:00.000-07:00

What I know.

What I need to learn.

Boogey! Boogey! Boogey!

2007-01-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

I love the direct personification of our worldwide archenemy. During the state of the union, our exalted leader referred to terrorists as "the terrorists" no less than four times. Use of the article "the" is a deliberate literary attempt to put a face on a faceless existence. The Boogeyman is scarier than a boogeyman. I had to chuckle thinking about "the terrorists" getting together at their annual meeting.

Call Me Science

2007-01-14T18:49:00.000-07:00

I'm pumped. Dead people, skinned, injected with plastic, and splayed out for the world to see. This sci-art hits the Arizona Science Center at the end of this month. I will definitely be among the 400,000 projected visitors. I haven't been to the ASC since tesla was still cool. This tesla, not this tesla.

Your Sunday Funny/Scary

2007-01-07T22:52:00.000-07:00

At this rate, it will be 178°F in Phoenix this summer.

Why My Wife Loves Me

2007-01-02T21:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I'm living a lie. I'm finally coming out, er, clean. I hate sports. I don't know the first thing about football. Or basketball. Or fantasy foosball. I've lived with this secret for as long as I can remember.

For my entire life people have engaged me with questions like, "Dude, did you see Lebron James hit that homerun for the Jaguars last night?" No. No, I didn't.

Yesterday in Boston, a guy at the airport ticket counter asked me if I was going to Phoenix "to see the big game." I mumbled something about having to work then let my voice trail off in quiet embarassment. Could he smell the stink of my deceit? If I had the slightest idea of what "big game" he was referencing, maybe I could have mustered up a believable excuse.*

But I have tried. Oh, how I have tried. I'll watch MLB's League Championships and The World Series. I have even lingered on a hockey game and a NASCAR race. And I've always enjoyed playing sports. But even the sports I have played, and played with some degree of talent, I might add, can be fairly categorized as weird: waterpolo, ping pong, and ultimate frisbee.

I have learned to hide my sporting obtuseness. I can usually ask a harmless follow-up question that will preserve my facade without leading to additional conversation. So if you're discussing the "big game" last night and I am smiling and nodding politely, chances are I have no idea what you are talking about. I don't even know what channel ESPN is on.

*Turns out he was wondering if I was going to the Fiesta Bowl. On the flight home I was thinking about his inquiry and the only "big game" I knew of was the Superbowl, over a year away.

Ed. Note: These people really don't like sports. I actually wish I liked sports. Life would be easier that way.

But The View Is Amazing

2006-12-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

I have never scaled Mount Everest, but I have been to the summit of Piestewa Peak quite a few times. All without the benefit of supplemental oxygen. Lately, Robyn and I have come about as close to Everest as we will ever get, thanks to the new Discovery Channel documentary, Everest: Beyond the Limit. It doesn't take much to get me to watch something on DSC (as long as that something doesn't showcase those overhyped Orange County idiots). However, if it is on DSC and Robyn likes it, it must be great. Truly, this series is great.

Unlike seasoned climbers, the times I have been at 29,000 feet above sea level have been in the back of a commercial aircraft. As I struggled to relieve the numbness in my lower back during our flight to Boston yesterday, I found that there were other startling similarities between scaling the highest mountain on the planet and traveling coach class in an A319. Here are my reflections from the top.

Miles of walking over rugged and unfamilar terrain are required just to reach an intermediate camp (or connecting flight).

Only sherpas have the über-human strength and stamina necessary to carry the hundreds of pounds of required bags and supplies.

At altitude, there is barely enough food to survive. Minimal sustinence consists of processed rations in one of the following forms: gel, dehydrated, freeze dried, or powdered.

Ultimate success or failure is at the behest of Mother Nature. For climbers, failure is the end of a dream. For air travelers, failure is the start of a nightmare that includes sleeping at gate B26 and eating TCBY for breakfast, Cinnabon for lunch, and Pizza Hut for dinner.

