A Simple Courtesy

There are times in life between the ages of birth and death that being "the best" or "making the most" of something is considered "great," "fantastic," "jackpot," and if you're my family, "just enough to keep yourself in the will."

However, there are times in life where making the most of something or performing like you're trying to win a prize is, quite simply, unnecessary. There's no need to share what you're doing with somebody else. No reason to draw attention to it. And you should do whatever it is you have to in order to be courteous to those in the vicinity.

So hey there, guy in the first stall 10 minutes ago...
Unless you won some sort of horrifying jackpot, there's no need for what was going on there.

Two words, Mr. "Casual Friday is the OTHER Day Of The Week I Wear Running Pants to Work!"...

COURTESY FLUSH.

What year is it? How old are we? There's no reason to do THAT, and it makes me uncomfortable having to shake the stall door three times before having to chin-up to peer over at you and yell "WHY WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!"

You are doing yourself no favors. And YES, I will be posting the Polaroid I snapped of you. Notch that under my "Vigilante Justice For Restrooms" campaign. I don't know if you are of this, but there is far less soundproofing in a men's room than you may think. Ka. Blam.

And this is far less about what you think it's about than it is the simple courtesies we can afford each other in society. We are far more rude to and unaware of our neighbors. Be it a phone conversation or a near explosion... TAKE IT OUTSIDE.


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The Last Time This Comic Stands For That

The growing popularity of self-empowerment and needing attention has caused far too many people to stand in line for a shot at fame. This is true with American Idol, Presidential Elections, and for Last Comic Standing. Remember the old days, where talented people really stood out from the crowd and were immediately snatched up to sleep with assistant director’s assistants for a spot in a commercial for used cars? Aaaah, the early 2000’s.

The last and latest open call audition for a shot at the NBC show “Last Comic Standing,” now entering season 5-ish. The line started, from all reports, around 36 hours ahead of the auditions. I was still at home in the Seattle area when I got the call at 2pm that the line was already nearly 100 deep. I almost cancelled my ticket, but seriously, how many chances will I get in life to have a dream shot of sleeping outside and standing in the Arizona sun before having a dream crushed on TV? None, because those dreams were not going with me. They had other work to handle at home. LCS is a chance for a comedian to quantum-leap in their career. It means TV, great managers and agents, more money, and also a lot more road time and chances to build a career. It is a shot worth taking, just make sure the aim is true.

I got to the Tempe Improv around 9pm, and got in line with Travis Simmons, and we were numbers 94 & 95. We walked up and down the line to find people we knew, and chatted a while. I cannot give enough Thanks and Admiration to the lady who started the list of names and numbers so we could flow freely to and fro in the line. It saved a lot more headaches the following day. And to the comedians, the campers, the hopeful in line who worked together to make sure nobody had their stuff stolen, and nobody lost their place in line. We policed our own, and it worked out greatly.

The end of the line, at 9:30pm, was #171. In 2006 I got in line at 10pm and was 75th in line. Why would the line have grown so much in the past year? Please see the opening line of this entry. There are barely 171 funny people IN THE WORLD, I guarantee you that they were not all congregated on the sidewalk and lawn of a strip mall in Tempe. Funny is, of course, subjective, and it would be subjected to many twists and turns over the next 20 hours. The line would swell to over 200, which was small compared to other places.

So let’s get to the highlights:
1) The San Antonio fall-out helped the line have more comics than expected, and those guys are very dedicated. Check out THIS entry at SheckyMagazine.com for why that was so. The producers of the auditions appeared to have handled things poorly in TX, causing a rumored 50 comedians to head for Tempe.
2) Rumor had it that upwards of 20 spots in the front of the line were claimed by students of the local university. Not sure if that’s true, but if so, it kills 20 spots in line for people who may have had legit shots at having impressive auditions. Not that college kids aren't funny, but, by tradition, people aren't funny when they still have hope.
3) Open calls are not for the faint of heart or weak of ego. Hell, there were people I have seen on MAD TV, MTV, working comics and touring acts and commercial actors IN LINE for this thing. It matters a lot to some people. Those 20 spots matter a little more now.
4) There was one guy in particular in Tempe who kept trying to cut in line, a guy with a chain going from his ear to his nose, wearing blue and red, and everyone kept an eye on him. He was roundly booed and chastised for lying about purchasing a spot from a woman who had moved for a moment.
5) As the day moved on, people were buying spots from comedians near the front of the groups that were being herded through. The biggest buyouts were $400, the lowest I know of was $250 for a spot 4 ahead of mine, which was #87 when all was said and done. Attrition, heat, reality check, people left for whatever reasons.
6) While people complained about how long it was taking to get through the appointments of comedians who got a nod from an agent or booker so they didn’t have to wait in line, I reminded a few people that having an appointment doesn’t mean that person’s a better comedian than anybody else, or that they’ll have a better shot at getting through. The bigger issue for many people, that one could sense from the fact that so many people were saying it, was that a lot of the line were “headliners” and “road comics” and “veterans” and waiting in that line can be a gut check as much as a career check. It was for me.
7) A friend of mine, Andy Peters, had an appointment and did a joke that they said they couldn’t use on TV. I’ve heard the bit, it’s hysterical, and it’s far less offensive than a Gollum impression, how black people differ from white people, or having one premise about how your mother from another country says things funny because she’s, you know, from another country. To me, anyway. Andy is a very good comedian and is on his way up, so I told him not to sweat blowing the biggest opportunity of his comedy career.

