Dad About You

I had no idea that I would appreciate being a dad, nor my parents, as much as I do. Blessed I was to be raised by people who truly did the best they could with what they had to work (me)... I really put them through some sheeeit. If they knew the whole story, wow...

WOW....

I mean that in a Federal sense.

Wow.

So as I move forward in my life with the intent of being the best father I can be to my son, and maybe another kid in the future (homemade or off-shored), I'm learning a lot about the wounds we suffer as we grow. Science tells us all that before about 3 years of age our minds are incapable of hard-coding as much detail to memory as we have now. Do YOU remember all of today? No. Because it was snore-inducing, and that ridiculous excuse for a manager/man-ager/JCPenney shopper should have been kicked in the hamstring until his leg purpled up like his neck sores. And if you remember THAT, you need to get thee to a new job.

There's no real pause in parenting. I'm probably hovering too much - a Helicopter Dad - when I'm around The Boy. I like watching him, playing with him, and discussing what he did today, and what tomorrow's plans hold. (ayayaayayyaaayaaayaaaayaSHISHISHISHAYAAYAAAA! for the record) And anytime he's not in his crib asleep, you better be on your damn toes. I lost sight of him for 7 seconds tonight. Count 'em off....

I found him with lifting wiggling his hand under the toilet seat (With lock in place!) and splashing the water. I had only to hope that it was NOT yellow, and was NOT left to mellow.

There's no rest until he rests. For now. And I'm cool with that. It takes involvement and energy and intent. I can see where parents go nutlog during this time. I can see how people thrive in this pattern. I can see a bottle of Blueberry Vodka waiting for me in Salem, OR in a few weeks when I hit it for a road gig. I can see 5 years from now really missing the time when Graham "was" this age and how easy it was then.

I'm not a benevolent being in all this; I'm a human being trying to do what I think is the best I can with what I have. I didn't take parenting classes for this. I can change diapers and feed him By The Book, but everything else is gut-reaction. When it stinks, get rid of it. Choking is bad. Fire is worse. Spiders are everywhere and are all trying to kidnap the baby. So are Eastern Bloc immigrants, looking for a facial mole antidote.

I don't expect an award or some bullsh*t mug declaring ME as "The World's Greatest Dad." It's incredibly subjective as a competition that shouldn't even be taking place, and scoring is always biased to the older guys who are emotionally detached from work, and multiple kids and distant wives. All the same, there's a different kind of satisfaction in getting my son laughing than there is getting 500 audience members laughing. A bigger one. A better satisfaction unlike anything.

Then again, I haven't made a baby with Salma Hayek.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

What Twitter Is

If you're wondering about what Twitter is, you're likely well-versed in things other than the latest how the internet is using all 9 hands to shovel your free time (i.e. bandwidth) into its gaping pipeline. Frankly, I'm not sure what Twitter is, NOW. I know what it was intended for. But like every piece of technology, from the wheel of cheese to the atomic bomb, idiots get their stinky fingers on it and skew the intended use of it.

There's a "trending" section in Twitter that states what people are talking about. By adding a "#" to the beginning of a word or words, Twitter begins logging which words are "#"ed and sees that "trend" and makes a "list" of who "is" tweeting about the topic. For example, "#GeoffLottIsAnAss" should, but won't, make the top 10 topics.

So the sociological aspect of Twitter is found in that you can see who is using it by looking at the Trending Topics. Twitter is a way for people to feel that other people are hanging on their every word. So yes, it's narcissistic - unlike blogs, which are almost narcissistic but mostly masturbatory. It's more take than give. (thank you)

And by looking at microcosms of society you get to see snapshots of what the "hoi polloi" think, feel, speak of, and want to have sex with.

