Troglodad

@SamsClub The Home of the Bait and Switch?

2012-01-25T19:37:00.001-05:00

As SuperBowl weekend approaches, many of you are no doubt contemplating upgrading to a bigger and better television. If you've shopped at Sam's Club before, you may think it is the place to get the best deal on a television. Ordinarily, you'd be right. But not this week.

On Tuesday, January 24, 2012, Sam's was offering a Westinghouse, 120Hz, 46" LED-LCD for $568.00. Compared to HH Gregg and Sears, who each want over $700 for the same set, that's quite a deal. I was sure sold.

I don't need this TV for any silly football game. I need it to replace a TV that has broken. My 42" LG LCD set. See, I recently had an electrical short in my home. In the course of helping me fix it, my father-in-law decided it'd be a good idea to fan a breaker back and forth, off and on, several times in one second. The next day, my beloved LG developed a problem with its display. Half the screen would go black. A tap on the edge of the case and the picture restored. This continued for days, growing worse to the point that the TV now will suddenly show vertical lines of colors. Meaning I have to get up, tap the edge and hope it comes back on.

I need a new set.

After much online searching, I finally chose the Westinghouse at Sam's. This morning, January 25, 2012, I checked the price one last time. Oh, ho! It was down to $524. Even better! And it was time for the family's ever-other-week trip for supplies to Sam's anyway.

Unfortunately, when we got there, the Westinghouse was nowhere to be seen. I checked my smart phone and discovered the set is now an online-only order. I checked Walmart.com. They have the set for $499.99. Online only. Target? $499.99, online only- but with free shipping.

What the hell?

Why pull a set that was confirmed in-stock yesterday, and tell customers they have to order it? What's the point of marking something down but not offering it for sale?

I asked a sales person. If I ordered online, I couldn't pick the set up- they'd ship it to my home. Next week. I was not happy with this answer. She suggested I go to the customer service desk. That's fine, except there always seems to be a long line there.

Here's the deal. Sam's lures people in with the promise of a set at a great price. When you get there, it's gone. All the other 46" LED-LCD TVs are $600 or more. That is a classic bait-and-switch.

Why should I give Sam's my money? I mean, if I have to wait for the set I want, why not buy it from Target? I'm not buying a set to watch football on- I'm replacing a TV my kids and I watch daily. I need a set now.

This whole thing has me not wanting to shop at Sam's ever again. Target is right down the road, and we shop there every-other-week as well. Why not give Target all our money? The only reason we go to Sam's is to buy in bulk and try and save money.

Sam's is using trickery to get as much of your money as possible. They proclaim great deals, and normally they have some. But because they know a lot of folks are all hyped up about sports, they've decided to go greedy and try and fleece the masses. I'd expect that kind of behavior from Walmart. But I thought their cousin company was better.

#ParentTip Teaching Your Kids NOT to Curse

2012-01-11T09:25:00.001-05:00

There comes a time in every parent's life when they hear their child utter a profanity for the first time. For me, it was when my oldest was almost 3 and she blurted out "F*CK!"

Horrifying.

In all fairness, it was my fault. Like a veritable indoor Cody Lundin, I like to go barefoot at home. This is often dangerous when small children lay their toys about. Especially girls with their chintzy vending-machine jewlery. In this case, a metal ring undoubtably made of 50% lead, imported from the finest of Indian jewlers. When I placed my foot on it, then pressed my (then) 265 pounds down on it, it very nearly sliced through my callouses. I immediately exlaimed the F-word, and struck the wall that happened to be nearby. My daughter thought it was hilarious and burst out laughing. For several days thereafter, she would run around and declare "F*CK!" then hit the wall and break out laughing.

Not long after, we adopted the "movie talk" policy: you may only use movietalk if you are in a movie, or when you reach 18. It has worked for years.

Alas, as the children have grown older and become more exposed to life, they are beginning to hear more and more colorful language. Especially from the internet.

Just a few nights ago me and the kids watched some Youtube gamer videos- I'm fascinated by the ways so many people find to glitch and cheat in games. We stumbled across very polissibly the funniest gamer on the internet: ROBBAZ- King of Sweden. Amongst the colorful language we heard from Robbaz was him calling the other team in a commentary of a BF3 match "Pussies" (or as he says it, poo-sies; he has a funny swedish accent). Yoinks!

The next night, me and the girls waited in the minivan while the wife grocery shopped (the van having a DVD player and comfortable leather seats- making it far more comfortable than pushing a shopping cart). During this waiting time, my eldest, Sammie, decided to quote Robbaz, and uttered the word "Pussies".

Argh.

I told her not to say that word... then had to explain why she can't. Crap.

I hastily explained that pussies are pussycats, and went into one of my mind-numbingly boring dissertations on the origin of the phrase: how in 1950s people called someone very nice and quiet a pussycat, etc. etc. I then went on to explain that pussycats are the weakest of animals- that even a small child could kill one, and so a "pussy" was someone overly weak. I told her that there was another use of the word that is cursing, and that she didn't need to know it, but just don't use the word and but that Robbaz meant it as a "sissy"-type remark on his gaming opponents.

Ha! Clever, on-the-fly lying points for me...

Hours later, as I reflected on this, I thought, "Oh, my God, what if my daughter says that word at school? In front of her mother?

After a talk with the wife, I decided it was time for a conversation about cursing with my 12 year old.

I revealed the origins of the word again... from harmless 1950s & 60s term for a quiet, nice, etc person, to the shortened euphemism for a female body part in the 1970s and 1980s, to it's over use in the 1990s, leading to it cavalierly being thrown about now as a term for a weak person. I equated it to "pantywaist" a term not used much anymore. Then I had to explain that. I stated that I prefer she use "wussy" if she had too, but admitted I don't know the origins of that one.

We then went on to cover other profanities, "balls", "Bollux", "fag", etc. etc. I liked to throw the British terms in to demonstrate how something harmless-sounding here might be offensive in other countries and vice-versa. For example, "Tits", another of Robbaz's favorites. I explained teats, boobs, knockers, hooters, etc. I explained that "tit" doesn't have the same offensiveness overseas as here. I should have explained "tit-mouse" but I completely blanked on that one.

In the end I answered her questions about other words she's heard at school ("Chode" for example). I explained why boys like to talk about "hot dogs" and "weiners" and why they think it's funny. And I got an agreement that she not repeat any word she doesn't know the meaning of until checking it with me.

Thank goodness the wife had already given a Birds and Bees 101 talk. it would have been f*cking awkward to have that conversation with a 12 year old.

So to all you Youtubers out there... please watch it with the sex talk. Children are watching.

Don't Order From WBSHOP.com

2011-12-15T10:52:00.001-05:00

Anyone out there in the internet land thinking of ordering from the WB Shop... think twice.

I ordered a set of DVDs Nov. 14th. Still hasn't been processed.

I have emailed twice asking wazzup. Finally got a response:

nlc-shadow@digilink.net has been notified via email that their
mailbox is full. If your message is urgent, you should
contact them on the telephone. Thank you.

I don't know who nlc-shadow is, but he needs to read his damned emails.

Is your Furnace Working?

2011-12-01T09:21:00.001-05:00

It's nearly winter here in the midwest, and that's the time of year that many people find out that their furnace isn't working.

Fear not, just because the heat won't come on, doesn't mean you have to panic and call a repairman.

Here's a quick troubleshooting checklist anyone should be able to do to get things working:

1. Check the batteries on your thermostat. Replace them even. Bad batteries can cause the whole system to go off. Or maybe someone (your kid) played with the thermostat and turned it off, or broke it. Thermostats are under a hundred dollars, sometimes under $50 at your local home improvement store. Changing a thermostat is more complicated than changing a light bulb, but less complicated than changing a bad breaker.

2. Check the air returns to make sure nothing is blocking air flow TO the furnace. Gas furnaces have a safety feature where they kick off if they can't pull in enough air. This is to prevent catching themselves on fire

3. Check the vents- to make sure they aren't blocked, preventing proper air flow (see #2)

4. Check your breakers. Maybe one tripped, shutting off power to a part of the furnace. Like the main or secondary blowers.

5. Check the filters- a clogged filter can prevent proper air flow. (See #2)

6. Look for an error code light. For example on my Trane, there is a curcuit board with an LED. Through a window in the front access panel, you can see the light blink. Count the blinks. Take off the panel off (when the furnace isn't running)and there should be a chart that tells you what the blinks mean. It might be a return heat sensor (upper limit) that's gone bad (ours has three times in 12 years). If it goes out, the furnace thinks it's too hot and shuts off. (See #2)

7. Check to make sure the panels are on right- they have to have a good seal to prevent bringing in outside air. If a panel has been knocked loose, the system may shut off- similar to what happens when you open the door to your dryer.

8. Get your make and model number and google, google google. You might find it's some simple other problem.

Thanksgiving contest from Food Network?

2011-11-18T11:31:00.000-05:00

It's bad enough that companies like Food network claim to give out fabulous prizes, that you never actually see awarded, but this latest email from FN really takes the effin' cake:

DEEP FRIED THANKSGIVING SWEEPSTAKES

Fry up your turkey day! Enter Food Network's Thanksgiving sweepstakes daily for a chance to win your very own indoror turkey fryer and $4,500.

When you visit the contest page, you see this:

Enter DAILY for a chance to win an indoor turkey fryer and $4,500! You may enter once a day through November 21st at 5PM ET.

But when you read the rules, you find that...

The Grand Prize Winner will be selected in a random drawing from among all eligible entries on approximately November 28, 2011, by an independent judging organization, and will be contacted by phone within approximately two (2) days of the drawing.

Cmon, Foodnetwork. You can do better than this. WTF?! How about giving away a fryer (which I don't believe they will do) BEFORE Thanksgiving.

They're probably a bunch of Candians and don't even know when Thanksgiving is.

2011-09-29T09:20:00.002-04:00

A VAN-tastic Weekend

What a weekend this past one was. Chock full of the perils of parenting and modern day life.

It began on Friday with a quick trip to the local Target to get a birthday card for our friends' little boy. He had a party the next day, and when we got his present earlier in the week, the wife forgot to pick out a card.

I didn't know it at the time, but that turned out to be a $250.00 card.

Saturday, we went to the party, leaving the hous elate as folks with kids so often do. We cruised up the interstate to our friends' house, arriving in their town on a quarter-tank of gas. Whoops. No problem, we pulled into the local Circle K for a fill up. Except the pumps wouldn't come on.

The thing I love most about using a debit card is not having to go into a gas station and stand in line like a schmuck. To get gas. Instead, I swipe at the pump, select my fuel, pump and go. It's awesome. Unless the people inside don't activate the pump. And instead turn it off. And you have to swipe your card three more times. Then you move to another pump, and it too takes your card, tells you to pump, but the idiots inside won't authorize the pump to start. That's annoying. And a good way to add 20 more minutes onto your lateness. Thankfully, there was a working gas station across the street.

The party was pretty standard fair for an 8 year old. Kids running around playing, no structured activities, while the parents sit around and talk. In this case the parents being my wife, her two female co-workers and one other husband. Myself and the other husband didn't say much.

The party over, we took our kids and headed home, stopping at a McDonalds for some cool drinks. In the case of my over-heated 6 year old, a chocoloate milk shake. Not a good idea.

Once home, me and the kids enjoyed a little TV then crashed on air matresses and sleeping bags on the basement movie room's floor about 11:00 PM. At 2:00 AM or so, my littlest sits up and does an admirable Linda Blair/Exorcist impersonation- vomiting all over her blankets, sheet and mattress. In my dadcave.

A half hour later, after disposing of he chocolate and hot dog chunks (and the sheet they were on), we were all cleaned up and the weekend basement camping resumed. Cause I needed my sleep since I'd be moving furniture on Sunday.

3:00AM or so, my littlest awoke again.. with dry heaves. Been there, done that. Just not from drinking chocolate milkshakes.

The next day, the furniture move commenced. It was time to get rid of the pee couch.

I never knew girls bedwet until my six year old started doing it on my recliner couch in the basement dadcave. Despite scotch guarding and a bottle of dog urine-removing enzymatic cleaner, my couch got ruined in the first few months of the year. I tried to mask the smell with Febreeze, and a couch cover, but that human urine smell just doesn't seem to go away. On top of that, the 12 year old couch finally gave out on one side, it's recliner mechanism buckling under my Shrek-sized mass. It was time for a new couch.

As luck would have it, a friend is getting married. He and his new wife have to reduce their two households to one. Which meant yardsale. And a gently-used couch and recliner. For me.

grabbing a buddy of mine and folding down the stow and go seats in the minivan, I began the move.

It was as I was opening the doors to the van at my engaged friend's home that I noticed the damage to my van. Parking lot hit and run. Maroon paint, from a maroon's car, down the passenger side of my van. Including a nice 6-inch groove in the body above the rear wheel well. How my wife and oldest daughter missed this getting in and out of the van is beyond me. But it was very clear: we got hit at Target. Friday.

After a bout of cursing, I got the couch in my van and headed home. Already pissed off, and not really wanting to carry the pee couch up my basement stairs, I broke out some wrenches and a hand saw and turned pee couch into three piece sectional to relieve some anger. it was also much easier to carry.

Then it was time to bring the new couch down.

Unfortunately, the new couch's narrowest measurement is 31". While my exterior door is 32" wide, the basement door is only 29.5". No couch in my basement. Nope. Now I'm stuck with a couch on my carport, waiting for someone to pick it up. I have a three piece pee couch in my front yard that hopefully the garbage men will take, and two recliners in my movie room... instead of a couch and two recliners.

But best of all... since no one identified the person who hit my van, I have to pay $250.00 in a deductible to get it fixed.

Vantastic.

Many morals to this story:

Buy birthday cards and presents at the same time.

Don't park next to big trucks or SUVs at Target.

Don't rely on passengers to check their side of the car for damage when leaving a parking lot.

Don't get gas from Circle K.

Don't give an Overheated child a milkshake to drink.

Tell your Kids they need to chew their food more thoroughly so their puke is not so chunky.

Get the new furnture inside BEFORE chopping up or moving the old furniture.

Measure new furniture, and your doorways before making any purchase. Even from a yard sale.

2011-09-23T10:41:00.003-04:00

WHERE'D YOU GET YOUR LAW DEGREE?

I am not a lawyer. I work with lawyers. I know many lawyers. My best friend is a lawyer. Lawyers irritate the living crap out of me.

Many lawyers see themselves as better than others. They place a great deal of value on that big certificate framed and hung on their wall. That represents thousands of dollars of student loans and 5 to 7 long years of study in school.

The amount of importance a lawyer attaches to their law degree is very distrubingly revealed by the statement so many of them make during an argument: "Where'd You Get YOUR Law Degree?!"

This happens, most often, when an attorney enters into a conversation with a non-attorney, and there is a disagreement. An impasse is reached and the lay person has pointed out something or questioned something and the attorney just can't articulate a response about why their opinion should be taken as the gospel. Out comes the arrogant declaration "And Where'd You Get YOUR Law Degree?!"

It's not really a rhetorical question. Lawyers only use this line when they damn well know their verbal opponent doesn't have a law degree. And it's a signal to that non-lawyer that the conversation should be ended.

Every time I hear the law-degree query, I get pretty angry. A variety of responses swirl in my head, but I know that it is pointless to discuss anything any further with someone so conceited.

I mean, I could point out that lawmakers aren't required to have law-degrees. Or any degrees. Or even high school diplomas.

I could point out that police officers, who enforce the law, aren't required to have law degrees.

I could point out that some Judges, on the town or city level, in some States, don't have to have law degrees.

I could point out that citizens, without law degrees, are expected to follow the law.

I could point out that that the first "lawyers" had to get a degree from folks who didn't have one themselves.

Or, I could point out that there has only been one Jesus Christ, and that no matter how fancy that big diploma is, lawyers are people, and still make mistakes, and can be wrong.

Our legal system is based on the fact that people can be wrong. Every day, lawyers argue in Court, trying to convince a Judge they are right, and their opponent is wrong. If they both were such perfect, infallible geniuses, then how could one of them be wrong? Wouldn't they both reach the same conclusion and the debate would be over before it began?

