In Memory of Squeek The Fish 2008-2009

Squeek The Fish finally succumbed to a long and cowardly battle with intestinal problems and passed away last night in his fishy sleep. Ironically, he chose to exit this world on the first Friday of Lent, a very popular night for Catholic fish frys.



He was one year old, we think. We also think he was in fact, a "he".

But, the memory of Squeek lives on. The hallmark of his life were certainly the signature poo-trails of stunning length.


His bowlmate, Goldie, seems to be taking it quite well. As a matter of fact, a few days prior to Squeek's death, she showed us that the torch of voluminous poopiehood had been passed to her, and she was more than willing to carry it.


Wow! I'm sure Squeek's watchin' you up in fishy heaven. And, he is proud.

Just like I am.

You go, girl.

You go.

Cod Killa'

* thump thump thump thump *

...M.C. Mackerel is in the Houuuuuuuuuuse!




Bloop!...bloop!...bloop!...bloop!...

* drum fill *

Yeaaahhhhhh...

now put your fins up in th' air
and swish 'em around like you're fresh-caught fare
'cus Lent is the time of year
when I be snatchin' up salmon like a big brown bear!

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa'
Batter dip, fry and sprinkle malt vinega'
Cod killa', thank God it's Fry-day
Cus baby Fish stick time is the highlight 'o my day!

I'm headed on down to Catholic church
for the semi-annual fish fry
For days I been dreamin' 'bout some perch
and hangin' with my homies while I'm rollin' that die

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa'
My breath be stinkin' like I was Godzilla
Cod Killa', get outa my way
cod liver f***in' oil be my Vitamin A!

I don't matter how you prepare it
I'll eat any damn thing in the sea
But sorry Charlie, I don't share it
Don't deprive me of 'da omega-3!

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa
I'm downing hush puppies with the wafers of 'da Nilla
Cod Killa', don't be no fool
You ain't got the caviar to swim in my school!

* synthesizer riff *

Yo!, Take the skin off and 'da bones out y'all, M.C Mackerel sayin' peace out!

* fadeout *

The Octagon's Purpose Has Been REVEALED!

The eight-sided enigma that sits atop my Dad's house has a definite purpose, so sources close to my Dad (so close, in fact that they actually are my Dad), have revealed.

This project was motivated by my Dad's strong ire for the power company, which sits just just behind Nazi Germany and The Democratic National Party as his most hated organizational empires.

The structure will use infrared radiation from sunlight to heat the air inside. This warm air will then be pumped into the house where it will join the hot air produced by Dad, the cold 55 degree air that fills the majority of the house and the high levels of radon that creep up through the basement.

I'm going to give my Dad credit and say this seems like a brilliant idea and I hope it works out well.

Now, if we only knew what the orange cone was for...

Some thoughts about triglyceride

It seems only fitting on this day to talk about Triglyceride. Because, today is Fat Tuesday.

Triglyceride is what we call "fat". It's a semi-liquid substance with a glycerol backbone and three fatty acids. It is used for energy reserves helps to insulate you and cushion your organs.


The problem is, after winter, many people feel like their organs are too cushioned. I see some people who's organs are so cushioned they can barely walk. What kind of impact are they bracing for? I would suspect their knowledge of their organs are being extra cushioned isn't much of a consolation to them. I mean, how valuable is it that your organs be cushioned anyway? Have you ever heard of a thin person having an accident someone would have normally lived through but that particular person didn't make it through because their organs weren't cushioned enough?

"Poor Chuck, he had a lack of spleen cushioning and it dun' ruptured when he fell out that ten story buildin'..."

So, if you agree that organ cushioning is a bit overrated, what shall you do to shed some of your extra triglyceride?

Well, first of all, you need to think of yourself having a caloric budget. And, then you need to spend calories like our government spends taxpayer money. Well, under periods of war or republican administrations at least. Actually, I think those two are pretty much the same thing.

The weather is getting nicer outside. Maybe it's time for a caloric stimulus package? Do this by indiscriminately spending calories on anything no matter how useless it is, just for the sake of it because it's better than doing nothing. That's why you see fitness walkers moving their arms in such a silly fashion. Be comforted by the fact that there no possible way nature will allow for you to add triglyceride if you spend more calories than you take in. Sure, your body can burn carbohydrate and protein, but I don't want to complicate this article by presenting too many truths.

