The Unofficial Rules of Cover Songs

I'm kinda mad at my seventh favorite band. Yeah, I said seventh favorite band. I rank my bands. I could do it off the top of my head right now. You got a problem with that? Being in touch with my inner feelings for a band helps me decide how far I am willing to drive to see them. So, I keep a mental file which we shall call the personal band ranking (PBR).

I may have OCD.

Coincidentally, PBR is also what the kids drink at the clubs where the bands play (Pabst Blue Ribbon).

For example, said band is a ska/punk band named Reel Big Fish. Nothing to do with Squeek the Fish. A couple of years ago, I drove almost 4 hours, to Pittsburgh to see them. Back then, they were my third favorite band.

Why the drop in their Personal Band Ranking? Well, for one, they are quite vulgar. Holy shit, are they vulgar as hell. But what really did it to me? They violated one of the unofficial rules of cover songs.

I know it's tough creativity-wise for artists to come up with new material. But, I'm sorry, I hate when a band plays another song originally created by another band. It's kind of like being a vulture, except for the eating the raw road kill and the flying away when a car drives by and the weird bald head thing. With the exception of those things, it's just like being a vulture because one band is pilfering the creativity that another band killed when it struck it with its pickup truck. I wish there were no such thing as a cover song, but there is. So, now I'll wish that bands would follow some basic guidelines. You know what's coming next, don't you? Yeah, it's the guidelines all right:

One cover song per album, please

My favorite album by Rage Against The Machine was Renegades. Ear candy. Know why? It's all cover songs. So, making a product better gets you less style points than making it good the first time around. Ask the drug companies. That's why they have patents that last 17 years. I got a chubby when I heard Reel Big Fish was coming out with a new album January 20th. Ya know what? The album, which can be sampled by clicking here, ha, fooled ya, by clicking here, is nothing but covers. Poo on that! Bands should be limited to one cover song per album. Especially in the ska genre, where it's exceedingly cute and popular to cover old 80's songs. Case in point, RBF's new album features songs originally by Tom Petty, The Eagles and Quiet Riot, which leads to the next rule.

Don't cover songs that were monumentally cool or silly as hell

I'm sorry, I consider Quiet Riot's Mama We're All Crazy Now to be one of those songs that should be granted immunity from being covered, because it was just that cool. Still is, 20+ years later. Conversely, if Fall Out Boy wasn't silly to begin with, they are even sillier for covering Michael Jackson's Beat It. I need to stop there because I am getting emotional. Even The King of Pop gets immunity, that's all I'm sayin'...

Cover songs are less stupid when they cross musical genres

Okay, Beat It aside, it's somewhat intriguing when a band totally different than the original covers a song. Save Ferris' rendition of Come on Eileen is rather cool because the of the presence of the horns that were absent in the original version. But come on, Faith No More covering black Sabbath's War Pigs? What the big whoop? Both are heavy metal bands with a nutsack for a vocalist. Just seems like history repeating itself, which personally, I've had enough of.

Reel Big Fish is coming to a club in Cincinnati of January 15th. I am thinking about personally boycotting the show. So, I am probably not going. And if I do go, which I probably will, I won't enjoy myself as much as I would normally would because they violated these rules of cover songs. And that's very unfortunate because I am SO THERE.

Finis

I can't just sit here and not express my gratitude...

Now hopefully, moving on to a poo-unrelated subject.

Sqeek the Fish is OK

I received good news from the fine folks at Tetra. Squeek is going to be just fine.


This is the best Christmas EVER!

I never thought an email containing the word "mucousy" would make me so happy.

Squeek The Fish Has an Intestinal Problem

In the last episode of Mick's Domestic Animal Kingdom, Mick rescued the two family fish from certain death when the cat tipped their bowl over.

The cat has since been castrated and things now seem to be going quite smoothly, except when he poops on the couch in protest.

Goldie, the goldfish has recovered completely. But, Squeek, the Black Moor has since encountered problems controlling his bowels. I thought this to be a one-time effect after his Near Fishy Death Experience (NFDE), but it seems the problem is here to stay...


Geez.

I wanna reach in there and yank it off of him. But, I'm afraid I might pull out his large intestine. I especially feel bad for him because fish supposedly have a three second memory, which means he thinks "Oh man, I have a huge string of poo hanging off me!" and then he forgets about and then thinks "Oh, man, I have a huge string of poo hanging off me!" and then he forgets about it...

Whelp, you can't tell from the photo, but some of his fully four inches of fishy-poo is colored white, which for my European friends, means "coloured white".

This begs the question; "What about Squeek's diet causes him to have some brown colored poo and some white colored poo? He eats the same damn thing every day. No?

Here at The Aquademic Institute of Fish Poo Studies, we ask the tough questions about fish poo and we courageously seek answers to those questions using a protocol we like to call Fish Poo Follow-Through.

So, we contacted the manufacturer of Squeek's fish food, Tetra via their online feedback.

We submitted the question: "My Black Moor (Squeek) has HUGE dangling fish poo, like 4 inches. Wow! Why is some white? It seems that would uncomfortable for him, wouldn't it?"

They didn't answer. But, we at the Aquademic Institute don't give up that easy. So, we emailed them again, posing a more legit-sounding question:

"Hi, I sent you an email about my Black Moor's white and voluminous poop. I'm wondering if it's the food. I am worried it is making him sick and I need to switch to another brand. Thanks, Mike."

And we anxiously await their reply.

I'll see your drunk fan and raise you a QB!

Tattletales: NFL teams ask for text messages about rowdy fans

By Chris Chase

Drunk and unruly fans are a huge problem in NFL stadiums. Between the drinking, the cursing, the fights, the cursing, the stumbling and the cursing, NFL games provide as much of a kid-friendly atmosphere as a night out with Plaxico Burress. But now, NFL teams think they have developed a technique to curb boorish, abusive behavior at games: tattling.

At 29 of the NFL's 32 stadiums, fans can now send a text message to report disorderly conduct of nearby fans. The texts are received by stadium security, who address the situation and determine if the offending fan should receive a warning or ejection.

Awesome! I love passive aggression. It's so much easier than aggressive aggression.

But I envision something even better; might we also send them text messages if our team sucks and have them removed?

That'll come in so handy when J.P. Losman throws another interception.

Yeah!

Sagging Economy Forces Workforce Reductions at Santa's Workshop

North Pole, Dec 18th, 2008

The recession has demonstrated it's far reach this year, claiming among it's latest victims, The North Pole. Factory orders at Santa's Workshop are down 40% from last year, forcing cuts in it's labor force.

"I haven't worked in 3 months!" an undisclosed worker said. "My training is too narrow, and it's not exactly easy to get hired as an elf anywhere but The North Pole."

Other laid-off workers are not very hopeful they can find work with the Easter Bunny. Because, no one knows where he lives.

"We saw this before in the 2001, right after the launch of ISanta.com." said Kris Kringle, Chief Executive Officer. "We'll just ride it out. Until then, we're striving for a leaner Santa's Workshop, one that thrives on Elficiency. Our costs of operation are much higher this year. Reindeer run on fodder, not oil!"

