The Big Fella's Blogs

Jambalaya recipe

2012-01-30T06:57:00.001-06:00

Chicken breasts - two big ones
Sausage (andouille, kielbasa, or smoked sausage) - 1 pound
Crushed tomatoes - 1 28-ounce can
Celery - 5 stalks
Onion - 1 big one
Red bell pepper
Green bell pepper
Chicken stock - 4 cups
Rice - 2-1/2 cups
Crushed garlic - 2 tbsp
Black pepper - 1/2 tsp
Crushed red pepper - 1-1/2 tsp
Salt - 1/2 tsp
Cajun seasoning - 1 tbsp
Worcestershire sauce - 2 tsp
File powder - 1 tbsp
Bay leaves - 3

Dice onions, celery and bell peppers. Set aside.
Drizzle olive in a dutch oven or large stock pot. Warm on medium heat.
Cut chicken into cubes. Saute in olive oil.
Cut sausage into 1/8 inch disks. Or you can dice it if you wish. Add to chicken and cook for 5 minutes.
Add vegetables and garlic. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add spices and seasonings and stir for 1 minute.
Add crushed tomatoes, chicken stock, and worcestershire sauce. Bring to a boil.
Stir in rice.
Add bay leaves.
Drop heat to low. Cover. Simmer for 40 minutes.
Remove bay leaves and stir before serving.

My Letter to Claire McCaskill

2011-12-15T10:20:00.037-06:00

Claire McCaskill is the Senator from Missouri. I wish I could say that she represents me, but that wouldn't be true. I'm sure a lot of her constituents would say the same.

She has been duplicitous in her portrayal of her voting record. She has claimed to be focused on fiscal responsibility, but has voted for every spending measure possible, including Obamacare, TARP and the billion dollar stimulus package.

Not only didn't she claim taxes on her private jet, and charged the government for its use. She claimed she didn't know about those taxes.
She served as Missouri State Auditor. She knew about the tax. Even as she railed against a Bush era tax credit for private jets, she did stated that she take the credit. Her hypocrisy knows no bounds, it seems.

In a stunning display of disconnect, she recently said that one way to reduce the deficit was to eliminate diabetes.

What?

So... What's Wrong With Claire McCaskill?
As I see it, what's wrong with Claire can be in a post from her Twitter account.

McCaskill says one thing, but does another.
She says she listens, but if you look on Twitter, she follows no one and responds to very few mentions. If she listens to Missourians, she wouldn't have voted for Obamacare. She is argumentative at the few town hall meetings she goes to.
"Barack Obama has no better friend than Claire McCaskill."
This is an oft-quoted remark from Joe Biden from the 2008 campaign. Her voting record proves it, although she recently said she "regularly" votes against her party's line.

She doesn't tell the truth. And she's hypocritical.
She has recently tried to distance herself from the President, by refusing to appear with him at a St. Louis fundraiser, citing schedule conflicts. She arrived in St. Louis just a few hours later. She also called out the Senate Majority Leader, Harry Reid, because she feels she needs to move to the middle in order to be elected for a second term.

She is untruthful. And she lies to cover her ass when she's caught.
Look... she owns a jet. She didn't pay taxes on it. Purposefully. She claims to be a moderate, but nothing is further from the truth. She says she wants the country to be fiscally responsible, but she spends and spends and spends.

She doesn't answer questions. And when she does, she doesn't.
When someone asks her a question, no matter what, McCaskill's answer comes right from the party playbook. It's all about spin. (And she's not really very good at it.)

All of this led me to drop her a quick note. If you live in Missouri, I hope you'll do the same. Here's what I wrote:

Ms. McCaskill,

It's time for you to start telling the truth. You've been lying to your constituents for five years.

Telling us that you believe in fiscal responsibility while voting in favor of every spending measure that hits the Senate floor is not politics.

It's a lie.

I'll let you in on some history. When you ran for governor, I called your office to get some insight into what your policies would be. I was on the fence. The person that answered was trite, condescending and argumentative. He actually yelled at me at one point.

That secured my vote. Your actions since you've been a Senator have also secured my vote, for whomever opposes you.

And quit trying to position yourself as a moderate. You can't run to the middle at this stage in the election cycle and expect people not to remember what you've done.

If you do happen to win another term, and for the remainder of your current term, I hope that you would tell the truth about who you are and how you've voted.

You owe that to the people of Missouri.

Joel Weaver
Kansas City, MO

*******

Claire McCaskill sent me a reply. Or did she?

Dear Mr. Weaver,
Thank you for contacting me regarding the federal budget. I appreciate hearing from you and welcome the opportunity to respond.
Like you, I am frustrated that efforts to fix our nation's finances have been stalled. We need to find a compromise before credit rating agencies downgrade our debt and before the interest payments on the debt begin to exceed national priorities, like repairing our nation's roads and providing affordable education.

As you may know, the Budget Control Act, signed into law on August 1, 2011, created the "Joint Select Committee on Deficit Reduction," a bipartisan, bicameral twelve person committee in Congress with the sole mission of putting forth a proposal to bring down the nation's deficit and debt. On November 21, 2011, the committee announced that it failed to come to an agreement and meet this deadline.

In accordance with the Budget Control Act, the federal budget will now be subject to across-the-board, automatic cuts starting in January, 2013, and caps on spending until 2021, constituting a $1.2 trillion reduction in spending. The cuts will be split evenly between defense and non-defense programs. However, Social Security, Medicaid, veteran's benefits, and a few other programs will be exempt from the automatic cuts.

Many budget experts and economists believe that these automatic cuts would be problematic for our economy, national defense, and many programs like education and transportation on which middle class Americans rely. The automatic cuts were included because they were intended to force the Joint Committee, and subsequently Congress, to come to an agreement rather than risk having the automatic cuts go into effect. I remain deeply disappointed that the Joint Committee failed to compromise and come to a responsible, bipartisan agreement to address our nation's debt. Congress has become too polarized, with those on the far right and the far left unwilling to compromise at all.

I believe we need a bipartisan compromise that will address our nation's long term debt and prevent across the board cuts. A compromise will require Democrats and Republicans to accept some recommendations of the other side. Balance will go a long way towards achieving our goals.

Such an approach to reducing the deficit could include cuts in federal spending, but also must raise revenue, such as by simplifying and cleaning out the tax code. We should also eliminate duplication and fraud from federal programs and introduce expanded means testing into more programs so taxpayers are not paying for such things as Warren Buffet's prescription drugs. With these and other commonsense measures, we would be able to make smart, targeted reforms to Defense programs so that we do not undermine our national security. We would also be able protect Social Security, Medicare, and other important programs from severe and regressive cuts that unfairly target the poor and seniors and that could slow down our economy.

What is clear is that the American people lose when Washington politics gets in the way. We have a difficult road ahead, and we need real, bipartisan compromise to solve our nation's complex fiscal problems. I will continue to work with my Senate colleagues on both sides of the aisle to seek such compromise that will bring our nation's budget to balance.

Again, thank you for contacting me. Please do not hesitate to contact me in the future if I can be of further assistance to you on this or any other issue.

Sincerely,

Claire McCaskill
United States Senator

Two Birds, One Stone

2011-12-05T14:46:00.004-06:00

or...

How to Save the Post Office and Get Back at Those Companies That Send Junk Mail

Citibank wastes trees and money with badvertising.

The United States Postal Service is in a hard way right now. Losing money hand over fist. Millions in benefits owed to pensioners. Increased competition from FedEx, UPS, DHL. Letter writing is dying. Catalogs have moved to the Internet because more people shop electronically. And, the worst indicator that the USPS is in trouble, Claire McCaskill has took up the charge, encouraging people to send cash through the mail.

I've got a much better idea, and it will stick it to the credit card companies who barrage you with unwanted solicitation.

Instead of throwing that junk mail away... open it. Look for the business reply envelope. (Or "BRE" if you're in the industry.) Set it aside.

Find the piece of paper with the legalese on it... the rates you're getting now, the rates you'll be getting charged next year, under what conditions you'll be charged more, etc.

Write a message on it in big magic marker. Something sweet... maybe a note for the Holidays.

A seasonal message, peppered with a political statement.

Then stuff that sumbitch in the BRE, lick the envelope and send it back to those assholes.

Now ask yourself:

The Post Office charges postage plus 72 cents per piece of business reply mail.

Not just yes, but HELL YES!

Can one person make a difference?
I get 5 pieces of junk mail per week with BREs in them. That's 520 unwanted pieces of mail. At $1.17 or so, that's roughly $304.20 I've helped the Post Office generate while sticking it to the man.

Can we turn this into a movement?
If every household in the country did this, we'd have the USPS back in the black within a year, to the tune of $40,154,400,000. (That's $40.15 billion and change, folks.) Figuring five a week is average, 132 million households per the 2010 Census. That comes out to be a big chunk of change the Banks of America, Chase, Capital One, Discover and Wells Fargo will be forking out.

There may be some collateral damage. Sorry magazines, cell phone companies and Dish Network, but you're assholes, too. This quit being efficient two decades ago. Find a new way to advertise.

I don't usually make new years resolutions, but I'm doing this in 2012. Who's with me?

A Man's Man's Advice to His Wife

2011-11-23T14:02:00.002-06:00

Surviving Black Friday

I can’t fathom why anyone would subject themselves to shopping on Black Friday, but they do. Personally, I don’t see myself braving the crowds to save $2 on the next big thing.

Not trying to be sexist here, but this is almost purely an affectation for women. Men hate crowds (unless it’s a sporting event) and we hate to shop (unless it’s for cars, tools or grills.)

I have some experiences in life that can help you prepare and make your Black Friday more fun and more successful. For one thing, I picked up some survival skills when I was lost in the woods for almost two hours. As someone who enjoyed sports back in the day, I know to stretch and stuff. And I planned to be an Eagle Scout, until I realized I’d have to make my way through Webelos before becoming a boy scout, which was a deal breaker.

Plus, as a guy, I just have an overwhelming need to solve problems.

So here's my advice to the ladies venturing out on Black Friday.

Carbo load the night before.

Shouldn’t be a problem, considering the day was Thanksgiving and most people ingest the equivalent of a bushel of wheat in carbohydrates. But, make sure to eat a good breakfast. Get some protein, so you won't get hungry.

Pack a survival kit.

Yeah, I said it. Pack one. Include some snacks, drinks, an extra jacket and some band-aids, just in case it turns ugly.

Fill up the night before… with gas.

Saves time. Who knows what the lines will be like. And under NO circumstances should you go inside a convenience store or gas station for anything. If you didn’t pack it, you don’t need it.

Buddy up.

Shopping with someone can keep you motivated and it’s always good to have support. But choose wisely. Leave you know who at home. You won’t be able to concentrate when they start whining. You’ll lose time when they wander off. They’ll want to get something to eat two or three times. You won’t want to deal with them asking why you’re buying that. In short, don't take your husband.

Be prepared for a fight.

You’d do anything for your family, right? Remember, what happens at Target, stays at Target. If it’s not worth fighting dirty for, it’s not worth buying.

Travel light.

Nothing bulky. Nothing heavy. Leave the big purse at home. You’re not laying siege. You’re hitting quick and moving on. LikeBritish Special Forces but with better dental hygiene.

Hydrate.

Take a couple of bottles of water with you. And remember the runner’s rule: If you’re thirsty, you’ve waited too long.

Caffeinate.

Early and often. You might even consider picking up a 5 Hour Energy and a couple of Starbuck’s Double Shots. Actually stopping by a coffee shop could cost you valuable minutes and mean the difference between getting your daughter an Ipad and getting her new clothes.

Stop for a light lunch.

Quick energy… something from the four basic food groups. Avoid anything that involves using a spoon, OK? Soup is slow. Sammiches are for winners.

Wear comfortable shoes.

Don’t be a hero and wear flats. Or sandals. You’re going to be traveling far and fast. Tennis shoes, or lightweight hunting boots, even. For God’s sake, get something with some support… arch AND ankle.

Dress for all conditions.

Layering is the key. Most likely, it'll be cold in the morning, but warmer in the afternoon. As you're working, you may start to feel warm. That's not good. Wear light layers that can be shed quickly. Avoid a heavy jackey, if possible. The last thing you need is a coat taking up valuable rolling real estate.

Use social check-ins.

Unless you don’t LIKE saving money or knowing that they're serving snacks somewhere in the store.

Don't take down the first thing that comes along.

Stopping off to find clothes in junior miss, no matter how good the deal, is a rookie mistake. That sweater will be there in an hour. The new Tranformer won’t. Hit toys and electronics first.

Cash is for amateurs.

It does slow down the process. If you lose your wallet, it’s a hassle, but credit cards can be replaced. Cash can’t. Flash a lot of cash, and you just became a target. Make sure to have some coin on-hand for parking meters and bell ringers, though. That’s pro preparation right there.

Let your husband go play poker when you get home.

That’ll do it. Happy shopping. I’m out.

Open Letter to My Dad

2011-11-13T08:40:00.001-06:00

Dear Dad,
It's been a long time. I'm not saying that to be an asshole or anything, but it's been 11 years since I got that phone call at 6:30 in the morning on November 12, 2001.

We knew it was November 11 when you left, because there's no way you made it to midnight that day. You worked around the farm most of the day, and I know for you, that day was probably about as perfect as you could get. In a place that you loved, doing the things that you loved, working around the farm, cooking up some venison, having a few

and some of your favorite deer camp "horse dervies" which no one in their right mind would eat

By the way, that pronunciation died with you. But I'm bringing it back. Along with the camel joke.

For the first time since you left, November 11 was Veteran's Day for me. I didn't think much about it being your last day. And I know you wouldn't want it any other way. "Ten years is a long time to grieve," you'd say.

Like almost every other thing you said, you'd probably be right.

But the thing is, there's not a day goes by that I don't think about you. Everyone misses you and still talks about you like you're still here, even eleven years later. That's strong, Dad.

Dad with his little buddy, Levi, sporting the do-rags.

I'll let you know that I finally visited you. Twice now. The first time, I lasted about 15 seconds. But it broke the ice. This past Memorial Day, I went with Toby, his buddy, Mike and Ashley and we drank a beer with you. For you, I guess is the more appropriate term.

I still haven't been down to the farm. I may never go, even though I know it is a special place you chose because you wanted to retire there someday. Someday just came way too fast.

I know what you'd say about that, too, Dad: "I wanted this to be a place where you boys could go and take your families. You should go."

But I really only know it as the place where you died and would only know it without you. Toby and Duke know the place with you there. They got to see how you looked at it and talked about it.

I know that's where your spirit is. Danny has said he's seen you there. I hope he's right. But he knows the place with you there, too. I think that's why I've been reluctant to go: I'm afraid I won't see you there. It would just be the place where your journey ended and I don't want that. Hopefully someday, I'll be able to make that trip and walk your land with you.

I miss the way you'd laugh. The way you'd grin, with the glint in your eyes because you knew something funny was coming. There was that snort thing you'd do. Then three or four chortles that could be mistaken for a coughing fit. Now I'm thinking that watching you laugh is the reason I try to make people laugh.

I think what I miss most about you is how damn philosophical you were. I'm not really sure that others know that about you. But there was just so much I learned about how to be a man shooting pool with you. You taught me more about life playing pool and drinking a few beers than all of my professors put together. You were my greatest teacher. I want you to know that.

I guess I've come to the reason for this: I'm working through some things that I need to change about myself. I don't have your patience, and I sorely wish I knew your secret. I don't have your wisdom, even though I'm as old now as you were when I graduated high school. I'm still not half the man you were, but I'm trying, Dad. I'm trying.

So for me, November 11 was Veteran's Day. I'm fairly certain you'd be comfortable with that. But your birthday's coming up next weekend. That's always been harder for me. I don't think November 19 will just be Saturday.

Love you,
Number one son (I even remember the Charlie Chan reference)
Joel

Breaking up

2011-10-15T07:00:00.000-05:00

Seriously, Tom. You've gotta quit showing up here.

You keep sending me those "I miss you" emails. And now you keep showing up on my wall. Like every other day. You're embarassing me in front of my friends. You're better than that.

Plus, I heard you were with Justin now? What's up with that? You should be concentrating on that relationship, not trying to talk to me.

You keep asking me to come back. You said you've changed, but it's too little, too late. You just couldn't give me what I need.

If it's any comfort, I never cheated. We were through when I found Mark. I'm with Mark now. Sure he's a little pretentious and sometimes can be a little heavy handed, but he's got goals. Oh, you heard that he picks what he thinks I should read? Yeah, he does that, but I think he'll stop. I can change him.

No, Tom. You're great. I think you're great. You'll find someone else. I just know it. You're laid back and you have your bands and all. And that's great! You should do what makes you happy. I just need something else.

I know you said you want to be friends, but I think we need to make a clean break. I'm not trying to be mean, but if you ever liked me, you need to let me go. We had some good times, and I want to keep those memories. but I don't want to see you here. Please don't come here any more. It's too painful.

I just don't want to lead you on. I hope you don't read anything into this, but I just need my space.

Cardinals back their way in to the playoffs? Go ^%*&# yourself

2011-09-29T06:49:00.001-05:00

I'm seeing and hearing about the Cardinals backing their way into the playoffs. And I'm calling bullshit. They played their asses off, hurt, missing key components and won the sumbitch. So if you're a Braves fan, you can whine about how they choked. (And you're right. BIG TIME chokers, they are.) But if you're a Cardinals fan, here's what I think you need to tell people when they say the Cardinals backed their way in to the playoffs.

1. They won 15 out of their last 20.
That's .750 ball. Talk about peaking at the right time. Go crazy, folks. You think anyone is looking forward to playing the Redbirds? Even the Phillies, the team with the best record in the National League. The best thing the Phillies could've done for themselves was sit their starters for the series in Atlanta. Especially after the Cardinals took three out of four in Philadelphia. But this is the big leagues and you play to win every game.

2. Yadi freaking Molina.
That guy is All World. Hitting like he did in September. Yadi hit .400 in the last 10 games. He had some clutch hits, too. And handling a taped together pitching staff while Dave Duncan was gone. Everyone may be wondering where Albert Pujols will be next year, but Yadi is an incredible ball player and will probably win another Gold Glove this year. If I had a vote, he'd have mine for team MVP.

3. TLR
Love or hate Tony LaRussa, and usually the haters will say he out-manages himself (including me, but I'm no hater) but he only stepped on his own foot once during this run when he left Motte in too long and they blew a huge lead to the Mets. And he probably was responsible for four wins in September. Theriot pinch-hitting for Shumacher... a Pujol-Holliday double steal... both were game-changers.

4. Cardinal Nation
I'm not acquainted with any Cardinals fans who didn't think it could be done. Never lost hope. The Atlanta Braves couldn't even sell out the last series of the year with the playoffs on the line. If the Cardinals are trying to play in to the playoffs, the area around Busch Stadium would be pandemonium. They'd wheel in Jumbotrons and shit. Hotdog and peanut vendors would make more money outside the stadium. And beer... forget about it.