I know that lawyers aren't the only ones who like to throw around their diploma. It's a standard defense for the mentally weak and lazy to give up trying to debate or explain themselves and fall back on their imagined superiority.

"And how many children do you have?"

"Where'd you go to medical school?"

"You were in the military for how long"

Those are just examples of how every day, in all walks of life, people just refuse to admit they're wrong. Lawyers didn't invent this, they just do it with more vigor and arrogance than anyone.

Yes, a degree is a worthy accomplishment. But sitting in a classroom, reading and listening and testing cannot compete with the same, or more, years of experience from someone who was actually exerting themselves and doing a task, rather than studying it. Experience is the greatest teacher.

And everybody can be wrong. Perfection can't be taught or learned.

Get over yourselves.

Fall is For Family Fun

2011-09-23T09:24:00.001-04:00

Finally, the first day of Fall is here.

And with it comes the steady stream of family events.

Fall is so much better for families. There's no blistering heat nor freezing cold to deal with.

Your kids can't make you go swimming- it's too cold.

Food is abundant and so are food-centered, fall harvest-type events. Special foods become available in the Fall. Our favorite is Pumpkin-flavored ice cream. Grilling becomes a whole lot more enjoyable in the Fall. No more sitting by the hot grill, in blistering weather sweating while you wait for the meat to sizzle. Slip on a light jacket, enjoy the cool and savor the outdoor cooking time.

One of our particular favorite fall family events is the annual trip to the pumpkin patch. There we let the kids slop around in dirty fields, picking their pumpkins. Cost? Fairly cheap. No knick knacks to buy. No admission price. Just pay for the pumpkins. (And hopefully remember to bring bags to carry them in).

Even better, Fall trips are short ones. No extended road trips when the kids are back in school. Just short jaunts within your immediate driving area. And road trips aren't just shorter in Fall... the roads are less packed. With school back in session folks tend not to stray so far from home. Which means the amount of lost tourists passing through or visiting your town should hopefully drop off.

Fall has two family favorite holidays. Halloween and Thanksgiving. Halloween is great. Maybe a tad expensive with costumes and candy. But think of all the candy parents get to share- either in the form of leftovers you didn't hand out, or sharing in your own kids' gatherings. Thanksgiving? Who doesn't like the annual gorge-fest where we stuff our bird, then ourselves?

There's more time for families in Fall. The grass slows down it's growing, and yard work disappears. That means less time in the yard, and more time with the family... or TV.

New shows debut in the Fall. Not very many are famly-appropriate but there are always a few. Like this Sunday's "Terra Nova", about a family that journies back in time 83 million years. I plan to watch it with my kids and eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets while it's on.

Fall is great.

"It could be worse" are not words of sympathy

2011-09-16T09:42:00.001-04:00

How many times have you heard the words "It could be worse"? How many times have you used them yourself? Worse still, how many times have you added an example of how things could be worse?

I'd like to propose that is just downright rude.

Take for example the current economic problems in our country. How many people out there are suffering from these tough times, and can do absolutely nothing about it? Except maybe complain. So they do complain- they lament that gasoline cost them so much, or that they can't take their kids on vacation, or any of a number of other monetary problems.

Should you really open your mouth and spew out "At least you've still got a job- things could be worse."

No. No, you should not.

Think about that last time your kid was crying in the store, demanding a toy and you told them no. For me, the answer I say no is usually because it's not in our budget and that our house is bursting with toys. We can't afford to buy the kids a toy every time we go to the store and they don't really have anywhere to put any more toys. But kids don't understand that- they don't see the difference between you buying stuff for you or the house, and not a toy for them. It's one of those things you have to teach your kids that really tries your patience.

So it goes like this:

Kid: "I want a toy!"

Parent: "No."

Kid: "I WANT A TOY!"

Parent: "No."

Kid: "Why not?!"

Parent: "We can't afford it." or "You don't need any more toys."

Kid: "But I need a toy!" or "I don't like my toys!"

Can you imagine if at this point you told your child "Be glad you have what toys you do have. There are kids in Africa with no toys. Or food. It could be worse- you could be like them."

A teenager might understand that logic. A twelve year old might. A five year old definitely won't. But whether they understand it is not the point. It's not what they want to hear.

"It could be worse" doesn't exactly ring sympathetic in any situation. I know the old addage "look for the silver lining" can be helpful, but you don't have to say it that way.

Think about it- why does anyone complain? To get comfort. Maybe in the form of that Barbie on sale, maybe from compassionate understanding from the person they are speaking to.

When my kids come to me with some complaint, or they are sad, I don't tell them "it could be worse". Or "suck it up". I listen to them, and maybe give them a hug, or a bowl of ice cream or something else to cheer them up.

Telling someone "it could be worse" is not comforting. Telling them "well, at least you've got your health" might be comforting, but probably not. Be like a bartender, or a therapist and just listen. That's all anyone really wants- someone to listen to their belly aching. It's even acceptable to chime in with your own, similar woes. Just make sure to acknowledge the other person's plight. Hugs or ice cream are optional.

Sometimes the Grass Doesn't Want to be Cut

2011-09-11T18:45:00.003-04:00

SOMETIMES THE GRASS DOESN'T WANT TO BE CUT

Cutting the grass. A horrible chore any dad would rather skip. But inevtiably, it has to be done- at least until the kids are old enough to do it. So there I was, ready to finally mow the front yard after putting it off for some time due to the record high temps, rain and a flu, cold and sinus infection all within a week of each other.

Knowing my riding mower was out of gas, I went out and got some.

I took the gas out to the mower itself. Uh-oh. Flat tire. Dammit. It seems like every time I use the mower, one tire is low. No problem. Can of fix-a-flat to the rescue.

I turned around to go open the gate from backyard to front... and there was a small tree in the way. A fallen tree. I didn't even know it had falled. But it was there, blocking the way. Not feeling like messing with the chainsaw, I got my bow saw and double-headed axe and chopped away enough to clear a path from shed to gate.

Rolled the mower out of the shed. Ah... a second tire is low, on it's way to being flat. Ah, well, once started, I could drive the mower around to the front of the house and break out my compressor.

If the mower would start. Nothing when I turned the key. If the grass wasn't so long, I'd have given up.

Turns out, it was just dirty contacts on the mower's battery cables. Once cleaned, they let the mower turn over. It sounded awful.

Check of the oil revealed why- very low. Luckily, I keep plenty of oil on hand for the cars- enough for each car to get one change at any time. So I borrowed some from one of our cars.

Finally, I got the mower going, and drove it around front. Got the compressor out from the carport and aired the tires up. I finally got started on the mowing.

I made one pass and the blades stopped turning. Turned out the belt had jumped off one of the pulleys. No problem, I was able to climb down and reconnect. Mowing resumed.

My front yard is divided into four sections: the main yard, then the part between sidewalk and street, barely 4 feet wide running across the front of the property, then a small sliver of yard to the right of the driveway, next to the neighbor, and finally a strip of grass up by the house, again separated by a sidewalk from the rest of the yard.

Main yard. Done. Front of house, done. Front strip by road. Done. Now it was time to move the wife's car that is parked in the grass beside the driveway- where a parking area should be paved, but which I have been putting off doing for years. Gotta move the car to mow it... and the wife's battery is dead. Nice. No problem, I'm pissed at this point, it's near dinner time. I'll mow around her car.

So I do. Or at least I start to. I carefully jockey the mower into position, disengaging the blades as I do so, so that I don't cut the neighbor's grass. Not because I would mind doing it, but because my neighbors are anal about how their yards look. Where as I'd happily replace my grass with sand, moss or even concrete.

Anyways, as I'm positioning my deck into just the right spot, I pull the lever to re-engage the blades. Nothing happens. I look down and there's a belt, broken and hanging out.

And that is quitting time.

Mower out of gas? Just a quick trip to the gas station.

Tree down? Cut it up.

Flat tire? Fill it up, or use the can of fix-a-flat every car shoudl have in it anyways.

Engine won't turn over? Clean the contacts.

No oil? Raid the supplies every garage should have.

Belt breaks? Go to the store and buy a new one. Unless you've had all these problems in one day, in which case it is time to yield to the couch gods and give up for the day.

Skechers Twinkle Toes: Not in the House!

2011-08-25T14:53:00.001-04:00

Skechers makes a brand new shoe.
"Twinkle Toes" for boys and girls too.
They have little lights in the sides and on the toe,
They flash and sparkle, wherever kids go.

These lights are too sparkly, I do think.
They flash and sparkle and furiously blink.
They are too bright to wear to a movie.
Your teacher won't think they're very groovy.

I do not like Twinkle Toes, no I do not.
I especially hate that they cost a lot.
I hate them from their soles to their trippy seams.
I hate their retina-burning, laser beams.

2011-08-19T09:11:00.006-04:00

TROGLO MOVIE RE-VIEW:

"SUPER" (2010)

At the recommendation of a friend, I watched "SUPER", starring Kevin Bacon and Rainn Wilson.

It is such a terrible movie, I am compelled to offer this warning-review to any dad out there that may not have seen it but is considering doing so. "Super" is one of the most child-inappropriate movies I've ever seen. Easily as inappropriate as "Drive Angry" with Nicholas Cage- both of which feature simulated sex. But while "Drive Angry" keeps it's sex in the consenting-adults, fornicating department, "Super" delves into depictions of Rape, and maybe even a little pedophilia.

By this point in the review, you are undoubtably thinking I'm some kind of religious zealot. Not at all. While I am a Christian, I don't shove my beliefs in your face. I respect the freedom of choice God gave you to choose whatever belief system you want. But I found this film to be particularly blasphemous.

I'd also like to point out that I love movies. When asked what my hobby is, I always list "watching movies" first. And I regularly watch crappy movies- particularly the saturday night schlock on the Syfy Channel. I love that stuff. However, had I not spent money on "Super" I'd have stopped watching it very early on. And I've only ever walked out on one movie: "Johnny Be Good" (1988). But at least I laughed in that one.

Before I proceed to rip this movie apart, and impart on you, why you, as a dad, should never waste your hard-earned dough or that nearly two hours of your life on it, I'd like to acknowledge the good things about "Super".

It is under two hours in length.

It has incredible acting from Rainn Wilson and Kevin Bacon. I knew Kevin Bacon was good, but I never knew the weird guy from "The Office" could actually act.

The movie is perfectly made. Fantastic Direction from James Gunn. Despite it's incredible offensiveness, I'd definitely watch a movie of his again, simply because he directed it. It looked good, was edited tight, and was masterfully done. Things I normally couldn't care about. Too bad the subject matter was such crap.

The special effects were top notch. I normally bitch about bad special effects right off the bat- sometimes as I'm leaving a theater even. But "Super" was superb in the effects department.

Liv Tyler is in it. Even made up to look like her crack whore character, Liv is still a beautiful woman.

Michael Rooker and Kevin Bacon are in it. Being the B Movie fan I am, that alone is enough to get me to watch it.

The opening credits are a cartoon... that is better than the whole movie.

It more accurately protrays firearms. I always hate in movies how firearms are often protrayed inaccurately merely because the writer is either an idiot, or too lazy to work around real world physics. In this film, firearms do damage that isn't 100% real-world, but a hell of a lot closer than you'd expect. I also liked that some of the characters were portrayed as if they knew how to shoot, with Weaver stances, aiming, and what not.

Okay, that's about it. You might notice I didn't mention it's funny. Because it isn't. I didn't laugh out loud one time. Not because it's offensive. "Hot Tub Time Machine" is pretty damned offensive, but I laughed so hard I was crying during that movie. "Super" just isn't funny.

Let me give you a quick synopsis of "Super".

Rainn Wilson's Frank is a cook in a local diner. He has married Live Tyler's reformed crack whore waitress. He chalks this up as one of the two greatest moments of his life- the other being the time he pointed where a fleeing robber had gone to a police officer. Frank is a weird dude with a history of being picked on, as graphically illustrated in flashbacks that include children urinating on him and his prom date having sex with another guy. One day, Frank's wife leaves him- going to shack up with Jacques (Kevin Bacon) the owner of a local strip club and an drig dealer. Frank tries to get Sarah (Liv Tyler) back, and gets the crap beat out him by Jacques' henchmen (which include Michael Rooker). Frank, after watching a parody of the Bibleman TV show, has a vision of God visiting him, touching his brain (after cutting open his head with tentacles). Frank takes this as a sign he should become a superhero. He sews together a shitty-looking costume and embarks on a vigilante spree- beating up drug dealers, child molesters, and some guy that tries to cut in line at the movies. Frank eventually reveals his secret to the 22 year old (but looks like she's 14) girl at the local comic book shop (Ellen Page). She creates a costume and becomes his side kick. Together, the Crimson Bolt and Boltie go out to fight more crime- beating up a guy who may have keyed Boltie's friend's car. In the end, Frank and Boltie do a ful scale assault on Jacques' mansion- during a very important drug deal. This is right after Boltie effectively rapes Frank in her home (that's the pedofile bit). During the assault, Sarah is raped by one of the drug dealers. Boltie is killed in the assault. Frank saves Sarah, who then leaves him a few months later, remarries, and has multiple children- who send "Uncle Frank" drawings regularly. Frank sits on a bed in his room, the walls covered with such drawings, narrating that his purpose was to save Sarah.

I just saved you two hours of pain.

Is this a movie about a mentally ill man who regresses into a comic book world when his wife leaves him? Is it a commentary on how ridiculous the concept of costume-clad vigilantes is? Is it an excuse to feature a 40-ish man having sex with a child-like girl? Is it an excuse to mock Christianity and Christian television and comic books?

A better question might be, what could have made this movie better?

A better ending for one thing. They made me sit through one and a half hours of highly offensive content, only to have the "hero" lose the girl in the end.

They could have let the sidekick live. Libby (Ellen Page) was clearly a disturbed kid herself. And even though the film takes great pains to point out she is 22, she still appears to be a child, and her complaining that she hasn't screwed anyone in some time, then forcing Frank to service her, was stomach churning.

Maybe "Super" was an attempt to sicken folks who normally like super hero films?

When you look at my synopsis, the movie has great premise. Scumbags being beaten by a crazy vigilante. Problem is, that's been done, and much better: "Punisher War Zone" (2008) is a movie about a mentally disturbed man who dons a costume and begins a serial-killing spree against criminals. I love that movie. It's great fun. "Super" on the other hand wants to punish me for liking the whole comic book premise. It shows me nothing but negativity.

I think the best part of "Super" was when Libby rams a bad guy with Frank's car, pinning him against a wall. It breaks the guy's legs, and almost disables Frank's car. Realism, with some gruesome, yet deserved violence. I liked it. Too bad that 4 minutes was smack in the middle of this hour-forty movie.

If you want a "realistic" super hero movie, see "Kick Ass" or maybe "Defendor". "Super" is more disturbing than it is entertaining.

The Greatest Scifi Weapon of All Time

2011-06-16T09:14:00.000-04:00

A while back, IO9.com had an article about the most awesome weapons of all time. They included things like Nova Bombs and the Deathstar. They based their choices on the sheer destructibility of the weapons.

That's lame.

As I have been gripped by the replica collecting bug, I have been giving serious thought to what makes a great Scifi weapon. For one, I need to be able to own one. I can't very well hang a Deathstar in my basement. A scale replica to be sure, but it's so tiny it kind of loses it's immense coolness.

Here then is the criteria that should be used in determing the Greatest Scifi Weapon of All Time, with scores ranging from 1 to 10

Lethality. Weapons are afterall for killing, or at least stopping their targets. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being the equivament damage the average, untrained person could do with their bare hands and 10 being the complete disintegration of the intended target.

Ease of Use. A weapon isn't very cool if you can't use it. Does a weapon require special training or that you were born a _________ to use? On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 would be a weapon that you need only speak a command, or push a button to eliminate your opponent. 1 Would be a weapon that only that rare 5th -Element kind of person, or someone with years of training could use.

Ammunition. Let's face it, a weapon that uses ammunition is only effective for as long as that ammo holds out. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 would be a weapon that has one shot, and is never replaceable. 10 would be a weapon that requires no ammunition at all, like something bladed.

