Tis the season . . .

• where carolers ring your bell incessantly and sing off key in hopes of garnering a little holiday cheer and some vintage toddy
• where normal neighbors attempt to compete vigorsly on how much wattage they can apply to their yards to bring the electric switching station to its knees
• where office workers everywhere stress at how to come up with original excuses for not having to attend that obstentatious office party where the boss's flirty wife is obnoxious and everyone has to put on the painted smile right before the .0035 merit checks are handed out
• where inflatable Santas dominate subdivision everywhere by casting an effervescent red hue across the entire skyline and chokes out any possibility whatsoever for any living creature to obtain any ultraviolet radiation
• where you attempt to find a parking spot within the same zip code as the mall despite the fact that even the handicapped spaces are triple parked by cell phone toting, able-bodied, denizens who happen to have a unscrupulous brother-in-law who can sign for the disability placards that can easily be reproduced on a 19.50 color printer. . . if you can only get a spot to buy one at the mall before the moon surfaces.
• where you can watch "It's a wonderful life" for the umteenth time and still get misty eyed over the incredible personality tranformation of George Bailey before you realize that all the bullied, arrogant, crass, and condescending remarks made by the main character seem so much meaner each year where you begin to hope just this one year Mr. Potter finally succeeds or turns into a nice guy via Scrooge transformation
• where you attempt to send that special, hard sought gift for that distant favorite friend only to realize all your packing peanuts refuse to stay in the overpriced corrugated box, but instead decide to static cling you, your dog, your lawn, and entire carpeted surface of your house
• where you can begin a lawsuit to question the need for a nativity scene in front of the local post office even though such a scene will further complicate pedestrian traffic that has crawled to a stop, but regardless will lead to an endless stream of attorneys filing claims on behalf of those who need to see a Kwanzaa display, Menorrah candles, etc. even though the holiday was somehow meant to represent someone's birthday
  
• where those who generally implore others to recycle and save the planet from some unforeseen danger decide to ravage an innocent forest by decimating the latest pine tree to dry out for a month in the comfort of their living room only to be sent reeling head first into the nearest street come January
• where we are barraged with generic christmas letters outlining the latest insignificant accomplishments in poetic prose despite that fact that Uncle Billy who was sent up the river and Auntie Anne is now Auntie Fred were somehow overlooked
• where no one amongst the sane population known as civilization has ever, ever, ever purchased anyone a Lexus as a present despite the marketing claims, but am encouraged that the marketing people truly believe there is some lonely shallow person out there who may bite at the prospect
• where you attempt to be the 15 billionth passenger waiting in line to make it through the airport turnstyles while the other passengers begin to grimace at your holiday green and red socks are on stage display as you take off your shoes through security and realize that the special cotton absorbing material does not retain the smell. . . unfortunately, of your perspiring feet, which obviously alerts the airport personnel who have been observing your awkward movements and decide to detain you and examine you only to determine that you are just "stinky" and place you to the rear of the line to repeat the "groundhog day movie" activities once again
• where you can introduce seemingly insignificant ramblings while still being perceived as the next coming of Kurt Cobain while just trying to wish every one a very happy, safe, and peaceful Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Cool Kwanzaa, Joyeux Noel, Feliz Navidad etc. and the best New Year!
  

Get Smart!

That's an order!

Or at least it could be construed as one. Personally, I'd rather construe it as a sitcom. Agent 86. 99. Who can forget the cones of silence?

This could all be mine! Mine, I tell you!! For a mere $199 that is. Yes, the entire catalogue of Get Smart episodes is available for the low, low price of only $199 from Time Life books.

Okay, maybe the price tag isn't quite as "low, low" as I would like. But I am seriously considering adding it to my Christmas list. Oh, if only Santa read my blog - or, if only anyone read my blog for that matter; but that's a whole different issue. Of course, it may be just as well that Santa doesn't come through; he seems to be using my credit card when he makes his purchases.

Sorry about that, Chief.

Time to give THANKS!

It's that wonderful time of the year that begins shortly before Halloween. No, I'm talking about that profit enhancing enterprise called Christmas. I realize that it's oft overused, but Christmas comes earlier and earlier each year. I noticed the local Wal-Mart already had the Christmas displays up before Halloween. I recall that it was considered sacroligious to begin decorating a tree before Thanksgiving. My, how times have changed! Now, what used to be a joyous occasion, now brings stress to not only the retailers as they scramble to squeeze out that very last cent, but more importantly, it's the average joe who suffers because he has to be up by the crack of dawn to get the newest playstation wiii. Now, I must remind you the most important part of my message: what the begonias ever happened to THANKSGIVING!!!!???!?!? Didn't we forget that this was an important occasion to remember our long ago ancestors who came over on the Mayflower. . . who raped and pillaged the local Indian population. . .er. Native Americans. . .just so we could eat their turkey? Isn't this a day of THANKS?!?! So, I implore you to remember this sacred holiday as you dive in for another round of Aunt Bernice's pecan pie, and think about the other 364 days that we need to appreciate what we have. By the way, I think I'll use Mayflower van lines the next time I move since they go waaaay back. Happy Thanksgiving!