"Elficiency, elficiency, elficiency. That's all we hear about!" an undisclosed worker quipped. "We think we've been treated unfairly and ever since the scandal, there's been a deterioration in regards to how management communicates with the workers."

Santa's Workshop was rocked by scandal last month when Kringle faced charges of verbal assault for allegedly calling someone a "Ho" three times. Charges were eventually dropped.

Meanwhile, the Union members have called for a Dec 24th emergency meeting of The International Brotherhood Guild Organization of December (IBGOOD).

"Christmas will go on!" said Kringle. "Despite the expense, we're going ahead with toys for the good children and clean coal technology for the ones who've been bad."

Rudolph was not available for comment.

Maybe, it would be better if you fired the cable guy...

Before I say negative things about the cable TV company, which you or a family member might be employed by, I don't want you to feel like you should have to read this or agree with me.

That's Cognitive Therapy in action. Good stuff. I stumbled upon some of Aaron Beck's stuff in the library. It was next to a book that had the word "sex" in the title. One technique from I learned CT was to to avoid the imperatives "should" or "should not". These are classic thinking errors that trap an limit your behavior. The late Albert Ellis thought we would be better off if we banished "should" from our vocabularies and replaced it with "it would be better if...".

As in, it would be better if I started making my point soon.

My point is that we are in a global financial crisis! Ahhhhhhhh! Look outside your window right now! What do you see? Pretty much the same thing you always do. Only, it's not worth as much as it used to be. And, that's bad, for all of us. My previous literary work, "Bake Yo Ass a Chicken" addressed our serious need to cut costs by making your own meals.

If more of us than ever find ourselves in a state of financial turmoil, it would be better if we could all cut some costs here and there. Are we doing this as well as we can? No. How do I know? Because Time Warner Cable company is estimated to make a profit of 1.28 billion dollars in 2008, up from 1.12 billion in 2007. So, for americans, the global economic crisis apparently hasn't hit home hard enough to make us stop watching cable TV and spend our evenings selling our possessions on eBay.

I used to have cable TV back in the 90's. One year, I gave up TV for Lent and disconnected the cable. I've never been back. I have an aerial antenna on the roof of my house. It seems rather geriatric for a guy who is only 40 years of age. But, then again, I liked Old Spice Scented wipes. So, maybe I'm just ahead of my years.

I haven't missed cable TV that often. As a matter of fact, I'm very happy not to have it. I'm saving a lot of money by getting my TV through the electromagnetic waves traversing the air that for the moment, are still free of charge. I don't watch much TV, but what I watch, I am more pleased with.

A couple of years ago, a sales guy from Dish Network came by my house and caught me working in the yard. He knew I wasn't a customer with them, so he asked what cable package I had. Resisting some sort of funny joke like "I'll show you what cable package I have!", I just told him "none". He looked at me, puzzled as if I was plowing through life having some sort of basic need unfulfilled. He asked me "How do you get your TV?" as if it was some sort of heroin fix. I pointed at the aerial antenna. He seemed to have serious pity for me.

I hope this blog finds you in a state of financial bliss. But, if it doesn't, stopping cable service is one of those decisions that is starting to tip the risk/reward ratio in your favor. It costs a lot of money and now there are other alternatives. So, by no means am I saying you "should" cut off your cable. But, for what I view as some valid-ass reasons, it might very well be better if you did...

Cable TV is expensive

How expensive? I don't know! That's how expensive. I have searched the Time Warner Cable web site and find no specific info on pricing. So, I online chatted with a customer service rep and got no real answer except to call back during business hours.

But, I remember what standard cable TV service cost in the 90's. It wasn't cheap, on the order of $50 a month.

Dish Network is only $25 a month for 26 channels. Not much, eh?

But, what if you had to save for a child's college education and decided to funnel all the money you spent on Dish Network into that child's education fund instead?

Yeah, what if you procreated right now (please take a break from reading this if you actually are) and 19 years later that kid needed to go to college? $25 a month would be $300 a year. $300 a year compounded over 19 years at a modest 3% would be $7,745.79! To clarify for my European friends, that's 7,745.79 dollars!

Granted, the kid is going to community college. But, that's a lot of money for a few more channels.

A $50 a month package compounded over 19 years buys a half a year's tuition at Harvard.

DTV ain't bad

I have a digital TV receiver. It has good reception. I have 10 channels including a weather station and four PBS channels! I watched a documentary last night about penguins. Did you know they could slide on their bellies instead of walking? I wouldn't have learned that on ESPN where I'd be watching the Pittsburgh Penguins.

In my opinion, all of the good shows are on network TV. And with my DTV receiver, I have all those channels for the low monthly cost of NOTHIN'!.

Other Alternatives

If you're missing your favorite game, there's always www.channelsurfing.net where you can catch games that aren't televised, even on cable. If you're a non-sports person, you can watch a gazillion pre-recorded shows on Hulu.com.

Supporting Cable is anti-free market

I would like to believe we americans still believe in a free market society. My local cable company has no direct competition. That's what, in so many terms, we call a monopoly. Yes, Time Warner has indirect competition. Apparently, it's not direct enough to rival NOTHIN' per month.

Oops, I need to close soon. I forgot to write out my monthly check for NOTHIN' to the atmosphere, where I get my TV. So, let's just review...

In Summary

* You should never say "should"

* Denying yourself cable TV could fund community college

* Time Warner Cable will still do just fine without you. Making billions.

* There's other stuff out there to help you get your fix

* Viva free market!

Now, you should go enjoy the rest of your day.

Me vs. Me

2007 miles: 8,877
2008 miles to date: 8,859

If this rain clears up, I'll be able to ride to work and pass my last year self.

On your left, me 2007!

(slacker)

Shit They Don't Make No More

There sure is a lot of stuff around. Have you noticed all the stuff all over? It's everywhere.

With Christmas approaching, it's hard not to dwell on some of the consumer items that have fallen by the wayside. In some cases, this would a good thing. Like, margarine developed by Lee Iacocca. What's up with that?

But in some cases, it is a bad, bad, horrible nasty thing.

I miss some products. And this makes me sad.

*sigh*

Case in point, what happened to these wonderful things? Read below and then please tell me. In that order, please.

Slime

Remember Slime? Ok, maybe you're too young to remember Slime. Slime was this wonderfully viscous sensation in a can that could provide hours, maybe even days of juvenile, goopy entertainment. You could poke your finger into it and make it disappear while the air slipped out and made a tooty noise. You could take it out of the can, place the big glob of it on your finger tips, hold your hand upright and after about 5 minutes, it would slowly ooze down your hand, coating all of your fingers. OK, now everybody make that kiddie "ooooooooooh" sound. That's the reaction for everything involving Slime. Who knew guar gum could be so much fun? Then, when the whole concept became sort of stale, they came out with Slime with rubber worms in it, Slime with Eyeballs, Slime with Bugs and Masters of The Universe Slime! Yeeaaahhhh!

