I'm not one to judge, but...

"Hey, so, you used to go out with ______? What do you think of her?"
"Oh, I don't know. She's fine."
"Come on man, just tell me what you think."
"Listen, I'm making efforts to be a better person, and part of that is not being judgmental toward other people, you know? I mean, people are all basically the same. We all have flaws and some people mesh better than others. It doesn't necessarily mean anything, so..."
"I'm not asking for a full psychological profile. Just a thumbnail sketch based entirely on your opinion."
"Well..."
"Come on."
"It's no secret that we didn't really get along. That's nobody's fault, though."
"Right."
"I mean, it could be as much my fault as hers."
"Uh-huh."
"If I'm being totally honest, it's probably more her fault though."
"Oh?"
"She has some annoying traits. But of course, who doesn't?"
"Mmm?"
"But hers..."
"Go on."
"Really annoying..."
"Okay."
"And the thing is, she knows they're annoying. But she doesn't stop. It's like she's trying to be annoying in an aggressive manner."
"Oh, I see."
"What kind of person does that?"
"Well, I guess..."
"A bad person. That's who does that."
"Oh. Okay."
"A real piece of human garbage. I'm sorry to say that, but I really feel that's what she is."
"Oh my."
"She doesn't think before she speaks. She's uninformed. She's rude. She's insensitive. She lacks empathy or any sense of basic human kindness. She laughs at old people when they fall down. She's a high-functioning sociopath."
"..."
"She pushed a blind guy down the stairs once. She boos the Make-A-Wish Foundation."
"Holy... !"
"She made jokes about my genitals."
"Ouch!"
"To my grandmother."
"Wow!"
"She hates children. And I don't mean she doesn't want any. I mean she hates that children exist. She advocated that they be hunted for sport. She had a booth at the fair where she handed out pamphlets and everything."
"Are you serious?"
"One time, she accidentally scratched herself and this bubbling, black tar-like substance oozed out. I went to clean it up and it barked at me."
"That--that's a lot to deal with."
"Tell me about it. Pretty much a 24-hour waking nightmare."
"She is kinda cute, though."
"Oh yeah, she's smokin' hot. I miss her."

Here's what I'm kind of bothered by right now.

On the bright side, look
how svelte I'm getting!

Before I state my concern, let me give you a little background. When I was in the military, I served in combat support units as a vehicle operator. That means I was never in a unit whose primary function was to go fight in battle. However, every member of the armed services is trained with the expectation that not only does shit happen, shit probably WILL happen and at some point, EVERYBODY could be called on to participate in combat. Therefor, every member of the armed services is taught to fight. Cooks, clerks, medics, truck drivers. Everyone is issued a weapon, everyone is taught how to use it and everyone fully understands why it's important. At my two duty stations (Ft. Campbell in Kentucky and with the 3rd Armored Division in Frankfurt, Germany), I requested to be issued an M-203. An M-203 is an M-16 assault rifle with an additional component that launches grenades. That's right; my weapon could do everything a regular M-16 could do plus this...

As a non-combat unit, we only had a few of these in our stockpile and it meant extra time spent on the practice range but I always wanted to be one of the troops to whom they were issued. If things went south, I wanted a weapon that could not only shoot out a whole bunch of bullets but could also blow shit up real good. Had a highly-flammable version with knives all over it that dispensed potentially dangerous prescription medicine been available, I would have wanted one of those. That's because I was in the army when the Soviet Union still existed and there was a wall between East and West Germany and my job as a heavy equipment operator was to retrieve broken tanks. Had we actually gone to war, that would have meant going to the places where Soviet troops had broken the tanks and pulling them out of there so they could be repaired and sent back into battle. The Soviets, being as proud of their handiwork as one might expect, would probably take offense to any attempts to fix the tanks they had worked so hard to break. I'm pretty sure they would have expressed their displeasure by trying to prevent me from doing my job in the most effective way possible: killing me with bullets and stuff. I take no offense to this because if the roles were reversed, I'm sure I'd feel the same way, and when you take all the circumstances into consideration, it's a fairly reasonable response on their part. But that doesn't mean I would accept this response willingly and without objections of my own. Hence, my desire to carry the most shooting-est and blow-shit-up-real-good-est piece of hardware our unit had on hand.
I mention all this only to illustrate I'm not someone who doesn't recognize the value of a weapon for the sake of personal defense in the face of a real, possibly imminent threat to one's well-being.

Now here's my concern...

I am not afraid of you Gun People, and you know who you are if you're a member of the Gun People (notice I didn't use the term "Nuts"; I'm trying to be polite and respectful here). You, who value the Second Amendment to the Constitution, a document drafted when an assault rifle was, well, a rifle (defined as a rifle-like object with which you assault someone), seemingly more than human life itself. I don't doubt you when you tell me that you're safe, reasonable people who are responsible handlers of firearms. Okay, fine. I have no reason to think you'd lie to me. Benefit of a doubt and all that. Again, polite and respectful.
I am afraid of this guy, however, and guys like him who I have to believe exist (because, you know, they do) by the hundreds (thousands?). Spare me the mentally ill thing. He doesn't seem mentally deficient in any way. To the contrary, he's well-spoken and apparently educated, indicating an at-least average level of intelligence. He's shown here telling me and anybody else who saw this on The Colbert Report that he's a safe, responsible person who is a responsible handler of firearms, while also stating that he employs his geriatric and addled parents (who turn their backs to him while he shoots in their direction) as "lookouts" and that he simply doesn't care that innocent bystanders may be within his line of fire.
See where I'm going with this? That's who I'm afraid of. Oh, plus these people...

