Lotto, Appliances, and KFC

Hello once again loyal readers. Lots to talk about, so let's get right to it.
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Just added! This clip came to me recently and I was so moved by it, that I had to add this to the site. Follow the link below. It is a wonderful story not only for the boy involved, but for everyone else who could take part in the moment. Truly warms the heart.
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/02/23/earlyshow/main1339324.shtml?CMP=ILC-SearchStories
I suggest clicking on the video clip toward the middle-right side before even reading the article.
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Eight people claimed the winning prize in the largest lottery payout ever. 365 million, which means each gets about 15 million after taxes. I was glad to see they were just normal folks who won it. If it can't be just "regular" people who win it, then I want it to be some backwoods redneck. They always make for the best story as they go out and blow it on stupid shit. I remember hearing about that one guy in Kentucky a few years back who went out and bought a bunch of fancy cars. Like a month later he was dead broke and in trouble with the law. That's awesome! I'll bet he had a hell of a time while he still had the money.
Of course, if I won I would continue to work...that is...until they fire me. I would go to work and not tell anyone I won. I always thought it would be neat to drive my truck right through the manufacturing floor and park it in the middle of the aisle while I sat and listened to Bob and Tom and lit a cigar with a $50 bill. "Uh, Mike...you're gonna have to move your vehicle", to which I say, "Ahhh. Maybe later" I would then commandeer a big office and just move in. I'd install a sound system and a kegerator. Holding private meetings with my good friends, I would assure them that if they got fired I'd give each of them like a hundred grand or something...for their troubles.
The great thing about winning would be sharing it with everyone. I'd love to just have a limo pull up to a buddies house and say "Get in". They would say, "I have to work" or "I can't afford to fly to Vegas". But I would simply tell them that I would take care of it.
First thing I'd buy? I pair of reading glasses encrusted with rhinestones and a big medallion shaped like a dollar sign. That would be so cool.
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In case you haven't heard, we are now one of America's most important families. A package arrived in the mail the other day from the folks at Nielsen Ratings. We are a Nielson Family! I've always wanted to put my influence on the viewing habits of the rest of the nation and this is my way to do it.
They send you these "diaries" that you place at each television in your house. You simply mark down what channel and show you are watching at the time and for how long you watched it. I gotta tell you though, it's a lot of work not to mention a lot of responsibility. Also, there is that bit of guilt I have when I look back and see "Joe Joe Brown" followed by "Springer" and then several columns of "Seinfeld". Of course, I'm not just sitting there watching it and doing nothing else. I'm usually preparing an elaborate feast for my family or cleaning the dishes from the previous night's elaborate feast.
What's weird is that they send you fifteen dollars with your diaries. I mean, fifteen dollars in actual American paper money. Thought that was odd. Glad I didn't throw the package away!
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American Idol is on as we speak....er...type. My kids like to watch it but with each passing week, I get less interested in it. I hate reality shows and can only muster about 5 minutes of Survivor and others. But I do like Idol a bit because there is some real talent. Not all of it is good, but all in all somewhat entertaining.
I really enjoy it when they are in the early stages in the different cities. It's incredible how many people think they are good when, in fact, they are"horrible" (as Simon likes to say). Simon's opinions and mine are almost always the same and I love how he crushes these people's fool-hearted dreams.
It never fails though...no matter how bad they are Paula always tries to say something nice like "you've got a lot of spirit" or "I love your blouse". It'd be like me trying out for the Olympic speedskating team and posting the slowest time in history and the coaches would say "Well, I really like the shorts you're wearing" or "I admire how much managed to stuff that cucumber in your lycra shorts to enhance your 'junk' ". It's nice to hear, but you're still not making the team there Mr. Heiden.
There is an older guy in this years competition and I loved him from the minute he tried out. I later found out that the wife didn't like him at all. He's got a little southern soul in him and when he sings he moves a bit like a Ray Charles/Joe Cocker clone. It drives the wife crazy and she was waiting for him to get the boot. Anyway, before he got on stage last night, I told her that he would do well. Turns out, he did a good rendition of an Elton John song (Levon) and wifey had to swallow her pride and admit that he's pretty darn good. I hope he wins because he doesn't fit the pop star mold that they try to fill and I think he's got a cool, different voice.
