Sick, disgusting, twisted and a nice lawn

A random thought brought on by a sad event:

I've followed the Warren Jeff's cult thing (Fundamental Church of Latter Day Saints) with interest for a few years now.

I heard about the compound in Eldorado fairly soon after it started, thanks to the fact that I was in the town reporting on a random story and the guy I was interviewing happened to mention a compound with "these fundamentalist mormons" going up outside of town.

It sounded foreboding, and the last couple of weeks we've all come to know how.

One of the things that struck me was the area photo of the temple (with the "nuptial" rooms).

Dang, that's a green lawn for being out in the middle of nowhere near desert-like San Angelo. And we're in the middle of April. I can only imagine the thousands of gallons of water and hours of labor they had to pour on that sucker to get it to look like that, tho I can imagine it pretty well.

It brought to mind a story my brother told me while I was working in his lawn-care business. A friend of his in the same line of work had won a huge, $50,000-a-year-plus contract to tend the grounds of one of the mormon places of worship in Lubbock.

A contract like that will keep a man set for the year. But he soon regretted taking the job, because the mormon folks who ran the place were never happy with anything -- the lawn had to be immaculate to the point of other-worldliness, and trying to meet their needs had him running in circles.

To point out to the easily offended, I don't think that the modern Church of LDS has anything to do with the cult, other than the fact that they developed from the same group that moved into Utah back in the 1800s.

The random thought: I wonder if that culture spawned a rather strong obsession with lawns. The pioneers in Utah were able to survive only through massive and collective irrigation efforts to bring water to their farms. Maybe that somehow transformed to an immaculate lawn being "Godly."

No idea, just curious.

Sci-fi delicious

Just saw this:

Fox has given the green light to "Virtuality," a two-hour back-door pilot from "Battlestar Galactica" mastermind Ronald D. Moore.
The sci-fi project, from Universal Media Studios and producers Gail Berman and Lloyd Braun, is set aboard the Phaeton, Earth's first starship. It revolves around its crew of 12 astronauts on a 10-year journey to explore a distant solar system. To help them endure the long trip and keep their minds occupied, NASA has equipped the ship with advanced virtual-reality modules, allowing the crew members to assume adventurous identities and go to any place they want. The plan works flawlessly until a mysterious "bug" is found in the system.
"It's very much about what's fantasy and what's reality; what we do to escape our lives and what actually institutes our lives; are these things very different," UMS president Katherine Pope said.

Mmmmm ...

This should be good, but I need to put the should in italics. Moore might be burnt out, and Fox killed "Firefly" for no good reason.

I'm one of many who were never too keen on the holodeck in the Star Trek series. It offered too many easy outs for too many problems, and they never addressed the problem of exactly what happens to humanity when physical holograms are finally created.

I'm currently in the camp that says we're doomed. Your typical human has to decide between being in a fake world were he can do whatever he wants all the time or being in the real world and getting the typical weggie that reality gives every day. We don't stand a chance.

Hat tip: NRO

At the botanical garden

In Fort Worth, where the family spent part of Sunday.


We have a few pictures. It's required. Everybody -- brides, prom girls, new engagees, families with horribly ugly children -- were taking pictures of themselves at the Forth Worth Botanical Garden.


Sam now has a new way of getting around. I'm kinda excited by this, because it means I can stay in backpacking shape. After the boy gains about 10 more pounds.

About Hulu

It's been out there for a bit, but wanted to pass on a recommendation for Hulu.com.

Besides sports, I watch almost no TV nowadays. But I have watched a lot of stuff on-line.

I was going to TV network sites and watching a few shows, but the quality tended to suck. "Jericho" on CBS comes to mind. I got tired of watching the episodes because I got sick of a pause every six seconds.

Hulu.com is what you'd prefer these sites to do. It's obvious the networks don't take on-line programming seriously because they haven't invested the capital to make a smoothe-running system. The programs at Hulu run without a pause and the offerings are increasing daily. It's a combination of new and old, and they also have a few movies. It's all free -- you just have to watch a short commercial every 15 minutes or so.

I am not being paid to do this. Thanks.

Also, NBC's cancelation of "Journeyman" is a freakin' crime. Thanks again.

From Hell -- what makes a truly awful film

A guardian critic reviews the latest Paris Hilton film.

Actually, he doesn't review the film. Why bother, when you can instead write a lengthy meditation on some of the worst garbage Hollywood and other filmmakers have produced throughout the decades?

"A generically appalling film like The Hottie and the Nottie is a scab that looks revolting while it is freshly coagulated; but once it festers, hardens and falls off the skin, it leaves no scar. By contrast, a truly bad movie, a bad movie for the ages, a bad movie made on an epic, lavish scale, is the cultural equivalent of leprosy: you can't stand looking at it, but at the same time you can't take your eyes off it. You are horrified by it, repelled by it, yet you are simultaneously mesmerised by its enticing hideousness. A monstrously bad movie is like the Medusa: those who gaze on its hideous countenance are doomed, but who can resist taking a gander?"

Bug people

Folks always made fun of Tom Delay’s background as an exterminator. I’m beginning to see how the experience made excellent congressional training.

Last year, we hired an exterminator, after the bug problem in my house got under the skin of my very lovely and granola wife. The man came out, talked to us about his company’s "vision" for half an hour, and tried to sign us up for seasonal treatments at $200 a pop. We said we’d think about it (we were thinking, "Hell no") and he eventually sprayed and left.

Two months later, the bug company began leaving messages on our phone, saying it was time for a treatment. Three weeks after that, an exterminator showed up unannounced at our door, asking if he could spray the insides.

"Ah, no."

How ‘bout a perimeter treatment?

"No thanks."

He left, and about 20 minutes later, we had a rather testy message on the answering machine (we never answer) from the bug people. But at least that was the last we heard of them.

Last month, the termites came. They haven’t swarmed, but they’ve deposited little brown mounds on a spot on the high wall over the kitchen.

And so the estimate process began again. We’ve had two people over so far, will have two more tomorrow.

The first guy was pretty laid back, and was in and out in about 30 minutes.

The next guy was from Terminix. He came in, talked about his vision for what the house needed, and refused to give a price. Then he spent about an hour going through and around the house, going so far as to pull out some metal-detector looking doohickey with which he went over the walls -- a grim expression plastered on his face the entire time.

Then he came back in and started to give his sales presentation to Meredith*. The presentation includes a 10-minute video, which talks about Terminix’s dedication to the customer and features some really disgusting photos of termites.

Then, he gives his first price: $110 a month for the next two years for complete coverage. (The first guy just had a one-time cost of $700.)

There is sticker shock. How about a one-time treatment?

"$900."

Still too high.

"We have a coupon out there right now, I think. That'd make it $800."

Umm ...

"Perhaps $650?"

I hear, "What can I do for us to begin treatment today?" He even calls the manager, who tells him to tell us to get bent.

Finally, three hours after he first arrived in the house, he leaves.

I have distant memories from the growing up years of the exterminator.

A man came by our house in an unmarked white van and sprayed around, after which point, mom paid him. And that was about it.

I’m left wondering if Mom was lucky enough to know someone, or if the trend to the hard-sell-packages-that-nobody-needs is new to the business of bug killing.

I don't know. I just wish Dale Dribble had a blog.

