Ridiculously inconsistent trickle of consciousness

Proof that there is something wrong with me

2012-02-01T06:32:00.000-05:00

meme/mēm/
Noun: 1.An element of a culture or behavior that may be passed from one individual to another by nongenetic means, esp. imitation.

2.An image, video, etc. that is passed electronically from one Internet user to another.

I love memes. They're my favorite source of organic, spontaneous comedy. Yesterday, I was exploring the meme involving online customer reviews when I saw something that made me laugh so hard that I was incapacitated. I mean, side-ache, unable to breathe, tears in my eyes, the whole thing. You know, that thing that happens to everyone from time to time, usually during the time around infancy to the time around age 13 or so.
I'm 47.
The bad part? I was at work.
The worse part? I couldn't stop looking at it; every time I calmed down enough to regain my composure, I had to look at it again.
The even-worse-than-that part? I doubt anyone finds it even remotely as funny as I did.
At any rate. here it is. Judge me if you must...

At least 500X more hilarious than any episode of "Whitney"

The absolute rock-bottom worst part? It still has that effect on me. I can barely type this.
I may have to get one (just the mask) for myself.

Here's a link to the sale page for the horse mask on Amazon.com. Read the reviews. For added fun, take a shot every time you see a reference to Sarah Jessica Parker.

Hateny

2012-01-30T07:05:00.000-05:00

Jeff walks into a room where Michael is sitting.

MICHAEL: Whoa, look at you! Why are you all dressed up?

JEFF: I have a date tonight.

MICHAEL: You’re kidding. Who would go out with you?

JEFF: Your sister.

And with that, we’re off on what could turn out to be a rollicking situation comedy adventure. Or it might turn out to be another tedious trudge through territory we’ve visited countless times before. But after only four lines of dialogue, we’ve met two characters, Jeff and Michael. We’ve gotten a glimpse into their relationship, although we don’t know what their relationship is; are they co-workers? Friends? Siblings (ew)? We’ve established a source of conflict that the characters will have to resolve. We’ve even gotten our first “joke”. As you can see, it’s a format that’s very easy to navigate for the lazy writer. It’s a format that unfortunately spews forth things like “Whitney”.

Before we go any further, I feel like I need to state that not all sitcoms are garbage. This same genre also gave us “Cheers”, “Seinfeld”, “Taxi” and literally too many truly great shows to mention. This might be an overly obvious statement but I think that not making it puts this little rant at risk of being seen as yet another pretentious, highbrow, already-done-to death screed against television.

Even more important, let me state that over the last year or so, I have made a conscious effort to cut down on “hating” stuff that other people might enjoy. That’s because I realized it takes a special kind of judgmental, arrogant jerk to intentionally piss all over the source of another individual’s happiness and I’m a bad enough person as it is that I don’t need to add that element to the stew. Here’s a link to an excellent article at Cracked.com that does a good job of illustrating what I’m talking about. I came to this realization after something I wrote here resulted in an uncharacteristically bitter exchange between me and a friend that I still feel bad about, even though those fences have long-since been mended. Who needs that? It’s taken a long time to get to the point where I accept that an individual’s tastes are subjective and are no indication of superiority or inferiority. And while I still use this place to criticize and condemn things I don’t like, and probably always will, I try to do so in a rational, civil manner, offering thought-out reasons for feeling the way I do and never with the primary intent of hurting anyone’s feelings.

All of this is to say that in spite of everything, I hate the show “Whitney” and I don’t care whose feelings are hurt. If you like it, I’m sorry…and I mean that sincerely; I really am…but you like a shitty tv show. It doesn’t make me feel good to say that.

What’s worse than me hating it is that I like to hate it. I’d miss it if were to be cancelled. I don’t have a chance to see it every week, but when I do, I sit down and watch it from start to finish. And I hate every single second of it. That can’t be healthy, can it? I wouldn’t think so, but man oh man it feels sooooo good.

"Whitney" is a situation comedy about a woman and her boyfriend as they navigate the wacky world of modern relationships. They love each other and live together but they don't want to get married. I told you it was wacky! Here's some highlights for a recent episode, which is exactly like every other episode.

Here's the boyfriend and Whitney at a bar. I think she's wincing in anticipation of all the groans she's about to induce.

"Whine, whine, moan, moan, men and women are so different"

"Are those my tights?" (this is the actual 'joke' being delivered here)

Ha ha! What a funny dress! Ha ha! What funny socks!

These are two other characters. I don't know their names. In this scene, they've just learned that they do not have sexually transmitted diseases. Seriously.

"I need to learn to shut up some times" (Actual dialogue, spoken about 15 minutes too late)

Fantasy dream sequence...more like a nightmare, because she doesn't want to get married because that wouldn't be wacky.

Dealing with difficult questions for fun and profit

2012-01-27T06:20:00.000-05:00

Nobody ever said your existential crisis couldn't be entertaining to others.

Dicks can't drive

2012-01-25T06:43:00.000-05:00

It's no secret that Florida has some people that don't drive very well. But even if you're not good at something, you can still be nice. But when rudimentary skill and basic courtesy are both absent, you get situations like these two Dicks I encountered yesterday...

SITUATION #1: The Dick at the Gas Station

FIGURE 1: Here we see the pumps at a local gas station (the black boxes are cars). As you can see, the are two pumps available on the right.

FIGURE 2: Here we see how the first driver to arrive could pull forward to the furthest pump, allowing another driver to come in and behind and have access to the second pump. A somewhat careless motorist might stop at the first pump they come to. Not ideal but the second pump would still be accessible. So take a guess where Dick stopped.

FIGURE 3: Yep. Right there. Why, Dick? Why can't I have gas for my car too?

SITUATION #2: The Dick in the Right-Hand Lane

FIGURE 1: Here I am, on my way home. I've indicated that I intend to turn right at the next intersection, where the traffic light is currently green. It's okay if it should change before I get there though, because I can legally turn right on red. Yay, I'm happy because I'm almost home!

FIGURE 2: As the light turns from green to yellow, a motorist in the lane to my left indicates that he'd like to get in my lane. Hey, I wonder if this driver is turning right at the light too? Maybe we're neighbors. Howdy, neighbor!

FIGURE 3: Nope. They're going straight. Which they could have done in the lane they were already in. But by getting in front of me, I'm stuck there...for no good reason whatsoever...until the light turns green again. Not a neighbor, just some Dick.

Almost human

2012-01-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

"Squeeeeee!"

I've come to the conclusion that the people in McDonald's commercials are too strange to be...people.
They're close. They look like people. They sound like people. They sort of act like people, but something there is skewed. Of course, they're amped up, way more excited about eating McDonald's than anybody should...or would...ever be. But that's something you see in almost any commercial; it's not like going to Best Buy is that exciting either.
No, It's more in the way that they try to do and say things that real people do but they just can't seem to get it quite right. They're people the way captchas are words. Those little nonsensical blurbs that some web sites make you type to verify the fact that you're an actual human being (!) have all the elements of words...but they're just made-up gibberish.

Good luck trying to play that in "Words With Friends"

A perfect example is an ad for Chicken McNuggets I keep hearing on the radio (a quick aside: at this point, for McDonald's to keep referring to those things as chicken is equal parts admirable and infuriating). It goes like this (I don't have the exact script so I'm going to paraphrase slightly, but this is damn close):

MALE: Gyuuurrrrm (This is supposed to sound like an airplane [that will make sense in a second]. If you're ever on an airplane that spunds like this, it either has a serious mechanical problem or Helen Keller is giving the pre-flight briefing. Either way, get off that plane immediately.)
FEMALE: What are you doing?
MALE: I'm playing McDonald's Airport (See above).
FEMALE: What?
MALE: McDonald's Airport. See, I can't decide which sauce to dunk them in so each one is going to a different destination.
FEMALE: Wow. This is actually happening!

No. No, it isn't. It isn't happening because it would never happen.
The MALE can't figure out what kind of sauce best complements his processed chicken-esque lumps, because they're all so delicious, that he can't choose one, so he doesn't choose one, instead deciding to play a game of Airport...because he thinks this is how airports work. Like people go to the airport, hop on the first plane they come across and fly it to wherever it ends up.

"So I guess I work in...I don't know...Tucson, maybe?"

The FEMALE's response to this isn't something a human being would say either, such as, "have you suffered a massive head trauma?" or "how many of those things have you eaten?" No, it's something that's supposed to sound detached/snarky-slangy/ironic because that's what the humans are doing these days, right?

Exactly.

This conversation as scripted would never, ever take place between two upright-walking sentient beings capable of expressing themselves vocally. This is proof that these are not humans. They sort of recognize what human behavior is but are unable to replicate it themselves.
I don't know about you but these are not the beings I want handling my nuggets.

Mascot misadventures!

2012-01-20T06:36:00.000-05:00

(Attention, all not-interested-in-sports readers: This is amusing. Trust me.)
Long-time, attention-paying visitors to this site may recall that I have something of a history in the ol' professional sports mascot biz. I don't do that anymore (one of the few jobs I don't currently have) but it still picques my interest when something noteworthy involving these lovable furry anarchists comes across the newswires. The other day, something happened right here in Tampa.
Our hockey team's mascot is known as ThunderBug. We're the Lightning, he's a bug...get it? Well, the other night he was spreading his special brand of merriment around the arena and hit a fan of the visiting team with some silly string. The fan got upset, shoved T-Bug (from behind) and was ejected.
Here are a couple of things you need to know about this situation:

Here in Tampa, everybody is from somewhere else. This means a lot of people who attend sporting events root for the visiting team. Some of these people...not all of them; really a very small minority, when it comes right down to it...are a royal pain in the ass from a trouble making standpoint.
Since there's video (check it out below!), this is a relatively big deal. And many people who are weighing in with commentary say TB deserved it and worse, that assault charges should be filed (against the mascot, not the fan). These people are also a pain in the ass. Plus stupid.
Silly.
String.

Nothing about those last two words as presented are threatening in any way shape or form. We're not talking about some weaponized form of bio-hazard silly string loaded into missles to be fired into a children's hospital from an attack helicopter.

The stuff of nightmares: hilarious, giggle-inducing, horrifying nightmares

Silly.

String.

Say the words aloud yourself and try to sound menacing. I dare you. It's an impossible task. But this guy was ready to go to battle, with a living cartoon character, over being stringed silly.
The only thing I can imagine going through the minds of those who see this as some sort of assault is that they watched that video with the assumption that ThunderBug suddenly appeared at this location with the sole intent of attacking this one man, as though the participants and location didn't exist in time nor space until the person who shot the video pressed "record".
Being someone who has worked in the industry, specifically with mascots, and as someone who understands that events and their participants don't just spontaneously occur, I'm pretty sure that ThunderBug was in that section of seats, spraying people with silly string (the can is already present), when Boston Fan saw what was happeneing and started mouthing off (you can see him in mid-mouthing when the video begins), probably something along the lines of, "Hey, you! Don't even think about coming up here and spraying me and my really dumb t-shirt with that silly string! I'm serious, man. Don't you do it! You'll be sorry! I will give you such a shove! So do not...DO NOT...come up here and spray me with that!" This, as any of us who grew up in a neighborhood where there was a mean dog knows, is what's called "asking for it". Think about it: why else would anybody even record it if they didn't think something might happen. Watch it and see if you don't agree...

I guess this guy felt he needed to take a stand. Well, good for him. If he ever winds up in jail, all he has to do is tell the other inmates about the time he went nose-to-nose with somebody wearing an enormous fuzzy insect head without backing down, even with little bitty pieces of pink and green string on him, and nobody will mess with him!

Christmas Is Over, If You Want It (and even if you don't)

2012-01-18T07:08:00.000-05:00

"Fresh" donuts, purchased January 15, 2012

Dear merchant,
You know, there comes a time, usually less than a week after the last college football bowl game has been played and all the people who don't have some sort of disorder have stored their seasonal decorations, when you have to accept that the holidays are over and that folks simply don't want some of the merchandise in your inventory. Write it off, suck it up and move on, please. I'm looking at you, Dunkin' Donuts located at 7004 North Dale Mabry Highway in Tampa, Florida.

PS: I still love you.

Much ado about Tebow

2012-01-16T06:38:00.000-05:00

When it comes to Tim Tebow, you either love him or you hate him. Unless you're like me and largely ambivalent about the whole situation and the kind of person who blows up the premise he set up with his first sentence by contradicting it with his second.
I'm probably more pro than con, though. I wouldn't say I'm a fan in that I don't have a rooting interest in any team he's ever played for but I certainly don't wish him any ill will. He seems like a nice enough guy. And heaven knows I find all the ruckus around him entertaining.

This is what some of you look like when you talk about Tim Tebow, and you need to know that about yourselves.

I'm not questioning anybody's right to like or not like something or somebody. I don't do that anymore. Hey, if that's what you enjoy, have at it. What I don't understand is why those who don't like him have such a nasty, vitriolic edge that seems to go well beyond criticism of his abilities and even rooting interests. His critics say he's not a good quarterback in that he isn't technically proficient. They'll tell you they don't like Tebow because he's overhyped and not that good. Since when do we care about that? Do you expect me to believe that after 83 billion McDonald's hamburgers served, 11 years of American Idol and "Whitney" being renewed for a second season, we're suddenly going to draw the line of good taste? At Tim Tebow? Just file this one under Yet More Things I Just Don't Understand.

"Me neither"

This is a particularly annoying co-worker telling me (unsolicited) about his disdain for Tim Tebow:
Co -worker: You wanna know why I hate Tim Tebow?
Me: Oh, more than anything.
Co-worker: Because the media talks about him constantly.
Me: So do you, but I hate you for that, not him.
Co-worker: You hate me because I don't like Tebow?
Me: I'm just kidding. I hate you for other reasons. Lots of 'em.
Co-worker: That's a really, really horrible thing to say about someone. I've never done anything to you.
Me: Has Tim Tebow ever done anyything to you?
Co-worker: That's completely different.
Me: How? How exactly is it different?
Co-worker: Because Tebow SUCKS!
Me: If you were in my position, you'd see that it really isn't different at all.

Take that, criminals!

2012-01-13T06:46:00.000-05:00

(Judge Gregory) Holder asked how many of the jurors would volunteer to serve on juries again.

They all raised their hands.
"I guarantee you you will be summoned," he said. - TBO.com, November 4, 2011

Never let it be said that Judge Holder is not a man of his word.
Less than 90 days after this little misadventure, I found myself sitting in a waiting room on the second floor of the George E. Edgecomb Courthouse at 800 Twiggs in downtown Tampa, thumbing through copies of Bassmaster and American Baby magazines (did you know that when babies are learning to crawl, it's not important if they show a natural inclination to go backward instead of forward?), waiting for my name to be called. A large group was called almost immediately and then a really long period passed before any other announcements were made, and I found myself struggling to stay awake and semi-lucid at 10 a.m. (did you know that Mike McClelland's lure of choice is a 1/2-ounce Screaming Eagle spinnerbait with tandem willowleaf blades?). In addition to worrying about what would happen if I fell asleep and missed my name being called, I started worrying about not being called at all. Wasting an entire day sitting around a courthouse doing nothing when I could be A) making money or B) sitting around my apartment doing nothing was not an appealing prospect. Hey, I'm here; let's do some justice (did you know that feeding right before bed time inhibits a baby's ability to fall asleep but about an hour before bed time, a snack of warm milk or sliced bananas, jigging spoons, jig-and-pigs or craws, crankbaits, and finesse baits yield good results in winter months, when they tend to be more slow moving? I told you I was a little loopy and having trouble staying awake at this point).
Around 11, I was called as part of a group of 36 people. We were led to a courtroom on the 5th floor and began the voir dire process, which I believe is Latin for "audition". This consisted of the lawyers asking us personal questions about our opinions on things that may pertain to the case and even our own criminal histories. Answering incorrectly, or too correctly, could get you booted and sent back to the waiting room.
"Do I know anyone who works in law enforcement? Sure, but I don't like them...not that I dislike cops. I do! I mean, they're okay. I'm not a fanatic about it or anything. I'm not a fanatic about anything really. I'm pretty normal. This is what a normal person would say, right? Maybe I should shut up now. What was the question?"
I felt a sense of accomplishment when my name was read as one of the eight that would be retained to preside over the trial. "Ha ha! I beat you suckers", I said in my mind to the 28 losers who filed out, done for the day and free to do whatever they wanted the next...wait. Maybe I didn't really win. Oh well, it felt nice to be wanted.
"What? You want to spend time with me? You actually want me here? On purpose? You chose me over other people? And you want me to come back tomorrow? Okay, yes. I am in love with you for ever and ever too."
"Yes sir, we validate parking."
"Oh...okay. Thanks."

I left and came back bright and early (8:30) the next morning. The judge gave us instructions, very specifically mentioning more than once that Tweeting or blogging details of the proceedings was strictly forbidden. I can certainly see where this would be a thoroughly post-modern problem and something that could be difficult-but-necessary to keep under control, given the population's predilection to share details of their daily experience and how that could negatively impact efforts to conduct a fair hearing. But I felt like he was talking directly to me every time he brought it up.
The trial began, two dudes accused of felony accounts of aggravated battery with intent to cause great bodily harm. We listened to testimony, took a break, more testimony, lunch, testimony and closing arguments. By 3:30, we were in the jury room, getting ready to deliberate.
I don't know what it is about certain situations and venues that makes apparently repressed, attention-starved adults suddenly decide to act out. You see it a lot at panel discussions and seminars, where one person decides they're smarter or more interesting than the speaker and now it's showtime. In jury rooms, at least in my limited experience, suddenly everybody is the illegitimate love child of Henry Fonda in "12 Angry Men" and Angela Lansbury in "Murder She Wrote" and Atticus Finch can sit down, shut the hell up and learn a thing or two.
"I wonder why the cops didn't..."
"These charges don't really seem to apply..."
"I'm not even sure they proved that these guys were even there!"
Luckily for me and the taxpayers of Hillsborough County, I studied at the feet for years of someone who was an absolute master of keeping meetings on track against all odds and personality quirks (she knows who she is) and even though I wasn't the official Foreman (I should have been!), I was able to subversively steer things in the right direction. Not influencing anyone's opinions about the facts of the case, mind you. That would be morally wrong. Just to keep people focused and on point. We weren't there to talk about our feelings, inherent flaws in the judicial system or detective theories that would make Sherlock Holmes take a Xanax and get in bed for three days. We were there to decide if two guys were guilty based on the evidence that was presented to us. That means if 1 + 1 + X = 3, it's not beyond a reasonable doubt for us to determine that 1 = X (this is the entirety of my understanding of algebra, by the way). I'm sorry, Dr. Kimball; there is no one-armed man. After very little debate over the nest 45 minutes or so, we returned unanimous verdicts of GUILTY in both cases.
I'm able to blog about this now because since the case is over (aside from the sentencing, with which I have no involvement whatsoever), the judge said we could talk about any and all of it to anybody we want. Which means I could tell you the names of the defendants and the nature of the crimes in full detail...but I'm not going to*. And the reason for that is I don't feel completely sure that their friends and ~~gang~~ family members won't track me down to chat about it if I call too much attention to it. A bailiff told us after the fact that we had done well to find them guilty because these were seriously bad dudes that need to be off the street. He wasn't kidding. I checked out their history (after the trial) and it was...extensive. One of them is facing another trial soon for shooting a woman and putting her in a wheelchair. So there's that. Apparently, I'm not just being paranoid because when we were excused, we were escorted through a series of hallways to an elevator that dropped us in an alley behind the courthouse, so we didn't have to go through the courthouse lobby and past any ~~gang~~ family members. This makes me glad in retrospect that I didn't make any victory gestures toward them when the verdicts were being read, like grinning and mouthing the words, "yeah, I hope you like wearing orange and drinking toilet wine for the next 20 years, assholes", while subtlely flipping them off, because I really, really wanted to. How often do you get the opportunity to flash an obscene gesture to someone who truly deserves it and they can't do anything about it without a gaggle of deputies putting them in a chokehold?