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You gotta love the balls of KFC (kentucky fried chicken to me and you) for advertising the "KFC Bowl". It's a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy topped with corn and cheese. I like to call it "Colon Blowout" or "Sphincter Strainer" or something like that. How do you market that? Obviously, I'm not a big "Nutritional Info" guy (evidence by my waistline that is on par with Junior Samples) but this thing packs a wallop with 690 calories and 31 grams of fat. Make mine a double!
Even this doesn't look appetizing to me. Yes, I'd like the giant bowl of fat with extra lard and a side of bacon please.
Of course, you know the story about Kentucky Fried Chicken having to, by law, change it's name to KFC as to not include the word "chicken" in their title as they do not use actual chickens but instead, genetically engineered globules that posess chicken properties yet lack typical chicken traits such as feathers, beaks, feet, brains, etc... This is passed off as urban legend but I think it could be true.
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I recently attended "Daddy Day" at my middle daughter Sophia's pre-school. It was a lot of fun. First let me say that whatever those teachers are making is not enough. Triple it. I would have throttled a few boys and whipped the crap out of a few others. These teachers have a lot of patience and really must love their work.
For the most part though, the kids are very well behaved and it's a true joy to see them all in this setting. There were two other dads in class this day with one of them being a Sheriff. He had his uniform on with his 9mm strapped to his side (just in case things got out of hand at snack time). He was a big dude too. The best was when they took us into this room for Dance time. He and I joined in and kinda' kicked around a little on the outside of the circle o' kids. But the best was when the teacher asked us to join in, grab a couple of silk scarfs and skip around the room with the kids. He and I looked at each other like two gun fighters in the Old West. Who was gonna flinch first? But this was one battle that I didn't mind losing as I gave him that "Are you freakin' kidding me" look. I saw the relief in his eyes as he realized he wasn't going to have to be the good dad and make me out to be the bad dad as we both silently shuffled off to the side of the room eagerly awaiting an upcoming hotly contested round of Head/Shoulders/Knees and Toes (knees and toes). Should I be concerned that I was sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee after the dance segment? Perhaps some more cardio should be in my near future.
I was a huge hit with two of the Japanese girls in class. They thought I was funnier than a re-run of Hello Kitty. I once had visions of spending time with a pair of Japanese school girls, but the girls in my vision were about 20 years older than these girls and it involved a big vat of Jell-O and egg rolls. They had me in the play kitchen cooking cakes and dressing me in aprons and oven mitts. They were adorable.
It was so fun to see my daughter interact with her school friends and I can definitely see why at the end of the day when I pick her up, she falls asleep in the truck on the way home. It was a good day, but I still can't understand how those teachers do it EVERY day.
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I've been lucky enough to avoid it for some time now. I knew the call would be made to me, but I just didn't know when. I thought I was out of the woods and the question would never have to be asked of me....but I was wrong.
The phone rings last night and the most powerful man in organized baseball is on the other line. Bud Selig? No. Mike Rose...longtime friend and President of the Miami East Jr. Baseball Association. He said to me those 6 little words that make my stomach churn and the hair stand up on the back of my neck...."Do you want to coach T-Ball?" My first reaction was to say with conviction "NO!". Instead, I thought about it all day today and you know what?....my answer still is "no". It's just not something I want to do right now. Maybe later. My wife said that it would be good for me and also good for my daughter as she embarks on her maiden voyage into the National Pasttime. My daughter is somewhat timid in situations like these and me being there would definitely help. But I have given it a lot of thought and I just don't want to get into that scene yet. I'm excited to take her to practices and games and to work with her in the yard, but I am also excited to enjoy watching her. It seems that it would be difficult to coach her team and still be able to stand off and watch her grow. Perhaps it can be considered selfish on my part, but I just never envisioned myself coaching (although many others have). For one thing, and perhaps the biggest thing is "patience". I have none. While I have grown more patient through the years, I still lack the required patience to stand amongst 10 or so crazy-assed 5-6 year olds and try to teach them the beauty that is Baseball. I think I'd make a good coach but I'm certain I'd make a better Fan.