Availability. Those rare, one of a kind weapons are cool on screen, but if you're a five year old kid and another kid has the same rare weapon, you aren't going to be happy. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 point is awarded for a unique weapon that no one else can possess, that is hidden in an impenetrable fortress at an undisclosed location. 10 is a weapon that is readily available to the general populace.

Coolness. Cool and Great go together. You can be great at killing, but not cool. Why not have both? On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 point would be awarded for a weapon so dorky only the biggest of nerds would be caught dead with it. 10 points awarded for something that could make the biggest nerd be as cool as Han Solo (the Greatest Starship Captain of All Time)

Replica Accuracy. Remember, what makes a great scifi weapon is the fact that you can own one yourself- or a reasonable facsimile there of. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 would be a replica about as detailed as the scribblings of a kindergartner. In crayon. 10 would be a replica so detailed and masterfully made, it looks better than the fictional thing.

Scale. When owning a replica, you want to be able to display it effectively. I can put that Deathstar on my christmas tree, but the lack of it's impossible-in-the-movie/that's-no-moon size lessens it's greatness. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 point is awarded for weapons that have to be miniaturzed to the extent detail is impossible to see without a microscope. 10 points awarded for a 1;1 replica that fits easily in your hand- so you can take it places to show it off.

Replica Safety. Oh sure, you could hang a real, iron Mjolnir on your wall, but if it ever fell off, shit is going to be broken- and possibly toes. Similarly, razor sharp katanas may not be the best thing to hang on walls in earthquake country, either. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 point is awarded for replicas so dangerous, just looking at them injures you, and 10 points are awarded for those replicas that are safe enough for babies to slobber all over.

Replica Price. Again, the award for Greatest Weapon is going to something I can actually posses. If it's so cheap, it's damn near free, I'm giving it 10 points. If I have to have the personal wealth of Bill Gates to afford one, it gets 1 point.

Replica Availability. Even if you have the funds, many replicas can be hard to find- even on the internet. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 point is awarded for replicas that require the use of a Tradis to find, while replicas available in major retail outlets near you, as you read this, are awarded 10 points.

With all that being said, the maximum score for this review will be 100. For a weapon: capable of disintegrating it's target; that the average person could use without training or any special, inherent ability; that does not require ammunition; is readily available to the general public and does not require only the greatest of heroes to locate; is so cool Han Solo wishes he had one.

That has a replica that is spot-on accurate; will fit in your hand; is baby-safe; can be purchased with funds saved from skipping lunch; and is readily available right this moment with minimal shopping effort.

Which weapon will it be? (See Comments below)

2011-05-19T18:40:00.003-04:00

GO FISHIN'!

Part 1: Teach a Kid to Fish

There aren't many things that will get me to voluntarily leave the dadcave, but fishing is one of them. Not because I think it's a sport- I don't. I mean, how could it be a sport? I fish for bluegill and bass- which I outweigh by about oh, three hundred pounds. I'm also way smarter- you don't see me eating food attached to lines leading off out of sight. And I have thumbs. Thumbs are great.

No, I enjoy fishing for other reasons. Mainly, 'cause I like all that free, fresh fish I catch. Throw it back? Only cuz the law says so. Or because they're too small to mess with cleaning. Otherwise... they're goin' straight in muh belly! I also enjoy fishing because it's like a camping trip- a chance to go out into nature and enjoy some fresh air and quiet. Without the overnight stay, tents and crapping in the woods.

But there's one main reason I now fish that I haven't mentioned. My kids.

Kids don't exactly see fishing in the same light we grownups do. Thinking back to when I was a kid, I liked to go because I liked catching fish. Yeah, eating them was good, but the ones at Long John Silver's or Captain D's were just as good (and came with fries). Kids enjoy being outside, sort of. Kids also like the adventure of spending time with their dad, grand-dad or other family member.

But forget about all that for a moment. The reason you need to take your kids fishing is so they learn a critical life skill. People have after all, been fishing for thousands of years. It's a crucial survival skill I put up there with firemaking and finding your way home.

Think about it. How many people do you know that if they had to, could catch a fish, clean it and eat it? I know we live in a modern society where we can order over the phone or on-line for pizza, chinese, or countless other foods. Where we can go to the grocery to meet all our dietary needs. But what if push comes to shove and you find yourself lost, near a body of water, with only a paperclip and some dental floss in your pocket? Could you catch a fish?

You can always buy your kids fishsticks to satisfy their hunger. But if you teach them how to fish... they can feed themselves.

Not sold on the survival skills? Well, let's go back to that whole kids-love-fishing theme. Kids do. My earliest memories are from when I was three years old and went on a fishing trip to Canada with my parents and grandparents. I can't remember what my dearly departed papaw's face looked like, but I distinctly remember sitting in his lap and driving the boat. And later getting a horrible splinter in the palm of my hand on shore. 40 years later.

When you go fishing, you can leave a lot of the hecticness of modern life behind. Just you, your kids, some fresh air, some mosquitos and a nice lake or pond. But best of all, when the kids get bored or have to go potty, you grab up your gear and drive home. Hopefully with some fishies. That beats camping any day of the week!

In part 2, I'll discuss something most anglers wouldn't: the dangers of taking your kids fishing.

The Dangerfield Effect

2011-05-11T13:49:00.001-04:00

Rodney Dangerfield was a comic genius. From his amazing standup to his memorable character in Caddyshack, the guy could make you laugh.

Over the years of enjoying his "I can't get no respect" routine, I never really empathized with Rodney. I thought it was all fun and games. I laughed until I cried and enjoyed all his hilarious, bug-eyed jokes. Until today.

Today, after 14 years of marriage, fatherhood and pet ownership, I finally get it. 'Cause I get no respect.

There I was, home on my lunch hour, preparing one of my favorite Velveeta sandwhiches when I turned away from the kitchen counter for just a moment. And my dog jumped up and began to knaw on the Velveeta block. No respect for my food. If I had tried the reverse- grabbing my dog's food when she was about to eat- I'd be missing a finger or two.

I should have seen this a long time ago. When I got married, my wife refused to say that she would honor or obey me. I was too young, in love and ready to get it on to mind. I let it slide and said the rest of the vows with her. Over time, I saw just why she couldn't promise to honor (respect) me. Because she enjoyed berating me too much. Like as we walked out of department stores and she would argue with me in the parking lot for all to hear. When I would complain, she would snap back "You don't know those people- why do you care?!"

It didn't get better when we had our first child. I got peed and pooped on. Several times. And when my oldest was mobile, she couldn't respect daddy's privacy in the bathroom.

"Daddy! What are you doing in there?"

"Daddy's pooping- go away."

Both my children still pester me when I'm in the bathroom. And when I'm trying to sleep. When I'm trying to mow the yard, or watch movies in my basement. Sure, sure, some call it love, but I am starting to think they don't respect my space. Like when they jump on me like I'm a climbing wall and drive little knees into my groin. Nor do my kids respect my stuff. All the broken memorabilia adorning my movie room, all the candy wrappers, spilled food and half-emptied drinks they leave littered around like the after-effects of a frat party prove that.

And don't get me started on the back-sassing.

Clearly, my dog doesn't respect me. A two year-old border collie-hybrid, she follows me around everywhere I go as well. She slobbers on me like I'm a popsicle. Chews on my arm, pulls on my pant legs and most recently decided to, for the first time ever, chew on my slippers. The slippers that protect my feet from all the Barbie shoes and jewelry beads my kids leave laying out in their dastardly plan to puncture my feet.

But going after my cheese? Well, clearly, that is a huge sign of disrespect. I thought I was the Alpha Male of the house, and that all my girls feared and respected me. Turns out I'm far closer to the Rodney Dangerfield of the house.

I think from now on, I'm going to call this the Dangerfield Effect. When my kids walk in and change the channel on the TV I'm watching. So they can watch the latest episode of Spongebob or Big Time Rush. Or when I'm playing Xbox with my other dad friends and the kids decide to walk in front of the TV. That's the Dangerfield Effect. A complete lack of respect.

Oh, the Dangerfield Effect is rampant in my home. It's responsible for my tools disapearing out of my tool bag. It is clearly behind the consumption of the snacks I buy just for me (and yes, I get the kids their own snacks). It's behind the lamentations I hear when Tuesday rolls around and I declare that it is finally Daddy's night to pick what we're eating, and yes, we are having pasta. Again.

The Dangerfield Effect isn't confined to any one geographic location. It's mobile. Like when my wife declares she doesn't like the music I'm listening to in the car and just changes it. To countyr music (which I hate). Or when the kids decide to kick the back of my seat as I drive along. Or best of all, when I excuse myself from the table at a restaurant and my littlest asks loudly "Are you going to go potty, daddy?"

No respect.

I finally get it, and I have to say to the dearly departed Rodney Dangerfield- I feel ya, man. I feel ya.

THOR: EPIC ADVENTURE FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY

2011-05-10T19:16:00.001-04:00

It's always nice to find a movie you can watch safely with your kids- that doesn't have sex, or extreme violence or heart-stopping terror. Something with a positive message and admirable characters for your children to emulate. Thor has all that and more.

If you don't have a comic book background, don't worry. Thor may be based on Marvel Comics' interpretation of Norse Mythology, but it's a solid movie that stands on its own. And it's far less crimefighter than it is fantasy adventure.

Thor tells the tale of the Prince of Asgard- an otherworldly domain far from, but connected to, Earth. Thor, the character, is an impetuous hero full of swagger and ready to leap joyously into battle. His brother, Loki, is a more reserved, thinking man. Both vie for the attention of their father, Odin. Through the course of the movie, we see the two very different paths the brothers take, but which both threaten the peaceful kingdom of Asgard.

If you're overly religious, you might be a little worried about Thor and it's "gods". Don't be. The movie deftly avoids the whole "gods" issue even more than the comic book did. The Asgardians, or "Aesir", are a humanoid race gifted with super strength, longevity and advanced, almost magical technology. They have visited Earth before, as well as many other realms, prompting (in the movie) the Nordic legends of Odin and his pantheon. But they aren't gods- they're near-immortals who are fallible and emotional and basically just super-versions of us.

Thor has several redeeming messages. Instead of just fighting evil, the movie's hero undergoes a short journey, to Earth, where he learns humility and self-sacrifice. He is rewarded for this journey and hopefully kids will pick up on the message: being a butthead is wrong. Being good and noble is right.

Thor also shows us the dynamic between father and son- the impetuous Thor disobeys his powerful father and is stripped of his powers and cast down to Earth to live among mortals. A valuable lesson for kids to be sure- listen to your parents. If you don't, you'll eventually see they were right anyway.

But what about violence? Thor is after all a viking-like figure who carries a warhammer and loves bashing his foes with it. There is some comic book violence, but the best thing is none of it is directed by Thor against people. Only monsters. The odds of little Timmy smashing his brother in the head with dad's claw hammer should be minimal.

Sex? None to be had in this film. In fact, Thor is a gentleman who kisses female lead Natalie Portman's hand when he must bid her goodbye- despite the fact they fell in love at first sight. True, Portman's Jane Foster grabs Thor by the face and lip wrassles him, but still, it's very tame and very safe for impressionable children.

Aside from the issue of whether or not your kids should see this, there's the question of will your kids like this. Mine did. Thor is all about fantasy lands and magic and swords and men in armor fighting beasts. There are princes and kings and queens. There's even a badass female warrior, named Sif. It's all very magical and stuff. Little girls will be enchanted, boys will want to watch monsters getting smashed.

How about the 3D? Well, I personally didn't think it needed it. Only a very few scenes really utilized 3D. My kids don't like wearing those dorky 3D glasses, so I think they'll like this much better at the drive in and on DVD/Bluray in a few months.

Finally, you might be wondering how this compares to other superhero movies. Well, it doesn't.

Ironman had a gigalo, alcoholic playboy in the lead. It was all high-tech and heavy metal and humor. My kids enjoyed it, but Tony Stark's sleepover really made me wish for a fast forward button in the theater. Ironman, while in my opinion the best superhero movie ever made, is not kid-friendly.

Ironman 2 wasn't much better... more booze, more babes. And more funny.

The Incredible Hulk? Well... again, they had to throw the sex thing in. Dr. Banner getting a little too excited during some heavy petting. Totally understandable- it was Liv Tyler... but still... not really appropriate for kids.

Batman? Of all the Batman movies, none seem appropriate for small children. Unless you go back to Adam West's 1966 flick.

Superman? Well, Superman Returns was better than most, but still it had to go all supersexy, by introducing Superman's love child by Lois Lane. Again, just not child appropriate.

Thor beats them all. With a hammer of goodness. Four Hammers Up!

Movie Re-View: "INVASION U.S.A."

2011-05-02T18:18:00.001-04:00

Tired of all the smut and slasher violence on TV these days? Turn back the clock and pop in something from yesteryear that might just be kinder and gentler for you and your kids...

While we may not be able to watch Osama Bin Laden get blown away, we can fulfill our terrorist-killing hunger by watching the Chuck Norris-classic, INVASION U.S.A.

Premiering in 1985, this Cannon Films action epic pitted ex-CIA Agent Matt Hunter (Norris) against a Soviet-engineered invasion of America by an army of mercenaries and terrorists from around the world. Explosions! Gun fights! Car Chases! Ass-kicking! Invasion U.S.A. had it all!

The film starts off the Coast of Florida, with a boat load of cuban refugees adrift. A Coast Guard cutter comes along but instead of saving the poor immigrants, machine guns them all straight to Davy Jones' locker. The movie quickly moves to a night time beach in Florida where refurbished WWII landing craft set down, pouring out an army of terrorists that load up into waiting vehicles and spread across the country, killing Americans one neighborhood at a time.

But fear not! Agent Hunter comes out of retirement from his Everglades home and unleashes a war of whoop ass on the invaders, culminating in their crushing defeat in a downtown Florida office building.

IS IT APPROPRIATE FOR MY KIDS?

Only with some fast remote control work. In addition to cheesy kills, squibs and pyrotechnic explosions, Invasion U.S.A. does feature a brief visit to a titty bar, as Agent Hunter tracks down leads in his search for the invaders' leader. Floppy 80s boobies sure surprised me and were not in my memory of this awesome asskickfest, and were entirely inappropriate for kids. As soon as Chuck enters the bars, it's time to chapter skip past the hooters.

Aside from the boobage, Invasion U.S.A. is a very child appropriate film. Power Rangers has more violence, albeit slightly less graphic. And, Invasion U.S.A. teaches the very real lesson that the good guys always win- primarily because bad guys are such incredible morons.

OVERALL RATING: Both fists up on this great action movie- as long as you keep the remote control in hand!

Available on DVD, via Amazon.com and other online retailers. Good luck finding this gem in a local store.

2011-04-19T15:01:00.004-04:00

TERMINAL CANCER PATIENT AND GAMER BURGLARIZED WHILE RECOVERING FROM SURGERY

At 24, Tom (aka PhantomHalfling) should have died. Medulloblastoma, a highly malignant brain tumor, wracked his body leading to brain surgery and a long, grueling, recovery. But Tom fought the cancer and survived.

Tom went on to marry and to have two daughters, now aged eleven and fourteen. Tom is not only a super dad, but a great family man who enjoys life the way only someone who has come so close to death can. He is a loving father, a great uncle, and a great friend.

Twenty three years later, life has again kicked Tom squarely where it hurts. First, Tom's wife walked out on him the day after New Year's. After she unexpectedly filed for divorce, Tom lost his job - a victim of downsizing. When Tom thought things couldn't get any worse, Tom's cancer roared back with a vengeance. This time attacking not only in his brain, but also his spine- costing him the use of his legs.

But Tom wouldn't give up. He continued to fight. He fought the cancer and kept on being the best dad he can on the too short occasions he gets to see his kids. On Xbox, Tom has fought against nazis, zombies and nazi-zombies. He patrolled the radioactive wastelands of New Vegas and fought the denizens of the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

But there was one thing Tom could not fight: thieves.