I know, I know; the courts and jails are a mess and it's entirely possible...maybe even likely...that they'll be out on the street again well before their sentences actually end. But I know that I had a part in keeping them out of circulation for a little while, and if that prevents even one person from being the victim of a crime they would have committed, then that's something I can feel good about.
Criminals can kiss my ass.

* if you really want to know, message me directly and I'll tell you all about it privately.

Justice is now being served

2012-01-11T06:35:00.000-05:00

This blog is on temporary hiatus as I have spent the last two very long days performing my civic duty by participating in the great American justice system as a member of a jury. Click here to see what happened the last time this was supposed to happen (all I can say is thank goodness the mailman figured it out this time).
New fart jokes here on Friday...probably.

Cutting edge, topical political humor!

2012-01-09T06:35:00.000-05:00

When he's in Tampa, this is where Dan Quayle eats.

That's no es nice

2012-01-06T07:11:00.000-05:00

Hey Spanish-speaking people;

I sincerely respect and appreciate your culture and heritage and personally, I find your native language beautiful. I wish I could speak it myself but I can not. Although, having lived here in Tampa as long as I have, I have been able to pick up some things...

...and this isn't nice, guys.

Sure, nobody ever wants to give birth to a two-headed baby that grows up to be lawyers. So technically, I guess it's correct; but there has to be a more delicate way to refer to an unfortunate circumstance like that than this.

The mark of true professionalism!

2012-01-04T06:26:00.000-05:00

This is the latest handbill to find itself stuck on my front door:

Gee, I don't know; my taxes aren't very complicated at all. I don't know if I need a professional service to do them. Plus, I've really never heard of your firm...Wait a minute, what's that say in the two-star blue banner?

Oh shit! AS SEEN ON YARD SIGN? Well hell, why didn't you say so in the first place?!? After all, every one of my household conveniences are AS SEEN ON TV, I'm constantly on the lookout for fugitives AS SEEN ON WANTED POSTERS and I was introduced to my pet sitter from AS SEEN ON FLYER IN LAUNDRY ROOM WITH LITTLE TEAR-OFF PHONE NUMBERS CUT AS FRINGE ALONG THE BOTTOM. Who else would I hire to do my taxes besides somebody AS SEEN ON A PIECE OF CORRUGATED PLASTIC ON A STICK SHOVED INTO THE GROUND BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD?

2011, The most extremiest year of extremes yet!

2012-01-02T06:31:00.000-05:00

Some things about this past year were really great while other things really sucked. That makes 2011 truly unique, just like every other year ever. However, I'm not going to waste anyone's time with yet another year-in-review list. That's because, unlike past years, I think everything can be summed up with two names: Charlie Sheen and Tim Tebow.
As we race headlong toward more and more radical extremes (We are the lunatic fringe because, guess what? It's ALL fringe!) there aren't two more perfect individuals to symbolize who we are and what we stand for. Like Batman and the Joker, Tim and Charlie would appear to be polar opposites, yet they do share some common ground.
In Charlie, we have the embodiment of the reckless and nihilistic pursuit of fame and self satisfaction whose every antic is documented.
In Tim, we have the throwback to kindler, gentler, more humble, more pious ideals that people who miss the 1950s are always touting.
Yes, the twin ambassadors of 2011 really have nothing in common on the surface. However, both are mocked openly for the views they express and both have a large percentage of followers who would like nothing better than to see them fail spectacularly.
What could possibly be a better lead-in to 2012, a presidential election year?

What's in the box???

2011-12-30T07:03:00.000-05:00

Tomatoes are fruits.
Pluto's not a planet.
The ending of "Lost".
Come on, Charlie Brown. Life is complicated enough as it is.
Can't I just enjoy a snack without having to think about it?

One stop shop

2011-12-28T07:11:00.000-05:00

There is a neighborhood here in Tampa, just north and east of Ybor City, that seems to consist entirely of barber and beauty shops, churches and houses. It's probably easy for cops to patrol the area because anybody who doesn't look nice and is either on their way to or from church probably doesn't live there.
One establishment in particular stood out to me as I was passing through there once, the B-Elegant (or B'elegant if your method of saving time consists of eliminating extra syllables whenever possible or if you just hate hyphens). That's it in the picture, located at the corner of north 34th Street and east 26th Avenue. And what caught my eye was the sign above the front door:

There are generally two ways you can go as a small, independent merchant; find a niche and dedicate yourself to that or try to provide as much service in as many areas as you possibly can. The purveyors of B-Elegant have obviously decided on option B because that's an awful lot of good and services under the roof of one small shop.

"Come on in, shop, grab a bite to eat, get your hair done (madames et monsieurs) and if for any reason you find that you're not satisfied with the efforts of our stylist, please allow me to show you to our haberdashery."

Sometimes, noble experiments pay off

2011-12-26T07:26:00.000-05:00

Louis CK is one of my favorite comedians. Right now, he's more popular than ever, with a successful sitcom on FX ("Louie) and having just been named the headliner at the upcoming radio and TV congressional correspondents dinner. He also recently produced and directed a stand-up comedy special and distributed it himself, directly to consumers via the internet for the price of $5, just to see what would happen. What happened was success beyond what most people would consider their wildest dreams:

So it's been about 12 days since the thing started and yesterday we hit the crazy number. One million dollars. That's a lot of money. Really too much money." - Louis CK, December 21, 2011

Keep in mind that this is without the aid of a record/video company or a service like Amazon or iTunes, so that million goes directly back to Louis CK, the person who created the content.

I don't really know why, but I'm fascinated by stuff like this. Prince has tried similar things, some working better than others, but there seems to be a growing movement fronted by several performers who are testing the limits and boundaries of how artists can reap profits from their material without working within the confines of the established system. Feel free to ignore any of the words in that last sentence, like "boundaries", "artist", "established" and "system" if any of them strike you as effete; the point is people who make stuff are figuring out how to keep more of the profits generated by the stuff they make. You probably can't attribute any of this to social media like Facebook or Twitter, but it's difficult to imagine it taking place before these things came to be and removed several layers of insulation between artists and audiences.

If you think that point is overstated, here are more qoutes from Louis CK...

"It's been amazing to conduct this experiment with you. The experiment was: if I put out a brand new standup special at a drastically low price ($5) and make it as easy as possible to buy, download and enjoy, free of any restrictions, will everyone just go and steal it? Will they pay for it? And how much money can be made by an individual in this manner?"

"What I didn't expect when I started this was that people would not only take part in this experiment, they would be invested in it and it would be important to them."

"I really hope people keep buying it a lot, so I can have shitloads of money, but at this point I think we can safely say that the experiment really worked. If anybody stole it, it wasn't many of you. Pretty much everybody bought it. And so now we all get to know that about people and stuff. I'm really glad I put this out here this way and I'll certainly do it again. If the trend continues with sales on this video, my goal is that i can reach the point where when I sell anything, be it videos, CDs or tickets to my tours, I'll do it here and I'll continue to follow the model of keeping my price as far down as possible, not overmarketing to you, keeping as few people between you and me as possible in the transaction."

How fantastic would it be for you, me, all of us, if (insert the name of your favorite artist here) could make a living this way? The trade-off here here is that regardless of the price, if the artists isn't producing something of high quality, they have no right to expect anybody to pay them for it. But that's still a win for us as consumers. If it sucks, we don't have to buy it (but even if we do, we're only out a few bucks) and we don't have to worry about some big company's promotional department glossing things up and beating us over the head, trying to convince us it's wrong to think that way. Honestly, is there a better, more democratic system than that? I can't think of one. "Here, I made this. Please buy it. If you like it, come back and I'll make more." It works for the donut shop. Is there a reason it can't work here?

And how is the special itself? Well, admittedly, I'm a fan so I think it's pretty great. And he's made over $1 million at $5 a pop, so apparently I'm not alone.

You can buy "Louis CK: Live at the Beacon Theater" for yourself by clicking this link right here. I think you should get it, although to be fair, I feel I should warn you that the language is strong and his material goes into areas that make many people uncomfortable. If you're not familiar with him or his style of comedy, I'd suggest you check out a couple of clips on YouTube first, rather than be mad at me because you wasted $5. If nothing else, at least check out the site and read about the process of how this all came about and where the money is going.

The Christmas Velcro Shoes

2011-12-23T07:24:00.000-05:00

Very rarely do I grant requests from readers, mostly because very rarely do I receive any. But for the sake of making this bit work, I've made one, both a request and a reader.

Larry Biblibbbington of Fingerbang, Arizona writes:

"Hey Clark,
In the past you've gifted us with some holiday poetry. In 2008, you did one for Happy New Year and in 2009, you did one for Christmas. You didn't do another one until this past summer, but it had nothing to do with the Christmas or the New Year. How about getting back in the holiday spirit and doing one for us this year, or else I will put on some astronaut diapers and drive cross country and murder you. Please?"

Well Larry, since even the people I make up seem to hate me, I don't see how I can refuse.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present...

The Christmas Velcro Shoes

As I get older every day,
So many things that I have learned.
Like, an oven filled with microwaves
Turned up to 10 makes popcorn burned

Some other lessons I've picked up
I choose to ignore or to use
Like drinking whiskey from a coffee cup
Or not wasting time by tying shoes

Since I've discovered footwear with velcro
I can't be bothered with silly strings
To me, this is the way to go
More valuable than Five Golden Rings

There are no laces so I don't get knots,
That I would have to snip
I just grab
that velcro tab
Tug it once and hear it rip

Also, I don't worry about kids I meet
with crumb-encrusted faces
Crawling down between my feet
And tying together my laces

I have one pair in stealthy black
Another in a pearly white
Stylishly, I'm not held back
Even if I were to meet Jesus tonight.

It's not that I can't tie a bow
(I'd learned how by second grade)
But shoelaces come from...where? I don't know
While velcro is American made

That's why I mentioned to Santa Claus
In my lengthy annual letter
Don't give me no shoes with inherent flaws
When velcro makes it all so much better

I'm already planning to leave him cookies in a dish
Santa's cool and oh-so-smart
I know that he will grant my wish
Because I saw him wearing some at Wal Mart.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, regardless of what you wear on your feet.

Holiday week continues...in spite of me

2011-12-21T06:28:00.000-05:00

So apparently, I'm on a mission to ruin Christmas for everyone. Since Sunday, I've no-showed at two of the three holdiay gatherings to which I've been invited and forgotten to deliver a present I procured on behalf of a friend. It's not intentional; I think maybe somebody has activated a post-hypnotic suggestion I was given some time ago by somebody who wanted me to jack up Christmas 2011 for as many people as possible. Like the responsible guy in the movies who turns into a werewolf and tries to make sure he's incapacitated when the moon is full, I'm trying to take myself out of circulation until December 26th. I asked a friend who has access to a boat if she would take me out and drop me off on an island for a few days. I think she thinks I was kidding but she still said no. She has only herself to blame if I screw up her holidays. At any rate, I just want to get through the rest of the week without touching anything or talking to anyone, thereby minimizing the opportunities to give myself more reasons to hate myself than I've already got.

Aside from that, I'd like to continue this week's holiday film festival with this little gem I whipped up last year. I'm going to post it every year with hope that it becomes like the Charlie Brown Christmas special and generations of screwed-up kids grow up with it forever and ever. As far as legacies are concerned, I figure I could do a lot worse than festive, hungry, foul-mouthed robots.

Happy holiday week!

2011-12-19T10:17:00.000-05:00

Are you insane yet? If so, I hope you're having fun. Because we're in the home stretch of the holidays and when it's over, guess what's waiting for us? The 2012 presidential election. So please, please, please find a way to enjoy yourself during this holiday season...because what comes next isn't going to be any fun at all.

To help, I'll run a couple of my personal seasonal favorites this week, starting today. This one is my gift to those who love the Frank Capra classic "It's A Wonderful Life" but can't carve out more than two minutes and fifteen seconds to sit down and watch it. You're welcome!

Sign O' The Times

2011-12-16T06:25:00.000-05:00

This is what my apartment complex looked like Wednesday morning:

What happened? Zombie apocolypse? Smallpox outbreak? Holiday vacation travel?
No, I'm afraid the situation is much, much more not that big of a deal; the parking lots are being resurfaced.
It's a large complex and they're doing it in sections over the course of a week. So while one area is being worked on, residents who live in that section can't park right in front of their homes. As yet another example of Why People In Other Countries Hate America, many of the residents have reacted to this slight, minor and short-term inconvenience by freaking out. Lots of them are very angry, acting like it's just the worst thing that's ever happened. Some people are parking in grass areas and others are cramming their cars into any available sliver of space, blocking each each other in while full spaces a little bit further away sit empty. And in spite of daily notices from the management office on where to park or not park and signage all over the place, many people just decided to do whatever the hell they wanted, as evidenced by this exchange right outside my window forst thing that morning:
"Ma'am, I'm sorry. You can't park here. This is where the men are working today."
"The note said I couldn't park here last night."
"Right. Because we need the area clear so the men can get started working first thing in the morning. It actually would have been fine if you had parked here last night, as long as the car was gone now. We thought it would be easier if people just parked their cars elsewhere the night before."
"Yeah, but you didn't say that. You said not to park here last night. So last night is over and now I want to park here. There's nothing that says we can't park here this morning, so that's what I'm going to do."
"Yes, there is. In addition to the flyers we put on your door, we posted signs saying so."
"No, you didn't."
"Ma'am, you're standing in front of one of them right now."

"..."
"..."
"No, you didn't."

Sharing the love!

2011-12-14T06:50:00.000-05:00

For some odd reason, I've come across people doing nice things for me and saying nice things about me the last couple of days. Being the compulsive, unrepentant braggart that I am, I'd like to share them with you now...

The Bus Leagues Experience: Volume 2 - This is a book from the writers of Busleaguesbaseball.com, a web site dedicated to covering minor league baseball. I was interviewed by Michael Lortz this past summer and they saw fit to include that in their latest volume of collected "best of". You can buy it here from Amazon.com and read some misty, water-colored memories of my days with the dearly departed Tampa Tarpons of the Florida State League, as well as some not-very-nice things about the way the Tampa Sports Authority conducted business back in the '80s (that can't possibly come back to haunt me, can it? Nahhhhh) among interviews on more than 50 other baseball personalities (I think my thing in 2012 will be to start referring to myself as a "personality"; I figure that would be easier than actually having one). You can also buy Volume 1 while you're there, although I'm not in that one. Thanks to Eric Angevine, Chris Fee, Scott Grauer, Brian Moynahan, Tamara Swindler and especially Michael Lortz.

Silverwood Technology - My friend Brent Silverwood is a guy I went to school with back in Michigan and he now works in technology. I know nothing specific about what he does or technology itself. As far as I'm concerned, that is his job: "What does Brent do?" "Technology." "What, he makes it, markets it? What kind of technology? Medical, automotive?" "Yes.".
If you had told me that the kid that was befuddled by the onions we dropped into his fruit punch that we had told him were tiny ice cubes would grow up to be employed in the technology industry, I would have spewed fruit punch from my nose. Of course, as dumb as we all were as kids, I'm sure our classmates (and probably our parents) would be amazed that we grew up without drowning ourselves while putting on a pair of shoes or getting run over by a car chasing a balloon out into traffic or something, so there's that. Anyway, Brent has started blogging and look what he wrote in his very first post:

"...this will be my forum for those lessons and philosophical regurgitation of my education and experience. I am also inspired by Clark Brooks' Ridiculously Inconsistent Trickle of Consciousness (the all too clever writings of a high school friend"

High praise indeed! I'm sincerely flattered!

The Spencerian - Somehow I missed this when it came out in August, but this was posted when I was knee-deep in my annual mock-non-campaign for Creative Loafing's Best of the Bay award. You may recall that Peter Schorsch complimented me but stated his case for why I, and others, shouldn't win the award. Well, Benjamin Kirby who publishes The Spencerian took issue with Peter's opinion and dropped this nugget in his response:

First of all, Clark is an interesting and very talented writer.

Honestly, that means more to me than winning an award (Creative Loafing voters, please disregard this sentence next summer). Thanks Ben!

Serge Lavange - Who? I have no idea. The email I received says it's an account manager for a company that "aggregate job adverts around the world" whatever the hell that means. I suspect it's somebody...or something...that uses some sort of MadLibs-inspired algorithm to search blogs for words and phrases from the authors blogs and profiles and then use them in emails to those authors in an attempt to establish some sort of false familiarity. I could be wrong, although I'm pretty sure neither David Sedaris nor Chuck Palaniuk have written books titled "Anything". I've copied and pasted it here, so you be the judge. At any rate, he/she/it seems to enjoy the blog, so thanks and have an excellent mood yourself!

Hello!

I'm so glad that someone else reads books :) I found Anything by David Sedaris in your profile, it is one of my favorite ones! By the way, I do not know if you read Anything by Chuck Palahniuk, I can recommend it to you, I think you should like it.

I just want to thank you for your wonderful blog clarkjbrooks.blogspot.com.

I read the post "This is glue. Strong stuff." and then I spent another hour on your blog by reading your posts with pleasure :) Every article is interesting and easy to read. I really like the "A Budget-Conscious Tourist's Tale".

I work for XXX company, we aggregate job adverts around the world.

My job is to persuade bloggers to link to our site.

I really love my job! We have a friendly team and good management, but unfortunately I have no idea how to convince a blogger to link to us, I'm afraid I might lose my job because of it :(

And that is why, instead of sending letters to thousands of different blogs, I am reading yours.

Honestly, I am not really sure if the link to our website in United States - XXX.com, will be appropriate for your blog, but if you believe it will and it is possible to add it, I would be really grateful to you! Our site is really cool, it can greatly help hundreds of people to find a job.

I wish you to have a good day and excellent mood! Thanks again for your nice blog. Write more! Thanks!

Best regards,

Serge Lavange
Account Manager

The bachelor, his breakfast and the bigger meaning of it all

2011-12-12T06:45:00.008-05:00

As you may or may not know, I am a single dude, currently sans companionette, due in large part to my general unlovable-ness. As such, I live alone. And this is a status update I posted yesterday via Twitter:

Being unable to find a fork didn't stop me from eating spaghetti for breakfast this morning. Single life has all kinds of pluses & minuses.

I'm not usually a big fan of my own words but I'll readily admit that this little statement pleased me. Funny, yes? But sad as well, no?
YES!
Ah, the dichotomy! The duality! The two-sided-ness! The seeming contradictitude!
You see, it doesn't matter whether or not it's mostly true (it probably isn't...kind of). It's the exploration of the wide variety of all the aspects touched on within, regarding the pros and cons of a single lifesyle versus that of co-habitation. Both have merits and drawbacks. People are attracted to one another, drawing pleasure and comfort from the company of another. Yet, they (especially men, am I right, fellas?) frequently feel the need for independence and to stray. What's right? What's wrong? Let us tally the pluses and minuses referred to in this statement for the sake of exploring and resolving this age-old conundrum once and for all, shall we?

