WHEN GOOD GADGETS GO BAD... RETURN THEM!

I have a knack for buying those rare factory defects. You know the ones- those items that slip through quality control at the factory and go to the store then your home, then fail spectacularly. Like my first Canon camera. It had a rare lens motor defect that caused the auto-telescoping lens to jam in place. Or the microwave I bought one New Year's Eve. Spent the whole day installing it, then when we fired it up, amazing sparks started flaying around inside.

Now, some folks may have the urge to try and fix things themselves. Or download firmware updates. Or anything rather than go to the time-consuming task of returning an item to get a new one. I empathize. But the best advice anyone can give is that you fully check out your new gadget BEFORE you leave the parking lot.

Take my latest smartphone. I had been using an Android Developer Phone since early 2009. Basically the same thing as the G1, on T Mobile's crappy network. I know that T Mobile likes to condemn AT&T with all those ads with the scrawny girl in bright pink dresses, but where I live AT&T's network blows the doors off T Mobile. it's like comparing DSL to dialup. So anyways, after much research, I closeted the venerable G1 and picked up nice Samsung Captivate- AT&T's version of the Galaxy S.

Right off, the phone is remarkable. It has a very high resolution display. 16Gb of internal memory, a micro SD card slot. Video out, micro USB charge slot... it's a sleek, easy to use Android phone. Despite the fact that it was a little too sleek for my big butterfingers, I soon became enraptured with my new Captivate. I bought a special Otterbox Defender case for it. Extra charging cables. A belt holster.

Then I noticed the GPS wasn't working. Spectacularly not working.

I tried the online troubleshooting. I tried downloading a firmware update. I tried a special GPS repair app from Samsung. Nothing. My wristwatch would be better for GPS navigation- and it can't receive GPS at all.

Resigning myself to the fact that I was going to have to reload all my apps, redo all my contacts, passwords, etc. etc, I decided it was time for a return.

So I head over to the local AT&T store. I wander in, explain to the Hostess on duty out front that I'm there to return my defective phone and she summons Emo Vampire Boy to help me.

Call me crazy, but the Elvira-version of Justin Bieber just doesn't inspire confidence in me. I want a nerd like they have at Bestbuy when I have a technical problem. Someone with bad skin, mad scientist-hair and a pocket protector. But, I play the game and start explaining to Count Emo-youla what's wrong with the phone.

Emo Vampire Boy wouldn't let me finish explaining I can't lock on to ANY satellite. He compels the phone from me and wants to "show me a trick". He then turns on the "Use Wireless networks" options and triumphantly shows me that he can show the location. I explain to him that only approximates your position within 500 feet- I want GPS triangulation. Emo Vampire Boy bares his fangs and tells me that all AT&T phones use Wireless triangulation and can only get you within 500 feet.

Quickly debating whether I should stab him through the heart with a wooden steak or make him listen to happy music, I tell Emo Vampire Boy that I want to exchange the phone for one that works- I've only had the broken one for a few weeks. Knowing that even his emo-vampire strength isn't a match for me since he's barely a third my size, he sighs and tells me there'll be a $37 restocking fee. Unless I have my box.

I tell EVP I don't need a box. He can keep the box for the new phone. EVP tells me doggedly/battedly that no, I have to have my box.

I storm outside. Then I stop and go back in. Dammit, I'm the customer and it's going to be my way. No emotionally-confused, black nail polish-wearing, blood sucking fairy is going to push me around. I demand a manager.

"Tim" comes over to help. I again explain the GPS situation. He wants to know if I use the AT&T Navigator. I tell him no- I don't want to be one of those idiots who turns into the side of a building. I use GPS with Google Maps to find out where I am, or where I'm going. I tell him my previous phone, a G1, was easily able to lock onto satellites. I tell him I've updated the phone to Froyo (Android 2.2) and loaded a GPS fix program from Samsung- but still no GPS signal. I tell him all my online research and troubleshooting points to it's a bad phone.

"Let's step outside", Tim suggests. Did he want to duel? Was he scared Emo Vampire Boy was going to bite him? No, he just wanted to see for himself (since GPS generally works better outside). And then he turned on the Use Wireless Networks and shows me the phone. I wonder if AT&T teaches a special wrist-flip, show-the-customer-their-own-phone move during employee training?

Again, I explain that no, the phone should be receiving a GPS signal. I turn on the GPS Test App and show him NO satellites are detected. He almost sneers and tells me, "Oh, that's just an app you're using."

Say what?! It's an OFFICIAL App. From the Android Marketplace. Does he think all the other functions of the phone aren't controlled by applications? Apparently Mentally-Tiny Tim doesn't understand how computers or phones work. I tell him I want a new phone. Being Management, he doesn't really care and takes the easy way out. He agrees I can have a new phone. Then Tiny Tim also parrots the box thing. I demand to know why I can't just use the new box to return the defective phone. Tiny Tim explains there's a unique serial # on the side of the boxes to match the phones. Okay, that makes sense. EVP must have been just too exhausted to tell me that. So I tell Tiny Tim I'll go home- I live nearby- and get my box. But first, I want to make sure there are some other Captivates in stock. I explain I'm sick, and if I go all the way home and return to find they're out of stock, I'll be pissed. Tiny Tim goes to the back, then confirms there is some in stock and he's put my name on one.

I drive home, get the damn box and return.

Now, at this point I'd like to interject my opinion on returns. If I'm within the 30 days, no-questions asked period the sales rep told me when I first got the damn phone, why did I get the whole Inquisition route? I should be able to walk in and tell them anything, and end it with -so I want to swap for a new phone. Anything. "Every time I talk on this it shits in my ear." "It levitates and flies around the room at night... I think it's haunted." "I seem to be picking up alien transmissions- or maybe it's Al Franken on Air America." Whatever I say, I expect to be able to return the phone... since that was what I was promised.

Once I'm back to the Store of Many Questions, the Hostess greets me again and gets some blonde chick to help me. She initially appeared to be a hot blonde. A very hot blonde. As we walk over to her register next to a guy who looks like a Chubby Simon Pegg, I'm thinking- why couldn't I have talked to her instead of Emo Vampire Boy when I first came in. Hot Blonde begins to ring up the exchange and finally asks for my sim card to put in the new phone. When she reaches across the counter for it, that's when I notice the dirty nails. Like she'd clawed her way out of the ground or something. Really weird, considered she has clean skin and hair, sparkling teeth and was very neat and cleanly dressed- not even any lint on her AT&T black sweater. Perhaps she dug Emo Vampire Boy up and brought him to work earlier in the day? Or maybe she had been helping Chubby Simon Pegg fight zombies before her shift?

So I get the new phone turned on, and check it's satellite signal. None. Ruh-roh. Dirty Nails comes around the counter to see if she can help. I download the GPS Test app and tell her I want to check the phone before I leave. Chubby Simon Pegg perks up and wants to know what app I'm using. Instead of telling him he had red on his shirt, I told him the name of the app. Chubby Simon Pegg laments about the problems the Captivate has had in the past but how it's supposed to work, blah, blah, blahbbity blah. He eventually goes back to his console, mumbling to himself.

Eventually, I got the phone to work. Where with phone #1, I was able to see a grand total of 8 satellites in view when outside, but couldn't lock on to any of them, phone #2 immediately sees and locks on to 8 satellites. Now that's more like it! I thanked Dirty Nails, who didn't seem so hot anymore, went outside, got in my Mystery Machine and got the hell out of there.

Moral of the story... don't waste time trying to fix or download or talk to some English-is-my-second-language customer support rep when something you bought doesn't work. Just take it back. Even better, don't take it home in the first place until you KNOW it works. All it's features.

And save your box.

Got a Smartphone? You otter box it...

A crucial piece of gear for any dad is the smart phone. This versatile pocket computer may at first seem like an umbilical cord the wife can jerk you around with no matter where you are, but they are actually quite handy.

 

Can't remember all those doctor's numbers, addresses and appointments? Put them in the smartphone.

 

Worried about how you'll remember baby's first words, when they first walked, or your wedding anniversary? Put it in the smartphone.

 

On your way to the store and you can't find pen or paper to make a shopping list because the kids have stolen every scrap of paper and writing implement in pursuit of their future art career? Type the list into the smartphone.