And these...
Because, you know, "Ha ha ha ha ha!", as the soundtrack to so many of these clips says.

Just so you know where I'm at on this stuff that happens and keeps happening and that we never, ever actually do anything about, even to the exclusion of sitting down and having a responsible, adult conversation about the possibility that a problem even exists, choosing to sling fault and blame and insults around instead.
I find that troubling. That's all.

Do they have to be JUST like this?

I mean, the price is pretty good, but...

Choose your word wisely

Actor Jonah Hill got himself in some trouble this past weekend. Harrassed by photographers, he snapped and called one of them a faggot. He meant it entirely as a slur without regard to his target's sexuality. It's a mean, nasty word and that's how he meant it, in spite of the fact that he doesn't harbor ill will towards gay people. Now he's making the rounds and apologizing for it.

"I'm not at all defending my choice of words but I am happy to be the poster boy for thinking about what you say, and how those words even though you don't intend them, they are rooted in hate, and that's bullshit and I shouldn't have said that."

That's fine, he's doing what he should do and there's no doubt that he's being sincere. Plus, he's 100% correct. This is very similar to situations when people use the hateful word "retard" when they're trying to insult someone's lack of intelligence. They want to use a hurtful word towards the subject of their ire, but they don't intend to direct that invective toward those who are mentally challenged. Hill's right; he's guilty of choosing the wrong word. Why call someone a retard when you mean to say they're an idiot? Why call someone a faggot when you mean to say they're being an asshole?
And that's the whole point of today's post.
People, the elders, in their infinite wisdom, have passed down a glorious gift to us in the form of a classic pejorative descriptor that cuts across all societal bounds, be they racial, political, religious or gender:
Asshole.
It's perfect! It's mean. It's nasty. It fires across the tongue and right out of the mouth with ease. "HEY, YOU ASSHOLE!" Mmm, that just feels so *right*! I love it! It hurts the recipient's feelings without taking into question their sexual orientation, standing in society, ethnic heritage or spiritual beliefs. What could possibly be better than that? Well, aside from being the bigger person and not compounding the situation by throwing hatred at hatred. But who has time for that shit?
If Jonah Hill had called the photographer an asshole, he'd have been fine. If Donald Sterling had used it, he'd still own the Clippers:

“It bothers me a lot that you want to broadcast that you’re associating with assholes. Do you have to?”

“You can sleep with assholes. You can bring them in, you can do whatever you want. The little I ask you is not to promote it on that … and not to bring them to my games.”

"Don’t put that asshole on an Instagram for the world to have to see so they have to call me. And don’t bring him to my games.”

See how many problems can be avoided in the first place when you just take a second to use the one, all-inclusive, specific word?

Not so fast, would-be Spike on the Mic Show attendee...

Tonight's show is cancelled. I just found out. Cancelled on account of sometimes, life isn't fair. Sorry if this ruins your plans. Sorry even if it doesn't. You can say you were going to come if you had no real intention of actually showing up and I wouldn't know. So you have that to hang over my head at least.
Plus, I know I owe you a podcast too. I know, I know. I'm working on it! Geez!

A plug in lieu of a post. Lucky, lucky you!

Hey, how's it going? Everything all right? Did that thing with the... you know... did that whole deal turn out okay or... ?  Don't wanna talk about it? No, that's cool. Me? I'm fine but I am having some internet issues, as in dependable access to, so no new post today. Sorry. But while I'm on line, let me sneak in a gratuitous plug.

These people.

Check out the Spike on the Mic Show tonight, 7pm (EST)! Watch and listen live via a dependable internet connection. You can call in to the show at (813) 667-7453 (or 81366Spike if that's easier for you, which I know it isn't, so I'm sorry). Even better, if you're in the Tampa Bay area, be a part of the live studio audience. We're at the Pin Chasers bowling center located at 4847 N. Armenia Avenue. Blow Spike's wee mind by actually showing up! Seriously. There's food and beer and you can get totally naked, just like every show hosted at a bowling alley.