The last audition to be seen was probably # 80 in line. Prior to that, there was zero line movement for about 2.5 hours. I did not get to audition. At that point, I don’t even know that I would be ready to go do jokes, just basically go in and talk about the humanity and the weird coolness… cool weirdness… of the phenomenon of fame, lines, and people who need hugs from their parents. I suspect next year people will camp out in line again, and some of them will be there with a plan and a dream. Some will be there with a price tag on their spot, camping out merely to sell it off. The best suggestion I heard was to have the producers call the clubs of cities near or in their audition spots to pick 20 comedians, have them compete for 5 or 10 appointment spots, (so you could get 30 to 50 appointments from a city and it’s neighboring metropolis, plus whomever else got a slot from outside sources), and then let the open call be for people who have no idea that their city even has a comedy club or a scene, or people not up to snuff for one of those spots. It’s a plan that favors the best of the bunch, and I’ll always support that.

So next year, would I do it again? Not without an appointment. Which means the next year requires that I keep working to evolve as a comedian and a person and get my act together, in all senses of the phrase. I actually got to meet and talk with a guy who is an active, working writer for TV and commercials, which is where I want to get to, soon. His insight and attitude and buddy-ship were worth every penny I spent on the trip.

Also, my buddy Ryan Hamilton made it through the first selection round, so he’ll be getting some TV time very soon. Watch him and vote for him every chance you get. He’s a great comedian, a great human being, and has absolutely no chance of helping my career, so you know what I say is sincere. I wish those comedians with established careers and Comedy Central Presents: specials all the best as they move towards getting more MySpace hits.

Back to the funny.

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Technology Speeds It Down

I need a headset for my desk phone at work. Yes, I go to work. Almost every day.

The headset that is "all the rage" right now is, of course, a BlueTooth, wireless earpiece to use for my DESKPHONE at work. To use it, one must plug the base of the phone into a USB port on the PC, install software, download the latest software patches, restart my computer, then launch the application that finds which kind of phone I use (if it's listed), and fill in all of my information so that the dialing and connection manager - and you know how I feel about management - can access it when I launch the application I need in order to dial-in to a conference call about a spreadsheet.

I have to also register my car with the parking management folks via their website. No sweat. I go in and try it, but the model of my car is not listed. So I have to download the patch of the latest data so I can see everything that is supposed to be offered. The model of my car is the ONLY THING not listed. Year, Make, Color, etc. all there. Model. No. No models are listed, in fact. So that's not MY goof of having a nearly-official P.O.S. ride, it's the website, which ought to, perhaps, have all that sludge loaded on its backside.

So I have to download that patch to see the MODEL of my car, throwing me over to another website that has 5 different options of downloads, none of which are clearly labeled as the one that I was suggested to download. So MAYBE I'm downloading the right one. I run it. It hangs my machine for 2 minutes. Then it asks that I RESTART my computer.

So that I can get the MODEL of my car.
So that I can REGISTER my car with parking management.
So that I can park my car AT woRK.
And then come INTO work.
And do some work.
Eventually.

Either they want us to just ride the bus, or to spend so much time here that our cars never move, and we have to call our families to bring us clothing now and then, and we'll just use our computers to look at what's going on the world, passive, flabby, clammy. Tepid.

Technology: It Owns You.

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Never Leave Your Pod Again

Relationships.
Music.
Food.
TV shows.
Movies.
Entertainment.
Work.
Finances.
Drugs.
Conversations.
Re-runs.
Family photos.
S.
E.
X.