Here are some recent high-points under the topic "That's Why You Hate Me"

• I'm not the fAther of ur baby #ThatsWhyYouHateMe (he may not understand "hate")
• i took a shit when you were in the shower &#ThatsWhyYouHateMe ever seen a grown man cry <#funniestshitever #epic #smh (this was from a woman)
• I tell you the reality of ur life and#thatswhyyouhateme.. bt come 2 think of it, do u really hate me or are u just angry at the truth..lol (did you really just Laugh Out Loud and need to document it?)
• I ghost hunt to get your Boo snatched#ThatsWhyYouHateMe (I have no clue...)
• 'Cause I can't do nothing right#thatswhyyouhateme (such as construct sentences)
• I see myself as a superior being #ThatsWhyYouHateMe But I'm don't a superior being (thanks for clarifying)

There are times I hop in the top trends to tweet to the idiots who may be reading it, and that shows what I think of myself and the people trending: They're dumb, and I am better than them, but not secure enough to not tell them, so I have to let them know in they own language, whaaaat?

So that's Twitter: A snapshot of short thoughts thrown into the webosphere by people with nothing better to do. That must suck.

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Be Your Own, Anonymous Person

Sure as I am that many articles, blogs, and pr0n-spam links have been made about this, I would like to weigh-in on an issue that affects us all when it comes to the use of the Internet.

Our Constitution (for Americans only, I hope) has a number of Amendments, which is to say, the first go-round didn't quite get it all. One of those Amendments is the First one. Luckily, it's the most important one in a society full of people who our Forefathers thought would be smarter than they are. It guarantees our Freedom to Speak, Print, and Worship. Not sure how those all tie in to each other, but ink was pricey then and if you can't tell somebody to read the Bible, what's the use of stealing one from a Hotel?

So we've got this far now into the Web2.0 thing, wherein WE are the contributors of content. This blog, that goat-fighting video, keyboard cat, CHICKEN TETRAZZIIIINI, and your video that nobody was supposed to see.

Oh... who's a pretty little Thai Schoolgirl NOW?

And in the Cyberscape we can often become anybody we want to, and live anonymously, vicariously, and usually, slovenly. And we contribute what it is we (think?) the world wants to hear from us. Or, more narcisistically, what WE want the world to know about us. These plops fall into 5 categories:

1) Boring
2) Pointless
3) Profane
4) A link to some sort of hole
5) Something enraging the easily-enraged shut-in

So yeah, the 'nets full of nobodies. If I were really poppin', I wouldn't be cheek-liftin' blogs out this monster for nobody. Love for my readers, always always. But hey, if I had my druthers, I'd be inaccessible 40 weeks a year. Until then, send me a drink in MafiaWars. Nobody talks anymore...

To prove it, here's a cam pic of me writing this blog.

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Nice Twits

TWITTER, the mini-blog of the Now, is a new format I hit up to "Tweet." Just random thoughts in moments.
For example:
"Big diff btwn "quitting job to follow Purpose" and "didn't show up for shift, got high and did open mics instead."

"Demanding u finish "GhostBusters 2" is a mandate of solo TV watching, so stop talking to me through the wall"

"You want fully organic, probably best to grow your own"

"50% of the people at Health Food Stores appear severely malnourished"


So if you're out there, check it out, Follow me on Twitter!

And FaceBook!

AAAAAAAND!
New Video This week! Banks, credit crunch, customer service,

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Well CRAP, I Guess I'm a Nice Guy

We're gonna elect a new president tomorrow. Like it or not.
Along with that is a bevy of local votes that will determine everything from the cost of imported milk to legalizing prostitution, or "Consulting."

Many people have asked me recently, "Sir... was that you?"
Sorry. Dairy issues.

I have ideas on the Issues. And here I will pontificate on them...
IN PUBLIC.

First, I must go throw laundry in. I AM ON A SCHEDULE.

I am a good guy. When you're a "good guy," and genuinely so, which I really try to act like I am, people can sense it. You know who can sense it? People who are more open to the auras and energies of other people. And you know who they are?
Crazies.
Not the jarred-poop-collecting crazies (some of it their own).
Not the squalor-induced craziness crazies.
Not the GOD WARRIOR crazies, hello Margeurite Perrin. Who wouldn't want to sit down in a praise service next to this angel in support hosiery?

JEEEEEEZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!

See, when you're a good guy, and told you are by a number of people under various levels of medical supervision, they feel they have a safe place to talk about what's on their mind. And what's on their mind revolves around three things.

1. The "government" (always mentioned with quotation fingers)
   
2. The Shadow Government (always mentioned by pointing to the "SG" tattoo on their palm)
3. Health-related issues, usually ear canals or bowel obstructions caused by antibiotics

The old saying "Nice Guys Finish Last" is because a nice guy stopped for a glass of water while helping his cousin move a cartload of figs, and the water vendor started in about how the sun god Zoalu was taking away his daughter's desire to work through the night as a plow-puller. The Nice Guy's cousin made it on to the market over the next 2 hours, while the vendor never stopped fucking talking about his daughter's ailments, which, these days, would be attributed to syphillis, if not "too much mung." And the Nice Guy, no matter how far away he inched from the conversation, nor tried to return to reading his Entertainment Weekly, if only to get ideas for his next haircut - because he LOVES Daniel Craig's crop - well the Nice Guy just couldn't get away from it. Because the vendor needed to talk.

And to kvetch about the whole thing must fashion a few layers off the niceness, right? My intent is always pure; I enjoy the stories of others, sometimes watching as they go high into the wall and just keep the throttle open while the tires blow and the flames fly high. And right when I think to myself "What am I getting out of this?" I have to remind myself that I can read Mickey Rourke's comeback story anytime. What I get out of it is what you're reading.

So while I have to search for Daniel Craig pics to take to a barber instead of just taking the coffee-shop's EW with me, I am only minorly annoyed at the extra work. I could have found those pics by now.

But it's not every day that somebody wants to bet you their van, parked RIGHT THERE SAME SPOT EVERY DAY, that by this time next week, we'll be under Martial Law. Try for THAT at your Star'sBucks.

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Taking A Break From the WebFilth, Are We?

The internet, or as George W. Bush once called it, "Library TV," (unconfirmed) is nothing if not full of pointless ramblings. Like this blog, now nearing 600 posts. I have totaled, between this one and my MySpace blog, nearly 1,000 posts. I have no idea if anybody actually reads these on a regular basis. But if you do, I cannot thank you enough, nor legally within the laws governing the sovereign state of Cambodia. I love writing, being creative, and expressing my views on lighthearted issues, like heroin use and terrorism, and the hard-hitting topics like what food is truly unacceptable to offer publicly at work.

Goldfish Crackers? Somebody once put the little Pepp'ridge Fa'm happy fish snacks... INTO A COFFEE FILTER-AS-BOWL... onto the counter in the kitchen at work. As though it was a viable snack option.

"Hey," th'idiot thought, "I like these crackers! I am a good person! I will share my crackers I like with work people I like!"

REALLY? Then why leave them anonymously?
Is this a day-care or a place I go to between "fun" and "sleep?" Next time, just blow gas in my cubicle and leave the culinary insults in your desk drawers. Get the trots on your birthday, jackload. Those are a third-tier salad topper AT BEST. Eat a fart.

So, the internet gave each of us with a computer and an internet connection, or access to our friend's resources so that we couldn't be tracked by the Gub'mint! when reading Chow Mein Kampf: Cooking For Facists, the ability to connect with data we never knew existed. Information. News. Sports records. Urban legands. Keith Urban. John Legend. Keith Stubbs. Celine Dion's clothing designer, who may be blind. And pictures that, as a society, we have absolutely no need to see, no use for, nor should be judged for looking at.

But there's now a visibility into human lives which was not likely anticipated by people willing to open their lives up. In other words, people are putting their lives on display, and it's as fascinating as it is frightening. I am both embarrassed and empowered by what I see.