Space and movement are so limited that you have to urinate in a cup and throw it out. Ok, on a commercial flight, this is frowned upon.

2006-12-09T20:18:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, I don't get out very much. But in typical Christmas vernacular, we ventured into the dark heart of American consumerism: Scottsdale Fashion Square. I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the situation. Thousands of contumelious teenagers and Snobsdale socio-elites flooded wreath bedecked halls in an orgy of commerce. Truly, my ninth circle of hell.

Robyn sped off and left baby and me to fend for ourselves. I wandered aimlessly, pushing an empty stroller with baby strapped securely to my chest. In the throng of passers-by, a woman hails me and asks, "Do you know where the movie theater is?" This question made me laugh on so many levels. First, I didn't even know where we were parked. Second, keeping in mind I have a four-month-old baby on my chest, when do you think was the last time I made it to the movies? Third, I'm a 32 year old man with a baby strapped to my chest. Do I appear to be the best candidate to answer your mall information inquiry? I politely told her I didn't know.

I stopped to sit on a bench while baby napped peacefully. Another weary dad and baby sat down next to me hoping for a brief respit. Anonymous Dad strikes up a nice conversation about his Anonymous Kid, his dad life, and his Anonymous Wife. Eventually, Mrs. Anonymous Dad shows up and whisks him away for what is undoubtedly more torture. Certainly, a forgettable event.

My dilemma is this. How do I ask another dude for his phone number? I could use another dad pal in this life and this guy certainly made the grade. But coming right out and asking a guy for his number is a little, well, yeah. I wouldn't even know what to say. "Hey, it was great talking with you. Maybe we can get together sometime and talk more about getting the kids to sleep?" Seems a little stalker-ish. I never was good at asking for numbers. Anonymous Dad, if you're out there, I like reading, walks on the beach, and playing Scrabble.

Fox Funday

2006-11-12T09:19:00.000-07:00

8:22 tonight, we get a glimpse of the film that will change the world.

But Once A Year Does It Pass

2006-10-30T21:14:00.000-07:00

For an epicurean undertaking as complex as the state fair, I needed to prepare a checklist. My record of completion and comments below.

þ Indian fry bread with beans and cheese. This is my state fair tradition. I can't recall a time when we went to the fair and I didn't get a Navajo taco.
þ Funnel cake with strawberries. Had a few bites of this. Perfectly crispy and delicious. Makes me want to sell the house, buy an RV, a funnel cake machine, and roam the country with my carny bretheren.
þ Fresh roasted corn on the cob. Mmmmm, corn.
þ Deep fried Snickers. This was my first sampling of the deep fried sweet craze. I have to admit, although tasty, I would not order it again.
þ Fried zuchini, onion rings, mushrooms, and artichokes. I mistakenly ordered this veggie platter from a place serving fish. The vegetables were big and fresh, but the batter was flavorless and non-descript. As Robyn would say, "You didn't like it because the vegetable-to-batter ratio was too high." Indeed.
þ Deep fried Coke. I expected this. What I got was something that looked like a soggy corndog and tasted like warm, flat Coke.
þ Deep fried cookie dough. After three offerings, I've decided I don't like the fried sweets. I like my fried salty, meaty, and on a stick. Preferably of the pork variety.
þ Spicy cajun corndog. There is nothing like a true state fair corndog. A foot of some sort of spicy meat, dipped in corny batter, and served on its own souvenir stick.
þ Polish sausage corndog. This needs some explaining. I wanted the cajun 'dog because I wanted the true creole experience. I had not finished turning the stick horizontally to gnaw
the last batter remnants, when across the fairway I did spy the elusive Polish sausage corndog. Back to back 'dogs? Could it be done? I sidled up to the counter, slapped down my fin, and asked for a Polish. The carny looked right at me and asked incredulously, "Didn't you just eat one?" Yes I did, brother. Yes I did. This is a true story.
þ Frozen banana. The crown jewel of stick-based cuisine. God's perfect fruit made even more perfect through the magic of refrigeration, chocolate, and of course, the stick.
o Grilled turkey leg. The line was too long. I'll catch you at Thanksgiving, Mr. Turkey.