The last donut

That, my friends is a donut. It's covered in powdered sugar and filled with chocolate creme. There's no hole in the center but I assure you, it is indeed a donut. As such, there's no question it is delicious. Because it's a donut. It's delicious-ness is inherent. Yet, no one will ever eat that donut. Nobody will ever even touch it. Not because there's anything wrong with it, but because it's the last donut.
There were once many donuts in that box. Dozens! Over the course of time (this morning, in the office), people visited this box of donuts, which was at one time, full. People came by, sometimes one-by-one, other times in small groups, and they would each take a donut to enjoy. They would make these individual selections based entirely upon their own personal preferences. For no good, less-arbitrary reason than that, all the other donuts were selected before this one. It became, through no fault of its own, the last donut.
After this, people still came by to look at the donut box. Some of them were people who had previously selected a donut and thought about treating themselves to a second donut. They changed their mind when they saw that the only thing left in the box was the last donut.
Why, exactly, is this true? Why is there stigma attached to a donut based entirely on it's status as being the last one? Because it's actually less of a stigma against the donut than it is against the person who might take it...

"Oh look, who took the last donut. You couldn't resist, could you? Had to eat it. Just had to!!"
"Huh? No! I just got here and I didn't have time for breakfast and I saw the donut box and..."
"Liar! I parked next to you this morning. You filthy, lying scavenger!"
"B-but what's wrong with eating it...?"
"You're a pig, that's what's wrong. Nobody else felt it necessary to finish off that box of donuts. But you sure did."
"Hey! It's not like I ate all the donuts. I just happened to have the last one."
"Oh, shut up, reviled eater of the last donut. Your very existence disgusts us."

As though eating an entire box of donuts except for one demonstrates an admirable level of restraint and moderation. How silly. Still, nobody wants to be the office pariah. So instead, for the sake of nothing more than a false sense of shallow, human pride, somebody had to throw this poor, innocent, delicious donut in the trash.
Yeah, that's probably what happened to it.

Finally! A new idea!

I spend a lot of time complaining about stuff. Since there's a finite amount of stuff in the world, I spend a lot of time complaining about the same things over and over again. One of my consistent complaints is that there are no new ideas, that we stopped inventing stuff back in the '50s. Yep, right around the same time time somebody figured out there was more money in treating diseases than curing them, we stopped coming up with inventions. Sure, there are better, faster, smaller (or bigger) phones, computers, televisions and kitchen appliances, but those are tweeks on old ideas. All of those things existed before and now we spend our resources maintaining their viability rather than coming up with The Next Thing. So while we have smaller phones with incredible computing power, we still drive around on the remains of used dinosaurs. That's why we haven't had a The Next Thing in a long time. Until now. Check this out...
All right, technically this isn't a new new idea. Roads have been around for a long, long time. But not like this! THIS can, could and should be The Next Thing! I won't go over all the positive benefits because the video does that just fine. However, I dare someone to try to come up with a reasonable argument for why this is not an absurdly great idea.

That's not a truck. THIS is a truck

When people find out that I was in the army, their first question (Well, first after "YOU were in the army?!?", all incredulous-like. I understand, though) is usually, "what did you do?". I answer that I was a truck driver. That's kind of underselling it though. I did spend some time driving trucks but a majority of my time was spent with the 3rd Armored Division in Frankfurt, Germany where I drove this...

This one was mine, B554 of B Company, 4th Support Battalion, 3rd Armored Division. AKA The Mongomobile

That, my friends, is what was known as the M-746 Heavy Equipment Transporter, or HET for short. It was 27 feet long, 10 feet wide, weighed 22 1/2  tons and was paired with a 60 ton trailer. They were designed to retrieve and haul broken tanks. There were less than 200 of them ever made, all between 1973 and 1977. In 1985, I was chosen, along with five other guys, to be part of a squad driving these things for the purpose of determining whether or not they should keep them or suck it up and buy brand new ones. So on one hand, we had higher-ups that wanted us to succeed and keep the beat-up old things on the road so they could save money, as well as those who wanted us to fail miserably so they could buy new toys. We were loved and hated like rock stars and we acted like it, too. Uber-cocky and arrogant to the point of being insufferable at times. What fun! It wasn't always easy but we managed a 100% mission completion rate. Every time we were sent out, we came back with tanks. I have no idea why I was selected to be a part of that team. I was not, nor am I now, by any means a motorhead. Maybe it was my attitude. Regardless, it was an honor to be part of a group doing good good work.

L to R: Sumaster Newell, Ricky Holstein, Lt. Kathleen Costello, Ken Gates, Paul Tucker, me and Dave Mansfield

As you might imagine, there are some pretty good stories from that time. I will try to list some of them here in the days to come. Anyway, Happy Memorial Day to you and yours.

Of course there's a gift shop at the 9/11 Memorial Museum

Let's be honest; the only thing that would have been more shocking and appalling than the new 9/11 Memorial Museum having a gift shop and snack bar is if it didn't have them. After all, there were over 46,000 casualties at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863 and they have a gift shop there today. More than 1,500 died when the Titanic sunk in 1912 and today, you can rent an inflatable bouncy slide version of the doomed ocean liner for a kids party.

"Whee! I'm plunging to an icy death!"

Let's not waste time pretending that this is a new or sopmehow more tacky development. Come on. You know how we do. And though I can't really think of a lot of situations where it would be appropriate for me to pop on a 9/11 commemorative t-shirt, at least I know where I can get one. So let's go shopping!

A wide variety of souvenirs means there's something for everyone!

