Christmas advice from a convict?

Now, I don't want to complain about any gift I received- because to me the thought is far more important than the quality of the gift. But I find this rather odd...

 

Co-worker gave out Christmas cards with a few pieces of chocolate. Very nice, conveys the spirit of the season, etc. etc. I appreciated it. Today, I finally got around to eating the candy- some pieces of Dove Milk Chocolate. Good stuff. Tasted great. But the wrappers have me perplexed:

 

"Embellish store-bought biscotti: dip it in chocolate"- Martha Stewart, one wrapper proclaimed.

 

"Send a thank you note within two weeks of receiving a gift"- Martha Stewart, another proclaimed.

 

Did my co-worker give out really old chocolate? Or does Dove think people care what Martha Stewart has to say?

 

I sure as f*** don't. She's a FELON. A Thief. She was in frickin' prison. Should she be giving out ANY advice, other than: "Don't break the law"? No.

 

I know, she still has a TV show and lots of housewives and grandmas still watch her. Despite the fact she is a convicted felon. Meanwhile, Tiger Woods is getting dropped from sponsorships because he committed adultery- something that ISN'T a crime in the United States.

 

WTF?!

 

I don't condone Mr. Woods' acts- they're reprehensible. And I applaud any company that drops his sorry ass. He is clearly NOT role model material. But why the hell is Martha Stewart, a CRIMINAL, still being fawned over?

 

 

I was quite crushed to learn today I missed out on a Crow T Robot figurine with the boxed set for the 20th Anniversary of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

 

I was a huge fan of MST back in the 90s. In fact, when I was stationed in Germany, the Satellite News (MST3K's fan newsletter) was some of the only mail I ever received. Yep, where my family didn't write me, the good folks at Best Brains sure did...

 

Now, years, later, I am rediscovering my beloved Satellite of Love episodes thanks to Netflix. I appreciate the show even more now- seeing episodes I was deprived of whilst in Germany. Even better, compared to a lot of the smut on TV these days, I can watch MST3K with my 4 year old and 10 year old daughter. And they love it.

 

But what I discovered today was that in addition to every episode of this long-running series being released on DVD, a while back they released a special commerative set that included a tiny Crow T Robot figurine. Man, my kids would love to see that added to the hotwheels, spaceships, etc. etc. adorning the walls of my movie room. But I missed it.

 

I know, I know - instead of being cheap and watching the episdes on Netflix, or even my old VHS copies from when the show was still being aired, I should be buying shiny new DVDs. Then I would know about Crow.

 

Darn kids, with their expensive clothes, shoes, school, etc. etc.

 

And now I see that there's a Tom Servo figurine out as well. He comes with Boxed Set XVI, which runs about $55.

 

WHAT?!

 

I loves me some MST3K, but 4 movies, four CRAPPY movies (that was the point of MST3K) for $55 seems like an awful lot to pay. I can watch the episodes on Netflix for free!

 

Why, oh why, can't they just sell the Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot figures as stand alones? I'd pay $60 for a Cambot, Tom, Gypsy and Crow!

 

Worse, as I talk abotu MST3K on Netflix, I realize that Netflix had to purchase the special Crow and Tom Servo boxed sets in roder to rent them. What then happened to all the little Crow and Tom Servo figures? Were they thrown in the trash? Ground up? Taken home by minimum wage workers who gave them to kids oblivious to MST3K's very existence?!

 

Oh, the humanity! Think of the fans that would have thrilled to own the bots!

 

And how do I buy the Tom Servo set now, but not the Crow? Tom Servo is incomplete without Crow! Imagine R2D2 without C3PO? Or Starsky without Hutch...

 

So I plead to you Best Brains- please! For the Love of all Misties everywhere- make us a 4 Bot giftpack! We'll pay money for it and everything!

The Office "Christmas Party" or Holiday Soup line?

My dear parent, Television, has clearly shown me over the years what an "Office Christmas Party" is. It's when a bunch of people who work in an office celebrate the holidays together- often consuming holiday fare, maybe some alcohol, possibly at the workplace, and possibly with a date in tow.

 

That's not quite how it happens at my office.

 

No at my office, it's a huge fustercluck orchestrated by the office biddies as they play "tea party". First, they demand with Gestapo-like tactics that everyone commit to bringing a specific dish by signing a sheet. It's like ACORN trying to put together a democrap event. Then when they don't like what you're bringing, they surround you and complain with such brilliant statements as "we don't have any real food- it's all sweets". Yeah, cause you're always seeing salads and shit like that at Christmas Parties. Why just last year we gave out grilled bratwursts to the christmas carolers that came to our house. Not.

 

It's Christmas, you dipshits! You're SUPPOSED to eat cookies, cakes, pies and fattening shit like that! Go to a f***ing restaurant if you want to eat "real food".

 

Next, the biddies abandon their normal work to "decorate"- hanging ornaments and crap all over the Office in what they must imagine is some sort of clever interior decorating gambit. I suppose they see unicorns and mermaids too. It's a frickin' OFFICE, people! No matter how much tinsel you throw around, it's still an OFFICE. For f***'s sake, our office doesn't even have carpet! Yeah, real homey feeling...

 

But it's just not the biddies having tea with Mrs. Nesbitt that iritate me. No, it's the assholes that volunteer to bring shit like "syrup". Syrup?! Are you f***ing kidding me? Who the f*** brings syrup to a "pitch-in"? Maybe if you also brought along some pancakes or waffles. Or if SOMEONE in the office was bringing them, and maybe it was imported f***ing syrup. Lazy prick. Next year I bet they bring "salt and pepper". Or maybe some f***ing mustard.

 

Me, I go out of my way, to the local Sam's Club, fighting through the shuffling zombie shoppers to buy a platter of the best damn brownies on planet earth. Sure, it's a huge pain in the ass to buy just brownies, so I end up spending a bunch of money for stuff for my kids. Dammit, I have some Christmas spirit.

 

Morning of the party, the biddies are getting the tea party all laid out- napkins here and there, empty chairs for the mermaids and unicorns. We are told we have to wait until 10 AM to start eating.

 

Apparently, that doesn't apply for Mrs. Nesbitt. Seems one of the bitches, er-, biddies, has her husband (and not Buzz Lightyear- it was a "Toy Story" reference) come in and start scarfing down food a half hour early. You know, buffets have a f***ing sneeze shield for a reason. I sure don't want to eat anything that was sitting right in front of some bastard slobbering and laughing and chewing with his mouth open, having a jolly old f***Ing time while my stomach starts to digest itself.

 

But wait, at five minutes until kick off time, all the moochers show up! No, wait, maybe they aren't moochers- they were f***ing invited by the boss after all. No, they weren't required to bring a dish, and no they aren't any of our staff's spouses or anything. Nope, just f***ers that happen to work in our building. And of course, they have flapped their slobbering jaws all morning long in anticipation of all that free food, so now the whole f***ing building knows there's food in our office.

 

Oh, joy, now the pitch-in is a soupline. Now I get to pick at leftovers that survived the guest stampede. Oh, and that not only have my co-workers coughed, laughed, sneezed and otherwise exhaled all over, but I get the germs of all the hundred-plus other people that might show up, but with whom I have little to no contact the rest of the year, despite the fact we all work in the same building. Pass.

 

No, instead, I'll sit at my computer, eating a f***ing bag of chips, trying to figure out why I can't print on letterhead from the printer (cause I had to get a new f***ing hard drive this week and now my PC is all messed up)

 

Merry Christmas, assholes.

 

Good thing I bought an extra platter of brownies for myself last night. At least I'll get some of the f***ers when I get home.

 

If the kids haven't eaten them all, yet...

 

THOR'S DAY RANT: EGGROLLS FOR CHRISTMAS

I have been doing my best to keep my Christmas spirit, but you people are really trying my damned patience.

 

All the fast-driving, parking space-stealing, zombie-walking, rude m*therf***ers are really driving me over the edge. Then my damned computer at work crashed- Hard Drive wore out. Was able to save a bunch of data, but lost emails, address book, macros, etc. etc.

 

Can someone explain to me why you idiots race through parking lots like Mario F***ing Andretti, then wander and block the aisles of the stores like crippled zombies on fly paper?

 

And what happened to holding doors open for people? Giving money to the Salvation Army Bell Ringers?

 

In all my postal/induced rage, I have seen, one, ONE f***ing instance of people with some damned Christmas spirit. The folks at Chick Fil-A.

