I Hate Dragonforce

My kids and I agree on a lot of stuff. We like the same music, the same movies and the same computer games. That worries me. What if they are just going along with what I want? I fear I am stifling their own interests by pushing my ideas on them. I was relieved when I heard a band they really liked (Dragonforce.) They suck. Hard.

Dragonforce to me, sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. No, it's worse. Maybe the fingernails of a yowling tomcat on a chalkboard. And its testicles are being squeezed in a hose clamp.

Now I know how my father felt when I made him listen to Rush.

Good Bad Horror Movies

A guy I know has a screenplay that made it to the quarterfinals at Slamdance. (It's a horror-comedy about an alcoholic vampire.) Looking at the list of the competitors is its own horror show. My favorite titles are (in alphabetical order):

• Alligators: Orgy of Destruction
• Bride of Christ ... Bride of Frankenstein!
• Dead Rabbits
• I Was A Sexy Werewolf (Too Bad For You)
• Porn Star Zombies
• Undead Waitress
• Yacht Zombie Christmas - A Lesbian's Worst Nightmare

It makes me want to buy a digital camera and make some of these . . .

MMOMFs

I don't understand the allure of multiplayer online games. If I loved people so damn much, I'd be out slumming with the hoi polloi instead of in the dark hunched over a keyboard.

I enjoy turn-based strategy games, but the best one online is multiplayer-only. I must have been really bored because I recently gave it another chance. After some time spent being rejected by players who deemed me unworthy of their time, I found a willing opponent. Shortly after the game started, the d00d began complaining that I blocked his attacks and he couldn't block mine and thus, he concluded, "it wasn't fair". I was attempting to explain the blocking rules (and how it was fair) when he quit the game.

Could a sane person describe this experience as "fun"? I wish the developers of Tactics Arena Online would create an AI opponent. I occasionally tolerate humans, but I'd prefer to interact with something more intelligent.

Jerry Springer's Paternity Tests of Heat Miser and Snow Miser

In Rankin and Bass's The Year Without a Santa Claus, Snow Miser refers to Heat Miser as his step brother, but they both fawn over Mother Nature. Logically, if they are step-brothers they are unrelated and can't both be Mother Nature's children. I can see them being half-brothers (both Mrs. N's kids, but with clearly different fathers.) Even so, I am starting to suspect the whole story was just made up.

Curse of the Shark-Eyed Baby

Near the cash register at a local pancake restaurant there is a box that begs for change through an unholy alliance with some doll-eyed demon fetus. Spooky.

This picture needs a good caption. How about "Yesssss, stare into my lifeless eyes long enough for me to unhinge my jaw and DEVOUR YOUR FACE!"

Old Mannerisms

I was accused of not being old enough to be a grumpy old man. Bah! I am old at heart and that's what counts. For proof, I'll spin a tale of my infamous shenanigans.

In aught three I think it was (summer of the big heat wave) I was relaxing on my davenport looking dapper in new slacks, cardigan and slip-on loafers. While watching Murder She Wrote (Angela Lansbury sure is the bee's knees) I heard a ruckus over by my automobile. I donned my spectacles and galoshes to go see what all the commotion was about.

I spied a group of ankle-biters in their dungarees and shirtsleeves skylarking under my veranda! When I shook my fist and yelled "Cut the horseplay, you hoodlums!" they skedaddled.

Old man Chris doesn't take guff from the likes of those whippersnappers.

Chris's Household Tips for Men #2

While sitting on the floor playing video games, a tennis shoe makes an excellent beer cozy.

Kooks

A kook is somebody who holds an unpopular belief even though it makes no sense whatsoever. But what would you call somebody who holds a popular but ridiculous belief? You don't call them anything. It's perfectly normal.

I Like Candles

Is it girly to like candles? It shouldn't be. Candles are portable indoor fire; how tough is that? As long as you don't use ceramic candle holders shaped like colonial children or something similar. Keep your candle holders manly. Stick to wrought iron, or maybe a skull.

Utility Belt

With the plethora of portable devices today (phone, PDA, iPod, leatherman) I feel I need a utility belt. But I would have to add a grappling hook to it because what's the point of a utility belt without a grappling hook?

Chris's Household Tips for Men #1

Buy canned fruit.