Thank you technology. We will never have to go out into the globally warmed global outside again.

I'm 99% positive this is how the gray-skinned, big-eyed, long-fingered, telepathy-using, small-bodied, probe-famous "aliens" evolved. I think they were here a billion years ago and come back to see if we're done yet. Hence the butt-thermometers.

Time to go order pizza with cinnamon brownie salad.
I'm also 90% sure that Domino's is selling us food that falls off the back of trucks.

If I'm not here in a week... I was right.

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The High Heels

I hope I never again hear a women wearing tiny, pointy shoes complain about how their feet are killing them after a long night of dancing and drinking free drinks.

Mostly because I saw THIS picture.
It's the result of "Foot binding," an old practice in China that is making a comeback! It was published this week via YAHOO! Photos via the AFP, and nearly made me lurch-forth the smoothie I made for breakfast.

It was a cruel practice done to ensure women, usually those kept as concubines, would have dainty, feminine feet. How big are a normal woman's feet in China?

Anyway, a little perspective for the ladies in the Manolo's.




She's point at her TOES, bent under her foot after the bones were broken and wrappd to this shape. Note the red shoe there.


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Like You've Never Had A Craving?

There's a certain energy to a day at the Empire when you can tell something big is going on. A beta release of a video game, maybe somebody kissed a girl they didn't pay, BIG stuff. Today is one of those days.

In the cafeteria they are showing the broadcast of the World Cup of Cricket, as many of the people working at the Empire are from parts of the world that understand Cricket. They must be way smarter than us, or just don't over-complicate things. The match is being projected onto a screen slightly larger than the bedroom I grew up in. It's a pretty intense game. I started picking up on it slightly before a riot broke out after one of the bowlers complained about a wicket call, and the overs were starting to dwindle. I digress.

So I'm watching the World Cricket Cup unfold between Bangladesh and another team, and I hear a rumbling behind me. A talk-rumbling. A full-blown "hub-bub," bub. I wonder if perhaps there's a new Halo-3 poster being hung near the free soda closets. Or maybe somebody said "I prefer a Mac." I had to inspect.

I drew closer to see a line, easily 50 dorks deep, each of them twitching and giggling and jovial in the way only Mt. Dew and a lack of sunlight can do to a malnourished body. What is this line? Is this like the pie line in "Revenge Of The Nerds," or as it's referred to at the Empire, "Holy Story Of Best Life Ever Told On Screen And Too Short But Still Awesome With Boobs and the Down There Of A Woman"? Oh no. The draw?

Taco Salad bar.

Your choice. Tostada bowl. You fill it with ground beef (seasoned!), chicken, or vegetarian option. By the time I saw what the rush was on for, the line had swollen like a geek in sweatpants on High School P.E. Push-up test day. Amazing. They were Texting each other on phones, talking into their watches, and using telepathy. Freaky stuff. For Taco Salad bar day.

There's no real social relevance other than it's funny to watch people who act like they've never had diarrhea.

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The Seeds Of Patriotism Cannot Be Dug Up!

I don't smoke marijuana. I don't ingest it. I don't look down on those who do, or do not.

But THIS is ridiculous.

She needs to wise up and understand that the laws of this country are there to protect her from the drug dealers and the hardships of drug addiction. Does she want to be addicted to weed the rest of her life? She'll be way better off without it, much more clear-headed and able to enjoy the last few months of her life, fully cognisant of the pain coursing through every inch of her withering, patriotic body.
==
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Why Good Always Wins Out

This past weekend I, along with a couple hundred other people, crammed cheek to cheek into an over-hot theater to watch "300," a movie about a comic book. The comic book told the story of the Battle of Thermopylae (translation: Fighting The Hot Maple), a battle where 300 (roughly) Spartan men stood to fight an advancing, demolishing, unbeatable Persian army. The Persians were led by their king, Xerxes, who was portrayed in the movie by RuPaul. The basic idea was to make this a dramatic representation of the actual events, for which the home videos are in a box somewhere in somebody's cousin's basement. It was really going to be tough to make it accurate.

Persia, which is now better known as Iran, was once a marauding force under Xerxes. They crushed rebellions, enslaved other cultures, burned and pillaged, you know, the yoozh for the day. It was a LONG time ago, mind you. Like before TV was made, LOOOONG ago. So now, after a $70,000,000 opening weekend, "300" is poised to rake in close $200,000,000 before Memorial Day, the opening day of "Bad Movies For Summer" come out. It's really a pretty great movie to see, though the writing is pretty cartoonish.