Thoughts About 9/11 and the 10th Anniversary

2011-09-11T08:57:00.001-05:00

Once again, I'm up before the boys and wife and reflecting on some things. There's no surpises here about what I'm think about.

It's September 11; ten years later.

I go back and forth when I think about that day, because I want it to be just another day on the calendar. But I know it won't for quite some time. I think it will fade little by little over time, much the same way that December 7 has. With each generation, that day becomes just an afterthought. Except for the people who were there.

Where were you on 9/11?
A question I'll never ask, because chances are 99% of the stories are exactly like mine. I can tell you where I was when the planes went into the tower, just like anyone over the age of 20. I was driving to work and listening to Johnny Dare's Show on 98.9 The Rock in Kansas City. I got to work and gathered in the kitchen with my co-workers and we watched as the towers fell.

My 9/11 story, like most people in the country, is common, mundane and boring. Like most people, I can only tell you what it looked like from pictures and video.

The people who were there can tell you how it felt. What it smelled like. What it's like to be covered in ashes and concrete dust. What it sounded like as the planes hit or the towers fell. Or about the screams of the survivors and victims. What it looked like to see the first responders as they rushed in to help.

To be honest, unless you were there, I don't want to know about your 9/11 experience unless you were in Manhattan, Pennsylvania or Washington D.C. Because your experience is exactly like mine. You were driving to work. You were making breakfast. You woke up hung over from a Monday Night Football bender and it was on the news.

The thing is, I know only one guy who has any direct experience in 9/11. My buddy Scott was in the Army at the time and was either stationed in or near D.C. and was sent in that day to help with recovery and protection. I can't remember, as he's only talked about it when we'd been drinking, so the details are fuzzy. He's only spoken of it one time, but I know he was at the Pentagon working on recovery because his unit was there when Donald Rumsfeld came to help for a while. I know this affected Scott greatly because he talked about it very reluctantly, and if you know Scott, he's never one to speak reluctantly on any subject.

Crap...
Conspiracy theories.
This isn't the Lincoln assassination, where there was a conspiracy by definition. It also isn't the Kennedy assassination, and Oliver Stone probably won't doing a movie about it. Seriously, if you think that the U.S. was behind it or that Israel was behind it, you've got something seriously wrong. I also don't want to hear shit about President Bush not responding quickly enough as he sat in Florida reading to a group of six-year-olds. Here's why: They still didn't know exactly what was going on and moving the President at the time of attack could have put him in danger, dillhole. So shut up about it, don't mention it to me again and I won't mention how scared you were that time you thought you had VD. You know who you are.

We brought it on ourselves.
I'm going to punch someone in the neck. Hear me, Jeremiah Wright? They chose to attack us for our religious beliefs, our economic beliefs, our way of life. Whatever the reason, they attacked us because they hate us. I'll throw one thing out that may surprise you: They didn't do it because they're Muslim. They did it because they're assholes.

It was an act of war.
No, it wasn't an act of war. It was an act of terrorism. War is declared. By a known enemy. Militaries are involved. There are rules in war. Which to me is about as ludicrous a statement as I've ever heard. (Like rules in a knife fight, a la Butch and Sundance.)

This wasn't an act of war. It was an act of terrorism designed to strike fear into the U.S. by killing as many people as they could as quickly as possible. Do you think if you could talk to Bin Laden, he would have been disappointed that only 2,600 people were killed? Especially given the fact that typically more that 14,000 people work in the World Trade Center. So I would say 9/11 was a failure, given that he didn't get close to even 25% kill rate, the Pentagon was spared, only 55 military personnel were killed and Flight 93 never reached its destination.

I'll also say he got better than he deserved, since the U.S. consulted an imam to conduct his burial and his remains were treated with respect, which is more than can be said for how our servicemen killed in action are treated.

Questions...
Why were first responders left out of 10 year ceremonies?
This is perhaps the biggest travesty of the whole 9/11 Memorial Day. Mayor Bloomberg said there was simply no room for them at the ceremonies. What complete and utter bullshit. There was room for them 10 years ago. He's also not having any clergy. Honestly, I'm not too concerned with that, because if you have a Protestant and/or a Catholic clergy there, the friggin ACLU will sue to have a Muslim cleric there.

By the way, if you ever tell me those people aren't heroes and they were just doing their jobs, I'll bitch slap you. Some people do hero's work, and some people are copywriters.

Why are people are trying to softening the anti-Islamic feeling?
This is perhaps hypocritical on my part, so you don't have to tell me that, but I can do without the declaration of a Day of Service. What the hell? That's kind of insulting to the people who were there. So now we're supposed to go on this bullshit website and tell what we're doing for the country on the day. "I'm cleaning up a beach." You can clean up a beach any day. Why today? March is free and clear of Federal holidays. August is also. Seriously. If this thing catches hold, which is doubtful, its goal is for future generations to recognize it and not the attacks. By the way, Obama went out of his way during Ramadan this year to mention the number of Muslims who died. It was around 30. He never mentions the number of Catholics killed when he speaks to the Knights of Columbus. Mayor Bloomberg did also by offering his outspoken support of the building of the "Islamic Cultural Center" when he knew some would take offense.

Did the terrorists succeed?
I think maybe they did. They stopped capitalism for a few days. It cost the U.S. billions of dollars in clean up, in insurance, and in building a new WTC. They also made us a little afraid, at least for a while, but it still continues to this day. Think about how long commercial airlines didn't fly. Think about how your life has been disrupted in the last 10 years. Think about what we've lost in personal freedom and a certain amount of innocence. Think about it the next time you're getting felt up by a stranger just because you want to board a plane.

What is New York thinking?
It's been 10 years. The building is not yet complete. Why did it take eight years to get the area cleaned up? Why are they allowing an Islamic cultural center to be built when there a mosque three blocks away? Why is a church that was on the national historical registry not allowed to be re-built? There is too much politicking and worries about political correctness. This should have been done for the fifth anniversary, for Pete's sake. The Empire State Building took less than 15 months to build. And it wasn't really a matter of national pride. Building permits, zoning, union labor contracts... seriously? Sheesh what a bunch of turds. I drove through Greensburg, KS, which was absolutely destroyed after an EF-5 tornado. Two years later, downtown had been replaced. No one had even heard of Greensburg, KS till then. You can't tell me it isn't a source of national and New York City's pride to have WTC built on the same site.

On the other hand...
I guess this post is for me and working through my own conflicting thoughts about 9/11 and the affects. I'm probably not the only one who has conflicted thoughts.

On one hand, it's not about Islam, and yet, I'm against the building of the mosque.

On one hand, I say the terrorists didn't succeed because it brought us together and then I turn around and say they've disrupted our lives considerably.

On one hand, I'm disappointed that TV and radio stations did montages and special stories on Friday, September 9 (for ratings) and yet I've considered putting some of those images in this blog so people will read it. And I also thought it needs some pictures just to break up the gray of the text in this very long post.

On one hand, I want September 11 to be just another day. I want it to be my cousin Glen's daughter's birthday. She should never have to answer questions when she's asked for ID. "Oh... wow... you were born on September 11th? Doesn't that suck?"

On one hand I want to forget, and on the other, I'll always remember.

Oh, the hyposcrisy...

Owning a bar rules

2011-08-30T08:52:00.000-05:00

Occasionally I have a dream that I still own the bar. For those of you that don't know, I owned a bar.

The dream is always the same. There's a ton of people waiting and I have to cook for them as soon as I walk in because the kitchen guy is late. I'll have to beg the bartender to stay past her shift.

Delivery drivers start coming through the back door to fill beer orders. Sales reps are waiting at the front to take orders for the weekend. The weasel bastard landlord is there to talk about the bar he opened next door.

Everyone orders at the same time. How is that even possible? And they all want something different. There's a plumbing problem (Again?) in the men's room.

Hell of a start for a Thursday, I think.

Finally, the cook shows and I pass the spatula. He's had car trouble and his phone is turned off. I like him, though, and he's a good worker. Just perpetually 20 minutes late. Works is ass off for me when he gets there, though.

I relieve the bartender set the room for the band. (Bands were there on Saturday. It must be Saturday. OK... hell of a start for a Saturday.) The bartender is supposed to do it but never does.

The waitress shows up drunk from being at the pool all day. She says she didn't want to let me down by calling in for a replacement. Now it's too late to have another waitress come in. It's OK, I say. I'll handle it.

The band calls and can't find the place. They're going to be late. The doorman is arrives. On time. Problem is that he was scheduled last night.

It's gonna be a long night...

I wake up really tense. I'm actually sweating. It feels like I didn't sleep at all. My teeth hurt from grinding them and I have acid reflux. My pulse is racing and my hernia is acting up. I think I'm developing psoriasis.

Sure do miss that place.

Dealing with Heat and Humidity in the Old West

2011-08-24T09:04:00.002-05:00

SCENE: A saloon in the Old West. The bartender wipes down a glass, as they constantly did in the Old West. In the background, several people of easily identifiable socioeconomic status play poker. Two ornery looking desperadoes enter.

BARTENDER: Hello, Humidity. How goes it, Heat? Haven't seen you guys in a while.

HUMIDITY: How 'bout a bottle? (Tosses some sort of coin indiscriminately on the bar, as desperadoes were known to do. Bottle service was apparently much cheaper in the Old West.)

HEAT: And sumpthin to eat. (Nothing specific, just whatever they can rustle up. Probably steak and beans. Potatoes if they were able to get them, but trade routes were unreliable back in the day.)

BARTENDER: Boys, the people round here are tired of ya. Best you boys be movin' on.

HUMIDITY: We don't have to take that talk from a bartender. (People in the service industry were not respected as toughs in the Old West.)

HEAT: You lookin' to get thumped?

BARTENDER: Boys, you know we look forward to seeing you all winter. But you boys have outstayed your welcome. Best you head south now. They likely would like to see ya.

HEAT: Let me thump him, Joe! (There's always at least one desperado in the Old West named Joe.)

HUMIDITY (OR APPARENTLY, JOE): I think we may just stay a while. And we'll be takin' that bottle, our dinner and whatever else we want while we're here!

Bartender reaches for a sawed off shotgun under the bar, but is beaten to the draw by "Joe" who puts an inordinately large knife under the bartender's throat. (Every desperado in the Old West carried an inordinately large knife.)

HEAT: Whatcha think 'bout that, Old Man? Joe's gonna make ya bleed now.

SOUND: Multiple firearms being cocked. Always identifiable is one pump action shotgun, which didn't exist in the Old West.

STORE OWNER: I don't think so. (Store owner is easily identifiable by his apron.)

HUMIDITY: You don't got the guts. (The emerging middle class of the Old West were widely known to be less than brave, and only stood up for themselves as part of a group.)

FARMER: Nah. Mebbe he ain't. But WE do. We don't like your kind stayin so long. You best be hittin the trail where they don't mind you. (After all, have you ever heard of a "cold and dusty trail?")

PIANO PLAYER: That's right. Y'all git. (Piano players were men of few words in the Old West, but eventually had one line.)

Even the dance hall girl/lady of the night (difficult to tell the difference in the Old West) has pulled a Derringer from her garter. (OK... now we know her status.)

HUMIDITY: A'ight. (People think "A'ight" is modern. But it originates in the Old West. Google it.) We'll leave. But we'll be back.

HEAT: Yeah, we'll be back.

BARTENDER: We'll be lookin' forward to that, Heat. We ain't sayin' you ain't welcome, we're just gettin a little tired of ya. We'll be seein' ya again. You'll be welcome after a spell.

The desperadoes walk out. The people of easily identifiable socioeconomic status uncock their weapons and return to their poker game. The bartender smiles and nods at the piano player, who starts playing.

And... SCENE.

Help Wanted: Problem Solver. Apply at KCPL.

2011-08-19T15:34:00.001-05:00

There's a classic scene in Pulp Fiction where Vincent and Julius have gotten themselves into a situation and Marcellus sends them Mr. Wolf, in the person of Harvey Keitel.

KCPL needs the wolf. People in Kansas City lose power when the wind blows 40 mph. Not sure why, but it seems like we lose power a lot more often than when I lived in Wichita.

KCPL customer service sucks.
As often as they have to field calls from people who have questions, you'd think their customer service people would be more professional. If you want information, estimated time of reconnection or an explanation of the damage, it's best to put the cell phone away.

Here's what you get from a conversation with a KCPL customer service rep:

repetition
rudeness
hot air
ambiguity
bullshit
details about their prioritization policy
condescending customer service people who don't know shit about shit

Talking to KCPL customer service is kinda like working out.
Elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, that feeling that I'd really like to put a bullet in my head rather than do this again, exhaustion when I'm done... without all the health benefits.

Fear not, loyal customers... KCPL is on it with what you need.
KCPL is distributing dry ice in JoCo, Prairie Village, Sedalia, St. Joe and Maryville so the stuff in your fridge won't rot.

Just NOT in Kansas City, MO! You know... where most of the customers who lost power live. That would make entirely too much sense and might cost a little extra. And they're starting at 3:00, so all you juvenile delinquents who want to make dry ice bombs can get the stuff before normal people get off work. Morons.

Nice job, KCPL.
Good planning. Way to do exactly what a well-run company that gives a shit wouldn't do. KCPL is definitely a company that benefits from being a monopoly.

That's my two cents worth, KCPL morons. Now, get back to work. At last count, you've got 52,000 more people to piss off.

Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

2011-08-16T09:59:00.000-05:00

Like a lot of people, we're on the "Don't Call List." But there is one company calling us every three or four days promising to lower our credit card rates. We don't have credit cards.

The call comes in with a recorded message. "Rachel" (if indeed that is her real name) informs us that they can lower our rate if only we will press 1 to talk to a representative.

After several times just hanging up on this call from 513-417-0498, I decided to press 1 to ask them not to call. When I asked the rep to remove the number from the list. He said, "He wants the number removed from the list?" in the form of a question.

Then he hung up.

The next time, I asked the name of the company... she immediately hung up. My Spidey senses told me I may be dealing with a scammy company. I filed a complaint with the FCC.

The next time they called, I pressed one and played along for a little bit, then asked the name of the company. The rep said, "Why do you need to know that? We're gonna lower your rate. Give me your credit card numbers."

I hung up and filed another FCC complaint. At the end of the form, after name and phone number, there was a box that said "Execute?"

You may think it extreme, but I started looking for the "Hell YES" box. Shit, I've told them three times not to call. Eventually, I just marked it and hit SEND. No sense being obstinate.

18 Reasons to Carry Nunchucks in Kansas City

2011-07-12T10:36:00.004-05:00

I saw a guy walking in Westport about 5:30 in the afternoon. (For those of you unfamiliar with Kansas City, Westport is a bar district in the midtown area.) He was on the sidewalk. On his back, a standard size back pack. He was not impeding traffic.

All in all, it seemed like a pretty unremarkable sight for a Thursday pre-happy-hour. Except for one thing.

He was working a set of nunchucks as he walked.

Wait... is it a set of nunchucks? Or a pair? Or is it just nunchucks... being as if there were not two, you would just have a stick.

I didn't think much of it at the time, but now, I'm kind of wondering what possesses a dude in his early 20s to carry nunchucks, as there were no reports of ninja assassins in the area that day. After giving it some thought, I've come up with some logical reasons why a guy would be carrying nunchucks in Westport.

Samurai sword was in the shop.
Much easier to conceal than a quarterstaff.
It relieves aches associated with carpal tunnel syndrome. Doctors don't know why, and he's in the study.
Arrows spill out of the quiver any time he bends down to pick up a copy of The Pitch.
Throwing stars constantly get mixed up with pocket change.
Feels nunchucks will be the next big thing in men's fashion accessories, replacing the big, clunky watch.
Let the license plates on his catapult expire and didn't want another ticket.
Just recently got over bronchitis, rendering his blow gun useless.
Liberals haven't put nunchucks on the weapons hit list. Yet.
With a spear gun, it's all over too quickly.
Consistent sling shot ammo is difficult to come by in town.
Working on hand-eye-don't-hit-yourself-in-the-nuts coordination.
America's Pub has 2-4-1 specials on Thursday, 3-4-1 if you have nunchucks
Mace was rusty, and no one likes a rusty mace.
Brass knuckles clashed with what he was wearing.
Quarter draw night at Harpo's gets busy and the frat guys get pushy.
Crossbow just seemed like overkill. For a Thursday, anyway.
Chicks dig a guy who can handle his nunchucks.

Observations from a poker road trip

2011-06-17T16:54:00.000-05:00

I woke up at 4:15 last Sunday morning and drove 225 miles, played poker for 8 hours and drove right back. Some would say that points to addiction, but I prefer to think of it as pursuing a goal. I fell short, but the day wasn't a total loss. I learned a few things that day.

The commercials suck, but the product works.
I hate the 5 Hour Energy commercials. A lot. And if you know me, you know that I usually won't buy a product that uses badvertising. But I've become a big believer in the product.
I only slept about four hours before I left, and by the time I hit the Iowa state line, I was yawning. Hard. You know those yawns you get sometimes that can be described as violent? The kind that make your eyes water and your lungs hurt? Yeah... I had those.
I stopped and picked up a 5HE and it worked very well. I had this weird kind of warm sensation, but I was alert and the yawns stopped entirely. The one downfall though, was two hours later I had 5HE burps, which was far worse than any whiskey burp ever.

Dan Aykroyd still has the Blues brother.
I like blues and I was running through stations, because southern Iowa on a Sunday is no place for an anti-country music agnostic to be relying on the radio to help pass the miles. I had about given up and was ready to pop in my wife's new Adele CD when I heard a familiar voice. I'd found Dan Aykroyd's Sunday morning blues show and he does it in the character of Elwood Blues. He shouldn't. Elwood was a crappy harp player and a crappier singer. Pretty good dancer, though. Elwood is nothing without Jake. Come on, Dan. You're a big supporter of blues... have been for years. No one questions your blues cred. Why can't you just do the show as yourself?

It's always nice to see family.
My cousin, Eric lives nearby and also plays. We met at the casino and played for quite a while together, then had dinner. I haven't seen him in a dozen years and it was nice to catch up a little and find that we have more in common than DNA. He had a good run in the tournament, finishing in the money in 8th place.

I hate playing poker against women.
I feel like they always know when I'm lying... er, bluffing. But I can never tell when they are. I also feel bad when I knock one out. I don't have the same feeling of remorse if I knock out a dude.

Poker-playing football fans play stereotypically.
You can tell a lot about a poker player by the gear he wears. A Raiders fan sat to my left during the tournament. He exemplified every stereotype I've ever witnessed or heard about Raiders fans. When he was winning, he was a cocky, mouthy, condescending turd. When he got beat, he was a sullen, mouthy, disrespectful turd. It would not have surprised me if he would've started launching batteries at me after I beat him in a hand. And it took him entirely too long to get over getting beat.