 

Yep, the kids (none of them appear to be out of high school) working our local Chick Fil-A are always peppy, friendly and polite. Unlike McDonald's, or even Dairy Queen, where "thank you" and "come again" are rarities, the Fil-A crew is always in a good mood. Year round.

 

That got me thinking.

 

Again, I am going to ask- why the hell can't you people have some f***ing civility around the holidays? Chick Fil-A has it year round. And they aren't the only ones. I've never been in a Chinese restaurant where I wasn't treated like the King of Siam. Why is it the Chinese and the Chicken-slingers can get it right, three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days a damn year, and the rest of you can't do it for one damn month? Or even the twelve days of Christmas?!

Clearly, you're all a bunch of self-centered pricks. You're so worried about Christmas turning out the way you want, about you not having to park in the back forty at the store, etc. etc. that you vent your rage on those around you at precisely the time of year when you are supposed to behave with civility.

 

F***ing disgraceful.

 

Have any of you dumbasses ever seen any of the twelve-plus "Christmas Carol" movies? They weren't an example of f***ing Christmas hauntings. It's the story of a sorry asshole who learns what Christmas is all about. Watch it. You'll learn something.

 

What a bunch of assholes. Too bad the Mexican Flu didn't sweep through the country and give people something to be grateful for (surviving it) in its wake. Then we might actually have a wave of National Goodwill.

 

I guess if I want any Christmas spirit outside of my home, I have to Eat More Chikin.

 

 

Tis the Season Report: Donuts!

So I'm driving to work today, trucking along about 33mph when this woman pulls out in front of me, crossing the road I am on from my left to my right. Worse, after pulling out, she actually slows down, forcing me to slam on my brakes. She then proceeds slowly across the road as I'm laying into my horn.

 

Her destination?

 

The donut shop. She had to cross the road I was driving on (and on which I had the right-of-way) to go get some damn donuts.

 

Now there are three really good reasons she shouldn't have done this:

 

1. It was illegal. I had the right of way.

 

2. It's the Christmas season- you're supposed to be on your best manners, not your worst, this month. You should hold open doors for others, let others go first, etc. etc.

 

3. I was having a bad morning already, and if my wife and 4 year old weren't in the car with me, I think I would have rammed her. The thought actually crossed my mind.

 

Let me rewind...

 

Last night we had all these storm warnings that it was going to be horrifically windy, power could go out, etc. etc. So I stayed up late, washing clothes, charging all the portable electronics etc. I also washed my work boots, then found out that I couldn't dry them in the dryer. The shoe-drying tray for our dryer had vanished- stored away somewhere by the missus.

 

I awoke this morning, and find my boots didn't air-dry yet. Nice. Nothing like starting your day with damp boots. Anticipating some mildew on the boots, I started looking for the aerosol can of Lysol to spray them down. Can't find it. It's vanished. The missus then gets me the Febreeze instead. And starts spraying the outside of the boots.

 

After explaining the boots don't stink on the outside, I take the Febreeze and spray one boot inside, wondering if Febreeze can prevent mildew- I thought it was for masking odors AFTER they form. I go to do the next boot, and WHAM! The bottle falls off the spray handle, hitting the floor and sending up a jet of Febreeze. All up my pant leg, and from my belt to armpit. Nice. Now I get to smell all girly-fresh all day. And hopefully, Febreeze doesn't stain.

 

Then there's the normal three ring circus of getting a 4 year old ready for Grandma's; a 10 year old ready for school; the wife ready for work; and the dog- who got to stay inside today because of all the "wind damage" being predicted by local weathermen.

 

By the time we pull out of the driveway in our little family motor pool, we're already late. And I'm grinding my teeth and ready to go all Postal on someone.

 

Then Ms. Donut-head has to pull out right in front of me.

 

Would a jury have convicted me if I had accelerated and rammed into her car?

 

I sure hope she was having some frickin' donut emergency- although at her leisurely speed, I doubt it.

Savor the Season- Don't Inhale the Holiday

People annoy me. I know that's not a very Christian way to be- especially at this time of year- but  I just can't seem to shake it.

 

Take for instance, just a few moments ago. On the elevator. I'm in the basement at work, waiting for an elevator to haul my butt back upstairs. Oh, sure, I took the stairs down, but gravity was working with me. I wanted to laugh in the face of Global Warmers and make a big carbon footprint and ride the electric elevator back to my point of origin.

 

Ding! The doors opened, and there's like 6 damned people in the elevator. None of whom step out. These lazy bastards not only couldn't take the stairs, but they couldn't be bothered to wait for an elevator going up. No they had to all crowd into the elevator going down- leaving no room for me to ride it up. They couldn't wait a few minutes for the next elevator.

 

It's shit like that that drives me crazy.

 

You'd think that at this time of year- the Christmas season- people could behave better. I mean, we are supposed to be celebrating the fact we don't have to burn offerings, do nothing on the Sabbath or otherwise follow Jewish tradition to stay out of Hell. Jesus Christ was born to offer mankind an easy way to live forever.

 

But no.

 

Instead of being grateful and celebrating Jesus' bithday, everyone has to rush around, with no damn manners, caring only about themselves. They steal parking spaces. They crowd aisles in stores. They're jerks on the phone. You know, I realize that's how you people are year-round, but could you for one f*cking month behave civilized?

 

This is the season for "Goodwill to men". When we are supposed to be neighborly and nice and enjoy  ourselves. People can do it at drunken New Year's Eve parties, so why not for the Christmas season?

 

I could see it if you didn't believe in Christ or Christmas. You know, if you didn't put lights on your house, or buy presents or otherwise celebrate the day. But when you do celebrate Christmas- even in your own, twisted, heathen way- why do you want it to be over so quick?

 

Why must people suck the holiday down, rushing around, as though they were gulping down breakfast on their way to work when running late?

 

Enjoy the holiday, you dumbasses. Take your time. Savor this time of year. Don't race through parking lots on your way to a discount. Don't stress. Just chill, and relax. Pretend you're a hippy or something.

 

Every year, the day after Christmas, my wife starts harping about taking down decorations. I counter that the Three Wisemen didn't travel across the frickin' world, throw some presents at Baby Jesus' feet and say "See ya later". No they stuck around, they celebrated. They weren't in any hurry to leave.

 

That same lesson should hold true for the whole month. Kids seem to grasp this simple concept. They love the whole christmas season. Every day of it. And since we all started out as kids, there's no reason why we can't continue that tradition.

 

So chew your holiday slower- it'll last longer.  

Swifthack or ClimateGate?

Hmmm... seems the Melting Cult likes to call all those intercepted, conspirational emails from their priests of pollution "SwiftHack". This is of course a slam on the "deniers" (as they like to call them) and the whole ClimateGate email debacle.

 

See, the Melters can't stand to admit that the very foundation of their religion is false- as revealed by the emails. They claim the Earth's temperature is rising, yet the very emails I'm talking about say it isn't, and that this information must be kept from naysayers. Wow.

 

So what's with "Swifthack"? Well, on a lark, I wiki'd "Swiftboating" and sure enough, "swiftboating" is what the libtards call personal attacks. They derive this from the Swift Boat Vets who rallied against Hanoi John Kerry when he ran for President. The wiki page is hilarious, mentioning how all but a few of the accusations against Kerry couldn't be proven. Uh... that means some WERE proven. So swiftboating wouldn't be an accurate replacement for ad hominem. Yep, the leftards, who fancy themselves better than the rest of us, love to use big words. Ad Hominem is an attack on a person. As in, "Al Gore is a dumbass, so Global Warming can't be true". That would be an ad hominem argument, as it doesn't matter whether Al Gore is a dumbass or not- he could still be right on a subject despite his IQ. 

 

In effect then, the Melters claim that the emails do not sink the Global Warming boat, and that suggestions that they do are false. How that's an adhominem argument is beyond me. But then, the left is never known for logical thinking.  

 

Emails were hacked- True. Emails were between Melters- True. Emails detailed talk of concealing data andblocking peer review of "findings"- True.

 

You know the last time something big in science came up and others weren't allowed to test it, or couldn't test it, was Desktop (Cold Fusion). And the guys proposing it could be done were ridiculed. Science sure is impartial, isn't it?

 

What cracks me up is all the "scientists" who slap the word "science" on a theory and then hide behind the word like it's a religion. How dare we ignorant peasants question SCIENCE!

Global Warming and Santa Claus

Well, finally, Dr. Phil Plait, the Bad Astronomer, has commented on Climategate.