ANYway, I saw a headline recently about how Iran is upset with the filmmakers for the negative portrayal of Persian culture in the fake movie about a true story. The quote from the article written in a Chinese newspaper is:

Javad Shamqadri, an art advisor to President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, accused the new movie of being "part of a comprehensive U.S. psychological war aimed at Iranian culture", said the report.

Shamqadri was quoted as saying "following the Islamic Revolution in Iran, Hollywood and cultural authorities in the U.S. initiated studies to figure out how to attack Iranian culture," adding "certainly, the recent movie is a product of such studies."

Wow. This guy is saying that the U.S. movie industry, responsible also for "Wild Hogs" and other pig-sh*t movies had the forethought to PLAN to make this movie to DEGRADE the Iranian culture that was over 2500 years ago, at least in the sense it was protrayed in the movie. And for a minute I thought the Iranians were hot-headed, short-fused, humorless, bearded nutjobs who couldn't tell a joke from a nuclear reactor fueled by enriched uranium, propaganda, and paranoia.

The story of "300" is that King Leonidas of Sparta took 300 troops, illegally and without full consent from his Council, to Thermopylae in order to head-off an attack by the Persian army. The idea was that he would slow them down and kill enough of them to allow Sparta to vote for a full defense in the time he and 299 of his spear-tossing, leather-girded loins-sportin' Spartans were plunging metal between the organs of the Persians. Eventually he would make the Athenians and Spartans retreat, only later to have his Persian forces pile-drived into their own asses. The word spread that the Persians could be defeated, so people started doing that more. It was like their version of Text Messaging.

So anyway, at least one Iranian is all pissed off about the movie. The best policy here is what I like to call the "Go Eat A Steamer" policy, where, if he wants to, the offended party can go eat a "steamer" or "log" or "singular doo-doo formation." I hope he dies of a massive coronary on the can. It was 2,500 years back.

Let it go.

An interesting side-note... China reporting that Iran is upset is like your miserly drunk uncle complaining about all the beer cans in the neighbor's lawn. Propaganda, look that-a-way... or is that what they WANT US TO THINK?

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Picture The Perfect Wedding

Dearest of Readers...
Some of the wedding photos snapped by Brian and Jennifer of Photo Elan have been shimmied into a slide-show. Their work captured the entire spectral spectrum of feelings that day.

The song playing is the song Alicia and I had our First Dance to, "Forever" by Ben Harper. Feel like crying? Look at the smiles and you can hear the laughter. Glasses clinking, people cheering and hugging. Tears of happiness were the developer's fluid of those pictures. I never knew it could be like that.

I am so ridiculously blessed. We cannot thank God, our families, and our friends enough for all of it. What an amazing day it was, when I married Alicia, became a husband, a son-in-law, and in many ways, more of a Man.

I will wax poetic another day. Just go check out those photos.

Love you.

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Dustin' For A Conspiracy

My hometown of Maple Valley was hit with a massive dusting of dust this past weekend. This normally laconic town, nestled between Renton and Enumclaw, woke up Sunday and Monday with a dust covering most everything out-of-doors, including trucks (operational and not), and the pile of shootin' cans.

I saw this on the news, how far the dust had spread, how freaked out some folks were. This is big doin' in the Valley! There were news cameras and news men and news stuff! I knew right away what this was truly about. Dusting a few small towns is nothing new. It's been done for over 500 years in order to spread anything from water to wheat to hallucinogenic mind-control compounds.

I was pretty sure that Maple Valley had finally come up on the list of towns to dust. An experimental vaccine to fight tobacco-caused mucous? Perhaps. A massive coating of Splenda to sweeten the air in general, or the other use for Splenda, killing wildlife and sickly children? Hmmm... It's hard to say.

So some dust "Samples" were taken to a "professional science lab" where a "person" looked at the dust "under a" micr"o"scope. "." Their official release was that there was a lot of Cedar pollen in the air, and this dust was that pollen, but not in the air. Perhaps this is an issue stemming from global warming, where a few warm days and some decent winds spread the seed of the cedars to the far reaches of Ray & Myrna Jackfield's fields, covering the better part of their outdoor washing machines and cow.