Funny story. I'll never forget watching my brothers oldest son play little league and my brother was coaching first base. I was standing nearby when his boy swings and misses for strike three. Pat looks at me and mouths the word "Splitter" referring to the only pitch that could send his son to the bench. Of course, the subtle humor of the situation lies in the fact that if you know any baseball you will know that "splitter" is short for split-finger fastball and is hard to master and throw by Major Leaguers who let 'er rip at 90 miles per hour, let alone some little first grade kid throwing 15 mph.
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My dad was recently required by his work to leave a job he was doing in sunny Florida and travel to Pinconning, Michigan which is just west of not-so-sunny Lake Huron. He wasn't happy to be leaving 80 degrees for 80 below.
Pinconning, it seems, is the self-proclaimed "cheese capital of Michigan" (as witnessed by the phrase 'cheese capital of Michigan' on every storefront). What's funny is that when dad inquired about where they made the cheese (envisioning some rustic old cheese factory on the outskirts of town) the storekeeper looked at him with a goofy look and said "We haven't made cheese in this town for over 50 years" Kinda like, Duh...sure we're the cheese capital but you don't expect us to actualy make the cheese, do you? The guy explained to dad that it's made up North somewhere to which dad asked, "Wisconsin?" Probably so.
Anyhow, dad had to purchase some of his favorite...limburger. Limburger, this is the cheese that is of a Belgian cow's milk cheese named for Limburg province in Belgium where it was first sold (thanks google!) and noted for it's very pungent smell. Pungent doesn't even begin to describe the vile assault it wages on one's olfactory devices. This very cheese once almost landed dad a one-way ticket out of Geno's Bar and Grill (site of the world famous OSU/Michigan game and other contests). You have to do a lot to get the proprietor of this place mad. Through all of my years of witnessing drunkeness and lewd behavior, not to mention the incredible display of cussing, I've never seen Geno threaten to remove a patron from his friendly confines. Yet, on this particular day, he almost had to throw someone out...and that someone was my dad. See, while others brought a bag of Doritos and threw them on the table and others carried in crockpots full of meatballs, dad thought he would contribute by bringing in a wheel of Limburger. As his steely knife first punctured the soft skin of this horrible cheese, all action stopped as everyone in the bar turned their eyes...their watery eyes... toward the source of this rank smell. Snickering at the end of the bar slowly munching away at a morsel of limburger was dad. To make a long story short (too late) Dad was able to maintain his membership in this sacred sect by removing his stench-laced cheese from the premises. Order was quickly restored and the crowd slowly returned to its debauchery and drunken revelry.
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We are currently in the middle of a search for a new refrigerator and dishwasher. The fridge made the journey with us from our old house and has served us well for our many years together. It was always there to open up and offer me it's plethora of cold drinks and chilled meats to help curb even the mightiest of appetites. But lately, it tends to make a clunking sound everytime the compressor turns on and remains quite noisy. We once thought about finally removing the menagerie of doodles and drawings supplied by our daughter's artistic endeavors until we removed a few and noticed the amount of rust beginning to show through. As luck would have it, my current garage fridge will soon be visiting that great big freon graveyard in the sky and this one will be a wonderful replacement.
The dishwasher's health is more dire. When it begins its cycle a horrific noise similar to a cross between a jet engine and a cat stuck in a fanbelt bellows from deep within this under-the-counter beast. Factor in the cold hard truth that I end up cleaning by hand nearly half of the load I just washed, then one can figure it's time for a new one.
In my typical fashion, I start going through my chronologically sorted collection of Consumer Reports (to which I subscribe) and find the articles on dishwashers and fridges as my wife calls me "Grandpa Charlie". Next, I copy the "Ratings" page of each and fold discreetly into my pocket. It's off to the store we go. Oh, we won't buy a thing tonight, my friend... but we will be looking and comparing. Suckers buy on the first time!
