Blah, Blah, Pumpkin, Blah, Blah!

Pictured above are some strange treat called "Pumpkin Dreams" or some such nonsense. They are a roundish bite sized ball that has some sort of cookie type inside and covered by a powdered sugar and spice outside. These aren't too bad. They have a lot of flavor, pumpkin and other assorted spices. The problem is that they are waaaaay too rich. One is plenty. Not like in a candy corn kind of way, but it's just that one of them is so strong that you can really only eat one and then wait a week before eating another.
3 pumpkins. Good flavor, too strong to eat more than one.

From the Book O' Stupidity, Volume 2:
Rules for Box Football
Box football was a sport that I had completely forgotten about until I read about this in the BOS. Back in High School, David and I were frequently bored and by ourselves. We liked to play football, but only having two people made it difficult to play an entertaining game, thus box football was born.
Box Football can be played in nearly any size area and the only requirements are:
1) a ball
2) a box that is larger than the ball
The offensive player had four downs to somehow get the ball into the box. Since we were terrible passers, this usually entailed running with the ball and dropping it into the box as we ran past it. Plus, once the brilliant defensive tactic known as "stand directly in front of the box" was enacted, there was a 0% chance of passing the ball into the box without getting intercepted. I'm not sure we EVER had a passing touchdown.
This game was normally played in my front yard. The box was placed on the other side of the driveway and the offensive had to move the ball from basically the middle of the yard, across the driveway, and into the box. I think we stuck socks into the back of our pants and used flag football rules instead of tackle. This was due to the fact that we spent so much time on the driveway and also because David was (and is) a big wuss.
Judging by all of the other incomplete entries in the BOS, it should come as no surprise that I never finished writing down all of the rules for box football. In fact, rule number four ends mid-sentence. At any rate, here the 4 (3 1/2?) rules I have for Box Football:
1) 1 run per possession
2) Cannot run on "shotgun"
3) On kickoff, can only go to beginning of driveway
4) If pass hits box (on fly) but does not go in, replay of down and
There you have it. With a little luck, some college will adopt this as an intramural sport and perhaps it will become an Olympic sport.
I just hope my Mom's front yard can withstand all the activity.

All hail, Samhain!

Happy Halloween! Wheeeeeee!!!!
Today's pumpkin entry is my favorite. The Jack-in-the-Box Pumpkin Pie Milkshake (not available in pubs or bars). This is fantastic. It's a thick, ice cream milkshake with pumkin flavor and topped off with whipped cream and a cherry. There really isn't much to say except that it is mad crazy pumpkin flavor. 5 pumpkins all the way. (Sorry, I don't have a picture. This is one of those things that doesn't last long enough to have it's picture taken!)
In more scary news, I recently came across one of my old High School notebooks. Back in 10th and 11th grade, I used to keep these notebooks attractively called, "Books O' Stupidity." On these wire spirally-bound lined pages, I would make notes of whatever silliness I came up with. Some of them are so goofy, I'vedecided to use them from time to time in my blog.
Today's entry deals with haunted treasure. I have no idea why I wrote these, but here are some rules for finding haunted treasure. There are four rules written in the book and a notation for a fifth, but I have no idea what the fifth was. I guess that's why I started writing them down to begin with.
Rules For Finding Haunted Treasure
1. Don't talk to anybody, especially not the ghost.
2. To dig up the haunted treasure, you must use a yellow McDonald's plastic shovel from one of the summer fun Happy Meals (preferable with Grimace on it).
3.Always look for haunted treasure in a graveyard.
4. Don't bring your dog with you because he might dig up the haunted treasure and the bark at the ghost. This is the same as talking.
5. ??????
I don't know who originally thought these up. It might have been me and or my "brother" Dave. It might have something to do with an episode of Ducktales. I just don't know.

Entry for October 12, 2006

Today's entry into the 2006 Pumpkin Taste Test is this package of Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies. These came from Target.
They looked promising. Big ol' cookies with a nice pumpkin orange color... plus chocolate. MMMMMM, right? Well, I wasn't impressed. There was very little pumpkin flavor that I could taste and the chocolate chips were almost crunchy. It helped if you heated it up in the microwave for a few seconds, but overall, just not worth it. The wife liked 'em though...
These get 1 pumpkin... low on pumpkin flavor and really disappointing.

Special message to the Texas Rangers: You want to get pitching and actually win something? Turn The Ballpark in Arlington (note: it is not "Tom Hicks personal advertising choice" Field... the taxpayers paid for it and the name should reflect that) into a dome. See, pitchers don't want to come pitch here because of the insane heat. Notice how the team usually does well until after the All-Star break? That's because it isn't 110-degrees every day yet. Houston gets to the postseason and they have pitching... because they have the ability to pitch in air-conditioning!
Of course, some people may whine about domed/roofed stadiums not being "traditional." Well, the Rangers "traditionally" suck in the heat of summer and then miss the playoffs. Which tradition is more important?

Attack of the Pumpkin Boy!

Well, it's that time of year again. Pumpkin season. MMMMMM! Every year, it seems like there are more and more entries into the "what can we make that tastes like pumpkin" corner of the kitchen.
One thing that I'm required BY LAW to do is to try any pumpkin based food that I come across (another law is that I must stop at any Stuckey's that I find). So this year, I've decided to review all of the pumpkin crap that I try. Believe me, this will give me entry material for weeks.
The first entry is made by Little Debbie. Before Debbie grew up and did Dallas, she made cheap snack cakes. Presumably she made a lot of snack cakes because I believe what you find in the store has been stored in a warehouse since Debbie originally made these things back in the 19th century.
Anyway, this year, I found these things called "Pumpkin Delights." I figured I'd pick them up because:
A) They were cheap
B) They were suprisingly not really that nutritionally bad for you
C) As I said, I'm required by law.
"Pumpkin Delights" are soft cookies supposedly shaped like pumpkins with poorly detailed jack o' lantern faces. Inside the eyes and mouth of the face is an unidentified goo that is presumably supposed to be pumpkin guts.
These were surprisingly not too bad. They didn't have a really strong pumpkin flavor (more gingerbready maybe), but they were still a cheap, tasty little snack treat. They fit nicely in a lunchsack or are a good in between meal snack when you get sick of eating Sun Chips.
3 out of 5 pumpkins. Mid range pumpkin flavor but high snackability.
And now onto something to irritate you.
I have no idea why this popped into my head the other day. I suddenly thought of this moron of a customer I had while bartending. We'll call him "Mr. Small." Mr. Small was a dumbass. I mean, textbook case. I could really go into why this is, but I'm going to focus on the specific part that popped into my head.
Mr. Small started dating this girl. A girl he would bring to the pub. A girl he would buy drinks for. He used the fact that we all knew him and thus didn't think he anything of the fact that he was buying drinks for his underage girlfriend. We found this out when he proudly brought her up one night and announced it was her 21st birthday and then claimed he didn't know.
Anyway, Mr. Small and girl broke up. Shortly thereafter, girl discovers she is pregnant with Mr. Small's moron spawn. They don't get back together, but they do decide to have the kid. After the birth, Mr. Small comes up to the pub and proudly struts around showing pictures of his kid. And boy was he proud.
And then it hits me... what the F$%# are you so proud of? You didn't really do anything that the majority of males of any species couldn't do. You didn't plan on it, you didn't actually give birth to it, you spend most of your time broke and unemployed, mooching off other people. Okay, so you made a brand new human. Wow. What an accomplishment. You had unprotected sex and made a baby! Don't see one of those everyday. Every morning while I sit in traffic, surrounded by people in cars, I think to myself, "Isn't it a shame that there are so few people. If only it were EASIER to make more of them!"
I apologise to those people who would make exceptional parents and really want kids but for some reason or another are unable. Those circumstances make Mr. Small's pride even less warranted. People who SHOULD be parents and PLAN to be parents and are RESPONSIBLE enough to be parents are unable to. Meanwhile, a guy who probably couldn't get hired at that place where all the CareerBuilder monkeys work, helps create human life by just plain being irresponsible. Yeah, that's fair.
Of course, Mr. Small isn't the only guy I've seen do this. There have been others. And most of them were just as irresponsible and just as proud. Okay, you had a kid. Congrats. Now, quit patting yourself on the back for forcing some woman to eject a bowling ball because of your carelessness and grow up. It's embarrassing when you pre-schooler is more mature than you are.

Well...

Okay. It's been a month. In that month, work has been crazy, Bergie has been to the vet a ridiculous number of times and now has been diagnosed with diabetes, I finished my summer semester (whew) and occasionally, I found time to sleep.
All that, combined with just an overall feeling of not wanting to post a blog for awhile after my last post, is why this blog has been quiet.
I don't really have much to say today. Football season has started (real football) and my stupid Gunners only managed a late draw with Aston Villa... Chelsea (bastards) we're beating Man City 2-0 at halftime... oh well.
I'm signing up for every Yahoo fantasy game there is. I like to lose in bulk apparently.
Still haven't gotten my computer up and running again. We replaced the harddrive but now we're thinking the motherboard needs to be replaced as well.
I really like Deadwood.
It's almost pumpkin season!!!!

I say, "Hey man, I haven't seen you in awhile."

I'm not really sure when I first met Wayne Erickson. My earliest memory of him was one Thursday afternoon at the local comic book shop. It was new comics day and we were browsing through the recent arrivals. I know we exchanged some idle chatter about whatever was new on the shelves that week, but it was nothing more than a friendly exchange between two people with a common interest. I'd see him at the shop from time to time, but we never clicked.