* I left Meredith alone for two reasons. Salesmen love to play couples off on each other. And I didn't want to sit through it. I would have had more sympathy for Meredith had she not let the man in the house before I put my pants on.

There's gold in them thar trees

Shopping at Kroger, noticed the price of pecans:

$8 for 16 ozs.

I'm going to retire to Hico and pick the pecan trees for the rest of my life.

Once again -- So long, sukas.

Axl Rose: A tool who could be a Pepper, too

Huh ...

"Many have tried, but so far nobody has been able to pry the decade-in-the-works Guns N' Roses album "Chinese Democracy" from the hands of lone remaining original member Axl Rose.

"Now, Dr Pepper thinks it's up to the challenge. The soft drink company says it will give a free can of Dr Pepper to "everyone in America" (excluding ex-GNR members Slash and Buckethead) if "Chinese Democracy" arrives anytime during the calendar year 2008."

FromBillboard.com

I mainly remember Guns N' Roses for "Welcome to the Jungle", the prefered song to play in the Monterey locker room before football games in the late '80s. We'd listen to the anarchic tempos and Slash's building riffs, and then we'd go out and lose. Again.

It serves as proof that there is no music out there that makes you tougher. We could have just spent the time listening to the B-52's "Roam". Would've been in a better mood when Coach Brown spent half an hour at midfield after the game telling us how we sucked. Again.

It's the water. And maybe the meth.

I'm happy to defend Lubbock, but sometimes you just got to take the bad with the good:

LUBBOCK (AP) -- If you're looking for cavity-free pearly whites, search anywhere but Lubbock. A new study in next month's Men's Health magazine says this West Texas city has the worst teeth of the 100 large U.S. cities examined. El Paso (No. 95), San Antonio (89) and Dallas (87) weren't far ahead. The magazine said the best teeth could be found in Madison, Wis.; Nashville, Tenn.; and Raleigh, N.C.

Lubbock lives mainly on well water, which has more salt and flouride than lake water. Too much flouride will stain your teeth (but still protect against cavities). That, and I've met plenty of people from the area who see the British as a shining example of dentistry.

Hat tip: Scott

Easter vacation

Finally.

I haven't spent any significant time in Lubbock for four years. So, after giving my wife a serious guilt trip when we couldn't make it back for Christmas, I wrangled a promise that we'd go to my hometown for Easter.

That's what we've been doing for the last five days. I don't like to maintain radio silence here for so long. I wanted to blog in Lubbock, but Mom's computer decided to die -- and to not get into te Easter spirit and come back.

Anyway. No real stories to tell. It was a family vacation with no disasters. I noticed that I started off taking a lot of pictures, and then got bored. So, here's a few shots of the Lubbock trip.

Seymour road and buildings and plant life.

We stayed off the Interstates for the trip and took Route 114 instead, one of the great West Texas roads. Great because you go through Seymour, which has a Subway.

And great because you drive by some legendary Texas ranches. Route 114 goes through Guthrie, which is basically the town of the Four 6's ranch.

This week's saddle soap: Wildflower jubilee!

We stopped in Guthrie for a Coke and Feed Sam break. The town has one service station, est. 1939. I got a big kick out of a recent expansion project, which added some room in the back, plywood serving as the walls.

Meredith noticed they used whiskey and coke bottles and coffee cans to fill in the gaps on the rock wall.

Sam cried about the last hour of the trip. We got in about 4:30 and spent the rest of the day talking to my brothers and sister and letting Sam play with everyone.

The trip did a world of good for Sam. Being around all those people seemed to switch on a light for him and his personality bubbled up.

Prairie Dog Town

No one can say they've experienced Lubbock without a visit to Prairie Dog Town. It's our version on whatever cheesy thing every one else takes everyone to see when they have visitors. While we were there, an Indian (of India) family arrived -- one girl was dressed in full traditional Indian garb, and they proceeded to take many pictures of her with the prairie dogs.

Meredith and Sam, and vital history.
We saw some other stuff that day: The wineries, Texas Tech, but see above statement about taking pictures.

Baseball and George

The next day, Sam got to see his first Texas Tech sporting event. The Raiders of Red fell 3-4 after a pretty good effort against a Longhorn team that had many more grande hombres.

Sam with Grandad and mom.

And, for those who either worked at the Avalanche-Journal or lived in West Hall, yes, that's George Watson just above Meredith's head.

I keep forgetting that he has a beard and didn't recognize him until he got on the field for post-game interviews.

So we had a good trip. Kept reminding myself on the way home that we needed to do this again soon. Sometime. Within the foreseeable future. Who knows.

The broken-legged cat says goodbye.

The simple joys of launching cars into the air and shooting them

I know what to do when the Saturn finally gives out ...


http://view.break.com/175421 - Watch more free videos

Thanks to Tom.

Holy killer sting ray!

Killer sting ray!

"A woman from the Thumb was killed today when a large sting ray leaped from the water off the Florida Keys and struck her while she was with her family on a fishing boat."

I don't know. Condolences to the family, but I can think of many far less interesting ways to go, when it comes down to it.

*And I'd like to post more today, but this computer I'm on right now is so slow it took me 90 minutes just to do this.

Baby pictures pro quo

I'm happy to post the latest of Sam, so long as Mom manages to get hold of the baseball tickets.

Sam update: He's good.

More inclusive Sam update: He's been up on all fours for about two weeks now. He hasn't yet mastered the idea of moving-arms-and-legs-at-the-same-time, but he's getting there -- which we sort of dread because we're now in a race to child-proof the house. He's starting to eat solid foods and enjoys blowing bubbles, two abilities that don't mix well. Otherwise, if you've read any of the headlines from the area lately, you'll agree that me and Meredith qualify for Dallas/Fort Worth parents of the year.

Sam and a recently awakened Dad share a moment of togetherness
and a mutual attempt to avoid throwing up.

He's got the smiling part down pretty well.

He moves right now through a combination of rolling and getting up on all fours and then falling in the direction he wants to go. It's not terribly efficient, but it keeps him busy.

Memories of being 12 and awkward

This link allows you to play all Nintendo eight-bit games on your browser.

At least it's supposed to. My computer wouldn't make it go.

Itsnow

I filled the bird feeder this morning. The yard was full of birds, and the little peckers looked hungry. They definitely dug in.

And few hours later:

And still later:

This is the most I've seen it snow in the Metroplex since at least my college days. All I've wanted to do for the past six hours is nap.

Kansas City begins to bug

Oh Good Lord. In a post on barbecue regionalism that asks why can’t we all get along, I noticed this comment from a “Mike Drips”:

"I grew up in Kansas City, barbeque capital of the universe. It is truly sad to see so many people think and believe that they have eaten barbeque, when the truth is that if one has not eaten BBQ in Kansas City, then you're just kidding yourself if you think you have eaten BBQ. The only two BBQ restaurants in the greater Kansas City area that are true pure BBQ, are Gate and Bryant's. The latter is where President Truman went for BBQ. The other BBQ restaurants such as KC Masterpiece are adequate but more in line with standard dreadful restaurant BBQ that one can find anywhere. Granted, NC and TN have some claim to almost serving BBQ, but they don't reach the high standard of KC BBQ. Texans in their usual way, think that they too should be mentioned as a BBQ mecca while in fact, their BBQ is no better than what one would find in a Denny's restaurant in North Dakota."