"Being unable to find a fork..."

Okay, that's not good. It paints a picture of me owning at least one fork at some point and having lost it/them. That's not entirely true, though. While it's true that I didn't know where any forks were at the time this Tweet was originally written yesterday (also, now), I don't consider them lost. There's simply no logical reason to think they've left my apartment. In fact, I frequently steal flatware from restaurants so it's entirely likely I have many, many more forks now than I did when I moved in. It's just that I can't account for their whereabouts. When and exactly where will I see any of them again? There is absolutely no possible way on earth to even hazard a guess at the answer to that question. My faith is of tremendous comfort to me during times like these. Still, I'm willing to concede the point that if a woman lived here, the likelihood of any forks wandering off unattended drops significantly. COUPLE: 1, SINGLE: 0.

"...didn't stop me from eating spaghetti for breakfast this morning."

On the one hand, if a woman were present, she wouldn't let me eat spaghetti for breakfast (and certainly not without a fork). On the other, if a woman were present, there undoubtedly would have been other (better) options available for breakfast. On the one hand, I like eating whatever I want for breakfast and not having anybody criticize me one way or another. On the other, some sort of egg dish, perhaps an omelette, would have been nice. TOGETHER: 3, SEPARATE: 2

Let's go back to the first hand again, where I think it's indicative of my raccoon-like resourcefulness that I'm able to feed myself without the benefit of available flatware and civilized people-groceries. Why did I eat spaghetti? Because it was there...while so many other things were not. And, uhhhh, I didn't feel like starving to death, thank you very much. But with the absence of a fork, how did I eat it? Let's just say that simple machines are generally sorted into the following six classifications: lever, wheel and axle, pulley, inclined plane, wedge and screw. And that many of these simple machines can be created with various combinations of common breakfast table items like toast, butter knives, pens and fingers. For that, if anything, I should receive praise. The kind of praise that would not be forthcoming from a female roommate. So if I count up all the hands, I think that makes the score... SHACKED-UP: 3, LONE WOLF: 3.

Well, I guess this issue is far too complicated to be settled within the confines of an admittedly well-crafted Tweet of 140 characters (I told you it pleased me) or even the ramblings of a pointless blog post (this, eh). That's a shame, as I was hoping to settle it once and for all, at least for the sake of gay people who can now get married but haven't screwed up their lives yet.
Sorry, gay people. I have failed you yet again.

The two stories behind one picture

2011-12-09T06:58:00.001-05:00

Story #1 (the short one) - The other day, Tuesday, November 29th, I was working one of my part-time jobs when I found these glasses on a co-worker's desk. I thought it would make a funny picture (especially with the goofy mustache I had at the time) so I put them on and had someone snap this photo.

Story #2 (the long one) - The other day, Tuesday, November 29th, I was working one of my part-time jobs when I found these glasses on a co-worker's desk. I thought it would make a funny picture (especially with the goofy mustache I had at the time) so I put them on and had someone snap this photo.
As of December 1st, two days later, I no longer had the mustache. It was something I did to participate in "Movember", a cancer awareness thing that took place throughout the month of November. However, I did still have the glasses. Uh-oh. I must have gotten distracted (possibly with something work related, but not likely), put them in my shirt pocket and forgot about them. I wasn't scheduled to work again for a couple of days so I immediately called my co-worker.
"Hey Doug, it's Clark. Listen, I have your glasses. Sorry about that. I'll bring them right over. Sorry."
"Why?"
"Why...? Because I figure you'd want them?"
"Why do you have my glasses?"
"Oh! Well, I was goofing around and I had my picture taken wearing them. Heh heh!"
"Goofing around? You know I need those to see, right?"
"Well yeah, I just thought it would be funny..."
"What's funny about that?"
"Um, they're unusual glasses. You know. Funny."
"Depriving me of the ability to see...is something you find funny?"
"No! No, of course not! That's not what I meant."
"Well, explain it to me then. What exactly is so funny about a pair of glasses, something that gives people who would otherwise be impaired, the gift of sight?"
"Come on, Doug. It's just that..."
"Yeah? Go on."
"Well, for starters, the frames. They're bright red, like Sally Jesse Raphael used to wear..."
"Oh, those red ones? Those aren't mine."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, I found those crazy things. I just keep them around because they're hilarious!"
"So you don't need these to see...?"
"I couldn't figure out what you were talking about; I'm wearing my glasses right now."
"..."
"Don't ever mess with stuff on my desk again."
{click}

Extreme!

2011-12-07T07:10:00.001-05:00

Normally, I'm not someone who's all that impressed with so-called "extreme sports", as you can tell by the snotty, hyphenated descriptor I placed in front of the term which renders the quotation marks around it redundant.
I appreciate that the people who do these things are athletes of considerable skill and what they do is certainly impressive. But beyond taking a glimpse at YouTube videos now and then, they just don't hold my interest.
But if you mix extreme sports with a goofy internet fad that's probably 15 minutes past its 15 minutes of undeserved fame as I write this, well, now you have my attention! Of course, I'm talking about...

EXTREME PLANKING!

As I'm sure you're aware, ""Planking" (or the "Lying Down Game") is an activity consisting of lying face down in an unusual or incongruous location. Both hands must touch the sides of the body and having a photograph of the participant taken and posted on the Internet is an integral part of the game. Players compete to find the most unusual and original location in which to play. The term planking refers to mimicking a wooden plank. Rigidity of the body must be maintained to constitute good planking.

Since early 2011, many participants in planking have photographed the activity on unusual locations such as atop poles, roofs and vehicles. Planking can include lying flat on a flat surface, or holding the body flat while it's supported in only some regions, with other parts of the body suspended. (Thanks, Wikipedia!)" Well, the daredevils who engage in EXTREME PLANKING! have taken it to the next level! How, you ask? Simple. Regular planking requires lying down horizontally; EXTREME PLANKING! is done vertically! What?!? Check it out!

Awesome!!

Radical!!

Tandem? Cowabunga!

Video game!

Showoff.

This probably happened too

2011-12-05T07:09:00.004-05:00

The video of Zach Wahls speaking in the Iowa Senate against a joint resolution that would ban gay marriage and civil unions in the state has become very popular recently ("gone viral", as they say). Watch the video here and then read below it to see what I'm pretty sure came afterward...

"Thank you, Mr. Wahls. Now, who's next?"
"Uhh, that's me, your honor. My name is Larry Dobberman. But that's okay. I'm good."
"You asked for the opportunity to address the state senate. Obviously, there's something of great import on your mind. This is your opportunity, let's hear it."
"It's just that I, uh, really wish I could have gone first. I didn't know that..."
"Mr. Dobberman, this is the state senate. We don't have time to play games."
"Okay, okay. Well, uh, like I said I'm Larry Dobberman. I too, also, am a native Iow-o-nian in that I've lived here in Iowa all my life after my folks moved here from Chicago when I was 17. I'm pretty sure my grandfather was born here but I don't know much before that..."
"Go on."
"Um, my dad is a man. With a penis and my mom is a woman, presumably with a vagina of some sort. They got divorced though...look, I'd really feel better if you let Zach go again. Maybe there's something he forgot that would make him sound stupid."
"Mr. Dobberman, please. We've listened to Mr. Wahls already. Now proceed."
"It's just that he gave a good speech, a really good speech, and giving speeches isn't really my thing...and an Eagle Scout? Geez, really? I mean, come on overachiever!"
"Mr. Dobberman, do you or do you not have something to contribute to these proceedings in regard to the matter at hand?"
"You know what? Before we started, I saw him drinking coffee in the cafeteria and he didn't have a spoon so he used a fork. He stirred his coffee with a damn fork! What about that, huh? Huh? Zach Wahls is a fork-stirrer!"
"Mr. Dobberman..."
"There's a right way and a wrong way to do things. That's all I'm saying. Is...anybody going to applaud? No? Right. Okay, then."
"That's enough, Mr. Dobberman. Have a seat."
"Buncha fork-stirrers."

An extra point from a guest author

2011-12-03T07:22:00.004-05:00

Monica Idziak is a traffic reporter for local Clear Channel radio stations. She submitted this before the end of the month but after I had filled all the guest author slots, so not technically late...but late. The good news it's never too late to include something good. Here's Monica's bio:

Born in Iowa, lived in Buffalo, LOVE my Florida life. I “work” at Clear Channel Radio, although reporting traffic is, I’m convinced, the easiest job known to man in present day time. 2 cats, avid runner (completed multiple 5k’s, a 15k, and a half marathon), sports enthusiast, and all-around smart-ass funny girl. No ‘real’ blog experience, but writing pretty much non-stop since high school. I’m the grammar snob/spelling queen your mama warned you about. :-P

And here's Monica's post (and I have a rebuttal of sorts at the end)

Chicks Portrayed in Sports Commercials: That Ain’t Right.

I realize it’s 2011, and (finally!) I’m not the only girl in America who enjoys watching sports. At long last, I am not the only chick at a sports bar and I don’t hafta choose between a Men’s Small or a Child’s Large in the jersey section. Having said that….when the bleep are sports-themed commercials gonna catch up and get outta the dark ages?!

Now, let me clarify. When I say “sports-themed” commercials, I mean:

1) Anything with a sports logo in the ad.
2) Those fancy car ads aimed to make you feel like you need the vehicle in order to remain sporty/cool/manly/relevant/hip/you get the idea.
3) Snack food commercials that consistently insist you eat whatever salty/sweet/savory food they’re selling at whatever sporting event you’re watching or attending.
4) Beer commercials

They all start out innocent enough: A dude. A Chick. He is watching a game or wants to go to a game or has friends peer pressuring him into watching or going to a game. Enter the Evil Chick. Oh yeah, she can’t be trusted or even liked. SHE has other plans. She wants to cuddle/shop/cook/clean/run errands/ruin his plans however her estrogen can make that happen.

It’s insulting. It’s demeaning. It’s, quite frankly, disgusting.

I know plenty of women who know what Saturdays and Sundays in the fall are for. I know a lot of girls who countdown to Spring Training. I know a crapload of girls who salivate at the thought of watching grown men duke it out on the ice for an entire season, and I didn’t realize exactly how many girls I know that just got their Christmas NBA miracle.

As part of the collective sports-lovin’ buncha females, I cringe when I see the woman portrayed as the obstacle to the man’s happiness…especially his sports happiness. I’ve always encouraged supporting one’s favorite team. I’ve always made plans around important games/meets/matches. I’ve always enjoyed the jumping/screaming/drinking/eating that accompanies a good sporting event.

I recall a specific time about 5 weeks into football season. A man (he shall remain nameless so as to minimize shame) announces to me 10 minutes before kickoff that he had some errands to run and we always watch football all day Sunday so he just wants to be productive and get things done that week. Now, we have a sweet setup. Tiki bar with pool in backyard and surround sound, flat screen with NFL ticket. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I proceed to tell him, “Um, you get your productivity outta the way during the week so you can watch football and drink all day Sunday. (yelling at this point) Now SIT YOUR ASS DOWN on that bar stool, drink a damn beer, and shut up and watch football with me damnit!” I can tell you, THAT ain’t gonna be made into a commercial. (He did eventually realize his ridiculousness and enjoyed a fun Sunday.)

So, here’s to all the females who aren’t nagging/whiney/boring chicks. We aren’t represented in any national tv commercial, but we’re here. And we ain’t goin’ anywhere. National Advertisers: you’ve been warned.

Well said. And for what it's worth, Monica, I'm a male who finds the portrayal of the "bros" in many of those same ads equally as cringe-inducing. I do not, can not, never have and never will relate to the Ralph Kramden/frat boy hybrid mindset that places such high value in male bonding and 'boys night out'. The thing is, I know that those guys exist outside of the world of sports themed advertising. I know because I've had them tell me my viewpoint is "gay". And when I point out the irony in that statement, they act like I'm validating their opinion. Yeah, that's another thing I haven't been able to figure out either. - Clark

Door: Busted!!

2011-12-02T07:07:00.002-05:00

Look how happy he is!

Sometimes I like to pretend I'm a real human being and participate in activities that real human beings find popular. Similar to the way a chimp in captivity will eventually start to mimic human behavior. Especially around the holidays, it's hard not to want to get caught up in all the fervor and activity like everybody else. So I get involved as much as I can. I drink hot cocoa. I listen to Christmas music. This year, I even attended Thanksgiving dinnerS (plural, as in two of them!) with actual real human beings! One thing, I've never done is the whole "Black Friday" thing. Oh sure, I'm sure I've shopped on the day after Thanksgiving. If you abandon any false hope whatsoever that you're going to be able to move about freely in any way, shape or form, it can be a tremendously rewarding people watching experience. But I've never arrived early at a store to take advantage of crazy markdowns on merchandise. I don't need anything and I don't have any money anyway. It just seems like one of those real human being activities that I've missed out on.
I have a friend who works for Ikea here in Tampa who told me all about the stuffed toys they're offering this holiday season. They're inexpensive at regular price but would be on sale at 50% off for a holiday special. And for every one they sell (plus children's books and kid's meals) between November 1 and December 24th, Ikea will donate one Euro (which is about $1.35) to UNICEF and Save The Children to support quality education. She showed me some pictures and I was intrigued by the broccoli guy you see pictured here. For one thing, I've never seen such a happy vegetable. For another, he would only be about $4 with Ikea donating more than 25% of that to a good cause. I now had a valid reason to camp out at a store!
"Oh. Um, well, you don't need to do that. We don't really do 'doorbusters' like other stores. The toys are on special but we have plenty of them."
"Yeah, but it will be fun to write about. I'll live blog the whole experience right from the Ikea parking lot!"
"We don't really encourage that. Like I said, there's really no incentive. You'd be the only one there."
"Even better! It'll be hilarious!"
"What's...hilarious about that?"
"I don't know. I'll think of something."
"I really wish you wouldn't..."
"Too late. I'm doing it. This is the kind of gonzo comedy journalism my readers expect! I'm like Hunter S. Thompson or Lester Bangs. You can't stop me. As soon as I finish Thanksgiving dinner, I'm heading over to Ikea with a comfy chair, a blanket and some rain gear. And the next morning, I will be the first one in line, whether or not there is a line, long before the crack of dawn. This is real, and this is happening."

When I woke up in my warm, comfy bed at home on Friday morning, having forgotten my commitment to gonzo comedy journalism in a turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie-induced haze, it was almost 9:30. I barely had enough time to drive to the store for breakfast in their restaurant ($1.99!). After my second refill of coffee, I picked up a broccoli guy from the bin right outside the restaurant, made my purchase and headed home.

Final assessment: Black Friday is vastly overrated.

Thanks, guest authors!

2011-12-01T06:56:00.004-05:00

And so ends Guest Author Month.
My thanks to all the participants for sharing their work and letting me basically goof off for a month:

I hope you enjoyed their contributions and will visit their sites often....not often enough to keep you from spending time here, but enough to make them...and you...feel good.
Now...

give me back my blog!

Guest Author: Tara Shrodes

2011-11-30T07:13:00.001-05:00

Today's post (and the last for Guest Author Month) is from Tara Shrodes of Clique Clack.com, the online home of "TV Episode & Movie Reviews - Unique Recipes - Snarky Commentary - Deviant Thoughts". Here's her bio from there: "I have a long history in television and radio, writing and performing. In 1991, I won a Michigan Emmy Award for Comedy Acting. Emmy's wing broke off during a move. But I still love her. We all have our flaws." You can check out her various 'clacks' here and follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/tarashrodes. And in the meantime, check out her review of the classic musical "West Side Story" she shares with us here...

Earlier this month, Turner Classic Movies hosted a special nationwide screening of my favorite musical, "West Side Story", in celebration of the fiftieth year of its' release. I've never seen it on the big screen before, so when an alert and thoughtful friend sent me a link telling me about it? You better believe I circled the ninth in red on my calendar. (That was a lie. I lead a quiet life, and don't really write things on a calendar. I'm more of a list making person. But you get the gist.)

Having put my poor husband through at least 23 television viewings of WSS in the past seventeen years, I wasn't surprised when I told him about the upcoming extravaganza and he looked as if he was passing a kidney stone. I was quick to reassure him that I'd find a victim ... I mean someone to go with, or heck even just have myself for company. (I do not understand people who have problems going to movies alone.) He was super relieved, and did remind me gently that Tony would indeed die this time too, only about 30 feet larger than I'd seen him die before. (I've jokingly asked him during each time I've forced this on him ... "Do you think maybe this one time Chino won't kill Tony? Do you think maybe this one time Tony and Maria can hop a bus to Somewhere and be OK?") Sigh.

So, I picked up the phone and called an old friend I used to work with in Detroit Public Television back in the day. I knew this woman would jump all over going to this flick with me if the date wasn't already taken, and happily I was right. We agreed to meet for a light dinner beforehand, as I stressed I needed a huge tub o' popcorn to fully enjoy the experience.

Turner Classic Movies did a bang up job of making sure you could find the theater with a showing closest to you on the big day. All you had to do was type in your zipcode, and Pow! Wacko Jacko! Down goes a teenage hoodlum! (And by this I mean a screen popped up telling you exactly where to go.) Thanks, Daddio!

Still my friend Marty and I found ourselves phoning each other and lost on the way to the restaurant. I was there a bit earlier than she, so I snapped some pics of the foreboding clouds.

The weather was definitely doomishly perfect, considering Tony and Maria's fate. You'd want to see this movie on a night like this. The arrow in the picture below is pointing the way to the AMC 30; a short drive from the diner where we ate. (I had the spinach salad.)

Are you getting excited? Am I building you up for the Big Show? Are you humming "When You're a Jet" yet?

So! After visiting the ladie's, Marty went for seats and I went for my Big Tub O' Popcorn. Here's a pic of my ticket stub while we wait in line.

Yep. Twelve smackeroos. And fiddy cents. I didn't bat an eyelash though. It's a small price to pay for Leonard Bernstein cranked up to eleven, and Steven Sondheim lyrics swirling around the theater. Small potatoes!

Not so for my Tub O'Corn though. I must not have been to a movie in eons. (It has been eons, as I can't even remember what I saw, and it was most certainly at a matinee.) But when the pimply faced kid behind the counter told me that I owed him $13.25 for my Coke and popcorn, I almost skivved him like Bernado did Riff. Much to the impatience of the hungry movie-goers behind me, I declared my own personal rumble on the management of the theater, who obviously thinks that charging $7.25 for a soda fountain drink that costs at most a quarter to pour, is fair. But the clock was ticking, and this is one of my favorite films, so I took a deep breath and put extra butter on my tub. (Hey! I told you I only had a salad!) And I headed to find Marty in Theatre Seven.

Marty was about two thirds of the way up, on the right almost to the end. I'd tried to talk her into one of the first ten rows, but her neck bothers her. I was square with that. Hell, who cares as long as I've got Tonight, Tonight? Right? So, I threw my coat around me like a blankie and settled in.