It wasn't until years later, 1995 to be exact, that we actually met each other and became friends. I had taken a job at a local Kroger grocery store. I was part of the glamourous bunch of misfits that stocked the shelves while the rest of the world slept. Wayne was a manager of frozen foods at that particular Kroger.

Wayne and I didn't hit it off right away. I recognized him from the comic store, but that didn't really jumpstart any sort of relationship other than a couple of guys who worked at the same place. Wayne was friends with some of the guys who had been there for awhile and a couple of them were friends of mine as well. Slowly, over lunch breaks and after work meals at Denny's, Wayne and I got to know each other. What really pushed us together were a few mornings where he and I were the only ones to go to breakfast and so we were forced to have one-on-one conversations.

Denny's provided many fond memories of Wayne for me. And not just me. The rest of our little clique that held court at some point or another included Clay, Dave, Junior, and Jeremy (forgive me, Randy, if I left you out... I think you joined breakfast after Wayne had left). Those were some wild breakfasts. The conversations were always fascinating and entertaining, many times they were just pure farce. The "argument" he and I had over a weedwhacker has become legendary, apparently. I don't remember the details exactly, but I was arguing that a weedwhacker couldn't be classified as a tool (I don't know how I came to that conclusion). The argument, while never leaving the realm of "all in good fun" absurdity, did come dangerously close to becoming a yelling match. It was bad enough that other patrons began listening in and finally the manager suggested we should leave.

Once, Wayne spent 20 minutes explaining to me his theory on how to make something invisible. It was very detailed and thorough and involved numerous sketches on napkins and placemats. At the end of this presentation, he paused and then said, "But then I realized it just wouldn't work." The whole thing was just hysterical (although you really had to be there). His deadpan one-liner at the end of this science lesson was hilarious. And that's how a lot of Wayne's humor was. He didn't have to hold up a bright yellow sign that said, "Here comes the funny!" He'd just hit you with some comment out of nowhere, very calmly, and then you'd lose it.

Of course, there was also Wayne being absolutely ridiculous. A running gag he started involved using his hand like a skittish, deranged sock puppet that proudly declared, "I am the sock puppet Satan! First.... you must eat of the potted meat... then.... you must drink of the sauerkraut fountain!" It was hilarious. We all would crack up... even Wayne.

I should probably explain that last part. At one point, Wayne went through a phase of wanting to try some crazy product he had never tried before. Every morning after work, he'd buy some weird food product and give it a shot. I think pickled pigs feet were in there as well as a can of potted meat. But it was the sauerkraut juice that really did him in. One morning outside the store while Dave and I were probably burning out our retinas trying to watch the sun rise, Wayne brought out a can of sauerkraut juice. I related the incident in a column I did for the TCU Daily Skiff:

"Speaking of strange tastes, did you know you can buy sauerkraut juice ready to drink in a can? I can only guess it is ready to drink because on the can, there is a picture of a sea green liquid that I assume is sauerkraut juice, in a nice looking glass. This says to me, 'Please, drink me!'

I have a friend, let's call him 'Wayne,' who once tried sauerkraut juice. He took a swig from the can, grimaced, and said, 'How can this be a marketable product?!!?' He then surprised me by downing the rest of the can all at once. Wayne then proceeded to gag, spit, curse and almost vomit. It took a long time for that taste to go away. When I later asked him why he proceeded to consume a large quantity of something he knew was akin to poison, he simply replied, 'I didn't want to waste it.'"

That was Wayne. It was pretty clear he experienced the world in his own unique way.

Eventually, Wayne and I discovered a mutual interest in wanting to make music. He played guitar, I played bass (badly) and sang (again... badly). We goofed around a few times. He played one of his originals (technically unnamed, but usually referred to as "Too Hot to Fish") and we attempted to play "Iron Man." Then we discovered another Kroger employee, Scott, who played drums and the three of us had a jam session. We thought we might be able to get something going, but it didn't really go anywhere.

But what did go somewhere was when we added my pal Ray (keyboards) and Wayne's buddy (and my former comic book supplier) Tom (horns). We worked pretty well together. Since we had no drummer, Tom, Ray, and I took turns on percussion. There was a lot of rotating in that band. Tom and I split vocals and Wayne occasionally played bass. We called ourselves "chairface" which was a) a reference to a comic book/cartoon character from the world of "The Tick" and b) a pretty stupid sexual innuedo (hence our battle cry, "Sit on it, baby!").

It was mostly fun. We played three gigs (all of them house parties, two them at my house) and did about half covers, half originals. Wayne came up with a lot of the material. Although it would be way out of line to call them classics, Wayne wrote the music and lyrics for a few of the songs including "Billy" and "...On the Highway," as well as the initial tune for "Test Page," the song where the words are directly taken from an HP laserjet printer test page. I'm not kidding.

Wayne was a really good guitarist. I don't think he believed that, but he was. And he was fun to work with and far more talented and creative than he gave himself credit for.

Wayne had some severe problems with stage fright. To get around this, he developed the onstage persona of "Anti-Social Fire Hazard." ASFH was a loud, crude creature whose primary concerns were chasing his hair, playing guitar, and writing songs for his cat. Think of a cartoonish Ozzy Osbourne. We thought the character was great and it gave Wayne a mask to hide behind allowing him to perform. Inevitably, his war cry of "Wicked Crispy!" (taken from a Long John Silver's commercial) would be heard at some point in the evening.

ASFH wasn't his only character. There was another one that would appear at times to baffle and confuse us. It was a mysterious German who was determined to prevent us from getting to an unknown assortment of chocolate confections. This one was great and so I used him in a story once. It should be noted that nearly this entire passage was inspired by Wayne. He once told me a long and confusing tale about a Military School in Skagawa, Iowa where the students guarded the Great Whale Tree. You'll just have to read the passage:

*Note: Lewis & Larry the Cow are searching for Christmas which has mysteriously disappeared. I could explain it further, but you still wouldn't understand*

"You heard me... the Great Whale Tree of Skagawa, Iowa. Seems that Christmas likes to go there every year for the annual Whale Ripening festival." explained Larry.

"Well that doesn't make any sense," said Lewis as he slowly spun around on one foot while scratching a framed photo of Peter Graves. "I mean, what the hell is a whale tree? Whales come from the ocean and certain convience stores in the south... not from trees."

"Lewis, this tree is what makes new breeds of whales. Every year the Great Whale Tree lets forth it's bountiful harvest of whales which are then trucked out to the ocean."

"Whales do not grow on trees... they are not vegetation... SHEEP are vegetation, not whales," said Mr. Know-It-All Lewis.

"Sheep are not vegetation Lewis... we've been over this before. Sheep are animals that... Oh for crying out loud! Why am I having this stupid argument with you anyway! C'mon!"

Larry grabbed Lewis by the arm and flung him into the passenger seat of Larry's Magnudarian Roadster, which convienently had been parked in Lewis' living room. He started the engine and drove off, only stopping by the kitchen on the way out for a six pack of beer and a salt lick.

And so our heroes trekked across countless deserts (3 of them) and innumerable mountain ranges (12) and an endless string of coffee shops (they really are endless... damn coffee shops) until they reach the outskirts of the meteor crater where Skagawa was located. Carefully, so as not to disturb the finely tuned road gravel, they drove into downtown Skagawa which consisted of a restaurant and a Military school.

"... and over there is the restaurant and the Military School," explained Larry as he began and ended his detailed tour of scenic Skagawa.

*A note to the readers: there weren't no Christmas 'round Skagawa either*

"USUALLY," continued Larry, in large enough print that the author realized Larry wasn't happy about being interrupted, "this place is packed with people. Strange. The people to land ratio is genreally 16 people square foot. I wonder where everybody is." Larry parked the car next to the restaurant and the two intrepid detectives removed themselves from their vehicle. They mosied over to the Great Whale Tree where they saw a young man standing motionless near, but not directly under the tree.

"Lewis, that's one of the military students. They keep watch over the tree so that nobody steals it and uses it for evil." Larry walked up to the guard and extended a hoof in greeting. "Hi! I'm Larry and this is Lewis."

"Hi... my name is 'Wayne'" responded the guard.

Hello, 'Wayne'," said Lewis, "Have you seen Christmas? It doesn't seem to have shown up this year."

"Wayne" simply stared at them and then began chasing his hair. "Damn germans!" he exclaimed suddenly, "Damn Germans and their chocolate! Der Chocolate is Verboten!" At this point, "Wayne" managed to catch his hair and began chewing it vigorously, all the time staring at Lewis.

"Um, yes, I see... but we're looking for Christmas and any help you co-"

"DER CHOCOLATE IS VERBOTEN!!!!!!!!" yelled "Wayne".

Larry grabbed Lewis by the arm and dragged him back to the car as he yelled to "Wayne", "Thanks! We appreciate your help!"

Larry once again flung Lewis into the Roadster and then immersed himself in the driver's seat.

"Larry, that guy was nuts! He had no useful information! We've wasted our time and we have no further information on the whereabouts of Christmas!" moistened Lewis.

"On the contrary," designated Larry, "He gave us a very big clue. Obviously, Christmas is involved with the German's somehow. That also explains where all the people went and why he was a raving loony. The German's have been here and have enslaved everyone by getting them addicted to their fine chocolates! Then, with no one left to resist, the Germans will simply take over the world and force everyone to watch David Hasselhoff television programs!"

"Egads," exclaimed a most horrified Lewis, "a fate worse than death! Can thier chocolate be that good?"