So, this stuff was awesome. Why did they stop producing it? I am afraid I know the answer to that. Why do they stop making any good toy? Because some dumb ass kid hurt himself with it. The only question I have is...how? Yeah, how did some kid injure himself with guar freaking gum?

I'm sorry, I have to stop there. I'm getting emotional.

Old Spice Scented Wipes

Why did they stop making these? Are there less people with body odor these days? I don't think so. Actually, this must be a classic case of poor marketing because this was a truly superior product. When I ride my bike to work, I must transform myself from a stinky, sweaty latex-wearin' cycle-monkey into a well groomed, musky smelling educational professional in minutes. It's kind of like doing a "reverse Superman". Back in the days when Old Spice made scented wipes, I could wipe myself off with a few of these in my "target stinky zones" and be done. Destinkified and perfumified in one easy step, I would emerge pretty and sweet smelling. Ladies I work with have commented!

Now, I must destinkify myself with baby wipes, which do not make me smell like a man. They make me smell like a toddler who has shat his diapers. Then, I have to spray myself with TAG or AXE or BOD or some sort of three letter spray that comes in a metal can that makes me smell like I'm trying wayyyy to hard.

It's all so wrong now. Damn you, Old Spice!

Shlitz

Actually, this wasn't really very good beer. I just used to like to get it once in a while because of the funny name. And so, I miss it.

Chocolate Cool Whip

What's the best food in the world? Right. Cool Whip. What's the best flavor in the world? Correct again, chocolate. Now what do you get when you combine the light and creamy goodness of Cool Whip with the most wonderful delectible flavor in the world? Chocolate Freakin' Cool Whip!

Now, where the hell do you find it? I don't know. I saw it once and I bought like 5 containers of it. Now, I can't find it anywhere. I would drive up to 50 miles for it. So, where did I go to find out? Where all curious minds go to find out about Cool Whip www.coolwhip.com

Ya know what's a kick in the pants? They still make it. I just can't find it anywhere.

And, what's worse than something you can't have? Knowing someone else has it.

Come back to me, Chocolate Cool Whip.
I miss you.

Tales From The Fish Box

I don't know why I keep saying "yes". But, here at Mick's Kiddie Zoo, I am now partly responsible for three living creatures; two fish (named Squeek and Goldie) and a cat (Toonces).

Toonces the cat has quite the repertoire of tricks which include but are not limited to:

* Tip over the half full beverage
* Make loud whining noises at 4:30am
* Pounce on me in bed while digging claws into my legs

and now, my all time favorite...jump on the counter and try to eat the fish.

All of these behaviors are firmly disciplined with the Feline Soakerator 2000. It's a specially designed precision apparatus that looks somewhat like a spray bottle. Actually, between us...it's just a spray bottle.

Two days ago. I rescued both fish from certain peril. I'll tell you the story.

Once upon a time, Mick came into the kitchen and noticed there was water all over the floor. He figured he had reverted back to the time in his life when he enjoyed the wonderful freedom of being able to leave cups of water unattended for more than a minute and the kitty had taken advantage of his inattentiveness.
In fact kitty had, but this time, it was the fish bowl kitty had tipped over. It's actually a rectangle, not a bowl, but can we address that later? Or, how about never?

So, Mick looked in the bowl and what did he see? Two motionless fish laying there at the bottom of their home which was now bone dry. Mick's heart sunk immediately. After all, it's a long trip to the department store where he can buy two more fish that look exactly like that. Because Mick is a quick thinker and good in crisis situations, he sensed the fish needed water to live. Quickly, he turned the water on and poured some ambient temperature water into the strange rectangular fish container.

Viola! The fish started to move around! And later on, it was like nothing had happened. It's two days since and they seem just fine.

Mick figured he either had gotten there are the exact right moment to save their fishy lives, or he posessed strange, paranormal fish-healing powers. Well, let me tell you, it's the former. He tried waving his hands over a piece of frozen cod and nothing happened.

Mick was disappointed because he thought fish-healing was going to be his big break in life.

Anyhow, the whole incident disrupted poor Squeek the Fish's plumbing. Like, you when one has surgery or and extended stay in the hospital and things just don't..."move" quite right? That's what happened to Squeek the Fish.

How did Mick know?

Well, look at this honker...


"No wonder Squeeks eyes are bugging out!", Mick said to himself. "Sheesh! Must be hard to swim around dragging that thing behind him."

So, that's the story of how Mick saved his fish from certain death and one of the fish became constipated as a result.

The End.

2008 MAC Championship

Happy Win Day!

Tom From Math Bakes His Own Cookies

Friday, Dec 5th, 2008: Dayton, OH

The 2008 Science, Mathematics and Engineering Division's holiday party featured something new this year; oatmeal cookies baked by none other than Tom the math prof.

Tom arrived a bit late, touting a wicker basket topped with a wholesome woven cover which had a plaid design. Immediately upon arrival, Tom offered cookies to those sitting at the tables on the north side of the building.

They were oatmeal. The general consensus was a desire for chocolate chip and some think this has generated some cynicism toward the cookies and their suspected baker.

"His wife probably makes those for him" an undisclosed source reported.

The cookies were generally enjoyed and consumed in their entirety by those at the table. But Tom was spotted carrying some left over cookies out with him toward the parking ramp as he exited work for the day.

At this point, a source very close to the publisher of this article, so close in fact that he is the publisher, was able to approach Tom and inquire about the origin of the baked goods.

"I made them myself!" said Tom proudly, dashing the rumors that he received his assistance from his spouse. "I enjoy experimenting with things at home and now baking is my sort of focus", he elaborated.

Tom's math teaching record is well established. But, he seems to be donning the baking mitts with great enthusiasm.

"I'm Impressed!" said Llana Combs, Administrative Assistant for Chemistry and Geology.

Sources say the cookies were a bit dry but "Not too bad for a math guy".

Tom's wife was not available for comment.

Iceland Struggling to Recover From Bankruptcy

Reykjavik, Iceland, December 3rd, 2008:

A couple of months ago, The Republic of Iceland shocked the world when it declared bankruptcy.

Things looked quite bleak, to say the least. The country's chief export, whale blubber, was in tight supply because global warming has heated the ocean considerably. This caused whales to grow a much thinner layer of fat below their skin because they didn't need the insulation from the frigid ocean water. Production of whale blubber reached its peak shortly after the release of the film Free Willy.

"We remember those hey days with great fondness." said Nigel McFrigidity, Mayor of the small settlement of Brr. "Now, whale blubber is so scarce, we must find other ways to create income for this great frozen island of a nation."

But, Iceland has shown the ability to innovate. Help is arriving with the increased global demand for natural frozen water (Ice). Unlike ice commercially available in most retail establishments, Iceland frozen water is naturally and organically frozen, not brought below 32 degrees Fahrenheit via use artificial methods.