 

Can't fit enough pics of the kids in your wallet? Put them in the smartphone- which also holds video, a trick your wallet will never match.

 

Or maybe you're stuck in a doctor's office lobby, waiting for that annual check up for the kids. They inevitably get bored with estrogenized parenting magazines and aren't into Oprah, Ellen or whatever other  daytime fare all the mommies are glued to. No problem, whip out the smartphone and stream some Dora from Youtube. Or maybe play a movie you had the foresight to shrink and drop onto the smartphone ahead of time.

 

And that's when the baby butterfingers strike.

 

Down goes your phone, smeared with tiny, juice bag fingerprints, tumbling in slow motion before landing precisely on the one corner that had some microscopic factory defect. The "unbreakable" gorilla glass face shatters on impact. Or maybe the back flies off in one direction, your battery in another. Now what are you going to do?

 

Oh, sure, you could have bought a Casio waterproof/shockproof phone. Their G-shock watches are damned near indestructible. But smartphones are so much better. The internet, an organizer, a movie and music player- all in one pocket-sized device.

 

The alternatve is to defend your phone from inevitable droppage. By wrapping it in the strong embrace of an Otterbox polycarbonate box, that is itself surrounded in thick synthetic rubber. No slippery surface anymore. And even if it does get dropped, those delicate corners and smooth, polished plastic surfaces are shielded from damage. Otterbox has been making these cases for years and they really know what they're doing.

 

At first, you may scoff at spending $50 for a top-of-the-line Otterbox for your smartphone. They aren't even waterproof! But then, you couldn't use that phone in the rain anyway, could you? But think of the peace of mind. Drop protection (not to be confused with G-Shock level protection). Isn't $50 worth that?

 

Still not convinced? Well, Otterbox also throws in a handy polycarbonate hard holster that clips to your belt. Yes, your wife may call you a nerd, but did you know that putting a phone in your pocket shortens battery life? Your own body heat diminishes the talk time of the phone. Wear it proudly on your bat belt however, and the phone is only subjected to the ambient air temperature, and not your sweaty, man-furnace fumes. Plus, being on your belt, you probably won't accidentally wash it, or test the scratch resistance of the screen protector with whatever man-gear you regularly carry in your pockets.

 

For the sake of your phone, your sanity and your wallet, drop some coin on an Otterbox. The alternative is too terrible to imagine.

 

(This is not a paid advertisement for or onbehalf of Otterbox. Other companies also make protective cases for smartphones and PDAs, I just like Otterbox the best) 

Daddy's Little Cheaters

Recently, I read an article about a study that was released confirming what most gaming dads already knew: it does girls good to play video games with their dads.

 

I've been playing video games with my two girls (5 & 11) for years now. It's good bonding time that I enjoy way more than tea parties, playing Barbies & GI Joes, or watching High School Musical for the 3 millionth time.

 

In my pre-console gaming days, I had my desktop connected via composite cable to the basement TV. I'd fire up a game and get comfortable while my then-4 year old would settle in on the recliner-couch with a bowl of popcorn and some juice bags. She'd giggle and laugh as I waged war on whatever virtual enemy I chose for the evening. Her favorite was watching me Force-push Stormtroopers to their doom in the classic Jedi Academy First Person Shooter.

 

When we graduated to the Xbox, I rearranged the old dadcave and we got to both enjoy the couch and a larger TV. My youngest soon joined the party. I even began to play games with the kids. Like the great LEGO series of games.

 

My latest innovation in family gaming though involves one of my favorites. Cheating.

 

Not cheating against real people in multiplayer. That would be wrong (and potentially get me banned from Xbox Live). No, I'm talking about online walkthroughs and tips and hints for single player campaigns. In the past, I'd have to pause the games, get on the laptop and try to figure out why the hell I couldn't complete a level. When I was a PC gamer I'd get frustrated and read about doing console commands and making myself invulnerable or giving myself unlimited ammo. The kids always enjoyed it and quite frankly, so did I.

 

Now though I have cheater co-pilots. In particular, we've been playing Fallout New Vegas, a first person role player that has you criss-crossing the post-apocalyptic Mojave wasteland looking for stuff and helping/killing AI players. My kids love the game, and were quit eager to break out the snacks and backseat-game along with me- pointing out giant, irradiated spiders; offering their opinion on whether I should shoot or negotiate; and face palming when I screwed up and died spectacularly.

 

But as all casual gamers do, I finally got to points in the game I just couldn't finish on my own. I needed help. I needed an online walkthrough and some maps of hidden locations. Unfortunately, my kids didn't have much patience with me pausing the game for ten minutes or more while I read what the hell was wrong. My eleven year old finally decided to take matters into her own hands.

 

"When you're ready, daddy," she told me one night, "let me know and I'll look it up." I looked over and there she was on the other end of the couch, the laptop set up on a TV snack stand, notepad and pencil ready.

 

I've learned that having a gaming co-pilot is quite helpful. Especially one with a detailed online map. Instead of wandering aimlessly in the radioactive wasteland, I can just demand "Where the hell is the Vault 21 entrance?!" In minutes- while I pass the time killing mutated geckos- she's located the coordinates, spun the laptop around and pointed the location out.

 

My five year old is in on the cheating fun also. While she lacks adequate search-engine skills, she's eager to see the maps as well, and parrot the criticisms my older child gives when I go in the wrong direction.

 

"No, you're going the wrong way!" older child says.

 

"You're going the wrong way, daddy!" younger child echoes two milliseconds later. You know, in case I didn't hear the first child.

 

So if you're a gamer dad who is constantly pestered by your children, or who have children that like to stand between you and the TV screen, don't lose your cool. Put their asses to work. Snack fetching and drink preparation is a great aid to serious gaming. And if they have the skills, set them up to co-pilot on the internet. It's an experience you'll all enjoy.

 

Just watch your language when die in the game....

Man Van, or Ham Van?

Wow, what timing. I was JUST lamenting the chickification of the minivan- that totally unfair stereotype that minivans are feminine. Chrysler wasn't listening- instead they are perpetuating the myth with a stupid-ass "Man Van".

 

It's a special Dodge Grand Caravan with "man" features. Like racing stripes. A lowered chassis. Over sized, chrome wheels. A black interior with red stitching. Performance suspension and a ginormous sound system.

 

Man Van? More like Ghetto-Man Van.

 

What the Hell? Why do car manufacturers think man=race car? On the contrary- all I see driving sports cars are little malnourished, pantywaist metrosexuals, who think squeeling tires = macho. It doesn't. I don't care how fast your car, how much nitrous or chrome you add to it. You little punks are still asking for an ass-whoopin'. One you will surely get because you spent too much time eating Doritos and Mountain Dew instead of bulking up on meat, cheese and potatos. As a result, you have the physique of a girl. Which explains all the hair care products and body perfume.

 

A Man's Van would have a trailer hitch. An extra 6" of ground clearance. AWD. Rally lights. A spare, full-sized tire on the rear hatch. Front and rear winches. Diamond plate floorboard for the driver. Brush Guards. A dual gas tank, for extended operation in the wild.

 

A Man Van wouldn't rely on faux race car looks. It'd back it's manliness with horsepower and unbridled ruggedness. "Dodge" wouldn't be the name of the manufacturer- it'd be a warning to anyone even thinking of stepping out in front of it. Mike Rowe would consider driving one to his next Dirty Job.

 

A Man Van would have full sized rear seats too. So you could haul your screaming kids to football practice, or your best buds to the super bowl. The Roof would have a protective coating so that when you actually used the upper roof rack you didn't have to worry about scratching paint.

 

Stow N Go seating? How about with carbon fiber backs so you could throw lumber, deer carcasses or your favorite tools in the back with no worry about knicks or scratches.

 

Finally, a Man Van would be multi fuel. Not Hybrid multifuel. No, Deuce-and-a-half, M35, Mil-spec multifuel. Where you could burn gas, diesel, cooking oil, jet fuel, or any flammable liquid that would fit in the tank. This wouldn't be to combat gasoline prices or save the ecosystem. It'd be to get you anywhere and back, gas stations or not.

 

Chrysler thinks racing stripes are manly. The only stripes they really know are the yellow ones on their backs. Because they're too chicken to make a real man's ride.