Fat has 9 calories of energy per gram. A pound of fat is 454 grams or 4,086 calories. So, if you run for an hour expending 809 calories and then refuel by eating a 250 calorie Clif Bar and wash it down with a 110 calorie Old Milwaukee Light, that's a calorie deficit of 449 calories. Just make sure the Clif Bars aren't the peanut ones, or you'll really lose weight, if you know what I mean.

So, do that 8 more times and over the long term you will have used up a pound of fat. Yay. No South Beach, no Atkins, no Weight watchers. Just burning through calories like the US Government or a person who is a credit risk.

Failure to do this, might cause further inflation.

Are you still reading this? I have a feeling some of you are just skimming and now the calculation part has scared you off. Please comment specifically to prove to me you read this part.

Realize, this is much easier said than done. Most people can't run for an hour. Also, it's hard not to overeat, because triglyceride tastes good it is certainly pretty hot and tempting. I happen to be lucky enough to sit here and pontificate because I am hyper active and I eat like a bird because I can't burp. So, I must admit, it's easy for me to say and maybe I'm being a bit insensitive.

So treat it as food for thought.

Happy Triglyceride Tuesday.

Don't be a lardass.

I Got Toasted in the Church Parking Lot

On their web site, I noticed my favorite ska band, The Toasters, had a gig in Indianapolis.

So, I went.

But wait, there's more!

The venue was someplace called "ES Jungle". Sounded very tropical and enticing. And, what with this weather and a late day at work the next day, I decided it would be worthwhile to embark on a little adventure. ES Jungle didn't have a web site. Somewhere, it was referred to as "Indy's newest all ages venue." I was wary of the term "all ages" which usually means ages 18-20.

Oh well.

I mapquested it and brought my GPS thingy and pointed my car west for two hours.

I finally arrived at the exact location and found myself in the suburbs surrounded by ritzy quarter million dollar houses. Not the typical location for a club or bar. So, I drove back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and I still couldn't find anything remotely resembling a ES freakin' Jungle.

I called my wife. God bless her for letting me go on this safari, let alone providing remote technical support. She got on the web and verified I had the correct address and I was sitting right at the exact spot. The only thing nearby was a church across the street. I figured see if I could ask some of the nice Christian people attending Wednesday night mass if they knew about ES Jungle.

Turns out, the church is ES Jungle. Church was not in session. And, the stage was in the church hall downstairs.

There were some punkers outside smoking and I got right to asking the vital questions:

"When do The Toasters play?"

"Does this place have a bar?"

30 minutes and no it kinda sucks.

Church or no church, there's something wrong about attending a show completely sober. So, I went to a little quicky mart down the road and bought a small box of chardonnay, the little kind with 3 glasses of wine in them. And I drank it down, fast. I used to like chardonnay. It's not meant to be drank fast. But, I beat 30 minutes, for sure by like..27 minutes.

I went in, payed my cover and watched the show with the kids. Sans Buck, the singer and guitarist of 28 years, I was the oldest guy there. The place is even run by kids.

They were nice kids. And, I had a good time. Maybe the most fun I've ever had in church. Well, next to the time when we were kids and my brother did situps when nobody was looking in the back of the choir loft during mass. That was hilarious.

Oh. So, boy, that wine hit me. After their set, I prepared to point my car to Dayton and enjoy the nice tailwind.

But, I was tired and seeing double from the wine slam, conditions not conducive to highway driving.

So, I curled up in the back seat, used my sport jacket from work as a blankey and slept in the parking lot of ES Jungle Church.

It seemed like a very safe parking lot. Especially for a jungle.

Just for perspective: I'm 40 years old and I got drunk on 3 glasses of wine and slept in the parking lot of a church and I have work the next day.

I woke up 90 minutes later, freezing my arse off, car covered with snow.

Then, I drove home in the snow just in time to go to bed at 3:30am.

I have a headache.

So, let's review.

• Don't slam wine
• Don't go to ES Jungle if you expect to drink casually while your band plays
• Sleeping in a car in February is cold.
  

Bye.