 

Until recently, I thought Dr. Plait was one of the coolest guys on the Internet. Then I started noticing that he constantly mocks and slams Creationism. I know, there's a lot there to mock, as many of the Creationists come across like Grade-A lunatics, but still, I gots to go by what the Bible tells me. But that's an argument for another time.

 

Nope, Dr. Plait has now clearly demonstrated his card-carrying membership in the Melting Cult.

 

"One reason I haven't talked about it is because I think it's a non-issue. These files are not evidence of fraud."

 

Uh, Dr. Plait, if scientists lied and conspired to misrepresent data to push the Anthroprogenic Global Warming idea (or whatever they call it), then yes, that is Fraud;

 

"fraud is an intentional deception made for personal gain or to damage another individual" (Courtesy wikipedia)

 

"You need to ask: do these emails and other hacked files change the actual science, the actual conclusions drawn by those scientists?"

 

Uh, yes, if data was changed, then yes, it should alter findings. I mean, if there are records showing a decrease in global temperatures, and it was changed to show an increase, then yeah, that's pretty altering.

 

"Bottom line? Yawn. Get back to me when you have equally overwhelming evidence that global warming is not happening, or if it is it's not anthropogenic. Then we can talk."

 

Geez, that's like saying "when you have overwhelming evidence that Santa didn't bring presents on Christmas morning, get back to me."

 

See, that's what we have here- a Santa-like argument.

 

Presents do appear every Christmas morning. It's a fact- like the supposed rise in global temperatures the Melters preach. But are that Clausprogenic or Parentprogenic? If you decide to test this theory after getting your presents, how can you prove it either way? Dust for prints? Just declare the idea that Santa can't exist as proof enough?

 

Santa is a real person, by Christian standards. St. Nicholas was present at the Council of Nicea, and helped lay the foundation of the Church. His tomb is regularly visited by thousands, every year. He's the frickin' Patron Saint of Pawnbrokers. And, again from a Christian perspective, if he was a Saint, then he is enjoying eternal life, alongside Jesus right now. Maybe he lives in Heaven, maybe at the Northpole. Maybe Heaven is at the Northpole?

 

But how do we know that Santa brought those presents? How do we know our parents didn't bring those presents? It's far more likely that our parents, who had access to the Christmas tree and stockings, and who were home Christmas night, left the presents. But it's still a theory, either way.

 

Global Warmers claim that man is responsible for global warming. But how do they know that the sun isn't responsible? The sun has been around for billions of years (if you're a Darwinist- thousands, if you're a Creationist). SUVs have only been around for what, 20 years? If the sun were responsible for changes in temperature, there'd be like, a historic record of that. You know, in periods where there were no SUVs. Like when the Vikings lived in Greenland.

 

Sorry, Melters, but there's far more evidence that Santa brings presents on Christmas morning, than there is that mankind is responsible for the Earth warming. Of course, you probably lie to your kids and tell them there's no Santa, too.

Lights UNDER Louisville

Now that the Christmas season is upon us, it's time to start planning that old family tradition of drving around to look at Christmas lights.

 

Every year, my family goes through this- we load up the kids, blankets and some hot chocolate then begin the drive around the county, seeking out neighborhoods with some Christmas spirit. Inevitably the kids get tired and cranky and the Christmas spirit falls victim to road fatigue.

 

The Louisville Mega-Caverns have solved this problem. They have a drive-thru light show underground.

 

Basically, the mega-caverns is a former underground quarry, that is now used as underground storage. A sort of subterranean warehouse. Tours are offered throughout the year as portions of the site were once a civil defense shelter.

 

For the Christmas season, they've set up 35 displays of lights. The kind of displays normally seen in front of churches or schools, not generally in people's front yards. $20 a carload gets you in a slow, underground drive that takes 20 to 30 minutes.

 

Then you go home. Genius.

 

That's right, $20 for a sure thing. Enough lights to keep your kids happy, all just a short drive away from anywhere in the mteropolitan area.

 

I wouldn't recommend a manual transmission, though. The constant stop and go, despite the cheery Christmas spirit, would make manual shifting very annoying. And no need to worry about fumes. Fans larger than your car are set up to keep air circulating.

 

A great time for sure, and way easier than driving back and forth, looking for lit up neighborhoods.

 

 

Happy Veteran's Day

At first, I wasn't going to make this wish- seeing as how I'm a veteran. Sounds kind of weird to thank yourself. Then I remembered that it always seems that the only people who ever express this to me are family and other veterans.

 

That's lame.

 

Do you people realize what veteran's go through when they join the military? Let me put it in very simple terms for you: it's indentured servitude, ie, slavery.

 

When you're in the military, you don't get to go wherever you want. You're the property of the military and you do what they say. hell, you can't even put your hands in your pockets, or go without a hat, outside (unless you're off duty, of course). You can't call in sick because you want to stay home and play a new video game or sneak out of work early to go catch some new movie.

 

Then there's that whole risking-your-life-to-protect-others thing. I mention it last, because many civilians live in a candy-coated fantasy world where they think they have the "Right" to do whatever they want wherever they want. Take this 24 year old mother and college graduate I work with. She didn't know that people can't leave China without the government's permission. Political Asylum was a foggy memory she didn't fully recall from high school.

 

Here's the fact, slackers. Without the military, and the sacrifices of veterans, both in blood, and personal liberties, you would all be calling each other comrade, and working for the same money, or freezing to death while starving, in some Gulag in Alaska. The only thing that keeps other nations from coming in and taking whatever they want from your home is the armed men and women of your military.

 

Don't think we shoudl be in Iraq or Afghanistan? Fine, you're entitled to your opinion, as uneducated and civilian as it is. But how about for one damn day of the year you put that aside and thank all the current military members and veterans you know for guaranteeing you the right to express that opinion?

 

We'd really appreciate it.

Be Thankful for What You've Got

Now that Halloween is over, the stores are in full swing for Christmas- with decorations, toys and sales out in full force. And, if you look real hard, some Thanksgiving decorations are in there too.

 

I'm not really sure which angers me more- my wife trying to buy Thanksgiving decorations, the lack of them in the stores, or the fact that the stores basically overlook Thanksgiving.

 

Don't get me wrong- the birth of Jesus is very important. We should celebrate it. A lot. But somehow, I don't think that the aisles and aisles of tacky decorations, self-illuminated trees and Christmas Barbies are all that religiously significant. More like a way to seperate greedy fools from their money.

 

Thanksgiving is the celebration of being thankful for what we have- not of what we can get. We're all told the story as children of the poor pilgrims who didn't plan for winter and the indians (or Native Americans, if you prefer) brought them food and basically kept their dumb asses alive. The Pilgrims are very thankful in this tale. And our tradition of gorging ourselves and inviting others to our home to do the same comes from this thankfulness.

 

So should we be running out to buy up a bunch of turkey decorations? No. We should be happy with what we have. Make do with what we have and be grateful we have even that. Does that mean the stores' lack of turkey stuff mean they grasp the make do with what you have philosophy? No, they just want to get a jump on the holiday sales. And in so doing, they've brainwashed our populace into buy, buy, buy on November 1st.

 

So when you're out, driving like an idiot in an effort to steal parking spaces, or shuffling along like the undead in the stores, Christmas list in one hand, coupons in the other, be thankful. Be thankful for something. The coupons, the fact you have money to spend, or maybe the fact you live in a country that allows you the freedom to act so foolishly.

 

 

I am being haunted by the Spirit of BMW! Someone make it stop!

 

A few weeks ago, Electronic Arts, as a promotional gimmick for a new video game, NEED FOR SPEED: Shift, announced a contest where you could win copies of the game and one lucky bastard could win a brand new 2010 BMW M3 car! All from commenting on Twitter.

 

Now, normally, I don't enter contests like this. Because I never win anything. But something made me enter this contest. A feeling like, "I can win". And sure enough, I did win- a free book bag embroidered with "Need for Speed" on day 4 of the contest, and a copy of the game on day 5. Two wins in a row!

 

And Day 6? Well, it was really odd... but I started seeing BMWs. Everywhere. I live in the midwest, and I don't normally pay attention to the cars around me- unless it's a monster truck, antique or something truly out of the ordinary. But on Day 6, I started noticing BMWs. 5 of them in the 20 minute drive to work.

 

On the way home, I noticed several more. I talked to my wife about it. She was convinced it was a good sign- maybe I had won the BMW. Three's a charm, afterall. That night, I checked Twitter- but there was no announcement as to who won the BMW.