After the lights went down, TCM showed a long bit with host Robert Osborne on the making of the movie, with guests George Chakiras (Bernardo), Marnie Nixon (the singing voice of Natalie Wood) and one of the producers who I shall call Ancient Old Man. Marty and I (remember I told you we both worked in television together) agreed afterward that this half hour bullshit could have used a good editor. It was also waaaay disrespectful to Natalie Wood (God rest her soul) who Ancient Old Man and Marnie just trashed for being angry that her own singing voice was not used. I mean they went on and on about it. Hey! That was part of her deal with the studio (not written but implied). I would have been pissed too! Thank goodness George Chakiras spoke up for her and pointed out what a truly lovely performance she gave in this film. Classy move, George. (He himself won an Oscar for playing Bernado.)

I won't go into the play by play of the movie. Hopefully you know it, or I do believe I lost you about four paragraphs ago. Let's just say that my thoughtful friend who told me of the screening in the first place, asked me why I love WSS so much. And I have to say? It's a culmination of reasons. First and foremost; the casting is perfect. To this day, I cannot see Richard Beymer as anything but Tony, and every other Tony just isn't Richard Beymer! (When I first saw the film I was about 13, and I was in looooove with Tony. So imagine the first time I saw Chino shoot him! Crushed! See above conversation with husband.)

The direction is amazing in West Side as well. There were two directors and alot of bullshit in between, but Robert Wise gets most of the credit. (Jerome Robbins got fired midway through production, but was responsible for filming and choreogphing all but two of the musical numbers. He received a special Oscar.) The lights and shadows. The placing of the actors, just so (sometimes with symbols in the background.) The difficulty of filming the live dance routines and doing them justice! Wow!

And of course, the most obvious. The score. With lyrics by a very young Steven Sondheim (who must be a genius to ome up with words like this in his 20's), and music by Leonard Bernstein (one of my personal idols) the soundtrack to this film is hand in glove with the story. It's seemless. It's priceless. It's one of the best marriages of images and sound and words that you will ever see.

Ever.

And it's funny in parts too. (Take the songs "America" or "Officer Krupke" for examples.) I really loved the fact that my 300 plus seat theater was packed. Only a few empty seats. And with people of all ages; from 8 to 80. We cheered at the end of each song. There were audible sniffles at several of the swoony Tony and Maria moments. The only part that sucked was when Tony was dying in Maria's arms and some clown says out loud, "Just take him to the hospital!" Assmonkey.

Although everyone shushed him and all was well for Natalie's big scene at the end. How fantastic was she? I still get chills thinking about it. "How many bulletts are in this gun, Chino? Enough for you? And you? All of you!" Heavy sigh.

I guess the biggest thing I love about WSS has got to be Tony and Maria. Their relationship is just so perfect and tragic and sad and lovely and ... doomed. Appeals to the romantic in me.

And I wish? (Aside from the fact that just once Tony wouldn't die?)That TCM would sponsor old movies on the big screen on a regular basis. After all, it's the way they're meant to be seen!

Thanks for the space to rant, Clark!

Guest Author: Mike Lortz

2011-11-28T06:40:00.001-05:00

Our next writer is a stand-up comedian, so let's do a stand-up comedian-style intro, shall we?

Ladies and gentlemen, you might know our next performer from his sportswriting at "Bus Leagues Baseball"and "RaysIndex", or you might know him from his own web site "MikeLortz.com/JordiScrubbings.com" or maybe you've seen him on stage at the Tampa Improv or cavorting about town as his afro-ed alter-ego Jordi Scrubbings. You may even remember him from his guest spot on this very web site a year ago. Or it's entirely possible you're not familiar with him at all. Either way, let's keep it going right now for Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike Lortz!

The Inconsistent Value of Fries and Drink

As always, it’s an honor to be here among other great writers. I’d like to thank the academy, my co-stars, and my writers (oops!). And of course, thanks to Clark for hosting this great bloggeration mixtape. Every year I find new voices here and this year is no different.

Speaking of no different, last year I used this forum to voice a complaint on a situation that had been bugging me for years. For those who forgot, or who weren’t around, last year I spouted off on the insane amount of letter labels I receive in the mail from charities. I even created a new word: “free-tionary”. It hasn’t caught on yet, but I’m still using it.

This year, I’d like to again get on my soapbox about something that has bugged me for a while. One of those societal peccadilloes that make no sense on the surface and make even less sense the more you investigate. One of those things most of us face regularly without even knowing about it.

A little bit about me, I am fast food restaurant addict. I’m single and typically too lazy to cook, so I go to fast food restaurants at least once a week. This is different from a fast food addict. I eat healthy, I just do it at McDonalds, Wendys, and Subway. I’m a grilled chicken sandwich junkie. And of course, I always get a value meal. I know fries are terrible and sweet tea is liquid crack, but I gotta get both. Not getting a drink and fries with a sandwich is like eating cereal with no milk, drinking kool-aid with no sugar, eating peanut butter with no jelly, and eating ham with no burger.

But what really tweaks my melon is when the price of these valuable extras varies between meals at the same restaurant. It’s true. Sometimes the value in the value meal is different per meal. Most people don’t realize this as they use value meals as convenience more so than for a true value.

Confused yet?

I recently toured a McDonalds, a Burger King, and a Wendys on Kennedy Ave in Tampa. I figured proving my theory would be best at fast food joints on one of Tampa’s most highly trafficked road. Here is what I found:

First, some insight on my methodology. Because of its average size between small and large, I decided to set “medium” as the basis of my cross-restaurant comparison. Disclaimer: I didn’t get picky and measure ounces.

At McDonalds, value meals come with a medium size drink and fries. Those components individually cost $2.19 for the fries and $1.99 for the drink, totaling $4.18. For some insane reason, McDonalds has the greatest price variance for these components in their meals. For example, if you order a Big Mac meal, the price is $5.99. The sandwich by itself is $3.29. That’s $2.70 for the fries and drink. That price is consistent for the ¼ pounder with cheese as well.

However, if you order the “two cheeseburger” value meal, you will pay .80 cents more for the same fries and drink. One cheeseburger costs $.99, two cost $1.98, and yet the meal with medium fries and a drink costs $5.49. That’s $3.51 for the fries and drink.

How does that make any sense?

Down the road at Burger King, things are little less varied. A medium drink and a medium fries costs $3.84. Unlike McDonalds however, Burger King sets their defaults to small and medium costs 50 cents extra. But there is still variance for the same product. For example, a Whopper costs $3.49 individually and $5.99 with a medium drink and medium fries. That’s $2.50 for the value part of the meal.

However, if you order the 10 piece chicken nugget you pay more for the medium drink and medium fries. A 10 piece nugget box by itself is $2.69 and the meal is $5.49. That’s $2.80.

How does that make sense? Where did the additional 30 cent cost come from?

At least things are more normal at Wendys. There a medium drink costs $1.99 and a medium fries costs $1.99. That’s between the price of Mickey Ds and the King. But where Wendys gets credit is in its value pricing. Like Burger King, Wendys sets their default to small, and upgrading to medium is additional 69 cents. But every medium sized combo is $2.69, regardless of the meal. It doesn’t vary from chicken to burger to salad to anything else.

So cheers to Wendys for being consistent with their product prices. Even though the nine usually makes you have to carry a number or two, you can sorta kinda do the math in your head.

And as Andy Rooney used to say, I like that.

A second helping from Guest Author: Tanya Doyle

2011-11-25T06:36:00.001-05:00

Tanya submitted two pieces and I liked them both and wanted to use them both. But I had a problem figuring out how to do that and be fair to other writers. Then it hit me: I'd let her have the day after Thanksgiving! I think it's a slightly less primo spot than other days because with everything going on, I don't expect to get a lot of traffic today. This way, I can use her second submission (scroll down to read her forst one) and not stick another wrtiter here in the "leftovers" slot. Of course, that's not to say that if you're here and reading this that I think any less of you. Quite the contrary; I think you're great and I love you! Same goes for Tanya. And leftovers, for that matter. You're ALL equally delicious! So enjoy!

I devote a lot of brainpower to completely useless thought. The types of thoughts that roam around my brain range from the completely irrelevant to the utterly practical. The problem is that they all seem to occur at the same time. Random stuff like “Why don’t we gain weight in our lips?” or “Am I going bald?” or “Look at all the seams in this carpet…somebody did a bad job” is overlayed with the regular “gotta get it done” variety of mental activity. You know, the checklists, tasks, and prolonged activities that help us get our kids off to school, ourselves off to work, and our paychecks off to the bank. I’m fairly aware of the jumbled processing going on up there, and most of the time I like my mind just the way it is. But I’ve wondered to myself if this constant flurry of activity is what everyone else experiences.

ADHD runs in my family. Big time. Doctors have told me that I meet the DSM requirements for this diagnosis, but still I wonder. I did well in school, I’ve never had problems with authority, and I’ve been happily married for 17 years. Doesn’t sound like ADHD to me. So I googled ADHD to see what I could find out. There’s plenty out there to be found…for males. Not so much for females. I managed to find a few sources that note differences in the way ADHD manifests itself in girls. Some of the signs are:
· Intense studiousness – as a way to compensate for inattentiveness (ie. spending more hours than average to keep up good grades)

· Hypercritical of self
· Difficulty fitting in with peers
· Anxiety
· Hyper-talkative
· Emotionally hyperactive

Check, check, and check. Really? Me? Still not sold. How is it that I’ve managed so well to date? I know I’m not perfect (far from it), but I’m happy and healthy , with a good family and a roof over my head. All measures of a successful life, in my book. Well, it turns out, the plus of being a female with ADHD is that the higher functioning executive skills that seem to be a problem for males is not so much of a problem for females. So things like planning ahead, organization, and follow-through are less of a challenge. Hmm. Interesting.

Out of curiosity (or perhaps medical necessity), I started medication, and sure enough, I saw a difference. The areas where I saw a difference are what were fascinating to me. Biggest difference: I stopped surfing the net. Or at least dramatically cut down. I’ve come to realize that the World Wide Web is this attention-deficit person’s drug of choice. It calls me to me, promising all that my wondering mind can think up. That feeling of constantly wanting to “google” waned. It was noticeable. And liberating.

The other area where I noticed a difference was in my tendency to dwell, a common trait of my people (yes, I’m embracing it now). All the thoughts that would linger and grow out of proportion no longer festered. I was conscious of all the same old triggers, but like a door that slams shut, my mind no longer went there. I was able to perceive more realistically, process, and move on.

My stint on medication only lasted a few months. Those drugs are expensive, and I didn’t see enough benefits to outweigh the costs (monetary and physical). That first day off, I cried for a solid two hours. Over ridiculous stuff. It was as if all my craziness had been stomping at the gate, building up, just waiting for the medication to wear off. Even as I was crying my eyes out, I knew I was being comical. So I let the tears roll and then picked myself up and got back to work.

Side note: one should always work from home on days when one plans to go off one’s medication.

By the next day, I was back on the internet.

And now I know that this bombardment of thoughts isn’t necessarily what everyone else experiences. There are times when I wish for that quick fix that the medication provided. It’s definitely a calmer state of mind. But for the most part, I enjoy my random mind and all the entertainment it brings me.

http://www.ncgiadd.org/pdf/GirlswithADHD.pdf

Guest Author: Tanya Doyle

2011-11-23T06:49:00.007-05:00

Today, we're hearing from a new writer, not just 'new' as in I haven't known about her for very long, but 'new' as in she hasn't been doing this very long. However, Tanya Doyle is off to a great start with her blog at "Original Thoughts of an Unoriginal Thinker". Here's how she describes herself: "...I'm dreadful at self-promotion. I'm a full time drone in a company of over 40,000 employees. Nothing says Employee ID more than that. I was laid off in September, only to be rehired in September. The good thing about getting fired and rehired almost simultaneously is that you are afforded the opportunity to evaluate yourself and your place in the world without actually losing your home. I started this blog in that time. So doing the math, you can see I'm very green. And going by the useless widgets and whistles I've embedded on blog, you can see that I'm doing this all by the seat of my pants."

Money and Me. We have a complicated relationship. We've never been very close, perhaps because it has been in and out of my life since I was a young child. I've always wanted more of a relationship with it, but it ran out on us long ago. It's funny how, despite the disappointments, I keep coming back for more. Alright, enough bad jokes.

People's relationship with money is a funny thing. For some, the absence of it in childhood motivates them to work harder to have it in adulthood. And once they have it, how they use it sheds light on their psyche. Some spend frivolously, as if to make up for past losses, and others do their best to hoard it. I like to think I've completely shed any hang-ups from my penniless childhood and am fully, financially self-actualized. But the truth is, I'm a tightwad. I can't help it.

Which leads me to today's ramble. I want to talk about hair care, specifically hair cuts. I neither like nor look forward to spending money on hair cuts. Between a husband who would love to get a clean up every 2 weeks and 3 growing, hairy kids, I see money going down the drain every time we step into Fantastic Sams or Supercuts or whatever cheap salon we can find. At $15 to $25 a pop, these places are the thorn in my side that I can't avoid. Because the hair won't stop growing. And the cuts that come out of these places are shameful. My 12 year old came out of Fantastic Sams last weekend looking like Dumb and Dumber. For those who have already forgotten, 12 years old is not the age to have a bad haircut. He was mortified. Desperate, he asked to shave it all off.

Because looking like a thug is obviously better than looking like an idiot.

After talking him off the ledge, I convinced him to let me have a go at his hair. If he still hated it, I promised he could shave it all off. Now, I imagine myself to be somewhat of a renaissance (wo)man, and I've been known to save the day with a pair of scissors before. So I worked my magic, and he was satisfied enough to keep his hair. Disaster averted.

The whole experience reinforced my opinion of this regular expense. Why am shelling out so much money for something that looks no worse than what I can do? If only I really could cut hair, instead of just fixing the bad stuff. Isn't it all just angles and geometry and scissors anyway? I'm good with geometry, and I've got an analytical mind, maybe I can do this. I just need to find a website that gives diagrams and measurements to follow. I already have scissors and a ruler. I might need to invest in a protractor, but I think the upfront investment is worth the potential payoff. I'll be saving buckets of money in no time.

In preparation for this new venture, I did my online research, looking for any documentation that was out there. I was on a hunt for haircutting diagrams. Would I be lucky enough to find a goldmine, similar to the Butterick sewing patterns websites that bound aplenty?

My first search involved the term "haircut patterns". I was pleased to have Google complete my term by adding "for men" to it. Unfortunately, what returned were page after page of Vanilla Ice-etched heads. Not what I had anticipated. I tried various other terms, and none of them returned those elusive blueprints I was searching for. I did stumble across a very cool step-by-step tutorial on cutting women's hair. I wish I had a barbie head to practice this one on.
http://www.hairdressing-training.co.uk/cut/step.htm

The same site offered 4 men's tutorials that I could view for 30 pounds. A quick search of pound-to-dollar conversion told me to bookmark the page and save it for a time when I'm feeling wealthy.

It turns out, there's no such thing as haircut patterns. There should be. For people like me. So for now, the haircutting dream will have to be put on hold, and I'll have to find other ways to pinch my pennies.

Guest Author: Keri Ramos

2011-11-21T08:54:00.000-05:00

One of the most fun things about doing this whole "guest author" gimmick is finding "new" writers. Keri Ramos is one of my new favorites. Why? Well, check out her Twitter bio:

"I'm pretty rad. I say inappropriate things quite frequently. I halfheartedly write a pseudo-funny blog. I dig music. And dinosaurs."

Clearly, she's me as a twenty-something-year-old woman. How could I not love that? See more at the appropriately-titled Filthy Nerdy, which she describes as "an elitist, profane examination of trivial, everyday things". I love that too.

I have never been so poor in my entire life. Admittedly, I’m not very responsible with money anyway, but usually it’s because I spend $50 on someone else before spending $20 on myself. I once paid for someone’s abortion. Having never paid for or had an abortion myself (I’m not a right to life-er, I just know how to use birth control correctly, as opposed to everyone else in my hometown. Seffner represent!) I had no idea they were so costly. Whoever invents a safe, do-it-yourself option available for purchase at Target will be a millionaire. After financially backing a murder, I had to cancel some plans in the upcoming weeks due to lack of funds, but my friend didn’t have to raise her rapist’s baby. Everyone wins!

I know money doesn’t buy happiness, but it does buy dresses from Forever21 and chai tea lattes from Sacred Grounds and Urban Decay eye shadow and it could also help me pay for books at USF and fix my car which was accidentally clusterfucked in a rear-ended sandwich by my little brother. But I have no money so I currently have none of these things. And even though I am still lucky enough to have a place to live and things to eat, I am, at times, acutely aware of the fact that I have never been so poor in my life. It’s an annoying kind of poor; I’m not living on the streets or fighting for my survival, I just miss out on social events and guilty pleasures (read: drinking excessively at bars with friends and buying weird music documentaries).

When my car was operational a few weeks ago, I gave my buddy a ride to and from the airport when he went to Colorado to visit family. His return flight landed at midnight and after I collected him, we met a third buddy out for beers to catch up on adventures. Traveling buddy was kind enough to pick up my modest tab, and not because I whined about being poor, but because dealing with the Tampa airport twice in one week without getting to leave Tampa sucks. He also brought me back a shirt from the Colorado dinosaur museum and it has five dinosaurs on it and it is way better than any Forever21 dress. He found it for me at a thrift store and it is my newest and quite possibly favorite article of clothing in the history of clothes I’ve worn.

I’ve started a new tradition known to those who attend it as Family Dinner. It’s so badass and important that we capitalize Family Dinner via text and tweets. Aside from my brother, no one who attends is actually related to me, but they are the kind of family that stumbled into my life some way or another and if they were to leave now I’d be very upset. Everyone brings something to the table, literally. A bunch of social misfits and odd characters show up with pasta and various sauces and garlic toast and drinks. And it’s awesome. The crowd varies week to week, and we keep adding new people but that’s okay because pasta isn’t very expensive and I don’t buy it anyway. I make the meatballs. It happens most Wednesdays and afterwards we go to the Pegasus Lounge for Porneoke. It’s karaoke with a giant screen onstage playing (really awful) porn. The singers in the Family sing everything from Frank Sinatra to Beyonce. And the guy who sings “Single Ladies” also does the dance from the video. It’s a wholesome family activity, and I dare you to have more fun.

I signed up for NaNoWriMo, which has me paralyzed with writing anxiety, but I have an awesome Fiancé who bought me a desk and a chair so I would have a legitimate place to write during this arduous challenge. I think he felt sad for me when he watched me sit on my bed Native American style (I’m assuming we can’t say “Indian style” anymore) with my laptop sitting on top of an overturned laundry basket. The desk is nice and the chair is awesome (it has a ‘mod’ pattern that looks like the 70s threw up on it) but I’m more taken by the fact that he believed in me enough to encourage my endeavors. Or he loved me enough to shut me up about not having a desk and not being able to use the kitchen table because the refrigerator is so loud. Fuck you, Whirlpool.

I’m sure you’ve guessed, through my heartwarming tales of life being rich even though I’m not, is that money doesn’t buy happiness and even though I’m woefully destitute, I’m still wonderfully in love with my existence.

You would be wrong. I have cool dinosaur shirts and Family Dinner and karaoke (now with porn!) and usually someone buys me a shot there and I am currently typing at my fancy desk. These things are free for me, but they cost someone else money. And all the shit I legitimately need? That’s still expensive.