"Our ice is frozen naturally and never thawed." Said Charles Chillwilly, CEO of Ice, Ice, Baby, Inc.

But skeptics of this sudden ice boom are quite skeptical. And, people from miles around, are miles away.

"It won't last forever. Peak Ice Production is right around the corner and then naturally frozen ice will demand a much higher market price", said Seymour Nips, Professor of Finance at the Nordic Institute of Microeconomdicks. "Before long, global warming will have taken it's toll here as well".

Until then, the people of this country will investigate other ways to generate cold, hard cash.

Walkie Talkie

Sibling Rivalry

The Terrorist Event in India...

...is NOT funny.

I want to be clear about that.

Which sucks, because normally, this photo would be screaming for a funny caption:

At least someone is paying attention...

The quarter ended today. The last two weeks, my 11am lecture class has been quite verbal and participative. I've been having the students play with molecular model kits composed of plastic balls and sticks. They're like Legos for chemistry students.

Anyhow, I received an email from a student who apparently has been colluding with another student and writing down some of my "quotes" of the past two weeks. Here goes...

Mike,

Listed below are a couple of choice quotes that Justin and I picked up on in the last two weeks. Wish we would have started sooner in the quarter, then we might be publishing a book right now. So, pop open a nice cool Schaefer light, or Natural light if you want to spring the extra couple of cents, and enjoy.

"You usually don't want to put more than four things around a thing."

Mike (pops a balloon) " I feel powerful!"

"Aromatic is a dirty, dirty, burner."

"You can make an ester and another guy can make an ester, then you can sniff each other's esters."

"I ran around looking for balls and sticks, and I couldn't find any real ones."

"The Balls prove it!"

"Oh, I got balls!"

"Except this one is kinky."

"Most woodchucks are very fire savvy."

"An instructor did die once in the middle of the quarter. But it wasn't me."

"Never ignore things that are dangling off anyway."

-Words to live by. Have a great break,

Eric

Stupid Football Announcer Cliches I Hate

Include the following:

"Burning" a timeout

Timeouts are not flammable. They do not have a carbon chain. They don't have mass or take up space. Timeouts are not matter. They are purely conceptual and this make them decidedly non-flammable. If timeouts were flammable, we wouldn't have an energy crisis in this country, especially in the NBA. So, I repeat, you don't "burn" a timeout. You "call" a timeout or "use" a time out. Thank you.

"He gets stronger as the game goes on!"

With the exception of body odor, nobody gets stronger as the game goes on. Go find me someone who can play a entire 60 minute football game and tell me at the end "Wow, I feel stronger!". What really happens? Everyone gets tired as the game goes on. Some players, particularly the ones on anabolic steroids, get less tired and when compared to the more tired players, they seem stronger. That's what's really going on here.

"Muffing" a punt

For some reason, when punting, if you drop the ball or fail to drop it on your foot, you didn't "botch" the punt or "flub" the punt, you "muffed" the punt. Why do the words "muff" and "punt" always need to go together? I don't know. But, I think I'll quit there because I feel like I'm treading on dangerous territory.

"If he *insert thing player should have done* it would have been a touchdown for sure!"

Hey, Mr. Announcer Guy. You don't know that. Sure, he might have had a lot of open field in front of him and no one chasing him. But, do you know for sure that if the dude caught the ball or picked up the fumble he would have absolutely, undoubtedly and with 100% probability strolled in for a touchdown? I've seen times where guys running for touchdowns give up running and then a speedy little sneaky guy like Don Beebe catches him, pooches the ball out from behind and causes a fumble. Dude could be running down the field and one of Tonya Harding's goons could hop out and whack him with a pipe. How do you always know what's going to happen next in life, Mr. Smarty Pants?! Do you know what word I am going to type next? Bleeble! You would have never guessed I was going to type "Bleeble". So, please allow events in life to unfold as they may. That's why people like sports, because it's different every time.

Okay, that's all.

I feel like I've left it all out on the field and given 110%.

Me don't get it...

I'm looking at the weather forecast for tomorrow and it says it's going to rain all day.

Okay. But, because I am not very trusting, I looked on the weather map and there's no green stuff showing any precipitation.

Then, I look at the weather map in motion and it shows no green stuff. But this time, the lack of green stuff is in motion!

So, like how's it gonna rain?

Okay, okay, I'm a scientist. I understand precipitation is sometimes a complicated process. And, the atmosphere is a very heterogeneous mixture of gases with temperature fluctuations and pressure systems and there's probably a low pressure system with very moist air that is going to collide with a high pressure system and produce some turbulence with tightly packed isobars.

I understand.

No, wait, actually, I don't understand what the hell I just said.

But just the same, I don't see any green stuff nearby. So, it's not raining all day tomorrow and I'm callin' it.

And, I'm riding my bike to work. I think that's really behind my theory. In psychological terms, it's "wish fulfillment".

So, in closing:

Ain't raining tomorrow as much as they say.

Bye.

A Night With The Aquabats

My head still pounding, ears still ringing and liver still swollen from the night before with The Toasters, I set out to make a road trip to Cleveland, Ohio and the Agora Ballroom. I was advised that the Agora is not located the friendliest neighborhoods. But, I was willing to flirt with danger to see the ultimate kings of nerd-core, The Aquabats.

I also needed to prove to the world I wasn't Agoraphobic.

The Trek

The trip flowed smoothly, until the last 20 miles. This is region where I am told Canada passes gas on us, which flows over warm Lake Erie producing lake effect snows. The snow was falling hard and fast, like some sort of strong metaphor that requires too much thought from a hung over person. Emboldened by my five years of winter experience in Buffalo, NY and the fact that my car is a total piece of shit, I pressed on.

It was times like this I wish I had fixed my broken windshield wiper fluid motor pump thingy and did not have to resort to a wind blown cycling water bottle squirt done arm dangling out the side window.

When pulling in to the venue, I asked the parking attendant when the storm was supposed to let up. Monday, he replied. That information cut my beer quota in half.

The Show

Harsh weather aside, the Agora was packed. As the third oldest person there, I could appreciate the youthful exuberance and sweatiness of the mob that was soon to be come a swirling pit of humanity. The Bats opened with Fashion Zombies and my mind exploded with excitement and child-like joy.



Quite often, I found myself giggling at the stock video clips that ran on the projection screen behind; scenes from Japanese sumo wrestlers, old Godzilla movies, space films, etc.

After a side skit involving a golden idol and a white buffalo, the plot of which I think was really driven by the purchase of a cheap costume somewhere on tour, the real suprise came about two thirds of the way through the show:


This was the "Hooray for the Holidays" tour. And a mystery guest was soon to arrive...

He was dressed in red and white...

He seemed jolly...

Yes, the Magic Chicken joined the bats on stage, dancing and clucking to the song which is his namesake.


It was beautiful.

The most clever rock & roll "fake ending" ever...