Huge Bouncy Breasts

Actually, that title has nothing to do with what I'm writing about. I was just using it to get your attention.

Back in December, I bought the Fender starter kit and now me and my new P-bass are buddies. We've been jamming by ear to CD's in the basement together.


Ain't she purdy?

Like all dedicated musicians, I have been practicing at least 7 minutes every other day and now, I can play a grand total of four songs.

Three of the four songs, I play quite shittily, making all sorts of buzzy sounds and missing notes. But one, I can play goodly.

Thank God for Social Distortion. Social Distortion is everything I don't embrace in a band, which primarily is popularity and coolness. I don't prefer my rock stars to be tattooed, gel-headed, leather jacket wearing, herpes carrying, narcissistic renegade rebels of rock. I wanna start a band of guys wearing lab coats. But, these guys made a song I can play virtually during my sleep. This droning, shallow, generic stuff can come in quite handy. When I need a good confidence booster, I crank Highway 101 and we have a good old, self-esteem building session. My kids like it. And, now that I can play it, I might as well come out of the closet and say that I like it too. This song is kind of like a family member now. Maybe you wouldn't be friends under ordinary circumstances, but you have to love it because it's part of your life.

I'm discovering that some of the music I like has very complicated bass lines. I'll listen to a song and say to myself...

"I can play that!"

which turns into...

"Oh, that part will be tricky."

and becomes...

"No way in hell can I do that. Oh well..."

Wednesday night, I think I'll go see The Toasters. After all, somebody's got to. The bass lines in that stuff are very intricate and that's what makes The Toasters tasty sort of ear-candy. I'll go up front to watch one of my favorite bassists. Except, he won't be there. He left the band because he had a baby. Well, he didn't have the baby, his wife did. Or, maybe it was his girlfriend. I dunno. But, I'm gonna watch a bass player after trying to be a bass player, and that should be a new experience.

So, what I'm trying to say is...

I don't know what I am really trying to say. I kinda lost it.

Thanks for reading, though.

Enjoy Love Responsibly

With Valentine's Day approaching fast, I would like to share some of the hot, juicy, romantic details of my love life.

But, I won't.

See how that works?

I work at a college. I see lovers all the time. The lounge outside my office is a virtual heavy petting zoo. This quarter, I am blessed with two students in my lab section who are constantly whispering to each other and pawing at each other under the table and not paying attention to anything but their personal love universe while I'm telling them about what they should do if they spill acid on themselves.

Hmmm.....maybe there is justice in this world...

People experiencing intense feeling of romantic love (which at any point in time, encompasses about 0.8 % of the human population) have been bestowed with one of life's great experiences. There is nothing quite like that feeling that overcomes your mind and causes another person to seem so perfect, despite the fact that she has a third nipple and her uncle axe-murdered that store clerk. And, you're lucky enough that she feels likewise despite the fact that you pooed yourself on that day-hike in the park? This kind of love is a tasty, intense, experience. Yes, a tasty, intense temporary experience. And, I think, for the sake of the other 99.2%, we should try to enjoy this experience with some degree of sobriety and modesty.

Why?

Well, if you have to ask, it's probably because you are part of that 0.8% and your naughty bits are feeling quite tingly and enjoying nice blood flow. But, the blood flow is starving the part of your brain that causes you to feel empathy for the others around you. Others who might be lonely. Others who have not found that special person yet. Others who are no longer in the mind-blowing phase of the relationship where it seems their partner farts rose petals. Others who are trying to get some work done while you and your soul mate fornicate on the couch in the student lounge.

That's okay Romeo. Loss of empathy is one of the side-effects of the drug you're on.

But, maybe you could just tone it down a bit?

Now, in the age of Facebook and MySpace, we have PDDA's.

Public Digital Displays of Affection...

The wall posts and status updates. Where each person publicly proclaims their love to each other so the world can see. How romantic.

* gag *

It makes one wonder...

If you are completely secure with your self and your relationship, wouldn't you be a bit more self-contained? Why the need to broadcast?

The other 99.2% already knows you're lucky. And, hopes you should enjoy this phase.

But...

I think it's most respectful to others, your partner and your self if you enjoy it quietly, to yourselves.

And, don't operate heavy machinery.

At least for another two years.