"Oh yes... absolutely divine. No finer chocolate has ever been produced. But, it's highly addictive and people will do nearly anything to get it. I can only hope that they don't intend on using Christmas as their means of distributing their fiendish sweets to the world. No one will be safe... every stocking will be filled with doom!"

You may have noticed that Wayne is referred to here as "Wayne," just like in the earlier newspaper column. That was a running gag for Ray and me. When I originally wrote the newpaper piece, I thought about changing his name to protect his identity. Then it occured to me that nobody knew him at TCU anyway and by adding the quotes, they'd think his name wasn't actually Wayne anyway. So, "Wayne" kind of became a separate character altogether.

One of my favorite pasttimes with Wayne was hanging out at Bentley's, drinking Dry Blackthorn Cider. He introduced me to the cider and I was hooked. We'd polish off a few big bottles in an evening and have more wild conversations. Those really were good times. Conversations with Wayne were always interesting. You never knew where they'd end up.

Sometimes, it was just going out and acting silly, though. One Halloween, Wayne, Ray and I went wandering around the streets in Wayne's mustang. At one point, we came upon a cat in a church parking lot. For no reason, Wayne ordered, "John, go get the cat." So I got out and chased the cat for a couple of minutes. I didn't catch it. So I got back in the car and we left. Why did we do that? I don't know... it was just the oddball things that we found amusing.

I'm not sure when things changed. The band kind of split up and Wayne and I didn't see each other much anymore. Wayne wasn't a "talking on the phone" kind of guy and our schedules made it difficult to hang out as much anymore. There would be long stretches where we didn't see each other.

The last time I saw Wayne, Ray and I had dropped by his apartment for something. I don't remember what it was, but the visit didn't last very long and Wayne didn't seem all that interested in chatting. We concluded our business and that was it.

The last time I spoke to Wayne was about 3 years ago when the remains of our old band (Tom had kept it going) were about to play their first gig. I called Wayne a few days before to see if he'd like to go. He was pretty uninterested in not only the concert but the phone call as well. It didn't last long and I understood that he wasn't interested in continuing our relationship at that point.

Still, despite the way he had cut himself off from everything, I held out hope that perhaps he would come around and we could be friends again. Every now and then I'd check to see if I still had his number, but I never called it. His last email address that I had no longer worked. I didn't contact him.

One of the many things on my "To Do" list is to take all of our old band tapes and condense them, clean them up, and put them on CD. I'd always held out a hope that maybe if I got that done and I sent him a copy, that he might take an interest in it and try and re-establish contact. I never did get that done.

It was rare that a week would go by that I didn't think of Wayne. Something would always occur that would make me think of him. The sauerkraut juice story has been a particular favorite of mine and I've told it often over the years.

I knew that Wayne had always been very private and he rarely let people get too close. I knew of an ex-girlfriend (before we had met) that he wasn't entirely over. His mother was sick, and he wasn't handling it well. But he never really talked about anything. He kept those wounded emotions inside and never allowed anyone else to help him ease those burdens.

I guess when his mother passed away, that's when the walls broke down and all that pent up sadness created a black hole that just sucked the last of the life out of him. He became a virtual hermit. He had little contact with anybody. These last few years are a mystery.

Still, I never thought Wayne would do anything rash. I figured he could get through anything.

So, Tuesday morning, I was absolutely shocked when I saw his obituary in the paper. I saw the picture first, then the name, and all I could do was stare. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been. Not Wayne. No way.

But it was. Wayne had apparently decided it was time to move on. July 10, 2006, at the age of 35, Wayne left his life of solitude.

I've been through the usual emotional roller coaster. I've cried, I've remembered all the good times and laughed, I've expressed some anger towards him for doing this. But for awhile, I couldn't really understand why I was so upset. I mean, I hadn't seen the guy in 6... 7 years... sure, we had been friends, but time had passed and we knew nothing about each other's recent lives.

But I know why. I rarely meet people that I truly look up to and respect... people that I find to be truly unique individuals with a keen mind and a sharp wit. Wayne was one of those people. And it hurts like hell that the hope I had of bringing him back into my life is forever crushed.

I don't know how he felt about me, but I like to think that at least at one time, he considered me a close friend. I don't know if he ever thought me these last few years and smiled, but I've definitely thought of him and smiled, sometimes even laughed, at the things we did and said.

The guilt and anger isn't strong in my head. I know there probably wasn't anything I could do, but dammit, maybe I should have tried a little harder. A phone call every few months... knock on his door... just to let him know SOMEBODY cared about him. And that's just it... there were a lot of us who cared. Even though we couldn't be a part of his daily life, we cared. And all he had to do was just to ask any of us for help or even just an ear to talk to and we would have been there for him. If he had needed somebody right then and there, we would have dropped what we were doing and gone to help.

I can understand his hurting. I can understand depression. It's not easy. And sometimes, you just think there isn't any way out. Maybe there wasn't a way out for Wayne. I don't know. But I just hope that he knows now, if he didn't then, that there are still people here who care about him and miss him terribly.

Maybe it's just selfish that I (and others) want him around still. Maybe it's selfish to think that our desire to have him here should outweigh his desire to not be here. I don't care. That's how I feel.

I don't who will read this, or if anybody actually gets this far. I'm writing this primarily for me... for a way to say what I'm feeling right now. I need to say these things to help me get through my personal grief. But I'm also writing this because I want the world to know about my friend Wayne. I don't want him to be another statistic. There needs to be a monument to Wayne so he isn't forgotten. He may have wanted to forget the world, but I'm not going to let the world forget him.

I still intend on putting that CD together, but now it has a whole new meaning. It's for his friends who want a piece of him to remember and for his family who never got to hear that side of him.

Two days from now (Friday, July 21st), I'm going to go to Bentley's and have a bottle of Dry Blackthorn and remember one of my favorite people. I'm hoping some of Wayne's other friends and family will join me for this impromptu wake. And sometime in the future, we'll have a more formally planned gathering for those who cannot make it on Friday.

I want to rap this up by explaining the title of this entry. One of the songs Wayne wrote was titled "Billy." It was a more or less fictional song about a friend that was gone and the memories of that friend. The chorus was:

Little Song about my friend Billy/He's a good ol' boy, trying to make it in the city/When I knocked on his door, he always had a smile/I say "Hey man, I haven't seen you in a while.

The past few years have caused this song to have a personal meaning for me. It's about Wayne. The words may not perfectly describe him, but the sentiment was perfect. I hadn't seen Wayne in years, but I still thought about him.

And I'll continue to think about him...

Wayne Anthony Erickson

1970-2006

Safe journey, my friend...

???????????

*Warning... what follows is basically my train of thought from this afternoon while on a break at work. When I stopped and thought about where this went, I thought it'd make a good blog, even though it goes all over the place. Add to the fact that it is now about 8 hours after said internal conversation... well... I don't know how this will turn out*
Why the hell do we make sucha big deal about birthdays? We celebrate the anniversary of our emerging from the womb (after varying amounts of "production" time). Why is it such a big deal? For the most part, it has no real bearing on anything other than we mark another (not quite accurate) full rotation of the earth around the sun since the last time we marked the same momentous occasion. Bah! Why the fascination with labelling time into some half-assed organized thing.
And that whole sun thing... what if the sun actually DOES move around the earth and the earth really IS the center of the universe... where are the aliens? The universe is huge... there have gotta be aliens somewhere, right? I mean from either the creationist or the evolutionary viewpoint it would make sense for there to be other life forms SOMEwhere in the universe, right?
Science hasn't really found any proof and it doesn't want to say there is life out there since they haven't found any evidence, but the universe is ginormous and they've barely scratched the surface... I mean, if there ISN'T life somewhere out there, then doesn't that make the sheer unbelievable randomness of our existence just all the more incredible and pointless? I mean, we'd be nothing but the biggest, stupidest longshot that Vegas couldn't even put odds on. Why would we be the only sentient creatures in the vastness of space? That's nuts. What happened here HAS to have happened (or something similiar... maybe making nitrogen based life forms or something) somewhere else.
Of course the creationists would point to this as proof that a god (specifically, THEIR god) exists and that he created all this crap because the odds of it just happening are so incredibly high that it just couldn't have happened on it's own. Yeah, well, if god made earth and the rest of the universe... well... he's pretty wasteful of resources. What good is it to create all that other crap if this stupid little mudball is the only place with anything good to watch. That's like putting an ant farm somewhere in an otherwise empty Rose Bowl. Gigantic place... nothing going on but this stupid ant farm off to the side.
Do ants think about this crap?
And what about the other creation stories? Maybe it wasn't so much intelligent design as some god ate a bad bowl of noodles and vomited the universe one afternoon. Where does THAT put us?
Logic... that's what it's all about... except that religion cannot co-exist with logic... meaning that god must be the antithesis of logic... makes sense... people always talk about his plan... but there is no logic to his plan... it's just some willy-nilly chain of events, much like 8 year olds during summer vacation. There is no logic there... if there was, things would make sense and we wouldn't have to go around saying, "Well, it's all part of God's mysterious plan." You can't play the game right if you don't know the rules and there is no way to learn the rules because the Catholics and the Protestants and the Muslims and the Jews and the Mormons and the Scientologists and the Flying Spaghetti Monster all write different rule books and none of them get along. Maybe we should just let Parker Brothers write the definitive rules of life and we'll just go by that.
What the hell am I talking about? I don't know.
*And that... is a typical 5 continuous minutes in my head*