While Tom was hospitalized, recovering from surgery, some fine citizens decided to drop by for a visit. It's unknown if they came like thieves in the night or boldly during the day, but what is known is that they came up the wheelchair ramp to Tom's front door, kicked it in, and stole him blind. Not dissuaded by the sight of two wheelchairs in the home, they set upon Tom's meager belongings like locusts. Everything Tom could enjoy while confined to his bed or wheelchair was stolen. Tom's TV, his surround sound system, his blueray player, his laptop, his printer, the replacement Xbox he'd purchased just months before- all gone. Along with his games, music, and movies. Anything that Tom could enjoy as a paralyzed adult was taken from his home.

Maybe the thieves thought Tom was too old to play Xbox. Maybe they thought the entertainment center was for when he got to see his kids, every other weekend. I mean, why would someone who is so sick even want an Xbox? Wouldn't they rather sit around and contemplate the not-to-distant end of their life? And Tom's kids shouldn't be inside- they should be playing in the yard, instead of spending time with their paralyzed father.

Who could have done such a thing? Was it the two guys who had helped move a couch from the home a few days earlier? Or maybe the juvenile delinquents across the street?Or someone else from the neighborhood who knew Tom's predicament and his recent surgery? It doesn't really matter. Afterall, surely Tom has insurance that might cover this loss...

It's All Fun and Games, 'til somebody lases an eye

2011-04-06T10:12:00.000-04:00

Lasers. They're very cool. And very dangerous. And that's apparently something people need to be reminded of.

When I was a kid, lasers were the stuff of TV. I remember watching Professor John Robinson battling rubbery-costumed aliens outside the Jupiter 2, his laser gun blazing. I'd have given anything for a laser pistol of my own back then. Fast forward forty years, and lasers are fairly common. While there are some capable of igniting paper, most are strictly of the low-wattage, pointer-variety. I can't blast annoying varmints in the backyard with average laser. Yet.

Today's lasers come in a variety of colors, some small enough to fit on your keychain. They are for use as pointers during presentations, to aim digital thermometers or tapeless measuring systems, as levels for home improvement work, and even for tormenting your pets. All of these lasers share one very important feature: a prominent warning message on the side, advising you NOT to point them at anyone's eyes. That you could risk blinding them.

I carry a laser with me all the time. It's built into my flashlight. I carry a flashlight on my belt because I often have to retrieve files from the dimly lit, baasement storage room at my day job. I didn't order this flashlight off the internet solely because it had a laser. I was just looking for a super-bright, LED, AA-battery powered flashlight. The laser was just an unexpected benefit.

Having desperately desired a laser as a child, I of course have to use my laser flashlight as much as possible. It's a sort of repressed childhood wish come true. My most common use of a laser at work is when I'm consulted as an advanced computer user.

"How do I change my wallpaper?" my co-workers will ask. "Where did my tool bar go?" they ask. "Why isn't my document printing?" they ask. How people who use computers daily lack these simple, basic skills is beyond me. But I step in and try to help. Before my laser light, I would have to lean over their shoulders and extended a hammy hand to their screen, pointing out exactly where they needed to click on their tool bar. I'm a teach-a-man-to-fish kind of guy, and I insist on people learning how to solve the problem in the future, rather than keep bugging me about it. Now that I am armed with laser technology, I can stand back, all Professor-like, and point at their screens from a safe distance.

On my most recent foray into teaching Windows Basics for Dummies, one of my co-workers was more interested in my laser flashlight than learning how to solve problems for herself. She asked if she could see my gadget. I handed it over after a brief explanation of how to alternate between LED light and laser emitter. I then turned back to the computer of another co-worker to solve the pressing computer problem.

And promptly got my eye lased.

You would think that a 60-something year old grandmother would know better than to shine a laser in someone's eye. But no, like a small kid incapable of reading the laser warning, she was oblivious to the danger of lasers. She thought it would be funny to shine the laser around at people.

Some online resources may tell you that brief exposure to a laser-pointer device cannot cause permanent eye injury. That it takes several seconds of continuous staring to do significant damage. But do you really want to gamble with your vision?

Just last year I learned that not only can lasers damage your vision, they can trigger migraines.

There I was illuminating various objects around the house with a laser for my children's amusement. It was an impromptu laser light show. The finale of the show was when Iilluminated a crystal one of the kids had picked up at a museum giftshop. Instead of just hitting it with the laser from afar, I set the crystal on the laser. I'd already shown the kids how the crystal could diffuse light from a flashlight. The crystal glowed brilliantly, but didn't produce a lightsaber or any cool multi-beam effect. But it did sparkle a little. I was hypnotized by the odd sparkling. I kept staring at it. For several moments. I then thought- should I really be staring at a laser?

About ten minutes after the light show, we all sat down to watch TV. I noticed a floater in my field of vision. It began to grow. Over the course of fifteen minutes, it went from the size of a quarter held at arm's length, to the size of a dinner plate. The floater was surrounded by a dazzling, rainbow-hued line, surrounding an out of focus blob in the middle. This was accompanied by an excruciating headache. Panic set it.

Some ibuprofen and a multi-hour nap later, my vision came back. I paid my doctor a visit and learned that the symptoms I described indicated I had a migraine but no lasting eye damage. Lesson learned.

If you own, or find yourself using a laser, please be responsible and heed the safety warnings- they are put there for a reason. Don't point them at your own, or other people's eyes!

GODADDY: Feeding the Children One Elephant at a Time

2011-03-31T15:07:00.001-04:00

For years, one of my favorite things to say is "Save the Whales- I'll eat them Later".

Not because I hate whales (I don't) but because it absolutely drives me crazy everytime I see some animal nut going on and on about poor abused dogs when there are countless children starving around the world right now. Those morons that ram Japanese Whaling ships should be ashamed to show their face in public. The money they piss away on protecting whales could feed more children than Sally Struthers could ever think of.

Today, I did my afternoon check of Twitter news blurbs and saw that Marlee Matlin is having a fit about an elephant being killed in Africa by GoDaddy CEO on safari. The article she linked to went on to say how the elephant in question was actually destroying crops near a village. This wasn't Dumbo harmlessly entertaining kids in the big top, gunned down by anti-fun terrorists. This was a dangerous animal causing villagers to starve.

Now, maybe Mr. Parsons shouldn't have posted graphic videos on the internet (I haven't seen them yet, so I don't know if they're that bad). But how can anyone with one iota of intelligence condemn this? Especially when said elephant was eaten by the villagers (and their children). Do you think that any of the little M'Timmies there shed a tear as they got a decent meal for what could have been the first time in months? I sure don't.

Ms. Matlin is a mother herself, and after seeing her on the Celebrity Apprentice (which was why I was following her in the first place) seemed like a pretty sensible woman. But after her tirade all in the name of poor Dumbo, I have to re-evaluate that.

I've been a godaddy customer for several years now, but was considering changing to a different company. After seeing Mr. Parsons aid to the children of Africa, I will be staying a GoDaddy customer for a very long time.

TALL PEOPLE DON'T GET PAID MORE- SHORT PEOPLE BITCH MORE

2011-03-31T09:04:00.001-04:00

There it was again on the morning news- the myth that tall people get paid more. What utter bullshit. And it annoys me more and more everytime I hear it.

I'm 6'5".

This whiney myth- typically told by short people- really irks me to no end. I've been tall all my life and have had a variety of jobs. In not one of them have I had a co-worker taller than me. And in not one of them was I the highest-paid employee.

My current job, the other guy working with me in the same position made the exact same money as me- despite the fact I had 13 years seniority on him and was a foot taller. Before him, I had 12 years seniority and 6 inches height advantage- we made the same. The guy before him... well, he was my supervisor and had 15 years seniority on me, and was 8 inches shorter- and made a buttload more than I did.

What about in the military? Nope- height had nothing to do with it. Rank and how many mouths you had to feed did. Despite the fact I had been in three years, I remember new guys coming in, two ranks lower than me, but with a wife and kids, making far more than me. And they were all shorter.

I could go on and on, but I've proven my point.

Short, ugly people also like to claim that beautiful tall people get paid more. Now, I'm not vain, so I don't think I'm handsome- I am just me. My wife likes to tell me I'm handsome all the time- when she's not telling me I'm gross. And I've had an unnerving amount of older and married women work-stalking me. But I still never made any more money.

It's all bullshit. Nobody makes more money because they're tall- except basketball players. All you whiners that keep claiming this need to shut up. The reason you get paid less is because you're a shitty worker or have a bad attitude. In fact, in my experience, the short, ugly, overweight folks tend to stick together and be envious of those they wish they could be like. They hire and promote other insecure, obnoxious people.

I don't play sports. I sit at a desk. I get paid far less than I think I should or than what people in other areas get paid for my same job. Being tall hasn't done me any good- except maybe making it easier to change light bulbs.

LICENSE TO FART

2011-03-30T09:13:00.001-04:00

I am gross. I am SO gross. Just ask my wife.

When I'm sucking down a home-cooked meal a little too fast and have to let fly a gut-rumbling, table-shaking belch, I'm gross.

When I'm in bed for the night, my body relaxing, and I unleash a bed-shaking, cheek-slapping, nose-burning fart, I'm gross.

Even when I'm using a kleenex to sound the air horn and expel snot from my head, I'm gross.

My wife pretty much either tells me she loves me, or that I'm gross. It's a 50/50 chance at any given time.

I don't think I'm gross. Do I not courtesy flush when emitting stomach-churning, paint-peeling fumes from the porcelain throne? Do I not roll down the window of the van when I've ripped a silent-but-deadly?

The kids don't think I'm gross. They love potty humor. They think I'm funny. Especially when they can join in. They clearly took the potty training book title Everyone Poops to heart. Not so the wife.

And as I get older, it's become harder to resist the constant barrage of condemnation from the wife. At long last, I had to point out she is living in a glass house. Wives- in particular moms- are pretty gross, too.

First off, everyone breaks wind. It's a biological function. It is true many folks manage to hold it in until they can get to a safe blasting distance, but the occassional emission is had. Same thing with belches- especially when drinking carbonated drinks. Everyone does it.

And let's not forget morning sickness.

Oh, yes, my wife forgot all about that. She forgot her all-hours-of-the-day-and-night Linda Blair impersonations. Her fountains of projectile vomit that went on for weeks and weeks. She forgot how I had to clean up her half-digested sweet tea and pineapple chunks. From the carpet, bed cover, walls, and even refrigerator. Even with the wet/dry shop vac I bought with our second child, it was a disgusting task. I don't like vomit, and I sure didn't enjoy having to clean it up from wherever Mommy Appleseed happened to drop it around the house. Multiple times a day. But did I complain? No.

Then there were the diapers. I helped change them too. The nasty, liquified peanut-buttery like messes that made me wish for a hazmat suit. In fact, my worst memory of child rearing was the time my child walked up, pulling a hand from where she'd been scratching her butt, as if to initiate a secret father-daughter handshake. In the midst of reading the internet, I absent-mindedly took the sweet, innocent hand of my barely-walking baby. That was covered in crap. I wish she had kept that handshake a secret. Not the best way to let da-da know she needed a butt change.

I think, nay, I KNOW that I've earned the license to be gross. It's like uncouth Karma. Even more, I think my wife should shut up about it. Did I constantly tell her that her projectile vomit was disgusting while washing it off the walls? No. I pulled my t-shirt up over my nose, ground my teeth and fought the urge to vomit myself as I blotted up congealed stomach solutions and chunks of her last craving. I soldiered on.

It's not like I walk up to the wife and ask her to pull my finger. Or dash across the room, whirl around and stick my wallet in her face immediately prior to a discharge. I don't blow the hair from her eyes with a massive burp at the dinner table. These natural body emissions just happen on their own. She should accept this, be polite and pretend to ignore them- even if she does occassionally turn green and have to physically pinch her nose shut.

And it's only going to get worse. I remember my grandfathers. I remember how they bubbled and hissed and filled a room with all sorts of port-a-potty-like smells from time to time. As I get older, my self-control will decrease and my bodily functions will increase. The Fart Factory is just coming online.

The next time the mother of your children lets fly a barb about your grossness, look her square in the eyes and reply "Glass Houses, baby... glass houses...".

Or you could burp-talk "Sorry." I think that works pretty good, too.

The Blankey of DOOM

2011-03-28T21:17:00.001-04:00

Just when you think you've seen it all, your kids unleash some new, horrifying ability. My daughter, Indy-manda Jones (age 5) sure did last night. With her blankey.

I should start by pointing out that "White" isn't really a blankey. It's a tattered, faded, two sizes too small Hello Kitty body suit made of faux velvety goodness. She carries it around everywhere, Linus-style. It is part security blanket, part napkin, part germ gathering drag along, part car pillow, part night time teddy bear/rag-thing. White has many cousins: Blue, Pink, Black... they too aren't really blankets, but rather pillows, pajama tops and even a sheet of fabric that could have been made into a blanket, but which we never got around to doing. But like in the Highlander, there can only be one. And it is White.

So there we were settling down to watch TV in the dadcave, Mandi clutching White and doing the sleepy time head nod. Big Sis, age 11, moved a neatly folded quilt onto the couch. Mandi immediately sprang awake, snatching the quilt and using it as a pillow. Rather than admit she was outwitted by her 5 year old nemesis, my older daughter regressed a few years and began to bicker with her sister about the quilt. In mere moments, the damage had been done. Mandi leapt into a Hulk-like rage, screaming and crying and declaring that "Nobody Loves Me!" before storming off to the playroom, germ-encrusted White dragging on the ground behind her.

Wishing I could just once have some peace and quiet during one of my television shows, I first begged, then later demanded, Mandi come back, sit down and be quiet. My plan almost worked. Until Big Sis tackled me on the couch- wrapping me in a death grip and evilly declaring to her little sister "My Daddy!" The Shrieking She-Hulk immediately returned.

Apparently intent to beat her older sister to a bloody pulp with the dirty, plush softness of White, Indy-Manda began whipping her White back and forth over head. On the second back stroke of her enraged fly fishing routine, she snared a prize. A half empty bottle of cream soda Big Sis had left out on the dry bar- because kids never put stuff away.

Had White been made of kangaroo leather or some material with just the slightest surface friction, I have no doubt the glass soda bottle would have been plucked from the bar, flown across the room and struck me square in the temple just like how David felled Goliath. Instead, the dirty softness of White merely pulled the bottle over- dumping the contents all over White. By this time, though, White was arcing around and snapping back toward Big Sis. Who ducked just in time for White to snap out, releasing its cream soda cargo in a mighty gusher of spray. Coating me and the couch in drink.

There's no real moral to this story. I just thought that I should share the amazing The Cape-like ability of Blankeys, formerly hidden from parental eyes.

TROGLO-VIEW: The Cheesecake Factory- bird food for the whole family

2011-03-23T19:44:00.001-04:00

So it's spring break and we once again take our kids out to local attractions to broaden their minds and my wife picks restaurants to broaden her waistband. It's our week of splurge.

Well, it would have been.

It's my fault, really. I should have known that with a girly name like "Cheesecake Factory" the place wouldn't be worth a damn. But I was feeling all magnanimous and happy to be away from my craphole of work for a week. So I caved in.

Man, the prices in the over-decorated restaurant were high. But seeing as how the decor was right out of an old folks home or a 70s gangster movie, I kind of expected that. Being a bit of a rebel and a cheeseburger connosieur, I opted for a burger, instead of some fru-fru platter of poached pomegranites smothered in sissy sauce.

Our waitress was fantastic. Despite the fact she looked like she was barely out high school, the girl was an old pro at the serving game. Plenty of smiles, graciousness, neat and clean and superb service.

And when the food came I was shocked to see the bathtub-sized platter of food my wife got. Same for my oldest daughter, who got a ginormous platter of spaghetti. It was clear both the girls would be taking food home. My mouth started to water at the idea of a Fred Flintstone-sized bronto burger. Instead, I got a happy meal. Without the toy.