 

 

 

 

TOOLS OF FATHERHOOD: The Mallet

When I was growing up, the way to fix things was to strike them. TV not picking up a channel? Whack it on the side. Post in the yard crooked? Whack it. Dog keeps peeing on the carpet? Whack it. Hitting things is the American first line of repair. And when you're a dad, you're expected to fix a lot of things. Not because you want to DIY, but because everyone who isn't a dad will want to DDI- Dad'll Do It. That means you need tools. My personal favorite is the Leatherman WAVE Multi-tool. But don't overlook the whacking tools. They're very handy. And there is one whacking tool many a dad may have overlooked.

 The Mallet.

 Now, don't get me wrong- claw hammer's are great when you're doing some carpentry. Ballpeen hammers are great for gear heads. Sledgehammers are great for busting bricks or driving posts. But the reality for those of us that aren't in the trades is that we're going to be hitting things that are far less durable than a claw hammer. Things made of plastic or wood.

 That's where the Mallet, or more specifically, the rubber mallet comes in handy.

 Imagine you're a new dad and you're putting together the baby's pre-fabricated crib. You screw this and that, but at some point you're going to need to tap some wooden pegs in place. Use a trusty metal claw hammer if you must, but don't be surprised when you miss with one swing and put a huge gash in the finish. If you can't turn the crib so that gash is against the back wall, you're going to catch nine kinds of hell from the missus- who is out of her damned mind anyways with all those pregnancy hormones.

 Fast forward to little Johnny's first camping trip. You're driving tent stakes into the ground. You beat the hell out of them with a claw hammer- because claw hammers are the everyman of hammers. The tent stakes are going to look like Fido got ahold of them.

 When Little Johnny starts getting school pictures, the wife is going to start demanding that you put up frames. Sure, sure, you could use a claw hammer to drive nails into the drywall. But again, miss, and you've got a hell of a dent. Worse, when it's a billion degrees in the house, and you've ben holding that frame up so she can stand on the other side of the room to see if she likes it there, your arms are going to get tired. Sweat+fatigue=butterfingers. A claw hammer is going to hurt your feet way more than a nice rubber mallet.

 What about when you slip on the ice loading the van for that trip to the in-laws, and you put a small dent in the hood? With a rubber mallet, you can pop that sucker out and the wife will never know.

 Mallets are awesome.

 Look at the name: M-A-L-L-E-T. It's like a cross between MALE and WALLET. "Male" means man, and wallets are of course the more masculine, pocket-sized versions of purses. Every man needs to own a mallet.

 Some of you may want to point out that the way to prevent denting with a claw hammer is to put a piece of wood between the hammer and the object you're striking. Pashaw, I say! The right tool for the job is ALWAYS the better way to go. Claw hammers are for nails. Not building furniture, popping dents or camping!

 The next time you're out shopping for tools, grab a mallet. They're pretty cheap- I got mine at Target for $1. That's a lot of banging for a buck.

 

 

LET THERE BE LIGHT!

Whether you believe man climbed down out of the trees and traded poop slinging for insults, or accept Adam and Eve's eviction from Eden, one thing you have agree with is that early man relied on Fire. It's a wonderful tool. It provides us heat. It cooks our food. We can make tools with it. We can keep wild animals at bay. And it gives us a sense of security by driving away the darkness.

 

In our modern homes, fire has been replaced with electric light. It's something most of us- including our kids- take for granted. But what happens when the lights go out? Imagine being in your windowsless dadcave and the power goes out due to a storm or some drunk driver hitting a utility pole. The first thing you might think is "now I can't watch the rest of the game!". But your kids are going to have a more immediate concern. IT'S DARK!

 

When there's an emergency, you've got a lot of options on how to provide this simple luxury item your kids can't do without out. Modern light comes from four main sources: The Sun (through your windows), from Fire, from Electricity, or from chemical sources. How many of these have you thought about, or prepared with?

 

Power outages by day aren't so bad. You just leave the darkened dadcave and open the curtains or blinds through out the house. If it's cold, you grab a blanket. If it's hot you open a window. But when it's night time, or maybe during a thunderstorm or other overcast weather, you have to bust out some lumination assistance.

 

Fire is great if you have a fireplace, unless it's a really hot summer. If not, you might resort to candles. The technology's been around for thousands of years. A more modern twist on the candle you might choose is the kerosene lantern. But these all have some major safety issues- especially when mixed with pets or children. Take kerosene- how many western movies feature a lantern being broken by sabotage or negligence, thereby consuming barns full of straw? Candles can be tipped over by curious children. If you can, keep the fire outside. There are much safer alternatives.

 

And what about ignition sources? How many non-smokers keep matches or lighters ready for all those tea candles the wife bought from co-workers' candle parties? Even if you don't prescribe to candling, it's a great idea to keep a simple Bic-type disposable lighter in the house. It can be submerged under water, allowed to dry, and it'll still work. Just make sure the kids can't get to it.

 

Maybe fire isn't for you. The power might be off in your home, but that doesn't mean electricity can't come to your aid. Flashlights are the darkness-battling weapon of choice in modern America. But flashlights require batteries in most cases. And where is the flashlight? Do you remember that in a pinch? You could keep a flashlight in every room of the house, in a universal location- say, the left hand side of whatever drawer you put it in.

 

There's also the bulb issue. Kids drop stuff, and a dropped incandescent bulb, even a super-bright krypton bulb, will break on impact. LED is much better. Resists impacts and uses far less electricity. And many LED flashlights are capable of changing color, or switching to a blinking mode. USeful for emergencies, or just amusing the kids.

 

Battery powered flashlights are so old-school, though. Instead of raiding the remote controls in an emergency to find batteries, today you can turn to crank-powered and even solar-powered flashlights . Crank lights are great for kids, who always forget to turn flashlights off anyway. Not only can your neanderkid have their own source of light, they can be amused for some time cranking and cranking on it every couple of minutes to recharge. Just make sure you get enough crank lights for all the kids, and that you make sure they put them back where they belong. Like hanging from a wriststrap on a wall hook or door knob.

 

Flashlights are swell, until you have to go potty. For us dads, we need our hands for other than lght holding. It's instances like that where an electric lantern is a life saver. And unlike flashlights, you only need one for the family. It can light up a room, is free-standing and there's simply no need for each kid to have their own. Although you can get AA powered lanterns for under $10 so each kiddo can carry light around with them. And, like flashlights, there are now crank-powered lanterns. Many have built in radios and ports for charging cell phones.  

 

Finally, there's one truly awesome light source that I highly recommend for emergencies. Cyalumes, or "glowsticks". These simple plastic tubes, filled with chemicals separated by a glass ampule, create a whole night's worth of cold light, simply by bending (breaking the ampule inside) and shaking (mixing the chemicals up). They can light up a room fairly well, with no fire hazard. Most even have hooks which fit quite nicely on ceiling fan pull cords. Or you can put them on string and make each of the kids their very own glow necklace. Put one in a jar or glass and now you've got a table top glow lantern. They work under water. They come in different colors. They also range in price from cheap up to as much as $4 a stick. Every camping section carries them.

 

And don't forget that glowsticks come in different shapes and sizes. I prefer the 6" camping kind. They can be kept in drawers and are often found in first aid kits. You can also find glowstick bracelets and necklaces that are designed to be kid friendly. Our local Target sells tubes of bracelets- fifteen for $1. Not much light to read or pee by, but the kids love the novelty of them.

 

Glowsticks do have some safety concerns though. For one, if you let your neanderkid bend it back and forth, over and over, it won't get brighter. In fact, the plastic will crack and spray glowing liquid out. Sometimes into your kid's eyes. As long as no glass gets in, it isn't very serious. Maybe just a trip to the hospital E.R. to have the eye flushed. And the expelled glowstick liquid fades to invisibility on carpet and curtains after just a few days.

 

Glowsticks are also temperature sensitive. Leave one in the hot glovebox of your car and the plastic starts to break down. So that when you go to bend and crack one to life, it bursts open and sprays glowing chemicals all over the carpet. Better to keep your glowsticks in a cool, dark place. In fact, once activated, you can put them in the freezer to extend their life span an extra day or two.

 

There are other emergency light sources you can have around the dadcave and house. Expensive battery packs or battery powered emergency lighting. Flashlights that stay plugged into the wall until needed. Just remember that anything fancy is going to get broken once your kids get their hands on them. Stick to the cheap glowsticks and crank lights and you'll stay out of the darkness.