Two chairs to my left was a Denver Broncos fan. Like his team, he was predictable. He'd use one play for a while then another, just like the Donkeys did. They were a passing team under Elway, then he retired and they were a running team. Sure the passing attack worked for a while, just like it did for this fella. He'd won a few pots, then he just started betting huge. Unfortunately, I could never find cards when he was in a hand. Like all Broncos fans, a little success went to his head, and he was still talking when he won two in a row much longer than he should have been.

Poker tournaments are now my second favorite place to people watch.
Airports are still Number 1, but a poker tourney leap-frogged little league baseball game AND bar on St. Patrick's Day as a great place to people watch. You see the pressure take hold and whatever the person is going through in real life comes through in how he plays. You can tell who is a good person by how he wins and loses hands and how he exits when he's eliminated. You can also tell which douchebags don't tip servers and who thinks it's always his turn to go at a four-way stop.

Addressing the Midlife Crisis

2011-06-02T12:09:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about becoming a grown up and I'm not handling it well. Growing older is inevitable to be certain, but it's time for me to get a grip on things.

The responsibilities of adulthood are the price
we pay for the beauty and joy of being a child.

That thought just stuck in my head yesterday. Sounds like a quote from Whitman or Frost, doesn't it? But it's not. It's mine. I'm thinking of having some t-shirts made. Or maybe one of those posters with a cool stock photo of a kid riding a bike or blowing the stuff from a dandelion.

Not to get all philosophical or anything, but I'm not where I thought I'd be at this point in my life. But dreams of playing in the big leagues for most has to remain that... a dream. Just like Doc Graham says in 'Field of Dreams.' Incidentally, my dreams of baseball glory were dashed when my high school coach cut me because he didn't know what to do with a guy who could handle pitchers, but couldn't really see to hit and could time his 40-yard-dash with a sundial.

I know that's a longshot, but I thought I'd be in New York or Chicago or LA writing commercials and print. Who knew that I'd finish school at the exact time that package goods advertising hit the skids and print started its decline. I always had the journalism degree to fall back on, but if you get fired from the big paper's advertising department, there's not much chance of writing for the news department.

Don't get me wrong. I've got a pretty good life. The suck factor is pretty minimal. I have an amazing wife and two great kids. I have a really cool, but pain in the ass dog. I have a job... and let's just leave it at that.

Lately, though, I've been trying to figure out where my dreams now lie. You can call it a mid-life crisis, but I don't think there's a Harley in my future. I keep asking for one, but Ashley says no way. (Meanie.)

I think it's because I'm missing the innocence of youth, the power of dreams and the thought that I could just pack everything I own into one carload and see what happens next. Maybe it's time to re-read 'On the Road' and Kerouac can set me straight once again. It's also been a while since I've read 'Catcher in the Rye,' which I used to do every June.

I miss being cool. Or at least what I thought cool was. Maybe I never knew what cool was, but at least I did cool things. I performed with an improv troupe. I went white-water rafting. I wrote poetry. I traveled through Scotland and Ireland for three weeks with no plans or reservations. I hung out. I fished and hunted and drove country roads till I got lost. I watched storms. I met people. I felt like I was involved.

Will doing those things again make me happier? Probably. I think it will. Maybe not... I don't really know, but it could remind me of some dreams I once had. Or it could help me find new goals, and remind me that you can still be a cool guy, even if you're past your cool guy phase. I'd like to remind myself that you can approach life with zeal and optimism. Because that's the guy I was in my late 20s. I'd like to see that guy again. I want my boys to know that guy.

Kansas City Traffic Rants

2011-05-01T07:28:00.002-05:00

Kansas City traffic offers challenges to commuters on both
sides of state line. Rants help me deal, though.

I can deal with Kansas City traffic for the most part. Realistically, I understand there will be regular snarls driving into downtown. For the most part, everyone has the same goal: getting to work on time safely. They work together to make it happen.

It's the idiots not paying attention, assholes who think they don't need to adhere to the rules of the road and just plain douchebags who make my blood pressure start to rise.

Why I rant...

First, my Dad taught truck drivers how to drive. He was big on defensive driving, too. When he taught me to drive, in a 1974 Honda Civic standard transmission. At the moment I was shifting gears, he'd ask me what color the car was behind us. If I had to look, he'd tell me I wasn't paying attention.

Second, someone once told me that if I was pissed off about something and didn't get it off my chest, it would turn into an ulcer. Maybe it was in a movie, or a stand up comedian, but who am I to question? I'm strictly opposed to anything messing with my digestive tract, so I tend to let my feelings be known.

Third, because I know I can rant when I get home, it overcomes my desire to choke the shit of someone on the road, thus keeping Kansas City's thoroughfares free of additional slow-downs. Road rage isn't good for anyone.

So, Kansas City traffic rants are therapeutic for me. Hell. maybe people will read them and put out a little more effort on the road. Mostly, I hope you find them funny because I'm saying what you're thinking when some idiot douchebag moronic jackass jumps three lanes of traffic to hit an exit when he should have been in the exit lane a half mile back.

It happens.

My new blog project

2011-04-21T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm writing a new blog for my employer and I hope everyone will take a look.

The blog deals primarily with what it's like working for a Kansas City advertising agency, gives helpful hints on website design and creativity. I'm also going to take on some really hard-hitting subjects, like weather, sports and whether or not Kansas City BBQ is the best in the country. (Nope, but it's good!)

For more spur of the moment thoughts, check out the Powerhouse Facebook page and become a fan. Usually the posts I make there are about funny ads, crappy ads or badvertising, as I like to call it, social media, design and copywriting.

Also for those of you on Twitter, check out the Powerhouse Twitter page for articles and thoughts about the industry and Kansas City website design.

Feel free to post your thoughts about whatever the subject matter at hand is. And feel free to contact me about any questions you might have regarding the industry.

Breaking the Rules on St. Patrick's Day

2011-03-19T14:53:00.001-05:00

For those of you that know me, I'm sometimes a bit hard-headed, but if you know me at all, you understand why I'm an asshole on certain occasions. I hate hypocrisy, but on St. Patrick's Day, it was necessary for me to violate two personal principles: I paid a cover charge on St. Patrick's Day and I listened to a bagpiper who sucked balls.

My buddy Allen kidnapped me from work early on St. Patrick's Day and we started a little before our wives were ready to go. We went to O'Dowd's, which claims Irish pub status; it serves the right libations and the right food, but that's pretty much where it stops. Granted, I have a bias, having owned an Irish bar for six years and drank my way through Scotland and Ireland when I visited.

As we walked in, the band playing outside was butchering Dave Matthew's Band. At an Irish bar. On St. Patrick's Day. "I'm not really sure I want to be here." I told Ashley as we got in line to pay cover.

I normally don't mind paying cover. If the band is good.
And it's not St. Patrick's Day. And the bar doesn't overcharge.
And the service can keep up with the crowd. And the band is good.

That bears repeating.

They were charging cover. At an Irish bar. On St. Patrick's Day. As if making money hand over fish was simply not enough. I looked at Ash and said, "What a bunch of greedy assholes." (I didn't say "assholes," but sometimes my mother-in-law reads this and I can get away with "assholes." What I really said rhymed with "brother pluckers." Nuff said.)

To me, it is bad form that an Irish bar would charge a cover on their biggest day of the year, then upcharge for beer. But we found a place to stand next to a table. That's right. They'd removed the stools. And we proceeded to drink Harp and Guinness from plastic cups. I forgave them that; I did the same thing when I was in the business.

A really skinny guy that I recognized as either the lead singer of Black 47 or the guy who plays bagpipes outside City Market on the weekends was setting up on stage. The Black 47 guy probably has a gig on St. Patrick's Day, so I had my answer when he pulled out his pipes with the easily recognizable faux cowhide bag cover and started yammering away on the pipes.

We were 15 feet from a very large speaker and the sound in O'Dowd's sucks anyway, and I thought this joker was really going to mess it up. I was wrong

He really outdid himself. I'm fairly certain O'Dowd's hired them without benefit of an audition. He played bagpipes, an out of tune guitar and occasionally, tinwhistle very loudly. The lady played squeaky fiddle and worse keyboards.

I love bagpipe music, but Allen and I had to stop ourselves from griping about the level of play and concentrate more on the slow service and the steroid-riddled ape who kept bumping into his wife.

By the way, here's a great version of 'Cullen Anderson' by the Vancouver Police Department Pipe Corps. Ashley and I had it played as the wedding party walked into the reception. There are probably two dozen pipers playing a four minute song, and I identified two sour notes. The guy we listened to hit two dozen sour notes in one minute of 'The Clumsy Lover.'

Here's one more bagpipe tune for my Scottish buddies, Allen and Doug, who both wore kilts on St. Patrick's Day. It's also for anyone who reads this and who thinks bagpipes are Irish. (I'm looking at you, Bob Reeder.) Anyway, this is 'Scream' from Seven Nations, and if it's possible for a bagpiper to "shred," their bagpiper shreds.

Allen slipped the waitress a pre-order twenty and asked me to switch places with Sarah, sans-twenty but I was happy to do it. The waitress started coming by more often and the 'roid head was bumping backwards less often. He did slip his business card in my back pocket before he realized it was guy standing behind him, though.

Ash and I met three great people through Doug, Felicia, Sam and (I know I'm going to butcher the spelling) Jong, who claims to be able to eat the hottest anything you put in front of him. I can't wait for that outing.

We decided to cut out early as The Kelihans started to set up. It's not that we dislike the band, we just felt it would be rude to leave right as they start playing, especially since we know them. We just needed to relieve Grandma of babysitting duties.

On the plus side, I've got an in next time you need to rent office furniture or a mobile DJ. That's right... "Roid Boy.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Please Enjoy the Music

2011-03-17T06:58:00.000-05:00

For me, St. Paddy's Day is about the Irish culture in America, not necessarily about St. Patrick himself, although he was a great man. I've alread discussed some of the St. Patrick's Day contradictions, and I'll continue that a little bit here, while focusing on the music, which aside from beer is the best thing about the day.

My first exposure to Celtic rock came from Slade when I was in high school. The song was called "Run Run Away." Later on, Great Big Sea covered the song and the band from Newfoundland quickly became my favorite. I've seen them play in O'Dowd's in front of 200 people and I've seen concert footage of them playing in front of tens of thousands.

Great Big Sea is a great band; one that rocks when it wants to, makes the songs they cover their own and are still very capable of playing traditional Celtic music.

"Run Run Away" as I said, was first exposure to Celtic rock when I was a kid. Great Big Sea covered the Slade tune in the mid 90s. The video is hilarious.

The band has influences from traditional as well as rock, and is not afraid to take a rock standard and Celt it up a bit. Like everyone in the late 80s, the guys in Great Big Sea loved R.E.M. and even covered one of that band's most well-known tunes, "End of the World." I like the GBS version because it has a fiddle and a cittern, and it may be even faster than the original version, if that's possible.

"Lukey" is probably my favorite Great Big Sea tune. This is a traditional tune that many Irish musicians have done, but in this video, you can see just how big the band has become. They're performing this little traditional tune in front of 30,000 enthusiastic Canadians.

Great Big Sea, although not Irish, play great versions of Irish tunes and are a solid addition to your music library, whether you're just getting into Celtic music or have been listening to it for years.

More on Irish Music - The Waterboys

2011-03-16T11:57:00.000-05:00

The Waterboys came out of Galway in the early 90s and I started listening to them soon after. Some of their songs, honestly, aren't exactly my cup of Jameson, but here are a couple that really pay homage to the ballads of Irish songwriters.

"When Ye Go Away" is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard. Bob Reeder once told me he tried to learn how to play it but knew he wouldn't be able to make it through the song without losing it. It's haunting lyrics and lilting fiddle, along with steel guitar make this song one of my all time favorites.

"Fisherman's Blues" has been used in several films, including 'Good Will Hunting' and 'Waking Ned Devine.' It speaks to the gypsy soul, the thought of roads not traveled and what might have been.

The Contradictions of St. Patrick's Day

2011-03-13T11:27:00.000-05:00

We owned a bar for six years and I think I will always miss it most at this time of year. Usually, the week before St. Patrick's Day was like herding cats for me. Ordering corned beef and lamb. Coordinating beer and liquor deliveries. Picking up cabbage and potatoes. Scheduling kitchen and bar help. Baking soda bread. And a hundred other things that turned my hair gray or made it fall out.

I always worried that no one would show up and I'd be throwing out $125 worth of Irish stew.

It never happened. People always came. Everyone always had a good time. Even me. Mostly because after a week of stress and making preparations, I was happy to be drinking with the staff while we worked covered up with patrons eager to celebrate the country's Irish heritage

That's right... OUR country's Irish heritage. So much of what we know about St. Patrick's Day is purely an American affectation. The first parade celebrating St. Patrick took place in New York City. Why? Because the Irish immigrants wanted to celebrate their homeland and were not under the influence of the Church. They drank because they missed the families they left.

Ask an Irishman what corned beef and cabbage tastes like and he couldn't tell you. The poor Irish immigrants in the U.S. ate that because they could afford it. It's purely an American tradition. If you order an Irish car bomb in a pub, the bartender will give you the same look an air marshall would if you mentioned the term while boarding a flight.

Besides, St. Patrick's Day in Ireland is a deeply religious day that included fasting. And no drinking. Not something you would typically associate with the stereotypical St. Paddy's Day celebration. Dublin didn't even have a parade until very recently. It's odd to me that bagpipes, which is arguably a Scottish instrument, play the same tune while the pipers march. "Scotland the Brave" is the tune most often played.

Those first revelers wore green as a reminder of the green that dominates the Irish countryside, but St. Patrick's representative color was blue. Here are a couple of other things: St. Patrick is a saint in name only. He was never canonized by the Pope, but has been anointed by the love the Irish people hold for him, which in itself is odd because the Irish typically do not hold Englishmen in such high regard.

So in honor of that contradiction, I'd like to share what I miss most about the bar... the music. When I went to Ireland 10 years ago, my favorite town was Galway, a town known to produce the best in Irish music. So in honor of the contradictions surrounding this day, the first song I'll share is one written by an American who was as devastated by a local girl as I was with the people and landscape of Galway.

Open Letter to My Wife on Valentine's Day

2011-02-15T00:04:00.000-06:00

Hi honey. This is our tenth Valentines Day together. And people said we'd never make it past two. Truth be told, I had four in the pool. Don't blame me, though. Your Mom took three and my Mom took one and two, but she knows what it's like to live with me.

Seriously... can you believe it?

When you think about it, it doesn't seem that long. How can 10 years have gone by so quickly? On the other hand, when you think about it, it seems like an eternity. I think that's because things have changed in our relationship.

We don't stay up till all hours talking about weird stuff like movies and books and where we want to go and what we want to do and why "adhese" isn't really a word.

We barely make it till 10:00 these days.

Valentines Day started with cards and poems. Dinner at a nice restaurant, or at least someplace special to us. It ended with candles, in bed and falling asleep in each other's arms.

This year, it was Taco Bueno before rushing to Aidan's basketball practice. The creaking and moaning sounds coming from the bedroom are from me and my aching knee which makes noises all its own.

I don't want you to think I regret the changes in the relationship; I don't. It's a natural progression of breaking in and getting comfortable. Like your favorite flannel shirt.

By the way, that used to be MY favorite flannel shirt. Why the hell did you start sleeping in that, anyway?

Even your snoring is different. I used to find the soft purr coming from you so cute. It became comforting, and I couldn't sleep without you next to me, lulling me to sleep with the soft drone of your sleep sounds.

Now I keep the guest room bed made because it's more like the not-so-cute drone of my old shop vac. I know it's true when you say the shop vac would be drowned out by my own chainsaw-like buzz when I get into deep sleep.

One thing that hasn't changed is my love for you. You are more beautiful now than the day I met you. You've become your own person. You have brilliant, creative ideas. You still make me laugh. I still love to see you smile. Your touch is still electric to me.

Especially when it's your cold feet on my legs in the middle of the night. Seriously, woman. Wear some socks.

Love,

Joel

This Ad Makes Smoking Look Cool

2011-02-13T08:42:00.000-06:00

I record a couple of late night poker shows and watch them early when no one else is up. It's my "me time." One stands out as "badvertising," even as I'm fast-forwarding, so I've stopped to watch it a couple of times.

The Smoke Assist Electronic Smoking Device commercial runs on almost every break. It's not sold as a smoking cessation product, but something to help you legally look like you're smoking. It's branded outrightly as an oral fixation product. It even comes in a box that looks like a pack of cigarettes, the modern day gadget equivalent of the candy cigarettes of the 1960s.

The actors all say they're so amazed that it's just like smoking. But they all look very unnatural with the little vapor chimneys. They don't hold them right. They don't exhale right. The redhead woman looks like Gene Simmons breathing fire during the second KISS farewell tour.

One guy holds it like a remote control rather than a true cancer stick. "It's really smooth, too," he says. Of course it is! It's roughly equivalent to stepping outside on a cold day, holding your breath and breathing out real hard.

But there's something else wrong. They're all laughing and having a good time. There's something else amiss with the spot. They all just look... what's the word?

Happy.

Smokers don't look happy smoking, so there's no sense of realism in the spot. I have an opinion as to why. It's because these actors are getting paid to act like they're smoking. No self-respecting smoker, even one who needs the money, will take the gig. They are nothing if not loyal, to their vice. They can't (or won't) act like this simulates really smoking, because it really doesn't. I've never been a smoker and I know it's nothing like smoking.

The commercial assertains that you can legally puff away anywhere on the little battery powered steam maker. Bars, restaurants, even at work, the commercial says.

Real smokers, in a show or rebellious solidarity, brave the elements in order to get their nicotine fix. They are as true to their habit as a mail carrier is to carrying out appointed rounds; neither snow, nor rain, nor recently passed city ordinance...

As they're out there in defiance of their two common enemies, pink lung tissue and clean air in public establishments, they'll have the time to look through the windows at a cloud of clean, water vapor floating the air. The smokers have a common thought. "That guy is the biggest douche I've ever seen. I hope he forgets to exhale that water vapor, it sits in his lungs and he develops pneumonia."

Of course, the militant non-smokers will see him looking like he's smoking and walk over and say in a very non-judgmental way: "Why do you do that to yourself? It's so dirty and unhealthy. Do you know what you're doing to your body? Smoking cuts nine years off your life. Second-hand smoke is even more dangerous and you shouldn't expose others to your habit. How do you stand the smell on your clothes when you get home? It's just disgusting and it's against the law to smoke in a public place. Could you please step outside with the rest of the dirty people?"

"Ma'am, this is an electronic smoking device. It's battery operated. It looks and tastes like smoke, but I'm exhaling clean water vapor. So it's not against the law," our hero explains.

"Oh," she says, "You're not a real smoker. You're just a douche!"

Deep down, he knows she's right. But he takes another drag off the modified squirt gun in rightous indignation. As the water vapor cloud fades into nothingness, along with the last shreds of his dignity, it's time for reflection. I mean, when a militant smoke nazi calls you out, you've really got to take stock of your vices.

Even your fake vices.