I fight authority and . . .

Because of the era that I grew up, I learned to respect (and abhor) authority. I always try to distance myself from work superiors so as to not appear as the "kiss-up" of the crowd. I do notice the occasional overt "butt-kissers" who do garner some extra attention from the boss, but I sincerely believe that they eventually will be discovered for their shallow intent. Even though I may actually like my boss, I still try to keep my distance, which has led me to the thought: Is it because I do not want to be perceived as a brown-noser or is it my inate perception that a boss should be in a different league, much higher than I? I finally concluded that it must be the former when I witnessed my boss passing gas in the adjacent urinal. Damn animal, needs to find some social etiquette!

Everything I learned in life, I learned in college

If you truly think about it, you were naive, yet ecstatic, yet prepared for life when you were in school. Those formative years chasing the young nubile coeds were what life was truly about. Besides raging hormones, you were gifted with "knowing everything" and caring about nothing. No real responsibiliites to speak of; certainly no mortgage concerns, car debt, braces, etc. You had the entire future to consider and all was incredibly fun and possible. No limitations as you dreamed about learning to drive a motorcycle, skydiving, and fornicating with a million plus women. College was an opportunity to grow and transition into adulthood. No longer would you be concentrating on Power Rangers but the Texas Rangers. What is amazing to me is the sight of overaged grey haired men back on campus trying to relive those days of glory, as they mumble along the quad, thinking about what might have been. I think I actually saw a balding one driving by in his new corvette the other day.

I Just Adore a Penthouse View

Load up the wagons people, Oliver Douglas is heading to New York! Apparently he got allergic to smelling hay and is looking for Park Avenue now, baby. Please, please, please, just leave the pig, Eb and that fat Mr. whatever his name was home.

Next thing you know, he'll be movin' on up to the east side... to a de-luxe apartment in the sky. Hey, by the way, could you get me a piece of the pie?

Milestone Birthdays

No, I did not say headstone, but milestone. Amazing how we wait until we reach a milestone birthday to reflect on our achievements or rather lack there of. Think about how many people consider this the time to start jotting down skydiving, college degrees, buying a corvette, etc. when most people observing would consider that too late to truly enjoy the aforementioned activities. How many times have you seen that balding, over-aged, hawaiian print wearing corvette driver whizzing by? I think we should try to get as many accomplishments done while we truly have the capacity to enjoy them, and accept the fact that when we reach 50 that the penis enlarger just won't work.

Grab Some Bench

Since when does a baseball manager need a bench coach? Is in-game strategy so complex that the manager can't figure this stuff on his own? For 100 years, managers such as Connie Mack, John McGraw, Sparky Anderson and Lee Elia got by without the benefit of a bench coach. Of course, Lee Elia may have needed a clubhouse coach, but that's a different matter entirely.

What? I can't hear you!

Being the cool hipster that I am, you'll occasionally see me cruising the mean streets of my neighborhood wearing an iPod. Furthermore, as a music afficionado - and world traveler - I have invested in an expensive set of headphones that not only transmit the tunes directly to my ears, they also cancel out unwanted external noises. Or so they say.

The noise cancelling feature is operated by a swith on the left earpiece. I have observed that when I move the switch to the on position, the music in my ears becomes louder. Could this be the noise cancellation technology at work? A simple increase in volume to "cancel out" those harsh exterior sounds. Perhaps this technology is not all its advertised to be! Have I been had?!

Alexis Gomez

So when did the father of the Addams family get a starring role on the Tigers? What kind of name is Alexis anyway. No wonder he's had such a tough time in the major leagues. He's got a woman's name! Imagine how Brandon Inge must feel when he has to tell his wife that he's going out with Alexis after the game. What the hell kind of name is Inge anyway? Sounds like something that keeps a door swinging, not a ballplayer. Almost as bad as Neifi Perez. I mean what is that?!?! How in the world do you curse a child by naming him a "Neifi!" What were they thinking? As if, Perez dispenser is not bad enough, they have to label the poor kid with a moniker that sounds like a freaking fairy. Now don't start me on Wilfredo Ledezma. His first name sounds like a white sauce for pasta while his last name is a skin disease. Great combination. Too bad he was saddled with both and bad acne. Jamie Walker? Didn't he star in Good Times? He's just Dyno-MITE! My favorite is obviously, Kenny Rogers. Damn, he makes good chicken!