 

 

 

DON'T COME A KNOCKIN' MY ROCKIN' MINIVAN

After ten years of arguing, I finally convinced the wife that we should get a minivan. Actually, I gave up on one and wanted an SUV. She decided we'd have more room for our two kids and her parents, in the minivan.

 

I have to say, the minivan is pretty spectacular.

 

First off, we wisely chose not to pay depreciation- we got a 2005 van from Carmax, with their super-duper guarantee. Which means that for less than a new van, we got something that was fully loaded in 2005. Leather, heated seats, and ALL the extras. Yeah, it has a few miles, but with kids we put about 5000 miles a year on our vehicles. Used will last us quite a while.

 

But as much as I'm enjoying the minivan, with all that increased interior cargo space and old man-comfort, I have to take issue with something. The minivan's image. Even my wife remarked how a minivan is a woman's vehicle. Say what?!

 

Okay, for the record, my dream vehicle is a jacked up, AWD minivan with roll bars, off-road rally lights and all the luxuries. I want to be able to go anywhere, in Cadillac luxury. With plenty of room to spare. Our current ride falls a tad short of these goals: It's FWD, but does have traction control. No rally lights, but it has some tremendously bright fog lights. I realize in a roll over it wouldn't fare so well, but to be honest, I drive like a grandpa, so I don't envision any rollovers in the immediate future.

 

In looking online, I see there's lotsa hatin' goin' on for minivans. I can see where Jimbob Singlepants might prefer a 4x4 truck to haul carcasses around in the hunting season, but I don't have that need. Nor am I going through middle-age anxiety and need a car capable of being driven four times as fast as the legal speed limit. Nope, I'm a dad. I have two girls, a wife and a dog. I need more room than a truck can offer.

 

In my online research to determine the origins of minivan hate, I looked at a bunch of sites online. One, Why Minivans Suck sums it up in several ridiculous points:

 

1. They're too big

2. They're too big for drivers stuck behind them

3. They're full of screaming kids

4. The people who drive them have no business driving something that "big"

 

First off, when is big unmanly? And when do women EVER want to be considered big?

 

Should I care people behind me can't see? They can't see past tractor trailers either. Are they going to follow a big rig to a truckstop and tell the tobacky chawin' driver he's driving something better suited for soccer moms?

 

"Full" of screaming kids? Hey, it's a van, it can hold, volume-wise, way more than it has seats. My 91 Toyota Camry, that was "full" of screaming kids. Nowhere for the sound to go but in my ears where it began liquifying my brain. Thank God for the internal capacity of the minivan so I have some room for those bouncing banshee soundwaves.

 

There are loads of drivers on the road that shouldn't be. I don't think it matters one bit whether they're on a Japanese crotchrocket motorcycle, in a middle age super car or a big honkin' 4x4 with huge mudders. Most people don't buy their vehicle based on need. At least, not until they become a parent. Then it's budget first, need second.

 

Minivans are not HUGE. They're mini. Duh. The vans of the 70s, like the Ford Econoline- those were huge vans. Minivans are much smaller and easier to operate, what with the 12 windows and oversized rear view mirrors. And who could possibly not see you in a minivan? No danger of being rear-ended.

 

Yes, Minivans do help moms. In our modern Mom-does-it-all-Dad's-a-boob society, the minivan could help with child and household chores. Like soccer practice and grocery shopping. But they do more. Much more.

 

When was the last time a mom ran down to Home Depot to buy a sheet of drywall to repair that hole in the wall caused by the rowdy kids? That's dad's job. And a sheet of 4 x 8 drywall fits in the back of a minivan much easier than the pick up truck, or Crown Victoria. And it stays dry.

 

What about the drive in? Surely dads go to that as well. Why take dad's truck, forcing the kids to ride (illegally) in the bed, when you can take the DVD entertainment system-on-wheels?

But the real decider for why minivans aren't just for mom goes back to the size. The internal size. Most moms are smaller than dads. Yet minivans can accomodate folks up to 6'4" tall. They have plenty of shoulder and elbow room. More than in any SUV I've ever ridden in (except maybe a Suburban). Why would a tiny mom need all that room?

 

Stow N Go seating? Why, throw in a tarp and I could put JimBob's deer carcass right in the back. Hopefully it will actually be dead when I do so.

 

Minivan's can accept trailer hitches. When was the last time you saw a mom launching a small boat for some fishing with the soccer team?

 

Do mom's need all those internal 12V adapters? My van has five! three up front! I know kids want to charge their Nintendo DS' on the go, but clearly gadgets fall much more in the dad domain, and my minivan expects the driver to have two gadgets just for him/herself.

 

Minivans aren't just for chicks. They're for families. They meet a need for space, luxury and utility quite nicely. And unless Mary Kay gives one out as a sales prize, I don't expect to be seeing any pink minivans anytime soon.

TO THE DADCAVE, LET'S GO!

Whether you're a new dad, or a dad starting out the new year, it's time to think about yourself. Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween before the New Year were all about the kids. But they're over. Now you've got a few quiet months with hopefully no yard work and some time to actually relax.

Do you have somewhere to do that?

Every dad needs a special place they can retreat to and unwind from the stress of work and parenting. Lately though, I'm seeing a lack of respect for dad. There's even a new show on one of the DIY channels that mocks Mancaves in favor of family rooms.

That's just preposterous.

Dads, we need our own place. We need a Dad Cave. A place we can call our own, do our own thing, but still be close enough by to help out when needed.

What makes the best dadcave? A basement. It's soundproofed, is easier to heat and cool due to it's semi-subterranean nature, and is fairly storm resistant- so all the cool crap you jam into it for your fatherly entertainment is sure to stay safe and sound.

Oh sure, you could opt for a Fortress of Solitude- an unattached garage- to spend your time in. It worked for Superman, right? Alas, while garages boast lots of cool tools and a sheltered place to work on the car, mower, etc., they lack the creature comforts of a basement. And a bathroom. And let's face it, in winter, you don't want to have to trudge even 20 feet out in the snow to go sit on the throne.

What about a den or library? These above ground retreats may have worked well for the Atomic Dad of the 1950s and 60s, but being above ground, it's easier access for the missus and pretty much guarantees frequent inspections, calls for cleaning and maybe even decorating from her. Best to sequester yourself below the surface where wives fear to tread.

But the best argument for a basement retreat? Batman has one.

Seriously, who is cooler than Batman? He's a billionaire playboy, with a batload of awesome gadgets, cars, motorcycles, boat and planes. He's a dad- albeit a single, adoptive one. He fights crime with no super powers. And unlike some armored, high tech playboys, he's not a drunk. Batman rules. Clearly, he is the coolest dad ever. Just ask Robin.

So now that you've seen the light and are ready to get rid of some of those boxes of crap the wife will never use again, claim a corner of the basement and start tricking out your very own dadcave. As you plan, keep a few things in mind:

BIGGER ISN'T BETTER. My pal recently built a new house and engineered this ginormous basement. I know he married a daughter of the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe, and has several dozen family over every weekend- thereby necessitating a large family room- but this works against him on those rare occasions it's just him and his own horde of wife and kids.

You can't get any private time in a vast cavern. A smaller space is easier to regulate temperature and doesn't invite people to come in and rain on your underground parade. You don't have a batmobile, -boat, -plane or a crime fighting lab, so you don't really need all that square footage. Just something big enough for a pool table, a dry bar and four or five of your closest pals to gather around the big screen TV.

IF THEY CAN REACH IT, IT WILL BREAK. Now that you have your own special room, you're likely tempted to start stocking it with all the cool crap your wife made you box up and put in the attic. Like old trophies, matchbox cars, or your childhood GI Joes. Bear in mind though that your neanderkids will come into the dadcave- especially when you're not home. If they can reach any of your prized possessions, they will touch, and more than likely, break them. Keep the valuable stuff up high.

IF IT CAN BE STAINED, IT WILL BE. Whether it's your kids, or your buddies after a few beers, there will be spills in the dadcave. If you don't mind stains, go ahead and put in white carpet and get a comfy cloth recliner. If you want to not have to spend more time and effort than a shop vac requires to operate, go for leather furniture and dark carpets or tiled floors. I prefer the dark, indoor/outdoor carpet, as it helps absorb sound when the kids won't shut up while I'm watching TV.