My point is that my friends are better than yours. And luckily for me, they aren’t as broke as I am right now.

Guest Author: Jeff Hickmott

2011-11-18T06:49:00.018-05:00

Today's submission is from Jeff Hickmott, with two T's, no N's, not Jeff Hickmont, as he was listed here....briefly...last year (I have no idea who Jeff Hickmont is; probably a nice enough guy, drawn into all this ugliness through no fault of his own...unless he's a tool, in which case, screw him).
I don't have to write an intro, as Jeff has done that himself. I just have to spell his name correctly (two T's, no N's). Other than that, all I have to tell you is he's British which means he's inherently funny, as he hails from the land that gave us Monty Python's Flying Circus, Peter Sellers and Ricky Gervais and that still kind of owns the country that gave us Kids In the Hall. Ladies and blokes, Jeff Hickmott (two T's, no N's)

So, here is the bit where I tell you about myself. Hmm, what can I tell you that you don't already know from reading my wildly popular blogs The World Of Jeff! and The Food Of Jeff!, not forgetting my guest shot on last year's blog-sitting-type-thing-a-thon-of-infinite-wonder. Well, in the past year I have been employed twice, unemployed twice, and started me a little community action group in my hometown of Tenterden, Kent which you can read about in my third blog, Transition Town Tenterden, at transitiontenterden.blogspot.com. Oh, and I'm in lurrrve. With Laura. I was last year too, but I didn't mention it then. Aaaand I'm rambling. Right. Biography over. On with the motley!

One thing about British TV when compared to American TV is the difference in what's allowed to be shown. Sure, over there in the good ole U S of A you are allowed to have political pundits and religious nutjobs spouting off all kinds of stupid and inflammatory remarks 24/7, but show a movie with a dirty word in it and it's either bleeped out, or more commonly, replaced with an innocuous and ridiculous one. Over here we are allowed to say words after the watershed hour that makes George Carlin's "7 Dirty Words" sound stupid and pointless. And it's not just limited to what you can say. If in the UK you have a programme that is pseudo-health-oriented, then full-frontal nudity and extreme close-ups are A-OK.

Channel 4's show Embarrassing Bodies (along with its sequel Embarrassing Teenage Bodies) has people with serious health complaints on.

A rather unfortunate promo shot for Embarrassing Bodies, and yes, these people are actual doctors.

These people are too embarrassed to go to their regular doctor with these unusual ailments. However they don't seem to mind coming to a studio and having a camera broadcast the innermost workings of their naughty bits to the nation. To give you some sort of example of what we are subjected to every week, I shall tell you some of the ones I've seen (and I've only seen a couple of episodes). The one I remember most was the young man who had a... well, he had... well, it was sorta to do with his butt crack... well, he had a lot of hair growing in his... and, well, he... see, I can't do it. It's too embarrassing. But you can check it out if you want - they have a website... with video clips... oy vey. It's at http://www.channel4embarrassingillnesses.com.

But it's not just limited to this show. On ITV in the a.m. you have Phillip Schofield, former Children's BBC presenter and now sorta-serious journalist (just kidding - there's no way that his oeuvre could be considered serious journalism) co-anchor of ITV's This Morning which recently shocked the nation by showing a live demo of how us guys should be checking our (ahem) balls, which apparently we should do ALL the time. Well, Kojak, let me clue you in - we are guys. We need no provocation or incentive to touch our packages ever. We DO do it all the time. Probably even more than that. But the week before that they had another live demo of Sex Positions for the Over-60s. I kid you not. (It's OK, the senior citizens were dressed).

This sort of stuff would definitely not fly in the United States. Your Bill O'Reillys and your Sean Hannitys and Glenn Becks and Sarah Palins and all the other tea-bagging loose cannon political loons and their friends the religio-nutters at the 700 Club and TBN would have a field day, with outraged cries of FILTH and PERVERSION and so on and so forth. C'mon, you know they would. Imagine Dr. Phil doing a live nutsack or boobie inspection. Or on second thoughts, don't. Imagine the cast of The View doing it. Aah. That's much better.

So why is American media so uptight when compared to its UK counterparts? Why is "The Land Of The Free", "The Land Of Opportunity", "Home Of The Brave", the country that produces about 90% of the porn on the planet, so sensitive about swear words and nudity? Why can you only see uncensored rude material on pay channels in the USA, when you can turn on your TV after about 9pm here in the UK and see expletive-laden stand-up comedy shows such as Russell Howard's Good News? My friends, it's no use asking me, I'm simply asking rhetorically. I don't have the answer. But it's probably got something to do with money and religion. After all, US currency does say on it "In God We Trust".

No God references on English money, no sirree. The Church of England does not have a tight grip on the BBC or ITV. We have very few evangelists on TV, and the ones that are on are usually satellite broadcasts of TBN shows anyway, and most Brits probably consider them a bit of a joke with their glistening cardboard hairdos and their impassioned cries of PRAISE-UH JEE-ZUSS-UH! It's like like a parody of itself.

So as usual I have managed to say a whole lot without actually making a point or accomplishing anything. I guess the only thing I can conclude at the end of this is one of two things: either

(a) We Brits are just a bunch of foul-mouthed perverts, or

(b) You Americans are just a bunch of uptight assholes.

However, as a Brit who lived in the States for 18 years, I can safely say that both statements are false. And somewhat true.

Guest Author: Mr. & Mrs. FruDO

2011-11-16T06:42:00.002-05:00

Today, we are treated to a piece of internal company correspondence created by a mystery author, whom we will refer to as FruDO. The main reason for all the secrecy will be self-evident when you read it. The other is that some of you may know FruDO and/or Mrs. FruDO, who furnished us with this (with his permission on the grounds of anonymity). If you do or even if you think you do, please don't say so in the comments; I'll have to delete it. The only things I will reveal that are even close to a hint is that yes, this is real and no, this is not from a company I have ever personally worked for. Although if they're hiring...

Not everyone values their job.

Thousands of unemployed people are out there, pounding the pavement in search of a job. And yet, too many companies are saddled with employees who jerk off in the company restroom instead of at home in front of the computer as God intended.

Here is an email from Frustrated Director of Operations to such employees. See if you can spot the puns and other efforts to avoid ending up in a harassment lawsuit.

Gentlemen,

It has been brought to my attention that the etiquette level in the men's bathroom has plunged to an all-time low.

Etiquette is a complicated beast. The whole philosophy of etiquette is to be aware of others and to act in a way as to minimize or eliminate your negative impact on other people whenever possible. To that end:

· Urinating all over the seat and not wiping it up is bad etiquette because you can and should clean it up.

· Not flushing the toilet is bad etiquette because you can and should flush the toilet. We respect the conservationist in you, but please stick around and flush twice or thrice if need be.

· Leaving empty toilet paper rolls (even when the second one has sheets left) is bad etiquette because you can and should replace them with a full roll. If supplies are the issue, please get in touch with me and I'll make certain we have enough on hand.

· Speaking of on hand, not having a grip on your libido is bad etiquette. Hats off to you if your mind got occupied with imagery so powerful that you felt it necessary to take care of it right then and there, but in the future don't. Friendly reminder: when we request "new product" this is not of what we speak.

Please take this email as a call to employ common sense in our shared bathroom. Leave the area as clean as possible for the next teammate.

Thank you.

The Director’s wife was so impressed, she asked to tape this to the bathroom wall at home. She was refused.

Guest Author: Ruprecht

2011-11-14T06:42:00.027-05:00

Today's post is courtesy of the mysterious and irrepressible Ruprecht. When he's not mentally torturing the citizens of California (Honestly, haven't those poor people suffered enough? No? Well, carry on then) or making up words (which is downright irresponsiclous) he's authoring two blogs,"Rupe's Value Added Services" and "F(STOP)" and contributing his views on what's good and bad about television at "Clique Clack". And yet, he still found time to share some material with us here. Isn't that nice? (Just smile and nod; it's best not to provoke him).

Well ... I stepped out of my mind for a moment (it wasn't too painful) and wondered: What should I write about? Something entertaining? Engaging? Interesting?

How 'bout my world famous Cup 'O Meat? Not only scrumptiously delicious, but exactly what it sounds like. (And yes ... it must be eaten from the cup. Duh. It's in the name.)
How 'bout the time I was 10 times more annoying silent than when I was free to say whatever I wanted during that Saturday night poker party? (A friend turned to me and asked if I could just shut the #%$*@! up for a couple hours. I did. She got so annoyed and disgusted with me being quiet - gesturing during every single hand instead - she stormed out of the house, dragging her husband with her. Good times.)
Or ... how 'bout the "exploding house of Italians" birthday event? (The house survived. Barely. The bar-be-ques used to cook for everyone, on the other hand, did not.)

So many to choose from. Decisions ... decisions.

I figured I'd go with the Darth Vader Cheez-Its test.

At a party one night, a bunch of us were waxing poetic about life, liberty and the pursuit of whatever we happened to be thinking of that week. At some point the Coke / Pepsi debate came up for the 1,000th time. Naturally, some Bozo decided a bonafide taste test was in order. Several of us decided to put our taste buds on the line and our money where our mouths were.

Now understand: I haven't lost this particular bet yet. I can identify Coca Cola over Pepsi each and every time. Why? Easy. Pepsi tastes like mold. It's that simple.

One guy I hadn't met who had imbibed a little more at the party than was probably good for him (along with Coke and Pepsi during the challenge) came up to me. He glared with eyes rapidly on their way to bloodshot: "You think you're show schmart, don'tcha?! Tell you what ... I'ma gonna challenge you to sumpin' else ... and I'll beat'cha at it, too! Name it, pal! The choice is yoursh!"

Huh buoy. Here we go. I thought I'd make it interesting.

"Cheez-Its," I said.

"Wha ... ???" was his reply.

"Cheez-Its. Cheez-Its snack crackers." I explained. "You see ... the ones that come out of the Darth Vader box are infinitely superior than regular Cheez-Its. Why don't we see if you and I can differentiate between the regular ones and the ones infused with The Force."

My "friend" was skeptical. He looked left, looked right, then said: "Let's do dis thing."

"Tell me how you want to work this," I asked "Blotto".

"Breast 5 out of 7 takes it!" I was informed. "And no Jedi mime tricks, either!"

"Works for me," I responded looking at the ceiling and trusting myself I could get out of the situation without anyone getting hurt.

Several close friends set up little miniature cupcake liners filled with 3 Cheeze-Its each. They had written on the bottom of the liners which ones came from the Darth Vader box, which ones from the non-descript box.

With the both of us wearing blindfolds to make things that much more difficult, we went back and forth identifying which we thought were which. Random bunches of Cheez-Its - in no particular order - were given to us for identification.

When it got to the point where I had recognized every single Cheez-It container correctly (4 out of 4 guessed right) and Blotto was at 1 of 4 correct guesses, he emphatically reminded me we were doing "the best 5 out of 7". At the next correct guess on my part (and incorrect guess on his), he threw in the towel.

"I don' know how you do it," said slowly and with a few Cheez-Its still crumbling around in his mouth. "Mebbee you got that Dart Vader Star Wars Force or sumpin' ... Jew cheat?" he asked.

"No," I explained to him. "It's just the ones coming from the box with Darth Vader on it taste better than the others."

"Thatsh impossible to determine!" he protested, waving me away and plopping himself in chair in the corner. He promptly fell asleep 5 minutes later, grumbling to himself.

You think I'm kidding? Give them a try ... that is if you can still find a Darth Vader box of Cheez-Its around somewhere.

................. Ruprecht (STOP)

Guest Author: Marissa Rapier

2011-11-11T06:40:00.001-05:00

Today's selection comes to us from America's heartland, specially prepared by The Pride of Kankakee her own self, Marissa "Miss Riss" Rapier.
I've had a crush on her for years now. Is it because she digs the '80s? Is it because she has what the young, sassy folks call "attitude"? Or is it her impeccable taste in flashy eyewear? Probably a combination of all that and some other stuff (I will admit to having a thing for girls who wear glasses though). You can see much more of what Marissa has to offer at Marissology, her site.

Meandering with Marissa

What an honor to be asked by Clark to contribute to his blog. Wow! Initially, I told him that due to my recent affection for snapping photos of the terrifying public here in Kankakee, Illinois, that I’d center my post around the sights of my Midwestern village. However, the freaks haven’t been cooperative. Maybe the snap of cold weather has caused them to retreat or cover up. I bet the folks in Florida get more than their fair share of overexposure, eh?

Just last night I was taking a stroll around the mall on my break (I work as a lab manager for a major optical company). My Droid was charging back at the store so the heinous vision of a pregnant woman wearing what appeared to be a child size t-shirt and sweatpants tucked beneath her about-to-burst girth could not be captured on digital film. What a disappointment. The corneal scaring it caused gets lost in translation.

Want to know something else that annoys me about fashion trends other than pregnant women letting it all hang out by refusing to purchase maternity clothes? That is women who appear to have NO clue about their coin slot being exposed when they bend over. You know what I speak of, right? Low-rise jeans are fine and dandy if the right size and cut is worn … and you never squat down or bend over. I’d like to reintroduce the body suit aka the adult onesie as prevention for what was once frowned upon and known as plumbers crack. At least put on a thong and amuse us with whale tail, will ya? In my humble opinion, a butt crack is a butt crack no matter if it belongs to a man or woman; chubby or thin. Cover it up!

Whoa, are you folks in luck! Since photos of wackadoos of Kankakee weren’t procured, on a whim, I took a drive to the park where many of my childhood memories are fondest. The neighborhood has changed fairly dramatically as it was once where the affluent citizens of Kankakee resided. My family of 8 kids didn’t live there, mind you, but it was within walking distance. Well,1970s walking distance. I am not so sure kids of today would take a 10 block stroll to play tennis. Now, it has become a reasonable place to live and the majesty that once was has vanished. Cobb Park is nestled along the Kankakee River.

Did I lose you yet? Hang in there.

A few years ago, my fair town (county) was named THE worst place to live in America. As a result, David Letterman made a big spectacle of it on his show and graciously donated two gazebos so Kankakee could claim the title of “Home of the Twin Gazebos.” On my little cruise around Cobb Park I snapped a photo for your viewing pleasure:

I cannot confirm or deny that the child in the gazebo wasn't part of the donation. A David Letterman love child?

Whilst cruising the area, I spied a house with a sign on its porch. Like a beacon it cried out to be photographed. Do you think it lights up at night and shines into the neighbor’s front windows? Would a special permit be required for such a thing?

This home is located only a few blocks from the Letterman gazebo. Do you think the residents are merely grateful that Kankakee County is no longer the worst place to live? Or does it go much deeper than that. Yeah, it is probably the latter. Still, I think there might be a classier way to let Jesus know you love him. Say, donate 10% of their income to the 700 Club.

A handful of movies have been filmed in part here. Heck, Keanu Reeves allegedly rented porn from a local video store when he was here filming "Chain Reaction." Totally a claim to fame better than being mentioned in an Arlo Guthrie tune or sung by Groucho Marx in "At the Circus." I'll stop because it's unfair of me to make you woeful that your town isn't as fantastical as mine.

Guest Author: Gail Worley

2011-11-09T06:48:00.001-05:00

Rock n' roll. Skulls. Bacon. Pink stuff. All the usual things a girl loves about living in New York City. And nobody does New York better than rock-critic-at-large Gail Worley and her rad blog, The Worley Gig, where she covers that and much, much more.

Check out Gail's review of the Rolling Stones new DVD...

The Rolling Stones: Some Girls Live in Texas Coming to DVD!

It’s easy to take a band like The Rolling Stones for granted. They’ve been together, through various lineup changes (but surprisingly only one actual member death!), touring and recording new music since before most people reading this blog were even born. Is that some kind of record? I’m just going to say that it is. In the summer of 1978, having just released the album Some Girls, The Rolling Stones took off on a summer tour of the United States that is considered by many fans to have included the band’s best performances ever. Guitarist Ronnie Wood had been an official member of the group for just two years and the entire band – Charlie Watts included – were still at least a few years on the left side of 40. The Stones were young, they were hot, and they were an unstoppable rock force!

In fact, the awesomeness of The Rolling Stones in 1978 is a subject that takes too long to talk about, which is why you’re going to have to get your hands on the soon-to-be-released DVD, The Rolling Stones: Some Girls Live in Texas, which I saw last night at a screening here in NYC. You know, I have this fun joke like to I tell where, when someone talks about going to see The Rolling Stones on their latest tour, I’ll say, “I liked the Stones back in the sixties, but not so much now that they’re in their sixties.” Hilarious! And that’s not say that they still don’t put on a kick ass show for a bunch of dudes pushing seventy, but when they were in their prime – both musically and physically – they were the greatest live band in the world. That’s the band you’ll see in this film

By the time the Some Girls tour arrived in Texas in mid-July of 1978, the album had reached No.1 on the US charts and the single “Miss You” was all over the radio. The tour took a back to basics approach, with the band and their music very much at the forefront and little or no elaborate staging. Filmed at the Will Rogers Memorial Center in Fort Worth, Texas, on July 18th, this concert is typical of the tour, with The Rolling Stones delivering a raw, energetic performance in front of a crowd who are clearly out of their minds with excitement and totally into the show. Originally shot on 16mm film, the concert footage has been carefully restored and the sound remixed and re-mastered from the original multi-track tapes by award-winning music engineer Bob Clearmountain. Jagger himself admits that, “Fort Worth was an amazing night in a blistering hot July. Watching it now, the band was really intense and focused, but we were also having a blast with the fans who were really getting into the show and the new tracks from Some Girls.”

That the band were having fun is obvious from the way Jagger practically makes out with Ron Wood at various intervals, and his chemistry with Keith Richard’s is unmatched. Jagger is lucid, sober, handsome and playful. Richards looks like the ultimate rock star and although Watts and Wyman are very much relegated to the background as far as screen time goes, the Stones are tight and in sync with each other on a level that few bands today could achieve. For this recorded performance, the band – Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, Ronnie Wood and Bill Wyman, with various guest musicians including violin player Doug Kershaw and keyboardist Ian McLagan – performs a mix of Stones’ classics, blues numbers and Chuck Berry covers, and a good number of songs from the Some Girls LP, though sadly “Before They Make Me Run” – my favorite – is missing from the set. Highlights for me were “When the Whip Comes Down” and “Happy,” because I’ve always loved the songs were Keith sings lead, or at least tries to.

If you’re looking to find out more about the members of the band as individuals or pick up some new forbidden dirt, be aware that this is a live performance only documentary: neither backstage “down time” nor candid personal shenanigans are included. What you see them do on stage is all there is. The bonus material comes in the form of a fairly recent interview with Mick Jagger, where Mick shares his memories of different aspects of the Stones’ career at that time (as Punk Rock was just on the cusp of breaking big) the Some Girls Tour in general, and the performance in Fort Worth specifically. While there were a few dissenters (read: Dicks) at the screening I attended who were clearly bored with Jagger’s banter and restless for the Big Rock Show to begin, I found the interview to be quite fun and charming. I mean, Mick-Fucking-Jagger! The guy’s been around practically since Rock & Roll was invented! Sure, sometimes he sounds like your grandfather telling stories about how things were “back in the old days,” but mostly he’s just such a fascinating and charismatic character, you can’t even guess at what he’ll say next. And that keeps it interesting! Even if he’s forgotten how many buckets of water he threw on the audience at the end of the show (spoiler alert, sorry), he’s lived more life in 68 years than most of us could even fantasize about. Mick Jagger!