The Cornstarch Incident

2011-02-06T08:21:00.000-06:00

When we owned the bar, the boys were still really young. Although they weren't completely self-sufficient at 3, they could move through the house and get what they wanted, even when they shouldn't have.

They could also open the baby gate. It was a team effort, as I found out later. Aidan would stand on the foot release trigger thing while holding onto the rail, and Tristan would swing the gate open.

But until that morning, I was under the impression that the child safety gates were child proof.

I lived by the adage that when the boys slept, I slept. I ran a bar, after all, and was up until 3 or 4 a.m. They could sense when I needed sleep and when I didn't. If I needed sleep, they were like insomniac meth heads with a Starbucks gift card. If I didn't need sleep, they slept till 8.

Of course, I was usually up at 6.

Like I said, we owned a bar. It got hot; I was hauling ass most of the time. Sometimes, there was chafing involved. Hey... it happens. I kept a box of cornstarch on my dresser and used it when needed.

It was a Friday morning and after closing on Thursday night, I stayed late to talk to a friend who was going through a divorce. I walked in the door at 3:30, showered and went to bed. Ashley got up and moving and I slept, hoping the boys would sleep in until 8, as they would do occasionally.

Sensing that I needed sleep, as soon as Ash closed the door to leave for work, they came in ready for breakfast at about 5:45. Moaning about my luck, I drug myself out of bed and started my day, looking forward to nap time.

I made it through the morning on a steady infusion of diet coke and Spongebob Squarepants. I also got them lunch early so they'd go down for a nap early, something my Mom taught me.

It worked. I got them down for a nap about 11, and as soon as they were good and asleep, I went to bed and was out.

You know those dreams you have when you actually feel something? You wake up and there's a reason you were feeling what you were feeling. I had a dream that I was sitting on the dock and dangling my feet in the water watching the boys splashing around.

I woke up about 12:15. There was no way I should be waking up less than an hour after getting the boys down. They usually slept two or three hours.

At that point, I noticed that there was a strangely cool sensation on my feet. I kicked at the covers to get them warm and a cloud of powder erupted from the end of the bed.

What the. . .

Remember the scene in The Godfather when they sent a message to the studio mogul who won't give the god son a role in a new movie? Right... the infamous horse head scene. I imagine myself looking like Jack Woltz as he discovered his prize thoroughbred's head in bed with him.

I pulled at the sheets. I made inderscernible questioning sounds. I think I may have stood up on the bed at one point. I definitely screamed "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" at the top of my lungs.

My feet... hell, my legs up to my knees... were covered in cornstarch. That whole end of the bed was covered. There was some on the floor. There were three tiny, perfect, cornstarchy handprints on the footboard. There was cornstarch on the dog's bed and a half-dollar sized dollop of the stuff still on her head. She looked at me as if to say "If you can't control those little bastards, take me back to the shelter. This sucks!"

The almost empty box of cornstarch lay on its side next to a pile of the powdery stuff that invaded the closet. I spewed a string of expletives all the way to the garage to get a broom and dustpan. I swept under the bed and in the closet. I shook out the dog bed and sheets took them down to the wash.

I mopped. I returned to find that there was still more powder. It took three times to get all the cornstarch off the floor. It was ridiculous. We moved the bed one day to rearrange the room. Little wisps of the stuff fell off the bed's frame to the floor. Ash and I had a laugh about it. It had been a couple of months and I could laugh about it.

To this day, we still find evidence of "The Cornstarch Incident" in the cracks of the oak floor more than four years later.

Halloween with Obama

2010-10-17T10:58:00.000-05:00

It's Halloween. Your kid goes to a door, carrying a flashlight and his loot for the night. He rings the doorbell and Obama opens the door and says "Trick or treat!"

He grabs the bag and flashlight. Citing his green energy policies, Obama declares moritorium on batteries and gives the kid a solar powered flashlight for which he bills him $1,000.

Obama takes 40% of the candy, gives the rest back along with a new smaller bag with no handles and a very small opening at the top. Your kid says "I've already got a bag." Obama says, "Everybody wants this bag and we're going to charge $250 a month for it."

The kid says "I don't really need new bag. I have a bag and it wasn't that expensive." Obams says "Some people don't have a bag and this will help them get a bag." The kid points out that if they want a bag, they should pay for it themselves. "I shouldn't have to pay for their bag if I already own one."

Obama says "This way, everyone will have the same bag." The kid says, "But my bag is better. It has a large opening and I can choose to put a lot in or take a lot out any time I want." Obama says "Yes, but the new bag regulates how much you put in." The kid thinks for a second and says, "No, what it really does is regulate what I can get out of it."

The kid says, "I have a bag, and it's paid for already." Obama says, "But this way, everyone can have access to the bag which you have." The kid, with logic on his side, points out that he should be able to choose which bag he wants. Obama closes the door.

He then takes "his" part of the candy and gives it to kids who don't even go trick or treating. Oh, and illegal aliens.

Gay marriage? Go for it.

2010-08-15T08:49:00.000-05:00

Friday, I was listening to the Shanin & Parks show during afternoon drive time. It's a local talk show that deals with the issues of the day and has a conservative bent, for the most part.

The issue was gay marriage. Callers were understandably split, as this is a divisive issue both socially and politically. Most who opposed gay marriage cited the Bible as the source of their objection. They use terms like "sanctity of marriage" and "union between man and a woman." Those who support gay marriage usually don't cite anything. They just say that it doesn't bother them, or that society has evolved. They will say that society is more accepting of inter-racial marriage and people who live together and never marry than it once was.

Then there was Terry from Overland Park.

He wanted to know why more people didn't mention studies done in countries that allow gay marriage, 70% of the children born in that country are illegitimate. The people in Holland and Denmark, he said, where gay marriage is allowed, are popping out illegitimate kids at an alarming rate. Why weren't people mentioning those studies?

I reached for my cell phone.

First of all, I hate the term "illegitimate children." All children are legitimate. They all need food and clothing and love. To me, it doesn't matter the marital state of their parents. Do "legitimate" children suddenly become illegitimate when their parents divorce?

I'm getting off the subject at hand. Suffice it to say that no one addressed Terry's concerns about why these studies to which he was privy were never cited. And I never got through to the station to voice my opinion.

So I'm going to use this forum to state my opinion about gay marriage and Terry's opinion about those studies.

I have searched the Internet and haven't found those studies. I've found opinions in support of some studies that kind look at that correlation. One even went so far as to examine possible objections to his opinion.

You might say, “Correlation doesn’t always indicate causation.” Yes, but often it does.

Wow. That's compelling. Yes, but often it does. The author then went on to talk about no-fault divorce, which has nothing to do with gay marriage. Like Terry, he offered no real support for his opinion.

Children being born out of wedlock (another of my favorite terms) are not the result of gay marriage. How can it be? By and large, gay people are not breeders.

In those countries that allow gay marriage, adoption by gay couples is more prevalent. A child who needs a family is adopted by two people in a loving committed relationship? Fine by me. In my mind, that child is much better off than one who is brought up by a single parent who either can't support him or doesn't want him.

In direct response to Terry from Overland Park, I would say that no one cites those studies for several reasons:

No one can find them.
Even the most ardent anti-gay marriage Bible thumper has to agree that any argument citing the correlation between gay marriage and illegitimate kids is thin, at best, when discussing gay marriage. At worst, it's irrelevant.
You're a jackass for thinking that way.

If I had gotten through to the radio station, I wonder if I could have snuck that one by the sensor. Probably not.

I think a lot of people have problems with the semantics. "Don't call it marriage. Call it a civil union." That's a crap argument, too.

Marriage is a civil union, even if you get married in a church. Don't believe me? Try getting married in a church by a preacher, minister or priest without presenting them with a license. The state is giving its OK for the union, the church is just providing the place and the officiant. (Ours was George Harrison... the banker, not the Beatle.)

In the end, I have to agree with a lot of the people who called when I say I'm fully in support of it. Two people in a committed relationship should not be denied the same rights that I have when it comes to the economic benefits of marriage, if there are any. They should be able to buy a house together, be eligible for insurance provided by their partner's employer if it's better, be allowed to inherit property without contest, and be allowed the power of attorney when it comes time to make decisions.

They should be subject to the phone calls about when they'll be home, the nagging about their habits or hobbies, the arguments about money or toothpaste on the counter, or whose turn it is to carry out the trash. Who am I to deny them that?

My Sports List May Be a Little Skewed

2010-08-08T10:52:00.000-05:00

No sports list is complete without including the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team. And when I say "no list," I mean "NO LIST."

Biggest Upset

#4 Sea Biscuit beats Man o' War

#3 South Carolina Beats Houston

#2 Villanova beats Georgetown

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

Most Inspiring

#4 Kerri Strug Sticks the Landing on One Leg in 1996

#3 Kirk Gibson Lifts the Dodgers over the A's in 1988

#2 Jim Valvano's "Never Give Up" Speech

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

Best True Story that Became a Movie

#4 Outcast race horse owned, trained and ridden by outcasts, beats the most dominant horse of the era

#3 White running back and black running back play for the Chicago Bears, one dies of cancer

#2 Yankee great dying of Lou Gehrig's disease, although it wasn't called that at the time

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

Best Sports Team Ever to Lift an Entire Nation in a Politically Charged Environment as the World Looked On

#2 South Africa 1995 Rugby World Cup

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

Best Team Nickname

#4 1984 University of Houston - "Phi Slamma Jamma"

#3 1927 New York Yankees - "Murderer's Row"

#2 1946 St. Louis Cardinals - "Gas House Gang"

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team - "1980 US Olympic Hockey Team"

Basketball Dynasties

#4 Michael Jordan's Chicago Bulls

#3 Bill Russell's Boston Celtics

#2 John Wooden's UCLA Bruins

#1 US Olympic Hockey Team

Best Catches

#4 Ozzie Smith's Bad Bounce Bare-Handed Play

#3 Jim Edmonds Diving Over the Shoulder Catch

#2 Willie Mays' "The Catch"

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

Most Devastating Hits

#3 Lawrence Taylor Breaks Joe Theisman's leg

#2 Chuck Bednarik Knocks Out Frank Gifford

#1 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team

President Pants on Fire said there would be no new taxes for the middle class

2010-07-26T10:01:00.000-05:00

Remember he said this during the campaign, and by "campaign" I mean February, 2007 until the present day, because the man never stops campaigning. It's what he's good at. And by that, I mean he's a good campaigner and that's about all.

But, I digress. To the matter at hand...

I'm going to tell you a hypothetically true story about a man named Paul. Paul is a good man. He has a wife and two kids. He's in his 50s and is a contractor. He's built his company from the ground up. He has a good income, but isn't RICH by any means.

Here's the sad part. Paul's got a bad ticker. He's a fighter, though. So there's hope.

After Christmas, Paul has a heart attack He's waiting for a transplant, but it doesn't look good. He lies on his deathbed, with those who love him surrounding him. They celebrate New Years Eve in the hospital. On New Years Day, slipping in and out of consciousness, he imparts his final words of love and wisdom to his family. He tells them that he has had a good life and that he has lived his dream to see his children grow and start families. He has no regrets. He tells them that in his will, he will leave the family business to his son and daughter, who have both worked to help the business grow.

Pual dies. He has planned well. He has made the arrangements and the family has the funeral and pays their respects. They tell their stories about their patriarch. Slowly, normalcy returns and they get back to their lives.

Until one day, the business receives a certified letter from the US government. It seems they have a tax matter to settle and they have to go downtown to see the IRS. Did the old man forget something, they wonder. He seemed to have everything else in order.

Yes, he forgot one thing. Well, not so much forgot. He just didn't know about it because it has been kept hush-hush.

Enter Obama. Stage left. (That's funny.)
In a footnote of the US budget, on page 127, the Estate Tax has been resurrected. Probably the most despised of all the taxes, commonly referred to as the "Death Tax," it was part of the Bush tax cuts of 2001, and it was hoped by many to be a memory of the old tax code.

Why is it despised? Because it is unfair.

"But why is it unfair?" you ask. Easy.

Taxes have already been paid on that income. He has built the business and lived comfortably, but is by no means rich. He makes a good living but, like many businesses started from the ground up, he has reinvested in it over many years. It is a small business, but has about $10 million in assets.

The government, by reinstituting the Death Tax, is now due 55% of what our hero has passed down. The company now owed $5.5 million on assets upon which Paul has already paid taxes. How do they handle this debt?

Selling the business is an option, but no one will buy the business with that kind of tax burden.They can take on the debt personally, but is that feasible or fair? The simple answer is "No," because, in all reality, they can't pay it. They don't pay themselves that much in salary.

Economic reality for the middle class.
A man lives his whole life, working and saving to pass something down to his kids so that they may have a better life. (Quiet down, feminists. I know women also do, but for the sake of this story, our hero is a man.)

Putting children in a position where they have to close the business and turn over assets is an economic reality. People will lose jobs. Small businesses will close. Because of a footnote. Because Obama is going to extraordinary measures to raise taxes to pay for his political agenda.

What Obama will say, if anything.
He'll say this doesn't effect the middle class. That only the richest 2% will have to pay it. Unless you happen to own a business with $3.5 million in assets. That's going to account for a lot of businesses in this country.

He'll say that you won't have to worry about it. Unless you happen to work for one of those small businesses.

He'll say this is not a new tax. He is merely allowing the Bush tax cuts to expire. Which is just a horse shit lie.

George Steinbrenner died this year. His kids are SO lucky.
This is kind of an extreme example, but an excellent one. Steinbrenner a few weeks ago. He's passing on his New York Yankees empire, and his children will not have to pay any estate taxes on it, which is fair, in my opinion. Mr. Steinbrenner already paid taxes on that income. No sense to subject it to taxation once again. Because he died when he did, his sons and daughter saved half a billion dollars in estate taxes.

So in closing, I will apologize to my sons in advance for the tax burden they will inherit, because I don't plan on dying this year. Now if I can just make it to the $3.5 million exemption level, but that's really the fun part.

My Plan to Pay Down the National Debt

2010-07-18T12:26:00.000-05:00

I'm getting a little fed up with the talk about the deficit.

Everyone knows that it increased under Bush. We're not here to argue that point. Republicans try to justify it as necessary because of 9-11 and the fact that we were and are continuing to fight wars on two fronts. Democrats campaigned that spending was out of control in the last election and their plan to combat the spending is to spend EVEN MORE.

It's as if not one elected representative in Washington would stand up for common sense. These individuals who we choose lose their damn minds when they arrive in the capital. Yes, some Republicans are just as guilty, but the last bill

The national debt grew by almost $5 trillion under Bush. In 18 months under Obama, it has grown $2.3 trillion thanks to the stimulus bill and other pork-ridden bills which show that the ruling party has no interest in getting spending under control.

The ones that vote to spend beyond the means, get them the hell out. Don't even let them on the ballot unless they know that we have to operate on a balanced budget.

Let's face it... it's OUR fault for putting these ass clowns in Washington in the first place. We should, and as Americans we always do, bear the brunt of our elected officials' mistakes.

Paying Down the National Debt
I'm a common sense guy. I'm a patriotic guy. Most people probably are, I think. So why can't we combine those two things to pay down this debt?

Every family has to file a tax return, right? Right. No matter what, it has to be filed. People either owe taxes, or they are owed a refund.

Here's where common sense comes in. For six years, each household pays $10 per person in that household. There's no getting around it, and there's no loophole. If you owe money, when you write the check to pay your income taxes, you just write another check. If you are owed a refund, you have them deduct that amount.

The first year, the government would take in $3 billion. I did my math in a vacuum. I assumed a static population, call it "one in, one out." I also didn't account for inflation, interest or population increases. Perhaps most importantly, and most improbably, I assumed Obama wouldn't spend any more than he already has. (It's estimated he'll add another $4 trillion to the National Debt by the end of his first term.)

By my calculations, it would take 4300 years to pay down the National Debt.

That's doable. Right?

The Reason for This Rant on How to Pay Down the National Debt
I wrote this with the goal of discovering just how much debt the U.S. is in, how much each person owes ($42,000 and change) and what an impossible situation our government perpetuates. Unless our country gets a grip on spending, we've got no chance of paying down this debt.

What I learned:

Spending our way out of debt is a stupid, stupid idea
Anyone who has voted to spend more money shouldn't be in office
We the people need to pay more attention to what our representatives do in Washington
The U.S. needs a balanced budget amendment
$13 trillion is a lot
We can't pay it

Isn't this a little excessive for the Gladstone Applebee's?

2010-07-16T08:39:00.000-05:00

We went to Applebee's for dinner yesterday. About halfway through, a party of about 10 people came in for a birthday party. The kid looked to be about six or so. There were two couples, a single guy, and about five or six kids.

A lady carrying a very large package wrapped in birthday paper created a stir. It wasn't because she struggled with the box. It was because of her appearance.

Her hair was jet black. Like Sharpie on clean white paper. It was the kind of black that nature never intended. Blacker than black. Industrial black. Let's just say that the box of die she used didn't promise any natural highlights.

She had two half sleeves of tattoos. I'm not against free expression, and I'm not saying that women shouldn't have tattoos; some are very tasteful and even kinda sexy. But she had the kind of tats that badass bikers may view as a little bold. Let's just say that they were colorful and leave it at that.

Our lady had a boob job. I'm not against that at all. But there's a time and place to be proud of your assets and Applebee's during dinner rush is neither the time nor the place. Unless the Applebee's is in Sturgis and has a stripper pole, shot chairs, and cabins out back for regulars to stay in during the Black Hills Rally.

I couldn't see her shoes. I can imagine that they probably sported a nice, long heel of some sort. But she may have been the type to rock combat boots as a way to complete her ensemble, but I can't be sure.

The piece de resistance, however, and the inspiration for the title of this blog, was what she was wearing. Remember the scene in "Bull Durham" when Annie barges in to Crash's house while he's ironing and drinking whiskey? She's wearing a white outfit and short shorts and Crash says, "Who dresses you? Don't you think this is a little excessive for the Carolina league?" Perfect.

Our lady was wearing what looked like a long white t-shirt that she had modified for full shock value. I can't imagine that you can buy that garment, but maybe I just haven't spent enough time at Hussies-R-Us.

It was backless, for the most part, and open down to the small of her back. I could see a thin, metal chain across her back, and I honestly don't know what that is.

It was low cut, but did I really have to say that or did you assume quite correctly that it was? It was loose, so it offered ample opportunity for her to show off the cleavage if she was so inclined.

But not our lady. No. That would have been... ummmm... tasteful.

This garment was slit up the sides. As I said, it was loose, and every time she turned, or bent over to arrange birthday gifts, you could see all that the good doctor blessed her with. Side boob, and plenty of it.

She wasn't wearing a bra, or anything that could have been mistaken for one. Ashley tried to describe some bra type device that kind of suctions to the breast to offer lift and nipple coverage, but I think our lady would probably reserve that for church or a funeral or something more formal than Applebee's on a Thursday.