Thing is, I’ve always wanted to go to North Carolina, Memphis, etc., to try the barbecue, which I’m sure would be great. I’d even enjoy it in KC, so long as I didn’t have to look at their women while eating. But it is senseless beyond the pale to denigrate what a Stubbs or a Harolds could do with brisket, ribs and sausage.

I’ve known three or four Kansas City people, and they are always ready to talk trash about how great the Chiefs are and how good the barbecue is. Well, we all know how good the Chiefs are ...

RiffTrax good

Oops: Hat tip to Rex 2.o, who pointed out the site a long time ago.

I keep telling the Mystery Science Theater 3000 fans I know about RiffTrax, then always forget to send them the link.

To describe it: The cast from MST3K -- Mike, Crow, Servo -- have reformed as a web service. You download a soundtrack to play along with the movie they’re making fun of.

Originally, the riff consisted only of audio, which would slowly go off track 4-5 times during the movie and you’d have to re-sync things. They’ve since improved their product and now have a DVD player you can download that will automatically sync-up to the movie soundtrack.

The great thing is that they no longer have to worry about copyright issues, so they can make fun of any movie out there. They've also had some guest riffers on, most recently Weird Al Yankovic.

So far I’ve watched Raiders of the Lost Ark, a couple of the Star Wars riffs, and Road House. All of them had me laughing until I wept. It’s worth a look for anyone who liked the old series on Comedy Central.

Anyway, I thought of posting this after they put some riffs of campaign commercials on YouTube. They're good, but the movie riffs have the most funny.

The actual site.

The blog with the commercials.

And a couple of samples below.

Behold the ToddCam

That's right, a buddy of mine has set up an internet cam for his work area in the garage.

I think. When I checked this morning it was pointed at the snow in his backyard.

Anyway, I have yet to actually make a Todd sighting, but I have seen the garage door open and shut a couple of times. So I know he's not dead.

Backpacking the Bend

I took a backpacking trip to Big Bend over the weekend. Like a moron, I forgot my camera, so here's a few shots I found on Google Images.

I went with buddies Jeremy and Clark. We left Thursday night. We were planning on getting a hotel room close to the park and starting off on a two-night trek the next day.

• Travel tip: Book your motel room in West Texas about six months in advance. $3-gallon-gasoline has set off another oil boom in the Permian Basin and trans-Pecos area, and every freakin' hotel was filled with workers. The parking lots are filled with work trucks. The lobbies are filled with surly clerks who don't even bother answering the phone after 2 a.m.

There were no rooms in Odessa or Monahans. We finally gave up at about 3:30 a.m. and found a dark place to park the car at a Fort Stockton truck stop. After six hours of using my luggage as a pillow, we stiffly drove to IHOP for breakfast and made our way to Big Bend.

And there's not too much to tell after that. Clark fell ill. Me and Jeremy could only wonder at the toughness it took for him to climb about 1,600 feet with 40 pounds on his back, but once there, and after a night of rest that didn't cure him, there wasn't much else we could do. We walked back out and went home after one night.

Still, it was enough to at least remind me of why I take these trips when I can -- walking up into the Chisos Mountains, taking in the smell of dust, sage, pine and heat-blasted rock, and pushing into one of the most remote places in the United States.

The downside would be learning how out-of-shape you are. Really, when we realized that we'd have to leave early, the main thing that came to my mind was that I was already tired, sore and filthy and wouldn't mind a shower all that much. My calves are still screaming in pain.

Washington Post on dumb women

The column I posted about below has raised the danders of many.

The Washington Post editor apparently explained it today as being tongue-in-cheek and to be taken as a joke. (Via Politico.)

Pomfret said that being an opinion article, he’s not surprised readers reacted to it strongly. But added: “Perhaps it wasn’t packaged well enough to make it clear that it was tongue-in-cheek.”
Even if intended as a joke, the Allen piece clearly isn't the best way for the Post to
achieve its goal of bringing in more women readers, and it remains to be seen if the fallout continues today.
“It’s not the first time in opinion journalism that something has fallen flat,” Pomfret said.

I dunno. I thought it was tongue-in-cheek, my wife thought it was satire -- bad satire. I guess I'm happy I'm not someone who could read something like that and think someone -- at the Post, for crying out loud -- was making a serious argument as to the inferiority of women, thereby getting my own dander up.

Of women and The Cougar

Wow.

Writer Charlotte Allen (not familiar with) pens a scathing column in the Washington Post on the stupidity of women.

No man could write something like this and expect to keep his job as Harvard University president:

What is it about us women? Why do we always fall for the hysterical, the superficial and the gooily sentimental? Take a look at the New York Times bestseller list. At the top of the paperback nonfiction chart and pitched to an exclusively female readership is Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love." Here's the book's autobiographical plot: Gilbert gets bored with her perfectly okay husband, so she has an affair behind his back. Then, when that doesn't pan out, she goes to Italy and gains 23 pounds forking pasta so she has to buy a whole new wardrobe, goes to India to meditate (that's the snooze part), and finally, at an Indonesian beach, finds fulfillment by -- get this -- picking up a Latin lover!

Even worse, she takes down Grey's Anatomy.

I think I speak for all married men when I say, "Of course I don't think women are dumber than men. Honey?"

Tho the column was funny to read. Allen briefly touches on the stupidity in men, namely the naturally induced stupidity, which has a reasonable source, and the "catastrophic stupidity."

That's the balancing part that allowed the piece to get by editors, I assume.

Most men are aware of their potential catastrophic stupidity. Most men -- except maybe the ever-so-earnest president of the coolest frat on campus back when you were in college.

...

Driving back from Big Bend Saturday on Interstate 20, I couldn't help but think of one of my episodes of catastrophic stupidity, which I now call The Cougar Incident.

With apologies to those who were expecting something completely different.

In 1999, the car I had was totalled after a collision with a drunk (uninsured, of course).

I was in some decent money at the time. So I went to the car lot, checked out some of the used vehicles, and ended up in the new section staring at the just-redesigned cougars. Love was in the air.

The stupidity reached its zenith about a year later: I was in my red, V-6 Cougar on I-20, going about 100 mph. I had no radar detector, but I did have about 10 cars following in my wake. It was dark, and I wasn't driving with my headlights so much as using the force. Every 10 minutes the pressure would get to me and I'd slow down to 90 and scream "AAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Then I'd push it back to 100. I once made the Dallas-to-Lubbock run in four hours.

After one year of ownership, I had three speeding tickets and a monthly insurance bill of $225.

I loaned the car to a guy who had some issues with medicines* of questionable legality, and in one day he managed to fire off the air bag and crack the windshield -- $2,000 of damage that I had to pay for.

I fought like a moron to hold on to that car, but I finally had to sell. By the time I handed the keys over, I was commuting from Hico to my job in Abilene because free was the only place I could afford. Didn't get completely out of debt until I got married.

Oh, the stupidity.

God I miss that car.

UPDATE: My wife, who is not terribly fond of the Post piece, says that the entire thing is satire, written so as to fold in on itself and eliminate its reason for being written. I'm thinking it's more tongue-in-cheek grousing that doesn't have to follow its own logic. We also had a strong disagreement on "zenith" vs. "nadir", which I lost. That is all.