I shit you not, I have gotten burgers from Dairy Queen the same size. Maybe bigger. Americana Burger? More like, tiniest-assed country in Central America burger. A Texan would have bitch slapped somebody if they were served something that small. My God, it was like White Castle catering a fancy dinner. But on a giant sized plate. You could have fit three or four of those burgers on there. Did the waitress drop some of my food on the way from the kitchen? Do I really need a foot-long plate for a single quarter-pounder? I sure as hell didn't need it for the bouquet of french fries served in a metal cup on the side. Wrapped in paper and planted in the cup to make it look like I got more than I could count on both hands- but which I really could.

You know, I can understand a restaurant that hikes it's prices sky high and serves diet-sized portions. It's for a healthy profit margin. But why in the hell do you serve a bucket of spaghetti and a kiddie burger in the same place? I damn well know that I didn't order off the kid's menu.

My wife sat there and gorged herself on a major protion of the Atlantic's shrimp population, pushing her plate away and complaining she was stuffed. Same for my oldest daughter- lamenting that she just couldn't eat any more of that wonderful spaghetti. Me and my cheeseburger crumbs were not amused. My littlest made it worse by not eating her grilled cheese. It was "yucky". So we got her a second dinner of kids' chicken strips. Which I'll note was more food than my happy meal.

After everyone else finished- I had been done with my dining experience in like five minutes- we ordered cheesecake. At $7 a slice. I was expecting a candy-bar sized sliver of screw-you, but we actually got some decent-sized slices. Of course, at that price-to-food ratio, a whole cheesecake would have cost Donald Trump prices. My wife and oldest again lamented how full they were. I of course didn't have that problem, since the mouthful of cheeseburger I got was rolling around in my stomach all alone.

End result: $93.00 for our family of four, which I calculated was the same as almost three trips to Five Guys.

Will I return? Not very likely. Unless I have a bag of carry out from a real restaurant with me. Like sneaking food into the movie theater.

Cheesecake Factory: Not Dad friendly.

BATTLE: LOS ANGELES- Kid Friendly?

2011-03-14T09:15:00.001-04:00

One of the things many a dad wrestles with is deciding if a movie is suitable for their kids. Kids often want to watch the same thing mom and dad do. Digital Video Recorders at home have really helped in the family watching, as they allow parents to skip past objectionable parts of movies and even television shows- assuming you are watching those programs on a delay.

This past weekend though I had to go it without a remote control and chance taking my girls, ages 5 and 11, to go see the new alien invasion flick, BATTLE: Los Angeles. (Not to be confused with the Syfy Channel's lame-o Battlefield Los Angeles).

I based my decision to take the girls on two factors: first, I've made a real effort to make sure my kids know movies are make believe. We watch all the behind-the-scenes stuff on the DVDs/Blurays, and we watch as many Movie Magic-type programs as possible. Syfy's reality competition, Face Off, has helped immeasurably with my youngest, showing her step by step how makeup effects are done. That being said, I do still limit a lot of horror or gore-type programs. Make believe or not, I don't want my kids being scared to sleep in the dark or getting bad nightmares.

Secondly, I read several reviews of the movie friday. Roger Ebert had one particularly scathing review in which he compared Battle Los Angeles to Independance Day- one of our family favorites. It was this comparison (with which I heartily disagree) that made me decide to take the whole family to watch some invading aliens get their asses kicked by the Marine Corps.

Both my kids fell asleep during this movie.

Shockingly, my 5 year old lasted far longer than her big sister, dozing off only moments before the big climax of the movie. My 11 year old dozed off twice during the movie, for very prolonged naps. How either was able to sleep through the ear drum bursting, chest-thumping loudness of the theater is beyond me. And I'll note I find it odd that as I get older and become hard of hearing, movies seem louder to me. One of the main reasons I dislike going to the movies is the brain-jsotling volume levels. I can control the sound in my home theater.

Is this movie appropriate for kids? Well, aside from boring mine to sleep, I'd say that it is. Sure, we see innocent civilians being killed by aliens. There are bodies in the streets everywhere. But this is a war/diaster movie and nothing on screen is going to be any worse than what children see on the news. Sadly, death and violence occur in plain view in the real world, and I am of the opinion we shouldn't encourage or shield kids from it. They need to be aware of it. I'm not saying they should be forced to watch violence, or that we as parents should drag the kids to a movie because it has violence.

Where does the level of violence fall in Battle: Los Angeles? It's not SAW. Nor is it Saving Private Ryan. The best analogy I've read is comparing the film to Black Hawk Down. And maybe that's why it bored my kids to sleep. The violence wasn't over the top. It's wasn't particularly bloody or gruesome. There weren't flesh eating zombies or disemboweling monsters. The violence, aside from being excessively loud, is fairly low key. Possibly even realistic. The violence isn't bad at all.

What about profanity? Well, it's a war movie. As a veteran I can tell you, soldiers do swear. In fact, I swear at home: "Clean up this (blank) room!" "Didn't I tell you to put these (blank) (blank) toys (blank) away!!!" My kids have heard swearing- or "movie talk" as we like to call it. They understand that movie talk is reserved for adults or those people appearing on TV. Preferably both. I admit to cringing at the G-D I heard in the movie, but again, swearing is something kids are going to hear in real life.

What I do hate to see in movies is sex and nudity. My kids aren't going to see that in plain view. There's a far greater chance of my kids seeing a horrific traffic accident as we drive somewhere, then two consenting adults going at it on the side of the road. I shield my kids from the sex scenes and anyone who argues that sex is natural, it's no big deal for kids to see, etc. etc. I'll gladly accuse of being a closet pedophile. Thankfully, there's no sex in Battle Los Angeles. The only f-ing you see is the alien invaders f-ing up Los Angeles, and the Marines f-ing kicking their asses afterward.

All in all, I'd have to say that Battle Los Angeles is kid-friendly. It may bore them, it may give them a headache, but it's not going to scar them for life. And, in the end, the good guys win, so they hopefully won't come away being particularly worried about any aliens invading.

Yes, you can bring your kids. And you should, because this is a great movie for adults. If you like the whole scifi genre, this is a definite must see. Most of the goofiness of similar movies, plagued with technical inaccuracies and ridiculous writing are gone from Battle Los Angeles. Sure, there are a few corny moments, but you have to have a few in every movie. Sure there are a few errors- but again, every movie has them, and 2 of the 4 I noted were required due to the limitations of filming. For example, the Marines moving on patrol only a few feet from one another. They shouold have been at least 5 meters apart- the kill-radius of a hand grenade. But then they wouldn't have all fit in the frame, and the scene wouldn't have had the same impact. I can forgive the director that. In another scene, the Marines fail to use smoke to obscure their movement. If they had, some fantastic special effects and CGI aliens would have been obscured from my view. So I can live with that too.

And speaking of the aliens... they're great. They are tougher and more advanced than the humans, but our bullets do kill them- unlike many a movie where a 5.56mm round (capable of penetrating concrete blocks) doesn't even tickle the alien/monster/zombie/etc. Nor do the aliens look like people in crazy prosthetics like a Star Trek rerun. Nor do they use fancy lasers or energy-spitting weapons- they shoot projectiles just like we do, because a projectile does far more damage for the energy used to send it. The aliens, and their technology, blend seamlessly with this extremly well-made movie.

Battle Los Angeles is a great movie, and Roger Ebert has again confused entertainment with art.

2011-03-03T13:03:00.001-05:00

WHEN GOOD GADGETS GO BAD... RETURN THEM!

I have a knack for buying those rare factory defects. You know the ones- those items that slip through quality control at the factory and go to the store then your home, then fail spectacularly. Like my first Canon camera. It had a rare lens motor defect that caused the auto-telescoping lens to jam in place. Or the microwave I bought one New Year's Eve. Spent the whole day installing it, then when we fired it up, amazing sparks started flaying around inside.

Now, some folks may have the urge to try and fix things themselves. Or download firmware updates. Or anything rather than go to the time-consuming task of returning an item to get a new one. I empathize. But the best advice anyone can give is that you fully check out your new gadget BEFORE you leave the parking lot.

Take my latest smartphone. I had been using an Android Developer Phone since early 2009. Basically the same thing as the G1, on T Mobile's crappy network. I know that T Mobile likes to condemn AT&T with all those ads with the scrawny girl in bright pink dresses, but where I live AT&T's network blows the doors off T Mobile. it's like comparing DSL to dialup. So anyways, after much research, I closeted the venerable G1 and picked up nice Samsung Captivate- AT&T's version of the Galaxy S.

Right off, the phone is remarkable. It has a very high resolution display. 16Gb of internal memory, a micro SD card slot. Video out, micro USB charge slot... it's a sleek, easy to use Android phone. Despite the fact that it was a little too sleek for my big butterfingers, I soon became enraptured with my new Captivate. I bought a special Otterbox Defender case for it. Extra charging cables. A belt holster.

Then I noticed the GPS wasn't working. Spectacularly not working.

I tried the online troubleshooting. I tried downloading a firmware update. I tried a special GPS repair app from Samsung. Nothing. My wristwatch would be better for GPS navigation- and it can't receive GPS at all.

Resigning myself to the fact that I was going to have to reload all my apps, redo all my contacts, passwords, etc. etc, I decided it was time for a return.

So I head over to the local AT&T store. I wander in, explain to the Hostess on duty out front that I'm there to return my defective phone and she summons Emo Vampire Boy to help me.

Call me crazy, but the Elvira-version of Justin Bieber just doesn't inspire confidence in me. I want a nerd like they have at Bestbuy when I have a technical problem. Someone with bad skin, mad scientist-hair and a pocket protector. But, I play the game and start explaining to Count Emo-youla what's wrong with the phone.

Emo Vampire Boy wouldn't let me finish explaining I can't lock on to ANY satellite. He compels the phone from me and wants to "show me a trick". He then turns on the "Use Wireless networks" options and triumphantly shows me that he can show the location. I explain to him that only approximates your position within 500 feet- I want GPS triangulation. Emo Vampire Boy bares his fangs and tells me that all AT&T phones use Wireless triangulation and can only get you within 500 feet.

Quickly debating whether I should stab him through the heart with a wooden steak or make him listen to happy music, I tell Emo Vampire Boy that I want to exchange the phone for one that works- I've only had the broken one for a few weeks. Knowing that even his emo-vampire strength isn't a match for me since he's barely a third my size, he sighs and tells me there'll be a $37 restocking fee. Unless I have my box.

I tell EVP I don't need a box. He can keep the box for the new phone. EVP tells me doggedly/battedly that no, I have to have my box.

I storm outside. Then I stop and go back in. Dammit, I'm the customer and it's going to be my way. No emotionally-confused, black nail polish-wearing, blood sucking fairy is going to push me around. I demand a manager.

"Tim" comes over to help. I again explain the GPS situation. He wants to know if I use the AT&T Navigator. I tell him no- I don't want to be one of those idiots who turns into the side of a building. I use GPS with Google Maps to find out where I am, or where I'm going. I tell him my previous phone, a G1, was easily able to lock onto satellites. I tell him I've updated the phone to Froyo (Android 2.2) and loaded a GPS fix program from Samsung- but still no GPS signal. I tell him all my online research and troubleshooting points to it's a bad phone.

"Let's step outside", Tim suggests. Did he want to duel? Was he scared Emo Vampire Boy was going to bite him? No, he just wanted to see for himself (since GPS generally works better outside). And then he turned on the Use Wireless Networks and shows me the phone. I wonder if AT&T teaches a special wrist-flip, show-the-customer-their-own-phone move during employee training?

Again, I explain that no, the phone should be receiving a GPS signal. I turn on the GPS Test App and show him NO satellites are detected. He almost sneers and tells me, "Oh, that's just an app you're using."

Say what?! It's an OFFICIAL App. From the Android Marketplace. Does he think all the other functions of the phone aren't controlled by applications? Apparently Mentally-Tiny Tim doesn't understand how computers or phones work. I tell him I want a new phone. Being Management, he doesn't really care and takes the easy way out. He agrees I can have a new phone. Then Tiny Tim also parrots the box thing. I demand to know why I can't just use the new box to return the defective phone. Tiny Tim explains there's a unique serial # on the side of the boxes to match the phones. Okay, that makes sense. EVP must have been just too exhausted to tell me that. So I tell Tiny Tim I'll go home- I live nearby- and get my box. But first, I want to make sure there are some other Captivates in stock. I explain I'm sick, and if I go all the way home and return to find they're out of stock, I'll be pissed. Tiny Tim goes to the back, then confirms there is some in stock and he's put my name on one.

I drive home, get the damn box and return.

Now, at this point I'd like to interject my opinion on returns. If I'm within the 30 days, no-questions asked period the sales rep told me when I first got the damn phone, why did I get the whole Inquisition route? I should be able to walk in and tell them anything, and end it with -so I want to swap for a new phone. Anything. "Every time I talk on this it shits in my ear." "It levitates and flies around the room at night... I think it's haunted." "I seem to be picking up alien transmissions- or maybe it's Al Franken on Air America." Whatever I say, I expect to be able to return the phone... since that was what I was promised.

Once I'm back to the Store of Many Questions, the Hostess greets me again and gets some blonde chick to help me. She initially appeared to be a hot blonde. A very hot blonde. As we walk over to her register next to a guy who looks like a Chubby Simon Pegg, I'm thinking- why couldn't I have talked to her instead of Emo Vampire Boy when I first came in. Hot Blonde begins to ring up the exchange and finally asks for my sim card to put in the new phone. When she reaches across the counter for it, that's when I notice the dirty nails. Like she'd clawed her way out of the ground or something. Really weird, considered she has clean skin and hair, sparkling teeth and was very neat and cleanly dressed- not even any lint on her AT&T black sweater. Perhaps she dug Emo Vampire Boy up and brought him to work earlier in the day? Or maybe she had been helping Chubby Simon Pegg fight zombies before her shift?

So I get the new phone turned on, and check it's satellite signal. None. Ruh-roh. Dirty Nails comes around the counter to see if she can help. I download the GPS Test app and tell her I want to check the phone before I leave. Chubby Simon Pegg perks up and wants to know what app I'm using. Instead of telling him he had red on his shirt, I told him the name of the app. Chubby Simon Pegg laments about the problems the Captivate has had in the past but how it's supposed to work, blah, blah, blahbbity blah. He eventually goes back to his console, mumbling to himself.

Eventually, I got the phone to work. Where with phone #1, I was able to see a grand total of 8 satellites in view when outside, but couldn't lock on to any of them, phone #2 immediately sees and locks on to 8 satellites. Now that's more like it! I thanked Dirty Nails, who didn't seem so hot anymore, went outside, got in my Mystery Machine and got the hell out of there.

Moral of the story... don't waste time trying to fix or download or talk to some English-is-my-second-language customer support rep when something you bought doesn't work. Just take it back. Even better, don't take it home in the first place until you KNOW it works. All it's features.

And save your box.

Got a Smartphone? You otter box it...

2011-02-21T09:20:00.001-05:00

A crucial piece of gear for any dad is the smart phone. This versatile pocket computer may at first seem like an umbilical cord the wife can jerk you around with no matter where you are, but they are actually quite handy.

Can't remember all those doctor's numbers, addresses and appointments? Put them in the smartphone.

Worried about how you'll remember baby's first words, when they first walked, or your wedding anniversary? Put it in the smartphone.

On your way to the store and you can't find pen or paper to make a shopping list because the kids have stolen every scrap of paper and writing implement in pursuit of their future art career? Type the list into the smartphone.

Can't fit enough pics of the kids in your wallet? Put them in the smartphone- which also holds video, a trick your wallet will never match.

Or maybe you're stuck in a doctor's office lobby, waiting for that annual check up for the kids. They inevitably get bored with estrogenized parenting magazines and aren't into Oprah, Ellen or whatever other daytime fare all the mommies are glued to. No problem, whip out the smartphone and stream some Dora from Youtube. Or maybe play a movie you had the foresight to shrink and drop onto the smartphone ahead of time.

And that's when the baby butterfingers strike.

Down goes your phone, smeared with tiny, juice bag fingerprints, tumbling in slow motion before landing precisely on the one corner that had some microscopic factory defect. The "unbreakable" gorilla glass face shatters on impact. Or maybe the back flies off in one direction, your battery in another. Now what are you going to do?