I wish I could have taken a picture, and I hope my words are descriptive enough that you get the full effect of what we witnessed. I really thought I should go over and give her a few singles because I think she purposely wanted to call attention to herself in a way that only the hard-working ladies at Million Dollar Babes can. I'm not being judgmental, mind you; I'm just trying to be funny. Self-expression is a wonderful thing and if you want to show off your assets at Applebee's, that's fine.

I just wonder what she wears to work.

I'm outraged by all the outrage

2010-07-14T16:35:00.000-05:00

I've been seeing reports and posts that a video showing an Auschwitz survivor dancing at the sites of death camps has sparked outrage across the world. I wanted to investigate to see how deep the outrage runs.

As per usual, it seems that the media and Internet have exaggerated the outrage. I've seen a quote from one survivor who expressed his displeasure. He's allowed to be upset. I don't agree with him, but I wasn't there. I respect his opinion. But his quote is the only one I've seen on major news sites which do not like the routine. He's Polish. He lives in England. I guess that's what passes for "worldwide furor" these days.

Adolek Kohn, his daughter Jane Kormen, and Mr. Kohn's three grandchildren are shown dancing to "I Will Survive." They can't really keep time, but they're not auditioning for "So You Think You Can Dance" or "America's Got Talent." They're celebrating and giving the bird to that which scarred him, but did not kill him. And so, like Kevin Bacon, Chris Penn, Sarah Jessica Parker and the rest of the "Footloose" cast, they danced to celebrate without regard to what the establishment thinks. They danced at Auschwitz, at Dachau and at Terezin.

The opinions of others who are outraged, I don't give a crap about. If you weren't there, you don't get to judge this man's actions. He's not making money from his experience. He said that he's trying to reach out to a younger generation so that they may know what happened. He gets to do that. It also gives the finger to idiots who say the Holocaust didn't happen.

This man survived the most horrific mass murder of all time. If he wants to dance at Auschwitz, he EARNED that right. If he wants to take a dump under the "Arbeit Macht Frei" sign, more power to him. If he wanted to dress up a dummy in a Nazi uniform and kick the hell out of it and set it on fire, he's got that coming.

Mr. Kohn can do anything he wants; he survived against all odds, had what I guess is a nice life, has a daughter and grandchildren who love him and wanted to accompany him on his travels back to the place where his life wasn't worth anything. That is the essence of survival. He can celebrate in whatever way pleases him.

To Mr. Kohn and his family, I say "Dance on." I wish you would have danced at the other sites of human oppression and murder. I hope you continue to dance and to film and to share. I just hope that you get away from disco.

Disco sucks, man.

Vacation - Omaha - A Zoo is Just a Zoo

2010-07-09T08:32:00.000-05:00

We hightailed it out of Pierre like we robbed the bank. Understandably, we did not feel like we would miss the town and all it had to offer.

We headed south to Omaha, with nothing on the agenda except getting to the hotel. Doing nothing in Omaha was better than trying to find something to do in Pierre.

We found the hotel. Took us two tries, but we found it. They directed us to a sports bar next door and we had an early dinner. They marinated their steaks in whiskey; something I've got to try. The server was very friendly and Ashley took the boys to swim for a while.

The grandma's took the boys for the night while Ash and I drove across the river to Council Bluffs, Iowa to play some poker at Horseshoe. It's a surprisingly big poker room, and the game I joined was very aggressive. Unfortunately there were no weak players. I missed one opportunity when I flopped a full house and the two players in the hand folded to my raise. I'm still kicking myself for that.

We played blackjack for a little while. It was the dealer's first night and took about half an hour to get through one shoe. He had trouble adding. He threw a card on the floor. As he was rearranging his tray, chips exploded all over the tray. It was comical.

The next morning, we took the boys to the Omaha Zoo. All in all, it's a cool zoo and I highly recommend it, particularly to my friends in Kansas City. If you've never been, KC's zoo sucks as much as anything imaginable. It's sad, really.

Of particular note is the aquarium. That was almost worth the price of admission by itself. The butterfly house is OK. They also have a desert dome and underneath it, a display of nocturnal animals and cave dwellers. Don't miss that.

It rained off and on, and finally got to be too much, so we headed back to Kansas City. Omaha is a nice town with a lot to offer, so I think we'll be going back.

Then again, I may just be comparing it to Pierre.

Vacation Day Five - Top 10 Things to Do in Pierre, SD

2010-07-08T07:11:00.000-05:00

We left Deadwood, it's history, scenery and 70 degree weather and headed back east to Pierre, the state capital of South Dakota. Why? Glad you asked.

Ashley doesn't like to travel very far in a car. Four hours is about her max, and she'd already endured two six hour stretches. So she thought Pierre was a good stopping point. After all, as the state's capital and largest city, there has to be things to do in Pierre, SD.

Epic fail.

She looked up "Things to do in Pierre, SD" and found that they had a very good hands on science museum for the boys. They have experiments. They have dinosaurs. They have an aquarium.

Not really.

The experiments are things they do in fourth grade science. Or art. They have a two way mirror thing. The aquarium? Five fish, all from the Missouri river two blocks away. Plus they have given their dinosaurs vocalization, so every five minutes, the place erupts with a screaming T-Rex. It's annoying.

We noticed that Perkins is probably the best restaurant in Pierre. We chose to have dinner at the only Mexican place in town besides Taco John's. After all, it's hard to screw up Mexican food, right?

Let's just say that those people worked hard, really hard, and leave it at that. Except that we all really wished we'd chosen Taco John's.

We drove all around looking for things to do in Pierre... ANYTHING. So I devised a list.

TOP 10 Things to Do in Pierre, SD

#10 Read the pamphlet at the hotel "Things to do in Pierre, SD"

#9 Drive around looking for things to do in Pierre, SD

#8 Argue with a local about the pronunciation of the word "Pierre." (They say "Peer." Everyone else in the country says it correctly.)

#7 Go to the Science and Discovery Center and comment on how much it sucks.

#6 Go to the only Mexican restaurant in town and comment on how much it sucks.

#5 Go back to the hotel and talk about how there are no things to do in Pierre, SD.

#4 Explain to the boys that Nebraska will be much better than Pierre with a straight face.

#3 Create travel slogans for Pierre. My favorite one was... too full of profanity to publish here.

#2 Go to bed at 9:30, so you can get an early start on getting the hell out.

#1 Drink!

Vacation Day Four - Monuments, History and Smelly Animals in the Black Hills

2010-07-06T17:54:00.000-05:00

We took off out of Deadwood to see the national monuments and Mammoth Site in Hot Springs. It's not a very long drive to Mount Rushmore from Deadwood; the Crazy Horse Memorial is less than 20 miles away, and Hot Springs is just 40 minutes south of that.

Mount Rushmore is surreal, I think, because I've seen it so many times. It's not as tall as it appears in pictures, probably because of an optical illusion created from shooting at an angle.

It's majestic, though.

I thought about how an artist's vision was on such a grand scale that he decided to make a sculpture on the side of a mountain.

I thought about George Washington leading a bunch of farmers and merchants against the greatest army in the world and laying the groundwork for Presidents to come.

I thought about Thomas Jefferson and how he took this idea of democracy, something the world had never known, and created the blueprint. ("We hold these truths to be self-evident.")

I thought about Abraham Lincoln and the thankless and tireless job he did, trying to hold the country together, and giving his life for his country as much as any of the hundreds of thousands who went to war and didn't come back.

I thought about Teddy Roosevelt. Why is he there?

It started to rain, so we went on to the Crazy Horse Memorial, which I think is the definition of an obsession. It is another mountain carving started in 1948. His face is done. It's been 62 years.

The artist died in 1982 and his family has carried on with the carving. They will not accept government money or assistance, only personal donations. Until I saw the video outlining the challenges, I did not appreciate the tremendous amount of work that has gone into creating this memorial.

I hope it is finished in my lifetime. I will definitely return to see it completed.

We moved on to the Mammoth Site near Hot Springs. Of all the places we visited, it was the most expensive, by far, almost $50 for us to see. It's a guided tour. As an archaeology buff, I was looking forwardto seeing it.

Because the remains are not fossilized, they can't really take them out of the ground without doing them irrepairable damage. This is both a blessing and a curse. Scientists from all over the world can come to see the site and conduct research. It also means, for the general public, you can't get close enough to really see the remains.

We took the scenic route back to Deadwood, but compared to Kansas City, the ugliest part of the Black Hills is scenic. As we drove through Custer National Forest, we saw buffalo, elk, deer, antelope and prairie dogs. It reminded me a lot of our family vacations when I was a kid, driving through the Rockies on our way to visit my Dad's family in Oregon.

I think Aidan got tired of stopping all the time and wanted to get back to Deadwood. We saw thousands of buffalo like the big boy pictured above. Shortly after I took the picture, Aidan said, "Less stopping. More driving!"

I'm not sure why he wanted to get back to Deadwood so fast. He can't gamble. But it was funny.

Vacation - Day Three - Deadwood and a little poker

2010-07-06T05:40:00.000-05:00

The first night in Deadwood was really just a feeling out process. We looked around to see what the town had to offer. There's really not a lot to do in Deadwood proper, but I think we all needed a little of that.

The first day trip we took was to visit Spearfish and the Dick Termes Gallery. He paints on spheres and is absolutely incredible. We met him briefly when he directed us to a parking spot, then he hopped into his old truck and drove away with a big pile of brush in it.

His gallery has dozens of his pieces in it. They hang from the ceiling and they rotate slowly so you can see how his subject matter lies on the sphere. It's hard to describe, so take a look at the youtube video that first made me want to see his gallery.

We also visited a few antique stores right on the main drag of Spearfish, along with an art gallery. All were excellent. We then went back through the winding roads and went through Sturgis. It's hard to imagine that town hosting a huge event like the Black Hills Rally, but as one person put it, "It's an amazing thing when an event doubles the size of your state."

I managed to squeeze in a little poker at Saloon No. 10, where Wild Bill Hickok was shot. I sat with my back to the door, managed to win a little over $200 in 45 minutes, then was summoned by my Mom because Tristan was asking for me. I left a hot table, filled with an incredibly drunk woman, an incredibly drunk man, three people who played every pot, and one guy who was the definition of on tilt. (For you non-poker players, that means he was pissed and playing very badly.)

The floors of No. 10 are covered in sawdust, the walls are covered with Deadwood and western history, and at night, the dance floor is covered with drunk people. A little something for everyone.

Vacation - Day Two - Nature's Majesty and Tourist Shlock

2010-07-03T08:54:00.000-05:00

We left Mitchell, home of the one and only Corn Palace on the next leg of our journey. After a nice breakfast, we headed west towards The Badlands.

One person's obstacle is another person's national park.

The Badlands is breathtaking. It's more like the Grand Canyon than I imagined. The spires created by the ancient river and the colors that are created are amazing.

It came as a surprise to me that there is a lot of high prairie in The Badlands. A lot of green out there too, and a lot of wildlife. We saw three bighorn sheep very close to the Visitors Center and an eagle was floating on the wind currents above one of the places you can stop to take a look at the view.

It was, all in all, pretty majestic. Then we continued on to the antithesis of majestic, Wall Drug.

One person's moneymaker is another's annoyance.

Wall Drug, as I said in my previous blog, advertises with billboards on the highway. Hundreds of them. And they don't really say anything. It's just the multitude that FORCES you to go, as if under some sort of spell.

As tourist traps go, this one is in the upper echelons. There are souvenirs of all shapes and sizes. It's loud, It's crowded. It's huge. They sell everything from fudge to western wear. There are crappy statues for the kids to climb on so you can take their pictures. A hamburger and fries is $8.50, and that doesn't include a drink. And they have a bitchin jackelope collection. That did not disappoint.

We left Wall and headed in the direction of Deadwood. We drove through Sturgis. We didn't stop because there is literally nothing there. Deadwood is in the mountains, and is cool, dark and has an air about it that something is about to happen.

But it doesn't.

I played Omaha at The Silveradoand did well for half an hour till Ashley came to get me. We visited Kevin Costner's Midnight Star and played some $2 blackjack while drinking a few complementary beers. I learned there was a difference between "complementary" and "free."

I think it's probably because legends of the town are so colorful, vivid and well-told. It markets itself as small-town Vegas, but I was up early in search of a poker game and there wasn't one to be had in the whole town.

Yes, I checked the whole town, not necessarily because I like playing poker, but because I could check the whole town in about 20 minutes. I was gone for 45, never found a game, played a little three-card poker and was back before anyone knew I was gone.

The town was quiet as I walked back towards our hotel, I thought I saw someone across the street wave, and an image flashed in my mind of another poker player acknowledging that he too was in search of a card game. But no one was there; just wishful thinking, or maybe one of the ghosts that reportedly haunt the town.

Either way, Deadwood is peaceful early on a Saturday morning. I'm looking forward to the day, filled with museums and antiques and art.

And later on, once the familial obligations are satisfied, poker.

Vacation- Day One - How many more miles is it?

2010-07-01T21:39:00.000-05:00

Just a new turn of phrase. It used to be "Are we there yet. But Aidan has decided that "How many more miles is it?" is a more unique way to ask how much longer we'll be on the road.
Tristan's statement of the day was "I wanna go to the beach." He's remembering two years ago when we went to Corpus Christi. I didn't have the heart to tell him there's no beach in South Dakota. As many of you know, Tristan has OCD and autism, so he repeats phrases over and over when he's unsure of what's going on. I think he said "I wanna go to the beach" 529 times in two hours. It kinda made me want to turn the car around and drive to Texas.
We drove from Kansas City to Mitchell, South Dakota. If you've never been, it's a charming little town, really. The big point of interest is The Corn Palace. It's a palace type structure; the outside is covered with murals all made of... wait for it... corn.

It's not as bad as it sounds. The town looks like Smalltown, USA, except that there's a big honkin' palace in the middle of town made of corn. Inside, they sell corn products and shlocky stuff advertising Mitchell's Number One Attraction.

We went to dinner at The Depot. Nice atmosphere, great food, cold beer, reasonable prices and great service. I had a chopped buffalo steak that was excellent. Even Ashley liked it, and she's really against type of red meat that doesn't say "Moo." The blue ribbon dish was the beer cheese soup. I'm going to try to duplicate the recipe when I get back. I would highly recommend The Depot and I will not hesitate to visit again when and if we come to Mitchell again. Thanks to Leslie for the great service and for finding my Mom's glasses.

Tomorrow, we'll visit The Badlands before ending up at Deadwood. But first, we're stopping at Wall Drug. It's a drug store in Wall, SD. I don't know why we're going there; Ashley just said, "Everyone who has been to Mount Rushmore goes to Wall Drug." She said they have a bitchin' jackelope collection.

Really? OK.

They started advertising in Iowa between Council Bluffs and Sioux City. That's not even the same highway. It better be worth the time. We're going there instead of Quinn to see a barn that houses the world's fourth largest beer can collection.

Hummus Recipes

2010-06-24T21:33:00.000-05:00

Don't buy ready-made hummus at the store. It's expensive, and usually not very fresh. Hummus is extremely versatile and you can mix just about anything with the base to create whatever flavor you want.

Here are some of our favorite hummus recipes. We'll add more as we come up with more. Please feel free to email your favorite recipe so we can try it.

Smoky Chipotle Hummus

Ingredients:

3 (15.5 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup tahini (sesame-seed paste)

1 lemon, juiced

2 tablespoons olive oil

5 chipotle peppers, canned (reserve some adobo sauce)
roasted red bell peppers (jarred works, do it yourself is better)
5 cloves garlic

8-10 sun-dried tomatoes

pinch of salt
ground black pepper to taste
red pepper flake to taste

Directions

Place the garbanzo beans, water, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, chipotle pepper, garlic, adobo sauce and cumin in the bowl of a food processor; blend until smooth. Add the red peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, cilantro, salt, pepper and red pepper flake. Pulse the mixture until the ingredients are coarsely chopped into the hummus base. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and chill until ready to serve.

Sun-dried Tomato and Herb Hummus

Ingredients:

2 (15.5 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup tahini (sesame-seed paste)

1 lemon, juiced

2-1/2 tablespoons olive oil

Fresh basil, finely chopped

5 cloves garlic

12 Sun-dried tomatoes

pinch of salt

ground black pepper to taste

Directions

Place the garbanzo beans, water, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, and garlic in the bowl of a food processor; blend until smooth. Add the sun-dried tomatoes, basil, salt, and pepper. Pulse the mixture until the ingredients are coarsely blended into the hummus base. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and chill until ready to serve.

Caramelized Onion Hummus

Ingredients:

2 (15.5 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup tahini (sesame-seed paste)

1 lemon, juiced

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large yellow onion, sliced
roasted red bell peppers (jarred works, do it yourself is better)
1 bulb garlic, with cloves split length-wise
balsamic vinegar

pinch of salt
ground black pepper to taste
red pepper flake to taste

Directions

Carmelize onion and garlic in olive oil. This will seem like a lot of onion and garlic, but caramelizing them really mellows out the flavor. Add balsamic vinegar when onions and garlic start to turn opaque. Saute till onions are soft. While cooking the onions, place the garbanzo beans, water, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil in food processor; blend until smooth. Add the salt, pepper and red pepper flake. Add the onions and garlic. Pulse the mixture until the ingredients are coarsely chopped into the hummus base. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and chill until ready to serve.

Spinach and Artichoke Hummus

Ingredients:

3 (15.5 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup tahini (sesame-seed paste)

1 lemon, juiced

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 jar marinated artichoke hearts
1 cup julienned baby spinach
5 cloves garlic

pinch of salt
ground black pepper to taste

Directions

Place the garbanzo beans, water, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil and garlic in a food processor; blend until smooth. Add the artichoke hearts, spinach, salt, and pepper. Pulse the mixture until the ingredients are coarsely chopped into the hummus base. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and chill until ready to serve.

We serve hummus with pita chips, but it's good with just about anything. Enjoy!

Comparing John Wayne and John Wooden

2010-06-06T10:21:00.000-05:00

There's a line in a John Wayne movie that I always loved. Now this is a stretch, so bear with me. But I thought of it when I read that John Wooden passed away.

In "The Cowboys," as John Wayne (as Wil Andersen) is leading a group of youngsters on their first cattle drive, the come across an Indian burial ground. Cimarron asks what it is and Mr. Andersen says "Little Big Horn." Cimarron says "They didn't even give him a decent grave!"

"It's not how they bury ya.
It's how they remember ya that counts."

- John Wayne (as Wil Andersen in "The Cowboys")

That has always stuck with me... It's how they remember you that counts.

John Wooden built one of the most dominant powerhouse college programs ever at UCLA. He won 10 NCAA championships in 12 years, had four perfect seasons, and was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and coach.

He coached basketball for 30 years, but Mr. Wooden has been known longer as a teacher, humanitarian and thinker since the mid-1970s. He was humble, wise, giving and brilliant. I think it would be even more fitting if he was remembered as a teacher than a basketball man, and I think he would be proud if that was the case.