*Tip: Don't do that.

Will be back next week

Need recovery time after this.

Dogs are awesome

No shame, but this story had me choking up:

Dennis thought he had seen the last of the dog days later when his squad headed back to its command post some 65 miles away. He couldn't take the dog with him and watched as it tried to follow the Humvees away from the border.

Two days later, while Dennis and a comrade were working on a Humvee, he looked up and saw the dog staring at him.

"Somehow that crazy damned dog tracked us," he wrote Jan. 9.

They say there are no athiests in foxholes. And no soldier ever brought back any damn cat from Iraq.

Just sayin'.

Story found on Ace.

Familiar name from the New York Times

In an article about Texas women and the Democratic primary*:

“While all those redneck bubba cowboys were driving the cattle, the women were running the ranches,” said Terri Burke, a longtime Abilene newspaper editor who was recently named executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union of Texas.

My eyebrows went up at "redneck bubba cowboys," but I'm sure the statement was made tongue-in-cheek.

Burke was hired at the Abilene Reporter-News all of two weeks after I got there.

I now know two people who have been quoted in the big two** of American newspapers: Burke in the Times and T. Wilson in the Washington Post (on being an unemployed computer guy in Texas). This means nothing, other than the fact I'm getting old.

UPDATE: My wife was not happy with my description of the story below, feeling that I neglected to note that the story did detail some of the proud history of the politically active women in the state's history, which tends to get a short shrift nationally, as everyone on the east coast thinks of us as bubba rednecks. OK.

*The point of the story: Texas women are aware of the Democratic primary. They may vote for Obama, on the other hand, they may vote for Clinton. Or maybe not.

** Also known as the "Big Three" when you include the Wall Street Journal.

Obama ad sighting

I imagine everyone else, at least everyone else who watches more TV than I do, has see many.

But there it was for me, on Saturday, as I watched the Raiders of Red keep up their losing ways to Oklahoma.

"Something somethhing Obama, something something something Obama, and I approve this message."

The first primary campaign ad. For the coupla readers I have from out of state -- we don't get many nationalized campaign ads around here. I can't even remember the last time I saw a Presidential campaign ad. Our primary is too late, usually, to make a difference, and the parties don't even bother putting up a fight here in November.

We tend to save our campaign stupidity for the statewide elections.

And it gets pretty stupid. I still recall Tony Sanchez's run in 2004, where I knew nothing about his politics, only that he thought he could win by showing a video recording of Rick Perry trying to weasel his way out of a speeding ticket. And he showed that ad about 898,567 times per channel.

Perry: Can't you just let us get back on down the road?
Cue dark music.
Announcer: Rick Perry, why don't we just let HIM get back on down the road?

Good God. That'll be running around in my head until death for no good reason. I was worried, that, if Sanchez won, it'd be the theme of his governance.

• Our campaign is back on the road ... and crossing the finish line ... with the most speed!
• Let's put teenage pregnancy back on down the road!
• Let's put roadway litter back on down the road!
• Senate Bill 19, subset 55, regarding the taxation of natural resources under the management of non-native third party interests, can get back on the road.

I'd usually bemoan the fact that we're in for a short burst of this nonsense, but I'm kind of looking forward to it. We haven't seen two top national political campaigns desperate for votes go after each other like Rocky and the Russian for a long time. This should be kind of fun.

And it's good for newspapers, which might actually see some new ad revenue for once.

Ha!

Another entry in the vein of posting-something-so-I-don't-have-to-write-some-of-the-stuff-I'm-thinking-about-right-now-because-I'm-not-in-the-mood. That vein. I could go for a Coke.

Something for the weekend

Got this while visiting my usual political haunts. I don't think it's political. But I could be wrong.

Smoke on the water. In the land of the rising sun.



I like the sound, tho the singing parts tend to raise my Spock eyebrow.

It's fun to see big editors blast each other

Kind of like watching two battleships go at it from a row boat's vantage point.

Anyway: The link shows how the state editor at the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette decided not to go quietly, dropping along a few f-bombs, sexism complaints and so on in her goodbye note, which is then answered by another editor, who blows her off.

I've visited the Democrat-Gazette a couple of times, but the only thing I remember about it was that it seemed to be a lively place.

Tri-weekly baby picture update

A couple of shots from Sam, who has entered the overalls and rides-in-the-stroller-without-the-baby-seat phase. And has a serious side.

A-J sports editor leaving

Huh. Just heard that Lubbock Avalanche-Journal sports editor Patrick Gonzales has accepted a position as assistant sports editor in Detroit.

Patrick's a good guy. I crashed on his couch a few times in Abilene when I was having heating issues with my house.

Can't find an announcement anywhere. Best of of luck to him.

Neat-o

The reason Stradivariusesses are the best violins.

Quick links

Going around the internet this morning:

Weird stuff about your favorite toys. This is great info to have at a party after everyone's had two beers and starts talking about their childhood.

The Bible, as done by Lego. Several hundred illustrations. Handy as a Cliff Notes for Sunday school.

Texas Monthly: Of Lajitas and the steak whisperer

It's fun to nitpick Texas Monthly: It attempts to mix the fashion consciousness of Vanity Fair with the Texnicity of your cowhand grandpa, often with some weird results.

But two articles in the December edition are definitely worth reading.

One details the rise and fall of the big time resort at Lajitas, as envisioned by big rich guy Steve Smith. Smith made his fortune in Austin, bought Lajitas on a whim, then decided to make a destination spot for the rich and famous. Not that anyone famous ever showed up to pay $33 for a breakfast of coffee, orange juice, fruit and Special K.

The story goes into the amazing stupidity of the entire project on many levels: People not understanding that a brutal desert may not be the best place for championship golf course, resort executives dumb enough to insult a waitress' honor in close-knit Terlingua, turning the local convenience store and gathering place into a knick-knack shop with a coffee bar.

Definitely a good read. The Lajitas story hits a nerve with people. I'll even occasionally get a hit on the post I wrote after hearing of the resort's bankruptcy last year.

Also of interest: Steak.

The magazine lists the best (?) Texas steak restaurants.*

I don't have much of dog in this fight (I wonder how long we'll be able to say that?). Steak is expensive, and I'm happy to eat it once a month off of the Foreman grill, tho I am starting to experiment with marinades.

Still, it's pleasant to see that the Perini Ranch in Buffalo Gap was named No. 3, after a couple of metropolitan-type restaurants I have no interest in going to.

Perini's is easily my favorite steak place: It's basically just a bunch of buildings on an old family ranch converted into a restaurant. The recipes are highly original, yet familiar, and the service is friendly. They aren't putting on airs just because Robert Duvall stops by every chance he gets.

And the story even mentions the Hico Steak Cookoff, via a list of tips from a two-time champion who claims the steak "talks" to him.

*TM does a good job of showing our priorities. The steak article got the cover, the story on the best schools in the state got a small stamp on the cover.