Until next year, I leave you with these words of gratitude from Homer Simpson.

"He's not just some guy, Marge. He's a Carny and part of a noble tradition. Carnies built this country--the carnival part of it anyway--and though they may be rat-like in appearance, they are truly kings among men."

The Wild Parakeets Of The Golden Horseshoe

2006-10-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

I finally got a shot of the wild 'keets socializing in our tree. Apparently the rest of the world calls them budgies.

Not In My Backyard (But I Wish They Were)

2006-10-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

These friendly little piglets are javelinas. The little pellets are pieces of dog food on which they love to snack. The babies are two days old. These collared peccaries are wild and free roaming. Pictures courtesy of a guy at my work, taken looking out on his 10 acre spread in New River.

I Wish It Was Waterworld

2006-10-07T09:43:00.000-07:00

Name this movie storyline.

Kevin Costner stars as a washed up pro who is too old to get back into the game. He struggles with reconciling his past success with his current role as a mentor in a training environment. The only connection to his storied past are the dreams of a brash young talent. But he finds that much has changed in the passing of the torch to the new generation.

If you said Bull Durham, I'd say you just got punk'd. If you said The Guardian, I'd say, why do you know the plot of this hackneyed mush? Did you actually watch it?

Let It Grow

2006-09-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

Three cool living things that appeared in our backyard recently.

1. This guy is probably a waved sphinx. And I think he likes to munch on our jalapeño plant.

2. This hibiscus has no business growing in full sun and radiant heat from a block wall. How it thrives I'll never know.

3. This parakeet is among about ten others that regularly appear to eat seed and socialize. They always arrive in pairs. I couldn't get a good shot with his friend. White, yellow, blue, and green are the other varieties. With these pictures, I feel like we live in Hawaii, not Arizona.

Greatest Day Ever. Ever.

2006-08-16T18:29:00.000-07:00

I didn't know I had this much love in my heart.
We love you, Audrey.

Things You Might Have Missed

2006-06-19T21:22:00.000-07:00

I noticed this on Yahoo!'s most emailed photos today. If you are going to assemble 17,000+ sailors and most of the Pacific theater's military firepower for what amounts to a "picture on Santa's lap," you could at least ensure that all the children are wearing their best clothes, have their eyes open, and are smiling. Careful observation of this picture reveals two errors (click on photo for edits):

1. Air Force pilots are incapable of flying a decent echelon left. That's an F-16 so grossly out of position.

2. If you look closely, you can see the helo buzzing around in the distance. From one helo pilot to another: have some pride and stay out of the cool picture. People like you best when you deliver pizza and mail.

Happy Father's Day!

2006-06-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

To my dad, and the other dads and dads to be (that's me!), happy Father's Day! I got this great book to commemorate my first of many Father's Days. I read it and cried like our soon to be born baby.

Temporary Felt Covered Wall Hangings

2006-06-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

To pass the time until the next season of The Office...I love the single camera work on these clips. Here is their other site. I was actually looking for something like this to brighten my workspace.

Your Sunday Cartoon

2006-06-11T17:56:00.000-07:00

I didn't know Over The Hedge was first a comic strip. Am I living under a rock?

A Mile And A Half In His Shoes

2006-05-29T15:37:00.000-07:00

I found this article after poking around in some Yahoo! groups to which I subscribe. As the officer that used to brief these cases to Academy leadership, I know that the Review Board has shown more than its share of leniency-- to the detriment of consistency.