It is cheap, delicious, good for you and can last in the back of your cupboard for years until you run out of food and are too lazy to go shopping.

Steamed and Soaked in Butter

Artichokes are vegetarian lobster.

Coffee Suicide

After ingesting a fair amount of caffeine today, I became curious as to how much coffee I would have to drink to risk death from overdose.

Almost every substance has toxicity data obtained from dosing a group of rats until half of them die. That amount divided by the weight of the rat is called the "LD50". According to wikipedia, the LD50 for caffeine is 192 mg/kg. We'll assume that is enough to kill me, or at least make me wish I were dead. To answer my question, I simply need to convert this figure to cups of coffee per me.

1 kg = 2.2 lbs
Chris = 180 lbs (of solid muscle!)
cup of coffee = 100mg

Now apply these ratios using skills leftover from my chemistry classes:

192 mg * 1 kg * 1 cup of coffee * 180 lbs
---------------------------------------------------
1 kg * 2.2 lbs * 100 mg * Chris

This reduces to:

157 cups of coffee / Chris

That is just under 10 gallons of coffee. Math is fun!

Horror Movie Drinking Games

If you celebrate Halloween the way I do, you will be looking for ways to combine watching scary movies with getting intoxicated. Here are two effective combinations:

While watching Poltergeist (a lovely family film from the people who brought you E. T. and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) you should drink every time somebody says "Carol Anne".

In the gothic horror classic Dracula, drink every time Bela Lugosi stares broodingly into the camera.

A Salute to Ranch Dressing

Ranch is only mayonnaise seasoned with onion power, but this fatty sauce is more responsible for Americans voluntarily eating raw vegetables than government-sponsored pyramids and motherly guilt combined. Now if we only could stop people dipping fried cheese sticks into it.

In Case of Emergency

I spend a lot of thought preparing for the day I am rich. It could happen when I least expect it. I don't want to be caught unawares.

It's comforting to know that in the event of wealth, I would have already invested time earmarking purchases. I am sure I'll be very busy doing rich guy things, so I'll be relieved to have already done the research on the features of my condo, the qualities of the luxury car and the vintage of electric guitar I'll need.

The Alien Monkey in my Mind

I attended a meeting in a room where someone was foolish enough to leave play-dough lying out where any crazy could use it. I did what anyone else would have done in my position: created an alien monkey. That reminds me, I haven't been to AngryAlien.com lately.

I think this sculpture came out better than my wasabi snowman but I had superior raw materials. Unfortunately from this camera angle you can't appreciate its long blond dreadlocks.

Perverted Chinese Lawyers

If I owned a Chinese restaurant, I'd want to name it Hsu-Yoo II or Peking Tom's, but I worry what kind of customers that would attract.

What is Coming Out of Your Urethra?

Today at work the urinal and surrounding floor was stained orange. I thought maybe somebody just dumped their excess Tang in there but it has happened several days in a row. Nobody can drink that much Tang.

Etiquette tip: If you have a urinary tract infection, please take sharper aim. Nobody wants your diseased fluids splattered around the facilities.

This Isn't Funny

I can't abide walking. It is so pedestrian.

All the Menudo You Can Eat

Every Sunday the local Mexican buffet has menudo. I don't eat menudo so technically they have all-I-can-eat every day. And so does every other restaurant in the world.

My spell checker kept asking me to change the word "menudo" to "menu do". I think that is a restaurant based martial art.

The Worst Holiday

I never seem to be more than a month away from a useless holiday. The weakest Hallmark Holiday might be Sweetest Day, because it's a sequel. It should be renamed "Valentines II". There is a chance I will observe it due to feminine coercion, so I am giving the "Crappiest Holiday Award" to Boss's Day.

If one day, through some sick cosmic practical joke, I become a boss, I will still refuse to celebrate. If anyone dares to decorate my office or get me a gift, they will get an official reprimand and be put on notice. I'll have signs posted that say "You wanna celebrate Boss's Day? Then get back to work."

I suppose I would celebrate Boss's day in my own special way.

Web Memorial

Instead of a headstone, I want a Web page. I am going to have written into my will that a domain and Web host be funded for posterity.

This would not negate the possibility of a plaque or monument in a mausoleum or graveyard. But instead of having my name on it, it'd just have the URL.