Most reviews point to the quality and reliability of the Sears Kenmore brand. In my opinion, they made an awfully uncomfortable jean with the "Toughskins" but boy, as their name stated, they were tough. I'd have to slide on my knees in third grade gym class a good 45 times before they'd start to wear through and mom would have to put one of those iron-on patches in them. So I figure that if they can engineer a superior, kevlar-based jean material that the folks over at Levi Strauss could only dream about then they sure as hell should be able to make a decent household appliance and possibly earn my business.
We head down the hallway to the appliance section and it's as if the place went into slow motion. The wife and I, eyes focused and determined, leading our three girls through the mist and into the dangerous wilderness of vacuum cleaners, video cameras, and big screen televisions all the while the jackals, vultures, and leeches lick their watering chops keenly waiting for their moment to pounce. If I didn't have 10 people come up to me and ask me if I needed help, I didn't have 1.
As surprising as it may sound, the night got even worse. One salesman, obviously trying to pry into our appliance buying souls, tries the old "backdoor scheme" and attempts to butter us up from the outside. He offers to our two oldest girls a piece of butterscotch candy. Ohh...you're good buddy...you're good.
But it won't work this time as I frantically flip through my photocopies to pour over the reviews. Just then I hear a "haaack....cough...bluh, bluh, bluh...haaaack". Anna's got the butterscotch stuck in her windpipe. Like Dr. Moonlight Graham in Field of Dreams, my wife pulls from our daughter's throat the candy and holds it high for all to see. I, on the other hand, was looking for a ball-point pen to insert into her trachea like I saw on M*A*S*H* one time.
The movie Madagascar was playing on a nearby plasma screen so the girls wanted to watch. We kept an eye on them as they sat down to view the movie. No more than 42 seconds later we hear on the loudspeaker "We have two lost girls. They are looking for their mother Katy". We look at each other, rolled our eyes and then moved about 2 feet to see another salesman with our teary-eyed daughters. Oldest trick in the book, buddy. I was born at night, but not last night pal!
I always love it when the sales guy, who somehow just became your best friend EVER, comes over to give you help and this time you actually need it. The best is when you say something like "why is this model more expensive than this model?" and the guy walks over to the placard, which is exactly eye level with me and that I've been staring at for the last 10 minutes and begins to read word for word what is printed. "Yeah...this one (as he guides his finger underneath the words like I do to my kindergartener as I'm trying to teach her to read)..this one has....uh 24.8 cubic feet of space and....uh...let me see here....and this one has a crisper compartment to keep vegetables fresher." I'm starting to feel my cheeks get hot. I want to pull my hair out as this guy keeps droning on and on while reading what I just read a dozen times prior to his arrival! I ask a simple "Does this come in stainless" and the guy about passes out. "Let me check!". He runs to some hidden kiosk tucked away in the back room as if he's hacking into Norad and stealing launch codes. 3 days later he returns with "uh...yeah...I think it might come in stainless" Think? Might?
Needless to say, we are still without a quiet running icebox and a dishwasher that actually washes the dishes.

All right, done rambling for tonight. Be sure to check the archives and feel free to print out some old entries to use to line your birdcage with. Also, I love the feedback so be sure to leave a comment or two.
Thanks!

Huh?

Ahh, it's quite a few days after the Super Bowl which means that my usual posts claiming my bitter hatred for the Pittsburgh Steelers have come to an end. Rejoice all ye' Steel City fans. But not yet....
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Super Bowl:
I knew it was going to be a bad night when the two people chosen to do the National Anthem were Aretha "Still Around?" Franklin and Aaron "Cotton" Neville. Don't get me wrong, they are both wonderful artists. In fact, my Aretha cd I own is one of my favorites. She does a version of "The Weight" and "The House That Jack Built" that tops anyone before or since. But Sunday Franklin and Neville sounded more like Ben Franklin and Deborah Norville. Horrible rendition. Plus, they took a proud song and made it so long that it could barely fit into a BET special.