Personally, I am keeping an eye on old Maple Valley from now on. I was always wary of the place, even while I lived there. As it has grown, so has the pool for random samples. But this... this isn't "random." This is some X-Files stuff, I'm sure of it. This is not the government. You can trust them. It's the other groups (Nickelback, the library system, whomever bakes for Starbucks) that you have to watch out for. Nothing is going to make me paranoid, mind you. Just keep an eye on Maple Valley. If I go back for my 20th reunion and the water flows upwards, the kids have oversized eyeballs and only one lip, and I only see half-hearted stripmalls and white people, I shall relievedly wipe my brow to see things are normal.

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This Heart Is A Reservoir, pt. 2

The amount of smarts, maturity, intensity, and wine it must take to run at Killorn's pace, I would stand in amazement were it piled high in a room. She is a friend of the highest order. If you let her, she can make you feel as though you've known her forever. If you can hang, your life will be enriched. If you can't, you are really missing out.

One of the first times I ever hung out with Killorn and ended up getting flaptardedly drunk with her, the next day she drove me to my car. Which had been impounded. And like a good friend, Killorn did the right thing. She laughed about it. If she thought I was truly some nozzle, just a twit, she would have said "Sorry dude, grab a cab. CLICK." But no. She laughed about it like I had just been the victim of a prank by the Universe, and not only was I starting the day off hanging like Grover, but I was already $130 in the hole, and wasn't even on my way to work. In my face. Ha. That's one reason I love her. She knew it was a "eh, tow happens" moment, so laugh it off, weirdo.

I have seen the genius in Killorn's writing come to life. I have seen her mind at work and at play. They are each humbling and inspiring, equally. If you give her a reason, and your defenses are down, she will DESTROY you. Then she will apologize, and usually mean it. She is great when under pressure. She is terrible when under-utilized. She will not sit and stare, unless Joel McHale is involved. Her engine runs hot. That's another reason I love her. She wants in the game. She ain't wearing a cup for nothing, even if it is on her face.

If Killorn wanted to, she could be President. Considering the travel, however, it pays for shit, so consider her "out." She will, one day, run the kind of company you wish you worked for. It may just be her, me, my Wife From The Near Future, and a pugnacious pug named Mort, but everyone will want in. Probably for the riches. Probably for the respect in the community. Likely for the philanthropy, not to mention the three-story high-rise offices. She won't say this to anybody, because she is truly humble, but she already has it figured out.

She GETS Tenacious D.

She's the cousin I never got to grow up with. Killorn encourages by giving you reminders of your accomplishments, not by cheering. She's had that moment. Over it. Whatever you know about pop culture, she forgot about it last week. Do not talk to her about Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, or Kevin Federline. She knows already. Lindsay LoLo isn't worth the breath. She is a cheerleader of freaks and goons, wanting to see them blossom into full gooniness. That's why I love her. Between a rocket launch and a train wreck, she'll go with Train Wreck at least 7 times out of 10, but she will ALWAYS hope for survivors.

Never cross me about Killorn. Killorn is Family. If you don't like her, keep it to yourself until you're out of my space. And MySpace. She has been told by other people that I would one day leave her behind as a friend. I have had a number of moments to do that. And I'm sure I have laid a few steamers on her doorstep that would warrant a firebombing. Yet as my wedding day draws nigh (check THAT off my list of "jaunty phrases to use"), I know I picked the right person to stand in the position of my Best Man. She is traditionally unconventional. She is my KillornsMan. She is my dearest friend.

I love you, Killorn, you stress-causing, Wynn promenade-tirading, Visionary of Self Realization, Life-Long Friendship, and Flow Charts. Thank you for introducing me to Alicia. I will forever be grateful, for that, for HAX, for Vegas, for Mexico, for Fremont. And many more. You ass.


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Just Us And The Peace

Completely maxed.
Work is very busy.
Alicia is planning her tail off.
I have a short week of work, making work busier by 2 days.
I have a great gig in Las Vegas awaiting me, making me feel bittersweet about leaving Alicia. Then again, after two nights with pug puppy feet in my neck, frankly I could use a break.

So this is "getting married."
Yeah, right now? Not smelling the magic.
Alicia, however, is kicking major planning ass. Majorly. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be in a crappy apartment in Kenmore right now, wondering when somebody was gonna come hand me a shot at happiness.
Thanks to her, I realize you have to go take it. And if you take it while saying "I'm getting married," somebody will charge you at least $500 for Happiness.

Wedding Industry. They have trade shows. Like boat makers. Like gun makers.
Think about it.

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You Did This To Yourself

Carmelo Anthony, who up until the season started was one Nike's "Golden Boys" of pro basketball, did not make the NBA All-Star Team this season. Some people are calling it a "snub." Much like his "keeping it real" persona lacking any real credibility, it's right-on.