Blankets with our favorite corporate logo symbol of freedom

Jewelry!

Hey black teenagers, minimize your odds of getting shot with this memorial hoodie!

"Arf! Arf!", says your fuzzy first-responder in this doggy fireman's jacket

Scream blindly through your own miniature urban hellscape with these emergency vehicle replicas

Who is the most patriotic and introspective third baseman in your Thursday night softball league? You are, if you're wearing this hat!

Seeking assistance on a project

Christina is a co-worker of mine and she is a big soccer fan. I am not a soccer fan. She is currently working on trying to complete a sticker album for the upcoming World Cup. It's a book with blanks that you're supposed to fill in with collectible stickers of players, stadiums and logos that you get in packs. My first instinct was to make fun of her for this pursuit, so I did. However, being a collector of baseball cards (among other useless things), my penchant for ridicule faded after I actually looked at her album. Once I saw what it was all about, my inherent collectors' obsessive need to complete sets, which is a severely twisted, highly specific form of OCD, kicked in to a high degree. She could have had an album of war criminals (for all I know, some of those guys are war criminals) and I would NEED to see it completed. Turns out helping a fellow collector experience the thrill of "got 'im, need 'im, need 'im, got 'im, got 'im..." outweighs the desire to point and laugh at how silly soccer is.
She really wants the Cristiano Ronaldo (#523) sticker. When I told her I was enlisting the help of the internet, she said, "Wait, I only need one. What if we get a whole bunch of extras?". I tactfully explained that excess inventory is useful for making trades, duh. Okay, maybe I could have been more tactful. Point is, she gets it now.
Anyhow, here's where we appeal to you: Help us complete this album by either sending us packs of Panini stickers (word is that Walgreens carries them for a dollar a pack) or if you have individual stickers (especially the Ronaldo one) you'd like to give or trade. Let us know either in the comments section or by sending an email to clark@clarkbrooks.com. Please help us; if this doesn't work out, we'll have to go to eBay. Thanks!
Actually, I don't want anyone to go out of pocket and jeopardize their financial status. So steal them instead of buying them.
Wait a minute. It's not right to take something that doesn't belong to you without paying for it. Don't steal them. Okay.
How about if you want to send any extra money you might have, we'll spend 75% on stickers and the remaining 25% on cancer. Not pro-cancer but on anti-cancer measures. All right. Yeah, do that. That's better.

She really wants this one.

Think twice, speak once

I used to be really bad about opening my mouth without thinking, watching helplessly as stupid words spewed out into the atmosphere to go forth and ruin my life. With maturity (and hard-learned lessons), I've gotten much better about taking a half second to think before I start talking. But old habits die hard.
That's why this happened...

ME: You know, it's been driving me crazy but you look like a movie star.
HER: Oh, right.
ME: No, seriously. A celebrity if not an actual movie star. Somebody famous. I just can't think of who it is. It's driving me nuts.
HER: Wow, I've never had anyone tell me that before! Who do you think it is?
ME: I'm trying to think of it.
HER: I need you to figure out who it is!
ME (to myself, inside my head upon realizing the movie star I've been thinking of is Scott Thompson of Kids in the Hall in drag.): Uh-oh.

That's it?

The other day, I posted this status on Facebook...

"To the people who are all upset about having The Gay Agenda "rammed down (their) throat", first of all, let me compliment you on your absolutely top notch choice of idioms. Secondly, I spent all weekend watching sports and I haven't seen the video of Michael Sam kissing his boyfriend. Not one time. If you've seen it several times, over and over, and it bothers you, maybe that's your punishment for being a person who actually watched all seven rounds of the NFL draft."

I felt I had to say something because, well, it's not every day I get to take a shot at homophobes AND the NFL Draft. You simply can't pass up opportunities like that.
People are pretty worked up about it though, and they're making comments like this (all posted to local sports radio station 620 WDAE's Facebook page):

"It always make me wonder if we are to accept the gay thing, why does it seem like that have to shove it down our throats?"
"Keep that garbage behind closed doors that's pathetic"
"Too much for TV"
"vomiting in my mouth can't type..."
"Just that most us dont like GAY P.D.A...dont care about his personal crap..lets see if he can play."
"No 7th rounder had ever been showed on tv when they were drafted and neither should he have been. Them kissing was sick"
"Sorry nothin against Gay people but it's not right to see a football player kiss another man in the mouth"

I think in the case of some of these people, it's less about homophobia than it is about maintaining the traditional stereotype of football players as warriors. I've always thought equating sports with war and players with soldiers is stupid, simply because they're not even close to the same things. Folks do love that outdated, false convention, though. You gotta know that on some level, they're as annoyed by the dreadlocks worn by so many African American players as they are by the existence of Michael Sam.


"This is what football players are supposed to look like, goddamnit! Also, gas should be .36 a gallon."