Beware the attic

While checking our attic recently for dead rats, I came across a mostly empty cardboard box that contained a couple of plastic jack-o'-lanterns and this:

My wife was scared of what I might write here, but I have just a few thoughts:

• You'd think, when moving, that packing ALL your S&M gear would be a priority.
• The peacock feathers on the crotch of the leather-thong jockstrap -- nice touch.
• Some of you may be slightly titillated. All I can think about? The people in this house before us consisted of two middle-aged chunky dudes who kept about 15 cats.
• At least I don't have to worry about my Halloween costume this year.

Good Knight, night

The news that Bobby Knight was resigning made me want to talk to someone, and I had ESPN on all day at work. It's interesting -- I got a call from a friend who had just seen the story at the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal web site, before anyone else had it. It was interesting to watch it blow up.

I thought I would have something lengthy to say about Knight, but I don't. He did good things for Tech, he's a complex guy who scares the hell out of most of the people he comes across. I'm sad. I listened to Knight being lionized, I listened to the usual scorn heaped upon Texas Tech.

But all of these things had been covered by ESPN and sports radio by the time I got home*. Even the headline for this post has probably been used 800,000 times in the last 30 years. So, no reason to join this conversation.

It's over. Good luck to Pat.

*Actually, one thing I didn't hear discussed was how much his personna, or the perception of it, was influenced by the movie "Patton." It's obvious that the character Scott created, not necessarily the actual Patton, was the basis for the way the public interpreted "The General." I think.

Super

To be honest, I was surprised by the outcome of the game. I, like every other person, thought the Pats would win. I thought, and think, that all the sports pundits picking the Giants had more to do with them wanting to see New England go down.

But I don't see it as the greatest shocker ever. New England had limped through the playoffs. The Giants were on a roll and just kept getting better. I was thinking close game going in.

And the game was boring until the final 10 minutes. Then it was pretty good. At Scott's mighty Super Bowl party, it was funny. Everyone talked during the game, then got quiet to watch the commercials.

My favorite was the one with the animals screaming.

And, for a nice little cap on the season. The video below wasn't posted originally because I thought everyone had already seen it. Just in case you haven't, it was the funniest thing I saw last month. Go Raiders.

Salty subtitle warning.

Roll on

Sam first figured out, sort of, how to roll more than a month ago. We encouraged him to do it more than the two times that he did, but he didn't seem interested, and one of the 937 books that Meredith has read on child rearing said it was OK -- if he was't interested you don't have to worry about it.

But, at his four-month checkup, our doctor advised that we go ahead and work on it. And a couple of days later:

Here's Sam on the floor. Here's Sam, deciding he wants to check out his copy of Baby's Ivanhoe.
And swing the arm around ...

And you have it.
He seems to have it down pretty well -- roll, grab toy, puke on toy, scream. Rolling is now his favorite thing to do, followed by eating and screaming. And he really loves to scream.

The only problem is that we now have to worry about this:

ESPN.Com does Wes Welker

Decent little story on my favorite player, save maybe Zach Thomas.

I was at Jones Stadium when Wes Welker set the NCAA record for punt returns for a touchdown.

Now with the Patriots, Welker's success has given a lot of hope to short stumpy white boys everywhere. Still, reading the story, you see how the family's devotion to the game borders on fanaticism. I imagine it'd take that kind of faith and determination for a guy like Welker to make it, but you worry about everyone else with the same faith that just isn't going to have that kind of success.

With the Super Bowl coming up, it's kind of hard to root for a team that is so obviously not the underdog and takes itself too seriously at the same time. But I'm rooting for them because of Welker, and he makes it a lot easier to do so.

Frozen chicken fire in Irving

Star-Telegram:

IRVING — A fire Thursday night destroyed dozens of packages of frozen chicken at Trinity Valley food. The fire started in a neighboring building and spread to the refrigerated building.

"Engine 13 reporting at scene ... And this disaster smells Deelicious."

Find your candidate

My wife sent me this:

The VaJoe.com Presidential Campaign calculator.

I went through it, the questions mostly seeming somewhat relevant. And my candidate is:

"Tom Tancredo"

WTF. Tancredo? I’m not voting for some fringe dude whose primary goal is to talk about illegal aliens, an issue I have mixed feelings about.

The quiz is useless without this question:

Would you vote for:

• Someone who saw a UFO on an acid trip with Shirley MacLaine?
• Someone who speaks incessantly of the gold standard and transmitters in our money?
• Someone on the fringety fringe of fringeness, who would not get elected even if a disaster of historic proportions managed to take out everyone else running for president?
• Someone within the ballpark of "normal," at least as far as politicians go?

Dropping in on Abilene

With addendum.

I don’t make it a habit to drop in on the Abilene Reporter-News web site, but sometimes I just get a feeling that I need to visit my old stomping grounds, and I’m usually not disappointed.

Today was no exception.

‘Girls Gone Wild’ event canceled after outcry

I wonder why the nightclub caved? Did the police threaten to arrest everyone within a city block? Was Joe Allen’s withholding barbecue privileges?

And they wonder why no one under 40 wants to live there. When GGW came to Denton and UNT, the Chamber of Commerce gave 'em the key to the city.*

*Kidding.

Addendum:
Me: So, you know I think Girls Gone Wild is a slimy organization that takes of advantage of women with esteem issues?

Wife: Yes.

Me: And they’re also a shoddy company. One of those places, that according to friends, you’d never want to have your credit card number.

Wife: Yes.

Me: And any dude who’s married and into that deserves to be skewered.

Wife: Uh-huh.

Me: I’m just sayin’, of all the places to turn it away, it’s Abilene. It’s like living up to your own cliche isn’t accidental so much as the purpose of your existence.

Wife: Yeah.

Me: That’s all.

Hard shot

Before Christmas, we ran this adorable photo of Sam for a greeting.

My wife said it took a lot of work. I was messing around, going through the shots on the camera today and saw just how much work.

Take this as a cautionary study into the photography of 3-month-olds.

My pizza hut of love

For my combined Christmas-birthday present this year, my wife gave me a pizza stone.


Ever since I quit working at Central Market, I've wanted to re-create the pizzas I made there. So far, I haven't come close. My crust is too chewy and the sauce is missing something key. Still, you can do pretty good things with stuff at home.


The stone's purpose is to absorb moisture and heat the crust evenly. Kind of like a brick oven panel for the typical oven.


This is the best one I've done so far.




No, pizza does not fit into the diet plan. Thanks for pointing that out.

Stephenville UFOs and other sightings

Brought to my attention by Alicia.

Actually, I wanted to write a little more on the Flippin deal and respond to Dave, but here's some junk that's been stuck in my mind recently.

"UFOs" "sighted" in Stephenville

Chamber of commerce shot.

Story here

For a tad of background, Stephenville is 20 miles north of Hico. I worked there while I was living in Hico. And I can say:

• No, I never saw one.
• Yes, the place has a drug problem like any small town.
• No, this isn't because of the drugs.
• And not because of any other small-town stereotypes you want to throw out there like a cow chip.

And I don't really have much in the way to make of jokes, because I don't believe in UFOs and making fun of it would be too easy.

I think that rural areas have more UFO sightings because the sky is clearer at night, you can see more stars, and therefore you see more planes and whatnot to report as UFOs. The weird part of the story (the original, the S-T has run this baby two days in a row) is the way everyone gives out estimated measurements of what they saw that just fly in the face of credibility.