About 2 months ago he was involved in a fight with the New York Knicks. Anthony stands about 6'8'', weighs in around 230lbs. Top physical shape. Strong. Young. Athletic. He threw a punch at a guy... well, "punch" is being generous... He closed-handed-slapped another guy from just within arm's reach, then backpedaled away like the dude had the results of Anthony's drug test. RAN BACKWARDS away from the guy while being held back by his 47 year-old assistant coach with a surgically repaired hip. Had Carmelo been holding a purse, it would have looked like an old Ruth Buzzi sketch. So with the All Star ballots counted, what does Carmelo Anthony,

Anthony's quote, much like most athletes who "just want to move on," and have yet to grow a pair of adult testes and apologize for doing something dumb...
"I hope no one holds that over my head over anything," he said. "Things happen. One incident like that is held over one person's head, life ain't fair.
"I did my punishment. I could've easily kept my name out there by appealing it and doing other stuff about it, but I just did my 15 games suspension and hopefully put that behind us."

You're right, 'Melo. Life ain't fair. You are a famous multimillionaire without a college degree, you've had far more handed to you than you've earned. A lot of people work as hard at their jobs as you do at being a professional jackload who plays basketball really well. You didn't get arrested for assault and battery. And yet you are complaining.
Eat.
Sh*t.

I think we have all learned the real lesson. Next time he goes to throw a punch, try to throw at least like an adult, if not a man. Scratching another man's face is not worth a 15-game suspension. More like 30 for being a giant p*ss.

Here's the video:



Keep it "real."


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Paranoid yet?

The city of Boston was recently a target of an ad campaign for a movie to be released this Summer. The ads were outdoor, live ads of little Space Invader-like aliens from a show called "Aqua Teen Hunger Force," a cartoon I love that is not about water, teens, or hunger. It's a meatball (Meatwad), a milkshake (Master Shake), and a box of fries (Frylock) who reminds me of Samuel L. Jackson. ATHF is releasing a movie in March!

Anyway, the city of Boston shut down completely when people thought the blinking-light, notebook-sized doo-dads. Quote from an AP article:

"It's almost too easy to be a terrorist these days," said Jennifer Mason, 26. "You stick a box on a corner and you can shut down a city."

O'Connor said there's nothing wrong with being vigilant, but said she said it was ridiculous to shut down a city "when anyone under the age of 35 knew this was a joke the second they saw it."

Now, here's where you decide for yourself.
Everything must be questioned and perused and zeroed-in-on, dissected and perceived as a possible threat to our safety, both nationally and locally, due to the threat of terrorism in our nation. And when that threat arises, we can run the other way while our government, local or national, steps in to help us out and save us. (Katrina, AHEM... 'scuse me, must have had a Social Security Payment receipt in my throat)

OR

You can understand that this is exactly what the terrorist WANT YOU TO THINK, that you are safe and that you don't need to pay attention and nobody is a suspect! Then they will pounce! See how it happens? Who can you trust? The government that really accelerated our position in the Middle East for the sake of one man makin' his daddy proud? Or the terrorists who want us dead because of the daddy-proud-makin' guy?

Personally, I trust the meatball.


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Barbaro, We Hardly Knew Ye

Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro was euthanized this week after contracting a disease in other hooves. Hoofs? Horse feet.

He was a true Champion, a spirit wherein he hung in there long after most horses and some people would have been put down faster than a new redheaded fat kid at an inner-city junior high. He really hung on to get as much treatment as possible, teach his doctors about treating the situation, and give people some hope. In the end, he couldn't walk, and would quickly get worse.

What I really feel bad about is that Barbaro was just 200yards from a lifetime of studding out. I hope that his final months of life did bring some relief. Perhaps they had someone go ahead and handle the situation of reaping 1/2 of the Champion's Recipe for Success... They better have.

When they go in 3's, who would be next? Buchwald, Barbaro, and then maybe Castro? Give it a week, but I'm taking El Presidente by two lengths.

GO COLTS!

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The Death Of Barbaro

Today marked the end of the life of Barbaro, a horse that was slated to win the Triple Crown (Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Breeder's Cup) last year. In what I believe was the Breeder's Cup, the horse took a nasty step and fractured, badly, a hind foot.

Yet the horse lived on, worked through rehab and a number of surgeries, seemingly indomitable. Thousands of cards and well-wishes poured in. Barbaro was set to stud later this year. Yet the extent of his injuries and continued worsening of his condition led to his owners deciding to euthanize him today. Sad for any animal lover.