Sadly, we were two songs from the end. The bats said "good night" and left the stage. Naturally, the crowd was chanting "Aquabats" and sticking around for their reappearance. Meanwhile, the projection screen showed film of them high-fiving each other and leaving the outside of the venue. They hopped on horses, firing six shooters in the air.

Suddenly, they stopped riding...

Do you hear that? M.C. Bat Commander announced?

That's just crickets. Jimmy the Robot replied.

No it isn't? That's kids at the show! They want us to come back and play some more songs! We better get back!

And, so they did, riding their horses, it took them 30 seconds or so for them to reappear.

They closed with Captain Hampton and Awesome Forces.

Summary

Critics of the Bats have maligned them for losing their brass and abandoning their ska roots. I am happy to report, that Jimmy The Robot played his sax more than his keys. For some songs, they invited the trumpeter from the warm up band and got their ska on like they did at the turn of the century.

The Aquabats are also a breath of fresh air when choosing obscure music usually means bitchy, f-bomb rock. Their message is nauseatingly positive to the point of sarcasm. You'll be hard pressed to find a cuss word. What's more important, they celebrate all things silly. I appreciate that. There's part of me who wants to forget all the bitching I've heard all day and listen to a song about a martian girl or Powdered Milk Man or what not. As a result, I feel encouraged at times like later that night when I visited the highway rest area traveler's log, signed my name and wrote "I went poopie!" in the comments section. Life is too serious already and The Aquabats provide a respite.

This trip also allowed me to spend some serious quality time with my favorite person. If The Aquabats invade this area again, I will be there.

Perhaps, someone will go with me.

Check it out...

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=buffalo58

Glad to see we've grown up a little since then.

One more reason to root for my alma mater!

24

The following events will have occurred between 11/20 and 11/21:

8pm-9pm: Finish typing this. Enter cockpit of the Mickmobile. Set GPS coordinates for Covington, Kentucky. Depart CTU (Counter Tediousness Unit) Headquarters.

9pm-10pm: Arrive at Mad Hatter Club. Occupy territory near bar. Conquer responsible number of cocktails using hand to bottle combat.

10pm-11pm: Dispose excess urine stores. Frontal assault on stage area.

11pm-12am: Commence Rocking with The Toasters & Two Tone Army while not letting the bastards grind me down.

12am-1am: Enter Mickmobile. Set GPS coordinates for Beavercreek, Ohio and CTU HQ.

1am-2am: Locate hidden micro chips, destroy with some sour cream and onion dip.

2am-6am: REM cycles 1, 2 and maybe 3

7am-8am: Dress in professional camouflage. Enter Mickmobile. Depart CTU for Fort Sinclair.

8am-9am: Attend briefing of department with Agent Boss Man. Sit in remote location so no one detects drowsiness, alcohol or ringing of the ears.

9am-10am: Search internet for further instructions.

10am-11am: Office Hour, stay vigilant against spontaneous drowsiness.

11am-12 noon: Train future operatives.

12 noon - 1pm: Fuel glycogen stores with long chain polysaccharides.

1pm - 2pm: Travel via Mickmobile to CTU headquarters.

2pm - 4pm: Secret love rendezvous and liver cleansing with mountain bike.

4pm- 5pm: Set GPS coordinates for Agora Ballroom, Cleveland Ohio, depart CTU via Mickmobile

5pm - 6pm: Commence Operation Scratch Myself

6pm-7pm: Rapid caffeine download at Ashland Starbucks

7pm - 8pm: Rapid Mickey's Malt Liquor download in parking structure. Enter Agora Ballroom. Join forces with M.C. Bat Commander and the rest of The Aquabats and commence fighting all evil.

Holy Cow!

I bought some steaks at Kroger.

Did you know Kroger is "regork" spelled backwards? Who would have thought...

Check it out...These steaks are a product of U.S., Canada, Mexico, Australia and New Zealand.


That is some well-traveled beef.

When I stuck my fork in it, it said "mooo" in three different languages.

Or, maybe I'm making this all up.

If so, my misteak.

Chow.

My limited petting experience

While growing up, I remember how much my father loved animals.

He loved them for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

For sure, we didn't make a habit of co-habitating with them.

So, now that I'm mostly growed up, I can't help but reflect on the very small number of pets I've had. In my entire life, I've had maybe six. And, out of those six, all but one of them are completely DEAD!

But, it's not my fault. Because, I was always good to them.

Let me explain. I will organize this discussion of pets by species, if you don't mind.

Fish

When I was a boy, I had several goldfish. But only two lived longer than a week. So, they are the only ones that count as living. Fish don't live, actually, they are just less dead. Anyhow, I bought two fish when I was in junior high school. I named them Cheech and Chong because pot smoking was popular back then. Cheech died when I was in high school. As a country boy, I was bored enough to hold a funeral for him with my friends.

We put the "fun" back in funeral, as you can plainly see.

Chong, on the other hand, lived a much longer life. I had to bring him to college with me. I remember looking down and noticing how his fish bowl vibrated, sending ripples through the water surface as his bowl sat on the floor of my car during the four hour car trek to college. In graduate scool, I woke up one day and noticed him lying on the bottom of his bowl while his belly was heaving in and out. If you own a fish, let me tell you, this is not a good sign because fish are not sophisticated enough to fake being sick for attention. I asked my roomate to end his life quickly because I couldn't bar do it. My roomate was a relatively brutal guy who was an antisemite and racist. He gleefully offered to take him outside and smash him with a stone. I took him up on this. So, Cheech had a very quick, albiet violent death. My former roomate is a lawyer now. He probably represents people who have had their heads smashed in with stones.

All in all, Chong lived thirteen years! He even lived through beer parties where people poured beer into his bowl.

But he didn't outlive a stone thrust into his head. Rest in peace, Chong.

Bunny Wabbits

Monty Python wasn't joking. Probably the meanest varmints that rule the Earth are rabbits.

"What, behind the rabbit? It is da rabbit!"

In high school, my brother's girlfriend bought him a pet rabbit. Weirdly, my Dad didn't object. Being the typical teenage country boys, we immediately began to ignore it's life sustaining needs and Mom took over as caregiver. She soon and fell in love with it. It was black and white. So, my brother named it "Zeb" which is short for Zebra. We were so smart and creative. Well, let me tell you something, Zeb wanted sex out of everyone and everything. He'd hump your arm, your leg, your head...anything. Naturally, he liked me the most. And, you know what really hurt? He never wanted to snuggle afterwards. Yep, Zeb was a horny little bunny. So, my Mom took Zeb to the vet where Zeb would undergo a special procedure causing him to return home without any balls! Not only did he not hump anything any more, he discovered a new part of himself that took a shine to interior design and fabrics.

Ultimately, Zeb didn't survive the surgery. I guess he couldn't face the world without any testicles. I remember very vividly on Christmas eve night; my Mom was playing the organ at midnight mass and we were home. I walked by Zeb's cage and noticed he was sleeping. But this time he was sleeping with his eyes open. I poked at him with something (probably a bunny poker) and he didn't move.

Zeb was dead.

My Mom came home and was sad. So, my Dad bought her another bunny.