 

For the next week, the pattern continued- I'd see BMWs where ever I went. On one scary occasion, I pulled into a Sam's Club parking space- right up to a BMW. Yet, each day, there was no annoucement for the winner. But by now I was convinced I could actually have won. I have to admit, I was pretty excited- especially given my previous track record of never winning.

 

After about a week though, the thrilling idea that maybe I could finally have won something "big", had worn off. I began to consider exactly what would happen if I did win. For one, the car is too small. I'm 6'4", have a wife, two kids and a dog. And the M3 is not a very big car. More of a two door sports coupe. Can you imagine trying to pack the family AND groceries into such a tiny car?

 

And what about licensing and registration? Insurance? Vehicle maintenance? The idea of winning the BMW became downright scary. I decided that when I won my BMW I'd have to give it up. Despite turning 42 this month, I'm not going through any mid-life crisis, so I don't need a fast sports car. And why should I tighten up the family budget and make my family suffer for a car we all couldn't ride in together? No, I decided the right thing to do would be to sell the car, and get something roomier than my current Toyota Camry. Like a minivan or something. With DVD players for the kids.

 

And that is precisely when I jinxed myself. Counting my chickens before they hatched. Dreaming about how much the kids would love having a roomy minivan to ride around in and watch DVDs in. All because the Spirit of BMW was stalking me.

 

But you know what? They still haven't announced the winner!

 

And I keep seeing BMWs! Without fail, every time I go out, no matter where I drive, I see BMWs. It's like the Sixth M3 Sense or something. "I see Beemers...."

 

I accept I haven't won the BMW. Really. Clearly, the winner has been notified and they are confirming their eligibility (age, no connection with EA, etc. etc). I'm not depressed or anything. I knew I could never win anything that big. But I did get a great game for free and have enjoyed playing it on my Xbox 360.

 

But why do I keep seeing Beemers?! Is fate taunting me that I didn't win? Can there be that many people in suburban southern Indiana all of a sudden driving BMWs?!

 

When will it end?

 

Can I enter a contest for another car? Will that make it stop? Because there is no way I could ever afford a BMW, and given their size and inherent expensiveness, I don't think I'd ever want one. Heck, if I won the lottery, I wouldn't want a Beemer- despite their perfect manufacturing, I'd opt for something more rugged, roomy and off-roady, like a big-ass SUV. a BMW is NOT a family car.

 

I'm starting to wonder if the whole M3 contest wasn't a precognitive warning of my impending death. Am I about to be run over by a BMW? Is my fate to cross the street and get slammed by some inattentive yuppie Christmas shopper?

 

Aw, Humbug...

Woot.com Saves the Day!

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Tonight at 8: The Aliens are among us!

(The following article is written entirely tongue-in-cheek, so don't get your panties in a bunch)

 

 

 

Tonight, at 8PM on ABC, the Visitors are coming.

 

A remake of the classic 80s alien-infestation series comes to TV; the tale of aliens pretending to be friendly, but really are here to take over our world and eat us.

 

Sadly, life has imitated art, since the 1980s.

 

I'm talking, of course, about illegal aliens. And their parasitic brain worms.

 

Unlike David Icke, and his outlandish idea that reptilian aliens have infiltrated human government and are slowly working toward taking over the world (a plot he clearly lifted form the 1980s V series), I'm talking about the very real threat of illegal aliens from parts south.

 

First off, where do all these illegals come from? Estimates are that 11,000,000 live in the U.S. That's a pretty huge chunk of any population.

 

Secondly, I don't know about where you live, but the illegals in my area just don't look right. I know I only lived in California for two years, but the hispanic peoples there looked nothing like the folks I see here in sunny, Southern Indiana. There were gorgeous senoritas everywhere I looked in California. But here? Here I've seen a grand total of one, ONE, "gorgeous" senorita in the past two years. Working the drive thru at McDonalds.

 

For one, the illegals around here are tiny. Like, little green men, or "Greys" tiny. And they abduct people- or at least kids. There have been several cases in my county alone of these little brown men molesting children. Small but dangerous.

 

I am constantly passing micro hispanics, or Latinoputians, when I'm out, and I am amazed by how small they are. I don't recall seeing so many tiny people when I lived in California. And while I am heavier than I was those 15 years ago, I didn't get any taller.

 

Then there's the bulbous heads. In Japan, they'd be "super deformed" (look it up, it's a manga reference). They're like toddlers- little bodies, and huge heads.

 

Manners? Well, none of the latinoputians I see in this area seem to have any. They talk in overly loud voices, rambling their native tongue in what would be considered a rude fashion in any land, or language. There are no meek latinoputians I have encountered. I guess it could be called a Napolean-complex, but he was French...

 

I have come to the conclusion that these aliens I'm seeing aren't "mexicans" as so many call them, but replicant Mexicans. Or Mexicants. Sad copies of the hard working, friendly, pleasant, well-mannered, God-fearing people I got to know when I lived in California. Perhaps these mexicants are the dregs of their society, and moved to the mid-west because no one would accept them in California. That would explain the unusually high rate of crime the mexicant communities in our area have.

 

Or maybe they're aliens. Space aliens. Yeah, one of these days, some mexicant woman is going to peel off her face mask, revealing some hideous lizard face. Then she'll eat my hamster.

 

 

 

 

Someone assaulted every 30 seconds?

Okay, I think this is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever read...

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1224565/Random-attack-thugs-30-seconds-stranger-assaults-soar-binge-Britain.html#ixzz0Vjkwun38

 

I have a hard time believing EVERY 30 seconds... take, for example, the time period of 3:37:30 to 3:38:00. Does someone really get assaulted at this particular time, every day? Or what about 6:03:00 to 6:03:30... having lived in Europe, I can guarantee you that they are too busy rolling up the sidewalks and boarding up the windows to repel wolfmen and frankenstein monsters to do any assaulting.

 

Poppy cock.

 

Every 30 seconds indeed...

 

For that matter- do all victims have atomic watches? Does any Briton have an Atomic watch? Here in the U.S. Atomic Watches are updated from a radio signal in Kansas. I don't think the signal reackes the U.K.

 

How then do they know the precise time they were assaulted? Oh, sure, they might say, "I was walking down the street at 5;17 and 34 seconds, when suddenly this red-haired blighter with a cricket bat and red on his shirt whacked me in the head"... but really, do they know for sure that was the time?

 

Let's do some math... an attack EVERY 30 seconds means that two attacks are happening every minute. And 120 every hour. And 2,880 attacks every day. According to wikipedia, the U.K. has a populace of 59, 680,000. That means that every Briton is attacked once, every 56 years. Egads! With an average lifespan of 70-something, that means some Britons are being attacked more than once in their lifetimes! Didn't they learn anything the first time? Why can't they defend themselves?!

 

And who's doing the attacking? Those who were themselves attacked? Is this a viral attack-begets-attack situation? I knew the Brits went nuts at soccer games, but geeze...

 

And how many of the people being attacked are children? Infants? Britain sounds like a truly violent place...

 

 

PIRATING THE WINDOWS 7 WHOPPER

Okay, so I was reading the internet today and came across this great article about making your own Windows 7 Whopper here in the States.

What? You haven't heard of the Windows 7 Whopper?

Okay, so what I want to know is, if we Americans are all fat and lazy, why the hell can't I get a Win 7 Whopper here in the U.S. of A?

Taking a cue from Eating the Road, I decided "Screw the Japs- I'm gonna make my own!"

Off I went to Burger King, and at precisely 6:36 PM, I placed my order for four $1 double cheeseburgers, per the above-cited instructions. And some fries. Can't skip those.

Once home I decided to go truly international and drink an RC Cola from our cousins in Canada. Two plates (made in China?) as a prep pad, camera in hand, I set off to enjoy food history.

As you might have guessed, I loves cheeseburgers. They are the perfect food, composed of foods from the Meat Group, Dairy Group and Plant Group (bread). I don't go tainting that lovely meat with any frickin' salad, either. Just burger patties, cheese and bread. (If I'm at Five Guys, I go for some Bacon as well).

In 9 minutes- about the time it seems to take most PCs to boot up- I had leisurely eaten my Pirated Win7. And the fries. I have to say, I think I like Linux better.