I recall Mr. Shannon, but he had not risen to a level of great concern when I was in this position. Despite his size and reputed strength, any football coach will tell you that a 10:30 1.5-mile time should be easily attainable. I know from experience that any student in this position is screened by a panel of senior physicians to eliminate the possibility of any physical ailment. Barring a physical condition, there should be no reason why a 23 year old man cannot meet this relatively low standard. But the physical fitness standard is not the issue here.

I'm sorry that he is shouldered with this monstrous debt at such a young age. Truly, I am. However, the Naval Academy espouses itself to be "the cradle of leadership." And without standards, there will never be growth and development of, supposedly, the nation's finest.

Mr. Shannon has invoked the name of his Congressman for assistance. Sen. Mikulski, bless your heart, it is your astute body that set the compliance to these standards. And these standards, I argue, are broken not only by the midshipmen, but more egregiously, by the administrators themselves. My chief complaint during my tour at USNA was the murk of unpredictability and opacity that surrounded these separation hearings. In my experience, an identical set of facts could yield any permutation of administrative discipline, ranging from a verbal warning to discharge with debt recapture. Frighteningly, I was rarely able to correctly predict the outcome of a student's case.

I'm not givng Mr. Shannon a pass. I'm not giving the Academy leadership a pass either. When exceptions are more common than the rule, the rule making body needs to reevaluate their effectiveness.

Proeliator Senator

2006-05-28T22:56:00.000-07:00

Translation: Warrior Senator

What isn't to like about Senate hopeful, James Webb? He's a Marine attorney/author from Nebraska that graduated from the Naval Academy and is now running on the Democratic ticket in Virginia. Of course his Republican opposition is already mounting a campaign to discredit his military record, which includes the receipt of the Navy Cross. Tasteful. Having read, listened to, and met this man, I can attest that he is the real deal. Jim, do you want to move to Arizona?

2006-05-28T09:45:00.000-07:00

One of the best strips ever. Too bad G. Larson doesn't want them published electronically. If I get one of these letters, at least I know someone is reading. Fair use, fair use!

Crack The Code: thi(s) book = s(u)ck / e(d)

2006-05-23T19:51:00.000-07:00

I am officially declaring myself the second-to-last person on the planet to read The Da Vinci Code. Mom, you can borrow it now. I am also declaring myself the first open minded liberal to say that it was a big disappointment. I'm not angry about the theme or fictional insinuations. I'm angry that I wasted a few hours of my life on this sixth grade reading assignment.

I don't read much fiction...and I broke down to swallow this bland morsel? A contrived, formulaic offering, served at room temperature over a bed of transparent characters, smothered in predictability and snoozy dialogue. Bon appétit, Mona Lisa.

Give Them The Bird

2006-05-22T19:14:00.000-07:00

Hey! These guys ripped off the City of Phoenix logo! I haven't figured out exactly what they do down in the Dominican Republic. The Google translate function tells me they do something with aircraft. No other line of airplanes makes so many things, in so many places and for as much people. Ahh, muy clearer.

Your Sunday Cartoon

2006-05-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day!

2006-05-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

For my wife, a mother-to-be, and my mom, the mother of me. Today, and everyday, we honor you.

No Shoes. No Shirt. No Kidding.

2006-05-09T18:28:00.000-07:00

I've done a little rehab on ye olde blog.

Writing a blog should be fun. Fun is voicing opinion. I need more fun.

You might notice that there is less advertising. I've removed our business logos so that there aren't mass demonstrations outside our respective places of employment. Why does georgiedesigns get a pass? Well, it might be difficult to protest and loot an eBay account. As for RESCUE, maybe would-be rioters would stop by to adopt a cat.

Why worry about rioters? This burrito could use some opinion-flavored salsa. Hang on people. It's going to be a wild and liberally subversive ride.

What you can expect:
More bird flu. Less mad cow.
More great taste. Less gassy bloating.
More Raleigh. Less Durham.
More Nelson. Way, way, less Milhouse.