Anyway, the other day, since making the comment on Facebook, I saw The Kiss. Somebody felt obligated to make me watch it so they showed it to me on their phone. All I can say is...that's it? That's what has people so upset? Honestly, based on the level of outrage, I would have guessed that they had stripped down to leather harnesses, oiled each other up and went to town on each other on top of a Little Tikes playhouse filled with grandmothers. But that? That's nothing! As someone who was also witnessing it for the first time said, "I kiss my dad like that." Seriously, I've seen more over-the-top public displays of affection on "The Price is Right".
The irony is that many of the people upset by this are also the ones who bemoan how everyone in America has allowed political correctness to make them too overly sensitive.
Just yesterday, a co-worker was moaning about a reality show about Sam that is being developed for the Oprah Winfrey Network.

"And that bothers you why? Because it will pre-empt other programming that you enjoy so much on that channel?"
"No. I don't watch the Oprah Winfrey Network!"
"So what's the problem?"
"It's just too much, that's all."

I don't know. Maybe it is. Gay people who are looking for opportunities just to be included in more aspects of day-to-day life in America might say it's not close to enough. Again, I really don't know. Michael Sam is a seventh round draft choice who may not even make the team. Even if he does, statistics indicate the average length of a "career" in the NFL is just over three years. What I'm pretty sure will happen is years from now, when Michael Sam and his career are distant memories, some kid who drew inspiration from his example will feel free to be himself and live his life. He'll be drafted in the first round and lead a team to a Super Bowl victory. Then everybody will be okay with it.

Stiouxpid White Kids

Did you know that Dakota, Lakota and Nakota people comprise the Oceti Sakowin and that Oceti Sakowin were called ‘Sioux’ by their enemies because 'Sioux' is a slur?

"Sioux is a derogatory slang word that means devil. Serpent is the original word for "sioux" but was mistranslated as snake. Nadowessioux is two words Nadowessi and Oux (Nadowessioux). The slang word sioux comes from (Nadowes sioux)." - Lakota Country Times

If you did know that, I'm willing to bet you didn't learn it in the same public school system I came out of. We were taught that 'Sioux' is the proper name of an Indian tribe. We were also taught that Native Americans were Indians.

Well, you know, that's what we were taught. I was in school a long time ago, though. Maybe teachers didn't know any better back then. Sorry. So what do you do? You make mistakes, you acknowledge those mistakes, you learn from them and you move forward better informed, right?
Wellllllllll...

Mere weeks after this happened in Cleveland, we have the students from the University of North Dakota and their "Siouxper Drunk" t-shirts...

The university's former mascot The Fighting Sioux was removed in 2012 after the NCAA had declared it was "hostile and abusive" in 2005. But this is about tradition, goddamnit!

Specifically, the interwoven traditions of white kids spending entire weekends getting wasted with their besties and generations of Native Americans being decimated by alcoholism.

"Oh, lighten up. Stop being so sensitive. Racism is over. All of this stuff happened hundreds of years ago. None of us had anything to do with all of that. Besides, it's not like these kids were knowingly committing any harm, right?"

Riiiiiiight.

I'm a moonshiner now!

Way back when I was stationed at Fort Campbell in Kentucky, some of my more adventurous comrades would go out in the woods and get moonshine. I don't know how they knew where to find it but they did. This was the stuff that came in fruit jars with tin foil lids. Since I had been raised to believe that drinking that stuff could render you blind (or worse) I never partook. I do remember my friend Paul drinking some while we were talking to girls at a party when the front of his jeans suddenly became soaking wet. He had pee'd himself while he was wide awake and having a relatively coherent conversation and had no idea that it happened. Up until recently, that was my experience with moonshine.
Back in January, Lee Nelson with The Florida Distillery approached me with a proposal involving his efforts to produce a legal, safe, smooth, tasty moonshine that people would be able to buy in stores and restaurants:

"This is going to be a VERY high proof product (109) and has a very light, almost buttery, profile to it... There is no other moonshine product like this on the market for two reasons: They usually price, package and sell themselves as a whiskey. Moonshine is unaged whiskey -- but it's significantly cheaper to produce and if distilled correctly can be lighter and smoother. Also, none of them are 109 proof... We are going to market it as the craft-mixologists choice and the 'affordable sophisticated' moonshine. So that's why I'm reaching out to you... One way we can unify the theme is with a short and intriguing story on the back of each bottle. It could be a single story line that runs across the bottles. It could be about four unique characters whose profiles are all written similarly. Or, why I specifically thought of you: It could be four humorous observations. About anything! It does not have to mention the flavor profiles but I would like it to."

I was beyond flattered so of course I said yes. Even more important than my being flattered was that it sounded like it would be fun so of course my yes was pretty emphatic. Now, just under five months after that initial proposal, Sunshine Moonshine was officially unveiled this past Saturday and will be hitting the shelves soon. There are four flavors: Sunrise, High Noon, Sunset and Midnight and each one has its own blurb written by yours truly. I'm pretty excited to see it in a liquor store when I will compare that experience with seeing my book on the shelf at a local bookstore. Another perk is that Lee and his partners gave me a case (one of each flavor). I have them displayed on top of my 'fridge, figuring that if I ever bottom out, I can drink it, get wasted, read the blurbs to myself, ruminate on a past when I was a big shot who wrote blurbs for moonshine bottles, look sadly into a mirror and then smash the bottle into the mirror. That'll be super dramatic!
I'll probably just drink it and share it with guests, though, the way it should be enjoyed.