The Win7 wasn't particularly hard to eat. I was a little worried about the size- the dentist having told me recently I might have TMJ (probably from all the beef jerky I gnaw on regularly). But I was able to take a shark-sized bite. It just wasn't all that great. For one, Burger King tends to flash-fry the outside of their burgers, while the inside is mushy. Perhaps from freezer burn. And their stupid flame broiling also tends to burn away a lot of the liquid flavor (or "grease" as some people call it), leaving a sorry, beefy sponge-like structure. What's more, tampering with the bread-to-beef ratio does not produce good results. Much like a pizza, with balanced amounts of dough, sauce and cheese, a burger must remain balanced in the proportions of meat, cheese and bread.

But was I ate a good copy of the Japanese Windows 7 Whopper?

Well, according to Burger King's website, a flame broiled whopper contains 1/4 pound of meat (one patty), for 670 calories of beefy goodness.The Double Cheesburger is 1/4 pound of meat (two patties) for 510 calories of double beefy goodness.

Hmmm.... so let's see, a Windows 7 Whopper would be 1 and 3/4 pounds of meat, totalling, I'm guessing here, 4500 calories (all the bread isn't eaten).

My Pirated Win7 Burger? Only 7/8 pound of meat, and maybe 1500 calories.

I feel cheated.

And this probably also explains why I didn't think it was such a big deal to eat this thing.

End result: The Japs win. Their delicious Windows 7 is almost twice the burger my Pirated Win7 was. Maybe I can eat two Win7s next time? Then again, I spent $4 on my pirated Win7, whereas in Japan, the Windows 7 Whopper runs $8.

Why can't Google make an Android burger?

TOYS R US: Teasing the Children

Dear Toys R Us,

 

You suck.

 

I have long hated your high prices. Why do toys cost more at your TOY store, than they do at Target or Walmart, stores that don't specialize in toys?

 

But now I hate you even more, because you hurt my daughter.

 

When I was a kid, something I wanted more than anything else was a Speed Racer Mach 5 hotwheel. Unfortunately, they didn't make it. Despite dreaming of one all the time, I never got to play with one until years later, when Johnny Lightning came out with one.

 

So it was with great pleasure that I watched my 4 year old become enamored with Speed and the gang after the recent live action movie and collector's edition of the classic cartoon. I have watched her play with my Mach 5 and Shooting Star for several weeks now. Watched her name those cars Speed and Racer X, and some of my other collectible hotwheels Chim Chim, Spridle etc.

 

On October 24, 2009, I took my 4 year old daughter to your store to pick out a Halloween costume. While there, we looked around the store, and she was very excited to see Speed Racer toys. The toys were being re-stocked/rearranged by a TRU employee, and after he finished, we located a Racer X car with action figure. My daughter was very excited to buy this car, as we already have the Mach 5 in a similar scale (1:24th?) from the same movie.

When we went to check out, the item rang up as "unsellable". The TRU employee at the register guessed that it was a recalled toy (possibly lead painted). My daughter did not cry only because I told her we would go to a different store.

Unfortunately, we were unable to find ANY other Speed Racer toys at the other stores in the area we went to. My daughter was quite upset, and talked about "her" Speed Racer car all weekend.

As a parent, I can assure you this kind of crap guarantees me never wanting to shop your store again. You cannot put toys out that are not for sale, and not expect children to be upset. Especially when a parent agrees to buy the toy and lets the child carry it up front or pay for the toy themselves. It's like waving food at zoo animals and not giving them any.

Your store owes my daughter an apology- unfortunately, this will not ease her anguish, nor will she understand. She doesn't understand lead-based paint or toy recalls. All she understands is that she wants a Racer X car with a little person to put in it, that she had it in her hand, and the store wouldn't sell it to her.

XBOX Game Review: Need For Speed SHIFT

Perhaps this review isn't the timeliest out there, but I just got my copy of this game yesterday- I won it in EA's M3 Missions Twitter contest. A nice suprise to come home to after a shitty day at work. I had me some road rage all pent up and this was a perfect way to unleash it.

 

Now maybe it's from watching too much Speed Racer as a kid (I grew up in the 70s), but for me, racing and wrecking go hand in hand. And Shift does not disapoint in this area. In fact, you are rewarded for "aggressive" driving, and score points for smashing, spinning and otherwise muscling the other cars out of your way. Or, if if you go for the kindler, gentler, Speed Racer approach, you also get points for precision driving...

 

Let me back up a sec (heh, heh). The game has AMAZING graphics. They accomplish this by not letting you free roam. That's right, this is a track-to-track game, like most of the other Need For Speed series. NFS: Most Wanted is going to stay my favorite in the series, precisely because it does let you roam a whole city: street racing, eluding the police, or in my twisted case, ramming hapless motorists on their daily commutes- when I'm not driving through gas pumps or buildings, that is.

 

The cars, and enviroment in SHIFT are near-photo realistic. And yes, the cars take damage, but not very realistically. Yes, you can peel off your fenders, and apparently warp your frame, and yes, your car will pull one way or the other after major collisions, but really, I'm unimpressed. I want to see glass exploding out of the windows on impact. I want to see liquids spray out from the cars, like blood in a FPS. Dammit, I want to see a stray wheel rolling down the course. Flat Out: Ultimate Carnage has all that, but with crappy graphics and arcade car handling.

 

I will say there is one impact-feature of SHIFT that's fairly cool; on really, really hard collisions, your vision blurs and you hear your heartbeat and it takes a few seconds to recover (your vision, not the car). This is like so many FPS shooters where you take damage and have to pause to "heal". I take it this is to reinforce that they want you to drive these cars First Person, in the cockpit, not 3rd person, R/C style like I do.

 

The game starts with a practice race- you get one test lap in a souped up BMW, and the game judges your skill based on your performance. You can choose to override the skill level the game selects for you, or "lock in" your settings. Then it's on to a real race in your loaner car. How well you finish determines the amount of cash prize you get to buy your first car and any mods to it. And thankfully you don't get docked for repairs on the loaner. I messed that sucker up.

 

The goal of SHIFT is to race your way through the brackets, and four "tiers" (classes) of races, until you enter the big race at the end- a storyline that is right out of the Speed Racer movie.

 

An interesting thing I should note is that you can buy any car in the game with MS Points- rather than unlock and earn cars later. However, to not let people (like myself) get too carried away, you have to earn money for car improvements. So no buying a Bugatti $1.2 million car and smashing your opponents in the dust. Nope, they can spend the MS Points and buy the same car. Or soup it up better than your stock, cheater car. This is a great feature for casual gamers like me that don't have the time to unlock all the cars the first week after the game is released.

 

With this feature then, it is advisable that when you earn your starter money, the smart move is to buy your chosen Tier 1 car, then use all those funds to jack it up. It made quite a difference for me.

 

Now, as I mentioned earlier, when you race, you get points for driving precisely, or aggressively. These points count toward your Driver Level. Driver Levels unlock car enhancements and tracks. In one hour of Racer X car smashing last night (4 races) I easily made it to Level 3.

 

Oh, and your car is repaired between races, free of charge.

 

Car customizing is a little on the ignorant side in this game. You can paint the car any color you like, but you get very limited vinyl application choices. Making my Honda the Shooting Star was a challenge until I reached Level 3 and unlocked Primitive Vinyl shapes (squares, circles and so far). By using the stretch, move, resize tools, i was able to do a passable job on the 'Star. Alas, I haven't earned number decals yet, so I have big yellow Xs on the doors right now instead of Rex Racer's 9.

 

I was hoping this game would allow custom painting- where instead of filling body panels with a chosen color, I could use airbrushing tools and paint it truly however I wanted. So much for my dream of a camoflage car to park across the track sideways for spectacular collisions.

 

As for the collisions, I got to enjoy some pretty cool ones. Sideswipes lifted several opponents up on two wheels, but I was never quite able to flip anyone like the start up animation sequences show. PITT moves didn't work so well either. However one impact, I slammed on the brakes and watched the other car spin out of control down the track ahead of me. Gunning it, I was able to t-bone him right off the track as the AI driver recovered. Very satsifying.

 

Hopefully, the Multiplayer mode will be just as satisfying, and people won't bitch about me ramming them. It is a major component of the game to drive aggressively.

 

All in all, I'd say this is a pretty good game. I wish it had the Pursuit modes of some prior NFS games. Or pedestrians I could send flying. And while this is clearly a game for Racers, not Wreckers, I'm going to enjoy it quite a bit. I mean, geez, it was free.

 

Breaking News: CNN is stupid

Okay, so this amateur, UFO-shaped balloon was flying over Colorado, possibly with a 6 year old boy inside. I flip on CNN and their "expert" is talking about how he has been doing calculations, using "high school physics" and he reckons it would take 3700 grams of helium to lift a 50 pound boy.