Fuel up the SUV. Grab your Bible, your gun, and your Bush/Cheney sticker. We're going to crash a gay wedding. But not before we get some Mexicans to clean up the backyard.

Your Sunday Cartoon

2006-05-07T16:41:00.000-07:00

Nuggets of Gold From Madison Ave.

2006-05-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

Sure, we have TiVo, but every once in a great while, a commercial sneaks through. Here are the best out there right now. Enjoy.

1. A worm doing the worm. Genius.
2. Safe happens. The idiot that thinks these commercials are counterproductive should be canned. Ironic that he says the spots are ineffective as he is being interviewed about the commercial campaign. Honorable mention for unpimp the auto.
3. Push it, Nextel. Try to get this song out of your head.
4. Nothing like a chimp smoking a cigar.
5. Hank. Again with the worm. This time to Gary Glitter's "Rock and Roll Part II."

Happy Easter!

2006-04-16T21:12:00.000-07:00

Macho Man

2006-04-13T20:40:00.000-07:00

Apparently my attempt at naming our so-far nameless neighborhood "The Golden Horseshoe" hasn't caught on. The city has come up with a system of urban villages and we, according to the planning and zoning board, are village people of the Paradise Valley Village.

Cowboys, sailors, and bike cops all peacefully co-existing in the Indian Bend Wash flood control district.

The Best Thing To Come Out Of Casa Grande Since, Well, Ever.

2006-04-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

Oh snap. Fear the comedy Cerberus that is Stewart, Colbert, and Spade. My favorite whiner is back doing what he did best on SNL- whine and make fun of people. Whine on, whiner. Casa Grande boy makes good, then lame (8 Simple Rules..., Just Shoot Me) , then good again.

Holy Crap!

2006-04-02T17:02:00.000-07:00

I can't believe they're going to do it. I have never camped out in ridiculous lines to see a movie opening. Although sitting in a lawn chair, eating junk food, and not showering for two days sounds like any other weekend for me. First in line, here I come. Please don't let the movie end the series. Please.

Isn't He Adorable?

2006-01-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

Today's topic is scorpions. No, not these guys, although they can truly rock you in a manner similar to a cyclonic sub-tropical depression.

Apparently scorpions can survive for long periods without food or water. What if all those scorpions encased in acrylic are still alive? I might saw mine open to see. If he is alive after spending his life on a Wal-Mart shelf and then my desk, he certainly deserves to roam free on the desert floor.

In the interest of accuracy, I will seek to confirm two rumors:
1. Cats can and will eat scorpions with no problems.
2. Cats are immune to scorpions.
My cursory research says both are not entirely true. I'll post my findings in a future article. Until then, shake out your shoes.

All My Friends Know The Low Rider

2006-01-21T19:50:00.000-07:00

If you drive some sort of gas-guzzling monster truck, please stop reading. You'll only want to drive your truck-a-saurus over me. If you drive a normal, legal, vehicle, keep reading.

Hypothesis: If you spend big bucks to raise the suspension of your truck/jeep/SUV/Humvee/golf cart into the ionosphere, you probably don't spend your weekends at Mensa meetings. I have observed the drivers of these highway behemoths and developed an equation that will calculate the IQ of the driver based on the lifted height of the truck:

IQ = -4.7059L + 104.74 where L is lifted height in inches up to 18 inches

Try it. Then find out what IQ means and what these people do for a living. "Slow, simple, and supervised?" What are you doing driving a massive 4x4?
PS- If you do drive a monster truck and read this far, I apologize for using big confusing words.

Happy Birthday, Ryno!

2006-01-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

A day late. At least you can now (legally) enjoy a hangover. The cure they overlooked: start drinking again.

An Army Of Like One, Dude

2005-12-17T18:39:00.000-07:00

The Air Force recruiting slogan used to be "Aim High". The Army has their own interpretation of that sentiment that goes something like: "Aim low. That way if you miss you can blame it on bad aim."