Reminds me of a great Anthem moment. When I was playing a lot of softball in Troy there were four fields within feet of each other. Three of them were reserved for all of us bozos running around out of shape while the fourth was for the Legion Baseball team. Before the Legion games, they played a tape of the Anthem through the loudspeakers, and when they did Everyone stopped what they were doing. From the batter to the pitcher to Larry tucked away in the boonies in rightfield, everyone removed their cap and looked at the flag. It's kinda hokey, but it was always a neat moment where everyone and their differences came together for a few brief moments. Pretty cool.
Back to the Pre-game...Then they had the absurd Dr. Seuss intro. Hey, I love Dr. Seuss as much as the next guy but come on, this is the Super Bowl not Saturday morning cartoons.
But they did a neat thing by introducing all of the MVPs from every Super Bowl. However, the big news later was that Joe Montana and Terry Bradshaw didn't attend. Rumor has it the money wasn't enough. I like both of those guys and I certainly can't confirm that was the reason or not. But let's say it was...then that is a crime. Two guys who account for 8 Super Bowls between them couldn't find it in themselves to give the game, and more importantly, the fans a few minutes to revel in their past glory.
Now that the game is over I can enjoy the fact that Bettis won't be playing again (Did you know that he's from Detroit...and that is where the Super Bowl was held? Wow!) because he usually ran all over the Bengals. Also, I can probably go a couple of weeks without Joey Porter (who did nearly nothing in this game) flapping his mouth about either being robbed or trying to create a feud with an opposing tight end (who dropped about 45 passes). I can enjoy the fact that I don't have to see Little Ben wearing his hat backward at every moment. (what is it with quarterbacks? They all feel that they have to wear a hat when they're not on the field)
I read a lot of national newspapers via the internet. Each morning, I log on the computer whilst sitting in my tattered underwear and fuzzy pink slippers while enjoying a nutritious bowl of Lucky Charms (after I remove the disproportionate amount of marshmallow "charms"). I was surprised to see how many writers were a little suspicious of the referee's calls.
Colin Cowherd (espn radio) said (paraphrased) "Do I think that the NFL would deliberately engineer an sentimental win for one of the top five rushers in the history of the league ... in his hometown ... for his last game? Nah ... just a coincidence that every time the Seahawks were either scoring or going to score a yellow hanky hit the turf. The NFL wouldn't create storylines for ratings and dare I say money! I don't think that ... but the Steelers sure did ... at least they did after the Colts game when the shoe was on the other foot ... doesn't seem to be an issue now. I officially am not recognizing this championship, as far as I am concerned the Patriots are still champs and they are going for a three peat."
I kinda look at the Steelers as being like Michigan. Sure, I respect them and admire them (especially their coach) but I also have a deep seeded dislike for them. It's like the guy walking around in Meijer's grocery wearing a Michigan hat and coat. I just want to take a carrot and shove it into his inner ear and say "move north, jackass". Plus, I read where the Cowboys are the most popular team in the country and the Steelers are second and that 40-odd percent (roughly..can't remember the exact number) of their fans are women. Reason enough for me not to like them. Of course, I always bid forgiveness from three people who I know are Steelers fans and have always been with them (Dave, Eddie, Barb) and I respect your allegiance to your team. You are true fans and that's cool with me. Remember, I'm just giving you all heck...nothing personal.
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How insignificant is the NBA right now? What a boring game to watch and follow. I remember when I was younger and nearly everyone followed the game. Now, I can name about 5 people I know who watch it. I grew up in the Larry Bird (greatest player ever...don't argue it), Magic, Jordan, Barkley, Dr. J era, so maybe I'm a little spoiled. But I don't see anything like that in today's game. LeBron James is the closest thing but, while he's incredible, he can't carry the torch all by himself.
I see old highlights of Bird and remember exactly that I was sitting here/there watching whatever game it was. I remember Bird hitting the final shot to win it in the 3-point contest and holding his finger in the air as soon as he let go of it as my dad and I came to our feet. Swish!