Oh, sure, you could have bought a Casio waterproof/shockproof phone. Their G-shock watches are damned near indestructible. But smartphones are so much better. The internet, an organizer, a movie and music player- all in one pocket-sized device.

The alternatve is to defend your phone from inevitable droppage. By wrapping it in the strong embrace of an Otterbox polycarbonate box, that is itself surrounded in thick synthetic rubber. No slippery surface anymore. And even if it does get dropped, those delicate corners and smooth, polished plastic surfaces are shielded from damage. Otterbox has been making these cases for years and they really know what they're doing.

At first, you may scoff at spending $50 for a top-of-the-line Otterbox for your smartphone. They aren't even waterproof! But then, you couldn't use that phone in the rain anyway, could you? But think of the peace of mind. Drop protection (not to be confused with G-Shock level protection). Isn't $50 worth that?

Still not convinced? Well, Otterbox also throws in a handy polycarbonate hard holster that clips to your belt. Yes, your wife may call you a nerd, but did you know that putting a phone in your pocket shortens battery life? Your own body heat diminishes the talk time of the phone. Wear it proudly on your bat belt however, and the phone is only subjected to the ambient air temperature, and not your sweaty, man-furnace fumes. Plus, being on your belt, you probably won't accidentally wash it, or test the scratch resistance of the screen protector with whatever man-gear you regularly carry in your pockets.

For the sake of your phone, your sanity and your wallet, drop some coin on an Otterbox. The alternative is too terrible to imagine.

(This is not a paid advertisement for or onbehalf of Otterbox. Other companies also make protective cases for smartphones and PDAs, I just like Otterbox the best)

Daddy's Little Cheaters

2011-02-16T13:01:00.001-05:00

Recently, I read an article about a study that was released confirming what most gaming dads already knew: it does girls good to play video games with their dads.

I've been playing video games with my two girls (5 & 11) for years now. It's good bonding time that I enjoy way more than tea parties, playing Barbies & GI Joes, or watching High School Musical for the 3 millionth time.

In my pre-console gaming days, I had my desktop connected via composite cable to the basement TV. I'd fire up a game and get comfortable while my then-4 year old would settle in on the recliner-couch with a bowl of popcorn and some juice bags. She'd giggle and laugh as I waged war on whatever virtual enemy I chose for the evening. Her favorite was watching me Force-push Stormtroopers to their doom in the classic Jedi Academy First Person Shooter.

When we graduated to the Xbox, I rearranged the old dadcave and we got to both enjoy the couch and a larger TV. My youngest soon joined the party. I even began to play games with the kids. Like the great LEGO series of games.

My latest innovation in family gaming though involves one of my favorites. Cheating.

Not cheating against real people in multiplayer. That would be wrong (and potentially get me banned from Xbox Live). No, I'm talking about online walkthroughs and tips and hints for single player campaigns. In the past, I'd have to pause the games, get on the laptop and try to figure out why the hell I couldn't complete a level. When I was a PC gamer I'd get frustrated and read about doing console commands and making myself invulnerable or giving myself unlimited ammo. The kids always enjoyed it and quite frankly, so did I.

Now though I have cheater co-pilots. In particular, we've been playing Fallout New Vegas, a first person role player that has you criss-crossing the post-apocalyptic Mojave wasteland looking for stuff and helping/killing AI players. My kids love the game, and were quit eager to break out the snacks and backseat-game along with me- pointing out giant, irradiated spiders; offering their opinion on whether I should shoot or negotiate; and face palming when I screwed up and died spectacularly.

But as all casual gamers do, I finally got to points in the game I just couldn't finish on my own. I needed help. I needed an online walkthrough and some maps of hidden locations. Unfortunately, my kids didn't have much patience with me pausing the game for ten minutes or more while I read what the hell was wrong. My eleven year old finally decided to take matters into her own hands.

"When you're ready, daddy," she told me one night, "let me know and I'll look it up." I looked over and there she was on the other end of the couch, the laptop set up on a TV snack stand, notepad and pencil ready.

I've learned that having a gaming co-pilot is quite helpful. Especially one with a detailed online map. Instead of wandering aimlessly in the radioactive wasteland, I can just demand "Where the hell is the Vault 21 entrance?!" In minutes- while I pass the time killing mutated geckos- she's located the coordinates, spun the laptop around and pointed the location out.

My five year old is in on the cheating fun also. While she lacks adequate search-engine skills, she's eager to see the maps as well, and parrot the criticisms my older child gives when I go in the wrong direction.

"No, you're going the wrong way!" older child says.

"You're going the wrong way, daddy!" younger child echoes two milliseconds later. You know, in case I didn't hear the first child.

So if you're a gamer dad who is constantly pestered by your children, or who have children that like to stand between you and the TV screen, don't lose your cool. Put their asses to work. Snack fetching and drink preparation is a great aid to serious gaming. And if they have the skills, set them up to co-pilot on the internet. It's an experience you'll all enjoy.

Just watch your language when die in the game....

Dear Dodge, your "Man Van" is totally Gay.

2011-02-09T09:32:00.000-05:00

(An open letter to the idiots at Dodge)

Dear Dodge,

I was just reading about the new Grand Caravan R/T you're unveiling today. You call it the "Man Van", inferring that minivans are in fact for chicks. That's retarded.

Historically, manliness was measured in strength, combat ability and virility. Having a lot of kids is manly. Based on that alone, a minivan- designed to haul kids around- is manly. Assuming it's for moms only is 1950s thinking. You know, when women stayed at home, in the kitchen. Today, women work and don't loiter around the house waiting for the call to jump in the minivan and go. Minivans are for families. Not just chicks.

"Is it possible to make the minivan appeal to a guy who needs the minivan but who used to have the sports car?" Ralph Gilles, your head designer recently pondered.

Ralph, real men don't need sports cars. Sports cars are for those men with insecurities, or who want to be able to get to the drug store faster when their viagra runs out. Real men are concerned with power, not speed. Power to pull their boats around. To haul lumber or tools. Real, single men favor trucks with four wheel-drive. Then they become dads, and most states make it illegal to put the kids in the bed of the truck. Minivans and SUVs become a neccessity. Not fast cars.

But, for argument's sake, let's assume minivans are feminine. How do you propose manning them up? Upgraded interiors and a new engine? Black interior with red stitching? Performance-tuned suspension and a massive sound system with a 506-watt amp?

Let's start with that sound system. What a fabulous idea to put a chest-thumping rig in the van, where your small children are going to be riding. Kids already have a problem listening to their parents. Thank you, Chrysler, for adding to the problem by making them deaf.

Performance-tuned suspension? What a great idea! Now we can drive recklessly with our kids on board. Sure, sure, we'll maintain control of the man-van, but at the increased speeds we're very likely to crash into other drivers who don't expect a van to handle like that and get in their way.

A new engine? What kind of new engine? A namby-pamby multi-fuel, green engine? Not very manly. How about a 5.0 Liter V-8 that doesn't give a shit about fuel economy? That is mil-spec multi-fuel, able to run on any flammable liquid, like the venerable M35 2 1/2 truck?

Upgraded interiors? I notice you also have a fake hood scoop in the promo pics. What's next? Racing Stripes? Slapping cosmetic features on a car doesn't make it manlier. Even those fake, trailer-hitch testicles you see on so many trucks doesn't make them macho-er. .

You want to truly make a "man van"? Start by bringing back AWD to the Grand Caravan. And add an extra 6" of ground clearance, and oversized tires, so men can drive the family off road on camping trips. Put on a front crash bumper and light brush guard covers, so when we are whipping through the underbrush, damage is minimal. Put on a full sized spare tire, and bring back the roof rack, but make it sturdy enough to hold a couple of deer carcasses, or for us to stand on to shoot at aforementioned deer. Front and rear winches for pulling the wife's sissy-van out of the snow. Diamond plate floor board for the driver- because when we take our van offroad we're going to get mud and snow on our boots. A second fuel tank, so we can make those treks into the wilderness where there are no gas stations, and make it back. Carbon fiber seat backs on the Stow N Go seats, so when we fold them flat we can throw lumber, tools, etc. in without worrying about damaging the interior. Full-sized (ass opposed to kid-sized) rear seats so I can haul my buddies to wrasslin', football and other manly events.

Basically, you need to make the "Dodge" on the front of the man-van not be the maker's name, but a warning to anyone foolish enough to step out in front of it.

That's how you make a man-van. Not that you guys would know. You and your designers probably all drive luxo-barges or pocket racers. You wouldn't know function if it bit you on your girly asses. You want to design a man-van? Get some real dads involved. Make something that even Mike Rowe wouldn't dare compare to his beloved Ford pickups.

I recently bought a 2005 Grand Caravan. I chose it over an SUV not because I'm some emasculated sissy, but because it had room for the kids and the home improvement supplies I regularly buy. A truck couldn't do the job my Grand Caravan does. An SUV would spend way too much fuel, and lack the sheer volume of internal space. Yes, I miss the truck and SUV's offroad capabilities, but it's a sacrifice I was willing to make for my kids.

Still think your man-van is so good? Prove me wrong- let me get my hands on one for one week of normal dad life. I'll put it through it's paces and show you just how ignorant your design is. Then you can go back to the drawing board and make something that is truly worthy of the name DODGE.

Man Van, or Ham Van?

2011-02-08T19:32:00.000-05:00

Wow, what timing. I was JUST lamenting the chickification of the minivan- that totally unfair stereotype that minivans are feminine. Chrysler wasn't listening- instead they are perpetuating the myth with a stupid-ass "Man Van".

It's a special Dodge Grand Caravan with "man" features. Like racing stripes. A lowered chassis. Over sized, chrome wheels. A black interior with red stitching. Performance suspension and a ginormous sound system.

Man Van? More like Ghetto-Man Van.

What the Hell? Why do car manufacturers think man=race car? On the contrary- all I see driving sports cars are little malnourished, pantywaist metrosexuals, who think squeeling tires = macho. It doesn't. I don't care how fast your car, how much nitrous or chrome you add to it. You little punks are still asking for an ass-whoopin'. One you will surely get because you spent too much time eating Doritos and Mountain Dew instead of bulking up on meat, cheese and potatos. As a result, you have the physique of a girl. Which explains all the hair care products and body perfume.

A Man's Van would have a trailer hitch. An extra 6" of ground clearance. AWD. Rally lights. A spare, full-sized tire on the rear hatch. Front and rear winches. Diamond plate floorboard for the driver. Brush Guards. A dual gas tank, for extended operation in the wild.

A Man Van wouldn't rely on faux race car looks. It'd back it's manliness with horsepower and unbridled ruggedness. "Dodge" wouldn't be the name of the manufacturer- it'd be a warning to anyone even thinking of stepping out in front of it. Mike Rowe would consider driving one to his next Dirty Job.

A Man Van would have full sized rear seats too. So you could haul your screaming kids to football practice, or your best buds to the super bowl. The Roof would have a protective coating so that when you actually used the upper roof rack you didn't have to worry about scratching paint.

Stow N Go seating? How about with carbon fiber backs so you could throw lumber, deer carcasses or your favorite tools in the back with no worry about knicks or scratches.

Finally, a Man Van would be multi fuel. Not Hybrid multifuel. No, Deuce-and-a-half, M35, Mil-spec multifuel. Where you could burn gas, diesel, cooking oil, jet fuel, or any flammable liquid that would fit in the tank. This wouldn't be to combat gasoline prices or save the ecosystem. It'd be to get you anywhere and back, gas stations or not.

Chrysler thinks racing stripes are manly. The only stripes they really know are the yellow ones on their backs. Because they're too chicken to make a real man's ride.

TOOLS OF FATHERHOOD: The Mallet

2011-02-02T16:23:00.001-05:00

When I was growing up, the way to fix things was to strike them. TV not picking up a channel? Whack it on the side. Post in the yard crooked? Whack it. Dog keeps peeing on the carpet? Whack it. Hitting things is the American first line of repair. And when you're a dad, you're expected to fix a lot of things. Not because you want to DIY, but because everyone who isn't a dad will want to DDI- Dad'll Do It. That means you need tools. My personal favorite is the Leatherman WAVE Multi-tool. But don't overlook the whacking tools. They're very handy. And there is one whacking tool many a dad may have overlooked.

The Mallet.

Now, don't get me wrong- claw hammer's are great when you're doing some carpentry. Ballpeen hammers are great for gear heads. Sledgehammers are great for busting bricks or driving posts. But the reality for those of us that aren't in the trades is that we're going to be hitting things that are far less durable than a claw hammer. Things made of plastic or wood.

That's where the Mallet, or more specifically, the rubber mallet comes in handy.

Imagine you're a new dad and you're putting together the baby's pre-fabricated crib. You screw this and that, but at some point you're going to need to tap some wooden pegs in place. Use a trusty metal claw hammer if you must, but don't be surprised when you miss with one swing and put a huge gash in the finish. If you can't turn the crib so that gash is against the back wall, you're going to catch nine kinds of hell from the missus- who is out of her damned mind anyways with all those pregnancy hormones.

Fast forward to little Johnny's first camping trip. You're driving tent stakes into the ground. You beat the hell out of them with a claw hammer- because claw hammers are the everyman of hammers. The tent stakes are going to look like Fido got ahold of them.

When Little Johnny starts getting school pictures, the wife is going to start demanding that you put up frames. Sure, sure, you could use a claw hammer to drive nails into the drywall. But again, miss, and you've got a hell of a dent. Worse, when it's a billion degrees in the house, and you've ben holding that frame up so she can stand on the other side of the room to see if she likes it there, your arms are going to get tired. Sweat+fatigue=butterfingers. A claw hammer is going to hurt your feet way more than a nice rubber mallet.

What about when you slip on the ice loading the van for that trip to the in-laws, and you put a small dent in the hood? With a rubber mallet, you can pop that sucker out and the wife will never know.

Mallets are awesome.

Look at the name: M-A-L-L-E-T. It's like a cross between MALE and WALLET. "Male" means man, and wallets are of course the more masculine, pocket-sized versions of purses. Every man needs to own a mallet.

Some of you may want to point out that the way to prevent denting with a claw hammer is to put a piece of wood between the hammer and the object you're striking. Pashaw, I say! The right tool for the job is ALWAYS the better way to go. Claw hammers are for nails. Not building furniture, popping dents or camping!

The next time you're out shopping for tools, grab a mallet. They're pretty cheap- I got mine at Target for $1. That's a lot of banging for a buck.

LET THERE BE LIGHT!

2011-01-27T11:07:00.001-05:00

Whether you believe man climbed down out of the trees and traded poop slinging for insults, or accept Adam and Eve's eviction from Eden, one thing you have agree with is that early man relied on Fire. It's a wonderful tool. It provides us heat. It cooks our food. We can make tools with it. We can keep wild animals at bay. And it gives us a sense of security by driving away the darkness.

In our modern homes, fire has been replaced with electric light. It's something most of us- including our kids- take for granted. But what happens when the lights go out? Imagine being in your windowsless dadcave and the power goes out due to a storm or some drunk driver hitting a utility pole. The first thing you might think is "now I can't watch the rest of the game!". But your kids are going to have a more immediate concern. IT'S DARK!

When there's an emergency, you've got a lot of options on how to provide this simple luxury item your kids can't do without out. Modern light comes from four main sources: The Sun (through your windows), from Fire, from Electricity, or from chemical sources. How many of these have you thought about, or prepared with?

Power outages by day aren't so bad. You just leave the darkened dadcave and open the curtains or blinds through out the house. If it's cold, you grab a blanket. If it's hot you open a window. But when it's night time, or maybe during a thunderstorm or other overcast weather, you have to bust out some lumination assistance.

Fire is great if you have a fireplace, unless it's a really hot summer. If not, you might resort to candles. The technology's been around for thousands of years. A more modern twist on the candle you might choose is the kerosene lantern. But these all have some major safety issues- especially when mixed with pets or children. Take kerosene- how many western movies feature a lantern being broken by sabotage or negligence, thereby consuming barns full of straw? Candles can be tipped over by curious children. If you can, keep the fire outside. There are much safer alternatives.