Why is it that, when I read stories like this, I purse my lips in a frown and think "That's sad," while, if I see a video of a kid on a skateboard try and railslide a set of steps and end up in heap at the bottom of it, I can't help but laugh my hindquarters numb?

Just something that occurred to me.

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This Heart Is a Reservoir; Part 1

My Wife From the Future, Alicia, is constantly loving me. In my life I have been, many times, unloveable. She has not just "Been there" for me. She has challenged me to be there for myself. She has pushed me beyond a "comfortable" existence. It has frustrated me, because part of me felt like saying "Oh, so I'm not good enough for you?"
That is not the case.

She understands, fully, that my dream is worth chasing, worth working for, and worth pushing myself for. And sometimes I need that push to get over myself. Nobody's gonna bring it to me, so I have to go convince them that I can bring it.

She loves animals and babies. She understands their innocence, their need for affection beyond mere attention, and values the affection they return. She will be an amazing mother. The kind that would cradle her babe in swaddling wraps 'neat her left arm, while bootknife-gutting anybody who tried to harm the child. And the kid probably would never stir. Through her clenched teeth, "This baby is SLEEPING, do you have any idea how long that took? You (RIP) stupid (SLICE) a-hole (DISEMBOWEL)?"

She has given me the safest place to be myself. And that's what we all need, that is Love. And before that, she encouraged me to find what it was that I needed to do in order to fully Love Me. To become so fully Self-Aware, without being Self-Important, because I can FEEL IT when she loves me, is the greatest way to be loved. Her understanding of the importance of letting people be who they are, as simple as it may sound, is the most complicated thing in the world. She gives everyone a fair chance to be themselves. (doesn't mean she won't cross you off the Christmas card list if you're a turd)

She has exhausted herself some nights, in the planning of our wedding. It is one of the few days of her life where much of the attention and affection will be for her, and for us. There are not many days like that in our lives. And her desire to have a great day on February 24, 2007, the care she has put into the invitations and colors and arrangements and menus and guest list (THE F*CKING TEAR-INDUCING GUEST LIST! THE BLESSED LOVELY GUEST LIST!) shows me that Feb24 is NOT just about her. I truly hope that anybody involved in that day will take the same lesson Alicia has taught me, just by loving me the way she does:

Everyone deserves their time in the spotlight. Allow them that time, and they will be forever thankful.

Attempt to dim that light, and you best watch your eyes. Your turn will come soon enough.

If anybody has ever deserved her perfect wedding, it is my Futuristic Wife, Alicia.

I love you, Alicia. More than I can write. More than I can show. I hope and pray to be the husband you deserve. So much, I love you.

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MySpace Sued For Touching Somebody'sSpace

Technology again proves to be a bad mother. At least in the eyes of some moms and dads. Check it out...

MySpace, for those who have fulfilling social lives, is like a second internet. It's like an ever-growing yearbook, full of people from your high school, home town, and people who slept with people who slept people who are now teachers back in your old home town. It is open to anybody who wants to share their stories, their favorites, or just show off.
You get a "Profile" that you build to suit your personality. Some of them are perfectly suited to the people who built them: All flash, no bang. Bare bones. Dumb. Hyperactive. Busy-bodied. Some even have backgrounds of a waist-up-naked Bea Arthur painting. I have blogs over there, too, many of which are a little more hard-edged than this one. None of them touch the edge on the face of a breezy Bea in her late-30s.

Mostly, MySpace gives anybody who wants one the chance to express themselves. And most of the time, the folks there meet expectations: They have nothing to say. Just a few pictures of themselves getting drunk, pictures they took themselves. Tongue-out, hands extended, friends on the arm. Over and over. Siiiiiiigh. Life was so much simpler before other people's lives became public domain. Then again, it's got kids of all ages, some famous people's profiles with tidbits, and the rest of the hoi polloi.

It's fascinating, it's weird, it's voyeuristic, and it's almost as addictive as coffee ice cream-flavored heroin sleeping patches.

MySpace, like any other piece of technology involving people, has little to no built-in screening process. All one needs is a computer and an internet connection and they are likely to get on it. I use it as another way to handle comedy and events. Lots of bands and others like me do that, also. But like any other people-connecting technosphere, perverts get into the mix and things get unseemly.