CREATURES WANT COMFORT. If you get your way, you're going to be spending a lot of time in the dadcave. So you want to be comfortable. Archie Bunker, Al Bundy, Homer Simpson- they all understood the need for somewhere comfortable to sit. Even if the power goes out, squirrels gnaw through the cable lines or a low flying plane knocks out your satellite, you've still got somewhere to sit. Preferably a recliner, so you can sleep there too. I also recommend a blanket and small pillow within arm's reach in case you just decide to take an extended winter's nap.

THE ELECTRONIC WINDOW SEES ALL. Captain Kirk didn't sit in front of a window on the Enterprise. Batman doesn't read telegrams from around Gotham. You need a TV to stay in touch with, or retreat from, the world. Preferably one connected to cable or satellite, the internet and a gaming system of some kind. Before you pump a lot of money into a TV big enough to serve as a dining room table, bear in mind you also need surround sound (to drown out the wife and kids) and a DVD or Bluray for those cable/satellite outage periods. And you don't need a humongous TV. Sit a little closer to that 42" TV and it looks bigger.

A DAD TRAVELS ON HIS STOMACH. Why walk up the stairs to get food when you could have a micro kitchen next to the TV? A simple dry bar with microwave, dorm refrigerator and even a George Foreman grill allows you to maintain a stockpile of food and drinks within arm's reach. And forget putting in a sink. That means plumbing, and plumbing means leaks. Paper plates and plastic cups and utensils work fine at picnics and will do just as well in your basement. Trust me- the first time you can grill burgers while watching the big game, you'll never want to go outside again.

SHELVES ARE MADE OF WOOD. All that cool electronics and creature comforts are going to get expensive. So you need to save where you can. Sure, sure, you could go buy some fancy book cases made of intricately-bent wire and tube steel, but really, why bother? Just run down to the local home-supply store and buy a minivan-full of 1x8s and some wood screws. Throw in a drill and saw, and in no time you'll have custom-fitted shelves for little to no expense. They may not look as nice as the wife's coordinated living room suite, but once you stack all your trinkets, movies and games on them, they'll look just fine.

CAVES ARE DARK FOR A REASON. If you were performing surgeries, or constructing intricate electronic components, lots of light might be helpful in the dadcave. But you're going to be sitting back, relaxing and watching the boob tube. It makes its own light. Don't go overboard with track lighting and reading lights and all that girly nonsense. Throw in a couple of lights with the switch near your recliner (or install a remote control) and you're gold. All you need to be able to see is where you put the remotes.

THEY'RE CALLED "OUTHOUSES" FOR A REASON. Yes, it might seem like a good idea to have one of Thomas Crapper's flushing toilets nearby, but is it really? Do want to do your business, then have to sit in the smell of it while watching TV? Far better to leave the dadcave, go upstairs and do your dirty deeds elsewhere. And imagine if you have the guys over. Do you really want to smell what you fed them? Keep the bathroom as far from the dadcave as possible. Preferably on another floor. Plus, then your wife will clean it.

TWO CAVES ARE BETTER THAN ONE. Once your dadcave is finished, it will be the coolest damn place in your home- at least to you and the neanderkids. Are you really ready to share and watch your manly retreat turn into a romper room littered with Barbie shoes and lego bricks? The best way to keep the dadcave yours is to build an adjoining playroom. Kids aren't so demanding, either. They don't need surround sound, and don't appreciate picture quality. Outfitting them with an older or smaller TV will often do the trick. Throw in your old Playstation 2 as combination DVD player/gaming system, and they're set. Put up a couple of dry erase boards on the walls, and the kids can do cave art to their hearts' content. But best of all, give the kids permission to make the playroom as messy as they want. Then when they leave their toys in the dadcave, you can fling them over to the playroom and the kids will never notice.

　

There you have it. The basics of good dadcave design. You can add more, or fancy it up if you must, but these are the minimum enhancements for an enjoyable winter hibernation.

Troglo 'View: George Foreman in My Basement

The Dadcave is a place where all dads can go and relax, yet still be available for the family. It's a secluded place with a comfortable chair, a big TV, snacks and a refrigerator for cold drinks. But what about some freshly-cooked meat? Do you really want to go outside to the charcoal grill, then back inside to watch your favorite show or sports event? Why not grill WHILE you watch TV?

 

That was my thought, so I purchased a George Foreman, 60 sq. inch, Lean Mean Grilling Machine. I got mine on sale at Target for $24.

 

Let's face it, Cheeseburgers are the ultimate man's food. No utensils are needed to eat them. They have bread, meat, cheese, and if you swing that way, veggies. It's all four food groups (meat, dairy, grains and plants) all in one compact package. And this electric grill proclaims to cook them with ease.

 

For me, charcoal is the only way to cook a burger. I like the burnt flavor of the wood, the singed, crispy outer shell of beef and the ability to lay my cheese on and start it melting before removal from the grill. George Foreman on the otherhand, is all about healthy eating, and draining off the liuid fat trapped inside burgers.

 

In 5 minutes, my 4 burgers came out reasonably well. Albeit a little less tasty than off the old Smokey Joe Weber Grill I keep outside. The fat had indeed been liquified and drained off the burgers. Something that didn't taste so good, but which dead mean I ended up with a clean shirt and recliner when I was done eating. And as an experiment, I overcooked a couple of burgers by one minute and was able to reasonably simulate the crispy, burnt outershell I like from from charcoaled burgers.

 

An added benefit of the grill was the delicious aroma in the dadcave. Forget that girly potpourri crap the wives always want to stink the house up with. My dadcave now smells like burgers. Mmmmmm.

 

Alas, George Foreman's grill is a bit messy afterwards. My dadcave sports a drybar- no sink for cleaning anything. So I'm going to have to carry the grill upstairs to clean it. But that can easily wait until the next day. My bar's big enough I can leave the grill out when done cooking, and still have room for bowls of chips, cups, or whatever food I need for my relaxtion.

 

Overall? It's no substitute for fire from charcoal, but the ease of use and convenience of grilling in the same room you relax in makes this a VERY worthwhile purchase. Cave-tested and Dad approved.

I'm working with a bunch of kids!

Who the f*&k steals water?

 

You put a bottle of water in the communal fridge at work, you shouldn't have to put your name on it... but I guess I should have. Cause when I went back 24 hours later to get me a nice, chilled bottle of water, it was gone. This is doubly perplexing seeing as how we have a water fountain on our floor.

 

It's like being at home.

 

I'm sure it's happen to many a dad. You have those special orange-creme sodas stashed in the back of the fridge, waiting for them to get near-iced. And then the damn kids drink them without telling you. Or maybe it's that pack of oreos you hid by the recliner to munch on during the latest episode of "The Walking Dead". How are you supposed to enjoy a good zombie show without snacks?

 

I need a locking lunch box. Something with a frickin' padlock on it. THEN I could be assured to get the last of the Pringles Cheezums, or that last bag of beef jerky. Or my damn bottle of water.

 

Anybody make one?

Christmas: It Ain't Over When the Fatman Brings

Well, here we are, December 28th, and people are ripping down their Christmas decorations in anticipation of the coming weekend of alcoholism. Gone is any shred of goodwill as people put away all the crap they got and lament credit card bills from their Ho Ho spending sprees.

 

People, Christmas isn't over. It's just begun.

 

First off, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ. Sure, sure, some Roman picked a date that was near to the Winter Solstice so the pagans could still party on. But Christmas still retains "Christ" in the name, so let's not forget the true origin. The whole reason for all of this is Jesus was born. I'm not going to preach to you though. I'm going to point out that the Three Wisemen didn't cross the desert, show up hours after the birth, drop a bunch of presents then say "happy birthday, kid. See you around" then leave. They stuck around.

 

Ever hear of the twelve days of Christmas? Assuming December 25th to be day #1, we're really only on Day 4. We have 8 more days to go! Let's continue to be festive and cheerful. Let's keep those decorations up. Let's play with the gifts our loved ones worked so hard to get us. Let's be nice to one another.

 

Who cares one year is ending and another is beginning? It's just numbers on a calendar. What really changes? Fishing licences expire one year after issue, not on December 31st. The plates on my car expire in a month corresponding with the first letter of my last name, not December 31st. The TV season continues for another couple of months.