I read a short piece about Mr. Wooden after he passed away about the folks who saw him almost every day in his favorite diner. I thought it fitting that the kids he has talked to over the last 12 years in the diner probably do not realize he was one of the greatest coaches who ever taught the game. So I'll finish this with my favorite quote:

What you are as a person is far more important
than what you are as a basketball player.

- John Wooden

What a Drag It Is Getting Old

2010-05-14T06:39:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I feel old. Sometimes I feel like I'm 28. I don't really know why 28 is the age I project but I do. But the fact of the matter is, I'm 43 now. I have all the aches and pains associated with being that age.

On the day I turned 40 (and I'm not exaggerating here) I could no longer read the birthdate on a driver's license while wearing contacts. Bad news if you're in the bar business. I was relegated to using reading glasses. I didn't like it much. Made me feel old.

My hair gets more and more gray and it seems I never notice it until I get a haircut. What was once a dark brown changed to half brown/half gray, and I fear is now well past 50-50 and working its way toward the silver that was my Grandfather's hair. Except that his never fell out. At least I know I've earned my gray hairs. Having twins, running a bar, being married to a woman... all of this earns the gray.

From the Weaver side of the family, I got this male pattern baldness that leaves the back and sides nice and thick, while the hairline recedes. But this recession is not graceful, no. There's a thatch of hair right on top that poofs up an demands attention. Right behind that is a line of shiny, shiny scalp. To top it all off, I've got a wicked scar which is becoming more visible as time goes on. Drunken horseshoe game... 'nuff said.

I've always heard the oldtimers talk about their knees aching when it was going to rain, and I never knew whether to believe them or not, but now, I know. I blew up an ankle playing soccer in college and it is in a constant state of swelling. I can tell you two days before it's going to rain. The winter is worse, though.

For years I played volleyball four or five nights a week. Being a big guy, my knees took a pounding. I have no cartilage left. When I walk up stairs it sounds like they're covered in Rice Krispies. In the winter, they ache any time there's a front moving in. Doesn't matter if it's a warm front or a cold front, my knees ache.

My hands hurt and I don't know why. I could understand if I'd come up through the Golden Gloves, or worked the docks as a longshoreman, but this can't be anything but an old journalism injury from back in the days when cutting and pasting required an X-acto knife and hot wax. I know I'm stretching with it being a journalism injury, but it's really all I've got to explain why my hands hurt. Plus, it's kind of funny.
I've noticed too, that physical lamentations aren't the only thing I can associate with getting older. Never one to be secretive about how I feel (please read "Why I'm an Asshole" if you need a refresher), I now have zero tolerance for stupidity. There is no leeway here. If you're an idiot, I'll tell you that you're an idiot, why you're an idiot and exactly what you should do to remedy the situation. Usually that begins with getting the hell away from me.

There's no end to the myriad of ways people can piss me off these days. From the poker table ("Why did you play that? Ya moron!") to the highway (Slow drivers piss me off. Fast drivers piss me off.) to stupid changes (Don't get me started on red light cameras) to the political climate ("Nothing good ever came from a Republican. I only pull one lever when I vote.") I'm Archie Bunker without the bigotry.

I'm more interested in the Weather Channel these days. I notice I've been alive for more events depicted on the History Channel. I'm getting more disenchanted with TV. Do we really need to know about the real lives of housewives anywhere in the country? Especially bitchy, rich housewives?

I hate listening to the radio now because I usually can't stand new music and Van Halen is now on the oldies station. And not the cool station that plays older stuff... the oldies station that used to play songs from the 50s and 60s but changed format because their audience was diminishing. I did recently come across a station in KC that calls itself "Gen X Radio," which is great, but I get a lot of odd looks from kids when I'm blasting "Evenflow" and an ad for Flow Max immediately follows.

Yes, it sucks getting older. The little aches and pains are to be expected. I just wish my ankles wouldn't crack so loud when I get up to pee in the middle of the night. It's not so bad at 1:15 and 3:05, but at 4:30 I'm afraid it will wake the boys.

The Mother's Day Diatribe

2010-05-09T09:28:00.000-05:00

I write, so I'm kind of anti-Hallmark most of the time. I think it has something to do with the fact that I keep applying for jobs there and I never get interviewed. I've heard it's a cult anyway.

So today is Mother's Day and I'm trying to write a poem for my Mom. There's really not a Hallmark card that I would say represents my Mom very well because she's not like the Moms described in the lacy, gauzy cards. I thought I'd write a few different styles because it would be funny.

Limerick
There once was a woman named Shirley

I'll stop there. There aren't many words that rhyme with Shirley. A limerick is supposed to be funny, and "burly" lends itself to being funny, but Mom has lost some weight over the past year, so it doesn't really fit. Besides, I don't really want to write anything that would make her mad. First of all, I don't want to embarrass her and secondly, I don't want to get my ass kicked.

Haiku
Drops of wisdom fall
We catch them in our bucket
Makes life easier

Haiku are supposed to be non-sequitor. Check. They follow a certain syntax. 5-7-5... Check. But like limericks, as a rule haiku suck unless they're funny, and to be funny, they have be dirty. Again, I don't want to get my ass kicked.

Traditional verse
Mom, you have always been there for us
Although I didn't always like what you said
Sometimes she'd yell and scream and cuss
And get so mad her face would turn red

But it was out of love.

... And then I just sort of lost it because it was funny and I couldn't get back on track. The poem wasn't that good anyway. Trying to write a poem about my Mom is difficult at best. My mom is not a poetry inspiring person. My Mom isn't really the type to accept frilly praises easily. I think she gets embarrassed when people get all gushy about her. Because I don't think she really thinks she's doing anything out of the ordinary.

The Visual
Usually the visual is all wrong. Usually there's a picture of flowers against a perfectly lit window on an antique table. My Mom isn't like that. Don't get me wrong... she decorates her house, but the grandkids would tear up the flowers and antique tables aren't real sturdy and dependable. My Mom is though.

The perfect card would have to have a visual that says something you can count on in when times are difficult. She's a big Cardinals fan. I should look for a card with Hall of Fame relief pitcher Bruce Sutter on it. He'd come in in the 8th when the starter got in a jam; runners on first and third, one out. He'd get a double play ball to end the inning. Then he'd mow down three hitters in the 9th notching a win.

Not exactly common in Mother's Day card offerings.

The Gift
My Mom is hard to shop for. Really hard. She just says "Nothing" when you ask what she wants and when she needs something, she just goes out and gets it. She'd be happy with a day with her kids and grandkids. Unfortunately my family and I can't be in Wichita with her today.

Maybe I'm just making the whole process too difficult.

Just say it
My Mom is awesome. She kicked my ass when I needed it. She was there to loan me money, give advice, listen when I got my heart ripped out, and would drop everything to be here when I needed her help. I call her almost every day, even if it's just to talk about why LaRussa's screwing up by hitting the pitcher in the eight spot. Our relationship has seen some rocky times, but I'm glad to have my Mom's blood in me. She's funny, loyal, smart, stubborn, dependable and tough. I haven't always been the best son I could be, but I think she's been the best Mom I could hope for.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

I'm Gonna Live Forever

2010-05-02T23:08:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about my Dad today. Not for any particular reason, but probably because I miss talking to him. I could sure use some of his counsel right about now. He had a way of putting things into perspective.

My Dad was a simple man. He always wished for the same thing on his birthday. "Health, wealth, good friends, and time to enjoy them." He liked hanging with his family. He liked being outside. He liked dogs and kids. He liked old trucks and the 57 Chevy. He told the same jokes and the same stories over and over again, although the stories sometimes involved different characters and had different endings. (My Dad was full of shit, but in a good way.)

He liked fire. He would make little fires on our back patio in a cast iron dutch oven. My Mom always was a little bit afraid he'd burn down the house. After he died, we built a fire in his smoker that stayed burning for five days. We'd gather around, drink beer and tell stories about him. I think that Dad would think that it was a right proper send off.

My brothers and I have very different personalities. I think if you ask anyone who has known us through the years and knew my Dad, they'd tell us all, "You're a lot like your father."

I can't think of a greater compliment.

We played "Live Forever" at his funeral right after I delivered the eulogy. Some say it's about religion, and that may be true; I can't say what was going through Mr. Shaver's head when he wrote it. But to me, it's about passing the right information to the next generation, and in that, leaving behind a legacy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyEJfoLWq9k&feature=related

Thinking of You

2010-05-01T07:01:00.001-05:00

I find myself thinking of you
when I have a moment's peace
I want to share it with you

because those moments are

few and far between these days

I find myself thinking of you

at times during the day

fleeting thoughts of your

kind eyes, your gentle laugh
and I miss you seeing you

I find myself thinking of you
even when we are home
and you are sleeping the sleep
of a tired Mom and teacher
who earns her rest every day

I find myself thinking of you
all the time, angel darlin
when we plan to have time of our own
and we can do the things
we often don't get to do.

I find myself thinking of you
when I am puzzled by life,
I don't know where I'm going,
or I don't know what to do
but I know without doubt
I'll find myself thinking of you.

My Wife Has Entered The Twilight Zone

2010-04-30T12:17:00.000-05:00

The movie “Twilight,” which has caused such a stir lately, and the book series written by a caught in the doldrums housewife have completely missed the target audience. The saga (as my wife calls it) details the trials and tribulations of human/vampire romance in a Washington state high school.

You would think that the target audience would be high school girls, but apparently high school girls do not read novels about high school girls falling in love with vampires. Junior high and middle school girls do read books about high school girls.

Guess who else does. Middle school teachers. They are insane about this.

The First Bite of Twilight
It all started innocently enough. A couple of girls in my wife’s class told her she should read the book and, being a teacher who likes to keep up with what the kids are reading and watching, she did. She bought the paperback version of “Twilight.” She read it rather quickly, after all, she has a masters degree and we’re not talking Dostoevsky here. It was written for 12-year-olds.

This has turned into something like Harry Potter meets the Beatles-mania for a group of teachers and a few friends who have become infatuated with Stephanie Meyer’s offering. My wife is at the lead, and for the past year, it’s all she can think about outside of work.

She passed it off to someone and someone else offered her the second book. She started lapping it up the drippings from a fresh bite when one of the new mush-heads gave her the first book on CD. So while she’s reading the second one, she was listening to the first one on her iPod. She then went to the Barnes & Noble and bought the first and second books in hardback.

In June, Stephanie Meyer came to Kansas City to promote her franchise in advance of the movie coming out. Again, more mush-heads standing in line to get autographs and hear about Bella and Jacob and Edward playing baseball and making their way through high school without biting one another. (Bella’s the girl, by the way, and a whiny one, at that.)

I asked my wife why she needed two or three versions of a book, and she said, “You wouldn’t understand if you haven’t read the books.”

Well, of course I understand. You bought two versions of the same book. One in hardback and one in paperback. What’s not to understand? Then you bought the second one in hardback and the book on CD. Are you seeing a pattern here?

She said she gets something out of listening to the actors. My God, they’re not actors. They’re just people reading the book to you. The book you’ve already read. Twice. She said, “If you don’t read the book you won’t understand.” Of course I understand. There are three books out, and you’ve paid for five copies and are in possession of a pirated version of one other copy.

By the end of the school year, she was doing a Twilight Tuesdays group. Originally, I thought she was sponsoring a book club for her students, something she’s done before with the Harry Potter series. Little did I know, she and two others had been gathering other mush-heads and were scouring the internet for tidbits and theories and discussion groups. Ashley was putting it all together and disseminating the information to her group of adults (no kids) every Tuesday. It had become water cooler, er, teachers’ lounge fare.

Although she claims it only takes “a few minutes” to do, I once clocked her at five hours. She didn’t get to bed until 2:00 a.m. on a school night and a couple of times over the summer, she didn’t get to sleep until after 4:00.

Now, I know that some of you must be thinking “This guy doesn’t want his wife having anything outside of him and the family” and still others must be of the opinion that I need to put my foot down. I’m not going to do that. I choose, instead, to be passive aggressive and write a story about it in the hope that she will someday realize exactly what a mush-head she’s turned into.

Then, in August, all hell broke loose.

For her birthday, usually I plan something ranging from dinner with her Mom, and I’ll do all the cooking to a surprise party with all of her friends (no small feat, I’ll tell you.) This year, all she wanted for her birthday was to be left alone.

Twilight Nerds Unite

The night before her birthday, the fourth (FOURTH!) installment in the series was released. She and three other mush-heads went to pick up “Breaking Dawn” at midnight. They were required to pre-pay for the book, and decided to make a night of it. They made T-shirts which said “Twilight Nerds Unite” on them. Then they went to dinner and showed up at the bookstore along with a thousand other middle school minions and one very exasperated weekends-only Dad who had to numb himself with Jack Daniels and Prozac to get through this experience.

There was a trivia contest. The leader of this three-ring circus passed out nine pages of questions and my wife’s team of teachers won a bag full of candy and shwag from the Twilight franchise. “We CRUSHED them,” she announced to me the next day, with fire in her eye and Starburst wrapper clinging to her neck.

I’m sure the little girls in attendance were disappointed, but it’s hard to beat three adults at trivia when they only missed one question. Even then, Ashley wasn’t satisfied. “I think the question we missed was kind of vague. It could’ve gone either way. When I get some time, I’m going to re-read that chapter and write a letter to the host.”

She had been up all night reading. That’s what she wanted for her birthday. To read. Our twin boys were five, and they had their first big birthday party earlier that year. They understood that on your birthday, you get to do anything you want, go anywhere for dinner and people treat you nicer because it’s your birthday. On that day, their Mom didn’t get out of the chair except to go to the bathroom or to move to the bedroom when it got too noisy. I think she may have had a sandwich.

I took the boys to Sam’s and came back to find her asleep in the chair. We brought everything in through the garage and I popped a pizza in the oven for dinner. She was still reading and dozing as I got the boys to bed. A couple of hours later, I went to bed and she got up and returned to the chair to continue the saga of Bella and Jacob. Apparently they were married now and having sex and everything. Everyone is worried about Bella having a vampire child. They don’t know if she can take it physically. She’s weak. There are theories.

She finished the book in about 40 hours. She took a couple of weeks off from reading anything other than internet blogs and message boards about the movie coming out in November. Her Tuesday Twilight group had grown to a number which was more than 30, I think. It now included my mother-in-law, which I never saw happening, and Ashley’s friend who has a PhD from one of the most respected institutions of higher learning in this country. Ash had suggested it to Dana, who read the first three books over Labor Day weekend and then e-mailed her reaction to the books. “I’ve been reading for three days and I’m tired and horny,” she said in the e-mail.

Wow.

Team Jacob vs. Team Edward
In November, the movie came out. I was told under no circumstance was I to make plans for that Friday night. All the mush-heads made plans to see the 4:25 showing. I asked if she was even going to come home from work. She said, “Yes. I’m going to stop by.” Ashley left the house at 3:00. Her group numbered three dozen, ranging in age from 12 to 63. My mother-in-law wasn’t even the oldest on in the group. There were only four girls under the age of 16.

They made t-shirts. I mean, more t-shirts. They had a printer do them. The ones from the book release were just iron-on things Ashley did at home. That wasn’t good enough. This called for a professional. Team Jacob shirt wearers outnumbered Team Edward shirt wearers by a goodly margin. Apparently, there’s some discrepancy as to whom readers think Bella should be with, Jacob the vampire or Edward the werewolf.

This is some high school they’ve got in Forks, Washington. My high school in Wichita had jocks, nerds, car dudes, and juvenile delinquents. Pretty standard stuff. And I’ve gone through the yearbooks… none of my classmates sparkled in the daylight.

They made gift bags. Girls like that stuff, Ashley said. Everybody donated something for the premier. Ash made bookmarks for everyone. Someone got some pictures to put in the bag. Others got some sparkle stuff that women wear to clubs. Others put in snacks for the movie. I’m pretty sure someone put in an apple because the cover of the book has an apple in the picture. I don’t know why.

I digress. They saw the movie. They laughed. They cried. They pointed out where the movie diverged from the book. They all twittered during the Meyer’s cameo as “Stephanie” during a scene in the diner. Afterward, they all went to have dinner and drinks at a bar close-by to discuss the places where they laughed, the places where they cried, the places where the movie diverged from the book and Meyer’s cameo as “Stephanie” during the diner scene.

About 11:40, Ashley called to check in and let me know they’d be out late. She walked through the door about 3:15. I’d fallen asleep in the recliner and was amazed that it was 3:15, since the bar closed at 1:30. She and Tracy, the other mush-head leader, decided to see the midnight showing of the movie. And just so you don’t think that my wife is the only Twilight nerd out there, I’ll tell you about Tracy.

A few weeks after the movie, or as I like to call it, when life gets back to normal, Ashley asked if I could watch the boys on a Saturday afternoon so she and Tracy could take a group of girls to see the movie. I thought “OK. That’s nice they’re taking a group of girls to see the movie. Yeah, I can do that.”

Tracy called on Sunday morning after Thanksgiving to see if Ashley would like to meet and see the movie. Again. She covered the phone, and asked me if it was OK. “Either today, or next Saturday, not both,” I said. She put the phone back to her ear and said, “Joel’s got plans this afternoon, so I can’t. I’m sorry.” Total lie. And it made me out to be the bad guy. But in my mind, I'd stood up for what was right. And sane.

So, in the world of mush-heads, there’s at least one other who is just as dedicated… er… crazy. I’d like to talk to her husband. Maybe we should start a support group.

The Saturday outing rolled around and Tracy called to let Ashley know that she and the girls were Christmas shopping and they’d like to go to a later show. Ashley asked me if it was OK, as if I had any say in the matter. I just nodded. They adjusted their plans and she hung up. I had to ask why Tracy would take all those girls Christmas shopping. “Just two girls,” Ashley explained.

“She’s letting two girls upset the schedule for all the others?” I asked.

“What others?” she asked.

“You told me you were taking a group of girls to see the movie with Tracy. I assumed it was a group from school or something.”

“No, it’s just two girls.” I delved further, already knowing the answer, and I wasn’t going to like it, but I asked anyway.

“Do they already have T-shirts?” Ashley nodded, confirming my thought that I’d been had and that the two girls were there the night the movie opened.

It’s been nine weeks since the movie opened. It was number one at the box office for one whole week. It met with mixed reviews and even the true fans admit that the special effects suck. The fourth book has been released. You’d think that maybe it would all slow down for the Tuesday Twilight group. There was some question as to whether or not the kid that played Jacob was going to be in the sequel. Apparently, he’s not going to be big enough to play the werewolf or something. Wait… that’s Edward. OK, I’ve got that straight. So there were stories to read and blogs to check out and websites to revisit to get the latest gossip. Gather it all up and send it out to the other mush-heads. More than 90 minutes to do that and we get in bed and she’s reading the last book. Again.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome
Let’s check the score. First book… two copies, one pirated CD, two copies on DVD. Oh, she has it for her Kindle, too. The hardback has been signed by Meyer. She’s seen the movie in theaters three times, although I have a sneaking suspicion that she and Dana saw it again when she was in town for Christmas and she just didn’t want to tell me. She’s read the book twice and listened to it I don’t know how many times. Second book… hardback, CD, DVD, Kindle. She saw it twice the night it opened, and once the night of the DVD release party. Third book… hardback, signed by the author; she’s read it twice, and now has it on Kindle. She'll read it once more before the movie comes out, "just as a refresher." Last book… hardback, and she’s getting ready to finish it for the second time.