If I could have been at any sporting event (and I've said this a lot to anyone who would listen...mostly my dog Zeke or the basement wall) that I would pick Game 5 of the 1987 NBA Finals when the Celtics were all but done when Bird swooped in from nowhere and stole the ball from Isiah and flipped it to a streaking D.J. for the basket (prompting Isiah "loser" Thomas to say that Bird would just be average if he were black....you gotta be freakin' kidding me!). I've seen the highlight a thousand times and I still get goosebumps watching it. Seeing the crowd literally erupt and hearing the call by Johnny Most's raspy voice...just priceless.
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Hope Spring Eternal. No truer words can be spoken about the upcoming baseball season. Every team has a shot in Spring Training. Even my beloved Reds are contenders in my mind and memories of their abysmal season last year are a distant thought. To me, warm weather and being outdoors is right around the corner when I hear that it's time for "pitchers and catchers to report"
We went to Florida last year and I was able to slip out and catch a Twins game. Other than the players, I was probably one of the first 20 people there. Saying that I believe in getting to games early is a serious understatement.
I heard a promo the other day on WLW with Marty doing a call of Pete sliding head first into third, Todd Benzinger (remember him??) catching the final out in 1990 World Series, etc...I get goosebumps when I hear Marty make a dramatic call. He is without a doubt the greatest announcer in the game...EVER!
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Anna had her Parent/Teacher conferences today. We met with her teacher, Mr Elifritz. I love that guy. What a wonderful person to be teaching my daughter. I was a little apprehensive when I heard a guy was going to teach my first daughter during her first venture into education. I was always used to having women teachers, especially at that age and I guess I just always envisioned a woman teaching my kids.
This guy is so energetic and smart and I truly think he "works" at his job. I only wish he could follow Anna as she continues.
He said she's doing really great and progressing very well. One of the cool things about going to a small school is that I recognize many of the kids' names. I either played ball with their fathers or know them from school, the fair or just around. It's pretty neat.
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I recently (and finally) had some excitement at my work last week. You could have seen the video on the evening news or read about it in the paper. No, I wasn't caught trying to pick up a 14 year old girl via the internet (Ha! They'll never catch me! ....kidding folks)
I've been working at an off-site warehouse facility. It's essentially two giant barns where we keep our large inventory of robots and such. It's divided down the middle and there is an office toward the front. It's probably 200 yards from front to back of each side. Last wednesday I was in the office, hard at work, when I heard a "pop". It sounded to me like a lightbulb exploded as that has happened before. But then again, there are all sorts of sounds in that place. The wind, things shifting, the dog-sized rats (no kidding)...a number of things make noise around there. So I went to the South side of the two buildings and checked things out. Nothing. I went back into the office to finish up some top secret important stuff...I was in there for about 15-20 minutes or so. I get out and head to the North side when I look up into the ceiling and notice that I can't see the lights too well. The reason? A thick layer of black smoke throughout the entire facility! I quickly started walking toward the back, trying to locate the source of the smoke when about halfway down I am face to face with a blazing inferno. Flames were shooting about 15 feet into the air as two crates of robots were on fire. After filling my pants and saying to myself "holy F'n *!#$% !!!" I dialed 911. I'd love to hear that tape! As I'm talking to the 911 person, I am running back to the front of the building to fetch a fire extinguisher. I return to unload the extinguisher into the blazing fires of hell...to no avail. I hang up the phone and try again when the overhead sprinkler system goes off raining down upon me gallons of water. I then realize that my undying love for these robots is only outweighed by my undying love for my undying self, so I ditch the extinguisher and run back to the front doors.
Needless to say, the fire department showed up. 5 trucks, some from neighboring Tipp City. They did a great job.
I spent the weekend with some other guys uncrating about 50 robots and dumping out hundreds of gallons of water that had collected inside them.
As bad as it was, it was surprising not that bad. I mean, someone could have gotten hurt and there could have been a lot more damage...but thankfully everybody was fine and the damage was relatively limited.
As hard as I tried, I could not get interviewed by any of the news channels that were on hand. Perhaps, as it was noted, that I have all of my teeth and I was not wearing a Nascar hat...that's the reason they didn't talk to me.