One dude said that he saw the craft hovering "about 300 feet off the ground." Another dude said he saw a craft that was "about half a mile long."

Uh-huh. What made you think half-a-mile was the correct measurement there, Sparky? It looked bigger than Tarleton Memorial Stadium? You got some kind of aeronautical ruler that pops out of your thumb?

Anyway, no offense to the people who saw whatever the saw. I imagine they're telling the truth, but I can just think of about 10 other things off the top of my head that it might have been other than L. Ron Hubbard coming back.

Dog translator!

Dog translator! Awesome.

Though, I already know my dogs would say:

"Dude. You promised a real backyard and that we could kill the Evil Cat. Well? Well!? And thanks for the food. I love my ball."

Dumb advice
The MSN Hotmail login page always includes various feature stories on dating and work and fashion and dating. Generally the stories are lame, but I read one the other day that reached a new level of complete waste of space: 13 things not to share at work.

I read this because I thought they might have some juicy examples, and who knows, I might learn something. But, no examples. And here's some of the things that are off-limits:

• What people make
• What's going on with you health-wise
• Gossip
• Complaints about work
• How much you spent on that doo-dad or suit
• Your sex life
• Politics or religion
• Criticism of other people
• Your hangover
• Your personal life
• Your racist opinions

Wow, they really went out on a limb there, what with saying racism is bad as we near the 50th anniversary of the civil rights act.

And for the other stuff: Apparently, you should avoid talking to everyone at work as much as possible.

And once again, I'm well ahead of the curve.

Diet

Last week began the self-immolation of my own body fat, and it was a miserable three days. Right now I'm on break.

The perfect time to diet is when you’re unemployed. You set your schedule (around the boy’s naps) and it’s a lot easier to come up with distractions for the hunger when you’re not forced to sit at a desk for eight hours and think. And I can take naps more often.

I’ve started a fairly extreme regimen, one meal – breakfast – followed only by fruit snacks or maybe a salad for the rest of the day.

This all goes to pot when I have to work my two work shifts per week, but that won’t last long as they’ve hired my replacement.

Mainly what I’ve noticed about hunger is that it has a focusing effect. I wanted to work on the blog, but all I could think about was food. I thought about what I was having for breakfast the next day, and what kind of waffles I could come up with.

I thought about road trips and the possible eating stops.

I don’t know what day I’m going to the Fort Worth Stock Show, but I do know that it’s going to be splurge day and I’m going to have the Frito pie, a Stockyard cinnamon roll (described by the Star-Telegram as unadulterated sin) and perhaps a cowboy burrito.

Afterwards, I’ll die, with my heart going "pop" loud enough to cause a ruckus in the Goat Barn.

Wish me luck.

Flippin mad

Perry Flippin was a longtime columnist for the San Angelo Standard-Times. I read the first three paragraphs of many of his articles. (Sorry, I like San Angelo, but the guy was locally focused and I could never get into what he was talking about.)

I said "was" because he was recently fired for budgetary reasons, and in his final column, he chose to go out guns blazing. My wife brought this to my attention last week, but I forgot to get around to it. Then, when I got to work Sunday, I noticed it had made the rounds on the office e-mail.

He’s gotten a lot of "preach on, brother," praise from a lot of sources. My basic reaction: I respect anyone who goes out calling things like he sees him, but I don’t see anything as new information, and like most speaking-truth-to-power rants, it tends to leave a lot out.

So, as I drank way too much coffee today and need to burn off some energy, here are some excerpts from the column with my reactions. I’ve also been hearing people complain about this for a long time, so I’m letting some steam off myself.

Here’s a link to the whole column.

Excerpts in italics.

"Today, instead of serving primarily as watchdogs, we deliver entertainment fodder interspersed with glitzy ads for consumers. The newspaper's value is measured not by how well it reflects and elevates its community, but by how much money it makes.

I have always respected newspapers as truth-tellers, but we have studiously avoided disclosing just how profitable newspaper publishing is. For a clue, stroll through William Randolph Hearst's magnificent California castle, San Simeon."

Yes, the castle was built from the 1920s –’40s by a family who took truth-telling so seriously they bragged about starting the Spanish-American war on over-hyped and probably incorrect information. Anybody building a castle lately?

I’m doubtful of anyone who tells me that a newspaper was once judged by "how well it reflects and elevates its community," especially after bringing up the Hearst papers as a model.

Kind of like your Mom and Dad telling you about how sex never happened outside of marriage back in the day. Everyone just got married by 21 and babies tended to arrive about six months later.

Rule of life, No. 47: Someday, when you are older, you will probably want to project your loss of innocence onto society as a whole. Don’t do that.

"Publishers sold their souls on the notion that only the immediate bottom line matters. I believe newspapers are slowly committing suicide to satisfy corporate moguls and grasping stockholders.

How do CEOs earn fat bonuses? In part, by putting loyal and talented employees such as me on the street.
...
Yet the salvation of newspapers may come only when Wall Street gets out of the news biz and puts presses back in the hands of private owners - as it was before this roller coaster ride began."

He’s dead-on about corporations bleeding newspapers dry, cutting their best people and refusing to hire and train the next generation.

Still, the real question is why. If the primary motivation is greed, and you have smart business-type people running these corporations, why run these businesses into the ground? Why not take a short-term profit-cut to keep your industry at a healthy level and bringing in the cash for decades to come? That makes no sense ...

"Complicating the outlook is the ever-evolving technology that brings vast information reserves to tiny instruments, such as the iPhone. Hundreds of video channels come streaming off satellites.

None of those sources, however, will cover a local City Council meeting, or check the local police blotter or staff the local football game."

A gizmo can’t cover a council meeting, but someone with an iPhone can cover a city council meeting and not have to pay for paper and buy gas for trucks to take it to your house.

As a complete non-expert, I’m giving it about 20 years until the idea of a paper newspaper will be quaint. I grew up hearing that newspapers will survive until everyone starts taking their computer with them to their bathroom.

Now you can take it with you to the bathroom, the elevator and your wife’s hospital room after the baby’s delivered.

Part of me groans at the idea: The newsroom of frantic typing, cursing, smoking, drinking is dead. The paper bought in tons and the ink by the barrel, the final product pored over by customers hungry for information. Of course, it was dead even before I got into the business.

By high school, the number of people who read the paper consisted of me and my fellow journalism students. It’s done nothing but go down.

Besides, if we’re supposed to be so environmentally concerned, where do we get off blowing through as much paper as we do and then using a gas-heavy distribution system?

"Storytelling can't be automated."

Actually, it can be.

"When employees are regarded merely as interchangeable parts, casualties such as me become collateral damage in the never-ending drive to maintain unrealistic profit margins.
I believe the lives and health of Americans are being sacrificed in the interest of corporate greed.

The problem is much broader than the newspaper industry. Similar conditions prevail in retailing, medicine, education, transportation, manufacturing - practically any endeavor that preaches the heresy of "do more with less."

Let's be truthful: We're doing less with less."

People love to go all teeth-gnashy about corporations, and it’s often well-deserved. But most people who have spent some time in the business know the only thing worse than working for corporate-owned newspaper is working for a non-corporate-owned newspaper.

There have always been some exceptions, but most family-owned papers were (are) hit-and-miss operations. And usually they’d miss.