Amazing Animal Tricks

This children's book is probably the thing most responsible for me studying Biology. Did you know there are snakes that can glide from tree to tree? How about how a giraffe drinks? It has to awkwardly spread its legs apart and learn forward to reach the water.

I sympathize. It is must be like peeing with morning wood.

Super Fun Toys

As a boy I preferred toys that were assembled: model cars, legos, puzzles, oak credenzas. The problem is after they are complete, what do you do with them? Throw 'em away I guess. Today you can buy most of these items pre-assembled so they can be thrown away right out of the box. It saves time.

Or you could leave them in the box and store them for sale later at increased value. There is little young boys love more than investment opportunities. Ah, to return to those carefree days of youth.

More Marketing Genius

I have a good slogan for Campbell's Select:

Soup: Its not just for hobos anymore.

Beer Detective

There was some beer in the breakroom refrigerator this morning. It was Budweiser. If my beer forensics is up-to-snuff, it was probably a left over from a business function. If it had been Busch Light, it would have meant some interns partied in the cubes over the weekend. If it were Pabst Blue Ribbon, we'd need to check the local assisted-living homes for the perpetrators.

Exploited Teens

I discovered a site where people post their writings and get paid (if their posts are popular.) I signed up for an account just to vote on articles, but I couldn't help writing something. It is a response to a typical Aren't-Teenagers-Difficult-Children rant. I know that some teenagers read this, so please get an account and vote my article up so I can be rich, or, I mean, to show solidarity with your fellow young-adults or something.

I also know that some of the aforementioned teenagers are good writers, so if they posted something I'd return the vote (as long as their submission doesn't suck, of course.)

Instaprefix and Suffixtaculous!

Is your product name lacking pizazz? Try adding a meaningless prefix or suffix for ultralicious extremitude!

Suffixes

• -orama
• -riffic
• -taculous
• -tastic
• -licious
• -itude
• -a-go-go
• -aganza
• -pro

Prefixes

• bucket-o-
• meta-
• e-
• i-
• pseudo-
• mega-
• ultra-
• uber-
• faux-
• techno-
• insta-
• super-
• pro-

Try creating your own advertising slogan from compound words based on random chunks. It's a metataculous technoganza Bucket-O-Rama!

Blasphemy

The heretical art came from The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

How to Make my Blog Funnier

I have been working hard to make my writing funnier, but there is only so much talent and practice can do. I think it is time for you to start helping.

I discovered that everything is funnier if you are in a position where you shouldn't laugh. For maximum laughitude, please read this at a funeral while swallowing a drink that would be painful if it blasted from your nostrils.

Gaze Upon This and Despair

I have been a fan of Despair.com for years so I made a few of my own demotivators at diy.despair.com.

The one below sports a photo graciously stolen from the Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermy.

Wasabi Snowman

Ever wonder what to do with the wasabi leftover after eating sushi? I poked the eyes with chopsticks, and added masago hair, a shrimp-tail nose and shitake arms.

It was not clear if the wait staff was amused.

Masculine Air Freshener

Cooking bacon smells so good, they should make bacon-scented candles and spays. It'd be the perfect scent for the man market.

A dangling car air freshener would be perfect. It could look exactly like a strip of bacon.

Transportation of the Homeless

I took some classes at a hospital a few years back. One day I was getting gas across the street when a guy pops up out of nowhere.

"Hey dude, can I have $5?"

"Sorry, I just pumped the last of my cash into my car."

"Well, can I have a ride then?"

I couldn't think of a reason why not, so he loaded his dirty sleeping bag in my car and we drove off and started chatting.

"I just got out of the hospital."

"Why, what was wrong with you?"

"I have hepatitis. They can't cure it so I just left."

"Where do you need to be dropped off?"

"Up here is fine."

We had driven about two blocks.

The Linguistic Characteristics of Y. Sam

What behaviors are required to earn the appellation "Rootin' and Tootin'"?

I believe one needs to yell (or more accurately, "holler") Southwestern colloquialisms, including, but not limited to, "yee-haw". Also, one should fire revolvers into the air in an alternating fashion.

This much can probably be agreed upon by most connoisseurs of Old West tradition. The deeper mystery lies in determining which one of these activities represents the "root" and which one the "toot". I can convince myself that rooting is shooting and tooting is yelling, but then concoct an equally cogent argument for the antithesis.