This one was a female, her name was Missy. She was a bitch. She's probably in bunny hell right now. This little rodent bit me in the nipple and snorted at me.

Let's just talk about cats.

Ohhhh! No, wait! Missy almost killed me! I almost forgot that!

Missy's favorite hobby was chewing on electrical cords.

This is a fire hazard.

Because my Dad had deep objections to turning on the heat, I slept with an electrical blanket. Missy liked chewing on the cords that fed the blanket.

One night, I had a strange dream. In this dream, I smelled smoke and my feet felt hot.

I woke up immediately, where I smelled smoke and my feet were hot.

My bed was on fire.

Little hairy bitch chewed on my electrical blanket until the cords shorted out. This made my bed catch fire while I was sleeping.

Good thing I have sensitive feet.

So, I almost died in a fire while I slept. It didn't help that I was half asleep and tried to put the fire out by pouring water on it, which made it worse. I eventually gave in and barged in to my parent's room (which was only allowed if the house was on fire) and my Dad got up and smothered the fire.

So, the little bitch almost killed me.

I'm glad she's dead.

Now, we can talk about cats.

Cats

My wife wanted a cat. I've never had my own air-breathing pet before. So, I resisted. But eventually, I relented. Probably because I was as horny as Zeb.

I fell in love with this one. He was a grey male cat. Unfortunately, he lived 5 years longer than Chong the fish. Kidneys.

I remember taking him to the vet to put him down. I couldn't stay in the room. I elected to wait outside and have the vet's assistant hand me a shoe box with dead weight in it. I payed them 60 bucks for that. I didn't really make out on that deal.

Let's talk about other cats.

Now, I have kids. They wanted a kitten. My heart was broken with the last cat. So, I resisted. But guess what? I relented. Now we have this cat named Cocoa. My kids named him. He's black and white. Personally, I think cocoa is a silly name for a black and white cat because cocoa is dark brown. But, telling kids they came up with stupid names is not a very positive contribution to their self esteem. So, I didn't share my thoughts about the stupid ass name.

Instead, I call him Toonces. I want him to learn how to ride in a car. So, he's "Toonces the driving cat".

I now spend most of my time at home making sure Toonces doesn't drink out of the toilet or tip over drinks. This guy is obsessed with liquids.

Just like his old man!

You go, Toonces!

And that is all I have to say about pets.

So, bye.

I can make it happen...

On the morning of January 27th, 1991, I was kneeling in a Catholic church on Main Street in Buffalo, NY.

Among my normal prayers, I prayed that the Buffalo Bills would win Super Bowl XXV.

That's where my focus was in life.

Somebody's trying to tell me something, because they lost the next four Super Bowls.

I take responsibility, because I thought sports were important enough to pray about.

I don't care much about sports any more. But when I start to gain interest, I can guarantee my team of choice's failure. I don't even need to pray.

The NHL finals where the Buffalo Sabres got screwed on that goal in overtime? They even had a guy named Miroslav Satan!

The last two years, when the New York Mets choked at the end of the season to miss the playoffs? That was me.

Now tonight, my Alma Mater, The University of Buffalo Bulls, have a chance to make history and take sole possession of the MAC east. If they win tonight vs. Akron, they have their way paved for a bowl game this year.

But it ain't gonna happen. Because I'm now interested, and that makes the opposite thing happen.

So, just for the record: Buffalo losing to Akron tonight. I might go to the bar and watch so it'll happen for sure!

The University of Akron are the "Zips". A Zip is a Kangaroo. They are all over Akron Ohio, Kangaroos are, that is. And, there's no way in hell a marsupial can beat up an adult sized huge mammal the size of a bull. Have you watched PBR? Those things get pissed.

But I'll make it happen. You watch.

Please God, make the Akron Zips beat the Buffalo Bulls.

Ah, crap, He can probably read my mind and know I didn't mean that.

Buffalo going down tonight. 7pm on ESPN U.

I just made it happen.

Sorry Buffalo.

Bake Yo Ass a Chicken!

So, this whole economic crisis thing looks serious. Like, really serious.

We gotta pull together, folks. Americans are spending too much money. Lets reel that in.

And I can hear you saying: How, skinny guy?

I say to you...

Americans! Bake yo ass a chicken!

Do it for the United States of Spamerica!

Seriously, it's not just the three glasses of wine talking. I think we curtail our costs by cookin' for our damn self! If you already cook for yo damn self, do it more!

Dammit!

I took my family out to Applebees a little while ago.

'Dat shit cost us 65 bucks.

For less a quarter that much, you can eat like royalty.

Here's how you do it:*

• Go to the grocery sto'!
• Buy yo self a big ass chicken, a 10 pound sack a potatoes and a bag of froze up spinach!
  
• Sprinkle some salt n pepa an put 'dat bird in 'da oven
• Wrap dose taters in some foil and put dat in 'da oven too
  
• Bake all dat shit!
• Empty the spinach and nuke 'dat shit in a big ass bowl.
  
• After 90 minutes, take it out and eat dat shit!
• Leave 'da oven open to heat 'da house.
  
• Yum!
  

Holy cow. For the last hundred words I think I just channeled my grandfather. He grew up in North Carolina. Well, he didn't say "shit" much. That part was all me.

Shit!

I guess what I'm saying is...if things are really this economically shitty, don't you think we could stay in a cook for ourselves more? Don't you think it's just as easy, just as good and wayyyy cheaper?

Dontcha think?

Hah?

Whatcha think?

Shit!

*Please do not bake shit or eat chicken with your ass. Those are only euphemisms, or figures of speech. Thank you for reading my blog, have a nice day. Do not heat house with oven still going and door open when cat might jump in. Do not bake chicken while still alive. Side effects include clucking like a chicken and walking with your head wagging back and forth. Do not choke your chicken.

Here's another letter: Proctor & Gamble

First, some background:

I wrote Proctor & Gamble about Head & Shoulders shampoo. I told them I was Italian and because I had hair on both my head and my shoulders, I asked if it was okay if I used their product on both my head and my shoulders.

A woman named Kimberly wrote back and told me in so many words "yes".

I guess I wasn't satisfied with that. So, I wrote Kimberly another letter:

Proctor & Gamble
Attn: Customer Relations Ms. Kimberly Vinje

To whom it may concern,

I enjoy the use of your products Metamucil and Pepto Bismol very regularly. Since my diet consists largely of banana and peanut butter sandwiches on white bread, I use them to stay "regular".

I am also very inactive (another reason for my constipation) and I love to watch the MTV network all day. One day, while watching the show "Unplugged (a show where rock bands do special acoustic concerts) I had a thought: Metamucil and Pepto Bismol should be the official sponsors of "Unplugged" since that is what they do best!

I just thought I'd share my idea with you folks since your great products have made my life easier. Please write me back and tell me what you think of my idea.

Sincerely, Mike Colonaro

P.S. It would be most appropriate if you showed a bunch of ads when the band "Hole" (featuring Courtney Love) appeared on Unplugged.