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Speaking of the local news, these people are out of control! The worst part is the Weather Team. They are way too serious. Listen, if a tornado is coming at my house, let me know. That's great. But I don't need you to break into my favorite television show to tell me that "it's raining really hard in Preble County!". Now they have the little scrolling ticker at the bottom. Not to mention, their little 50 county map in the lower right hand corner. They are essentially leaving my 36 inch screen with about 4 inches of actual "television show". The sportscaster has to sit on a phonebook with his neck crooked up and to his right just so he doesn't have some weather related insignia across his mug.
I always love when they give the temperatures. "It's 75 in Tipp City, 76 in Troy and 77 in Piqua". It's like "Those poor bastards in Piqua are burning up!" Just come on and say "You know what? It's about 75 across the viewing area". What, am I supposed to believe that Jerry, some crackpot in Piqua, isn't shining his Grow-Lamp onto his thermometer before he calls in just so he can be the "highest" temp on the 7 o'clock news that night?
Dennis Miller was talking about Global Warming on his latest special (speaking of weather) and he was saying that he didn't really buy the global warming thing. He said that he remembers it being "pretty hot" when he was a kid, and wonders if we should trust some people in the early part of the past century, who didn't even have indoor plumbing, to accurately lay down the statistical baseline for future generations to measure global temperatures. Something to think about, certainly.
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I don't like to talk politics too much. Mostly because I am, without a shadow of a doubt, always right. Your opinions are complete rubbish unless they concur with mine.
So a truck driver comes in and starts talking about the State of the Union address (which I did not watch). It doesn't matter what side of the fence you are on, a state of the union is pure "political rhetoric" at its finest.
He tells me that he wouldn't vote for Bush again because of him raising interest rates. After reminding him that Bush can't run for re-election because of that pesky little thing called the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution, I also pointed out to him that the President has very little to do with interest rates and that "the Fed" controls that sorta stuff. I receive a blank stare. Thinking that I have done him in, he hits me with the final shot. He says, "Well, if they let that Catalina Rice run, I'll definitely not vote". I return the blank, stone-faced stare. Catalina Rice? What they hell! Excuse me, garcon... yes, I'd like the blackened tuna with gargonzola sauce and a side of Catalina Rice. And for the little lady, she'd like the same. I'm not the smartest guy in the world but if you're stating your political views to someone and you confuse the Secretary of State with a side order for your supper, then you've immediately discredited yourself and I'm no longer listening to your rant.
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There's a new Curious George movie coming out soon and while, like my brother in law, I don't really like C. George and really never have, I've already bought the soundtrack. It is 13 songs of great music on the cd titled "Jack Johnson and Friends: Sing a longs and Lullabies for the film Curious George". It's a funky-fied album featuring guest spots by G. Love and Ben Harper and others. The music is not only cool and groove-filled, but it's something my kids LOVE and I'm sure others will too. Check it out at: http://www.jackjohnsonmusic.com/ look for the "news" and scroll down for a video to the album called "Upside Down"
Get one of his albums, you'll be a fan and want more
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The Olympics (or as my middle daughter Sophia calls them, the "Uhlimpsticks") are on and that's o.k., I guess. Unfortunately, it bumps my favorite show "The Office" for a couple of weeks (see:http://www.nbc.com/The_Office/) Again, I like the Olympics but they always start off on the wrong foot with those corny-ass Opening Ceremonies. It's like the old Orange Bowl halftime shows featuring Up With People lip-synching to really bad multi-cultural stuff. Did I see plastic cows being waddled to and fro across the ice while guys skated around with jet packs strapped to their backs? I don't get it.
The events that I like are the ski jumping, curling (that looks fun, doesn't it? It's like Horseshoes for really cold people), hockey, and speed skating. But, as I've said before, the main draw is the figure skating which somehow grounds all of the splendor of the Games as we squabble over thousandths-of-a-point because we felt the costumes weren't up to snuff on Team Latvia.
Although today I did see a picture of one of the skaters named Tanith Belbin. I don't know from what crackpot nation she's from or what she does but I would consider postponing my typical "Aw crap, this skating shit is on again" for a few minutes as I gawked wide-eyed at this lovely lady. I'd consider doing a triple lutz on her Salchow if Dick Button allows it (whatever the hell that meant)