Another mystery solved

Back in early March, I presented an odd situation: the belief that somebody I didn't know was cutting my grass. Turns out I was right and I found out who and why.
At the time, my theories were that either it was a good samaritan or somebody making a mistake. The answer is that it's kind of the former, but not entirely a selfless deed.
I went out to my mailbox the other day and my next door neighbor was in his driveway. Small talk ensued and I mentioned that I would eventually need to figure out a long-term solution for having my yard mowed. He said, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Uh-oh. Is this where I find out I'm the bad neighbor and that everybody on the block hates me? Geez, the grass has never gotten THAT long. "I was hoping you'd let me do that. I used to do it for the lady who lived there before you moved in." Oh. Cool. How much will that cost me? "Nothing..." Nothing? That fits my budget perfectly! "...but I'd like to keep the clippings and use them in my composting." Let's see; my grass gets cut on a regular basis, the resultant detritus is hauled off, I get to take a little credit for helping the environment and it doesn't cost me anything? I know virtually nothing about composting, other than it's like controlled rot to produce fertilizer and that it involves worms and pee and is good for nature. But even if he has a way of turning my yard waste into actual, shiny, spendable American pennies that he uses to make himself wealthy, that's fine with me.

Happy Sinko de Dishes!

This is a 100% true conversation I had with someone this past Sunday...

THEM: Hey, tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo! What are you doing to celebrate?
ME: I am probably going to celebrate Cinco de Mayo by going home and washing dishes.
THEM: Wow. That... that is EXTREMELY racist.
ME: Is it?
THEM: You know that it is. Ha ha. Washing dishes. Ha ha ha. Very funny.
ME: I have dirty dishes that need to be washed...
THEM: Right. And then what? Are you going to mow lawns and pick lettuce?
ME: No. I don't mow my lawn and I don't grow lettuce.
THEM: Please. Don't act like you're not familiar with the stereotype of Hispanic people having low-wage, menial labor jobs.
ME: Yeah, I'm familiar with it. Is that what you think I'm doing?
THEM: I know it's what you're doing and you know it's what you're doing and I don't appreciate it.
ME: Because perpetuating that stereotype offends you?
THEM: Yes, it does actually.
ME: So your perception of my portrayal of Mexicans as people who do tough, low-wage jobs that other people don't want to do is more offensive to you than if I were to participate in the annual tradition of portraying Mexicans as drunken clowns?
THEM: Well...no. Wait. What?
ME: Have a Corona for me, amigo.

Preparing for the deluge



This album deserves better, and frankly, so do I.

 I've written previously about my unique relationship with Prince. Naturally, I'm very excited about the news that he has reached a new agreement with Warner Brothers records. For one, as an advocate for the rights of artists, it pleases me that he is gaining control of his publishing rights. I'm not somebody who feels that record companies are useless and should cease to exist, but the relationship between them and those who actually create the product has been hideously lopsided since forever. This is a step in the right direction toward more equitable relationships going forward.
Then there's the expectation that we stand to receive just a ton of new material from Prince, including the already-announced album of new material and a special 30th anniversary edition of the "Purple Rain" album. That has fellow Prince fans sitting down and writing long wish lists with hopes of hearing the hundreds (thousands?) of previously-unreleased gems that have been locked away in the legendary Vault.
I guess I'm relatively low maintenance because all I really want is a re-mastered "Sign O' The Times" album, complete with extended B-sides, and a proper home video release of the accompanying film. The album, which is my all-time favorite was originally released in 1987. '87 was a good and bad year for me and that album supplied the soundtrack to some pretty significant events in my life. It has never sounded as good as it could, with curiously low levels requiring you to crank up the volume to even hear it. As far as the film, I saw it once in a theatre and bought it on VHS when it came out. It's never been released on DVD or BluRay in America. I bought a legit DVD via Amazon, Canada a while back but the only other DVD is a virtually unwatchable Portugese bootleg that has been floating around for years. Even the legit version is lacking in that it contains no special features. A new version with outtakes, behind-the-scenes features and a commentary track would be fantastic.
Of course, I'll probably wind up buying everything that comes out but if they could just make those two things happen, I'd be thrilled.

This is a test



"A test? I didn't even study!" (nervous laughter)

  This is a test. This blog is conducting a test of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution. This is only a test.

It occurs to me that I have exactly as many commendations from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and exactly one less hot, mixed-race girlfriend than Donald Sterling. How bad a person am I to be tied or trailing in categories like that to that guy?

"So that's it? We're giving it to Sterling then?"
"Yeah, I'm just not that impressed with Brooks."
"Hey, no argument here! Ha ha!"
"I mean, it's not like we have recorded evidence of Sterling being a racist or anything."
"And if we did, there's nothing that says we have to commend anybody."
"The odds are solidly in our favor on this one, for a change."