And what about ignition sources? How many non-smokers keep matches or lighters ready for all those tea candles the wife bought from co-workers' candle parties? Even if you don't prescribe to candling, it's a great idea to keep a simple Bic-type disposable lighter in the house. It can be submerged under water, allowed to dry, and it'll still work. Just make sure the kids can't get to it.

Maybe fire isn't for you. The power might be off in your home, but that doesn't mean electricity can't come to your aid. Flashlights are the darkness-battling weapon of choice in modern America. But flashlights require batteries in most cases. And where is the flashlight? Do you remember that in a pinch? You could keep a flashlight in every room of the house, in a universal location- say, the left hand side of whatever drawer you put it in.

There's also the bulb issue. Kids drop stuff, and a dropped incandescent bulb, even a super-bright krypton bulb, will break on impact. LED is much better. Resists impacts and uses far less electricity. And many LED flashlights are capable of changing color, or switching to a blinking mode. USeful for emergencies, or just amusing the kids.

Battery powered flashlights are so old-school, though. Instead of raiding the remote controls in an emergency to find batteries, today you can turn to crank-powered and even solar-powered flashlights . Crank lights are great for kids, who always forget to turn flashlights off anyway. Not only can your neanderkid have their own source of light, they can be amused for some time cranking and cranking on it every couple of minutes to recharge. Just make sure you get enough crank lights for all the kids, and that you make sure they put them back where they belong. Like hanging from a wriststrap on a wall hook or door knob.

Flashlights are swell, until you have to go potty. For us dads, we need our hands for other than lght holding. It's instances like that where an electric lantern is a life saver. And unlike flashlights, you only need one for the family. It can light up a room, is free-standing and there's simply no need for each kid to have their own. Although you can get AA powered lanterns for under $10 so each kiddo can carry light around with them. And, like flashlights, there are now crank-powered lanterns. Many have built in radios and ports for charging cell phones.

Finally, there's one truly awesome light source that I highly recommend for emergencies. Cyalumes, or "glowsticks". These simple plastic tubes, filled with chemicals separated by a glass ampule, create a whole night's worth of cold light, simply by bending (breaking the ampule inside) and shaking (mixing the chemicals up). They can light up a room fairly well, with no fire hazard. Most even have hooks which fit quite nicely on ceiling fan pull cords. Or you can put them on string and make each of the kids their very own glow necklace. Put one in a jar or glass and now you've got a table top glow lantern. They work under water. They come in different colors. They also range in price from cheap up to as much as $4 a stick. Every camping section carries them.

And don't forget that glowsticks come in different shapes and sizes. I prefer the 6" camping kind. They can be kept in drawers and are often found in first aid kits. You can also find glowstick bracelets and necklaces that are designed to be kid friendly. Our local Target sells tubes of bracelets- fifteen for $1. Not much light to read or pee by, but the kids love the novelty of them.

Glowsticks do have some safety concerns though. For one, if you let your neanderkid bend it back and forth, over and over, it won't get brighter. In fact, the plastic will crack and spray glowing liquid out. Sometimes into your kid's eyes. As long as no glass gets in, it isn't very serious. Maybe just a trip to the hospital E.R. to have the eye flushed. And the expelled glowstick liquid fades to invisibility on carpet and curtains after just a few days.

Glowsticks are also temperature sensitive. Leave one in the hot glovebox of your car and the plastic starts to break down. So that when you go to bend and crack one to life, it bursts open and sprays glowing chemicals all over the carpet. Better to keep your glowsticks in a cool, dark place. In fact, once activated, you can put them in the freezer to extend their life span an extra day or two.

There are other emergency light sources you can have around the dadcave and house. Expensive battery packs or battery powered emergency lighting. Flashlights that stay plugged into the wall until needed. Just remember that anything fancy is going to get broken once your kids get their hands on them. Stick to the cheap glowsticks and crank lights and you'll stay out of the darkness.

DON'T COME A KNOCKIN' MY ROCKIN' MINIVAN

2011-01-18T15:57:00.000-05:00

After ten years of arguing, I finally convinced the wife that we should get a minivan. Actually, I gave up on one and wanted an SUV. She decided we'd have more room for our two kids and her parents, in the minivan.

I have to say, the minivan is pretty spectacular.

First off, we wisely chose not to pay depreciation- we got a 2005 van from Carmax, with their super-duper guarantee. Which means that for less than a new van, we got something that was fully loaded in 2005. Leather, heated seats, and ALL the extras. Yeah, it has a few miles, but with kids we put about 5000 miles a year on our vehicles. Used will last us quite a while.

But as much as I'm enjoying the minivan, with all that increased interior cargo space and old man-comfort, I have to take issue with something. The minivan's image. Even my wife remarked how a minivan is a woman's vehicle. Say what?!

Okay, for the record, my dream vehicle is a jacked up, AWD minivan with roll bars, off-road rally lights and all the luxuries. I want to be able to go anywhere, in Cadillac luxury. With plenty of room to spare. Our current ride falls a tad short of these goals: It's FWD, but does have traction control. No rally lights, but it has some tremendously bright fog lights. I realize in a roll over it wouldn't fare so well, but to be honest, I drive like a grandpa, so I don't envision any rollovers in the immediate future.

In looking online, I see there's lotsa hatin' goin' on for minivans. I can see where Jimbob Singlepants might prefer a 4x4 truck to haul carcasses around in the hunting season, but I don't have that need. Nor am I going through middle-age anxiety and need a car capable of being driven four times as fast as the legal speed limit. Nope, I'm a dad. I have two girls, a wife and a dog. I need more room than a truck can offer.

In my online research to determine the origins of minivan hate, I looked at a bunch of sites online. One, Why Minivans Suck sums it up in several ridiculous points:

1. They're too big

2. They're too big for drivers stuck behind them

3. They're full of screaming kids

4. The people who drive them have no business driving something that "big"

First off, when is big unmanly? And when do women EVER want to be considered big?

Should I care people behind me can't see? They can't see past tractor trailers either. Are they going to follow a big rig to a truckstop and tell the tobacky chawin' driver he's driving something better suited for soccer moms?

"Full" of screaming kids? Hey, it's a van, it can hold, volume-wise, way more than it has seats. My 91 Toyota Camry, that was "full" of screaming kids. Nowhere for the sound to go but in my ears where it began liquifying my brain. Thank God for the internal capacity of the minivan so I have some room for those bouncing banshee soundwaves.

There are loads of drivers on the road that shouldn't be. I don't think it matters one bit whether they're on a Japanese crotchrocket motorcycle, in a middle age super car or a big honkin' 4x4 with huge mudders. Most people don't buy their vehicle based on need. At least, not until they become a parent. Then it's budget first, need second.

Minivans are not HUGE. They're mini. Duh. The vans of the 70s, like the Ford Econoline- those were huge vans. Minivans are much smaller and easier to operate, what with the 12 windows and oversized rear view mirrors. And who could possibly not see you in a minivan? No danger of being rear-ended.

Yes, Minivans do help moms. In our modern Mom-does-it-all-Dad's-a-boob society, the minivan could help with child and household chores. Like soccer practice and grocery shopping. But they do more. Much more.

When was the last time a mom ran down to Home Depot to buy a sheet of drywall to repair that hole in the wall caused by the rowdy kids? That's dad's job. And a sheet of 4 x 8 drywall fits in the back of a minivan much easier than the pick up truck, or Crown Victoria. And it stays dry.

What about the drive in? Surely dads go to that as well. Why take dad's truck, forcing the kids to ride (illegally) in the bed, when you can take the DVD entertainment system-on-wheels?

But the real decider for why minivans aren't just for mom goes back to the size. The internal size. Most moms are smaller than dads. Yet minivans can accomodate folks up to 6'4" tall. They have plenty of shoulder and elbow room. More than in any SUV I've ever ridden in (except maybe a Suburban). Why would a tiny mom need all that room?

Stow N Go seating? Why, throw in a tarp and I could put JimBob's deer carcass right in the back. Hopefully it will actually be dead when I do so.

Minivan's can accept trailer hitches. When was the last time you saw a mom launching a small boat for some fishing with the soccer team?

Do mom's need all those internal 12V adapters? My van has five! three up front! I know kids want to charge their Nintendo DS' on the go, but clearly gadgets fall much more in the dad domain, and my minivan expects the driver to have two gadgets just for him/herself.

Minivans aren't just for chicks. They're for families. They meet a need for space, luxury and utility quite nicely. And unless Mary Kay gives one out as a sales prize, I don't expect to be seeing any pink minivans anytime soon.

TO THE DADCAVE, LET'S GO!

2011-01-06T13:47:00.001-05:00

Whether you're a new dad, or a dad starting out the new year, it's time to think about yourself. Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween before the New Year were all about the kids. But they're over. Now you've got a few quiet months with hopefully no yard work and some time to actually relax.

Do you have somewhere to do that?

Every dad needs a special place they can retreat to and unwind from the stress of work and parenting. Lately though, I'm seeing a lack of respect for dad. There's even a new show on one of the DIY channels that mocks Mancaves in favor of family rooms.

That's just preposterous.

Dads, we need our own place. We need a Dad Cave. A place we can call our own, do our own thing, but still be close enough by to help out when needed.

What makes the best dadcave? A basement. It's soundproofed, is easier to heat and cool due to it's semi-subterranean nature, and is fairly storm resistant- so all the cool crap you jam into it for your fatherly entertainment is sure to stay safe and sound.

Oh sure, you could opt for a Fortress of Solitude- an unattached garage- to spend your time in. It worked for Superman, right? Alas, while garages boast lots of cool tools and a sheltered place to work on the car, mower, etc., they lack the creature comforts of a basement. And a bathroom. And let's face it, in winter, you don't want to have to trudge even 20 feet out in the snow to go sit on the throne.

What about a den or library? These above ground retreats may have worked well for the Atomic Dad of the 1950s and 60s, but being above ground, it's easier access for the missus and pretty much guarantees frequent inspections, calls for cleaning and maybe even decorating from her. Best to sequester yourself below the surface where wives fear to tread.

But the best argument for a basement retreat? Batman has one.

Seriously, who is cooler than Batman? He's a billionaire playboy, with a batload of awesome gadgets, cars, motorcycles, boat and planes. He's a dad- albeit a single, adoptive one. He fights crime with no super powers. And unlike some armored, high tech playboys, he's not a drunk. Batman rules. Clearly, he is the coolest dad ever. Just ask Robin.

So now that you've seen the light and are ready to get rid of some of those boxes of crap the wife will never use again, claim a corner of the basement and start tricking out your very own dadcave. As you plan, keep a few things in mind:

BIGGER ISN'T BETTER. My pal recently built a new house and engineered this ginormous basement. I know he married a daughter of the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe, and has several dozen family over every weekend- thereby necessitating a large family room- but this works against him on those rare occasions it's just him and his own horde of wife and kids.

You can't get any private time in a vast cavern. A smaller space is easier to regulate temperature and doesn't invite people to come in and rain on your underground parade. You don't have a batmobile, -boat, -plane or a crime fighting lab, so you don't really need all that square footage. Just something big enough for a pool table, a dry bar and four or five of your closest pals to gather around the big screen TV.

IF THEY CAN REACH IT, IT WILL BREAK. Now that you have your own special room, you're likely tempted to start stocking it with all the cool crap your wife made you box up and put in the attic. Like old trophies, matchbox cars, or your childhood GI Joes. Bear in mind though that your neanderkids will come into the dadcave- especially when you're not home. If they can reach any of your prized possessions, they will touch, and more than likely, break them. Keep the valuable stuff up high.

IF IT CAN BE STAINED, IT WILL BE. Whether it's your kids, or your buddies after a few beers, there will be spills in the dadcave. If you don't mind stains, go ahead and put in white carpet and get a comfy cloth recliner. If you want to not have to spend more time and effort than a shop vac requires to operate, go for leather furniture and dark carpets or tiled floors. I prefer the dark, indoor/outdoor carpet, as it helps absorb sound when the kids won't shut up while I'm watching TV.

CREATURES WANT COMFORT. If you get your way, you're going to be spending a lot of time in the dadcave. So you want to be comfortable. Archie Bunker, Al Bundy, Homer Simpson- they all understood the need for somewhere comfortable to sit. Even if the power goes out, squirrels gnaw through the cable lines or a low flying plane knocks out your satellite, you've still got somewhere to sit. Preferably a recliner, so you can sleep there too. I also recommend a blanket and small pillow within arm's reach in case you just decide to take an extended winter's nap.

THE ELECTRONIC WINDOW SEES ALL. Captain Kirk didn't sit in front of a window on the Enterprise. Batman doesn't read telegrams from around Gotham. You need a TV to stay in touch with, or retreat from, the world. Preferably one connected to cable or satellite, the internet and a gaming system of some kind. Before you pump a lot of money into a TV big enough to serve as a dining room table, bear in mind you also need surround sound (to drown out the wife and kids) and a DVD or Bluray for those cable/satellite outage periods. And you don't need a humongous TV. Sit a little closer to that 42" TV and it looks bigger.

A DAD TRAVELS ON HIS STOMACH. Why walk up the stairs to get food when you could have a micro kitchen next to the TV? A simple dry bar with microwave, dorm refrigerator and even a George Foreman grill allows you to maintain a stockpile of food and drinks within arm's reach. And forget putting in a sink. That means plumbing, and plumbing means leaks. Paper plates and plastic cups and utensils work fine at picnics and will do just as well in your basement. Trust me- the first time you can grill burgers while watching the big game, you'll never want to go outside again.

SHELVES ARE MADE OF WOOD. All that cool electronics and creature comforts are going to get expensive. So you need to save where you can. Sure, sure, you could go buy some fancy book cases made of intricately-bent wire and tube steel, but really, why bother? Just run down to the local home-supply store and buy a minivan-full of 1x8s and some wood screws. Throw in a drill and saw, and in no time you'll have custom-fitted shelves for little to no expense. They may not look as nice as the wife's coordinated living room suite, but once you stack all your trinkets, movies and games on them, they'll look just fine.

CAVES ARE DARK FOR A REASON. If you were performing surgeries, or constructing intricate electronic components, lots of light might be helpful in the dadcave. But you're going to be sitting back, relaxing and watching the boob tube. It makes its own light. Don't go overboard with track lighting and reading lights and all that girly nonsense. Throw in a couple of lights with the switch near your recliner (or install a remote control) and you're gold. All you need to be able to see is where you put the remotes.

THEY'RE CALLED "OUTHOUSES" FOR A REASON. Yes, it might seem like a good idea to have one of Thomas Crapper's flushing toilets nearby, but is it really? Do want to do your business, then have to sit in the smell of it while watching TV? Far better to leave the dadcave, go upstairs and do your dirty deeds elsewhere. And imagine if you have the guys over. Do you really want to smell what you fed them? Keep the bathroom as far from the dadcave as possible. Preferably on another floor. Plus, then your wife will clean it.

TWO CAVES ARE BETTER THAN ONE. Once your dadcave is finished, it will be the coolest damn place in your home- at least to you and the neanderkids. Are you really ready to share and watch your manly retreat turn into a romper room littered with Barbie shoes and lego bricks? The best way to keep the dadcave yours is to build an adjoining playroom. Kids aren't so demanding, either. They don't need surround sound, and don't appreciate picture quality. Outfitting them with an older or smaller TV will often do the trick. Throw in your old Playstation 2 as combination DVD player/gaming system, and they're set. Put up a couple of dry erase boards on the walls, and the kids can do cave art to their hearts' content. But best of all, give the kids permission to make the playroom as messy as they want. Then when they leave their toys in the dadcave, you can fling them over to the playroom and the kids will never notice.

There you have it. The basics of good dadcave design. You can add more, or fancy it up if you must, but these are the minimum enhancements for an enjoyable winter hibernation.

Troglo 'View: George Foreman in My Basement

2011-01-03T09:16:00.001-05:00

The Dadcave is a place where all dads can go and relax, yet still be available for the family. It's a secluded place with a comfortable chair, a big TV, snacks and a refrigerator for cold drinks. But what about some freshly-cooked meat? Do you really want to go outside to the charcoal grill, then back inside to watch your favorite show or sports event? Why not grill WHILE you watch TV?