But Singing to the Radio is OK

Why do people think they can't be seen through their car windows?

I think a good bumper sticker would be:

In my rear view mirror
I can see you picking your nose

Undead Marketing

Many feel that zombies are the greatest danger mankind has ever faced. I think those people are negative Nellies. When life hands me zombies, I make zombie-related merchandise.

One money-making idea is advertising space. You could not find a cheaper and more patient sandwich board man among the living. By placing your logo on the torso of a shambling corpse, you are guaranteed it will be viewed at eye level and wander to wherever the living congregate. A small up-front investment can mean years of exposure to people whose attention will be focused directly on your message!

Products that might be suited to this target market:

"Under zombie attack? Why not try Lil' Clubber baseball bats!"

"After a long night battling the undead, you deserve a Z-Brew. The only beer specially crafted for the the post-zombie apocalyptic world."

(If you have ideas for advertisements, please add them in the comments.)

In the Slums, Part of the Charm is Wacky Neighbors

I always live in the cheapest apartments I can find. Usually my neighbors are nice people: young families, the elderly, the normal masses of the working poor. My previous 2-bedroom was was different. It really was the slums. I would have been surprised if over half the tenants had jobs (not counting drug dealers.)

Among the cast of characters were "Scary Guy" from across the hall and "Party Girl" who was usually seen being dropped off Saturday morning.

One morning I when I left for work there was a guy standing next to all his stuff in the parking lot. In the doorway next to mine I heard a little boy ask "Is daddy leaving?"

Just before the door shut mom said "You'll never see daddy again."

How touching.

My Super Power

Everyone has a special talent. Mine is the ability, after everyone else has given up, to get one more brush full of toothpaste from the tube.

A Gorilla of any Other Size Would Smell as Sweet

I'd like to ignore the 800-pound gorilla in the room, but he is currently tearing my arms off.

The average male gorilla weighs 400 pounds. Zoo gorillas that let themselves go can pork out to 600. I assume that Joe-everygorilla or the pre-Subway Jared gorilla would be just as hard to ignore as the mythical 800-pound variety.

Know what would be really hard to ignore? A little gorilla running around the boardroom throwing papers and defecating everywhere.

The Adventures of Guy-in-a-Suit! (Part 2)

When we last left our hero, he was delivering much-needed authority like a pin-striped Easter bunny. We meet up with him back in the hospital.

Victim: I am dying of a rare disease. What can the government do for me?

Guy-in-a-Suit!: I can help you, but not without my sidekick.

Pressboy: Oh boy! Do you mean we get to . . .

Everyone: Raise awareness!

Guy-in-a-Suit!: Quick Pressboy, find out what color ribbons haven't been taken. Is olive paisley available? Good. Now we'll need to organize some kind of "-athon".

Thanks to the work of Guy-in-a-Suit! and Pressboy, instead of dying from an obscure disease, our victim died from a very popular disease! Thank you Guy-in-a-Suit! and Pressboy too!

Old Ladies are Weird

One of the fun things about running in public is that you always encounter interesting stuff. Usually it is just waking the homeless or an altercation with an animal. (I have not yet found my first dead body. Once I do, I'll be a real runner.)

This week while I was approaching a couple old ladies, I stepped on a stick. One of them turned with her hand on her heart and said "Oh my gosh, you scared me!"

There were people all over the place. She must have been scared frequently.

"Sorry, just walking." (I was taking a short break, OK?)

Her friend smiled and asked "How far is it to the rkspofmkl?"

"Umm, what?"

"How far is it to the mnijhosls?"

"Uh, where do you want to go?"

The scared old lady looked like she thought I was going to murder her. They began talking back and forth in some other language. I wondered how rude it would be to run away right then. The frightened lady looked to the sky and prayed, "How did I get into this?"

"Be good!" I waved and jogged away. The happy old lady smiled, waved and said "Bye bye!"

What's Your Favorite Benzoate?

Mine's potassium. It has a zip that the less expensive sodium benzoate lacks. So check the ingredients. Life's too short to settle for less.

Returning the Little Drummer Boy for Store Credit

My least favorite Christmas song is "The Little Drummer Boy". Possessed snowmen and mutant reindeer I can stomach, but this one is too ridiculous.