 

Dude, 3700 grams is equal to just over 8 pounds.

 

Go back to High School.

 

Where the hell do they get these "experts"?

 

I used an app on my android phone to figure that out. Took me about 10 seconds.

 

 

 

IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE

The bumper sticker was on the window of some big truck, and declared "Instead of being born again, why not grow up?"

Ordinarily, I'd have expected a pick up to have something pro-religious or pro-country music, or something. Not this heathen, Darwinistic bullshit.

I'm guessing the driver of the truck is some unhappy, lonely soul who is irritated by how Christians seem to always be in a better mood than him. Instead of being grateful that he was driving a new truck, this idiot instead wants to use it as a billboard to knock religion. Do I drive around with "You! Out of the Gene Pool" on the back of my beater?

The next thought one might have is why doesn't truck man believe? Who says he doesn't? Just because he condemns religion, doesn't mean he doesn't believe God exists. I find a lot of liberal heathen leftards to be against Christianity because they simply don't want to follow God's rules.

But I digress.

Instead of being angry, and knocking other people's beliefs, truck man should be thankful for what he has. We all should be.

A couple of hundred years ago, the Pilgrims were pretty damned thankful to be getting something to eat. They prayed thanks to God at every meal. They thanked the local native Americans for food when they had none.

Look at us now. How many of you ever say grace at the dinner table. People are starving around the world and you take the food on your table totally fr granted. If your cabinets are bare, you can pick up the phone and order out for Pizza, Chinese or who knows what other food. But do you realize that right now, on our little world, there are countless people who don't' know where their next meal is coming from? Or who haven't had a decent meal in days?

Look around you- you can see your surroundings thanks to electricity. How many people in the world have that in their homes? Or running water? Or indoor toilets?

So your girlfriend broke up with you. So you have bills to pay. So you have a crappy job. Big f-ing deal. You've got food in your belly, electric lights over your head, and probably somewhere to sleep tonight. That's pretty good.

Thanksgiving is all about being thankful. Sure, sure, I stuff my cakehole with huge amounts of mashed potatoes and turkey, but I am thankful for every delicious morsel. I don't grab up that plate of seconds because I think it's owed to me. Life doesn't owe me anything. God doesn't owe me anything.

The next time you're feeling down in the dumps, instead of lashing out at others, look up and say a word of thanks. Because it could always be worse.

TROGLODAD's FATHERHOOD SURVIVAL TIPS: Surviving Cold Winter Nights with a Family Bed?

If you live in the midwest, they say you're in for one heck of a winter. Last year, it was an ice storm that knocked out power and sent many a house into freezing temperatures.  This year they're calling for bitterly cold temps, and a fair amount of snow.

 

So how do you keep you and family warm this winter?

 

Experts are often divided on the Family bed concept. Some think it makes it harder for toddlers to separate from their parents later. Others see no problem with it.

 

As I watched "3:10 to Yuma" yesterday, I was struck by how until modern times, people did in fact often utilize family beds to stay warm. Think how many movies you see set in pre-1900s times that don't have multiple people bundled up. Heck, even the Whos down in whoville tend to bunch up at night. Remember the grinch stealing that candycane from five or six Who children at once?

 

We have a family bed- at least, our toddler sleeps with us. Primarily because we gave up fighting her when she would come in during the night wanting to come to bed with us. Her older sister was the same, sleeping with us until she was 5, and got a "big girl bed".

 

I'll admit, in the winter, that little Toddler pressed up against my back can be warm. And now that she's out of diapers, there's no more waking up in a warm puddle of pee, courtesy an over-loaded diaper. But there are some dangers to family beds.

 

For one, there's the groin kicks.

 

If you're like me, at some point, you might roll over in the night. And that's when a little one happens to be dreaming about soccer team tryouts. Ouch. Way worse then being awakened by a charlie horse.

 

There's also the danger of tumbling. Tumbling out of bed that is. Always put the toddler BETWEEN you and your spouse, so you canact like natural bedrails.

 

Suffocation? That's a big fear of mine, that the little one will get a blanket pulled up over her head by one of use trying to bundle up.

 

Blanket kick-off is a big problem with my youngest. Like a dog dreaming of running, she inevitably kicks off the blankets during the night and I wake up shivering. That definitely wouldn't be good in a little ice age winter disaster.

 

And what about space? We have a king size bed. My wife takes up at least half the bed- limbs splayed out so she looks like she's been hit by a car or something. The toddler mimics this, and I end up with a sliver of bed barely wide enough to lay on. And on at least some occasions, I have awoken with my head on the nightstand- which is conveniently the same height as the mattress top. Or I'd have been on the floor.

 

So, how to use the family bed during a winter disaster to keep the family safe and your parts intact?

 

First off, slide the bed into a corner- but not on an exterior wall of the house. This corner will give you two walls to keep anyone from rolling out of the soon-to-be-overloaded bed. An exterior wall can get pretty cold, hence picking interior walls.

 

Next, put everyone in warm pajamas and socks. Cause with 3 or more folks in the bed, there's a good chance someone is going to have a limb uncovered in the night.

 

Staggered recline. That is, sleep head to foot if need be- make the most out of the bed space. In the case of little kids, you might even put one kid across the bottom of the bed, where the others' feet don't reach.

 

Staggered blankets. Avoid the compulsion to layer blankets on top of one another. Instead, have them overlapping, like shingles with two different blankets hanging off the sides. This also ensures maximum coverage for those on the edges of the bed.

 

Put weak bladders near the exits. If you have to pee every hour, or have a kid that sleep walks, put them near the edge, so they can get out of bed without walking on anyone else.

 

Need more than one bed, put them all in the same room. Sure you've got a kingsize bed, but what if you have 4 kids? You can't all squeeze into that big bed. Bring in one of the kids' mattresses and put it on the floor near, but not immediately adjacent to the main bed. Have one parent sleep on the floor mattress, one in the bigger bed. People put off body heat, so why not have it all in one small room, pioneer/eskimo style?

 

And finally, winterize the bedroom. You've got all that heat in there, no sense letting it get out. Who needs triple-paned, gas-filled windows, when you can buy a roll of masking tape and a some plastic painter's drop cloth? Cut out some plastic and tape it up over the window. Sure it might not be very see through, but remember that early american pioneers often used oiled wax paper as windows. Plastic will keep heat in and drafts out. Just remember to make sure you have some ventilation to the rest of the house so you and your fellow bed bugs don't run out of oxygen in the night.

 

 

Month of halloween movies continues- tonight, Creature from the Black Lagoon!

Little debbie's snack cakes, good for the soul and your body. The Red Cross gives them out when you donate blood. They must b good for you!

And the random thoughts begin

Counting down to Zday (saturday)... when I get to go see Zombieland! Saying it'll be a blast is a no-brainer...

I finally won something...

I'd like to thank those swell fellers at EA Games for the two prizes surely winging my way through the US Postal system about now:

 

A Need For Speed: Shift Swag bag and a copy of the game (preferably on the Xbox 360)

 

I enter a LOT of contests these days. Heck, I've entered a lot of contests my whole life. Even when I hand wrote 670+ 3X5 file cards trying to win a pickup truck, I didn't win. But this contest I won. Twice.

 

It was all part of their M3 Missions contest, to promote the release of the new game. Each day, you had to do some Mission on Twitter. Luckily, despite me rarely using it, I had a Twitter account and was able to enter two contests: Day 4 and Day 5.

 

Imagine my surprise when I won on both days! Well, won is a little bit of a stretch- I came in second place with 32 other people and got the cool, aforementioned prizes.

 

Ironically, I had already planned to buy NFS: Shift, as I love driving games. They let me unleash all that pent up road rage I get during the week thanks to my fellow drivers. I sure can't smash into the cars I see on the road, but on the console.... let's just say finishing a race is not my main goal. Yep, nothing beats driving through the bus station (NFS Most Wanted) or the Mall (Flat Out: Ultimate Carnage) after a particularly bad commute during the day.

 

Woo-hoo! That's $65 I just saved! Thank you EA!

 

Man, can you imagine how excited I'd be if I had won the BMW M3 they were giving away...?

Final test of the dual-post text message. Finally! A way to use up all those texts i waste on my plan each month!

Double texting to twitter and the (seldom used) blog. Technology rulz!

Awesome. Now I can post myself from the convenience of my phone technology rulz!