And the hot, mixed-race girlfriend? What the hell is going on there? Sure, I'm not worth $1.9 billion but women don't really care about material things like that, do they?

Maybe not, but apparently, they are really into Daft Punk though.

Because aside from that, we're practically twinsies. I'm old. I'm creepy. I'm a megalomaniac with a wildly inflated ego who's drastically out-of-touch with modern society. Who knew self-loathing hotties were that into racism? Well, I can take a hint. I know when to step my game up. One romantic, candle-lit dinner at Golden Corral with me, during which I outline how the Jews control the media (among other things) along with Blacks ability to sing, dance and play basketball, how weirdly smart Indian and Japanese kids are and the illegal aliens from Hispanica (or wherever) are taking all the non-acting jobs and how the homos are taking what's left along with how all Muslims are terrorists, well, I expect her to be licking my big, fat, white feet before we've even had the banana pudding.


This has been a test of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution. The bloggers of your area in voluntary cooperation with the Federal, State and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If the First Amendment didn't actually function the way it's supposed to, armed government officials in uniforms would have rapelled from black helicopters and stopped me from writing it in the first place or at least erased it from the internet before you had a chance to read it. Being as it appears to be in perfect working order, I am not protected from the reactions of those who might find the stupidity posted above to be objectionable for any reason at all. This concludes this test of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Art assignment: completed

Nolan Whyte is a co-contributor at Raw Charge, where we both write about Tampa Bay Lightning hockey. He also runs his own site where he likes to present Lightning coach Jon Cooper's post game press conference remarks as free-verse poetry.
Yesterday, he posted this as a Facebook status:

"Your assignment today is to paint a picture recreating the famous photo of artist Marcel Duchamp playing chess against a nude Eve Babitz, except with a young woman (clothed) playing chess against a giant bird (also clothed)."

That famous photo looks like this:

And here's my rendition, done on MS Paint:

Nailed it!

Hey dink

This dink shows up at the Chicago White Sox game against the Tampa Bay Rays yesterday and proceeds to take his seat right behind home plate. What makes him a dink is that he's wearing Chicago Blackhawks stuff. The Blackhawks are a hockey team. This was a baseball game. The Chicago Blackhawks were not playing there. Because they're a hockey team. There would be no goals, no icing, no face offs, no crosschecking. Not one of any of those things. Because it was a baseball game, a game that is inherently not hockey in that it is baseball.
Cripes, look at him.

What a dink.

Sorry. He might be a wonderful human being, reading to orphans and curing cancer when he isn't at a game, but the choice of entirely inappropriate attire makes him a dink. He wasn't the only one there wearing Blackhawks stuff. However, he was the only one with a seat behind home plate meaning he was on TV for every single pitch. This confirms and locks in his dink-ness. There is info out there about jersey etiquette but common sense should tell you that you don't wear hockey stuff to a baseball game. You don't get dressed, saying, "I'm going to a sports thing, I guess I can wear any sports stuff I want". No. That's silly and doesn't make any sense. You wear baseball stuff to baseball games, football stuff to football games and hockey stuff to hockey games. You want to wear your Blackhawks stuff? Go to a Blackhawks game or a place where they're showing it on TV (if it's out of town). Wear the right stuff to the right place.
Yes, I know the game was in Chicago.
Yes, I know the Blackhawks are in the playoffs and that the entire city of Chicago is out of its mind over the Blackhawks right now.
Yes, the same playoffs from which the Tampa Bay Lightning were eliminated last week.
What? No, I'm not bitter!
Shut up.

And get the hell out of there, you dink.

I survived Quadragesima (not the Police album)

In my ongoing Chinese menu approach to spirituality ("Ooh, I like that! Gimme one of those. No, not that. Tried it, don't like it."), I participated in Lent this year. Lent (Latin: Quadragesima - English: Fortieth) is a solemn religious observance in the liturgical calendar of many Christian denominations that begins on Ash Wednesday (aka "You got a little schmutz on your forehead there... what? Well, excuse me for not realizing it was a holy day! See if I ever say say anything if you have a piece of broccoli stuck in your teeth!" Day) and covers a period of approximately six weeks before Easter Day. The traditional purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer through prayer, penance, repentance of sins, almsgiving, atonement and self-denial. This event, along with its pious customs are observed by Christians in the Anglican, Reformed, Lutheran, Methodist, and Roman Catholic traditions. Today, some Anabaptist and evangelical churches also observe the Lenten season. What it comes down to is doing without something you enjoy for 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, demonstrating sacrifice on your part. Lots of people give up chocolate or coffee, stuff like that. I gave up meat. Well, some meat. I ate fish, and not just on Fridays. I may have had some chicken once or twice too. Okay, I gave up beef and pork. I had none of those two things for 40 days. It was easier than I thought it would be, too. Doing without at home was a breeze and any restaurant I went to had plenty of alternatives. I passed up some mighty good lookin' spare ribs one night and that wasn't fun, but overall, it was a breeze.