Boom goes the hard drive

Okay, so my hard drive is dead. So I gotta get a new one. That sucks... I hope I can manage to pull off my irreplaceble stuff from the old drive. Stupid technology.
So, despite all the other things on my list of stuff to talk about, today I got irritated by a television commercial so now I'm gonna bitch about medical science.
Some show was previewing its report about people using crap they find at the bottom of the ocean to potentially cure a bunch of diseases.
Let me ask you this... if you find cures for cancer and AIDS and alzheimers and whatever else.... then what? We make it easier to have healthy children then enable that population boom to live longer lives. Where are all these people gonna live? I hope their non-cancer ridden asses are prepared to work until the new improved retirement age of 95 because nobody's gonna be able to live 40 years on the pennies they receive from social security. That's even assuming there are any jobs that people can do... the computers are gonna take away all the non-thinking manual labor jobs anyway.
Have you ever really thought about Utopia? No disease, no famine, no unhappiness, blah blah blah... what the hell do people do? How does anything get done? You can babble on about people working for the good of the community and all your socialism crap, but face it, that ain't gonna happen. Humans are inherantly competitive and require something other than a smile and a hug to make busting your ass worthwhile every day.
Off topic... anyway, the point of that last section was... does anybody really think utopia is a real possibility? I know people are stupid, but come on. You can't wipe out a disease... it just won't happen. And even if you could, what sort of ramifications would that have on the natural balance of the planet? Not that it matters. See, the thing about disease is, everytime you get close to making real progress, the itty-bitty cellular entities, like viruses, will mutate because they are far more adaptable to change than humans are. Do you think that down at the influenza library they have something as stupid as "Who Moved My Cheese?" Hell no! They've got "How to mutate into something that lives on cheese and can wipe out half of Wisconsin in three months."
Regardless of what you might think, humans are not the end all be all of existence. The planet would probably be better off if we disappeared. I think it would get along just fine without our screwing with the natural order.
Go ahead and keep using all that time, effort, and money on finding ways to make more humans live longer. That's just more people that will eventually die anyway.

Don't mess with my toot-toot

Happy belated Independence Day (aka "The day all the white trash jerks in my neighborhood ignore the fireworks ban and go ahead and blow crap up late at night which scares my dog and thus makes it difficult for me to sleep meaning that I will be tired at work the next day"... but that is too many words to use in sofa commercials). I could go into why the 4th is a pretty stupid holiday (although, nowhere near as stupid as Columbus Day), but I don't feel like griping about it this year.
Not when I can complain about SOCCER! First off, let me just say... I HATE ITALY!!!! And I'm glad France beat Portugal, although I'm a little ticked that England couldn't knock the Portugese off themselves. Rooney... I luv ya boy, but you gotta keep your mouth shut!!!!!
Anyway, Bruce Arena, the still-head coach of Team LoseSA, has yet to really take any responsibility for the debacle of this years team. Granted, it ain't ALL his fault, but it still be nice to hear him say something like, "Yeah, I just wasn't properly prepared." He did, however, blame the MLS for some of the US's shortcomings on the world's soccer stage. He claims that the MLS does not prepare our homegrown talent to play at the world class level of the teams that CAN get out of the group stages. This was the same excuse that was used when the US came in last in WC '98. Sad thing is, he's right.
Europe is where the premier players go. Of the final 8 teams in the World Cup this year, 6 of them were European countries. And the other two, Argentina & Brazil, are made up mostly of players who play for European clubs. The US has a few players around Europe, but much of the team is made up of MLS players. I don't know if US Soccer tries to keep it's best players in the states (presumably to help keep the MLS afloat), but they aren't doing anybody any favors. It should tell you something when the best players in Europe only consider coming to the MLS when they're careers are basically over. It's a big payday for them and they don't have to do much. Can't play Serie A anymore? Come play for the Red Bulls!
There are two real options here. One is to really push US players to go to Europe. Get them in the Bundesliga, the English Premier League, Serie A, Primera Liga, etc. Make them play the Beckhams, the Ronaldos, the Henrys, the Lehmanns, etc. You don't get better if you aren't challenged. Look at Freddy Adu... he's really been kind of a disappointment thus far. All he's getting is lame MLS action. His formative pro learning years, and he isn't even playing against the world's top talent!
The second option is to actually pony up the cash and start trying to lure better players to the MLS. Problem is, Europe is second only to the World Cup in terms of where players want to win. The EPL, Spanish, and Italian leagues are all highly coveted and the Champions League trophy is a career goal for any top flight player. The MLS has.... absolutely nothing to offer that is even comparable. The MLS might as well be that co-ed rec league all of us never-were's play in on Sundays. So really, this isn't an option. Meanwhile, option one would pretty much kill the MLS. So, I guess what I'm saying is, the MLS is holding us back.
Here's a solution... since the average American don't know jack about soccer anyway, why not just turn the MLS into kind of a developmental league, perhaps they could even convince FIFA or some of the leagues to develop a partnership. We develop some of our talent and then the Euro leagues can pick up some of our better players and take them over there and in the meantime, perhaps they could send some of their youth players over here to play against some of our above average but not world class players. The Euro youths could play against well-experienced players and the MLS could have an influx of potential superstars play here. Real soccer fans could see some quality football, have the chance to actually see some future stars (imagine seeing a young Beckham or Zidane playing over here for a year or two and then making it big) and our best players could actually get the experience they need. American soccer will never be viewed as top level, especially at a club level, but at least this way, it would give the country's soccer program a chance to maybe be respected (which it currently isn't). And, it would show we have an interest in wanting to be accepted into the world soccer scene by way of the world's terms instead of just being ugly Americans who demand that the world fear and respect us, even when we don't deserve it.

Entry for July 02, 2006

This is a picture of a cheap imitation plaster bust of somebody. We call it Apollo, but it actually isn't Apollo. I also believe it to not be a bust of Pallas above my chamber door, particularly since it lacks a perched Raven. Anyway, the bust of "Apollo" has been in the possession of my pal Nate. It used to be in his swanky Fort Worth Apartment/townhouse thingy surrounded by fake ivy. Of course, we made fun of him about this.
So, when 2-Tons decided to buy a house, we naturally thought it would be a fabulous idea to bury the thing in either his backyard or the foundation (as they hadn't started building the house yet). So, one afternoon, Nate, Greg (2-Tons bro-in-law) and I met up at the Irish Pub and proceeded to take some pictures. We took this one at the pub and then Nate and I went out to the house site and took more pictures. We attempted to bury it, but 2-Tons pre-historic backyard was just rocks and concrete-like dirt. After spending much time trying to dig a hole, we decided to give up because:
A) The ground was too hard
B) It was starting to rain and
C) One of the neighbors started watching us suspiciously and we were afraid the cops were gonna show up.
I don't know where the bust is now...
Anyway, I had intended on writing something else, but it's too late to get started on the things I want to write about so I figured I'd post this dopey story and picture instead.
Here are some topics I hope to write about this week:
Flag Burning
The US National soccer team, Bruce Arena, the MLS and why we suck at World Cup
Stupid Hippies (read the story)
Stupid religion twits and movie ratings (read the story)
Peace Protesters
The religious left
Oh yeah, and while I'm thinking about, if anybody around here wants to play tennis, let me know. I haven't played in years and I'm itchin' for a game.

Dang, I'm lazy

Wow... it's been a week. Let's see...
I got a job. Starting Monday, I will be a member of Nestle USA doing a supply chain/customer support thing for Nestle's Wal-Mart division. It sounds like a good gig. And it's the job I was looking for last year when I was trying to get out of the pub. Instead I found the meat heads and Rod.
But the future is looking much better now...
I posted some new pictures on the 360. Some new doggie pics, some new random pics, and pics from our trip to Vegas. Go, view, enjoy.
Currently, I'm reading "Coyote Blue" by Christopher Moore. I don't know what's up with me, but lately I've been reading fiction. Granted it's mostly Christopher Moore or Douglas Adams, but it's actually been a nice escape. Some upcoming fiction I want to read: "The Third Policeman" by Flann O'Brien, "Anything for Billy" by Larry McMurtry, "The Historian" by Elizabeth Kostova, and numerous Nick Hornby books.
If you haven't read any Christopher Moore stuff, I highly recommend him. Imagine if Stephen King had an idea and the Douglas Adams wrote the book.
So just a few hours ago, Texas executed an illegal immigrant from Mexico. Angel Maturino Resendiz, aka "The Railroad Killer", killed at least 15 people around the US back in the late 90's. Mexico, you know, our neighbors to the south, complained and demanded he be spared because he was mentally unfitto be executed. He wasn't mentally unfit to brutally rape, stab, and bludgeon to death a med student in her own home, but that's beside the point. The state found him competant, so whatever.
If Mexico is so upset, why don't they demand to have him sent back to Mexico and placed in one of their jails/mental institutions (at Mexico's expense). He was one of their citizens, here illegally. Maybe they did offer, I don't know, but I don't see that in any of the news reports. Hey Mexico, instead of acting idignant about the US "mistreating" the [ILLEGAL] Mexicans here, why don't you stop mistreating your citizens that still reside in Mexico? Then maybe they wouldn't leave Mexico and come here...
World Cup: Bruce Arena needs to go. Australia got screwed. Ronaldo ain't done yet. Ronaldinho ain't done much. Rooney needs to score. England and Germany still going. France CAN actually score goals.
My pal Ray wants to have a "Mix CD" competition. So far, it's between him and me, but we're looking for other participants. What we're looking for is a mix CD that is random as hell and yet, still flows. Basically, put your DJ skills to the test. Design the craziest mix of music that just blends together into a work of art. Anybody interested? Let me know.
A quick word to the Dallas Mavs: You guys had better be hungrier next year, that's all I got to say. Ya'll really disappointed me.
I tried to use natural fertilizer in the garden, but that didn't work. All I could ever grow was corn.