You’d end up working as the publisher’s publicity hit man, attacking people he wanted attacked, ignoring the things he wanted ignored. I recall people talking about having to write positive "news" stories on a new real-estate development that just happened to be owned by the publisher’s son.

And the policy decisions could verge on the insane. Once a journalism prof told me about a publisher at a paper roughly the size of the one in Denton, around 20,000 circulation.

The owner’s wife decided that the paper needed a fashion reporter. So they hired one, and sent her to a fashion show in PORTUGAL.

And don't even bother trying to hold them to some reasonable approximation of labor laws.

It’s easy to forget that a lot papers became a lot more professional over time as corporations took over and the boss became accountable to someone else.

"I remember the good ol' days, before everyone was obsessed with 40 percent "retention" and a thousand points of marketing bullwhiz."

I wish my Grandpa were still around to tell me what "bullwhiz" means.

"It's hard to remember when people loved newspapers more than they loved money."

I’ll bet it is, because it never happened.

Here’s what I think the deal is. Newspapers are dying, but it's a natural death. The idea of waiting for news doesn't make a lot of sense when you can get it instantaneously from as many sources as you want.

Papers are no longer a growth industry in the U.S. Corporate-types know this, so the plan is bleed papers dry and earn as much money as possible. Everyone is moaning that the family-owned operations wouldn’t have done this, but the families were the ones who decided to sell as soon as the price was right and the going got tough.

The worry – the web sites that crop up in the newspapers' place are going to have a scrunching effect on the industry. The press room disappears. The circulation department goes away.

I imagine they’ll hardly bother with photographers anymore, and just give most reporters cameras.

And I worry about the people who’ve given their lives to the job, and whether they’ll be able to find a decent place to go and have the opportunity to tell good stories.

But newspapers? Be prepared to move on.

Parenting differences

My wife is sitting on the floor with Sam, during "tummy time", a kind of learning activity thing that the books say we should be doing.

Meredith: Are we going to roll now? Yes! That’s a good job, such a good job! There you go Sam. Sam, do you know you’re name? It’s 'Sam' ...

Sam lies on his back, looks up at Mom and says "goo."

Meredith: OK. Now lie on your stomach. Work your legs. That’s a good Sam. You’re doing such a good job. You’re getting so big! Way to go Sam!

Sam, lying on his stomach, frantically, moves his arms and legs, but can’t go far as his belly keeps him firmly attached to earth. Sam looks at the padded play mirror and smiles.

Meredith: Good job Sam! That's you! Let’s sing a song ...

Later ...

I’m sitting on the floor with Sam during tummy time.

Me: Good boy.

Sam lies on his back and stares at my forehead. "Goo."

Me: Good job.

Sam arches his back, which I take as a cue to turn him over.

Me: Attaboy.

Sam lays his head down on the floor, looks into the padded play mirror and smiles.

Me: (Pause)

Sam looks at the padded play mirror.

Me: Well, c’mon boy. Mush!

Part-time fun

After two weeks, finally got back to the Denton Record-Chronicle to work a couple of shifts. I agreed to fill in part-time after I left. Finding a sports copy editor isn’t easy, and I needed the money.

I realized quickly what I didn’t miss: the rush at deadline and the lingering fear that hits you driving home that maybe you misspelled "Ohio" in a 70-point bold sans serif head on the front page.

But I have missed some things. Getting out of the house by myself. Coffee binging. Adult conversation (And by adult conversation, I mean a discussion over whether a blog post about Tony Romo’s face melting off pushed the envelope a wee bit much).

It was a little weird to be back. When I came in on Sunday, there was only one guy in the sports department, and all that he could manage after two weeks was an almost silent "eh" when I sat down. Yep, back in sports. Everyone treats everyone like a complete bastard.

A Chuck Norris fact I haven't seen before

Chuck Norris understands the ending to 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Heh. I read the book and still can't be sure.

Back, with notes

Hello. It’s been something like 87 days since I last posted. Didn’t mean to take this long of a break, but I’ve kinda just spent the last three weeks rebooting after THE CHANGE.

This post is long and scattered.

Home life
Sam is napping right now. Actually, it’s this half-whining/half-napping thing he does when he’s too tired to do anything, but doesn’t like being tired. He’s really good at starting this thing at 5:30 in the morning.

I don’t really feel like I’ve stopped working and become the master of my domestic domain. It’s more like I’m just on extended leave and will return to work soon. It’s better to look at it that way than to start fretting over the job search and get all panicky.

My days more or less follow a routine:

6:30 a.m.: Wake up, eat breakfast or, if Sam is awake, feed him, then feed self.

7:30 a.m.: Entertain Sam by laying him on his stomach and then asking him to do things in a childish voice.

Why is the childish voice necessary? He has two syllables so far – "Ah" and "Goo." Does it matter to him if I add silly wittle soundsy at the ends of my wordsy?

9 a.m.: Hand Sam off to Mom, take nap.

1 p.m. – 3 p.m.: Take Sam back from Mom, repeat entertaining and feeding schedule interspersed with naps, which allow me to get ahead of the chores or goof off. Mainly goof off.

9 p.m.: Bed time.

The wardrobe of the stay-at-home dad.
Monday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Tuesday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Wednesday: Fleece pants, T-shirt.
Thursday: Shorts, T-shirt, flannel shirt.
Friday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.

Sometimes I go nuts and bother putting on tennis shoes.

Christmastime, was here, time to spread some cheer
This year I made my first egg nog.

As the recipe seemed a little large for me and a couple of friends. I halved it. There were some problems: I didn’t have any nutmeg, and I beat the mixture a little too long and made it too fluffy.

Also, I forgot to halve the amount of liquor in the drink, and I also put in the amount the recipe required to make it "strongly spirited."

Hence, I had an egg nog that would’ve fueled Santa’s sleigh -- if Santa’s sleigh had flames on the side and the deer wore black studded leather.

Christmas take
I didn’t get any earth-shattering presents this year, but I got some nice stuff.

Thanks to some amazon gift certificates, I have a new sleeping bag for some trips I hope to be taking soon. My wife gave me a pizza stone (Yes, it’s what I asked for.) I’ll have some pictures of that. It allows me to attempt to produce what I was making when I was working for the Central Market café. I’ll just say that I’m not close. I gave my wife the thick, pink flannel pajamas that she asked for.

My family draws names for gift giving, and we set a $20 limit, which all of us break, on presents.

Thing is, we used to buy each other actual presents. Now, the entire routine has boiled down into asking where they like to shop, and then getting a gift certificate to that place.

Not wanting to do this, I gave my brother a hydration pack from Cabela’s. He said "Thanks," but I could tell he would’ve preferred the gift certificate.

I dunno. Gift certificates don’t show much effort. But since everyone has price limits, exactly what are you going buy that’s worth a damn?

Picture
At the family shindig in Hico, I was really happy to get this picture.

That’s Sam with his great grandparents, father’s mother’s side. Harold and Theda V are doing good, but it’s hard to get to see them as often as I’d like. Grandma played with Sam for quite some time before he got impatient. Don’t worry about my Grand dad. Tell him that you like the Dallas Cowboys, and remember that he served in World War II and doesn’t talk about it.