Hey, emailing worked great! Now what about this texting crap that all the kids r doing these days?

Phoning it in...

Man, I haven't had much time for blogging this year. So, I'm going to be particularly lazy and set up my phone to email in my rambling thoughts. Or maybe text in some cavemanly e-grunts when the mood strikes me. Like Twitter, without the inherent gayness....

HOW MICROSOFT RUINED MY FATHER'S DAY WEEKEND

I’m not a lucky guy. It’s a fact I have come to grudgingly accept. I like to console myself by thinking that statistically speaking, there have to be people like me, with a constant run of minor, annoying bad luck, just like there have to be people with constant good luck.

Take for example, my Xbox 360. No, really. Take it. I can’t use it anymore. It doesn’t work.
That has me quite mad.

I got my Xbox in March 2007. In 2006, I had lucked into a gig writing freelance articles for a local newspaper. Opinion pieces- like I do here. The best part was I was getting paid for these articles. And, being the good dad that I am, I thought that this extra money would be great to spend on my kids.

Seven articles later, the paper folded. Now for me, this wasn’t that big a deal. I had a regular day job. It could have been worse- I could have been once of those folks that lost their primary means of income. But my luck doesn’t work like that.

Anyways, I had $250 burning a hole in my pocket. And my oldest wanted an Xbox 360- having been sold by all Microsoft’s effective advertising. So, I decided what the heck, and spent my writing money, plus a little of my regular check and got us an Xbox.

It was great fun.

In fact, not only did my daughter enjoy playing her games, I soon became hooked myself. No more sitting at my PC, gaming in an uncomfortable posture, hunched over a desk. Nope, now I was able to recline in luxurious comfort on the couch. Better still, I discovered that with an Xbox I was able to virtually hang out with my friends, without having to leave home. XboxLive, Microsoft’s online gaming service, allows users miles apart to connect via headset and play games together.

In no time, several of my friends and I had formed a little group of gaming dads. We could stay up late, talking trash and enjoying games, but still be home to help change diapers, give baths or any of the other many duties required of dads.

Moreover, I found that gaming was a great stress relief from work. Have a bad day? Crank up the Xbox and play a nice First Person Shooter game. What could be more therapeutic than shooting digital terrorists, or rampaging e-zombies?

However, in the midst of all this electronic fun, I learned that Xbox has a little problem. The Red Ring of Death. This is the gamers’ term for a condition caused by a manufacturing defect rampant in about 1/3 of all Xboxes. A defect that causes your Xbox to overheat and not work anymore.

At first, I was fully expecting to get the RRoD. My luck is always getting me defective electronics when I purchase them. I am repeatedly having to take things back and get them replaced. Very annoying.

However, Microsoft, seeing their market drying up, offered an impressive 3 year extended warranty, free, for the RRoD. Xbox overheats (for the RRoD) just send it in a get it replaced, free of charge. They even mailed you a box and covered the shipping price. Awesome.

For several of my friends, who had purchases the first Xbox 360s out, this worked out really well. Their Xboxes died and they got newer, improved Xboxes. See, Microsoft is always improving the Xbox; adding more memory, putting in cooler-running chips, and even adding an HDMI output.

Once I learned that my pals were getting better Xboxes than they started with, I knew I would never get the RRoD.

And I was right. My Xbox has chugged along, used maybe 20 hours a week, for two and a half years. It’s become my primary hobby. My wife and kids get me games and even extra accessories- like a wireless controller- when shopping for gifts. And this was to be my third Father’s Day weekend, where all I wanted to do was kick back on the couch and enjoy some air conditioned video gaming. I even got a new game, solely for this weekend.

Then my Xbox died last night.

No, it wasn’t the RRoD. That would be too easy. Nope, the graphics chip(s) have died. I get sound, and a super-distorted picture. Something that isn’t covered by the extended warranty.
If I currently had an extra $99, I suppose I could send this sucker off and have it "repaired"; which really means I’d get a refurbished console that someone else sent in with a RRoD. Meaning my "new" console would crap out within a few months and I’d have to send it back. This vicious cycle of exchanging Xboxes can go on for months. One of my friends had to send his back four times before he got a winner.

Yeah, I could send my Xbox off, and wait 4 to 6 weeks for a refurbished return. But what about this weekend? What about my new game- my self-picked Father’s Day present?

Nope, no gaming for me. I get to look at all my games, neatly shelved with my DVDs, and my controllers and extra accessories. I get to listen to my kids pout that the Xbox is down. My friend’s kid suggested that I just go out and buy a new one. If only the world worked like that. At 12, he just doesn’t grasp budgets. We live by a budget. And we’ve been saving our money for pool for the kids for this summer- a small one yes, but big enough that you have to save for it.
I suppose I could be selfish, and tell the kids they aren’t getting their pool. But that wouldn’t be me.

And really, why should I even be in this situation? You’d think that a device meant to be played for hours on end, that Microsoft claims has a "10 year life expectancy" would last longer than 2 ½ years.

So Microsoft tricked me. My Xbox worked so well for so long, and I recommended it to all my friends. Then mine crapped out due to shoddy manufacturing. I guess in the end, this has taught me a valuable lesson- never recommend ANY Microsoft product.

SQUIRE BOONE CAVERNS: A review.

When it comes to caves, I think I’m going to choose my basement mancave over Squire Boone’s beloved Corydon caves.

In case you don’t know the history, Squire Boone and his more-famous brother, Daniel Boone, discovered the caves in Southern Indiana (Maukport, near Corydon, to be exact) in the 1800s. They built a mill nearby. On one occasion, Indians, paid by the British to hassle folks on the frontier, were chasing Squire Boone and he hid from them in the caves, saving his life. Squire Boone so loved his caves that he wanted to be buried there.

I know all this ‘cause I chaperoned a field trip to the caves this week with my daughter’s school.
Call me soft- I’m definitely no frontiersman- but I don’t much care for Squire Boone’s caverns. Oh sure, they’re caverns, so they automatically get points in their favor, but I much prefer my own mancave.

First off, Squire Boone caverns are on a hill. Or maybe that’s in a hill? The point is that when you go, you’re going to be doing a lot of vertical hiking. From the slanted parking lot up to the gift shop, or down to the soap-making house, or candle-making house, or down to the Mill. See, there isn’t just a cavern to see, like in my youth. Nope, it’s a whole tribute to pioneer living. And that would be great- if it were on level ground. But I’m 41 years old and a fairly large guy. While I didn’t crack my head repeatedly on the high ceilings of the cavern like at Marengo Caves, I did find the up and downhill, back and forth hiking hard on my knees. Then we went underground.
Here’s an important safety advisory for anyone thinking of Squire Boone Caverns that has bad knees or is afraid of heights: Don’t Go.

When we went, the walk-in entrance was blocked off- this meant we got to do the 73 step-spiral staircase-from-hell to go down into the caverns, walk up and down many more stairs as we followed the guide, then turned around and climbed back out. I know, people laugh and say someone who’s 6 foot 4 inches tall shouldn’t be acrophobic, but I am. Especially when the metal stairs I am climbing flex under my wrassler-class weight.

Let’s compare my own mancave. It’s on level ground. One flight of stairs, that are strong enough to drive a car down, and carpeted. Maximum depth- one floor, not the 9 floors down that Squire Boone reaches at it’s deepest. My stairs are straight, too. No spiraling, no twisting, no turns. And dry, totally not slippery.

My mancave is drier- although I have to admit I like the cool dampness of caverns, it probably wouldn’t be good for my health in the long run. And while most caverns have electricity for lighting, well, there’s no TV. Point to my mancave and it's satellite goodness.

Solitude? 90 feet underground guarantees you probably wouldn’t hear a plane crash into the gift shop above, but I get decent sound-proofing from my mancave. No doors closing on cars, no cars-driving-by, no birds, no yelling kids outside. Basically then, anything more than one level underground is just unneccessary.

Did I get good pictures at Squire Boone Caverns? Yeah- more impressive than my GI Joe and movie memorabilia collection for sure. But given the strain on my knees to get there, I’ll contentedly stare at my bookshelves without any regrets.

Were the staff at Squire Boone helpful and nice? Absolutely. Great, friendly folks. If they were on level ground I’d go again. Several times.

All in all, I give Squire Boone 1 out of 5 stars. However, if you like climbing and dangerous heights, I’d boost the rating to 3 stars. All in all though, if you’re driving to Corydon to see a cave, I regretfully must recommend you go check out Marengo Caves. Even my 3 year old could handle that tour. Just watch your head.