We're not addicted. We're enthusiastically devoted
The next installment, "Breaking Dawn," premiered in September, I think. Whatever. The band of mush-heads, numbering about four dozen now, showed up wearing t-shirts, gift bags, the whole nine yards.

One of the local news channels even got wind of it and sent a crew out to the theater. Ashley called me twice on my cell phone, twice on the land line and texted me twice to make sure that I recorded it. I sent her a text with a picture of the DVR schedule so she'd know that indeed, I had done my duty for the night. And the boys are doing just fine, thanks for asking, honey.

Out of morbid curiosity, I watched the newscast. There in high definition is my lovely wife and her merry group of mush-heads wearing still more shirts which say "We're not addicted. We're enthusiastically devoted" on them, along with the Twilight logo. The crew interviews Ashley, who's wearing a Burger King crown with a New Moon promo on it. In fact, so is everyone else. So somewhere there are four dozen little girls who couldn't get a Burger King crown with a New Moon promo on it so these people could have them. OK. Whatever.

By the way, Ashley wouldn't let me delete the newscast off of the DVR for five months.

Will the madness never end?

Apparently, I have the answer. A few weeks ago, the second movie came out on DVD. The merry band of mush-heads got together to watch both movies. Again. I’d already had plans to go to a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, but I was told that I would have to watch the boys that night, as this had been planned for quite some time. “But it’s not on the calendar,” I pointed out. “Plus I asked you if you wanted to go to the fundraiser and you said you would if we could get your Mom to babysit.”

“I must have forgotten,” she said. “We’ve been planning this since November.”

“Since November?” I asked. “When did you start planning it?”

“At Chili’s. We went there for dinner after we saw ‘New Moon.’”

My hand. My forehead. A great SLAP echoes through the dining room and into the kitchen.

“Let me get this straight. You were planning this little shindig after you saw “New Moon” while you were waiting to see it again. Is that about right?”

“Sounds about right,” Ashley replied.

So this is my life. The next installment of the saga, the name of which escapes me, is due in theaters in June. I’m not sure which date in June, but I’ve wiped the weekends clear in June. I’ll be at the house if you want to come hang out with the boys and me.

Tax Day Rant

2010-04-15T06:31:00.000-05:00

I won't gripe about paying taxes. Except the Kansas City Earnings Tax. I think reasonable taxes are fine.

For the first time in quite some time, we did the taxes ourselves. By "we did the taxes ourselves," I mean that I did the taxes. Ashley did her share of the tax work by signing the returns and asking "How much are we getting back?" and "Do you think we ought to take it to H & R Block?" repeatedly.

Like every other form of commerce, tax preparation can be done online. We filed electronically this year. My best estimate is that it added about six hours worth of work to the process.

Since we were e-filing, we had to fill in all the information that is included in the W-2s. Got that done. Didn't like it, but I got it done.

Then I had to re-create Form 8823 for Noncash Charitable Donations. Check.

I filled out the Federal returns and filed electronically, only to be rejected because we needed a specific form for a contribution we made to a non-profit organization. No problem. I went back and attached the form, filling out all the necessary information and re-filed. It was rejected again because the specific form needed a supporting form.

The first one was easy enough. I'll just go back and find the 1098-C form and attach it. After a half hour of looking, I came to the realization that Form 1098-C is not available. No problem.

I'll just print everything and add the form and mail it in. Kickin it old school. That's how I roll.

I couldn't access my returns. My password didn't match. Had I forgotten the password? No way. But I decided to reset the password through the website. Except that it didn't recognize my email address.

Now I was in trouble. I gave up. Time for a beer and a couple of hours not looking at taxes. I stepped away.

When I returned to the computer, I decided to try one more time to access my returns on the website. It worked! All I had to do was print the returns, add the Form 8823 and 1098-C and I was golden.

Time to move on to the state returns. Because I worked in Kansas, I had to pay taxes in Kansas and declare a credit for the state of Missouri where I live. The Kansas form took 25 minutes to fill out. The Missouri form is 16 pages.

I finally got it done. I was done.

Then, and only then, did I realize that Missouri won't allow you to e-file if you exceed a certain income. We exceeded it. And I was back to mailing it in. Old school.

OK... now I'm done.

Not so fast.

We live in Kansas City. I realized that I had to file city taxes too. Kansas City takes 1% off the top. No deductions. No credits. Nothing.

I went to the city website and got the necessary form. This was the biggest pain in the butt during the whole ordeal. Why? It's one page. It's one percent. Why's it such a pain?

Each individual number was in its own box. And the tab key didn't move the cursor to the next box. So putting in the income information wasn't "65327." It was 6 (move the mouse) 5 (move the mouse) 3 (move the mouse) 2 (move the mouse) 7 (move the mouse).

And each of the 14 freaking lines on the form was the same way.

So now I'm down to the wire. I just need to address the envelopes and pray that I have some stamps.

Why I'm an asshole

2010-04-12T14:55:00.001-05:00

Over the years, many times someone has come to me and said, "You're a good person and I love you, but you can be an asshole sometimes." So today, I've been thinking about why.

I think people thinking this of me stems from two possible scenarios. The first happens more often than not; the second is what I'm talking about here.

I have a very dry sense of humor. It's not very often that I set out to say something mean. It's just that some people take what I say way too seriously. It happens often. I don't deny it. I don't understand how the person I've offended doesn't say, "Wait. What does that mean? Are you serious?"

I would. But that's me. I give people the opportunity to explain what they've said. If they're joking, I forgive. If they're not, I give them a chance to apologize. If I've said something to offend someone (it's happened) and I am told they're offended, I like the opportunity to tell them "I'm sorry. It was a joke. And a bad one." If I'm not joking, I tell them why I said what I've said. If they don't like me for it, then it is what it is.

The other scenario occurs when someone acts in such a way I find disappointing. They do something that is despicable. Something that goes beyond decency, and offer no explanation for what they've done. Or worse yet, offer weak explanation for what they've done.

When someone is disloyal, it really makes me mad. When I've done nothing but be there for them, make sacrifices for them, and they do something to deliberately hurt me, it makes me question their very souls.

When my former friends and employees took over the space that used to house Kyle's Tap Room, the bar I owned for six years, it hurt me incredibly. If any one of them had been forced out of business as I had by an unscrupulous landlord, I would have helped them get even, not sign a lease agreement and gone into business using the equipment my friend couldn't remove. They are creating a business from what I was forced to leave behind. They never came to talk to me about it until they'd signed the lease. Even though they knew the landlord's actions cost me my life's savings and six years of work, they decided the best thing to do was go into business at no cost to them. My friendship and loyalty wasn't worth doing the right thing.

And now, another instance of someone behaving in such a way, that I find unforgivable recently happened. (This would be the example of the "weak" explanation for what they've done.)

I really take offense when someone lets another person down and justifies their action with their own personal problem. I've seen it happen when relationships break down when one is going through a tough time. Illness, money problems, unemployment... they're all part of being in a relationship. I've seen too many people abandon their significant other when they're going through a tough time. The explanation being, "I have my own problems to work out. I can't be there for you."

Usually the problem they need to work on is significantly less problematic than what the other is facing. The one leaving the relationship is the weak one. The one who needs to lean on the other in trying times is the stronger of the two and asks for nothing more than a little support.

But they get none. It makes me want to lash out at them, but in this case I can't. I'm not close enough this time to take the person aside and tell him what a jackass he's being. If telling him he's a sorry excuse for a human being makes me an asshole, so be it. I won't lose any sleep over it. How could I? I only sleep four hours a night.

These things make me question the moral fiber of some people. It makes me realize that some people truly have no souls. In some small way, however, it makes me want to be a better person, because I know that sometimes people don't get the support they need when they need it the most. It makes me want to be there for them, as I wish people would be there for me when I need it. Know this: If we are friends, I'll never betray you. You can always count on me to help, if I can.

Anyway... if you're reading this, and you've ever thought I was an asshole because of something I've said, it's one of two things. Either I was joking with you and you didn't get it, or you did something I would NEVER do because my Dad would kick the shit out of me for behaving that way.

If it's the first, we can talk about it and I'll probably apologize. If it's the second, you can talk to my Mom and she'll kick the shit out of you.

Taking stock of how time flies

2010-04-02T06:23:00.000-05:00

I never really understood the expression "Time flies," but I'm getting a true sense of it lately.

My sons just turned seven this week. Only yesterday I was holding them in one hand. They were born seven weeks premature, as many twins are, and Aidan at a 4 pounds, 13 ounces had trouble keeping his body temperature up. They wanted to keep him in a warmer and Ashley was so upset that he couldn't stay in the room with us. Tristan was fine, but we thought it best to keep them together, since they had only known being together.

They both fit easily in the same incubator. Wrapped in blankets, wearing little hats. You'd certainly never know today that they were undersized. They're both over 4 feet 5 inches tall. Aidan weighs a little more than 90 pounds. We throw a baseball in the front yard every day and I can't believe how quickly time has passed since we had to keep him in a little heated bed to keep him warm.

April 1st holds special significance for my family. Ashley's brother, Kyle, and two of his friends were in a car wreck on that date nine years ago. They were killed coming around a dark curve on their way home. It's so sad. I wonder if this day will ever just be another day for Ashley and her Mom. I doubt that it will.

The mothers of the boys still get together every year to maintain the monument on the highway. Not simply a marker, there are three crosses on the side of the road bearing the names of Jeff, Kyle and Jason surrounded by flowers which come up every year to remind us of the life that each lost. On significant days such as birthdays, their friends still take balloons or write notes to them.

I didn't know Kyle that well, but in the years that we had the bar which we named Kyle's Tap Room, many of his friends came in and told me how much they missed him. I got to know Kyle through their stories. I've never heard anyone say a bad thing about Kyle. Not once.

As for myself, I remember his laugh, most of all. Aidan, who looks like his uncle (A LOT) and carries the middle name Kyle, also laughs like him. I don't know if it's a comfort or disturbing to Ashley, but I think it's probably a nice reminder of her lost brother.

Another reminder of how time goes by is my fast-approaching 25 year high school reunion. I've never been to a reunion. I don't think we had a 5-year, I didn't know about the 10-year until it was too late, since I somehow was on the "lost" list and never received notification of it. I'm not sure if we even had a 15-year, or a 20-year, but we probably did, and honestly, I probably wouldn't have gone anyway.

But a funny thing has happened between 2005 and 2010. It's called Facebook. Maybe you've heard of it.

It's made me start caring about the people I lost track of when we left South High. Once again, I know a little bit about the daily lives of the people I went to school with, whether it's the small dramas or common successes that make up our days. I know about the big struggles, too... relationships, unemployment, family, health. A lot of them, I can speak with on a daily basis through comments about each others' posts. And it's like not a day has passed and we're seeing each other walking through the hall on our way to class.

It's nice to be able to reconnect with people who I lost to time. I can't believe it's been 25 years, and that we're in our early 40s. I remember when that seemed old.

I think the mind has a way of playing tricks on you. When you're in the moment, you don't realize how much time has gone by. Those moments add up almost imperceptibly, until you are forced to take stock of those moments as the passage of time.

In my mind, wondering how we're going to produce a 12-page newspaper every other week is high drama, Kyle is laughing hysterically at something on the TV in his room, and Aidan and Tristan will always be those little guys who ate two ounces at a time.

Memories are funny things.

What I learned playing catch

2010-03-20T06:59:00.000-05:00

I put this in my Facebook profile a couple of weeks ago. It may be an old adage, or a variation of one, or it may be something I just made up. In the last two weeks, I realize how true it is.

"The more I become like my parents, the better I like myself."

I like simple things now. A fire outside on the patio. Cooking out. Having a beer with friends. A memory long forgotten, brought back by a song on the radio. Here's one that I never really considered until the recent bout of warm weather...

Playing catch.

It's so simple. And I don't mean to get all "Field of Dreams" on everybody, but bear with me. (That was a beautiful thing, though, at the end. Makes me cry every time.)

When he's in the mood, Tristan will join Aidan and me outside to play. He's more difficult to play catch with, for a few different reasons, most of which stem from his autism. He has a VERY short attention span. Shiny things and squirrels and cars and the dog and sticks and grass and rocks and dirt and other things all tax his concentration. He likes to play, but it seems like he always wonders about doing something else.

He gets frustrated when he doesn't do something well. He doesn't get very far away because he wants to catch and throw every ball just right. When he misses, or more accurately, when I fail to make it land squarely in his glove, he lets out a little scream while he's chasing after it. But when he catches the ball, he has an absolutely priceless look on his face. He gets a little too close to throw the ball back, and I've taken a few unfortunate hits, but he's fun to watch.

Aidan, however, is my catch-playing partner. We've been playing every day since it got warm. We even play in the morning while we're waiting for the bus. I can't help but think about Ralphie's kid brother in "A Christmas Story" who can't move his arms while I'm watching Aidan try to throw while wearing a winter coat. But he's so eager to play catch whenever we can, even in the cold.

He's hard to teach because he's left-handed, but like everything else, he's good at it. He can really throw pretty hard. He doesn't catch particularly well yet, because he's just a little bit afraid of the ball. I think he's got "pitcher" written all over him.

Most of the time, we don't talk, and there's a rhythm that we get into, and it's just nice to watch him. He uncorks a wild one every now and then and we have to crawl into the bushes to get it. Or he'll miss one and has to chase it into the street.

Occasionally, he asks questions and a few days ago, he came up with one that is really the point of this whole story. "Did you play catch with your Dad, Daddy?"

His question made me stop what I was doing for a moment. I hold my Dad in high regard, and I learned a lot from him, but my Dad was a long-haul trucker when I was a kid.

I held the ball when I answered his question so Aidan would fully understand. "We played catch sometimes, but Grandma Shirley was who really taught me to play catch."

"Gramma Shirley played catch?" he said, his voice getting really high on the end, as it is prone to do when he's surprised by something.

"You bet. She was really good. And she was a good teacher," I said.

"Do you think Gramma Shirley will play catch with me next time we're in Wichita?"

The thought of that made me laugh. "Suuuure, buddy. Grandma Shirley would LOVE play catch with you."

Sorry, Mom.

Oh. And thanks.

It's never good when you hear these words: "Honey, I think we need to paint"

2010-03-11T11:10:00.000-06:00

Nothing can help you feel better about your home than new paint. The problem is... I hate to paint. I'd rather move than paint.

Ashley decided to paint one night while I was at work a while back and our living room and hallway has been green for seven years. The dining room and kitchen are greenish. I think the little sample thing said it was "Rubbed Sage." But the green of the living room can best be described as "Sports Bar Green."

It's dark. Really dark. It's always been a challenge to get any light in the room. Think about the most popular color to paint the Man Cave to make it look most like a bar and you've got it.

It's been scarred from seven years of twin boys being here. There's some patching to be done. We also have chosen not to put any kind of decor on the walls because the boys, until recently, would have sacrificed any art to the HGTV gods. The same cannot be said for the boys, as they went through a very prolific period of putting their own brand of artwork on the walls from ages 3-6. As we trust them now to not to leave their mark, Ashley has determined a change is needed.

We (and by "we" I mean "Ashley by herself") picked out a cream color to paint the paint the living room. I think the paint name is the not so cool "Alabaster." We (remember?) chose it instead of Vanilla Sugar, Euchre, Ivory Glow, Honeybutter, Deep Cowslip, Cottage Linen, Haystack and Homestead Resort Cream. This accounts for about one-quarter of the colors we were considering.

Who knew there were so many different names for cream? They all look alike, till you put them next to each other. If I held up one, then another, you'd swear I was holding up the same color sample. It's kind of like being at the eye doctor and sitting through the whole "Which is better... A or B?" thing he does. Except this time it's Ashley and she's holding up little beige squares. Like I'm supposed to know which will go better with our furniture and rug.

Since we're changing from a very dark green to a very warm cream, I'm guessing we (from here on out, "we" means "Joel alone") will have to put up one coat of primer and two coats of paint. The other cool thing is that I have to do ALL the taping because I can reach the ceiling without a step ladder. To top it off, I get to refinish the TV armoire. But Ashley is unsure will make the cut in the living room, but she just wants to see what it will look like darker to better match the end tables. It may be relegated to the basement, which by the way, we (remember?) will refinish this summer.

We can't wait to get started.

Ramblings from a sleep deprived person about sleep deprivation

2010-03-07T06:43:00.000-06:00

Since our twins were born (almost seven years ago), it's a rare occurrence that I sleep more than five hours a night. I've justified it by saying "I just don't need as much" or "I've got things to do" or the oft-quoted line from Road House, "I'll get enough sleep when I'm dead."

I think I've grown accustomed to little sleep. There have been segments of my life that sleep was a commodity in short supply.

Anyone who has been to grad school knows how little sleep you can survive on. We wore it as a badge of honor. A typical conversation was "You look horrible. How much sleep did you get?" "About seven hours." "You got seven hours last night?" "No. I got seven hours so far this week."

When I moved to Kansas City after grad school, I had no responsibilities and a good job with a lot of friends in the same situation. It was very unusual to get home before midnight and there were many occasions when I left the bar when the bartender did.

For six years, we owned a bar and I worked nights. We had the boys and Ashley worked days. I got used to hitting the rack at 2 a.m. or later and getting up at 6:30 when Ashley left for work and I had to be up with the boys.

But now, I don't have to survive on that little sleep. The serious side effect are lack of patience and of course, the health concerns associated with getting less sleep than you should. I'd like to be able to sack out for seven hours, but I just can't. On the weekend, my wife can sleep until I wake her. Yesterday she slept 11 hours. I'm jealous.

It may come down to the fact that the early morning hours are my own. I don't fight for computer time. I catch up on the news and scores. I can linger for a while on Facebook. I search through Twitter to see if there is anything I should be reading not covered by more traditional news media. I write my blog if the feeling hits.

It's nice and quiet in the house. The only noise is the sporadic clickety clack of me typing. It just takes so long to write anything because I yawn so hard my eyes water. I just need a little pick me up. Looks like I picked the wrong time to quit caffeine.

Guys Weekend - Gambling, Booze, Strippers and Hockey... What More Could You Want?

2010-03-05T15:02:00.000-06:00

My wife got me a great birthday present this year. Ashley and Kerri, my buddy Jim's wife, made plans before Thanksgiving to send us to St. Louis for a hockey game. Jim's birthday is a week before mine and he's a big Blues fan, too. They got us tickets, made hotel reservations and sent us out for Guys Weekend.

When we found out, it was all we talked about. Guys Weekend was going to be filled with poker, booze, cigars and strip clubs. We joked about how anything that happened in St. Louis stayed in St. Louis.