Happy Valentine's Day.

To 100% of you all.

How Ohio Telefile Could Finally Raise That $1 for the Ohio Political Party

* gentle, sexy female computer automated voice *

"Welcome to Ohio TeleFile! Please press 1 if you've been a good boy. Press 2 if you've been a naughty boy"

* 2 *

"Oh my! You pressed 2 and have been a naughty boy. You must now submit to Queen Aphrodite, your computerized secret call girl. Press 1 to submit and continue..."

* 1 *

"You must now slide $1 for the Ohio Political Party between the strap of my lace thong panties and my bare hip. Press 1 to donate $1 this way..."

* 1 *

"Would you like to donate another dollar to The Ohio Political Party? Press 1 to slide a dollar underneath the strap of my lacy push-up bra..."

* 1 *

* 1 *

You pressed 1 twice, and donated two dollars, you frisky, frisky boy! Would you like to see where else can put a dollar for The Ohio Political Party?

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 * ...

Hey, I'm not quite sure, but...

...I may have just finished a MGD 64.

It could have been a dream, though...

...a dream where someone soaked a rag in real beer and lightly touched it to my lips.

So, I'll get back to you on that.

Bye.

University of Buffalo Athletics Has Reached Another Level!

The University of Buffalo football team won it's first MAC title in 2008 and was subsequently invited to The International Bowl, the first college bowl game it ever attended.

The basketball team is currently 16-5 and sitting first place in the MAC East.

But that all means nada compared to what I saw Friday:

I was in the library at work wayyyy down here in Dayton, Ohio and a guy walked by wearing a leather black and blue UB jacket. When I saw this, my eyes popped out and I immediately ejaculated the words:

"I went to UB!"

Dude shot me a puzzled look.

"That jacket. I went to the University of Buffalo!"

"Is that what this is?", he asked, and then proceeded to take off his backpack and show me the back of the jacket which had the logo of the UB Bull emblazoned on it.

"Then, what's this?" As he turned around and showed me his back.

"That's the UB Bull!"

"It's not a Buffalo?"

"No, it's a Bull. A blue freaking bull!", I asserted.

"Oh. Someone gave me this jacket."

* Translation: he bought it at Goodwill. *

But, that's cool. No, it's really cool. Because it confirms to me that my alma mater has reached another level of college athletics.

Let me 'splain.

There's the level of athletics where hardly anyone knows your team and you live in total obscurity. UB has finally crawled out of that pit. Now, they enjoying the next quantum level where people wear your shit for a while and then trade it into the Goodwill. Then, other people think it looks cool and wear it even when they don't know what the hell it is.

So, congratulations, University of Buffalo. You finally made it to the level where people wear your shit and don't know what the hell it is.

Next stop, people wearing your stuff because it's cool, and then swear it's their favorite team. But, they like the team just because the stuff looks pretty and they don't really know jack about the heritage of the team itself.

That's where the North Carolina Tarheels got started. And, look where they are now.

Go UB.

I would have offered to buy dude's jacket off him. But, he was a little stinky.

Oh My Gawd, it's Credit Fraud!

Yesterday, my wife called me and asked if I made a $3,900 purchase on my credit card.

"Did you buy a bike or something?", she asked.

* mental note: wife didn't seem too upset when she thought I bought a bike 3 times more expensive than my finest road weapon *

"Ummm...NO!"

"Then you better call this number and talk to the credit card people, someone is using our credit card!"

"Gulp!", I gulped.

So, I called the credit card company. They have special people assigned to monitoring your purchasing activity. They work at a desk with a computer which has a monitor with a rotating police light and siren on top. I don't know what their official title is, but I think it would be neat if these people were called Cardian Angels. When strangers steal your credit card numbers and pull all sorts dishonest shenanigans, this triggers alerts in their supercomputer and makes the computer siren sound off and the lights spin around and light up. The Cardian Angel immediately suspends your credit card account and calls you on the phone. This process works great every time I cross state lines and try to buy gasoline.

Yesterday, my Cardian Angel, who's name is Klefkskiptuma, or something that sounds like that called me and informed me that someone made a bunch of purchases, including several $500 purchases and finally a big, whopping $3,900 purchase, which was finally shot down.