It was actually more like 46 days because I found out that they don't count Sundays. Those extra days aren't freebies either. You have to adhere, even though the day doesn't count against your pledge of 40. This was a major disappointment when I thought I was almost done and then found out almost a whole extra week was tacked on. I felt like Belloq must have felt in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" when he finds out that his copy of the Headpiece to the Staff of Ra only had instructions on ONE side, meaning he and his team of Nazi diggers were looking in the wrong place.

A relatively minor setback, however. I sailed through and now I'm just waiting for my Certificate of Completion from the Pope (complete with coupons for free fries!), which I assume is forthcoming because I have yet to learn that things like acts of sacrifice are their own reward.

Back to the grindstone

Well, we were eliminated from the playoffs Tuesday night (Swept. In four lousy games. By Montreal. Ugh.) so I guess I'm back to blogging on the regular. Look for new material starting Friday (tomorrow).

Blog hiatus update (blame hockey edition)

The Tampa Bay Lightning clinched their slot in the NHL Playoffs and will open the first round at home against the Montreal Canadiens on Wednesday. I already said I was going to take a break from this little ol' purple blog now adding the extra dimension of trying to stay on top of things with the extra busy business at work and with covering the team for Raw Charge would make that extremely challenging. I don't really care for challenges. So how about this: let's just say the blog is closed until the Lightning's season is over, whenever that happens to be. How about that? That way we'll all be able to keep track on an expected return. Plus, here's another reason to hate sports, if you're so inclined. I'll try to pop in now and then but no promises and you can't be mad at me because we already said the blog is closed. Fair is fair.
If you want to follow along, please do so at www.rawcharge.com. I'll be there often and we can say hi and flirt with each other and maybe get a little handsy over there (when nobody's watching, of course; family show, think about the kids). Also the fun and games with the Spike on the Mic Show should continue (every Monday night at 7pm). So it's not like I'm gone gone. But until we see each other again,

LET'S GO LIGHTNING!

Sorry folks, blog's closed (again)

We'll be back soon. There's some internal and external maintenance that needs to be done. Soon as that's cleared up, we'll go from there. Cool?
Cool.
In the meantime, if you're looking for something funny, go listen to the podcast posted Monday. Seriously, that shit is funny.

Awwwwwwwwwwkward

"Naw bro, check it out. Like, I totally respect your tribe or whatever but this imbecilic, grinning, red-skinned, bug-eyed, feather-wearing caricature is, like, part of our proud heritage as baseball fans. And that's what you don't understand; it's about our heritage, something deeper than the surface symbolism of it all. If anything, it's, like, a tribute to you and your people, you know? So, like, are we cool, bro?"  

All about camping

It's podcast time again and on this edition (sponsored by the Baby Corn Growers Association of America), we cover a lot of manly ground. My guests Steve Ericson and P.W. Fenton and I go over the necessary logistics in planning a successful camping trip. You ladies and less-than-manly fellas might not appreciate it, but you should listen anyway because you might learn something and learning is good for you. So check it out.

Also, don't forget, you can subscribe via iTunes!

Thanks, Baby Corn Growers Association of America!

NOTE: Podcast is available on iTunes, Baby corn is (currently) not.

Endangered species?

My friend and former classmate Gayle thought of a fun way to celebrate her father's birthday: a card bombing.

"Hey...I know a lot of you know or remember my Dad. Well, he's turning 85 on April 6. We are having a family party in Madison, WI. But I would like to 'card bomb' him for his birthday! He was a pastor, city commissioner and major sports fan in Benton Harbor (the guy with the cow bell at all the BHHS basketball and football games). He is also the best Dad a person could have.. If you'd like to join in the fun, just send me a message and I'll give you his address."

Sounded like fun so I said I'd be happy to participate. Besides, what better cards to receive than the tacky postcards that come out of Florida? No problem!
Except there was a problem: apparently, tacky Florida postcards are no longer as available as they used to be. I would have sworn that most retail stores and more than a few restaurants have a spinning wire rack filled with 6" x 4.25" works of tacky "art", often with illustrations and/or jokes from the 1950s but that is not the case, at least anymore. I don't think my memory is faulty in this regard. I'm positive that was the case not that long ago but at some point, they disappeared. I went to two different drug store chains and neither one had them. Denny's doesn't have them. The gift shop at the arena where I work, a magnet for tourists, doesn't have them. I eventually found some at a WalMart. They occupied about 1/4 of a rack that had refigerator magnets and key chains. This is all that's left of Florida's tacky trinket industry, one single display rack at a major retailer? Was it that long ago that entire shops existed, stocked from floor to ceiling with tee-shirts, rubber alligators, sequin-bedazzled seashells and about a million postcards? Where did they go and what's responsible for their demise? I'm sure the ability to take high-quality photos with most cell phones is partially responsible. The fact that people don't mail things very much is probably a factor too. But is that it? Is it possible that we have evolved to the point where our tastes are so much more refined that cheap, shoddy novelties with virtually no real value have been rendered obsolete?

Yeah, that's probably it.

In other words, Screw you, Cadillac. And Ford, for that matter.