My favorite quote in the article is from some officer talking about what recruiters are doing to bolster the ranks. "They're spending more time now talking to high seniors...asking about what they are doing next summer." High seniors? Yes, kids these days are known to smoke the weed. Luckily, our Army is apparently in need of stone-faced stoners to root out the insurgents and then fire up a big fat bong with them.

I imagine talking to these high seniors might go something like:

High Senior: Next summer? I dunno. My friend said he could get me this job at McDonald's. My girlfriend works at Blockbuster right next to it. It's cool, you know. My parents are cool with me doing whatever I want, so that's cool. Why, is there a party or something?

Recruiter: Actually, I was hoping you might want to join the Army and help fight the war on terror in Iraq.

High Senior: Oh. Yeah, um...It kind of looks, like, bad there? Plus I think my girlfriend really wants me to try for that job at McDonald's. Thanks though. Dude, you got any weed?

A Christmas Cat

2005-12-16T20:45:00.001-07:00

This young lady showed up at our neighbor's house. Of course they started feeding her but can't keep her because their daughter is allergic. Yadda, yadda, yadda...we have a cat in our garage. She would be in the house but our three other wolverines might eat her. Her name is Flower, courtesy of the little neighbor girl. She is about six months old and very friendly and vocal. As seen in the below photo, she even loves to eat out of my namesake bowl! If any of the five readers in blogland want to give a nice cat a nice home for the holidays, I will pay your initial vet costs and throw in a supply of my shamelessly branded bowls! How can you resist that face?

Goodbye Land Of The Free, Hello Home Of The Brave

2005-12-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

A few examples of how, and rightfully why, "free" media is dying an agonizingly slow death. Let's clarify our working definition of "free" as it relates to media. Free of subscription fees, but subsidized by commercials and subject to the whims of their revenue stream and the scourge of regulatory agencies.
1. Premium cable channels are the Elysian Fields of television shows that are too smart or edgy for all those viewers in flyover country.
2. Pay-per-view. What you want, when you want it. Now you can see everything that E! couldn't get away with. I'm scared.
3. Seriously? People watch this?
4. I couldn't resist. As you are reading this, terrestrial radio is wheezing out its last breaths.
Pay media is already here. Unless you watch three local television broadcasts via an antenna/tinfoil receiver, you're paying for PAX, Lifetime, and CSPAN. Why not pay for something you'll actually watch? Your brain thanks you.

Su El Domingo Chistoso

2005-12-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

¡Goce!

Love Me Tender

2005-12-06T19:40:00.000-07:00

I drove by this ridiculously named business today.

One kid? Just add $199!
Two or more kids? Only $499 more!
Ask about our discounts for marriages of three months or less!
Get divorced before December 31st and receive a FREE pre-nup for your next visit!

How many of the Store's clientele exchanged their sacred vows in front of The King? He must be rolling over in his extra-large coffin.

Your Sunday Funny

2005-12-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

Enjoy.

You've Got Mail (unfortunately)

2005-12-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

Sick of digging through pounds of junk mail? Me too. I completed my mission of getting our address removed from every available marketing list that I could find. Here are the results of my exhaustive phone, email, and letter campaign. You will not find a more comprehensive or accurate list on the internet. I guarantee it. Total time investment for you: 30 minutes. Total monetary investment: 37 cents. Don't worry, catalog shoppers, existing business relationships with your stores will not be harmed.

ADVO. They sell your name and address to local stores for inclusion of circulars with your mail. Usually accompanied with a missing kid postcard so they can meet addressing requirements. 860.285.6100

Trimerged credit opt out. For removal of your name and anonymous creditworthiness from all three bureaus. Click or call 888.5 OPT OUT.

Direct Marketing Association. This is the only letter you will need to mail, but definitely the most important. This is the secret password to get you off hundreds of lists you never even knew existed. It works, but give it about six months to see a reduction in junk mail. If you only do one on this list, this is the one.