Their response, which came with a coupon for a free roll of Charmin toilet paper:


Dear Mr. Colonaro,

Thank you for contacting Proctor and Gamble about Metamucil and Pepto Bismol. We appreciate your taking time to get back in touch with us. By the way, how's the shoulder hair doing?

Mr. Colonaro, I must say your letter, while informative, was on the verge of crossing the more-than-I-need-to-know information border. Although we don't accept any advertising suggestions from outside our company, we found your letter amusing.

In fact, I may consider my own line of game shows associated with the usage of Metamucil and Pepto Bismol. Perhaps the prizes could be Charmin toilet paper or Tide with Bleach, depending on how successful the contestant. I'll need a host, so prepare your resume.

Please, if you have any questions or comments in the future, call the toll-free number listed on our product packages. Thanks again for getting in touch with us, you made my day! Hope you enjoy the enclosed.

Sincerely,

Kimberly Vinje
Consumer Relations

How to talk to your children about the financial crisis

Today's children are more than just pint-sized little creatures we are legally obligated to clothe and feed.

They also make a lot of noise.

So it goes to say we should take time to inform them of the global state of crappy affairs in the world today.

As a father of at least two children, I have a vested interest. After all, our children are the ones who will have to clean this mess up someday. We should be gentle with them in the way we let them know we are a stupid society armed with credit cards. When breaking the hard financial news, you might consider the following techniques to approach your child or even the odd kid on the playground.

Sock Puppets

Children consider sock puppets non-threatening. Use them to create parodies of financial situations. Entertain your children by inserting your hand in a sock puppet and then pulling out a dollar. During which, make the sock puppet carry on and writhe in pain. That's pretty much the entire plot. My kids love that one. I call it "The man who did business with a sub prime lender".

Let them fail with their own plastic

Get your kid a debit card with $5 loaded on it. Then, tell them "This magic card can buy you anything you want...anything in the whole, wide world!". They will naturally go buy the latest Brat doll who is showing her belly button or a muscle car toy which easily exceeds the $5. After they cry for a while, tell them that credit cards only buy things $5 or less. When they turn 18 years old and get their own credit card, let them think no different.

Make kids partners in your cost-cutting

When you cut costs so you can retire, make sure you let kids in on your plan. While you are watching college football and the kids approach you and ask who you want to win, make sure you always tell them the team with the lowest tuition. Luckily, Ivy League teams don't even play football on TV. Tell them you root for every team that has low tuition with a high faculty to student ratio and a good success rate with public scholarships. Even if you have to root for a SEC team. It's for their own good.

In summary

Blame the financial crisis on the kids. They aren't old enough to know to defend themselves and you can justify a lot of things by blaming them. That way, when they inevitably fund the solution 20 years from now, they won't feel so disenfranchised.

Time to test some techniques by talking to my 5-year old daughter:

Me: "Hi sweetie! What do you think of the global credit crunch?"

Daughter: "I think it's crunchy! * giggle * "

Classic case of denial. This might take a while...

Sprinkler Rainbow Conspiracy!

"We as a nation have got to ask ourselves; what the hell is going on?"

I couldn't agree more.

Hoo boy...

My State is Blue

When I woke up this morning
my state had turned blue
one fell democratic swoop
has changed our hue

It might take a while
to adjust our Buck eyes
the electoral college
does not compromise

We blew right by orange
didn't bother with yellow
didn't waste any time
with green, young fellow

We all cast our votes
now Ohio is blue
just like my home state
and Pennsylvania too

When I drive north and east
to go visit my kin
things won't change red to blue
and red back again

It's monochromatic!
as of right today
Maybe I'll visit my friend
His state is still grey.

Son of Godzulla 2008

Welp, I put the racing season to bed saturday. Actually, it put me to bed. But no worries, it was somewhat gentle.

Let me blab a while about the last "unofficial" road event of the season: Son of Godzulla.

Scott Denny for President

So, non-road bicycle racer. You might wonder; what's the big whoop? Son of Godzulla (SOG) is run in an area south and east of Cincinnati along the river. This place is known for some of the steepest-ass hills man has ever dared apply asphalt. The grades reach 30% at points, which is 3 feet elevation gain for every 10 feet forward. For the average rider, this amounts to...ouch squared.

I tip the scales at about a buck fifty. I can manage roads that point up. Last year I stole 3rd and my fitness has been okay since August or so this year. So, I was looking forward to SOG. Scott Denny can take a lot of credit for this.

Scott Denny is SOG's promoter. He is by far my favorite in the area. Why? He emphasises something road racers need to be reminded of: This is for fun. He does this without compromising safety or the quality of the event.

Scott paints the road with special signals to alert the riders of upcoming climbs. This year's theme was "Mr. Bill" from Saturday Night Live Fame. As we approached Thomas Hill, which kicks up to 28%, I noticed an artist's rendition of Mr. Bill in spray paint with the caption "Oh No!" below.

This year, Scott broke out a new course. Shorter, but with more hills. You can't hide. The 61 mile torture session started from a beautiful vista at the top of a giant ridge on Grants Run Rd.

I arrived early to witness what the fog was goin' on in the valley below.

Lookie how pretty:

Not Diane in the blue jacket. The fog!

Race stuff:

We rolled out and spun along the first flat section of 9 miles. It's the only flat we'd see all day.

Well, not the only flat. More on that later.

I flatted.

Crap, I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I finished 22nd, 16 minutes off the pace because my front wheel flatted. This has been the year of the flat tire for me. Until then, I was hanging in the lead selection of 10 or so riders. My legs were feeling spunky and on the climbs I heard the breath of others rasping behind me. At mile 38, I felt the vibration that accompanies road in direct contact with rim. I was toast.

I yelled something profane, raised my hand up to signal the group and watched the other 9 guys pass me get smaller as I whipped out my tube and replaced it with a fresh one. During which, some of my teammates in the chase group zipped by and told me they were sorry. They didn't sound like they meant it though. The bastards. :)

At least now, the pressure was off, literally. My mini-pump couldn't get much air into the tube and I was sponging my way along the road to finish.

There's a lot of material for dirty jokes here. I must be off today.

No good finish at SOG this year. This will be the third flat I've had this racing season. All on hilly courses.

Let's just talk about the party, dammit.

Post-Race Party

Scott holds a cookout/beer party after Son of Godzulla. I can't talk much about this event last year. I don't know why, but my memory is a bit fuzzy. I do remember sleeping in my car afterward. I recognized one of the volunteer cooks from prior years and assured her I would not be sleeping in my car this year.

"You were funny last year" She said.

I guess I was funny last year.

Scott held a "decathalon of events" which included a bounce the quarter competition, a hold your ankles race and a pig head shotput. Yeah, every year, they grill a pig head and a sheep head and these are somehow a source of amusement.

The women get to toss the sheep head.

You would be surprised how many people will touch a pig head after drinking a large amount of alcohol.

Not me. Geez, I hope I didn't touch it last year.