Imagine some brat who didn't buy you squat ruining Christmas morning by banging on a drum. I know what I'd do. I'd grab his sticks and send him to his room until he can learn to behave.

The little drummer boy did this to JESUS. He is so in hell right now.

What's so Great About Bikes?

I don't get the glorification of the bicycle. A short hundred years ago it was some new-fangled contraption that the old timers probably blamed for all the ills of society. Now children are considered abominations if they don't ride them. This does not makes sense to me, as giving a kid a bike is the equivalent of telling them to "Go play in the street."

Sure, I had a bike when I was younger and rode it a lot. It was the only way I could get to the arcade. Now that game consoles are better, I no longer see the need. If I require an expensive device to move me faster, I'd use my car.

I am not arguing that one shouldn't get outside and exercise, but why not walk, or if that is too slow and boring, run? I suppose because you are in danger of being run over by a bicycler.

Dangers of Technology

I have been incorporating a USB thumb drive into my lifestyle. I thought the effects would be positive, but like all technology, it has its dark side. If it is not used wisely, pain and suffering can occur.

For example, you will probably want to attach the USB drive to your key chain. If you then plug it into your computer at work that is under your desk, you may forget about it at the end of the day because you only had a few apples for lunch and are daydreaming about the frozen pizza you are going to pop in the oven as soon as you get home. If your car key happens to have the plastic broken and you have been procrastinating going to Lowe's to get a new one, that key may be in your pocket (separate from your other keys.) In this case you may not realize where your apartment key is until you can't get in and are forced to drive back to work instead of eating that frozen pizza.

So be cautious, as this hypothetical situation could happen to anyone.

The Adventures of Guy-In-A-Suit! (Part 1)

I watched a movie where some woman got shot in a foreign country. After a harrowing time surviving with help from the locals, she is rescued by the U.S. government. It made bleeding in the hovel look preferable. It gave me an idea for a new super-hero, Guy-In-A-Suit! I think a typical story would go like this:

Victim: "I'm bleeding to death. Is there no one that can save me?"
Guy-In-A-Suit!: "Don't worry ma'am. We've taken charge here."
Victim: "Wow! It's Guy-In-A-Suit! and his sidekick, The Press! I'm saved!"

Thanks to Guy-In-A-Suit!'s timely arrival, the woman survived for two more hours. Thank you, Guy-In-A-Suit!

The Gayest Movie

I finally watched Brokeback Mountain and it was not the gayest movie I have ever seen. (That award goes to Velvet Goldmine. It scares me to imagine what the term "velvet goldmine" is a euphemism for.) The unintentionally gayest movie I have seen is Top Gun, or possibly Interview with a Vampire. Though I still question how unintentional those are.

So, Brokeback Mountain was not bad but certainly the worst Ang Lee film I have seen. I blame the source material. If anyone claims that there is more to it than just gay cowboys, they are lying.

Anniversary Gifts

Seeing Nick struggle to choose an anniversary gift reminds me that being divorced is not all bad. To help him out, I created a new list of gifts based on the year of your anniversary.

1. Oil change
   
2. Fancy cheese
   
3. Radial arm saw
4. Vacuum
5. Steak dinner
6. Nothing
7. High-definition television and Xbox 360
8. Child support

That's as far as I got. After 8 years, you are on your own.

Commas, are, Stupid

The worst part of creating anything are critical reviews. I don't mean praise or jeers. I like hearing honest feedback, even if it is as brutal as "That sucked." What I hate is a pretentious "expert" pointing out superfluous and questionable incorrections. In writing, these people usually have an English degree, claim to be a published author and are incapable of producing anything that humans would ever choose to read.

I can deal with it, but I worry about the young writers. How will they know whose feedback is worthy? The litmus test is the comma. If you receive any mention of commas, disregard everything else. Comma usage is the least important aspect of writing, even compared to proper capitalization. In the editing process, comma polishing should happen last, without ever bothering the author, and in a dingy basement.

Bachelor Cooking

Preparing food at home should be fast, easy and use ingredients that can be stored for years. I recently made something that not only has those properties, but is delicious enough to serve on the third date when you work up the guts to lure her to your place.