Some thoughts after the Gator Bowl

• Yahoo!
• God loves Mike Leach.
• The TV color guy got excited and said "The Raiders are set to run the table next year!" I’m sure every Tech fan across the country immediately thought we’d been jinxed.
• Next season, Texas Football will pick Tech to finish behind Oklahoma, Texas, Oklahoma State, Texas A&M and TCU for good measure.

Calling down time

Just to let folks know. I'm finishing up my last shift at work now, and will otherwise be too busy with holiday things soon to post.

See you after Christmas. Or maybe the new year's.

Be well

Merry Christmas to all, may your holidays be charmed,

My wife said if I didn't post this, she'd cause bodily harm.

Christmas comes early

Jackson and New Line reach an agreement to produce The Hobbit.

Yep, I'm already jumping on one foot to the other in anticipation. I don't get why he needs to do two films, but whatever.

Another plus, I won't have to bother reading "The Hobbit" to Sam. Now I can just take him to the movie. And buy the video game(s). Awesome.

Awwwww ...

Granola chick lives in a log cabin with a little baby coyote and her cat.

Won't be so cute once the pup decides to cash in all of Morriss' nine lives, but for now it's cool.

When life gives you sausage ...

You're not going to take it. At least not in the 12 ounce size.

Friend at work passed this on. Funniest thing I've heard this month. Warning: Bad words. Man gets intense about Jimmy Dean. And his little plump Scottish girl.

News

It’s now official at work, so I’m passing on the news here.

I’m quitting my job. (Don’t say "Again?")

I’ve had some good times at the Denton Record-Chronicle, but I’m leaving my full-time job as assistant sports editor in a couple of weeks.

My wife’s family leave time is about up.

Whereas:

• We both work night shifts.
• There is no such thing as late-night day care.
• Meredith makes, like, a bajillion more than I do.

I have to quit my job so she can go back to work. This is not the ideal situation for either of us. I realize this is not the prevailing view right now, but I strongly believe that a boy needs his Mama at this point in his life a lot more than he needs Daddy. (Sam’s Mama agrees.)

And I really wish Daddy had some kind of job that could make this situation possible. But, after about a year of searching, nothing has panned out so far. I even applied to graduate school, but got rejected by North Texas because 10 years ago I made a D in chemistry. I wanted a public relations degree. (With a thanks here to Dave and John for saying they’d vouch for me. I may need you later.)

So we’re kind of left in a lurch right now. It hit me the other day, how I used to make fun of women over the biological clock thing. (I recall bringing one girl to tears just by repeating "tick-tock" until she broke.)

Now I’m faced with my own countdown. I don’t just want a job to eke out a living on the edge.

I’m like everyone else, I want to contribute, be in the center of things, make my mark. The problem is that the older you get, the time you have left to establish yourself in any given field diminishes, the amount of time you have for people to take you seriously when you’re starting off gets smaller and smaller and smaller.

So I’m considering this a short window of opportunity to figure out what I’m going to do.

I’m also looking forward to some aspects of life as Mr. Mom: Teach the boy things, get in shape, work more on this blog and other projects. My wife says the extra time is an illusion, but at the very least I’ll be back on daylight hours, which will be no small joy.

I’ll miss the Record-Chronicle. The atmosphere there is laid back, loud, eclectic. It was almost a college atmosphere, and reminded me of why I thought I would in the very least have fun as a journalist when I graduated.

Still, as an assistant sports editor, I’d stepped about as high up the career ladder in sports as I could go. I don’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of any sport, and I don’t want to spend the next three years of my life learning that knowledge so that I can then graduate to running agate at a mid-major for $45,000 a year.

So, for the time being. I’ll be going to part-time at the Record-Chronicle until they hire a replacement, I find another job, or we both lose interest.

Meredith (God bless her) will go back to work. I’ll be at home with Sam.

And we’ll all be working toward changing things around.

Fat cats

On Friday, The Fort Worth Star-Telegram printed what I think is the terminal article on a feature about, yes, pets and weight loss.

A couple of months back they started running a series about overweight pets and, gameshow like, kept a running tally on their efforts to lose weight. (Sample article here.)

I would look at the pictures during the series because I like critter shots and these were even better -- freak critter shots that raised my self-esteem about my own pets.

But I could never bring myself to read the articles, for the simple reason that the premise of the whole series was based on a problem that, as far as I could tell, the writer managed to go three months without facing:

They're freakin' dogs. (And a few cats.)

Want JoJo to to lose weight? Howsabout you don't shove so much food down his pie-hole?

He's a domesticated dog. He's not going to develop an opposable thumb and go refrigerator raiding at 2 a.m. Dominoes don't know what "arf" means. Fido ain't going to sneak out through the fire escape, scarf down a large double-meatsa, sprint towards the nearest KFC and later wake up, covered in feathers next to a naked Michael Moore*.

Both of my dogs have looked chunky from time to time. Know what I did? I cut back on their food supply. They lost weight. Why the hell didn't I get my picture in the paper?

It doesn't compare to humans. We've all gone through times when we didn't have anything better to do than not eat another donut. I even have a kind of admiration for those with girth who carry it around without complaining. It's an anti-establishment statement for the times we live in.

But dogs and cats? No excuses, sorry. Just don't feed'em.

*On second thought, that could happen.

Fantasyland

We're beginning playoffs in both fantasy leagues that I'm playing in. And for the first time, I'm a higher seed than my opponent in one, and I'm actually getting a bye in the other.

I've never done this well. Of course, I didn't pick either of my teams and I've refused any and all trade offers since.

But that just shows I'm learning.

More notes ...

Things I thought about writing about over Thanksgiving, but forgot.


Gibberish talk
My wife tells me that I must stop speaking gibberish to the child, as per orders of one of the roughly 38 books on baby raising that now sit on top of our coffee table. It has something to do with the synapses of his brain. Also, some of the sounds I make come close to some politically incorrect words, and I should add that making gooby-boo noises over and over again really annoys my woman.

Still. I’ve realized recently that the first few months after his child’s birth is about the only time in a man’s life when he gets away with making nonsense noises. And I’ve realized that making these noises is fun. Therefore, the gibberish will continue. Besides, Sam seems to like it for now.

He may think differently when he graduates high school, but we’ll work through it.


BCS situation
Listening to the talk over Thanksgiving in Hico, I realized that I’m the only college football postseason traditionalist in my family.

"Traditionalist" being defined as someone who likes something the way it is. What I don’t like is this week of the year, when the entire sporting nation goes all teeth-gnashy about the lack of a college football playoff and the way it’s turning the game into an addled farce.

My basic argument: Yeah right. College football is being killed by the lack of a playoff. People are turning away from college football in droves. All those new stadium building projects are sad statements based on the false hope that people can some how be fooled into buying tickets for just one more farcical season.

I have more thought-out arguments, but this is the first thing that came into my mind at dinner after a brother-in-law described the current bowl system as "socialism."


King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters
Official site here

I plan on writing more about this movie, but for right now, I'll definitely give it a high recommendation. The basic premise: Geeks fight over the world record of Donkey Kong, the ’80s video game. I cheered loud enough to wake up my child. The story is better than anything Hollywood has come up with in the last few years. The villain is probably the most entertaining character in movies this year and the soundtrack consists of a lot of ’80s songs that have been playing in my head since. Good times.