Anyhow, my friend Todd wanted me to camp. But, I didn't bring a tent. I don't like sleeping in my car from past experience, and I don't want to risk accidentally spooning with another guy. We're a close team. But not that close.

Nothing personal Todd.

I'm getting bored of typing this. I can only imagine how readers feel.

Let's just close by saying, I'm switching to Latex tubes. They cost $11, but they don't tear as easy. I didn't sleep in my car this year. And, I have a little fire in my belly to get me through the off-season. Last year, the fire in my belly was Jagermeister.

If you're in the SW Ohio area. Try SOG. There's a mini-SOG too. Warning! If you walk up the final hill, you will receive and be forced to suck on, a baby pacifier.

I miss racing already.

Word.

Halloweenie

Why I REALLY hate election time

Okay. So, I understand there are basically two sets of people in this country: those who trust in the individual to do the right thing by society and those who do not. Check.

And those two sets of people will NEVER agree with each other. Understood.

Here's what I don't understand: why do people feel the need to broadcast their political views as if they were some of evangelists?

To be quite honest, when I hear someone shoot their mouth off about Obama it makes me a bit more sympathetic toward McCain. Conversely, when I hear someone who is a conservative speak, I become more sympathetic toward democrats.

So, hey you toeing the party lines. I'm a very cynical person. Anything you do or say makes me go the other way with it. I think I have some sort of psychological problem with authority.

But, you makeshift biennial political pundits feel a need to belong to something that overrides your true self and makes you less of a person.

So, let's call it even.

How about if we both try shutting up for three more days?

All right then. On your marks...get set...

...shut up!

Stupid letters number I forgot: Fleet

Customer Relations
C.B. Fleet Company, Inc
4615 Murray Place
Lynchburg, VA

Dear Sir or Madam,

My wife says I have a problem. Although I'm male, I question my freshness.

As the producers of feminine wash, deodorant spray, powder and cleaning cloths for females, I can't help but notice the absence of products for males in your portfolio. Possibly there are some products in the feminine area that men may use as well? My stinky area of concern would be that "south of the border" if you know what I mean.

I would greatly appreciate your help. I'm hesitant to contact you via phone because I am quite embarrassed by this problem. Please send any information you may have via postal mail.

Thanks,

Mike Canespu

Their response:



Dear Mr. Canespu,

Thank you for your recent correspondence concerning Summers Eve products. We appreciate hearing from our consumers, and are always looking for ways to improve our products and services.

You had asked about whether we currently manufacture masculine hygiene products. Unfortunately, we do not currently manufacture a masculine line of products. However, we would suggest to you that products such as Summers Eve Feminine Wash do eliminate body odors without leaving a feminine-type fragrance on the skin. We do appreciate your suggestions, and will forward those suggestions to the appropriate personnel, including our Executive Officers.

C.B. Fleet Co., Inc is committed to producing only the highest quality of products. We trust that your experiences with Summer's Eve products will meet your expectations and be your brand of choice. Enclosed you will find coupons good for future purchases of our products.

Sincerely,

Donna H. John
Technical Information Coordinator
C.B. Fleet Company, Inc.

Sticky Money Crisis

Uh huh.

Desparation blog

Ya know, you would think I feel some sort of desperation or something, just because tomorrow I turn 40 years old.

As a skinny white guy...statistically, I am more than half way through my life now.

Nope, I feel fine.

I don't feel a longing for my youth.

I'm really a man now.

Flookie!

Hah! I made you read a goofy word.

Noomieeeeewanna!

Did it again!

I even made you read this...

Word!

Hah, made you read a word again.

Try and not read this:

Blarbie!

Gotcha again!

Ok, gotta go.

I guess I better go work on getting old and dying now.

Bye!

*sniff*


Flooomiedonkawannaflormiedoodledonkiediddles!

We may not be grown up...

...but at least we're immature!



Yep.

The sweet innocence is becoming...

...a thing of the past.

So you have some context; when my kids get helium filled balloons, we "let them go" outside after a day or so and we stare into the driveway for 5 minutes or so and watch them fly into the sky until they disappear.

It's like anti-gravity littering, which can't be as bad.

This weekend, my family threw a surprise party for me and gave me a whole bunch of big, silvery mylar balloons. So, this morning, we were letting them go outside:

8 year old: "Wow, those balloons are shiny!"

Mick: "Yeah, these kind reflect the sun and you can see them from way far away."

5 year old: "Oh two of them are splitting apart and got a divorce!"

8 year old: "Dad, how far away are they now?"

Mick: "Probably over the highway."

8 year old: "Some guy is going to be driving on the highway and see those balloons and say 'what the hell is that!?'"

I corrected her. I'm blaming the whole thing on my brothers staying for the weekend.

So, today I was chuckling about this to myself. That ain't too bad if my kid hasn't spoke a single adult foul word until she was 8 years of age.

I gave myself a pat on the back.

Then, later, I was checking out the files on the digital camera...

...and I found blurry pictures of bare 5 and 8 year old fannys.

I erased them faster than you could say "grand jury trial".

Please help me.

Ain't gonna happen...

I am very fortunate to work at a community college where I bump elbows with a wide demographic spectrum of people.

Many of these people are young adults. I find myself straddling the two roles:

I serve as a source of guidance to the people who truly do not have their shit together. And there are quite a few of those. I'll spare the detail.

But, I also find myself impressing upon young people that being out in the working world and having responsibility doesn't necessarily mean you have to lead a boring life or abandon things that you did when you were younger. If anything, clinging to these kinds of things helps you less resent the responsibilty that life thrusts upon you.

Case in point; as I type this, I have a splitting headache and my ears are ringing, because I went to a club until 1am to see one of my favorite ska/punk acts. And, I got a little boozy and woozy in the process. I was the 3rd oldest person there and was (for sure) the only guy drinking chardonnay at the bar.

Back in September, I was standing on the registration line to help a student register into the last available slot in a chemistry course. They let me bypass the line, but I always feel "elitist" and guilty about doing this. So, I was standing next to a young man who was wearing a T-shirt with The Briggs on it. I struck up a conversation with him about how I saw The Briggs at a club when they opened for The Toasters. Dude didn't quite expect to hear this from a guy with greying hair wearing dockers and a button down shirt. he was a nice guy.

Back to last night; a guy with a red dyed mohawk approaches me at the Mustard Plug show.

"Do you teach at Sinclair?" he asked.

"Yeah." I replied.

"I'm the guy with The Briggs shirt!".

"Hope you don't have an early class tomorrow". I said.

We shook hands. Not the regular way, but the cool way with the thumbs extended upward.

And we agreed that Mustard Plug friggin' rocks!

So, as I approach 40, I thought it was maybe a time for me to start to mature and conserve myself a bit.

Give up cycling road racing? Ain't gonna happen.

Stop going to see rock bands at clubs mid-week? Ain't gonna happen.

Grow up? Ain't gonna foopin' happen.

Done typing now? Gonna happen.