Genuine

Somewhere amongst our possessions sits a genuine Swiss Army Knife - manufactured by Victorinox. And then there's the business portfolio I carry from time to time with the Swiss Army logo; it is made by Wenger - the "manufacturer of the genuine Swiss Army Knife". In our closet we have an officially licensed Swiss Army suitcase also made by the "maker of the genuine Swiss Army Knife" - Swiss Gear.

If all these people claim to make the same thing, can there really be a genuine Swiss Army Knife? In fact, does a "neutral" country even have an army? And if there is no army, is there even a knife?

I submit that this entire Swiss Army Knife thing is a fraud. Perpetrated, I'm sure, by those same people that try to pass off the servers at Olive Garden as real Italians.

Catch a Tiger by . . .

Ok. It's late in the baseball season, and the Detroit Tigers no longer have the best record in baseball like they have all year long. That distinction now belongs to the hated New York Mets. There is the chance that this could be another subway series with dismal ratings that only a Lee Mazilli fan would enjoy. However, the season is wrapping up to be a real thrilla in Manilla as the ghost of Kirby Puckett and those surging Minnesota Twins prepare to overtake Leyland's Lions. But don't count out the Jim (Thome) Sox even though they probably stink like an old used pair of gym socks right now. I think they'll go down to the wire, and perhaps a little cheating like a dropped third strike. But then, they don't cheat in baseball, steriod boy, do they? Certainly, not on the South side of town.

Toastmasters International

I recently heard of this organization, and believe I have now heard it all. Imagine, a group dedicated to the love of toast! A global entity at that! Just imagine - we can have a Sushimasters, or a Weinermasters, or a head cheese masters, or even a Webmasters Intl! I, myself, recently joined the much heralded: Sexmaster organ-ization. Feel free to bow to me accordingly, envious folk.

They're Fake!

When I dine at a Mexican restaurant, it seems perfectly natural that the servers and busboys are Hispanic. Likewise, at the local Chinese restaurant, I have no problem believing that the staff is all Asian. Somehow, though, I'm having a hard time believing all of these waiters and waitresses at the Olive Garden are Italian.

Sure, they sound Italian. Most times they may even look Italian. But when I"m outside of the Olive Garden, I almost never run into any Italians. Hispanics and Asians are all over the place.

HIJACKED POST: Perhaps if you ate INSIDE, you would notice the Italians!

Baseball and Strategy

Whatever happened to strategy anyway? I look at the so called "strategists" in baseball today, and notice that the big league managers, like Dusty Baker, have no plan when they manage a game. Doubtful? When was the last time anyone ever executed a trick play, like the hidden ball trick? Rarely does anyone even consider stealing home. I would be happy if anyone even considers hitting behind the runner to sacrifice himself for the good of the team. Fundamentals are no longer basic. Everyone wants that next big contract or endorsement, and is in it for himself.

Now let's examine the business world. When do companies ever really carry off real long term strategy instead of pandering to Wall Street analysts. Instead of prostituting oneself, a CEO should just say, the public be damned, I'm going to do what's right for this company, and invest for the future. Perhaps, they could buy a baseball team, like the Cubs!

Chucky Baby

Little known baseball factoid: that infamous manager known far and wide as having a body far and wide, and managed the Pittsburgh Pirates to a world championship on the strength and abiltiy of Dave Parker to outrun duracells in the outfield, Chuck Tanner, is credited with having hit an Illiad, or homer, to those less educated than me, on his first pitch. What? Don't believe moi? Check out this, you mentally incompetent, imbeciles:

http://www.baseballlibrary.com/baseballlibrary/ballplayers/T/Tanner_Chuck.stm

Let those who doubt my wisdom and tenacity, cry for you mommies!

Stop! I've fallen and . . . the world keeps spinning!

Why is time going at warp speed these days? The old adage that time flies when you're having fun just doesn't ring completely true. I seem to recall the days when things would just drag on when I was in grammar school. High School in all of its charms still seemed to last forever. Somewhere between college and the REAL WORLD, I must have fallen into some kind of time warp. I occasionally feel like the arch-foe of that speedy super hero, the Flash, who was the slowest man on earth, the Turtle. (Not sure who the comic book author was, but what a dumb premise, but I digress). I still can remember Christmas like it was yesterday, and now I look up and the 4th of July is right around the corner. Now before I can savor the sound of M-80s blasting away my neighbor's mailbox, I need to go out and fertilize my lawn for the coming of leaf raking season. Before you know it, we will be tossing a few turkey drumsticks over the fence, and gearing up to bring out the artificial forest product. I think this year I'll just leave it up, right next to the Easter bunny, the 4th of July flag, and my framed picture of our Commander in Chief, John F. Kennedy.

Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence

As the school year closes, I am reminded of the number of graduation cermonies currently taking place and the increase in number of cars clogging my cities' arteries. I am sitting in my car in congested traffic wondering if they could come up with a wonder drug, like Lipitor, to clean up this mess. That's when pomp and circumstance came to mind. Just when did we ever equate pomp and circumstance with graduation? Probably the same guy who was crazy enough to first eat a lobster! I wonder if he started gnawing on a hedgehog or scorpion, and decided that lobster was more attractive. Probably a caveman version of Jackass, the movie. Now back to my original point, what is a pomp anyway? Sounds like a hooker's manager. At least, it would explain "circumstance."

Why do we mark the occasion of a graduation anyway? It's not like there won't be other challenges in life. Almost like giving a false sense of accomplishment when you realize, you've got a long way to go. .

• kissing up to the boss
• falsifying the Enron-esque statements
• serving your time
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's dog
• sleeping with the neighbors's dog of a wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife of a dog
• spending your Saturday's in AA
• pledging your assets for $0.30 on the dollar for bail
• listening to your neighbor about how he has it so bad

. . .to obtain that enriching life that you so much sought after. Of course, you could while away your time keeping your sanity talking about the good old days of innocence and graduation by spending time on a blog.

Remember: Graduation is the beginning of your life. Just imagine those deadbeats who never made it that far, like Steve Jobs.

Peace.

Door Etiquette

Since I was brought up to be somewhat of a gentleman, I will usually open and hold the door for a woman to enter a room or building. I assume the gentlemanliness of this act is derived from the principle of "ladies first". However, the act of opening the door has the added benefit of relieving the woman of the effort of moving the door. This of course raises the question in my mind - what to do with a revolving door.

If the woman precedes a man into a revolving door, the man has followed the ladies first principle to the letter. The woman, though, has then been burdened with the bulk of the effort of moving the door forward. However, should the man precede the woman into the revolving door, thus sparing her some of the effort of moving the door, he has ignored the doctrine of ladies first. So I ask you, which is more gentlemanly with regard to a revolving door: the man first or the woman first?

I posed this question to a female friend that I hold in the highest regard figuring she could provide some guidance. My question wasn't answered but I did sense that she thought psychiatric help may be in order for me. Naturally I now turn to the blogging world for answers. If only we had some readers.

Stir Fired Condoleeza Rice

Ever notice that there are some favorite (or favourite) words? I prefer "persnickety", "eucalyptus", "centrifugal" and wwho could forget the perennial favorite, "jambalaya". Go ahead, and say it, it does feel good.

One Year Anniversary!

On March 31, 2005 the first entry was posted on this blog. The impact it has had on blogdom is immeasurable - largely because the impact is something akin to none. Just the same, this should be the cause of some sort of celebration. Well, maybe celebration is too strong of a word. Perhaps an acknowledgement is in order.

Our first comment appeared almost immediately from someone who now goes by Katy. I don't know who this Katy is but she only commented once and her name has changed a time or two since then. I think Mr. Huge should post a comment on her blog just as a thank you for her input, which was as follows: "Lots of pressure, unh?".

Then there is echotig. She was a frequent commenter in the middle months of this particular publication and one who even caused MH2U to fawn all over her while commenting on her blog. For obvious reasons she has abandoned reading our blog.

There was also this guy named Monkey. He was hired and fired as a "consultant" in the span of about a week. I believe both his hiring and firing were self inflicted.

And now we are left with 2 bored authors and a readership that is non-existent. Please stay tuned to this website during year 2. We might actually post something. Or not. Who really cares anyway.

Ed Farmer's Almanac

I'm sure you've heard about the snow storm that is blanketing the east coast. This made me wonder about the farmer's almanac, and all those predictions. Years ago, presumably, Farmers would rely heavily on what was contained in the almanac. But who creates these weather predictions anyway. Just like the groundhog's shadow. Who came up with the idea in the first place? Besides, just because either predicts a cold winter or vice versa, how do they know what the weather will be in your locale? Just seems ridiculous that anyone would even refer to either one even for entertainment value. Just how entertaining is it to pick up a rodent and shake him in front of a national audience for laughs? Sorry for venting, but now I need to go see Andi Macdowell while you dream of Andy Van Slyke or is it Sam MacDowell. Happy Groundhogs day, you vermint!

Another Conundrum

Yesterday, Antonio Davis of the New York Knicks charged into the stands when he observed his wife in an argument with a neighboring fan. This has created quite a clamor on the sports radio airwaves today with the general consensus being that it was an honorable act he performed - but he should be suspended anyway. And he was, for five games. Given the circumstances, I think the suspension was a tad excessive. However, I do think he should be forced to pay full price for a game ticket ($90 where he was) and fork over $5 for that beer he snuck from the Miller Lite vendor.

Colorado, here we come

I had a rocky relationship with an old flame, but boy did she have a nice set of mountains. She asked me out for breakfast, and guess what? I had a Denver Omelette. She then asked if I wanted to get back together, and instead of Spring-ing to attention, I just responded: Boulder-dash!