Nothing special

Well, it's day 2 of the vacation/unemployment...
Last week was a huge disappointment. Nobody at work talked to me about much of anything. I heard through HR that management had no interest in trying to come to any sort of an agreement. So, that just further reinforces my belief that leaving that rat hole was a good idea. Oh well... they can go about their business and I can go about mine.
(I tell ya though, after working there, and seeing some of poor management and questionable meat handling procedures, it makes me not want to buy ground beef from most of the local grocery stores...)
***itunes currently playing: Bad Medicine - Bon Jovi***
So the other night, we were coming home from Cousin's BBQ in Crowley and there's this car that passes us that just has my mind spinning as to what the backstory is. This car is a rental car, being driven poorly (weaving a little, crossing the solid lines) by an older woman, and it has two kitchen chairs upright in the backseat (so that you can only see the backs of the chairs through the rear window). What in the heck is going on here? A drunk woman rents a car to transport a portion of a set of kitchen furniture? Why? Well, maybe she wasn't drunk... I don't know... maybe she's a lizard person who never learned to drive...
***itunes currently playing: Why's Everybody Always Pickin' On Me?- Bloodhound Gang***
I've had a couple of job interviews already, but no confirmations one way or the other. There are a couple of other places that might call, but I don't know. I hope I get a job soon.
Dallas Mavericks: I'm going to say they'll lose. Yep. Done. Screwed it up. Why? Because that's exactly what I said when it looked like Phoenix was about to do something. I'm a pessimist. And I think they do better when I have no confidence in them.
Team USA: Ranked 5th in the world my butt. I don't know who's at fault here, but these guys seem to be pretty undisciplined and aren't working well as a team.... soooooo.... I'm thinking Bruce Arena needs to go bye-bye
***itunes currently playing: Don't Ask Me - Public Image Limited***
Well, I guess it's about time to go watch England v Sweden and go through some boxes of gargbage!

What a fascinating weekend...

Well... I haven't written in a few days. Why? Because things just got weird.
Friday morning, I get to work about midnight and check my email. I have a message sent to me by my "boss" (aka Junior Controller Rod Dugan). I had been expecting this email at some point, but it still pissed me off.
See, with my current schedule, I almost never see Rod (henceforth known as "Dumbass"). That's a problem... for Dumbass. See, he's the type of guy who is full of himself and looks to try and pass work off to those he sees as lesser employees. That way, he can spend more time micromanaging the air that he breathes and not get any real work done.
Dumbass is in his mid-late 20's (26? 27? somewhere around there), a a somewhat recent graduate of Texas Tech. He has an accounting degree. He has not passed the CPA (or even started the process) as of yet. Apparently, he started as some kind of IT guy with the company while he was in school and worked here on school breaks. When he graduated, some other stuff happened and he became one of two JUNIOR Controllers (along with Jared, the guy who hired me). Dumbass refuses to acknowledge that he is a Jr. Controller (his email sig just says Controller) despite the fact that he IS a JUNIOR Controller. Anyway, whatever.
So Dumbass goes down one of our other locations (nicknamed "The Fort") and works his Sabrina the Teenage Bitch magic down there. (Note: The Fort has been notoriously poorly run and has lost money until only recently. The turnaround started when people like Dumbass were less involved).
More exciting backstory. I entered the scene last August. Jared needed an inventory analyst (note "analyst") for the fresh ground meat division of the company (AFF) because the guy who was doing it was also in charge of inventory for the frozen patty division (TAFS) and was working about 75 hours a week and couldn't take it any more. So, we find each other.
Now, during the interview process, I was specifically told that my schedule would be coming in a 6 AM, 6 days a week, but that should be temorary, perhaps 4-5 months. Then, once some procedures had been put into place, I should be able to do 7 or 7:30, 5 days a week (with occasional Saturdays when necessary). Since a big reason I wanted to leave the pub was that the schedule sucked (tired of working nights and weekends, sometimes 6 days... want to spend more time with my wife), a day schedule was very important to me. I figured, okay, temporary... I can deal with that. So I took the job, despite some initial doubts.
It became pretty clear that the 6 days a week, coming in early thing wasn't going to change. The nature of the job prevents it. However, when they started telling me I essentially needed to be in at 4 AM to effectively get reports to them when they wanted them, we had a problem. I am not an early riser to begin with, but I'd have to go to bed by about 8 pm to get enough sleep and still get up and get to work by 4. Plus, school was starting and I had night classes in Denton. So, I decided to try some sort of compromise. I'd come in and work overnights. They could get their reports on time and I'd have a better sleep and home life.
I skipped a part of the story. About two months after I got hired, Jared (who strangely enough, we discovered, used to work with 2-Tons & Nate at some place in Arlington) quit to take a better job somewhere else. Short story for that was, Jared got his CPA and the company didn't want to give him anything. So rather than remaining stuck in a job with little chance of advancement, he left. So, the guy that was supposed to teach me what I needed to know and help me become effective just up and left.
After about a month of not really having a boss, they finally (we all knew it was likely) installed Dumbass as the JUNIOR Controller for both AFF & The Fort. Thus, he became my "boss."
It started going downhill pretty quick. He bagan making noises about how he needed "time" with me and then started giving me the stupid assignments that were accounting things and had nothing to do with our inventory. It made more sense when we had a discussion one day and he, in an attempt to throw his perceived weight around, said, "Now, what's your title? Inventory Control Clerk." I very quickly corrected him. I'm an analyst. I have nothing against clerks. They manage to keep business running because they have to do the crap work. But I'm not going to be called a clerk for the same reason you don't call a sergeant "private."
So this went on for a bit. I had a yelling match with him one day. But mostly, he'd try and make me do his crap work and I just generally ignored him. Then the schedule change came and he was surprisingly okay with it. Of course, he still wanted some "time" with me and we'd look at my schedule again later when the semester was over.
The three problems with this are:
The schedule change wasn't just about school. Production needs their reports very early and I'm not willing to go to bed an hour after my wife gets home in order to get them what they need on time.
I'm planning on being in school year round
Dumbass doesn't usually show up until 9:30 in the morning. Everybody else is here by 8, but he justifies his late entrance because he "works late." Of course, it doesn't help that he goofs off for the first 2 hours and then goes to lunch, so he never really gets any work done before mid-afternoon anyway. That, and he loves talking to people on the phone. he's one of these types that will take 5 minutes to tell you something that should take 30 seconds.
So anyway, everything is relatively okay for a few months. then as May comes (end of semester), he starts yakking about changing my schedule. He needs about 4 hours a day with me so I need to come in later and stay later. Well, do the math. I have to be in a 4 AM, he doesn't get in until 9:30, lunch at 11:30. So to have 4 hours with him, I'd be at work until 2 PM. 10 hour days? Bedtime at 8 pm? Screw dat!
So, I managed to avoid the issue for the next month. Another problem though, is that Dumbass doesn't listen to anybody who tells him something he doesn't agree with. So, when I say "I'm in school year-round AND I'm not going to come in at 4 AM because that screws up time with my wife" he pays no attention whatsoever.
Which brings us, finally, to Friday's email.
The email said "I will be in at 7:30 so we can discuss some projects and your schedule." And I went ballistic. We have one less stack of styrofoam cups in the office, by the way. I was pissed off.
So I talked to Joey later on (Joey is the TAFS inventory guy... the 75 hour a week guy). Joey sits next Dumbass so he gets to hear most of what goes on. He warned me that Dumbass was pretty adamant about me coming in early. Later, I talked to the wife and discussed it with her. It was decided that either my schedule didn't change or I was quitting.
So 7:30 rolls around. Dumbass calls me to tell me he's ready. I take another ten minutes to finish what I'm doing and finally go upstairs. On the way, I try and calm myself down. I just want to make my position known. Be firm without going nuts.
He ushers me into the conference room and shuts the doors. He motions for me to take a seat and he sits down. I remain standing, arms crossed looking down at him. He begins with blah, blah, blah schedule. I said I wasn't going to do that. It messes up my home & school life. I counter with "Why don't you come in earlier?" Dumbass says he can't do that. At this point. It's pretty obvious how this is going to end.
I ask him how vital my spending time with him is. He says very vital. So I tell him that since he's insisting that I change my schedule, then he can consider this my 2-week notice. He sits there with a smug look on his face staring at me, dead silent. The smug look is always on his face. The silence means I nailed him and that he never saw that coming.
He tries to start talking. "Now, I came here to discuss your schedule..." at which point I started yelling at him about how I wasn't going to change my schedule. There were things about how I wanted to spend more time with my wife and not him because I wasn't married to him, how I felt like the company had sold me a bill of goods with the empty promise of my desired schedule, and how I was done compromising. Somewhere in there I told him to shut up.
Then he said some stupid bull about why he needed me to ruin my life to help him out and that was it. I tore into him. I made it a point to jam "Junior Controller" down his throat, told him he was useless and lazy, how he just tries to give the work he doesnt want to do to other people, how he never gets things done on time and how all I ever hear about is how somebody is waiting for Dumbass to finish something because it's late.
He interjects that I need to stop belittling hima dn show some respect. I immediately counter with the fact that he's never done anything to earn my respect. I think I told him to shut up again and continue to smash his ivory tower to bits. Eventually, I got tired of yelling at him and told him again, this was my notice and walked out. He said something like "Fine" and came out behind me.
I went down to my office and started packing up my stuff. I called the distribution manager (who I like) and let him know what happened. The raw materials manager works in the same office as me and overheard. He wasn't happy and started talking to me about it. Then the florr manager came in and found out. Both of them we're trying to get me to rethink quitting. Just take some time over the weekened and maybe come in Monday and change your mind. I said no way. They really seemed kind of in a panic. Floyd, the overall production manager was out of the office, but I said if they wanted to call Floyd and tell him to call me, I would talk to Floyd.
Anyway, I went home. Talked to my wife for a bit until she went to work. Ate some cereal and watched some TV to try and unwind so I could go to bed. The phone rang. It was the HR director.
I had a nice conversation with her. She said dumbass had been in and she wanted to get my side of the story. I related what happened, explained why it happened, and my overall feelings on Rod and the situation. I said I probably shouldn't have acted the way I did, but I'm not apologising to him and I meant everything I said. Amazingly, she starts asking me if there was anything she or anyone else could do to convince me to stay. I was stunned, but I said that first off, I had to be assured that I would have no contact with Dumbass whatsoever. That was non-negotiable. that had to be on the table before I'd even think of coming back. She said she'd talk to some of the other manager types.
I came in Saturday morning and talked to Joey. Joey just started laughing. He said apparently I really hurt Dumbass' feelings since he just kind of sat around all afternoon looking like he'd been beaten. And, apparently, I caused quite a stir as everybody up the chain of command got involved and there were quick little meetings all morning. Floyd talked to some people and indicated that they couldn't afford to lose me.
I don't know what, if anything, will come from this. I'll be glad to tell anybody here anything they want to know. I've got plenty of opinions and observations about how this company works. As for me staying? Well, I've got some demands that I doubt they'll meet so I'm planning on being unemployed in two weeks. I'm already looking as hard as I can (so if any of you know of a job I can have, let me know).
Yep, I lived the dream. I yelled at and insulted my boss to his face and then quit. It felt good. Despite the incredible anxiety I have about not having a job, it was definitely the right thing to do.