The full Set List for that night in Fort Worth is as follows:

"Let It Rock"
"All Down the Line"
"Honky Tonk Women"
"Star Star"
"When the Whip Comes Down"
"Beast of Burden"
"Miss You"
"Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)"
"Shattered"
"Respectable"
"Far Away Eyes"
"Tumbling Dice"
"Happy"
"Sweet Little Sixteen"
"Brown Sugar"
"Jumpin' Jack Flash"

The Rolling Stones: Some Girls Live in Texas will be released on November 21, 2011 and can currently be pre-ordered for $10.99 (retail is $14.98) from Amazon.com at This Link.

Guest Author: Dawn Morgan

2011-11-07T06:53:00.001-05:00

Very rarely do you meet someone whose blog title so aptly defines who they are. My friend Dawn Morgan is truly a Tampa Do-Gooder, and for my money she is THE Tampa Do-Gooder.
I'm not kidding. All the stuff we're supposed to be (socially conscious, politically active, sincerely concerned with the welfare of others) and do (be nice to people, think beyond the spehere of one's own existence, recycle) she actually is and does!
She makes me sick.
I console myself with the knowledge that she isn't perfect, though (I've heard her cuss).
You can check out her do-goodings around Tampa at her site, Tampa Do-Gooder.

Sweet November

Am I the only sap who liked that movie? That & Thanksgiving make me a very appreciative person for all I have, even though I readily admit I ain't got much.

Currently what I own is stowed in six neat boxes, the most expensive item being the iPhone in my pocket, which I bought to entertain myself & my dedicated blog readers.

No matter, traveling light is the best way to go. And this weekend at my friend Jenn's wedding I was as light as could be.

One aspect of my life I have always been unsatisfied with is that I've always lacked friendships with deep roots. This began when I was a kid in a military family, moving every two years for my first 10 years. I was so shy that by the time I opened up, it was time to move again.

We ended up outside of Ft. Dix, NJ, and instead of moving in the early 90's as anticipated, my dad retired and I got to spend six years in one place, until my parents split my senior year of high school.

Ugh. My love of flannel and prior Pearl Jam obsession came in handy as a primer. To avoid both parental units, I moved in with my grandparents and spent that year at Cocoa High in Brevard County, Florida.

Up to that point, I had had no life whatsoever. I was a heavily sheltered and despondent youth who *tried* to be stimulated. But nothing worked: not cross country or lacrosse, musical theatre or even stepping. The latter definitely did not suit me, and other than my Mcjob (which this future Supersize Me fan hated even then), I didn't stick with anything.

After I moved to Florida, I had way *too* much life. I quickly found a circle of friends made of the most creative people I had ever met. Musicians, actors, artists and writers; every one of us a drama queen of galactic proportions. 99% of us came from broken homes but we were mostly good kids, despite the boys with long hair & girls who couldn't or wouldn't say no. We lived all over the county, from Titusville to Palm Bay, and traveled to each other for live music, parties, and the godforsaken live weekly sing-along’s to the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

My young adulthood continued to be full of missteps (heh) and ill-fitting choices. I moved a lot after senior year, briefly relocating back to Brevard County out of desperation a few times until my early 20's when I finally seemed free of Florida.

I came back to the state in 2005, this time to Tampa, and was distraught to be here because of what Florida represented to me: Fake lawns, friends and cold air and overpriced, manufactured happiness. Still at least it wasn't Brevard.

Tampa was by far a better fit than even Seattle had been for me. It was a place I could get my arms around, not too overwhelming like larger cities, with lots of like-minded folks.

I'd occasionally drive over to Brevard to see family and friends, and I came to appreciate the place, especially its beaches, definitely among my favorite in the country.

Yet I skipped my 10 year reunion a few years ago; the trauma of that one year of high school still hadn't left me. Also I felt I hadn't connected well enough with my classmates to make it worth going.

This past weekend at a wedding in Cocoa though, that all changed. There were a lot of former friends and frenemies from that old circle. We're still musicians and artists and writers despite the hardships of reality & making rent, and all grown up. I’m exponentially nicer, if only because of improved self esteem. I even re-bonded with the one guy in our group who ran off to get his MBA and went on to work for a big corporate bank. Opening one’s mind is so lovely. You can’t be much of a do-gooder unless you do.

Guest Author: Ellen Mueller

2011-11-05T06:48:00.000-04:00

"I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like" - Gelett Burgess

Me too, Gelett. And I like art that is playful, surprising and encourages interactivity, which is why my favorite artist is Ellen Mueller. I've had the pleasure and privilege of working under the direction of Ellen three times ("Complete With Illustrated Manual", "1st Annual Black & White Sustainability Mixer & Recognition Ceremony" and "The Waiting Room"), and each time, I had no idea where we were going but I knew it would be fun getting there. You can visit her web site at EllenMueller.com and her blog "Tracking An Artist". As far as I can tell, Ellen is travelling the world right now (I still have no idea where she's going). Some of her work will be on display at the Freyberger Gallery on the Penn State Berks campus in Reading, Pennsylvania from November 6th through December 15th. Also, this is another way she's spending her time these days...

So, what is an artist to do once they've left the confines of a school setting? How do they keep themselves motivated and pushing forward into new territory in the absence of assignments and homework? One answer: Postal Art Exchanges! These are small expressions (confined to the space of a postcard), that can help an artist push through a block or more deeply explore a theme. The attached images are ones I recently put together for an exchange. I recommend the practice. Email some artist friends, set a mailing deadline, and go!

A close call

2011-11-04T14:13:00.001-04:00

Judge Holder: Not even slightly amused.

I'm breathing easier right now than I was this morning.

A few weeks ago I received a very official looking envelope. Inside was an "ORDER TO SHOW CAUSE" which read

"YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO APPEAR before this Court to give any legal reason why this Court should not find you guilty of a violation of Florida Statute 40.23 and/or guilty of indirect criminal contempt for attempting to impair, hinder or obstruct the court in the administration of justice, or to lessen its authority or its dignity..."

Huh? Who, me?

It went on to say:

"...and as grounds therefore does allege the following:
Defendant (I'm a Defendant? I have to Defend myself?!?) was lawfully summoned to report for jury duty on Monday, October 3, 2011.
Defendant failed to appear for jury duty as required on Monday, October 3, 2011.
It is therefore ORDERED AND ADJUDGED that CLARK BROOKS (Ohmygod, I'm a Defendant!!) is to APPEAR before Judge Gregory P. Holder on November 4, 2011...to be arraigned and then and there to show cause why he/she should not be held in and punished for violation of Florida Statute 40.23 and/or indirect contempt of Court."

Holy...!!

Here's the thing: I never received the original summons. Why I received this one and not the original is a question I can't answer. I live in a large apartment complex and our mail getting mixed up is not an uncommon occurrence. For all I know, it's sitting there right now in some vacant apartment's mail slot. I have two envelopes for paychecks covered with all kinds of postal stickers and hand-stamps that didn't find their way to me in a timely fashion that I brought with me as evidence. As flimsy as that is, it's all I really had. That, and my personal integrity, for what that's worth. The fact of the matter is, I'm the son of a policeman who instilled in me at a very early age the importance of the criminal justice system in our society. I'm a veteran of the military. I've voted in every election I've been eligible for since I was able to vote. And I've responded to every jury summons I've ever received. The one time I was actually selected, I served as Foreman in a criminal trial that last two days. I actually kind of enjoy participating in the process and consider it a privilege to do so. In fact my first reaction upon opening the envelope (well, second reaction, after freaking the freak out) was disappointment over missing the opportunity to serve. Seriously. Maybe that makes me a weirdo but so be it.

I also know that being excused from jury duty is one of the easiest things to do and there are all kinds of legitimate ways to go about that. I've never done it but I know it doesn't take much. My point being that, all kidding aside, I take my civic responsibilities very seriously and I do my best to be a good citizen. And at the very, very least, I'm smart enough to not try to avoid something like this by simply blowing it off. Need further proof? Hell, just hunt around this very blog a little and you should have no trouble finding instances where I've happily documented worse/dumber things that I've done.

I was prepared to share all of that (minus the blog plug, maybe) with the Court this morning when I found myself in the company of hundreds of people who were there for the same reason. Apparently, close to 400 people didn't show up on October 3rd and most of them, including me, hadn't been properly excused. So there were 246 of us sitting in the courtroom at 8:30 this morning. I don't know if everybody had as much anxiety around it as I did, but I came in after several days of dread and anxiety and one completely sleepless night. As we sat there waiting for Judge Holder to enter, I picked up bits and pieces of conversation floating around me, none of which made me feel any better...

"...$100 fine..."

"...six months in jail..."

"...take you into custody, right on the spot..."

"...why yes, they are real..." Wait a minute, who said that?

Judge Holder entered, we did the Pledge of Allegiance and then he called up a guy on the list. Someone (not the guy, according to the guy) had called in on his behalf and said he should be excused because he's in the military...except he's not. Judge Holder ripped the guy up one side and down the other, detailing his own military service, that of his wife, his son and several other members of the Court. When he was done, he told what was left of the guy to sit down.

Me (silently, to myself): "Ooooohhhhhhhh, sssshhhhhhiiiiii..."

At that point, I was certain I was going to jail. No way was he going to buy my lame-but-true story. Immediately, my mind started racing: Who could I call to bail me out? Would I lose my job? Would I be in the paper? On tv? Would I need to challenge the biggest, baddest dude in the jail to a fight? I don't know how to make a shank OR toilet wine!

Luckily, right after that things settled down. Here's an account of what happened next from TBO.com:

Then Holder told James Johnson of Tampa to stand. Johnson had come to court with an attorney.
"I don't have a good excuse," Johnson said. "I forgot."
"At least you're honest enough to admit it," Holder said.
Holder asked how many of the failed jurors had forgotten to appear Oct. 3. Many raised their hands.
"I understand," said Holder, a judge for 17 years.
Nearly 400 jurors hadn't shown up Oct. 3, but many called with legitimate excuses and weren't required to come to court today.
Holder told the others that courts work to ensure people's rights are protected. Courts work to protect the community, he said.
People fight and die every day defending Constitutional freedom, he said.
"We rely upon you men and women to come into court for a brief period of time," he said. "We try to be efficient with respect to your time … This is your courthouse. You built it with your tax dollars."
Though some trials can last for weeks, Holder said he recently tried two jury trials in one week.
"We've become a McDonald's world," he said. "We want it our way.
"But folks, this country asks very little of you. The state asks very little of you. Vote and serve on juries."
Holder said he would like to improve the process for jury management. He wants the court system to send a response back letting people know when they are, in fact, excused from duty.
One juror told the judge she had changed her name and the court system had mailed her jury summons to the incorrect address.
Holder ordered those with identification with the wrong address on it to alert the Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles.
Another juror asked Holder if juror names come from voting records or driving records. He told her it hasn't been voting records for years; those rules were changed years ago to driving records so juries aren't comprised of "all elderly white folks."
Toward the end of his speech, Holder told the failed jurors that their punishment had been to come to court and listen to him.
He asked them if they wanted to go to jail.
They said no.
Asking if they wanted to reconsider, he said, "I did check. The menu includes bologna sandwiches and cheese."
Holder asked how many of the jurors would volunteer to serve on juries again.
They all raised their hands.
"I guarantee you you will be summoned," he said.

I guarantee you I will be checking my mail three times a day between now and then.

Guest Author: John Fontana

2011-11-04T06:54:00.001-04:00

John "Johnny Fonts" Fontana is one of the managing editors at Raw Charge.com, and is, in effect, my boss. Even if he weren't, I'd still be inclined to say good things about him. He's been covering the NHL's Tampa Bay Lightning for over seven years now but I've only been a high-maintenance pain in his ass for the last year and a half so we're still in the honeymoon phase. It helps that we have things in common, such as an appreciation for the Beatles and of course, Lightning hockey. And as bloggers who function both in and outside of the mainstream media, we both like to keep our eyes on trends taking place in the media. Here are some thoughts from John in the wake of the Tampa Tribune announcing that they are on the verge of cutting more costs, which means laying off even more staff.

I don’t know much of the long-time history of the Tampa Tribune. I have heard about days of yore when the Trib was a broader newspaper that reached out to more people across the region. There was a time when it was a force, when it’s writers and personalities held sway in both local and state happenings.

Of course, times have changed. The entire media landscape has changed. The common response when talking about print media troubles usually sounds like, “What’s a newspaper?”

The history of the Tampa Tribune that I’ve seen unfold before me over the past decade is the Tribune – with thanks to the influence of it’s corporate parent, Media General – and affiliated entities tied to it, cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-cut and cut some more. The cuts, early on, were fed to customers with the reasoning In Order To Serve You Better.

The only thing that the Tribune, WFLA TV, TBO.com (and other properties) are serving through substantial, repetive cuts in staff and coverage, is the corporate bottom line.

Richmond, Virginia based Media General has cooked up yet another restructuring in Tampa this week, because the last In Order To Serve You Better didn’t quite work out. Several of the head cheeses at the Media Center in downtown Tampa have been “re-assigned” (nicey-nice speak for shit-canned) in a falling-upwards kind of fashion that reminds me of politics of the recent past: You screw up, you get commended and potentially a medal because you did what was asked of you, even if it didn’t work.

With WFLA’s influence in local TV on the wane, with the Tribune’s cost-cutting antics destroying coverage and circulation, and with TBO’s inept layout that hides content and limits it’s exposure (and potential page views)… Well, this ain’t exactly serving anyone better except corporate management’s whims.

And while another truffle shuffle of corporate big wigs takes place, the promise of more staff cuts looms. I’m mortified at the thought of what cutbacks and layoffs are to come. The Tampa Tribune, WFLA, TBO, and all other parties tied to Media General’s interests in Tampa have been nipped and tucked so many times over the past decade that… Hell, I don’t even have a comparison to make.

Former editor Denise Palmer was throwing around the word Hyper-local during the last revamp and restructuring of the Tampa Tribune and Media Center operations. Now? A memo informing employees of the staff changes this week said focus should be on “the core market” where most of the circulation is based. In laymans terms, in order to serve themselves better, the plan is to focus on Tampa alone and stress where they sell the most newspapers. They just said it this time without buzzwords.

In essence, Media General’s plan is to make sure the Tampa Tribune and Media Center operations further contract to small-time status, comparable to other assets owned in the south by the company – small market TV stations and newspapers.

Is that really the wisest course of action in the 14th ranked media market in America?

For a long time, the wisest thing Media General could have done for itself would have been to dump what was once known as their “crown jewel” in the Tampa Tribune/WFLA/TBO property, not because it was junk but because it held value while the company didn’t know how to effectively manage it. That’s still the best course of action. The region is too big for rinky-dink direction.

Of course, no one is buying newspapers these days – that’s the rub. Someone would have to go out on a limb to make an investment in a property like the Media Center and it’s media entities within.

Whatever the case, I’m most worried about the staff that remains on right now at the Media Center. Everything is once again on the chopping block In Order To Serve You Better. And good employees will once again be sent packing with cuts because management doesn’t have a clue what to do besides contract a major metropolitain news organization into a neighborhood leaflet.

Guest Author: Julia Gorzka Freeman

2011-11-03T14:07:00.000-04:00

Today's submission is an invitation to what sounds like a pretty cool event, forwarded to us from someone who's tapped into all the cool happenings in Tampa Bay, Julia Gorzka Freeman. You can visit her website at www.juliagorzka.com. She's one of the most genuinely nice people I know and once you're connected to Julia, you're pretty much connected to everybody.

Ruby C. Williams Annual Gathering
Saturday, November 5th * 11:00 a.m.
Ruby hosts an Annual Gathering at her fruit and vegetable stand in Plant City where she puts together a program thanking God for her year and harvest, singing hymns, enjoying speakers and feeding the masses. She spends days cooking BBQ ribs and chicken, greens, squash, cornbread and other farm-rich southern comfort food! The program and the food are all complimentary but donations are appreciated, plus there will be art and farm-fresh produce for salse, so bring some cash.
Here's a note from Ruby:

"We are asking each of you to please bring a fan, a friend, or family member. We will be giving away great art and this will contribute to help me fund the gallery we need to repair a place to put the art. Our plan is to set The Art Haven up outside with lot of good art. etc Plenty of Fresh Farm Food this year from Ruby. Our farm goal is $10,000 now and in a few more month we will Fund Drive to raise more. It good that people want us to keep the old stand. (smile) But it need work now Free dinner after program All you can eat fresh vegetables Love Ruby C."

There's more info about Ruby at her web site

Ruby's Annual Gathering, 15th Anniversary

Nov 5, 2011 * 11:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m.

2001 Highway 60 E. Plant City FL 33567

Tune in TONIGHT!

2011-11-02T18:12:00.001-04:00

Back on September 23rd, I said I was going to quit gratuitously plugging my endeavors. I'm going to take a brief break from that policy to tell you about "Blue Thunder", an internet radio show that's part of the SB Nation network. It's a live, hour-long call-in show on Wednesdays at 8 p.m. (Eastern time) dedicated to talk about the NHL's Tampa Bay Lightning. Oh yeah, and I'm on it, representing Raw Charge.
Now, you may not care about me or the Tampa Bay Lightning or hockey or radio shows or the internet (is it me or is the concept of "internet radio" sort of like "coal-burning Mars rover"?), but I'm hoping you decide to tune in (and call!) anyway. Because if last week's test run is an indicator, tonight's show could be great, godawful or just kind of all right, and if you're one of these post-modern hipsters who finds comedy in the awkward, those are all the same thing.

Blue Thunder

Wednesdays, 8:00 pm (Eastern)

http://sbnationtampabaylive.com/

Boom! Hockey talk! From your computer!

Guest Author: Ronny Elliott

2011-11-02T06:52:00.033-04:00

Tampa's own Ronny Elliott has mixed it up with some true legends of rock 'n roll: Van Morrison, the Dave Clark Five, Chuck Berry, Dion, Bo Diddley, Joe Ely, Patti Smith, the Coasters, Gene Vincent, the Allman Brothers, Kasey Chambers and Sly & the Family Stone among others. He even opened for Jimi Hendrix. That's enough degrees of seperation removed for me to be able to show up unannounced at Paul McCartney's house for Thanksgiving dinner, don't you think? Check out Ronny's stories from his career as a self-described hillbilly soul singer and much, much more at his blog, ronnyelliott.

Suicide always seemed weird and dumb to me. Mean, too. I suppose that I always thought of it as a concept for losers and crazy folks. The first time that I ever had the blues so bad that I didn't think that I could stand it I changed my mind. Now I question the judgement of anyone who claims never to have considered the idea. Have you never loved? Don't you know about a broken heart? Have you never listened to George Jones fercrissakes?

Hug more people. Tell all of your friends that you love them. Visit the neighbor who appears to be lonely. Drop in at any nursing home and just wander the hallways speaking to the ones that you run into up and down the corridors.

Remember that cousin who got angry for some reason way back? Call her. Apologize. It doesn't really matter what happened. Who cares?

Send someone flowers.