Some kind of pasta (I like linguine)
A can of artichoke hearts
A jar of pesto sauce
Olive oil
Parmesan cheese (I prefer shredded, not the powdery stuff)

Cook the noodles. While that is going on, add some pesto to the drained artichoke hearts and toss to coat. (The artichokes are pretty bland right from the can. You may want to do this further ahead of time.) Add some olive oil if the sauce is too dry. After the noodles are done, drain them and toss with some pesto sauce, and don't be stingy about it. Mix with the artichoke hearts gently, you don't want artichoke baby food. Throw some cheese top if your date isn't a vegan.

Pothos: The Manliest Houseplant

I have killed many houseplants in my life, and will strike again. There are only two plants that have ever survived: some kind of cactus and an Epipremnum aureum. This is more commonly called pothos (poe-thuss) ivy. It likes medium light, but can handle low or intense light. It likes to be watered, but can go without and not die for ages. It grows like it's trying to reach you. If time were sped up, I swear it would murder people. It is truly a man's plant.

The one I can't kill is on my office desk right now, watching me. Next door a coworker has one that is thriving in nothing but a glass of water. In the office after that, there is a specimen so huge that its owner thumbtacked vines up a wall. Every December we decorate it with flashing lights and Christmas bulbs.

Penultimate Frisbee

I was invited to play Ultimate frisbee with some coworkers. I have played some other type of frisbee. You know, where you simply throw it and then somebody else catches it. I confess, I had always felt that game was lacking a certain je ne sais quoi.

To All the Friends I've Snubbed Before

I am not very sentimental. In other words, I am a guy. If I move or change jobs, I don't keep in touch with any previous friends. I just get new friends that look and act a lot like the old ones. It's convenient, but I admit to feeling a bit guilty about it.

To help alleviate the feeling that I am a crappy friend, I would like to make a public statement:

If you once were my friend (but I have not called you in 12 years) know that I don't think you are a dick. I am just very lazy. Thank you.

A Friendly Reminder from the Management

Several times a year my slum lords find an empty can in the parking lot or catch too many people in the pool. Instead of confronting the offenders, they will print a letter and tape it to all the doors in the complex. It usually reads like this:

Dear Residents,

You disgust me. How can you live with yourselves, wallowing in your own filth? I wish I managed a ramshackle tenement in a third-world country with no human rights so I could deal with you vermin in the manner that you deserve.

Thank you for your attention in this matter,

The Management

I am the Champion

I played miniature golf with coworkers yesterday and beat them all. I owe my victory to a new strategy: Instead of trying to sink the ball on the first stroke, I hit it close to the hole, then took an easy 2. I think this is a lesson that we can apply to our lives, outside of the competitive world of miniature golf, but I am not sure precisely what it is. Maybe:

"Win no matter what the cost."

No, I don't like that one. How about:

"If you win at something and have a blog, gloat online."

Insert THIS in Your Keyboard

The Insert key may not be the most worthless key on the board (That prize goes to Scroll Lock. I have worked with computers for 25 years and still have no idea what that one is for.) but it is awkwardly placed between the Delete and Backspace keys. Every time you try to fix a mistake you risk hitting the inadvertently-typing-over-stuff key.

Maybe we could replace it with one of the superfluous keys that keep appearing at the bottom of the keyboard. If any more junk is added there, the space bar will be demoted to a space key.

But enough whining. I pried off my Insert key with an old bent file drawer key. I challenge you to do the same. Join the Anti-Insert Key revolution!

The Modern Troubadour

The guitar is the closest thing that exists to a chick magnet. If you are not rich or good-looking, being a musician is the next viable option for attracting a mate. Because of the guitar, instead of being a 40-year-old virgin, I have two children and a divorce: Proof of the magic.

Which brings me to the problem. Good musicians are people who enjoy sitting in their room all day playing the same scale and memorizing the lyrics to "One Week". This will get you a girlfriend, but will eventually land you in this situation:

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Sit in my room and play scales."

"You NEVER pay attention to me!"

I think my current girlfriend gets it. She asked for a CD of me playing guitar for Christmas. I'll call her again in December when it's done.