Bits & Pieces

World Cup starts tomorrow. I'm backing England (who won't win it) and the US. Teams I throw support behind: Sweden, Netherlands, France, Germany. Teams I hate and hope they somehow manage to not make it out of the group stages: Brazil, all other South American teams, Italy, and Mexico.
I hate my job. If you have a good job, please tell me how I can get one too.
Who is James Patterson and why should I care? Is he the latest writer that the unwashed, stupid masses like to read? Sounds like it. I keep hearing this commercial with these dopey sounding people raving about "Beach Road." I think I'll pass and continue reading "Practical Demonkeeping" by Christopher Moore (highly entertaining!) and then on to "The Third Policeman" by Flann O'Brien. I don't need to read books that are super popular. My mind has a hard time equating popular with good. (See: AOL, American Idol, Larry the Cable Guy)
If you can't tell, I don't have much of importance to talk about today. But, I'm trying to make myself write everyday. Writing is something that must be done regularly, like exercise, to stay sharp. Obviously since my writings tend to be dull, I'm out of shape.
Dear President Bush,
I don't care what you are doing this very second, but stop it. Chances are, whatever you're doing is stupid, a waste of time, and possibly unconstitutional.
Sincerely,
Rotten

6/6/06

(Note: I use BCE & CE (Before the Common Era & Common Era) instead of the cult-centric BC & AD)
Well, well... it's June 6th... whoopity doo!
Some fools out there are making a big deal out of it. Why? Because the date has three 6's in it... you know... like the "Mark of the Beast" thing. Of course, these same people who try and play this up seem to conveniently ignore the fact that in even the most simplified form of the date (6/6/06) still has a zero in it.
So, what really are we looking at here? The 6th day, of the 6th month, of the 6th year... of... what? The current semi-arbitrary man-created (and incorrect based on the presumed start point) millennial point on one particular calendar? Dang. That's frightening. Surely some supernatural, cosmic event shall occur on this day because the arabic numbers (man made representations) can be manipulated to kind of resemble an identifier of a purely Christian antagonist. Hell, the number itself is debated (it has also been translated to be "616").
First of all, this date is not a universal date. Granted, most of the planet uses this calendar, at least from a business perspective, but not everybody holds this calendar to be an accurate measurement of years since the birth of Jesus. And about that... chances are, Jesus was more likely born earlier than 1 BCE (or 1 CE). A lot of evidence points to around 7-5 BCE or perhaps even after 1 CE. So, the chances are extremely high that this year is NOT 2006 (by the intended source year). In fact, there is a really good chance that we've already passed "2006".
This is much the same reason I drove people nuts with my "the year 2000 is NOT the new millennium" rant years ago. (Along with the wrong birth year of Jesus, however, 2000 ENDED the millennium and 2001 STARTED the millennium because there was no year zero).
I think if there was going to be a date with 6's in it that was going to have significance, the year 666 would have been it. But nothing happened there. So I think trying to apply wacky Christian numerology to the Gregorian calendar is pretty stupid. If evil has to really reach for the "666" thing to work, then how evil is it really? Every day is 666 days from something (August 4, 2004), every year is 666 years from something (1340 was a pretty boring year).
An what exactly are we afraid of? The actual "anti-christ" that the number supposedly represents has no real foundation in anything other than Revelation. Sure "Satan", "Lucifer", and the "Devil" are all mentioned elsewhere, but there is a debate about what these names actually represent and who they represent. Depending on where the terms are used, they probably don't even refer to the same entity. The "anti-christ" is usually described as an individual or an individual in a group, but there is nothing to attach the number to a timestamp. And it's pretty much described as something that is completely the opposite of or denies Jesus. Well, gee, that narrows it down. Sure there's a bunch of other hotly debated events in Revelation (that probably resemble a Terry Gilliam fever dream), but the point is.... it's all pointless. Nobody can accurately decipher what the f$%@ is actually going on in Revelation, every detail of it is debated, and even the beings that supposedly inspired this vision of an afternoon with Hunter S. Thompson admit that they don't seem to sure when it's gonna happen either.
So. June 6, 2006. Just another fascinating day in the progression of fascinating days. Stupid people will be born and stupid people will die. And the world goes on.
Stop wasting time worrying about the significance of numbers representing human measurement of time.
Today's Julian date is 2453892.
Today's Jewish calendar date is 10 Sivan, 5766.
Today's Islamic calendar date is 9 Jumada I-Ula 1427.
Today's Persian calendar date is 16 Khordad 1835.
For more calendar conversions, go here.

myspace sucks

Do you have a myspace page? Probably. Everybody has one. Celebrities have them, bands that are trying to get heard have them, Goths have them, stupid adolescent children have them. It's basically the AOL of personal webpages.

I have a myspace page. It's a wasteland. I have 27 "friends." Of those 27 friends, 6 are actually friends. The others:
8 bands (2 contain actual friends, 2 acquaintances. 5 bands I have actually listened to, none of them have I seen)
2 acquaintances (1 is a friend of a friend, the other is a guy who only knows me through email)
8 celebrities that don't know me from pudding
3 "Other" (a radio show, a radio station, and a comedy act)
Meanwhile, my blog has two stupid posts. The rest of it is a bunch of lists of crap I like and something that almost resembles a resume. It looks like a monkey crapped a Spencer's Gifts and flung it on a wall.

And THAT is why I hate myspace. Do you remember when you were a kid and you had your room "decorated" with all the now embarrassing pop culture merchandising? And whenever somebody new came over you dragged that person into your room to show them how much you love whatever junk you proudly displayed. That's how my room was. Posters of cars, Nolan Ryan, Star Wars, Transformers, whatever band I liked that week, Halloween decorations, Christmas lights, an oddball assortment of ticket stubs and knickknacks, comic books, a taco, the Red Spot of Death, sombreros... crap like that. My walls were covered with stuff. It would take you forever to identify it all. It was a small, poorly financed museum of teenage nerdocity.

Now, imagine all that mess smashed onto one webpage. That is your average myspace page. Too many colors, too many pictures, loud music, way too many tiny words. It makes my head hurt trying to decipher these things.

I realize that for most of these people, myspace is the only way that they can show their uniqueness to the world and at the same time, show how popular they are with their thousands of friends they have never met.

Tom, the guy who created this waste of myspace, currently has 83,070,192 friends. Before he created myspace, Tom had 3 friends, if you count his Mom (she doesn't) and his goldfish. Tom realized that he could be the most popular guy in the world if he could create something on the web that appeals to people the way American Idol appeals to people. That appeal: mindless waste of time that has little value but allows the average hillbilly or teenage girl the appearance of actually being a part of something that is popular (like voting for which hack will get be "American Idol." Don't get me started. Why aren't the Christians condemning this show for trying to get teenagers to worship idols? Whatever...).

So there. myspace sucks. If you have a myspace page and don't agree with me... whatever. You could leave a comment, but chances are, it will have poor grammar and spelling, little or no punctuation, and a lack of logic that rivals an episode of 90210.

Guess what, myspace ain't cool anymore. It's nothing but losers trying to show off and commercials for people trying to sell themselves.

If I thought anybody actually read this blog... I might feel like a hypocrite. Instead, I'm just a pathetic guy writing a blog about how much he hates myspace.

I need a porch, a rocking chair, and a shotgun....

GO AWAY!!!!