I think that's what separates guys in their twenties from guys in their forties. We didn't do anything even remotely like that.

Don't get me wrong... we drank a lot, but we didn't puke in a parking lot. We ate crap all weekend. White Castle for lunch on the way in; chili dogs and beer at the hotel Happy Hour before the game. The healthiest thing we ate was nachos, I think.

We even went completely the opposite way of any Guys Weekend when we escorted a lady and her son from the hotel to the arena. They were from Indiana and it was the kid's first NHL game, first time in St. Louis. She asked if they could walk with us. She was a little worried that maybe something would happen, not knowing that the area around the arena is probably the safest spot in the entire city on game night.

No problem, we said, in essence violating every Guys Weekend rule about gentlemanly conduct.

The Blues won big over the Rangers and we hit an Irish bar to celebrate. A DJ started cranking out dance tunes and we left, what with all the women dancing and all. We headed to the casino.

We played poker until the wee hours. I drank till last call. The chili dogs disagreed with Jim and he quit drinking much earlier. (What a girl!) We were definitely more sober than our cab driver who kept moving into turn lanes that were actually oncoming traffic.

We only slept about four hours and made it to a poker tournament across town. The drive back to Kansas City involved a lot of caffeine and sunflower seeds to keep us awake.

All in all, it was a good weekend, albeit a pretty tame one. We're pretty sure we need to make it an annual birthday event. Maybe in your forties, that's what you need instead of craziness. We don't have to tell the wives it wasn't the wild weekend we made it out to be. But I think they have their suspicions, though.

They're asking to go next year.

I know it's just corn, but it's been on my mind

2010-03-04T09:45:00.000-06:00

Ashley and I have been reading about the evils of canned foods. We're trying to take better care to eat right and save money where we can. I didn't really think I'd turn into one of THOSE people, but this is probably going to stick. If this kind of diatribe annoys you, don't read it because I'd hate to think I lost a friend over corn, but here goes.

Cost Last week, we bought a 5 lb. bag of frozen corn at Sam's for $4.00 or something like that. A case of eight cans of Green Giant is about $10.00. This is by no means scientifically deciphered, but I'm guessing that's a saving of about half.
Winner... frozen.

Nutrition I looked up the nutrition information today. I didn't know if the corn we get is brine packed or whole kernel drained, solid, but... sheesh... whatever. The canned stuff was 15 more calories per serving. Everything else seemed to be negligible.
Winner... frozen.

The Kicker Wait... I probably need to mention sodium. THIS IS THE KICKER. Frozen corn has 1 mg of sodium while the canned stuff has 273 mg. I've never been one to worry about sodium, but everyone is telling me I should so I'm making this one of the factors by which I judge my future corn purchases.
Winner... frozen.

Hold it. What about taste?
Glad you asked. Frozen corn tastes A LOT better. The texture is better too. It's not mushy, which makes it more versatile in recipes. Any time I've tried to make anything with canned corn as an ingredient, I've been disappointed.

In the comparison between frozen and canned corn, I haven't seen any reason, other than nuclear apocalypse, to keep buying the canned stuff. I'm trying to come up with something snarky or funny with which to end this blog, but there's nothing really funny about corn.

Seven years of college down the drain

2010-02-26T11:09:00.000-06:00

It seems like just a funny line out of "Animal House," but I'm living it right now. I never thought a master's degree would hinder my job search, but I'm beginning to realize that it may be doing just that.

I've talked to several human resources people, and several have made comments about being "overqualified" or "out of our salary range" and I've had to practically beg for an interview.

I'm almost to the point where I want to lie on my resume, but that really presents a moral and ethical dilemma. If I only say that I have a bachelor's degree, that could open a few more doors, but if a company that hires me discovers the lie, I could be terminated.

The problem is that I'm at a serious crossroads in my career path. I've got experience in my chosen profession, but I took a few years off to pursue other interests. Now I want back in, but some prospective employers have thought that my skills are rusty or outdated. There are those who think that I would have higher salary demands.

I have seven years of top quality education, and I'm sitting on the sidelines and my most productive years are in danger of being wasted. I don't know what to do. There's a faint voice, coming from far away.

"Toga... toga... toga..."

Pad Thai recipe

2010-02-22T11:57:00.001-06:00

I’ve experimented with a couple of Pad Thai recipes and I’ve come up with that hits the sweet, sour and spicy notes that I love about Pad Thai. You can make this as spicy or as tame as you wish, simply by adding to the recipe, or taking away the hot stuff. It will still be good.

Ingredients

2 or 3 chicken breasts, depending on si
1 package rice noodles
6 Tbsp fish sauce - This is essential. I found a 16 oz bottle for $3 at a grocery store.
5 Tbsp rice wine vinegar - this adds the sour or acidic flavor
6 Tbsp soy sauce - I use the low sodium soy sauce
2 Tbsp sugar
3 Tbsp creamy peanut butter
2 Tbsp Sriracha sauce - This is completely optional. I keep it around all the time and use it instead of Tabasco. It has a much better flavor and adds good heat.
Lime - juiced
Crushed red pepper - to taste
Ginger - about 3 inches, grated
Garlic - 5 cloves, minced
Red bell pepper, julienned
Cabbage - I use Napa, but green or red cabbage will do. It adds texture. Whichever you use, slice it thin. Use as much or as little as you want, but I always use a lot.
Green onions - a whole bunch, lop off the white part and dice them. Coarse cut the green part
2 eggs beaten
Shrimp - a small package of salad shrimp will do, but you can use any kind
Peanuts - crushed

Prep the Chicken

I start off by baking the chicken breasts. It takes about 45 minutes if you use the IQF breasts, or 20 minutes if they’re already thawed. You can do this whenever you have time and set aside the breasts so they’re easier to handle. Slice the chicken fairly thin.

Make the Sauce

In a small bowl, add fish sauce, rice wine vinegar, sugar, peanut butter, soy sauce, Sriracha sauce, lime juice and crushed red pepper. Stir with a fork until peanut butter is liquefied. Set aside.

Prep the Vegetables

Grate the ginger. Mince the garlic. Julienne the bell peppers. Dice the white parts of the green onions. Slice the cabbage.

Make the Noodles

Boil water in a saucepan big enough for the rice noodles. When water boils, remove from heat and add noodles. Let them soak for 8 minutes and drain.

Heat the Wok

I recommend wok oil. You can use vegetable oil, but I don’t recommend olive oil because the temperature gets too high. Let it get good and hot. Medium high (7 or 8 setting) for a good 10 minutes to get it hot enough.

Note: Don’t worry if you don’t have a wok. Use a dutch oven or big saute pan.

Putting the Pad Thai together

1. Add ginger, garlic, red bell pepper and white parts of the onions and saute for a minute or so. Then push this up the side of the wok to get away from direct heat.

2. Add beaten eggs and cook all the way through. Then slice up the eggs and combine with vegetables.

Key: Cook the eggs without getting anything in them if possible. This keeps the eggs from acting as a thickening agent and lets them do what they’re supposed to do; keep everything separated.

3. Add cabbage and green onions.

4. Add chicken, shrimp and noodles and combine.

Key: You can make it spicier by adding crushed red pepper here.

5. Add sauce and combine. Keep the whole thing moving to marry all the flavors.

Serve

Add some crushed peanuts. This adds texture and flavor.

This will serve four with enough for leftovers. Making Pad Thai is fairly involved, but it will go easy and quickly if you prep everything beforehand. The second time you make it, you’ll knock it out it no time.

Writer's Block

2010-01-26T12:37:00.000-06:00

I've had writer's block for a while now.

Going on 10 years now, I guess.

I never realized my goal to be a copywriter at an advertising agency. What got in the way? First, a job making real money. The comfort that comes from making real money. Second, self-employment. It seems to suck everything out of you.

Now I'm to the point where I have to go after my goal. When I graduated, I want to become a copywriter. I guess, however, now I'll be the "world's oldest rookie copywriter."

The good news is that I took my stripped down portfolio to a creative director and he had some nice things to say about my work. He challenged me to write a campaign for a very specific and very odd product. It is one that will definitely differentiate my portfolio from those coming out of school and looking for work as a copywriter. So I took his challenge.

It will push my creativity to the very limits. Do I go over-the-top with it and focus on building a creative message? Or do I concentrate on building a coherent campaign that could be used by the client?

It will challenge my business sense because I've always been a proponent of pushing the creative edge just so far. It's a business, after all, and I want to show a prospective employer that I take it very seriously.

With this product, I can go over the top funny. But it's a very serious product which solves a very serious problem.

You definitely want to know what the product is. Don't you?

It's a drug called Guardian that cattle ranchers give to cows to prevent Scours Disease, which is cow diarrhea. This is a real problem that affects real families. Some have lost as much as half of their herd to this disease. You'd think this campaign would just write itself, but it only serves to bring up in me this concept of creativity for the sake of creativity versus creativity for the sake of business. I've got to figure out how to get this done in a way that proves my creative chops.

But first, I have to deal with this problem.

I've had writer's block for the last 10 years.

It's like Captain Crunch, but it makes you poop

2009-10-21T12:36:00.000-05:00

My wife and I have been trying to work out regularly and eat better. Both of these things are challenging, but doable.

I refuse to eat Shredded Wheat. Dennis Wolfberg's stand up routine ruined me for Fiber One, calling it a "nuclear laxative in a box." We've tried a couple of the Kashi cereals, and what they lack in flavor, they make up for in health benefits of regularity. It's not that they lack flavor, it's just that they don't taste like cereal did when we were kids. Remember how good Count Chocula was? Or the best part of Fruity Pebbles... the milk at the end? Oh, yeah.

As I was walking down the cereal/snack food/cleaning supply/car tire aisle at Sam's Club yesterday, I saw a Kashi offering which I hadn't seen. It is called "Honey Sunshine" and looks like Cap'n Crunch. I took a chance.

It's really pretty good. It doesn't have the same SNAP, since that shiny, sugar lacquer finish (non-nutritive food varnish in Griswold-speak) associated with Cap'n Crunch is probably not something the organically-minded Kashi wants to include in its cereal. Is it wrong to miss that raw, mangled feeling in the roof of your mouth when you eat Cap'n Crunch? The trade off is having to go to the bathroom once or twice more a day and the raw feeling associated with it. (Yes, I know it's gross, but it's true.)

In cereal, as in life, there are trade-offs. While the cereal is cheaper at Sam's, I'll end up spending a little more to buy a box of the Cap'n Crunch just to dig out the Crunchberries.

Listen up Royals Fans

2009-10-08T12:51:00.000-05:00

As a dyed in the wool, lifelong Cardinals fan and longtime resident of Kansas City, I think the time has come for me to drop a little knowledge on you.

The Cardinals don't consider the Royals rivals. Mostly they look at it as a chance to rest a few of their regulars. Honestly, I don't see how the players get geared up to play those games. They really don't mean anything. There's no chance they'll see them in the World Series, and probably won't see any of them at the All Star Game, except Zack Greinke.

Here's a little more knowledge. The only reason a Cardinals fan circles those games on the calendar is because they can drive to Kansas City, get a hotel room for two nights, eat out for two days, and see two ballgames for the price of seeing the same teams play twice in St. Louis.

And, to be completely honest, no one in St. Louis really wants to go to the Royals games. There's only a one in four chance they'll get to see anyone who's any good. (Greinke).

When the Cardinals beat the Tigers in 2006, I took a lot of abuse from Royals fans at my bar. They rooted for the Mets. They rooted for the Tigers. I had no one to celebrate with when the Redbirds earned their victory on that Friday night. I just drank a celebratory Irish Car Bomb and took a couple of phone calls from family members.

Of course, now I'm hearing the grumblings once again. Royals fans, who have no vested interest in the Dodgers, are rooting for them because they're playing the Cardinals. I can understand a Cubs fan suddenly becoming a Dodger fan because there's a rivalry. I do that myself, rooting for any team that plays the Broncos, or any team that plays Missouri.

But I can't understand the Royals' fan mentality when it comes to the Cardinals. 1985 was a long time ago. Concentrate on winning the weakest division in baseball, then maybe you can talk smack.

Go Cardinals.

Apparently some of my favorite movies are chick flicks

2009-10-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

I'm one of those guys that can watch certain movies over and over again. The Quiet Man, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Animal House, Field of Dreams... just to name a few. Friends and I call those movies "Saturday Afternoon Must Sees." Those are the movies that you'll watch, no matter if they're on a movie channel or edited and on cable. I'll still watch it, even if I have it on DVD.

The other day, my wife said something that surprised me, especially when I realized that it was true for myself. She said all men have one or two chick flicks that they will watch every time they are on. When she pointed out that several of the movies that I watch are chick flicks, I was taken aback.

"Really?" I asked. I make fun of her for watching the weepy chick flick crap when I come in from cleaning the garage, working in the yard, or some other manly task. "Which of my Must See Movies are chick flicks?"

So then she started to list them and we had a little argument... errr... debate about why these movies are, indeed, chick flicks. I think I proved my point on a couple of them, but mostly, I think I lost.

P.S. I Love You
This movie has been in heavy rotation on HBO. It stars Gerard Butler and Hilary Swank as a married couple. He dies of cancer, but manages to send her a series of letters to help her cope with his passing. I watch it because it has some great shots of Ireland, some good Irish music and a great supporting cast.

I lost because Holly spends a lot of time with her friends (Gina Gershon and Lisa Kudrow) and has a contentious but solid relationship with her mother. With the help of Gerry's letters, Holly also meets the man who could be her next great love, played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, employing the worst Irish accent since Brad Pitt in "Snatch." We also see Morgan's naked ass, which, my wife says, is enough to qualify this as a chick flick to the nth degree.

If Lucy Fell
This is an indie flick, written and directed by Eric Schaeffer, who also stars as an ultra hip artist name Joe. He and his roommate and best friend, played by cute, pre-Sex & the City Sarah Jessica Parker (no longer cute) enter into a death pact. They will jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if they don't have serious relationship potential by the time they reach 30. Lucy meets flavor of the month artist Bwick (played by Ben Stiller when he could still act). Joe finally works up the courage to ask his neighbor, Jane (played by the incredibly beautiful and underdressed, in at least one scene, Elle Macpherson.)

The soundtrack is great, the writing is sharp, Schaeffer and Stiller are hilarious. There even a scene about one of Lucy's dates having a bowel movement. Macpherson is nearly naked and talking dirty to Joe. That's enough for me to be safe in liking this movie.

I lost because in the end, Joe and Lucy discover that they are in love and do not have to go through with the death pact. Any movie where best friends figure out they love each other is the basis for a chick flick, my wife said.

For Love of the Game
Another baseball movie for Kevin Costner, who plays aging pitcher Billy Chapel. He's pitching in Yankee Stadium on the last day of a difficult season. He's just been informed that the Tigers have been sold, and that he'll be traded next year. The manager wants some hotshot rookie to catch him, but Billy tells the manager he won't pitch unless Gus (played by John C. Reilly) is doing the catching.

Costner pitches a perfect game and tells the owner he's hanging up his spikes. So there's a lot of baseball, dude loyalty and Yankee hating. That's enough to save this from the chick flick label, I think.

I lost because, and Ashley had to point this out, there's more time devoted to the developing love story between Billy and Jane, played by Kelly Preston. I guess I kind of blocked all that out, like those scenes are commercials during the game. The clincher of her argument was that the final scene had Billy going to the airport to fly to London to be with Jane. "That's the whole point of the movie," she said. "They just disguised the love story with baseball so guys would take their wives and girlfriends to see it."

Crap. At least I've still got Braveheart.

The Big Fella's Blogs

Jambalaya recipe

My Letter to Claire McCaskill

Two Birds, One Stone

A Man's Man's Advice to His Wife

Open Letter to My Dad

Breaking up

Cardinals back their way in to the playoffs? Go ^%*&# yourself

Thoughts About 9/11 and the 10th Anniversary

Owning a bar rules

Dealing with Heat and Humidity in the Old West

Help Wanted: Problem Solver. Apply at KCPL.

Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

Like a lot of people, we're on the "Don't Call List." But there is one company calling us every three or four days promising to lower our credit card rates. We don't have credit cards.

The call comes in with a recorded message. "Rachel" (if indeed that is her real name) informs us that they can lower our rate if only we will press 1 to talk to a representative.

After several times just hanging up on this call from 513-417-0498, I decided to press 1 to ask them not to call. When I asked the rep to remove the number from the list. He said, "He wants the number removed from the list?" in the form of a question.

Then he hung up.

The next time, I asked the name of the company... she immediately hung up. My Spidey senses told me I may be dealing with a scammy company. I filed a complaint with the FCC.

The next time they called, I pressed one and played along for a little bit, then asked the name of the company. The rep said, "Why do you need to know that? We're gonna lower your rate. Give me your credit card numbers."

I hung up and filed another FCC complaint. At the end of the form, after name and phone number, there was a box that said "Execute?"

You may think it extreme, but I started looking for the "Hell YES" box. Shit, I've told them three times not to call. Eventually, I just marked it and hit SEND. No sense being obstinate.

18 Reasons to Carry Nunchucks in Kansas City

Observations from a poker road trip

Addressing the Midlife Crisis

Kansas City Traffic Rants

My new blog project

Breaking the Rules on St. Patrick's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Please Enjoy the Music

More on Irish Music - The Waterboys

The Contradictions of St. Patrick's Day

Open Letter to My Wife on Valentine's Day

This Ad Makes Smoking Look Cool

The Cornstarch Incident

Halloween with Obama

Gay marriage? Go for it.

My Sports List May Be a Little Skewed

President Pants on Fire said there would be no new taxes for the middle class

My Plan to Pay Down the National Debt

Isn't this a little excessive for the Gladstone Applebee's?

I'm outraged by all the outrage

Vacation - Omaha - A Zoo is Just a Zoo

Vacation Day Five - Top 10 Things to Do in Pierre, SD

Vacation Day Four - Monuments, History and Smelly Animals in the Black Hills

Vacation - Day Three - Deadwood and a little poker

Vacation - Day Two - Nature's Majesty and Tourist Shlock

Vacation- Day One - How many more miles is it?

Hummus Recipes

Comparing John Wayne and John Wooden

What a Drag It Is Getting Old

The Mother's Day Diatribe

I'm Gonna Live Forever

Thinking of You

My Wife Has Entered The Twilight Zone

Tax Day Rant

Why I'm an asshole

Taking stock of how time flies

What I learned playing catch

It's never good when you hear these words: "Honey, I think we need to paint"

Ramblings from a sleep deprived person about sleep deprivation

Guys Weekend - Gambling, Booze, Strippers and Hockey... What More Could You Want?

I know it's just corn, but it's been on my mind

Top 10 Stories from the Vancouver Olympics

Seven years of college down the drain

Pad Thai recipe

Writer's Block

It's like Captain Crunch, but it makes you poop

Listen up Royals Fans

Apparently some of my favorite movies are chick flicks