YOU DARN KIDS GET OFF MY LAPTOP!

Why is it that when you hit a certain age, it annoys you that kids are playing in your front yard- especially other people's kids? Stranger's kids.

They aren't really hurting anything. Hell, stomping that grass might slow it's growth, ultimately saving me from having to break out the riding lawnmower and all the intensive labor that would follow. Like steering. And working the pedal.

Maybe it's the noise? It bugs me when I hear car doors slamming outside, or cars driving by. Which is weird, because when I was stationed overseas, planes were always taking off, all day long, and I completely tuned it out.

Is it like super-powers? Does age grant some kind of cosmic awareness that replaces the obliviousness of youth? Coupled with hyper-irritability?

I know something that irritates me. Twitter.

Here I am, only 41 years old, and Twitter really bugs me. Not because I'm a technophobe. Or a grownup. I'm neither. I play Xbox, I carry an Android Developer Phone and have been using computers since the Timex Sinclair (that's pre-Commodore 64 for you wannabe geeks). I email regularly. Obsessive-compulsively, in fact. As soon as I get an email, it's like someone knocking on my door and I have to answer. Same with my phone. Damn texting.

But I don't get Twitter. Heck, I don't get Facebook or Myspace either. What's wrong with reliable bulletin boards- BBS is what we used to call them in the heady pre-Al Gore-invented-the-internet-days.... Heck, even those Yahoo Newsgroups are okay.

Whoops, it's been five minutes since my last Twitter, hang on a sec...

Yeah, I'm Twittering. I feel like Billie Madison, back in kindergarten or something. I know, lots of old people Twitter. Brent Spiner for example. I sort of get why kids like to hear what Ashton Kutcher is eating or flushing at any given moment, but Brent Spiner? Data? Do kids these days even know what Star Trek: The Next Generation is?

Call us crazy at MTW, but we decided that maybe some Twittering would be good for us. Get the old creative juices rejuvenated with some hip, young Twittering. Or e-rambling, as I like to think of it.

"Burp. I burped."

"Tasted that chicken from lunch."

"Lunch was two hours ago. When will I have to potty?"

"Uh-oh, teacher sees me..."

You get the idea- Twittering is just random drivel. Thoughts people too lazy to say "please" and "thank you" punch into mobile devices with obsessive zeal. Observations and reflections that should have been left to their inner voice. Assuming they have one. Those kids are getting louder day by day, you know.

The worst thing about Twitter though, is the mobile-phone connection. Not only does it allow you to ramble out loud on the internet, via your cellphone, like deranged, demented elderly people in nursing homes, it also allows you to hear other people rambling. Better have an unlimited texting plan though- some people can't shut up. They feel compelled to comment every five seconds. Heck, since I started this article I've Twittered over a dozen times.

It kind of reminds me of Phillip K. Dick. He wrote this great book (those pressed, wood fiber sheets with letters, that don't require batteries or cellular service to read), entitled "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" I wonder if electronic sheep dream of androids. Android phones. All these folks Twittering are like sheep. E-sheep, standing around in the virtual world of the web, bah-ing occasionally to no end. And of course, to Twitter, you need a phone. And Android is the freely-distributable OS for cellular phones put out for Google.

There. See how easy that was- that was a Twitter-like line of thought. In Twitter speak, I'd have said it like this:

"Bladerunner. Good movie."

"Bad Androids."

"Bob has an Android G1."

"I like iphones."

I know, a lot of info left out of the Twitter stream of consciousness. But kids these days are too lazy. I mean, they have abandoned blogging and the deep, soulful reflections full of prose and wit and replaced it with... twit.

Really though, I should embrace Twittering, because it is close to caveman speak. Simple exclamations, short on durations, conveying meaning.

"Food."

"Hungry."

"Eat?"

It's like e-grunting. Beat that, Twitter!


NOTE: Come see me at www.twitter.com/troglodad and read for yourself how uncool and old I really sound.

THE DAY I BROKE UP WITH WENDY

For many years, the love of my life was Wendy, with her cute little pigtails and the smell wafting from her that I could only describe as heavenly. But sadly, the time recently came for us to part ways. Wendy has been letting herself go these past few years. She’s not that clean anymore. She’s greasy. She is just, well, run-down looking. Oh sure, she still has great buns, but that’s not enough.With great regret, I’ve had to leave Wendy behind, for Five Guys.

I’m talking about cheeseburgers, of course.

What could be better than the cheeseburger? It has the meat group, bread group, and dairy group all in one nice package. For those of you that are health conscious, you can always slap on a salad- but I think that taints the heady flavor of roasted cow flesh (or buffalo or any other grazing animal). Throw in a side of fries for your daily vegetable helping, and you’re set.

Wendy’s restaurant was my most beloved restaurant for many years. Those delicious triple cheeseburgers, dripping with extra cheese, a side of fries and a chocolate Frosty was truly my favorite meal. I could eat it everyday- although I would probably drop dead in only a few weeks. Anything that tastes that good can’t be good for you.

But ever since the food genius Dave Thomas passed away, Wendy’s has begun deteriorating. Where the burgers were once cooked to greasy, sizzling perfection in his lifetime, there have been times since his passing when my burger tasted a little... rare. Gone is the delicious saltiness. And where once I could swear I was tasting the savory goodness of what surely must have been steroids injected into the cows prior to slaughter, lately all I taste is something that must be freezer burn.
Wendy’s also began to get complicated. When I order a "Frosty" I don’t want to be asked what flavor I want. I want a damned Frosty. Do I get asked what flavor Coke I want? (They still make Cherry and Vanilla Coke, you know). And what’s with all the fancy schmancy sandwiches added to the menu? There should be three, and exactly three, choices of sandwich: Single, Double and Triple.

Despite the degradation of my most beloved place away from home, my spirits have been recently uplifted. There’s a new Burger Sheriff in town- actually, they’re more of a posse. And I pledge my loyalty for as long as my wallet, and heart, can take their savory goodness.

Five Guys (Burger and Fries) has come to Southern Indiana.

At first glance, I was a little worried to be eating at "Five Guys". They got their start in Washington D.C., where just about everything is screwed up. But I guess working to please the most crooked, twisted, screwed up bunch of nincompoops on the planet is a good way to master the Burger.

When you walk into a Five Guys, you’ll notice right off it’s clean. Okay, maybe the two I have begun frequenting are, because they’re new. Time will tell. Next up, you’ll see stacks of fresh, boxed potatoes. That’s because they claim to use only fresh potatoes, fried in peanut oil. They also claim their hamburger never hits the freezer. It’s fresh and refrigerated, never frozen.

On the way to the counter, you’ll notice boxes of unshelled peanuts out for your consumption. Right there they get points from me. I get to eat while I wait to eat? Man, that’s just like at home, where I’m gnawing on chips or cheese or something while I man my trusty Weber grill.

By the time you hit the counter, you’ve noticed two other things. The price and the simplicity of the menu. Five Guys make burgers, kosher hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwhiches. No chicken. No salads. And they charge a lot for this wonderful food. More even than Wendy’s. But the price is worth it.

When you get your cheeseburger- dressed however you choose- it’s been cooked well done, and is wrapped in plain foil. Not a paper wrapper or a plastic box. Nope, good old aluminum foil, like you’d have on a picnic. Flavor nor heat will be escaping this burger before you shovel it into your mouth. And the fries? Mmmm. Delicious steak fries, served in a styrofoam cup. And then they throw some extra fries in the bag, like tinsel sprinkled on a Christmas tree after the decorations are hung.

I’ll also note that if you order a bacon cheeseburger, the bacon is nice and crispy- not some limp, heated-with-a-hair-dryer strip of rubbery bacon. It crunches and is packed with salty flavor.

I’ll admit that Five Guys is lacking milkshakes on their menu. A juicy bacon cheeseburger with fries is great. But throw in a milkshake, and it’s a feast. At least Five Guys offers free refills to make up for this chilled dairy product bigotry.

By the time you leave a Five Guys, your wallet will be thinner, as though you’ve paid for twice the food you got. But that is fair, since the quality is more than twice as good as anywhere else.

I guess in the future, I’ll still drive by Wendy’s, to see how she’s doing. She does still have Frosty’s and a drive thru. She’ll always hold a special place in my heart, but Five Guys has earned a place in my stomach.

Wendy, if you ever get yourself straightened out, call me. I'll be at Five Guys.