This could only mean one thing; someone fun stole Mick's credit card.

So, they closed my account and the nice credit card company is sending me shiny new cards with new numbers that won't be stolen for a few months.

And, that's the end of the story.

Oh, wait, no it isn't, because Mick doesn't just let sleeping dogs lie. When things like this happen, Mick becomes Agent Mick and launches a personal crusade to find the nasty number thief.

Agent Mick distinctly remembers one of merchants was Ritz Camera, the makers of the only disposable and edible camera, made from party crackers.

Agent Mick called Ritz camera and asked about the order that was placed yesterday. He wanted to know the delivery address for the almost $500 of merch that was ordered so he could report it to the police. The nice man at Ritz camera told him he couldn't tell him the delivery address, but could tell him the order number, so he could give that to the police.

This left Agent Mick wondering which police station he would call if he didn't know the delivery address, as well as wondering why he switched into telling this story in third person.

So, after some more badgering he found out the city was Central Islip, NY.

Which confirms something Agent Mick learned in college; many people from Long Island are a total pain in the ass.

Agent Mick is still hoping to get the full address, so we can all join together and send this person postcards from everywhere, telling him/her to get a real job, contribute positively to society and stop being such a jerk.

Agent Mick signing off for today.

1,847 Deaths Blamed on Winter Storm

Dayton, Ohio: The storm that dumped a foot of snow on the Midwest a week ago is still claiming lives.

Yesterday, a woman was impaled through the skull with an icicle as it fell from a building.

Three days ago, an elderly couple were shut in and had nothing to eat but peanut butter and died of Salmonella poisoning.

A man died of boredom when he was forced to talk to no one but his family for two whole days.

A pickup truck skidded off the road and smashed into a tree. That hardly ever happens so we'll blame that on the storm as well.

And then, there's snow shoveling.

"Most of the casualties we've been seeing are heart attacks and injuries from shoveling snow", said Dr. Ben Dover, emergency room physician.

But that was a week back. And, it caused a weak back. The snowstorm still continues to claim lives as people trod upon the snow back and forth to plan their Super Bowl parties and pack it down to form slippery ice. The snow also becomes more dense as it thaws and then freezes and then thaws and then freezes and then does everything but freaking vaporize so a guy can get his damn run in.

This was evidenced as a man tried walking on the sidewalk and fell and broke his hip. Another person reportedly drove by to see this and then stopped to rescue him only to fall on the ice and break his collar bone. A woman then stopped to help, but then fell and broke her neck, when all was over, 24 people were stuck there in a big pile of human bodies and subsequently died of hypothermia. People are having a hard time understanding how anyone knows the story to this incident, since everyone died and no one was around to record it, which makes it all sound a bit like the book of Genesis.

One of the dead victims did not comment.

Super Bowl Ramblings

Hey, did you guys watch the penalty bowl last night?

They should make football players take ballet lessons, so they get both toes in, like Santonio Holmes did.

And how about when Larry Fitzgerald caught that pass and was running for the go-ahead touchdown? And while he was doing so, did you see him check himself out on the big screen? That must be one of the coolest feelings in the world. Watching yourself run for a touchdown, in the super bowl, on the big screen, while you're doing it. Must be kinda like having a mirror on the ceiling in your bedroom except even better. Or, maybe it's not like that all, really, because the whole world is watching you and that might be kind of embarrassing.

Finally, I have established a new tradition. My brother is a complete sports nut. He takes it very seriously. As I get older, I am starting to come to the realization that emotionally investing yourself a lot in sports is not really healthy because you can't control the outcome. My brother has a lot of stress in his life and I am going to try to hammer the point across by calling him at the most inopportune times during big sporting events.

Like last night:

* Kicker's foot has just struck the ball for opening kickoff *

* Phone ringing *

John in Buffalo: "Hello?" * people's voices in the background *

Mick in Dayton: "Hey John, what's up?"

John: "We're having a party and the Super Bowl is on!"

Mick: "Oh Yeah? How's things going? How's life?"

John: "Fine. Why are you talking so weird?"

Mick: "Oh, I'm just calling to check on ya..."

John: "Oh...Well, we're having a party here, so..."

Next call will be the moment the green flag drops at the Daytona 500.