Val-Pak Coupons. You will have to put in the delivery code from a mailing to get off their list. Sneaky little creatures, they are. 888.797.1896

Abacus, a Division of DoubleClick, Inc. They track you across the internet with cookies. Just put your name, address and OPT OUT in the message body. 303.410.5100

Acxiom CIMS. Same as Abacus.

AOL. If I get another stupid CD…The best about these idiots and their horrible service is that the kid asked me if I wanted to sign up for an account after I told him to take me off the mailing list. 800.605.4297

Publishers’ Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. Ed, you look even worse than your mailings.
800.645.9242

Haines and Company. Ask for Ms. Pat Lefferts. Get a kick out of her smoker’s voice.
800.254.3449

The trees thank you. And thanks to JunkBusters for getting me started.

Dreaming Of An Iraq Exit Strategy

2005-11-30T18:33:00.000-07:00

This clown (Actual photo from Harvard's actual site. You can't make this stuff up.) spoke at my alma mater today. The future warfighters seemed equally impressed with their Commander-in-Chief.

Cub reporter Ryan Smith gets the scoop.

Fly, Eagles, Fly

2005-11-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

What a way to honor your mother. What is it about the Birds that makes people go krazy? E-A-G-L-E-S...EAGLES! I feel like running around the block naked.

Dadaisms

I Thought You Were Supposed To Be Polite?

Oh. Canada?

Pardon The Interruption

Parking Wars

Rhythm Is Gonna Get You..A Chance To Clean Up

Jonesing For Blow Pops

Being Pretty Much All That I Can Be

She Reports. You Decide.

Baxing. It's Waxing...For Your Back.

Only Bananas And Ice Cream From Now On

No Alcohol Without A Permit. Dogs Must Be On A Leash. No Talking.

Everyone Poops. Not Everyone Flushes.

Sit Down Or I'm Going To Have To Pay Attention

Things That Will Change Your Life, No. 27

Man In The Mirror

I Laughed, I Cried, I Saved All Our Empty Tuna Fish Cans

Your Sunday Funny

The Rat King

We're Sorry For You

You Are Now Returned To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

Burnin' For You

Her Father's Daughter

Mmmm...Change.

My Kid Sounds Like...

Thanks, Global Climate Change!

The First Happy Snap

"You want me to fetch what? When? Say again?"

Your Sunday Funny

We Still Need Another 1.5 Kids

Your Sunday Funny

The Cat Is Out Of The Bag

Happy Mother's Day!

And He Lives In A Van Down By The River

Your Sunday Funny

F-14 V. Japanese Zero

Glasnost

Living Off Bark And Elephant Dung

Your Sunday Funny

The End Is Near

Lightheaded

Feet Dry

Bird's Eye View

Zowns!

Missing Man Formation

Recycled

A Dangerous Game

Your Sunday Funny

Reading: It's Like Words For Your Brain

What About A Nice Walkie Talkie?

Your Sunday Funny

Just Another Happy Day

Here Comes The Sun

I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

Terror Emitting Diodes

Your Sunday Safety Tip

Your Sunday Funny

Pretty Much The Same

Boogey! Boogey! Boogey!

Call Me Science

Your Sunday Funny/Scary

Why My Wife Loves Me

But The View Is Amazing

Fox Funday

But Once A Year Does It Pass

The Wild Parakeets Of The Golden Horseshoe

Not In My Backyard (But I Wish They Were)

I Wish It Was Waterworld

Let It Grow

Greatest Day Ever. Ever.

Things You Might Have Missed

Happy Father's Day!

Temporary Felt Covered Wall Hangings

Your Sunday Cartoon

A Mile And A Half In His Shoes

Proeliator Senator

Your Sunday Cartoon©

Crack The Code: thi(s) book = s(u)ck / e(d)

Give Them The Bird

Your Sunday Cartoon