The truth is that we love the gossip, the dirt, the dredged-up hintings and naughty bits of a person's life, words thrown into the webosphere for our consumption...

AS LONG AS THE DREDGINGS AREN'T FROM OUR EMOTIONAL SINKHOLES. As long as we aren't the subject of the dirty whispers, we're usually okay with the whispers existing. Truly, they've always existed. But this netosphere gives people a key element that previous generations lacked: The assumption that people give 2 hard pushes about what they have to whisper about.

I include myself in that realm. I write to entertain myself as much as I think there are people actually WAITING to read this, like they have NOTHING to do all day long except pine for my brain droppings here. I do thank you, Dear Reader, for ever and forever, for staying with me this long. I will write this forever just so that people will continue reading (P.Diddy's fans now just go with the Video Blog), and so that anybody who can't read will stop trying to be my friend.

The web gives us a place to air our grievances, among other things in need of airing. I have been in a number of on-line squabbles, and found them as exhilirating as they are dumb, if not totally pointless. The internet is the ultimate in Passive Activity, if there is such a thing. Doing "something" from a chair, or a Kentucky Gropin' Hammock if that's your thing.

But one's heart races when all of this visual and aural stimuli rushes into our sensors, and perhaps it feels like we're doing somethin'.

The internet can be used to do things, like order items, pay for ordered items, and then report the ordered items as "missing" when she shows up and runs away from you because AGAIN, you must stop ordering brides on-line.

Or STALKING! You can find somebody to be obsessed with for whatever reason, and spiral completely out of control. And you'll swear up and down that they just aren't getting the real YOU, and they need to meet you in order to find out that you are NOT stalking them...

you're just hacking their email and phone records to make sure that nobody is, indeed, stalking them. Cyberstalking is still stalking. Sorry.

Online gaming is another way to use the internet while pretending you've got a life.

Overall, this is a necessary and wonderful tool that has been sullied by perverts, pre-verts, awful bands, unsightly "models", and the government. Please do not think that the internet is an evil machine. It is a reflection of the makeup of humanity.

And all that has been going on within the Webosphere, the degradation, the love-sharing, the snakeoils, the snake handling, the purchase of kidney-extraction forceps, has forever been happening. Recipe trading, cake making, and people sneaking in to love-make to the cake (You Google that on your own!). It's all been happening prior to the internet.

But thankfully, with technology in our lives, all the good people have a place to watch the pervs from a safe distance. But we are NOT stalking them! Really, who has the time?

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Who Watches The Watchers?

Just read an article about how our society and communities, more and more, are becoming "Big Brother-ized." Cameras everywhere, paranoia-induced lawfulness!

Cameras are there to get the rulebreakers, right? The thugs and thieves and jay-walkers.
Why do we need this?

Because for too long, our society has taken it too easy on crime. We watch something happen, unarmed, and then call the po-leece. They show up, sometimes too late, and get their questioning on. Statements be droppin', y'all. Witness with eyes and all 'at.

And because we, as a society, didn't exact a little vigilante justice and drill some purse-snatcher in the legs with a bat or a bullet or a Dodge Hemi Crew-Cab. Purse gets returned, guy gets the corn kicked outta that wasted vessel of a reality-tv-addled carcass, dragged behind a dumpster, peed-upon, then the cops get called.

And for good reason. Lot of psychos out there, gotta make sure they aren't gettin' away with nothin'.

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Commentator Tots

Dearest Reader,

For nearly a year, if not almost a year, I have had no Comments section.

It wasn't because I didn't care what you had to say. I did. I do. I did do. I done.

So, do. Comment, that is. Feel free now to hit the comments and fire one off to me. I had 'em blocked out because of the sp@mming that was going on in my comments section. Now, I work with somebody who is human spam, filling my airwaves with stuff I don't need to know.

Wow, would love to talk about it, but there's a proximity to work and blogging that shan't be breached, unless one blogs anonymously, like a giant nerdload.

So there ya go. What have you to say?

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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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