Marriage Loopholes & the rest of Vegas

Okay, before I finish my (details forgotten) vacation to Vegas, I have to bring this up.
Since I work in the middle of the night (stupid job), I listen to radio talk shows online. So, last night, I was listening to "Lovelines" through the KLLI (Live 105.3) website (Why am I plugging things that I don't get paid for?) and an odd topic came up that nobody seems to know the answer.
This woman says that she's a lesbian who is married to a man who is almost done with a sex change process. So, her husband will soon be a woman. Thus, she will be married to a woman. Now, the person is the same person who has made body modifications, so is the marriage still valid?
The man and the woman never divorced and the man didn't die. He just changed some aspects of his body and presumably changed his name. So, legally I don't think anything occurred to negate the marriage. But gay & lesbian marriage isn't legal. Soooooo..... is this a fascinating loophole or does it negate the original license? I don't know. If you know, please tell me.
Okay, continuing my violation of the "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" rule...
Monday, May 15th
We got up.
While Leigh got ready, I went to Starbucks. It's a 24-hour Starbucks. Can you stand the excitement?
We wandered around. Investigated the monorail. Decided it wasn't worth it.
Went to Siegfried & Roy's Secret Garden. There are a lot of people who know about the "Secret" Garden. I think an angry former employee must have leaked the location. Of course, I'm sure that the girl at the ticket counter gets fewer books read now that people actually come to the secret garden. Yeah, this is stupid. I'll stop.
We saw the dolphins. Dolphins are cool. I could watch dolphins all day. They are smarter than people. Period. If I could pick an animal to come back as, it'd be a dolphin.
We saw the lions & tigers & leopards & alpaca & chickens. It was warm and daytime so none of them were doing much. Big Cats are nocturnal (like me) so they lay around and sleep all day (like me). But they are still some cool animals.
Then (I think) we went to the buffet and the Mirage. It was good, but I ate too much. It was uncomfortable actually. And the desserts were kinda crappy, but everything else was damn good.
Then we headed over to some other hotel to see the penguins. But the penguins were gone. They had moved to the Dallas Zoo (go figure).
There were, however, many other interesting birds. I saw an Ibis, which is a really neat bird. And there were many cute ducks... I love ducks. And there were swans and big fish and some other birds that I don't remember now.
We saw the worst Elvis impersonator ever. He looked like Hawaiian guy on Barney Miller and was lip-synching
We wandered around looking for shoes.
Watched an idiotic animatronic mumbling show involving Bacchus at the Caesar's Palace mall. I think the pirates were better.
I'm drawing a blank for the rest of the afternoon.
Oh, wait... we went to the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum thing at the Venetian. Great paintings from Rubens and other contemporaries. It was quiet and not very crowded. Probably doesn't appeal to your average Vegas visitor. I thought it was great.
Went back to the hotel and changed clothes.
Got a cab.
Went to the Rio.
Ate dinner at an overpriced crummy hamburger place. Watched part of the Mavericks game.
Went to see Penn & Teller. It was good. I nodded off once or twice, but that was not a reflection of the show. After the show, we got autographs and pictures with Penn & Teller.
Got another cab.
Went to bed.
Tuesday, May 16th
Got up.
Got ready
Went to Starbucks. Had breakfast. Saw a drunk Italian who was trying to get water from the Starbucks girls. He didn't understand that he needed to pay for it.
Went down the other way on the Strip.
Debated about going to see another show (Either Ka or Blue Man Group). Leaning toward BMG.
Went to 9 Fine Irishmen for lunch. Had fish & chips. They were pretty good. Couldn't eat it all. Getting sick of food at this point.
Went by Excalibur. Saw Merlin in the tower. Discussed why my first thought was "I wish I had a sniper rifle. That would be an easy kill."
Rode a train thingy to whatever freakin hotel the aquarium is at. I liked the hotel but I have no idea which one it is.
Went to the aquarium. Loved it. They had a couple of crocodiles. Glass was all that separated us from the crocs. So, I got to look at the crocs from about 8 inches away. Awesome. Crocodiles (and aligators) are some of the coolest animals ever. They, like sharks, are almost perfect from an evolutionary standpoint. Millions of years with virtually no modifications.
Saw many types of fish like catfish, rays, pirahna, and numerous other tropical exotic fish. Aso saw jellyfish. Those things are weird.
There was a petting pool where you could touch some small sharks and rays. I didn't feel the need to, but I think some of the fish were actually enjoying it.
Got to the giant undersea tank. There were sawfish, sand tiger sharks, reef sharks, random fish, and the coolest sea turtle. That sea turtle was really awesome to watch. It would swim right up to the glass so you could get a good look.
Left the aquarium
Got back on the train and went to the Luxor. Went through the replica of Tut's tomb. Pretty neat. The Luxor is pretty interesting too. I think I was getting vertigo looking up at the ceiling.
Saw a guy in an Arsenal shirt.
Decided I was exhausted so we got a cab back to the Aladdin.
Went to the buffet at the Aladdin. Was so tired of eating, I was craving salad. Worst Caesar salad ever.
Watched TV and went to sleep.
Wednesday, May 17
Got up.
Got ready and packed
Checked out
Left our bags at the desk
Went to the Paris for breakfast. Very nice place and a good buffet.
Went in search of a place to watch the Arsenal v Barcelona Champions League Final
Met a guy who was also looking for the game. I can't remember his name now. He used to live in Dallas but now lives in LA. He's an acquaintance of Drew Carey and was on teh game show "Distraction." Anyway, we went to Bally's and put bets on the game (he put $60 on barcelona, I put $10 on Arsenal). Then we went back to the Paris and sat in the bar and watched the game. It was fitting to watch the game at the Paris hotel since the game was being played in Paris, France.
Had to leave midway through the second half.
Went to catch our shuttle.
Shuttle to the airport with a crazy driver.
Got to airport.
Checked in
Ate at Burger King. It cost nearly $20 for two people to eat at Burger King in the Vegas airport.
Got on the plane.
Had a terrible flight. It was bumpy. They showed a movie, but I didn't pay attention (It was Cassanova with Heath Ledger). At least there were no snakes.
Landed at DFW. Waited forever for our luggage.
Got on the shuttle to the parking spot.
Found our car.
Went home
Thus endeth the narrative.

Snakes on a plane to Vegas

Okay, before I give my vacation report, let me just say that I just watched a a trailer for "Snakes on a Plane". I will NOT be seeing that.... ever. I hate snakes. Hate 'em. and the thought of being trapped on a plane with hundred of poisonous snakes is enough to send me into cardiac arrest right now. If anybody thinks it would be fun to trick me into seeing this movie, ask yourself if it will be fun to lose an arm when I rip it from its socket during my blind panic hysterical fit.
I actually want to see it (but I WON'T) since
A) Samuel L. Jackson is the lead and nothing says over the top draction (drama + action) like SLJ
B) Kenan Thompson has a role in it and he's one of the few people in the current SNL cast that absolutely cracks me up.
C) It's called "Snakes on a Plane". The title and premise are so ridiculous! Reportedly, SoaP was the working title and they eventually changed it to Pacific Air Flight 121, but Samuel L. Jackson threatened the producers with death (well, maybe not threatened with death) if they didn't change it back to "Snakes on a Plane." He said that was the only reason he took the part!
So anyway... what was I doing.... oh yeah... vacation report.
On May 14th, my wife and I got on a plane and went to Las Vegas. We came back on May 17th. Here, as best as I can remember (a week later), is what happened.
Sunday, May 14th
Drove to the Parking Spot in Irving. Parked truck. Took shuttle to DFW airport.
Went through normal airport crap. Got Starbucks. Boarded plane.
Plane ride uneventful. Biscotti & Dr. Pepper snack. Looked out window. Saw Grand Canyon. No snakes.
Landed in Vegas. Got off plane. Headed to baggage claim. Saw giant snake, scorpion, and horned frog made out of sand-like substance. Saw many signs for people I hate (Carrot Top, Toby Kieth). Got luggage.
Took shuttle to the Aladdin hotel and casino thingy. Couldn't check in yet. Dropped off luggage at bell desk. Went to buffet downstairs. Ate like pigs. Root beer for breakfast.
Wandered around mall. Looked at stuff. Bought some weird finger manicure sets from extroverted Israeli woman.
Checked in. Were accosted by employees who tried to give us a free show and dinner inexchange for wasting two hours of our day listening to some schpiel about condos. Politely declined and ran away. Went to room.
Dropped off luggage. Looked at room. Turned on TV. Turned off TV. Went downstairs.
Saw two Arsenal fans in the casino.
Went outside. Walked along the strip. Avoided scary people trying to give us cards that led to porn. Saw fountains do a routine to Celine Dion's Titanic song. Went to the Mirage. Saw lion. Got water. Wandered around.
Took train thingy to Treasure Island. Picked up tickets for Cirque du Soleil: Mystere. Went to Ben & Jerry's. Discussed how stupid a particular group of kids was.
Saw Mystere. Mystere was cool. Highly recommended. Unfortunately, I fell asleep a couple of times when the music was soothing and there wasn't a lot of fast paced action.
Went out to see the stupidest pirate show ever. I recommend everyone go see this show. It's a bunch of stupid, unmanly pirates attempting to do battle with a group of "sirens." These sirens sing ridiculous songs and dress like Britney Spears backup dancers while enticing these idiot pirates. Long story short, pirate ship sinks, sirens win, audience feels stupid and dirty. Worst pirates ever.
Went to California Pizza Kitchen for dinner. MMmmmmmmm.... CPK....
Went back to room. Watched Desperate Housewives & Grey's Anatomy. Fell asleep.
Okay, that's enough for today. I'm sure I forgot something in there (which my wife can point out to me later). Perhaps tomorrow I'll finish this.