Performing for the Mentally Handicapped

In my first post, I mentioned the time my college band played a dance for the mentally handicapped. That brought back a lot of memories. Or it would have, if I hadn't killed so much brain matter with alcohol. In beer's defense, it was 20 years ago and I still have three distinct recollections:

1. The crowd loved it. Our drummer was a volunteer for local mental heath services and told us they talked about it a lot afterward.
2. We played "Comfortably Numb". I remember that feeling ironic.
3. There was a hot girl there. I would have been all over that if she hadn't been retarded.
   

Oboe: What is the sound of one ass sucking?

Listening to my son's 6th grade band revealed that my new least favorite instrument is the oboe. Is it ethical to allow innocent children to play these things? Those banshee-sticks make the bagpipes sound like an angelic choir.

The French horns were fairly offensive as well. Not in the meaning that I am insulted by them, but in the military sense. If Bush found a large cache of French horns buried in the Iraqi desert, the US invasion would be justified. The oboe wins, however, because in the battle of annoying instruments, if all else is equal, the winner goes to the one of higher pitch.

Does your family have a plan?

The commercials and billboards from Ready.gov have convinced me to prepare for the inevitable attack. I present you with Emergency Preparedness Plan version 1:

1. Seek shelter as soon as possible. Confront the enemy only as a last resort.
2. In the unfortunate event of a confrontation, remember you MUST destroy the brain. Damaging any other part of a zombie has no effect.
3. My weapon of choice is a bokken (Japanese wooden sword). This is useful for defense (keeping the zombies at a distance) or bashing them in the head.

I am stockpiling nonperishable foods. A year's supply of whiskey and beef jerky should be enough.

Children, let me tell you about the 80s

It is in vogue to like retro hair bands right now. Vacuous power ballads are like pictures of you in awkward adolescence. It takes about 20 years to be able to laugh at them.

But it wasn't funny at the time, I assure you. By 1990 true rockers were subsisting only on the stale crusts of AC/DC and Van Halen repeats. The best new music on the airwaves was by half-assed bands like Drivin' and Cryin'. (Remember them? I didn't think so.) Metallica and Jane's Addiction were around, but were snubbed by mainstream radio.

In 1991, my car ran out of gas so I walked to a gas station in the rain. There was this crazy music blaring from the surly cashier's cheap tape player. It tasted like an oasis after wandering in a musical desert. I had to ask him who it was. He looked impatient, like he was sick of being asked.

"Pearl Jam"

It was a great day.

Bloggy McBloggerstein

I am now a "blogger". I blame Nick. He asked me to see how Blogger.com styled their submit buttons and I somehow ended up getting a site. It is an impressive nod to usability when you end up using it by happenstance.

The first entries I made were some of my thoughts about me. Narcissism is the most important ingredient of blogging. (Writing ability is a distant 3rd after technophilia.) That makes me a natural. Next, I linked to some friends that had blogs, because the best way to promote your blog is to promise to read somebody else's blog if they read yours.

I should have started years ago. It is so much fun that I bet it'll be several months until I get distracted by some other fad technology and quit posting.

ETA on Midlife Crisis

My teenage son asked me when I was going to have my midlife crisis. I am guessing he wants me to buy a cooler car.

I had to disappoint him. My midlife crisis will probably never happen. I don't think I have ever been a hard-core adult, so I lack the prerequisite to a second childhood.

The foundation of a quality midlife breakdown is being a martyr: Work yourself to death for a demanding wife and oblivious children. Then when you snap, you can try to cram all the fun you had been missing into a year a debauchery.

Alas, I have paced my debauchery. I better start saving up now for my birthday.

Guitar Hero Lies

One of the many charms of the game Guitar Hero are the pearls of Rock 'n Roll wisdom dispensed during loading screens. They include "Don't give the drummer a microphone. It'll only end in tears." and "They don't really want you to play Freebird. They are just heckling you." As critical to stardom as these are, there is one proverb that I take exception to:

"Your mom doesn't count as as fan."

In keeping with glorious Rock tradition, my mom always hated my bands. I was wary when bandmates' parents showed up to gigs. I learned, staring out at sparse and surly crowds, that all audience members (especially ones that are obligated to like you) are welcome.

The most pretentious and harmful thing a band can do is be picky about their fans. If you find you have developed a strong following among the mentally-handicapped community, run with it.

I am not exaggerating. One of the best gigs I had in college was a dance for a local group home. The people were as easy to please as the normal bar crowd at closing, but much better behaved.