One of the best ways I ever saw to stop this was when a comedian, Doug Stanhope, would go into chat rooms and pretend to be an underage boy or girl and bait scumbags into inappropriate situations. Then he'd copy the text and paste it to his website, and spring the trap on the scumbag. If nothing else, it would nearly force infarctions on those bottom-feeders. But we have something worse now...

Kids on MySpace are getting baited into meeting people they communicated with via MySpace, and some of those kids have been beaten, molested, and abducted. The natural reaction of the parents, any parent whose child went through this terrible ordeal, is to... RIIIIIGHT... sue MySpace! MySpace has a lot of money, mind you, and it should really be a better parent. It should make sure everyone plays nice and brushes their teeth. MySpace should be held responsible every time somebody with an account on their has a car accident, DUI, or diarrhea!

I feel really terrible for those kids. Their lives are changed forever, and part of that equation was MySpace. I cannot tell you how terrible it must be for those kids to realize they get more attention from strangers than from their own family. That doesn't excuse what the scumbags who should rot in prison (in between games of "Prison MySpace Invaders") did to the kids. Nothing does. I just really wish that parents would monitor what their kids are doing on the internet. First it was the dangers of being in public. Now it's the dangers of being on the computer. I guess all that's left is the safety of low-income housing, with no malls and no internet connections.




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Act Locally

I understand that this may anger some people.
Fine. You're paying attention, at least.

But this was from a county manager in Colorado, printed a day or two after their recent, pre-Christmas monster of a snow storm. Obvious references to New Orleans and Hurricane Katrina aside, I really attached to the section after "What did we do?"

THAT is how we will get through crises. Neighbors helping neighbors. The world is changing globally, in climates both natural and political. Looking out for each other is sometimes the best we can do, while our government decides the best plan of action on how to look out for us.

By the way, a LONG time ago, FEMA should have been handed over to Ty Pennington and the Extreme Home Makeover crew. They do more in a week than FEMA did in a month in New Orleans, per capita.

What's "capita" mean?

Please, read on.
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WEATHER BULLETIN
Up here, in the Northern Plains, we just recovered from a Historic event---may I even say a "Weather Event" of "Biblical Proportions"---with a historic blizzard of up to 44" inches of snow and winds to 90 MPH that broke trees in half, knocked down utility poles, stranded hundreds of motorists in lethal snow banks, closed ALL roads, isolated scores of communities and cut power to 10's of thousands.
FYI: George Bush did not come.
FEMA did nothing.
No one howled for the government.
No one blamed the government.
No one even uttered an expletive on TV .
Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton did not visit.
Our Mayor did not blame Bush or anyone else.
Our Governor did not blame Bush or anyone else, either.
Nobody demanded $2,000 debit cards.
No one asked for a FEMA Trailer House.
No one looted.
Nobody, I mean Nobody, demanded the government do something.
Nobody expected the government to do anything, either.
No Larry King, No Bill O'Rielly, No Oprah, No Chris Mathews and No Geraldo Rivera.
No Shaun Penn, No Barbara Striesand, No Hollywood types to be found.

What did we do?
Nope, we just melted the snow for water.
Sent out caravans of SUV's to pluck people out of snow engulfed cars.
The truck drivers pulled people out of snow banks and didn't ask for a penny.
Local restaurants made food and the police and fire departments delivered it to the snowbound families.
Families took in the stranded people - total strangers.
We fired up wood stoves, broke out coal oil lanterns or Coleman lanterns.
We put on extra layers of clothes because up here it is "Work or Die".
We did not wait for some affirmative action government to get us out of a mess created by being immobilized by a welfare program that trades votes for 'sittin at home' checks.
Even though a Category "5" blizzard of this scale has never fallen this early, we know it can happen and how to deal with it ourselves.

"In my many travels, I have noticed that once one gets north of about 48 degrees North Latitude, 90% of the world's social problems evaporate."

It does seem that way, at least to me. I hope this gets passed on. Maybe SOME people will get the message. The world does Not owe you a living.


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Seriously, He Said He Was Liberal

How is it that the self-styled "Liberal" in our society is the least-likely to be liberal about speaking their mind? Isn't freely throwing around your opinions and ideas, caring about the general welfare of all people and trying to help what being Liberal is about? Or am I confusing that with people who don't give a crap about which column they are lumped into on the news talkshows?

I say this only because I am finding that Liberal is, for more and more people, merely a label of "hip"-ness, and less the actual pragmatic iteration of balancing Social Welfare with Political Pull. I consider myself neither liberal nor conservative. I consider myself Logical, which is why I am forever banned from politics.

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