Fantasy Hit List

Okay, since I'm pissed off at my job (yes, again... somebody stole my lunch) and don't feel like working, I thought I'd take a moment to post my Fantasy Hit List.

This was something I thought up shortly after arriving at the Las Vegas airport recently. At the baggage carousel, I was greeted by a huge ad for Carrot Top. I hate that guy. Then I thought, gee, if I had a free pass, I'd probably shoot that guy just so I didn't have to see or hear about him anymore.

Then it turned into a list.

It's simple really. Imagine you had a gun and you had a free pass to erase 6 people (6 isn't arbitrary, by the way, I just like 6 shooters) you couldn't stand. 6 bullets, 6 less annoying people. You should really try and stay in the realm of "celebrities" and not answer things like "my boss" or "that jerk that takes up two parking spots at the Piggly Wiggly." Everybody hates those people and it's not surprising or interesting as to why you'd shoot them.
Anyway, here's mine (at least this week):

6. Carrot Top - Had I not gone to Vegas and seen his idiotic face everywhere, He might not have made the list. I don't think I need to explain why he's on this list, do I?

5. Toby Kieth - Represents everything that is wrong with today's "country" music

4. Jessica Simpson - unintelligent, unattractive, untalented, overexposed

3. Sean Hannity - Smug jackass whose idea of a perfect America is just completely WRONG

2. Barry Bonds - He makes it difficult for me to enjoy baseball

1. Larry the Cable Guy - not funny, at all. I hate all of the "Blue Collar" comedians, but this guy is the worst.

I'm thinking of turning this into my first Hellspam email. Hellspam is something I've been threatening to do for years. I'm sick of all the happy, cute, "inspiring" emails (most of which are hoaxes anyway) that people forward me so I thought about retaliating by starting to send out "evil fwds", you know, stuff that is the complete opposite of feel good or inspiring.

Scumbag arrested for torturing Mercy

http://www.operationkindness.org/AnimalSponsor/ForMercy.htm#news
21-year-old scumbag named Deshann Quatrail Brown was arrested Thursday morning for the torture that led to the death of Mercy. I hope the rest of his life is as enjoyable as Mercy's last 10 days.
Operation Kindness will be having a memorial service for Mercy (and ALL animals that died due to jerky humans) on Saturday morning. Click the link above to go to OK's Mercy page for more info on Mercy, the memorial service, and the arrest of Deshann Brown.

Gas Out!!! Stupid Morons.

Urban Legends Reference Pages: Politics (Gas Out)
(This message is for anyone who believes that if we boycott Exxon/Mobil, that the price of gas will come down.)
Dear Retards,
Once again, some moron has come with another brilliant idea to help solve the problem of soaring gas prices. Presumably, there is a cave somewhere in which a troll or some other mischevious creature, perhaps even the cast of "Jackass", sits around and comes up with asinine ideas that the ignorant masses will follow.
The fabulous "don't buy gas on such and such specific day" apparently has lost most of its supporters, either because people got bored with it or they actually had it pounded into their skulls that it wouldn't work. So, another ridiculous scheme needed to fill this particular void .
This time, the idea is that if we all band together (first flaw of any plan is EVERYBODY standing together) and not buy gas from the biggest oil company, Exxon/Mobil, then they will have to drop prices and the other companies will follow suit. It don't work that way. I'm not going to go into great detail here (please click the link at the top that will take you to Snopes and will explain the whole thing), but the basics are, Exxon won't lower it's price because people will still buy the gas. Not individual car owners, but all the OTHER gas companies that are experiencing higher demand at their pumps because the masses are still using the same amount of gas. They're just getting it from fewer places. And this foolish plan turns Exxon into yet another middleman and so the gas becomes MORE expensive.
Quick supply and demand lesson: price is based on supply and demand. If supply decreases, price goes up. If demand increases, price goes up. In the boycott scenario, all you've done is keep demand by consumers the same, increase the demand for the other gas stations, and Exxon's supply doesn't really change. The supply just goes to a different place.
People, the ONLY way to bring gas down is to lower the demand. YOU have to do that. Yes, the gas companies are evil, soulless, greedy entities but they take advantage of you because you allow it. Stop driving so fast, stop driving so much, stop buying Hummers & Excursions and other ridiculously oversized vehicles that you don't need. Don't drive to places you can walk. Buy a bicycle. If you've got public transportation, use it. Lose some weight.
It pisses me off when I see some gigantic vehicle that has one or maybe two people in it. Why do you do that? How about you only use the behemoth when you actually need it and stop sucking down gas. Yeah, mini-vans aren't cool, but neither is paying $5 a gallon for gas. If you have bought a vehicle in the last 4 years that gets less than 25 miles to a gallon, somebody needs to beat you with the learnin' stick.
I've been a big supporter of capitalism most of my life, but it requires everybody (flaw in the plan alert) to particpate if it's gonna work. Why does Starbucks charge so much money for their coffee? Because people keep buying it. Gas works the same way. Exxon made obscene profits last year. Where did that money come from? That's right, it came from YOU.
Remember if gas goes up, the cost of EVERYTHING goes up. All those freakin' trucks that haul goods across country? Gas driven. And the first thing to understand about companies is that they won't absorb the increased fuel costs, they will just pass them on to their customers, which means that you get to pay more for everything.
No poorly conceived boycott is going to get the job done. If you want to actually make a change, you have to change your lifestyle. Guess what, that Avalanche doesn't give you status except to other jackass gas guzzling jerks. Do you wanna be popular with the jerks?
Figure it out quick, people. Otherwise, you might be choosing between your house and your Excursion.

PS. Everybody should visit Snopes.com once in awhile. I finally got my mom to check this place out whenever she gets some stupid fwd message that tries to spread stupid or wrong information. Anything that comes through you inbox that purports to be fact should go through the Snopes test.

PPS. Find the MFers that tortured Mercy.

R.I.P. Mercy

The reward is now up to $11,000 by the way. (Poster from Russ Martin's myspace page).
Mercy, who died Sunday night, was a 10-month-old puppy who was found burned and stabbed Easter weekend. After a week of surgeries and care, her heart finally just gave out. Whoever did this to such a sweet dog needs to be caught and prosecuted.

People suck.

(Read Mercy's full story on the Operation Kindness site)

BACON!!!?!?!?! WHAT THE F&#$?????

Okay, I do not understand people's fascination with bacon. I love dead animal flesh as much as the next guy but I don't see the point of bacon. It's greasy and crunchy and dry and more fat than meat. And yet, it's everywhere. Not a damn day goes by that I don't see some reference to how much people love freakin' bacon! MEAT SHOULD NOT BE CRUNCHY, PEOPLE!!!!

Now Canadian bacon, nice thick pieces of meat that is tender.... mmmmm... yeah. But that crap you people love slapping on sandwiches and can't seem to get through breakfast without eating... no... no, man... that is just ridiculous.

I'm putting bacon on the list of "Things I don't understand it's popularity".... right above Paris Hilton and right below mySpace. (F*$% mySpace)


And now, another excerpt from the "Stuff" archives:

"Gosh," I said, "I'm really very silly tonight. Perhaps I should be so
bold and say that I am a downright loony."
I pondered this realization for a moment and decided it would be best if
I kept this startling revelation to myself. I had just decided that I
should, in fact, proceed with giving myself the Rorshach test using Miss
Wendell's notebook paper and the small, single serve ketchup containers
I had accumulated in my pocket from various trips to fast food
restaurants, when, all of a sudden, thanks to this incredibly long
run-on sentence that is quickly losing all semblance of a coherent
thought and is, in fact, I believe, as far from being proper in the idea
that this relates to exemplary English form as could possibly be, not
that it matters, due to my lack of vision and insufficient training in
the art of prose. This being said, my boss, Larry, approached me from
beyond the far table.
"Ghfqpowihrt," he said calmly, "Why is it that whenever I look in you
direction, you never seem to be working, but rather you do appear to be
not working. The scientific term for this is, I believe, 'goofing off'."
"Well, sir," I quickly responded, not wanting to appear as distracted
and uninterested by this blathering buffoon as I actually was, "I was
actually trying to use my subconscious to paranormally do the work for
me, thus cutting down on my personal fatigue and saving the company
money, in that I would be able to work much longer hours and not be
tired, which, I'm sure you can see, would be very beneficial to the
company and therefore, would definitely be an idea that is worth
pursuing, I think you would agree." Truthfully, I had done nothing of
the sort. This rhetoric was simply some nonsense I had seen on a
televison program the night before. But I absolutely could not tell my
boss that I was sitting there trying to decipher my own psychological
makeup using notebook paper and ketchup packets. That would be absurd. My
only hope would be that my boss would actually buy this ridiculous story
and leave me alone so that I might continue my self analysis.
"Hmmmmm," he said, "Do you realize, that you are the only person I know
who regularly talks in run-on sentences that stray from the subject
until the are just colossal jumbles of meaningless combinations of
words?"
"No sir. I did not realize that," I said.
"Aaaaaaaarrrrggghhhh!" exclaimed my superior, "You make my head hurt!"
With that he turned and walked back towards his office, beyond the far
table, where Miss Jane began that ill-fated affair with Mr. Jennings
from engineering. They never should have used that table.