 

Why such a fuss over "New Year"? Christmas is way more important. For one, Christ was born, allowing us all to be saved, if we choose. That's awesome. For another- going back to the solstice- our days are getting longer now. Also awesome. We have new stuff. Non-Christians are huge on "stuff". Enjoy your new stuff. If you got a netbook or iPad for Christmas, you're still enjoying it FOUR days later, right? And how many of us are still munching on leftovers and extra cookies? How many schoolkids are still on Christmas break? Mine sure are.

 

The party is not over. Let's keep the wisemen around another week.  Let's all be reformed Scrooges and keep the holiday in our hearts for at least another week.

 

When you really think about it, now is when we truly get to enjoy Christmas. The pre-season stress is all gone. The decorations are already up. The cooking is over with. No presents to scramble and fight over. No wrapping to do. With the shopping over, no more fighting for parking spaces or crowded streets. I bet most of you even have your returns done.

 

Those of us with kids know that birthday parties are a major headache. But afterwards, the kids all run around and play and we can sit back and relax, our mission accomplished. That's how we should treat Christmas too. The hard stuff is over and now it's time to just relax and remember what the holiday is really about.

 

Merry Christmas!

Troglo 'view: Call of Duty- Black Ops (Xbox 360)

NOTE: This is a review by a casual gamer over 40. It's not intended for boosters, glitchers, cheaters or those 16 and under.

 

 

Once again, people have managed to screw up what could otherwise be a passable game.

 

For the purposes of this review, I'm going to make comparisons to the best three 'shooters I've played on Xbox; Rainbow Six Vegas 2 (R6V2), Battlefield Bad Company 2 (BC2) and the Ghost Recon Advanced Warfares 1& 2 (GRAW). In my opinion these three games contain all the elements to make the perfect shooter, just not in one game. Further, this review is based on about 4 hours of game play.

 

COD BO is the sequel to Call of Duty: World at War (COD WAW). As such, I expected it to be similar, but improved from COD WAW. Alas, that's not necessarily the case.

 

Single player does appear to have better graphics, but the gameplay is remarkably similar. There's that frantic fast pace where you run along and shoot while being shot at. You can't really plan your mission as in R6V2 or GRAW, you're stuck following a timeline the game designers have envisioned. The first level was pretty much a rail shooter for me.

 

Zombie mode lets you jump right in, instead of playing through the whole campaign first. The first map is Kino Der Untoten (Cinema of the Dead), a bombed out German theater that appears to have been rotting away for 20 years after WWII. Player one, instead of being TanK Dempsey, is now Dr. Nazi, or whatever his name is. It plays pretty much like the old Nazi Zombie levels. I didn't get far in my attempts as none of the strangers I talked to wanted to communicate. They miss the fact this is a tactical game, and not just a shooting alley.

 

Multiplayer Training was a nice addition to the game. It's like R6V2's terrorist hunt, in that it pits you, and co-op players if you wish, against AI-controlled opponents in a mimicry of online gaming. A really neat feature is the game randomly selects names from your own friends list for the AI opponents. So you get to grease your friends without them being there.

 

The annoying part about training mode was that the experience I earned didn't carry over to my Multiplayer online scores. All those weapons I unlocked remained locked when I did switch to multiplayer. That's crap. R6V2 offered a great system where campaign play and terrorist hunt earned you experience to unlock weapons to use in online play. This levelled the playing field for those of us who don't boost, and can only play a game a few hours a week- cause we have jobs 'n' such.

 

Which brings me to multiplayer. I hated it.

 

The early interviews for COD BO sure made it sound like you'd be able to buy this and that, that you could earn experience off line, etc. etc. All lies. I played the game less than 24 hours after it was released, and already there were players ranked up to level 19 or higher. That means that they had far superior weapons than me. Which means I was getting slaughtered. Not much fun.

 

Worse, the game was touted as having a customization feature- you could design your own logo, customize your weapons, and even change your face paint and camo. Once you've reached a high enough level.

 

See, you earn experience in the game to reach ranks, and you earn COD points- kind of like MS points, that are used to buy weapons, attachments, perks, etc. once you've unlocked them by reaching a specific rank. As for your custom icons... well again, the premade images you can recolor, resize, etc. have to be unlocked and purchased. You can't even think of customizing your logo/icon until reaching rank level 10 in the game. Something that can be done in about 4 hours of continuous, stubborn, get-killed-repeatedly game play.

 

Customizable? My ass. R6V2 was customizable. Yes, you had to unlock things, but you could mix and match pants and shirts, carry different weapons and even change your face. In COD BO, you have a uniform choice, and when you've played long enough you can pick from pre-set face paints. Wow. That's really customizable.

 

What about MP game modes? Well, those are locked out as well. You start with just two: Deathmatch and team deathmatch, both of which I despise. I like objective-based gaming, like BC2's Conquest mode. Or R6V2's Terrorist Hunt, where the enemies stay down and don't respawn.

 

After a few rank ups, you do get some extra MP modes. I prefer Domination so far- it's just like BC2's Conquest.

 

 

But what about gameplay?

 

Well, in MP, there are some problems. Lag is one big problem. As is weapon damage. Many times I'd score multiple hits on an opponent but they kept on coming. And why is it a knife can take you out with one slash, but a tri-burst from an M-16 can't? Stupid.

 

Then there are the cheaters. I only saw a couple possible lag switchers, but glitchers and boosters were prevalent. I refuse to believe anyone could honestly rank up to level 19 in under 24 hours of play. And how on earth did that one guy figure out how to reach a ledge that shouldn't be reachable?

 

COD BO does have one advantage over BC2- you can go prone. Unfortunately, most of the game you see people doing Greastest American Hero impersonations- leaping and going prone, like they're trying to take off and fly. Why the game limits your sprinting, but not your jumping is beyond me.

 

Overall, the COD BO MP experience seemed identical to COD WAW's. Same graphics, same mechanics, same frustrations. I really see no improvement here, other than slightly more modern weaponry. Maybe there are better game modes I haven't unlocked yet?

 

 

Nitpicks?

 

I have several, but will undoubtably uncover more as I unlock the ranks in this. Assuming I keep this game that long. First, Vietnam-era M-16s (the game is set in the 1960s and 1970s, even though the Cold War officially ended in the 1990s), did not fire tribursts. They were single or full auto. I carried a Nam-era M-16 when I was stationed in Germany, 1990-1992. The M-16A1 also was single/full auto, but added a forward assist. The M-16A2, had the forward assist and the tri-burst or single.

 

Then there's the Enfield. The first assault rifle you unlock as you rank up. It does full auto, but does more damage than the M-16. Which is funny, considered both weapons use the exact same round, the NATO 5.56mm, and even the same magazines.

 

As for weapon attachments, I found it odd that the only zoomable scope for the M-16 was a nightvision scope. I would think you could put a 12x scope on an M-16 if you really wanted to, yet it isn't an option in the game.

 

 

What is Black Ops missing?

 

Better initial weapons. Why not give low ranks weapons they do great damage, but have low ammo, or maybe aren't accurate at a distance? Why give them spitball guns? How on Earth can I rank up firing a musket at people with ray guns?

 

More customizable player models. Wow. I can pick what camo I wear, but not hat, goggles.. oh, hell- I'll just say it. It's nothing like R6V2. Anybody who claims to be customizable needs to look hard at R6V2. THAT was customizable.

 

Destructible enviroments. I love in BC2 I can breach the side of a building with some C4 or an M203. I love shooting down trees that obscure my vision. What I don't love is running around an indestructible maze like I'm playing Lazer Tag or paintball. To be fair, there are barrels, windows and parked cars you can blow up/destroy, but it's just not the same. I want to level a building.

 

Closing doors. Oh, God, the doors. Why taunt me with a door I can't open or close? R6V2 had doors you could open or close. Which was great for alerting you to someone coming up behind you. You could hear them coming.

 

Driveable vehicles in the game. They made such a big damn deal about the Jeep Wrangler being in the game. Oh, it's in there- parked. You can hide behind it, or blow it up, but that's about it. It might as well be on a billboard, like R6V2's in-game advertising. Not to mention that 4-door Jeeps are a fiarly recent addition to the Jeep lineup, and not a staple of the Cold War.