Head down to Occupy Tampa and tell those brave souls how much you appreciate what they're doing on our behalf. While you're there, approach one of the police officers and introduce yourself. Tell him that you know how tough his job is and that you understand the difficult position that they're put in by the protests. Show them the same love and respect and gratitude that you have offered up to the protesters.

Surely, if there is any cure for the blues, handing out all your coupons for love must be it. I love you all. A lot.

Welcome to guest author month!

2011-11-01T08:25:00.002-04:00

Last year I took the month of November off to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Rather than just leave this site sitting dormant, I recruited guest authors to fill in. If you want to check that out, click right here.
I'm not doing NaNoWriMo this year but because it was so popular with you guys, I am going to dedicate the month to guest authors again this year. I knew people liked it but wasn't sure how much until I had this exchange with a friend:

"So I think I'm going to do the guest author thing in November again"
"Oh good, I really liked that!"
"Yeah. Hey, have you read any of my stuff lately?"
"Ummm..."

Yeah, so consider this a wish granted. It all starts tomorrow. There will be some people who participated last year plus some new ones. It should be a lot of fun.

This IS my costume

2011-10-31T07:00:00.001-04:00

I'm a big guy. There's no way around that. That's just the way it is. I generally don't complain but sometimes it makes things difficult. One of those things being Halloween.
If you look for "big & tall" stuff at a costume store, options are pretty limited.

That's about it.

If you try to put a costume together yourself, you put yourself at risk for considerable ridicule, especially if you want to go as any kind of recognizable pop culture icon.
Elvis? You're fat Elvis.
Indiana Jones? You're fat Indiana Jones.
Darth Vader? You're the guy who ate Darth Vader.
Batman? Go ahead and make the obvious punchline yourself.

The point is, I find it best to abandon the whole pop culture scene and look to areas more philisophical and existential for inspiration. Personally relevant and easy to do are factors also. As a result, THIS is my Halloween costume this year...

Get it?

I feel pretty

2011-10-28T06:40:00.003-04:00

This is a photo I took of my reflection in what's left of a mirror inside of a portable toilet.
What I thought was notable about this, and worthy of documentation in pictures and words, isn't that the mirror inside of a portable toilet is all jacked up...it's that there's a mirror inside of a portable toilet. Because there are certain very specific circumstances under which you will ever find yourself in a portable toilet. Those being that, obviously, you're involved in some sort of outdoor activity (like attending a music festival or you're working on a construction site) and you're ~~not drunk enough~~ far too civilized to just do your business in a plot of weeds or behind a tree. Regardless, primping is not really something you're concerned about. You probably don't think you need to check your mascara before rejoining the mosh pit and/or cement mixing action. And yet, the manufacturers of portable toilets want you to look your absolute best after you finish peeing and pooping into their fetid tubs of toxic chemicals.
I think that's nice.

Anon and on

2011-10-26T06:53:00.001-04:00

The undergorund collective of "hacktivists" known as Anonymous has set their sites on those who distribute and peruse child pornography on the internet. You can read more about that here and/or also watch their video message embedded below.

For what it's worth, I find the things that Anonymous does entertaining. It doesn't hurt that I find many of their targets (Scientology, the Westboro Baptist Church and yes, child pornography) as reprehensible as they do. So there has been more than one occassion when I've read about how their antics have created havoc for their foes and I've pumped my fist and cheered in support. Hell yes, go get 'em, Anonymous!

Still, there's part of me that kind of feels like mere mortals of Metropolis probably do when they wonder, "what if Superman got bored?". In other words, what if Anonymous does what they do as much to entertain themselves as they do out of a sense of righteous indignation and in the spirit of fighting for truth, justice and the Internet way? It's not that I doubt their sincerity at face value, but cheering for Anonymous sometimes feels a little like cheering for Hannibal Lecter: sure, their victims have it coming, but who's to say that I don't have it coming?

That said, I'd just like to tell any members of Anonymous who might happen to stumble across this site - I'm a fan of your work; please don't shut down my humble repository of fart jokes.

Everybody hates The Piano Man

2011-10-24T06:28:00.002-04:00

9:00 PM
On a Saturday.

"Hey, is Bill playing tonight?"
"Yeah, he is. He's great, isn't he?
"He sure is. He sure is. Woo! Piano man, you rock!"

La la la, di da da
La la, di di da da dum

"Yeah, that's the stuff. Pure gold!"
"He's got us feelin' all right!"

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free...

"Wait, what? Why does he get free drinks?"
"Bill, what are you doing? You're gonna get me fired!"

...But there's some place that he'd rather be
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me."
As his smile ran away from his face
"Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place"

"A movie star? Haw haw!"
"Hey, George Clooney, quit giving away drinks. Otherwise, I can easily arrange for you to be some place else, movie star."
"Damn it, Bill, I told you that in confidence..."

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife...

"Umm, I thought everybody knew Paul was gay."

...And he's talkin' with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life

"Holy shit, Davy is gay! I knew it! I told you guys! I knew it! I knew it!"
"Huh? No, I'm not!"
"Are you ashamed of me, Davy?"
"Shut up, Paul. This is not the time or place for this."

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessman slowly gets stoned
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinkin' alone

"Christ, this is a downer."
"Geez, no kidding. This sucks. You guys want to go to Chili's?"
"Where are you guys going? We got two-for-one! Two dollars off all appetizers! Come on!"
"Screw this. We're outta here."

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me they've been comin' to see
To forget about their life for a while...

"Oh, get bent, piano man."

Surreally?

2011-10-21T07:16:00.001-04:00

This is a picture I took where I work, at the St. Pete Times Forum.
Last night, on this surface, a professional ice hockey game was played, right here in Tampa, Florida. The hard-working people you see in this photo will have spent the night covering that surface with plastic grass so that women in their underwear can play football on it tonight.
When real life is filled with circumstances this bizarre, who needs drugs?

What are we looking at here?

2011-10-19T07:08:00.001-04:00

This is Marine Corps Sgt. Shamar Thomas, verbally confronting New York City police officers and questioning their purpose and sense of honor in dealing with the Occupy Wall Street situation...

Are we witnessing the birth of a post-modern folk hero or just the latest viral video sensation? Personally, I don't know what to make of this. It's five and a half minutes of video. I don't know what happened before the cameras started rolling, I don't know anything about Sgt. Thomas's background, I don't even think I have a real good grasp on what the Occupiers are trying to accomplish. At any rate, I certainly don't have enough info to form an opinion on what, if anything, this means. Would a young Bob Dylan have written a song about Sgt. Thomas or is he going to end up yet another YouTube punchline? Are these "Occupations" truly organic expressions of unrest and discord, signalling a return to activism and social change or is it a bunch of misguided and disorganized would-be hippies nostalgiac for a lost childhood that occurred 20 years or more before they were even born? Or is the truth somewhere in the middle, like it usually is? Is there even such a thing as "middle" anymore? I guess we'll find out.

A short conversation about kidding around with your buddy

2011-10-17T07:03:00.004-04:00

"Hey, you know how we're always joking around, insulting each other, calling each other names?"

"Ha ha! Yeah, you fag. What about it?"

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I actually am gay."

"..."

"It's no big deal. You're my friend and I know you never say it with malice. I just thought you should know."

"Wow. I had no idea. Should I..should I apologize?"

"No, I'm not mad. I was just letting you know for the sake of context going forward. I figured that it was better for me to say something to you than have you find out and maybe feel awkward about it. That's totally unnecessary, because as I said, it's really no big deal. Honestly."

"I kind of...I don't know. This is...um. I don't know what to do now."

"Well, for starters, try not to be such a fag about it."

This is glue. Strong stuff.

2011-10-14T07:28:00.001-04:00

In case you've been reading this for a while and haven't figured it out yet, I am what is commonly referred to as "a stupid person." If you're thinking, "Oh, he's so humble; I just love his self-deprecating sense of humor and how it makes me want to make out with him!", let me assure you that I'm not kidding, unless you're serious about the making out, in which case, I might be. If you're not thinking that and need an illustration as proof of what I'm saying, I'll just offer this...

The other day, I noticed my shoe was falling apart. The way I "noticed" this was after the third or fourth time I nearly fell flat on my face after tripping over something hanging off the bottom of it (this isn't necessarily the part where you can go ahead and conclude how stupid I am, but if you're in a hurry, it'll do). Eventually deciding that this situation was untenable, I sat down and took a look at what was going on. A big chunk of the sole had torn and was nearly three quarters off, flopping around dangerously every time I took a step. It's either a miracle or a testament to my inherent grace and athletic ability that I didn't face-plant several times...probably a miracle.
On the way home, I stopped at Wal Mart to get something for dinner and some super-strength adhesive to fix the shoe. People like to criticize Wal Mart, but seriously, where else can you stop and resolve two disparate issues like that at the same time? I found some stuff that came in an aluminum tube, labeled "Bonding Agent". It cost $7, more than other glue-like substances with far less serious sounding names (like "glue) and roughly half the price of a brand new pair of shoes (I never said they were nice shoes), and I was in business.
The back of the package was covered in teeny-tiny instructions, but I couldn't think of one good reason why I would need to put in a half hour of reading before operating glue. So I sat down on my bed, popped it open and smeared some between the sole and whatever you would call the part between that and what your foot goes into. I pressed the parts together and held them firmly and then put the shoe down. That's when I realized I had bonding agent (not mere glue) on my two fingers and they were stuck together. My mind went off at 100 mph in at least as many directions. Oh no. My fingers would be stuck together forever. I started to reach for a towel and realized my fingers would be stuck together and to a towel forever. I went to put my hand on the dresser and immediately visualized my hand glued...no, bonded!...permanently to the biggest piece of furniture I own. My body wouldn't be found for months (because honestly, who would even notice I was missing for at least that long?) and when they broke down the door, they'd find a skeleton with his bony hand glued to a dresser. It would be labeled "weirdest suicide ever" because there's no way a medical examiner would imagine anybody dumb enough to die that way otherwise. Yep, too stupid to even earn the description of "accidental death". That's when my survival instinct kicked in. Maybe I could get out of it by gnawing away at the dresser. Maybe over the course of several days I could chew off the chunk my hand was glued to and go to a hospital. Maybe, if it came down to it, I could actually chew off my own fingers. People have done worse to survive calamity like this, right? Oh god, I bet they'll taste terrible. When was the last time I washed my hands? I don't even remember! Not to mention it's going to hurt like a bitch. Maybe when it's all said and done, I can make a couple bucks off of being a motivational speaker, bravely telling others about my harrowing ordeal and how they can apply my story to their efforts to sell more car insurance. "Yeah", I thought, "I'm sure there's a huge market for people teaching life lessons by surviving their own stupid mishaps". Way to compound a stupid occurrence with an even stupider fantasy about the resolution and aftermath. As I sat there, becoming more and more panicked (I hadn't touched the dresser or anything else yet, but it was just a matter of time), one last desperate idea entered the raisin-sized brain-like thing rolling aimlessly around the inside of my cavernous skull: maybe, just maybe, I could stand up without touching anything, go in the bathroom and try to wash my hands.
Which is what I did.
And the "bonding agent" rinsed right off.
It didn't work on the shoe either.
And I didn't get my money back from Wal Mart because I lost the receipt.

A Budget-Conscious Tourist's Tale

2011-10-12T06:32:00.003-04:00

The movie "A Dolphin's Tale" has been in theatres now for three weeks, last week grossing over $9 million in ticket sales, proving once again that people love dolphins! Whether they're the subject of a family film or playing the game of football really badly, folks just can't get enough of the shiny, bottle-nosed fish-mammals. It's no surprise that one of the most popular tourist attractions popping up at vacation spots are dolphin encounters, your chance to actually swim with the lovable scamps of the sea. These places use this kind of verbiage in their ads...

"Imagine an exchange of looks; a gaze full of liberty and love. That is the beginning of an unforgettable experience in Puerto Aventuras beside marine friends, the dolphins. During the Dolphin Encounter ® program, you and your family will have the opportunity to receive all the affection of these tender and playful animals that always seem to smile.Imagine an exchange of looks; a gaze full of liberty and love. That is the beginning of an unforgettable experience in Puerto Aventuras beside marine friends, the dolphins. During the Dolphin Encounter ® program, you and your family will have the opportunity to receive all the affection of these tender and playful animals that always seem to smile. In this swim with dolphins program your kids will be able to enjoy safe and fun activities that Dolphin Discovery Puerto Aventuras has specially designed for all ages. Doesn’t matter if you are 1 or 80 years...Your new friend will give you unlimited love, he will give you a Handshake, he will Sing and Hug, you will be able to pet him and swim in a place that he and his other dolphin friends call “home”: the Mexican Caribbean."

Hmmm, seem familiar?

Sounds pretty great, right? Well, even if you get past the fact that in spite of some marketing department's efforts to convince you that dolphins are just hanging around and learning tricks so you'll come and rescue them from being lonely and that they aren't wild animals, you're looking at a cost of anywhere from $90 to $200 each for a half hour of encounter time. Ouch! (that's the noise you'll make when you see your credit card statement...and also if you're violated by a 12" prehensile dolphin penis).
That's why I'm introducing (just in time for the winter tourist season here in Florida)...

Clark Brooks' Dog Encounter!

Imagine an exchange of looks; a gaze that says, "Hey, you got anything to eat? No? That's cool. But maybe later, we can get something to eat? Think about it; because I will be". That is the beginning of an unforgettable experience in Tampa, Florida, where you'll re-connect with Man's Best Friend, the dogs. During the Dog Encounter ® program, you and your family will have the opportunity to receive all the affection of these tender and playful animals that always seem hungry. In this swim with dogs program your kids will be able to enjoy safe and fun activities that Clark Brooks's Dog Encounter ® has specially designed for all ages. Doesn’t matter if you are 1 or 80 years...Your new friend will chase a tennis ball, he will give you a Handshake, he will chase a tennis ball, he will chase a tennis ball, you will be able to pet him and swim in a place that he and his other dog friends call “the causeway on the way to Clearwater, because Tampa actually doesn't have any beaches and all the 'nice' beaches generally don't allow dogs anyway”: the Courtney Campbell Causeway (connecting Tampa and Clearwater, because the dogs are right), between the Chevy van with some dude sleeping in it and a pile of broken beer bottles. All this for a mere fraction of what a session with dolphins would cost. Say, I don't know, $5? We'll work it out.
NOTE: Please allow at least two hours notice before booking your encounter, so I can round up some tennis balls. And a dog.

Why this generation of Americans sucks

2011-10-10T06:52:00.014-04:00

The other day, I was at the local K-Mart. On the way out, I glanced at the coin-op vending machines near the exit doors and saw this...

Tabletop footballs? Pre-made and for sale in a machine? Cripes.
There are so, so many things wrong here, so many things symptomatic of what is wrong with us as a society.

Let's start with the fact that tabletop football, like the wildly popular sport of NASCAR, has roots in illegal activity. The original stock car racers were bootleggers, running moonshine and trying not to get caught by the law. The original tabletop football players were juvenile delinquents, goofing off during class and trying not to get caught by teachers. I suspect in the case of tabletop football, that's still probably the case. Nobody ever played it at home. Why would you? In my day (I'm very elderly, as clearly evidenced by the phrasing at the beginning of this sentence), if you were at home and wanted to play football, you went outside and played football.

Or maybe this.

Now, I'm sure kids that want to play football at home fire up their Xbox or whatever home video gaming system is currently popular (again, I am very, very elderly). Either way, kids don't play tabletop football at home any more than criminals spend all day lifting weights when they get out of prison.

"I'd rather be raping"

That's because tabletop football was/is something to do when you're not interested in participating in what you're supposed to be doing. My point: Why is the NFL encouraging delinquent behavior? Tabletop football in social studies class today, boosting stereo equipment to feed a meth habit tomorrow. Thank you, corporate sponsorship!

Secondly, a store-bought tabletop football, with or without an NFL team's logo embossed on it, is equal parts pathetic and ostentatious. Have we just accepted the notion that kids in other countries are so fundamentally superior to ours that we've just given up? Forget math, spelling and science; American kids are so stupid that we don't think they're capable of figuring out how to fold a piece of paper into the shape of a triangle. Screw it, we're Americans! Even our poor people still have enough money to spend some on stupid shit. We'll just go to the store and buy one...which was probably made in one of the countries where the kids kick our asses.

Third, there's the unnecessary, gratuitous use of profanity to promote the sale of these things.

Oh, wait. It says "FLICK it", not...never mind. Hmm, I wonder if there's one with a Buccaneers logo in there?

You can't make this stuff up...well, you CAN, but you shouldn't

2011-10-07T06:52:00.008-04:00

The other night on the way home, I stopped at a 7-Eleven to get some gas. I also needed to put fuel in my car but the main reason I went there is because I wanted a 7-Eleven Big Bite hot dog. I went up to the counter and informed the clerk that I wanted one... "Do you want it on a (unintelligible; might have been "rat", "raft", "wrap" or something else)?"
"Huh?"
"On a (same thing; seriously, I have no idea)"
"Umm..."
"It's what I call a bun."
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I want it on a bun."

First of all, of course I want it on a bun. Why would I not want it on a bun? It's a hot dog. How else would I want it, stir-fried and served over noodles? Am I supposed to believe that people walk into convenience stores, ask for a hot dog but say, "hold the bun, just hand it over" and then walk down the street munching away on it like a candy bar? Okay, I can believe that probably does happen. But not often enough for it to be something the clerk needs to ask about.
Secondly, what the hell are you talking about? Did you say "rat"? Because that's what it most sounded like. Where and why did you come up with that? If it's because of an incident that happened in this store, I don't want to know...yes, I still want the hot dog though. Don't judge me,
Third, who are you, that you think you can just invent brand-new slang terms for things that have existed for centuries?
Three A, how do you expect anyone else to be familiar with a slang term that you invented and that only you use? Can I pay for it in farts? Oh, "farts" are what I call "money" and I'm the only person in the world who does this. As a result, many servers in restaurants insist that I not tip them.

As might be seen on TV

2011-10-05T07:08:00.016-04:00

The other day, I heard through an indirect source that a friend of mine had appeared in a local television commercial. Of course, I got very excited and contacted my friend right away. This is what happened next:

"You're in a commercial?"
"Yes! Wow, did you see it?"
"No. I read about it on Facebook."
"That figures."
"Is it a lawyer commercial? Do you have lines in it? Should I be in the next one?"
"No, it has nothing to do with lawyers. No, I don't have any lines in it. No, there isn't going to be a next one. I did it for a client of mine who..."
"Mmm-hmm, mm-hmm. So what you're saying is yes, I should have a speaking part in the next lawyer commercial. Let me think about it; okay, sure, I'll do it."
"..."
"Hi! Clark Brooks here for the law company!"
"Why...do you think it has anything whatsoever to do with lawyers? Because it doesn't. At all."
"Do you need some laws to sue somebody? Do you want some so you don't get sued? Do you like pizza? Of course you do! Everybody likes pizza and is suing somebody!"
"I kind of wish you had seen the commercial because it doesn't have anything to do with pizza either..."
"I will, of course, be dressed as a pizza chef, twirling some pizza dough in front of a brick oven. I feel like that's a really strong visual that will resonate with the criminals and low-lifes you're trying to reach."
"Low-lifes??"
"Hi! Clark Brooks here. Do you make bad decisions that hurt innocent people? Would you rather hire a lawyer than stop doing that? Come on down to the law company or whatever and we'll talk about it over a slice of pizza!"
"That's...really something."
"Then I'll mumble something really fast about how the spokesman is not an actual lawyer nor a pizza chef and certainly has no intention of sitting down to talk with low-lifes about their criminal activities. Like a disclaimer."
"Of course. I can't wait to propose it to my client who isn't a lawyer and is not making another commercial. I'm sure it will be a hit."