 

 

Final Decision Time

So, do you buy or rent this? Is it Call of Duty: Blagh Ops, or Call of Doody: Brown Oops?

 

You have to remember this game has the Nazi zombies. A superb game mode. Not $65 superb, but lots of fun. I would much rather have seen Treyarch just release new levels with new weapons for COD WAW, then make me buy a whole new game that doesn't recognize my prior COD gaming (Battlefield players are rewarded veteran status for previous incarnations of the game played).

 

I only play a few hours friday and saturday. I don't have time to rank up like the kids that don't work. BC2 solved that problem like driving games do- they let you buy the weapons other folks boost to unlock. Sure, sure, that means spending even more money on an already over-priced game. But in BC2's case, it made all the difference and I started actually enjoying the game. More than this stinker.

 

Bottom line; rent before you buy, unless you have hours and hours of time to rank up.

 

 

GEEK DAD or MOM?

So I was reading one of my favorite sites recently, Gizmodo.com, and I noticed a link to a review of MACHETE the new mexploitation flick starring Danny Trejo. The link led me to Wired.com's GEEKDAD section.

After I read the article I checked out the comments and was shocked to see a parent talking about how the movie might not be appropriate for the average kids due to the boobage, but that hers were jaded to that kind of thing.

Yeah, HERS. The writer of this GeekDAD article was a chick. Kathy Ceceri, to be exact. In looking over Geek "dad" some more, I found two more chicks regularly contributing: Jenny Williams and Corrina Lawson.

WTF?!

Can men have nothing? It's bad enough modern society has protrayed dads as ignorant boobs barely trustworthy enough to carry the shopping bags of their braless, independant women spouses. But now the byotches want to take away our "Dad" title? First it was actress- a word that isn't used anymore in favor of Actor. Now this. What's next, will we all be "Men" regardless of our posture when urinating?

Hey, Wired, if you're that hard up for men to write your articles, feel free to reprint any of my ramblings. Or, if the chicks are threatening you with lawsuits, give them their own "Geekmom" section. I'd tell you to have the balls to stand up to the feminists in your midst, but I'm guessing that phrase has lost it's meaning to you.

MARRIAGE IS LIKE STAR WARS...

(NOTE: Star Wars, it's characters, places and things are all copyrighted and trademarked by Lucasfilm and are referenced herein solely for the purpose of discussion and critique. Please don't sue me George!)


So it struck me this morning, being a dad, married... it's all like Star Wars.

I used to be a single guy, trying to make my way in the universe. I had a best friend I paled around with. Then a Princess came into my life. At least she thinks she's a Princess. And like Leia, while she has no royal standing, her parents treated her like one. Sadly though, after this scruffy looking nerf herder got married, the Princess turned into Jabba the Hut. Now, that's not a fat remark or anything. I'm sure most women would say it was a fat joke. No, I'm referring to Jabba's lifestyle. Laying around, watching others, watching TV... not doing a whole helluva lot.

And just try and screw something up. Your wife may not put a price on your head, but it can sure feel that way.

Then there's the droids. Or "kids", if you prefer. I have a tall golden (haired) kid, and a short, noisy kid. And while this man's best friend may walk on four legs instead of two, doesn't speak english, is covered in fur and annoyingly never leaves my side, she's no Chewbacca. If only dogs could be more like Wookies.

And while you may not be shuttling around some old geezer and a teenager from some backwater Rim world, you probably have the inlaws around a lot.

Being a dad is a lot like being Han Solo. A lot is expected of you. From smuggling the kids off to school in less than twelve parsecs, to having old debts to pay off. Sure, as a Dad, you wanted to be a fancy Jedi, but in the end, you're shooting through life in some piece of junk you've heavily modified, sometimes wishing you could switch the kids off like droids, or that Jabba the Wife really would freeze you in carbonite, so you wouldn't have to listen to the griping anymore.

I suppose there are worse characters you could end up as. I just wish I really did have a good blaster by my side.

Fatherhood Survival Tips: Save Your Breath

Once upon a time, we were all kids. And we often didn't listen to our parents. They griped about it, saying things like "you don't listen, do you?".

Ironically, when we grow up and have kids, they don't listen to us. It's clearly the normal way of the world. Why then do we get so frustrated? Maybe that's normal too.

As a dad you have to learn to save your breath. Take my own encounter this morning with stubborn, ignoring girls:

My oldest (11) does the morning school clothes runway walk, "how does this look, dad?"

It looks 2 sizes too small, I think. Instead, I tell her "that's too small."

"But we JUST bought it! I've never worn ot before!" She whines.

Thus begins a lecture about how she and her mother refuse to buy clothes that fit. Instead they rely on numbers and letters to select clothes. I babble on about how I keep telling them to try clothes on, don't just trust the size label, different clothes are cut diff-

I stop.

"You know, I've told you this multiple times before, and you never listen. Why should I keep telling you. I give up. Wear what you want, but don't complain to me about how your clothes fit, later."

Like when they're too tight, and four hours into school they start getting uncomfortable.

Yeah, that saved my blood pressure. I mean, why tell somebody anything more than twice? If they aren't going to listen, they aren't going to listen. Talking louder only works for the hard of hearing.

Father knows best, but nobody listens. That should be every dad's motto. But there's no since being mad about it- it's a fact of life. Accept it, move on, and have a better day.

THOR'S DAY RANT: Burning the Koran would be bad!

Fire good. Koran bad.

 

Why mix good with bad?

 

Fire gives us steaks, burgers, bread, illumination and warmth. Why would we want to taint it with the Koran?

 

Take crap, for example. Would you want to throw a turd on a perfectly good fire then stand around and inhale the poo fumes? I sure wouldn't want to.

 

Oh, and yes, I am equating the Koran to crap. Or rather, a load of crap.

 

See, as I understand it (and I'm sure I'll be corrected if I'm wrong) the Koran was written from 610 to 632 A.D., according to wikipedia. And this was done after this dude Muhammed claimed an angel, "Jibril", met him and told him what to write.

 

As a Christian, I gots problems with that. Lots of problems. But I think this passage can explain better than me:

 

Galatians 1:6-12

I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ unto another gospel: Which is not another; but there be some that trouble you, and would pervert the gospel of Christ. But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any [man] preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed. For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ. But I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached of me is not after man. For I neither received it of man, neither was I taught [it], but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.

 

 

Now, I'm not denying anyone the right to read the Koran. But if I'm really a Christian, I need to be true to my religion and pronounce Islam as false. I'd be some kind of apologetic hypocrite if I didn't. And even if I think the Muslims are all Hell-destined heathens, I have to respect they stick to their guns and don't wiffle-waffle on their false beliefs.

 

But just because I think the Koran is a load of crap, I'm not going to ruin a perfectly good fire with one. Nor would I wipe my ass with the Koran. And I wouldn't shoot the Koran into space where impressionable aliens might find it and be converted to Islam. No, the only sane method of disposal I can think of for the Koran is a nuclear furnace. Something that reduces it to it's component atoms. Alas, we don't have one of those, so I guess the Korans should just be left alone for now.

 

But you do what you want with your Koran- just make sure I'm upwind when you do it.

Chicken Month!

Holy Chickpeas, Batman! September is National Chicken Month!

 

Show your clucking pride in this staple American food by devouring one of the juicy little bastards EACH AND EVERY DAY!

 

For example, my family dined on the King of Chicken, Chick Fila tonight! Chicken sandwhiches! Chicken Nuggets! Chicken Strips! why, our family of four was indirectly responsible for the death of 4 chickens tonight alone!

 

How you ask? One chicken produces only 2 breasts. We had four sandwhiches (4 breasts) a 3 piece of strips and a 12 count of nuggets. That's at least 4 chicken breasts right there! Take that PETA!