So we all have that to look forward to.

Get back or get a head

2011-10-03T07:17:00.006-04:00

If you watched ABC's 'Good Morning America' last week you might have learned about the latest hot trend in plastic surgery, what's being called "The Pippa Butt Lift". Inspired by Pippa Middleton, Kate's sister, and how smokin' hot she looked at this summer's Royal Wedding (a brief aside: DAYUM!!), it's basically a procedure that involves liposucking fat out of your body where there's too much of it and re-injecting it into another part of your body that needs a little help. In this case, into your pancake-flat white girl booty. Well, there's more to it than that, but that's the short version.
This is, of course, excellent. Finally, science has done something worthwhile! It's a form of recycling and who's to say that we shouldn't be able to re-zone our property and re-distribute the ASSets (see what I did there? Wordplay!) as we see fit?
I'm all for it! I've been thinking about it, and I think what I'd like is some fat sucked out of my butt. Not so much that it loses it's shapely charm but enough to create a second, somewhat smaller novelty head which would then be grafted on to my back, between my shoulders, right behind my current head. This is officially the best idea for cosmetic improvement I've ever had, topping the one I had of having a more handsome person's face tattooed on my face and even the one I had of having my own face tattooed on my face, but slightly off center in the hope that The Blurry Look would eventually become popular. But a second head is infinitely more practical, just from a security standpoint alone. No more sneaking up on me! Granted, second head may not always care for the view, especially when attending a movie or concert or sporting event:
"Hey, what's going on up there? This sucks. I can't see a thing."
"Shut up, fat head. I'm guessing your view is about 100% better than it was a week ago when you were in my butt."
Of course, there would be no retort to that because every single word of that sentence would be true. And that's how I like my supplemental body parts; not running their mouths...even if they have one.

A real friend

2011-10-02T00:18:00.000-04:00

I learned something about true friendship tonight that I would like to share with you in the form of a quick story...
There are extensive renovations taking place where I work right now. We're talking about MAJOR construction, with entire portions of the building being completely torn down and re-built. To chronicle this, they've placed a time-lapse camera to capture the process and it runs around the clock. When it's all over they'll have a pretty cool sped-up video documenting how it all went from old to new.
It's startling how so many of my best ideas really aren't even good ones. I have ideas all the time, none of which address the various forms of suffering going on in the world at a given moment. Nope, these are ideas on a much, much smaller scale: things that amuse me. One of my latest has to do with the fact that I know where the time-lapse camera at work is. And my idea is to stand in front of it, as motionless as possible for about 20 minutes or so, so that when the renovation is complete and people watch the video, I pop up just long enough for people to say, "what...did I just see?". And the answer would be me, with a stupid smile on my face, saying "hello!". All I really need to pull it off would be a ladder and somebody keeping lookout. I brought this idea up to my friend and asked what she thought and her reply was, "I really think there is great potential for growth opportunities for you there in the future and I would like to see you in position to take advantage of them."

The moral of the story is, sometimes in life, you will have dreams and aspirations that need to be crushed and snuffed out before somebody...probably you...gets hurt. Not every balloon you blow up deserves to soar off into the wild blue yonder. Some balloons need to be punctured before they can get loose, spread out and breed. If you're fortunate, you have at least one friend who can deflate your bad balloons. If you're really fortunate, they'll do it by gently squeezing all the air out of it instead of just jamming a pin into it.

Every day I'm hustlin'

2011-09-30T07:25:00.001-04:00

I have a new job but until the checks are rolling in regularly and I dig myself out of the hole I'm in as a result of being out of work for a while, I'm hustling for money anywhere I can find it. By hustling, I mean working hard and keeping my eyes open for opportunities that may present themselves in a non-traditional fashion. I'm not talking about anything illegal, certainly not ripping anyone off. People often confuse hustlers for con-men but that's not a valid association. Hustling is something you do for yourself, not to someone else.
In an attempt to make ends meet and get some cash coming in, I went out and got a Public Vehicle Driver's License and have been driving a taxi cab. It's a business made for hustlers in that you can make money if you know how to hustle and are williing to do it. I do and I am. Also, I'll admit there was a certain bohemian appeal to being a writer/cab driver. Sort of like Harry Chapin or even better, George Carlin.
"What?!? Why are we just now hearing about this?", you may be asking. Well, I've had drunks and strippers and various oddballs in my cab so far, but I was waiting for something really blog-worthy to happen.
The other night, something really happened.
One of the key components to being a successful cab driver (I've learned some of these lessons very quickly; that's how hustlers hustle, baby) is repeat customers. They call you directly and not the cab company, giving you direct access to the fare instead of having to compete for it with some other jamokes trying to outhustle you. As a result, I've given my phone number out to a lot of people and it has paid off, as a lot of those people have called me back. One of those people, we'll call her Lisa since that's her name, calls me very late at night and wants me to take her to people's houses and wait out in front. I don't know what goes on inside but I have my suspicions. She tried to tell me once but I cut her off, telling her if I don't know about it now, I don't have to lie about it later. As long as she keeps it to herself, limits my involvement to 100% legal activity and isn't hurting anyone else, I'll keep my mouth shut. Is that bad? Maybe a little morally ambiguous? Probably. Kind of feels that way and I don't particularly like it, but I'm trying to dig myself out of a financial hole here. Desperate times and all that...
Any way, the other night she called and I took her to one of her places, a house in a not-great neighborhood. This time, she wanted me to pull up with the lights off and kill the engine the second we pulled in the driveway. Now, in spite of my commitment to ignorance, I'm not totally stupid. And without trying to porray myself as a character in a Scorsese film, I have enough street-smarts to recognize and respond appropriately to the alarm bells in my head when a sketchy situation presents itself. I told her the only way I was doing that was if I parked on the street. I was absolutely not going to box myself in somebody's driveway with the engine killed. She didn't like it and got all fidgety (she's always kind of fidgety anyway) but wasn't going to change my mind. She got out, I turned the car off (with the keys in hand but not in the ignition...leaving the key in can drain the battery over time; it usually takes a while but I wasn't willing to take that chance) and sat there with my window open as she went inside the house. Almost immediately I heard the "FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP" of footsteps on pavement, in a dead sprint heading right for me. Before I could do anything at all, a guy blasted past and into the backyard of the house I was parked in front of. Immediately following him, I heard the racing motor and squealing tires of a car in hot pursuit. At that exact moment I had no idea who was in the car but it turned out to be cops. One got out and chased the guy while the driver kept going to the end of gthe block in an attempt (I guess) to seal off exits in case they lost him. That was followed by more police officers, with flak jackets and drawn guns descending on the house. Also, there was suddenly a helicopter overhead. It was like something out of a movie. I sat there the whole time, being cool, a fortunate by-product of being frozen. I was glad it was cops on the scene, running around with their guns drawn, although not completely at ease as guns drawn is the standard precurosr to bullets flying (I don't care for flying bullets because of the way they often stop flying) and also, I don't need the hassle of being questioned about my involvement, even though I have no involvement. If asked, I'd have cheerfully and honestly answered every question they had but did not want to end up doing so 'downtown'. Thankfully, they ignored me. Lisa, understandably, didn't come out of the house for a long time. When she did, she made a beeline to the cab and we got out of there as discretely fast as possible. She didn't say a word the whole way back to her apartment which was good because I wasn't in the mood to talk. She paid the fare, got out and went inside.
I haven't seen her since, although she did call me four times last night between 3 and 4 AM, calls I didn't answer. I also haven't driven the cab since, as now I'm a little freaked out. Being killed in a drug shootout is a part of that, although, honestly, what are the odds (albeit, whatever they are, they get a little better every time I take someone like that to a place like that)? At least I can still maintain at least a small modicum of control in situations like that. A bigger part is that I don't know what my culpability is in situations where illegal activity is taking place. If I get pulled over and my passenger is carrying drugs, what happens to me? That's something I can't control and I'll be damned if I'm going to jail, even if I get right out, for something stupid that somebody else does without my knowledge.
Bottom line is I don't know when or if I'll drive again (it won't be until after I get crystal clear answers to my questions from a police officer, I'll tell you that much) so I'm left looking for another angle to hustle.

What are you trying to tell me?

2011-09-28T07:08:00.008-04:00

A lot of people try to get my attention by leaving things on my door. Pizza or Chinese food take-out menus, coupons for carpet cleaning and sometimes, MESSAGES OF DIRE SPIRITUAL SIGNIFICANCE!
For example, I came home the other day and this glossy little flyer was wedged between my door and frame:

Oh no! What should I do! I'd better...well, I don't know what to do exactly. It looks serious and like something that requires my full and immediate attention, but this part throws me:

Of course it's serious; jaunty angle aside,
just look at the size of that exclamation point!

I don't know what that means. The fact that it's described as vicious certainly lets me know that there's an imminent threat attached to it, but I don't know what a cicle is. Some possibilities:

It's C.I.C.L.E. (Cyclists Inciting Change thru Live Exchange) - Described on their web site as "We are a Los Angeles based not-for-profit helping riders of all ages and skill levels use bicycles for everyday transportation. We believe that bicycling can improve our health, build community, save us money, and protect our environment …all while being fun!". I don't find that the least bit threatening. In fact, that's the opposite of threatening. It certainly isn't vicious. That can't be it.
It's a font that looks like this:

Also non-threatening. If kidnappers used this font in a ransom note, their victims wouldn't pay the ransom but they might send over some cookies and juice boxes.

It's short for Icicle, shortened either in hip-hop fashion (like how "neighborhood" becomes "hood") or by somebody in a hurry who just doesn't have time to say or print a third syllable. Now, icicles can be very heavy and sharp which would qualify as at least dangerous if not actually threatening (unless used as a weapon, otherwise they're just kind of...pretty). But this is Florida, where it's 90 in October. If someone were to wield one as a weapon, all you'd have to do is keep your distance for about 10 minutes, long enough for nature to render him disarmed and soaking wet.

So, sorry. Unless International Conference Speaker Pastor Paul Stephens explains what's going on here, or at least hires a proof reader, I'm going to sit this one out.

Coffee talk

2011-09-26T07:09:00.003-04:00

I learned the practice of hanging out in diners at a young age. My parents used to let me tag along on their visits to the local Big Boy, where they knew all of the staff and many of the patrons. Rather than being bored by sitting around and listening to adults talk, I embraced it. That's probably where I first developed not only my appreciation for coffee but also what I like to believe are finely-honed people-observing skills. Not just people watching...anybody can do that...but serious observation. It is indeed a skill. That, plus the added benefits of being allowed to loiter for about $2 plus the opportunity to participate in the rapidly disappearing art of conversation with actual flesh-and-blood human beings and you have a pretty nice form of entertainment.
Last night, I found myself at Pop n Son's, one of Tampa's oldest established 24-hour diners, a true greasy spoon in the classic sense. My date and I wound up there because we were looking for a place to loiter and talk. We've both lived in the Tampa Bay area for some time and we were comparing notes about how the place had changed over the years. Restaurants, nightclubs, stores and stuff that have come and gone. As we were talking, a man in the booth behind me turned and said, "I wasn't eavesdropping but I heard you mention...". Under diner/coffee shop standards of etiquette, this was a perfectly acceptable way to invite himself into the conversation so he could share with us his own unique memories of days and places gone by. Not wanting to violate those standards of etiquette ourselves, we gladly welcomed him. Truth is, I was thrilled that an unintentional eavesdropper wanted to join our conversation. I love my usual coffee hangout, the oft-mentioned Tre Amici @ The Bunker, but there's something very old-fashioned and all-American...in a good way...about finding yourself out late, sitting in an all-night diner, with a waitress named Barb or Dorothy endlessly refilling your coffee cup while you listen to a stranger teach you some local history lessons and I was enjoying the experience.
He was telling us about growing up in West Tampa (the neighborhood I live in); "All the kids I grew up with were either Italian or Cuban. We got along great, just kids who spent all day long playing baseball until it got dark out. And then, our mothers had to come get us to make us go inside. Not like kids these days."
I'm not as old as he is but I have similar memories. I too was a kid who much preferred playing outside to being cooped up inside a house. Yes, those were truly good old days and it's a shame that kids today don't know what they're missing.
"I like Tampa, always have. So many different people from so many different places. Everybody gets along really well with one another."
Yes, I like Tampa too. I've often said that Tampa is just a small town with lots of people!
"Even our blacks don't really act up that much. Not like in St. Pete."
Yeah, and....uh, what?
"Oh, yes. They have their hands full over there. They're out of control. At least most of 'em in Tampa seem to be civilized."
My date and I exchanged uncomfortable looks. The kindly old stranger who had joined us our leisurely stroll down memory lane turned out to be a bitter old racist with an ax to grind.
"I don't really care for the Arabs (pronounced AY-rabs) that are showing up now. Don't trust 'em."
My date, attempting to be polite without endorsing his view offered, "a lot of Indian people live here now."
"Same thing. Ay-rab, Indian. What's the difference? They move in and take all the jobs and decent people who were born here are left panhandling on street corners."
Not wanting to provoke a confrontation, I resisted the urge to point out that many of the people he was lumping into one mislabeled group, apparently anybody with brown skin that he couldn't identify as "a black", were simply following the classic immigrant blueprint of coming to America, investing their life savings in a business, working at it with the help of their families and trying to make something of themselves, a story very similar to those that many of us like to tell about our own ancestors. Instead, I didn't really say anything at all and the conversation just sort of...died. After a few minutes of silence, we went back to talking about our stuff in our booth, consciously or not, steering the conversation into us-specific areas that would make it difficult for an eavesdropper, unintentional or not, to invite himself into. He took the hint and didn't say anything else to us. We paid our bill, nodded to him and left shortly after that, probably an hour or so sooner than we would have otherwise.
Oh well. At least the coffee was good.

There's something to be said for consistency

2011-09-23T07:31:00.002-04:00

Another Loafies, another loss.
Or another way to put it is I didn't win a Creative Loafing Tampa Bay Best of the Bay award for Best Blogger.
Again.
Or yet another way to put it is I was named a runner-up...so that's pretty cool.

I didn't even place in the Twitter category so
let's pretend I didn't care about that one

The award went to Olga "Localista" Bof for her work on St. Pete's iLovetheBurg. I didn't go to the awards ceremony this year because ~~I had something else to do~~ I'm too cool for that. But here is my brief, bullet-pointed summary of the whole thing...

CONGRATULATIONS:

Best Local TV Weatherperson - Steve Jerve
Best Underrated Local Pop Star (that's a thing?) - Jeremy Gloff
Best Home Furninshings - Ikea Tampa

CONDOLENCES

Lynne Austin, Ronny Elliott, Ellen Mueller, Rebekah Pulley, Jessie Stehlik, Rebecca Zapen and everybody else I voted for who didn't win anything - You deserve better. If I had awards ("The Clarkies"), I'd give you one. Not that that's better, but you get the idea.
Catherine Durkin Robinson - Maybe next year we should resume our "feud"?

THANK YOU

Everybody who voted for me - Seriously, I'm flattered beyond words. Thank you so much for your support. It really is a tremendous honor to have people appreciate you and what you do and I'm truly, truly grateful for it. I'll make it up to you somehow. You too, Peter Scorsch.
God - For the end of awards season already, finally. I'm officially declaring an extended break from gratuitous pluggery on this blog starting....now.

Let me feed your hockey hunger

2011-09-22T13:29:00.000-04:00

If you've ever said, "All the stuff about toilets is awesome, but I want to read even more from Clark Brooks; In particular, I want to know what he has to say about the NHL's Tampa Bay Lightning", first of all, to whom on earth are you saying this? Secondly, you're in luck! My insights on all things related to the Tampa Bay Lightning can be found at RawCharge.com.
I am so happy to be a part of the Raw Charge family and not just because they rescued me when I was cast adrift from the rudderless ship (at the time) that was SB Nation Tampa Bay (I don't really know anything about boating or being lost at sea so I apologize if that last statement was unnecessarily redundant or otherwise stupid). I'm also proud to be part of it because it's an extremely well run, top-notch organization from managing editors John Fontana and Cassie McClellan down to my fellow staff writers Matt Amos, Tina Robinson, Dani Toth, Adam Vingan and Nolan Whyte.
And since hockey season starts in a couple of weeks, now is a good time to go back and read some of my old stuff. If you drill down far enough, you might even find some of my greatest hits collection from the SB Nation Tampa Bay days.

Yet another thing I don't understand

2011-09-21T06:38:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, I question whether I'm from this planet or not. So many things that are accepted as standard practices just seem wrong or really, really stupid to me. And it's not that I think I'm smarter than other people and that I have everything figured out while everyone else is clueless. If anything it's probably the opposite and the fact that these things confuse me causes me to wonder what the hell is wrong with me. One example would be the bathroom habits I mentioned recently. Another has to do with motorcycle helmets. First, here's comedian Jerry Seinfeld's take on motorcycle helmets and laws requiring they be worn:

"There are many things you can point to as proof that the human is not smart. But my personal favorite would have to be that we needed to invent the helmet. What was happening, apparently, was that we were involved in a lot of activities that were cracking our heads. We chose not to avoid doing those activities but, instead, to come up with some sort of device to help us enjoy our head-cracking lifestyles. And even that didn't work because not enough people were wearing them so we had to come up with the helmet law. Which is even stupider, the idea behind the helmet law being to preserve a brain whose judgment is so poor, it does not even try to avoid the cracking of the head it's in."

Now, this isn't about the debate over wearing motorcycle helmets. here in Florida, the law requiring motorcyclists to wear helmets was repealed 10 years ago. I don't ride motorcycles so I own neither a cycle nor a helmet. I understand that many motorcyclists have their own personal reasons for wearing or not wearing them and I believe that those reasons are as valid as anyone's personal preferences to do or not do anything else are. I get that some motorcyclists love their freedom and being as close to naked as they can get. I also get that some feel the need to bundle up in as much protective body armor as humanly possible. Again, the rightness or wrongness of it extends as far as the individual's personal preferences. There's a certain romantic appeal for bad-ass biker renegades in dying the way they lived; clad in little more than leather chaps and a bandanna. By the same token, one's natural instinct for self-preservation makes the idea of walking away from a fireball of twisted metal and burning rubber and not having to do much more than buff the scratches out of your custom-painted helmet very appealing. I understand the reasoning behind both of those stances.
Here's what I don't understand...

I see people all the time wearing almost no clothes...but still bothering to strap a helmet on. Why? This makes as much sense to me as a medieval knight going into battle wearing a helmet and a Speedo, which is to say, none. But again, it's entirely possible that this is a shortcoming on my part and that someone reading this right now is thinking, "a series of painful and expensive skin graft procedures after my body is hurled across asphalt at 60 mph like I'm on a water slide made out of cheese graters is something I could miss out on if I were to be killed instantly by not wearing a motorcycle helmet, you dumbass."
Yeah, seriously. What was I thinking?