 

What? How can you eat chicken every day for a month? Not a problem! Me and the kids figured it out on the way home as the delicious scent of all that bird wafted in the car:

 

Chicken Noodle Soup

Chicken and Rice Soup

Chicken and Dumplings

Chicken Rice

Chicken Nuggets

Chicken McNuggets

KFC

Burger King's Chicken Fries

Popeye's spicy chicken

Chicken Strips

Chicken Tenders

Chicken fingers

Chicken Patties

Popcorn Chicken

Chicken Kiev

Shake and Baked Chicken

Home Made Fried Chicken

Chicken Parmesan

BBQ chicken

teriyaki Chicken

Hot Wings

Grilled Chicken

Oven-roasted Chicken

Grilled Chicken Salad

Subway Chicken Sandwich

Sliced Chicken Coldcuts

 

And don't forget the baby Chickens, mwuhahahahahaha:

 

Scrambled Eggs

Eggs over Easy

Eggs Sunnyside Up

Omelletes

Boiled Eggs

Poached Eggs

Deviled Eggs

Powdered Eggs

Chicken Salad

 

WHEW! That's a lot of chicken! So do your part! Don't beak afraid! EET MORE CHIKIN'!

DEAD RISING 2: CASE ZERO

So I was home sick yesterday... not infected by a zombie outbreak, just fighting a little stomach flu. So I turned on the old Xbox and whattyaknow- I got to fight some zombies...

 

Dead Rising 2: Case Zero, a pay-demo was up for download.

 

In a word: Definitely buy this for 400 points if you are considering the full game. That's about the cost of an HD rental from XBLive, and it takes about 3 hours (if you knew what you were doing) to race through the storyline.

 

 

The Specifics

 

A couple of years ago, Xbox released "Dead Rising" a "zombie" survival 3rd person game that saw you as a photographer trapped in a Mall (shades of "Dawn of the Dead" trying to gather supplies, rescue others and get the hell out of Dodge- or Williamett (something like that, I forget the exact town name). The game featured typical third person view, but had the nifty feature that you could pick up nearly anything to bash zombies with- cash registers, guitars, benches, even potted plants. And the "zombies" were actually infected humans, controlled by tiny bug-queens that could be captured and squished- causing nearby zombie heads to explode. The game had a super-long plot, featured lots of great gore, and very little firearms.

 

DR2:C0 is more of the same. The plot is you're a famous motorcycle rider, ala Johnny Blaze. Your daughter got bit by your wife who was already turned. You're giving her shots every 12 hours to keep her from turning. Some asshole steals your truck as you refuel in some po-dunk town, abandoning you and your little girl. You hole up in a gas station, and you have 12 hours to search the town to find more medicine and either wait for the Army to show up, or find another vehicle and split.

 

New weapons abound in the game. My personal favorite is the claymore sword, which is for some reason in the gun shop in town. There's also Bowie knives, M16s, handguns, shotguns, hunting recurves, chainsaws, spiked baseball bats... lots of zombie bashing fun.

 

Like before, the zombies are semi-docile, bewildered flesheaters by day, but at night become aggressive and chase after you. You can open and close doors, effectively barricading yourself in various buildings, and time passes about 5 times faster than normal. After you locate (or buy from the local pawnshop) some Zombrex medicine, then you're off to repair a trail bike to ride out of town. The whole mission has to be completed in 11 hours of game time, or just under 4 hours of real time.

 

Survivors include the pawnshop owner, some crazy, rattlesnake-jacket-wearing redneck sniping zombies from a rooftop for fun, a gambler couple from nearby Vegas, etc. etc.

 

I had a blast with it for three hours. Then I started getting frustrated and read the walkthrough online so I could finish the damn thing.

 

Game strategies are to jump, duck, weave and run through the bewildered crowd of zombies. There's too many to shot them all, and the game will just respawn them anyway.

 

Left4Dead is better, because it's all shooting and blowing stuff up. This is more of a scavenging, fighting zombie game than a shooter. Still, it's a lot of fun for a few hours.

 

 

What is this game lacking?

 

Vehicles: They're everywhere, abandoned through the large map. In DR1, there was a motorcycle, convertible, panel van and even an open Humvee you could drive to plow through the crowds of zombies. The demo ends with you motorcycling away, dodging or running over zombies, but I still want a steamroller, or a tank or something...

 

Destructive Enviroment: I appreciate I can shoot out windows, and open and close doors, but why can't I plant a propane tank next to a locked door, shoot it and create a new entry? After Bad Company 1&2, I NEED destructible enviroments.

 

Climbing: You can climb and jump and so forth in this like Mario, but for some reason you can't climb chainlink fences, water pipes, or trees. I know I'm a big guy and climbing a chainlink fence is probably pushing the boundaries of reality, but in the game you're a thin extreme bike dude who should have no problem shinnying up the wall of a building Jackie Chan-style. Why tease me with climbing onto dumpsters, but thendeny me climbing a frickin' fence?

 

Running: Apparently, Chuck Greene (the hero of the game) is carrying bars of lead in his pockets, because he never does more than a wimpy jog-walk. When you're on the roof of a building, the streets teeming with zombies and a distance of only 10 feet separates you from the roof of the gun store, you should be able to take off in a dead run and leap across the roof gap, like something out of Starsky and Hutch. Even I can run faster than Chuck Greene.

 

Fire: Frankenstein was afraid of fire. Even Lego Indiana Jones has fire. Why is there no damned fire in DR2? I saw it in DR1. Why can't I light a building on fire and watch the zombies burn? Why can't I create a barrier of burning fuel on the road to hold zombies at bay? I guess this would fall under the whole destructive enviroment thing...

 

Ammo: Where the F*CK IS THE AMMO? When you're in the hunting store, there's boxes of it sitting out, but you can't pick them up or reload. You empty your M16 into a crowd of zombies until it runs dry, then you throw it on the floor. WTF? Have the game designers heard of bayonets? Even the police station is devoid of ammo. When you kill a zombie cop or soldier, you can't scavenge ammo off them like in GRAW. VERY frustrating.

 

 

Coolest parts of the Demo:

On the roof of the building you start in there's a Barret M82A1 anti-vehicle .50 cal "sniper" rifle. Find the rooftop ladder, climb up and get it. It's not good for up close, but it's rounds can take out three, or four or more zombies in a row. Firing into the densely-packed streets sends zombie limbs flying and is clearly the most awesome part of the game.

 

All the gambling machines around town (the game is set in Vegas) can be smashed and broken, causign them to spit out money. The same for ATMs. That money is used at the pawn shop- once you rescue the shop keeper.

 

 

Overall, I think I'll pass on the full version of DR2 and just stick with this pay-demo when I want to cave in some undead skulls. And this demo just made me wish more for a version of Left4Dead that featured only common infected for my sniping fun.

THOR'S DAY RANT: It's Effin BAD Science...

There's this new show on the G4 channel, and I'm going to have to go all Phil Plait on it's ass for a moment.

 

The show is called "It's Effin Science" and it's been advertised very widely on my satellite service provider, Dish Network. They try and give it a Mythbusters look, with "cool", "hip" sciencey nerds blowing things up, etc. My kids and I love Mythbusters, so I finally watched part of an episode the other Effin night.

 

Awful. So awful, in fact, I am compelled to warn people that watching this show will actually reduce your intelligence.

 

First off, one of the science nerds "built" spy glasses with a mini digital camera in them, recording to a mini SDCard. Oh, so cool...

 

And I can get one for under $50 at www.meritline.com. They've had these devices for several years now. www.thinkgeek.com carries them too...

 

http://www.thinkgeek.com/gadgets/security/c3eb/ for a little more cabbage.

 

Next up, a science nerd built a radio control car with a pan and tilt camera that wirelessly transmits to the base station. He used it to patrol a house to find the other science nerd, who was hiding under a bed. Wow. How exciting. Not exciting enough for me to go to Target and buy a pre-made car like this, though.

 

Oh, and when I say built, I'm not talking about an Adam Savage-like sequence where science nerds injure themselves welding or make clever jokes while scavenging parts. I mean they presented an item to the camera and claimed to have built it.

 

But the final Effin' straw for me came between segments, when they asked viewers what would kill you first in a vacuum: Cold, Radiation or explosive decompression? Their answer was explosive decompression. Yeah, maybe on Star Trek. Or Futurama.

 

What would actually kill you is your lungs rupturing- and this is assuming you jumped out the hatch, holding your breath. Human bodies WOULD NOT explode in a vacuum. Don't believe me?

 

http://imagine.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/ask_astro/answers/970603.html

 

The only redeeming thing that Effin' Science has going for it is that one of the nerds is Chad Zdenek, from G4's Human Wrecking Balls. I don't like Chad, but seeing him reminds me of the awesomeness of Human Wrecking Balls. Good memories there.

 

My final spin on Effin Science?

 

Effin avoid it.