That was my thought, so I purchased a George Foreman, 60 sq. inch, Lean Mean Grilling Machine. I got mine on sale at Target for $24.

Let's face it, Cheeseburgers are the ultimate man's food. No utensils are needed to eat them. They have bread, meat, cheese, and if you swing that way, veggies. It's all four food groups (meat, dairy, grains and plants) all in one compact package. And this electric grill proclaims to cook them with ease.

For me, charcoal is the only way to cook a burger. I like the burnt flavor of the wood, the singed, crispy outer shell of beef and the ability to lay my cheese on and start it melting before removal from the grill. George Foreman on the otherhand, is all about healthy eating, and draining off the liuid fat trapped inside burgers.

In 5 minutes, my 4 burgers came out reasonably well. Albeit a little less tasty than off the old Smokey Joe Weber Grill I keep outside. The fat had indeed been liquified and drained off the burgers. Something that didn't taste so good, but which dead mean I ended up with a clean shirt and recliner when I was done eating. And as an experiment, I overcooked a couple of burgers by one minute and was able to reasonably simulate the crispy, burnt outershell I like from from charcoaled burgers.

An added benefit of the grill was the delicious aroma in the dadcave. Forget that girly potpourri crap the wives always want to stink the house up with. My dadcave now smells like burgers. Mmmmmm.

Alas, George Foreman's grill is a bit messy afterwards. My dadcave sports a drybar- no sink for cleaning anything. So I'm going to have to carry the grill upstairs to clean it. But that can easily wait until the next day. My bar's big enough I can leave the grill out when done cooking, and still have room for bowls of chips, cups, or whatever food I need for my relaxtion.

Overall? It's no substitute for fire from charcoal, but the ease of use and convenience of grilling in the same room you relax in makes this a VERY worthwhile purchase. Cave-tested and Dad approved.

I'm working with a bunch of kids!

2010-12-31T11:30:00.001-05:00

Who the f*&k steals water?

You put a bottle of water in the communal fridge at work, you shouldn't have to put your name on it... but I guess I should have. Cause when I went back 24 hours later to get me a nice, chilled bottle of water, it was gone. This is doubly perplexing seeing as how we have a water fountain on our floor.

It's like being at home.

I'm sure it's happen to many a dad. You have those special orange-creme sodas stashed in the back of the fridge, waiting for them to get near-iced. And then the damn kids drink them without telling you. Or maybe it's that pack of oreos you hid by the recliner to munch on during the latest episode of "The Walking Dead". How are you supposed to enjoy a good zombie show without snacks?

I need a locking lunch box. Something with a frickin' padlock on it. THEN I could be assured to get the last of the Pringles Cheezums, or that last bag of beef jerky. Or my damn bottle of water.

Anybody make one?

Christmas: It Ain't Over When the Fatman Brings

2010-12-28T09:55:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are, December 28th, and people are ripping down their Christmas decorations in anticipation of the coming weekend of alcoholism. Gone is any shred of goodwill as people put away all the crap they got and lament credit card bills from their Ho Ho spending sprees.

People, Christmas isn't over. It's just begun.

First off, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ. Sure, sure, some Roman picked a date that was near to the Winter Solstice so the pagans could still party on. But Christmas still retains "Christ" in the name, so let's not forget the true origin. The whole reason for all of this is Jesus was born. I'm not going to preach to you though. I'm going to point out that the Three Wisemen didn't cross the desert, show up hours after the birth, drop a bunch of presents then say "happy birthday, kid. See you around" then leave. They stuck around.

Ever hear of the twelve days of Christmas? Assuming December 25th to be day #1, we're really only on Day 4. We have 8 more days to go! Let's continue to be festive and cheerful. Let's keep those decorations up. Let's play with the gifts our loved ones worked so hard to get us. Let's be nice to one another.

Who cares one year is ending and another is beginning? It's just numbers on a calendar. What really changes? Fishing licences expire one year after issue, not on December 31st. The plates on my car expire in a month corresponding with the first letter of my last name, not December 31st. The TV season continues for another couple of months.

Why such a fuss over "New Year"? Christmas is way more important. For one, Christ was born, allowing us all to be saved, if we choose. That's awesome. For another- going back to the solstice- our days are getting longer now. Also awesome. We have new stuff. Non-Christians are huge on "stuff". Enjoy your new stuff. If you got a netbook or iPad for Christmas, you're still enjoying it FOUR days later, right? And how many of us are still munching on leftovers and extra cookies? How many schoolkids are still on Christmas break? Mine sure are.

The party is not over. Let's keep the wisemen around another week. Let's all be reformed Scrooges and keep the holiday in our hearts for at least another week.

When you really think about it, now is when we truly get to enjoy Christmas. The pre-season stress is all gone. The decorations are already up. The cooking is over with. No presents to scramble and fight over. No wrapping to do. With the shopping over, no more fighting for parking spaces or crowded streets. I bet most of you even have your returns done.

Those of us with kids know that birthday parties are a major headache. But afterwards, the kids all run around and play and we can sit back and relax, our mission accomplished. That's how we should treat Christmas too. The hard stuff is over and now it's time to just relax and remember what the holiday is really about.

Merry Christmas!

Troglo 'view: Call of Duty- Black Ops (Xbox 360)

2010-11-10T09:12:00.001-05:00

NOTE: This is a review by a casual gamer over 40. It's not intended for boosters, glitchers, cheaters or those 16 and under.

Once again, people have managed to screw up what could otherwise be a passable game.

For the purposes of this review, I'm going to make comparisons to the best three 'shooters I've played on Xbox; Rainbow Six Vegas 2 (R6V2), Battlefield Bad Company 2 (BC2) and the Ghost Recon Advanced Warfares 1& 2 (GRAW). In my opinion these three games contain all the elements to make the perfect shooter, just not in one game. Further, this review is based on about 4 hours of game play.

COD BO is the sequel to Call of Duty: World at War (COD WAW). As such, I expected it to be similar, but improved from COD WAW. Alas, that's not necessarily the case.

Single player does appear to have better graphics, but the gameplay is remarkably similar. There's that frantic fast pace where you run along and shoot while being shot at. You can't really plan your mission as in R6V2 or GRAW, you're stuck following a timeline the game designers have envisioned. The first level was pretty much a rail shooter for me.

Zombie mode lets you jump right in, instead of playing through the whole campaign first. The first map is Kino Der Untoten (Cinema of the Dead), a bombed out German theater that appears to have been rotting away for 20 years after WWII. Player one, instead of being TanK Dempsey, is now Dr. Nazi, or whatever his name is. It plays pretty much like the old Nazi Zombie levels. I didn't get far in my attempts as none of the strangers I talked to wanted to communicate. They miss the fact this is a tactical game, and not just a shooting alley.

Multiplayer Training was a nice addition to the game. It's like R6V2's terrorist hunt, in that it pits you, and co-op players if you wish, against AI-controlled opponents in a mimicry of online gaming. A really neat feature is the game randomly selects names from your own friends list for the AI opponents. So you get to grease your friends without them being there.

The annoying part about training mode was that the experience I earned didn't carry over to my Multiplayer online scores. All those weapons I unlocked remained locked when I did switch to multiplayer. That's crap. R6V2 offered a great system where campaign play and terrorist hunt earned you experience to unlock weapons to use in online play. This levelled the playing field for those of us who don't boost, and can only play a game a few hours a week- cause we have jobs 'n' such.

Which brings me to multiplayer. I hated it.

The early interviews for COD BO sure made it sound like you'd be able to buy this and that, that you could earn experience off line, etc. etc. All lies. I played the game less than 24 hours after it was released, and already there were players ranked up to level 19 or higher. That means that they had far superior weapons than me. Which means I was getting slaughtered. Not much fun.

Worse, the game was touted as having a customization feature- you could design your own logo, customize your weapons, and even change your face paint and camo. Once you've reached a high enough level.

See, you earn experience in the game to reach ranks, and you earn COD points- kind of like MS points, that are used to buy weapons, attachments, perks, etc. once you've unlocked them by reaching a specific rank. As for your custom icons... well again, the premade images you can recolor, resize, etc. have to be unlocked and purchased. You can't even think of customizing your logo/icon until reaching rank level 10 in the game. Something that can be done in about 4 hours of continuous, stubborn, get-killed-repeatedly game play.

Customizable? My ass. R6V2 was customizable. Yes, you had to unlock things, but you could mix and match pants and shirts, carry different weapons and even change your face. In COD BO, you have a uniform choice, and when you've played long enough you can pick from pre-set face paints. Wow. That's really customizable.

What about MP game modes? Well, those are locked out as well. You start with just two: Deathmatch and team deathmatch, both of which I despise. I like objective-based gaming, like BC2's Conquest mode. Or R6V2's Terrorist Hunt, where the enemies stay down and don't respawn.

After a few rank ups, you do get some extra MP modes. I prefer Domination so far- it's just like BC2's Conquest.

But what about gameplay?

Well, in MP, there are some problems. Lag is one big problem. As is weapon damage. Many times I'd score multiple hits on an opponent but they kept on coming. And why is it a knife can take you out with one slash, but a tri-burst from an M-16 can't? Stupid.

Then there are the cheaters. I only saw a couple possible lag switchers, but glitchers and boosters were prevalent. I refuse to believe anyone could honestly rank up to level 19 in under 24 hours of play. And how on earth did that one guy figure out how to reach a ledge that shouldn't be reachable?

COD BO does have one advantage over BC2- you can go prone. Unfortunately, most of the game you see people doing Greastest American Hero impersonations- leaping and going prone, like they're trying to take off and fly. Why the game limits your sprinting, but not your jumping is beyond me.

Overall, the COD BO MP experience seemed identical to COD WAW's. Same graphics, same mechanics, same frustrations. I really see no improvement here, other than slightly more modern weaponry. Maybe there are better game modes I haven't unlocked yet?

Nitpicks?

I have several, but will undoubtably uncover more as I unlock the ranks in this. Assuming I keep this game that long. First, Vietnam-era M-16s (the game is set in the 1960s and 1970s, even though the Cold War officially ended in the 1990s), did not fire tribursts. They were single or full auto. I carried a Nam-era M-16 when I was stationed in Germany, 1990-1992. The M-16A1 also was single/full auto, but added a forward assist. The M-16A2, had the forward assist and the tri-burst or single.

Then there's the Enfield. The first assault rifle you unlock as you rank up. It does full auto, but does more damage than the M-16. Which is funny, considered both weapons use the exact same round, the NATO 5.56mm, and even the same magazines.

As for weapon attachments, I found it odd that the only zoomable scope for the M-16 was a nightvision scope. I would think you could put a 12x scope on an M-16 if you really wanted to, yet it isn't an option in the game.

What is Black Ops missing?

Better initial weapons. Why not give low ranks weapons they do great damage, but have low ammo, or maybe aren't accurate at a distance? Why give them spitball guns? How on Earth can I rank up firing a musket at people with ray guns?

More customizable player models. Wow. I can pick what camo I wear, but not hat, goggles.. oh, hell- I'll just say it. It's nothing like R6V2. Anybody who claims to be customizable needs to look hard at R6V2. THAT was customizable.

Destructible enviroments. I love in BC2 I can breach the side of a building with some C4 or an M203. I love shooting down trees that obscure my vision. What I don't love is running around an indestructible maze like I'm playing Lazer Tag or paintball. To be fair, there are barrels, windows and parked cars you can blow up/destroy, but it's just not the same. I want to level a building.

Closing doors. Oh, God, the doors. Why taunt me with a door I can't open or close? R6V2 had doors you could open or close. Which was great for alerting you to someone coming up behind you. You could hear them coming.

Driveable vehicles in the game. They made such a big damn deal about the Jeep Wrangler being in the game. Oh, it's in there- parked. You can hide behind it, or blow it up, but that's about it. It might as well be on a billboard, like R6V2's in-game advertising. Not to mention that 4-door Jeeps are a fiarly recent addition to the Jeep lineup, and not a staple of the Cold War.

Final Decision Time

So, do you buy or rent this? Is it Call of Duty: Blagh Ops, or Call of Doody: Brown Oops?

You have to remember this game has the Nazi zombies. A superb game mode. Not $65 superb, but lots of fun. I would much rather have seen Treyarch just release new levels with new weapons for COD WAW, then make me buy a whole new game that doesn't recognize my prior COD gaming (Battlefield players are rewarded veteran status for previous incarnations of the game played).

I only play a few hours friday and saturday. I don't have time to rank up like the kids that don't work. BC2 solved that problem like driving games do- they let you buy the weapons other folks boost to unlock. Sure, sure, that means spending even more money on an already over-priced game. But in BC2's case, it made all the difference and I started actually enjoying the game. More than this stinker.

Bottom line; rent before you buy, unless you have hours and hours of time to rank up.

2010-10-14T18:17:00.004-04:00

THOR'S DAY RANT: Edison Nation Suckz Ballz

First off, let me explain that I'm not making any declarations about Edison Nation or their staff's sexual proclivities. True, they have a large staff of male and females, so the literal here might be true. But I spelled it all ghetto to embrace the current young generation's vernacular: Edison Nation is bad/terrible/worthless.

What is Edison Nation, some might wonder?

It's basically a website that pledges to help inventors bring ideas to fruition. They allegedly make money acting like an agent for inventors. I say they suck at it.

Of course I'm a little bitter at this point. I had this swell product idea a year and a half ago for a product that would help people keep from dropping smart phones, handhelds, etc. I looked on line to see what the hell I could do with such an idea and found the fairly-new Edison Nation. Wow. What timing? I couldn't believe my luck! A fantastic, simple, cheap to manufacture idea falls in my lap, and I immediately find a way to do something with it. I am, afterall, a dad working for local government and don't have the money or power tools to develop, manufacture or hawk any idea on my own.

So I signed up. For $9.25 a month. Oh, and $25 to submit the idea. And I ended up submitting a couple of other unsuccessful ideas.

The way Edison Nation works is that they have "Searches" where they try and find product ideas for prospective clients. They screen entries in various stages, weeding out bad ideas from the rest until they make a final choice for a presentation to the company looking for that next big OxyClean-like product. As Seen on TV (Telebrands) is one of their ongoing clients, launching a "search" every quarter.

I have diligently entered my concept- which included photos of my paperclip and lego protoype- in many, many searches. I've come close- but never seemed to make the small band of good products that get presented.

This is a frustrating process. But losing is something I'm familiar with, so I held on, and kept entering.

Until today.

Someone has beaten me to the market.

Their product is basically a larger, improved version of my design- a loop held on a swivel and then bonded adhesively to the back of a handheld device. Where I envisioned sliding the loop over one finger, they have you slide all four in.

Did they somehow steal my idea? Hell, I don't know. As simple as this idea is, anybody could come up with it. It's also conceivable someone reviewing my idea passed it along. Don't know, don't care.

My beef is that Edison Nation sat on this for over a year, when it was clearly, demonstrably a good idea. And I sure thought I wasn't supposed to submit my idea to anyone else while Edison Nation considered it.

So how do I rate Edison Nation's performance? I give them five kicks to the balls. They suck. Hey, I'm sure someone sold an idea through them, but my super-simple idea sure didn't pan out.

Does that mean they suck? Well, yes- in my opinion. Just like if I think a movie sucks because I didn't partuclarly like it, I'm free to express my opinion. Someone else may think Edison Nation is the greatest thing since sliced bread, or mana.

In my case the only thing that has fallen in my lap is a big old steaming pile of disappointment. And it hit me right in the balls.

2010-09-15T13:58:00.003-04:00

GEEK DAD or MOM?

So I was reading one of my favorite sites recently, Gizmodo.com, and I noticed a link to a review of MACHETE the new mexploitation flick starring Danny Trejo. The link led me to Wired.com's GEEKDAD section.

After I read the article I checked out the comments and was shocked to see a parent talking about how the movie might not be appropriate for the average kids due to the boobage, but that hers were jaded to that kind of thing.

Yeah, HERS. The writer of this GeekDAD article was a chick. Kathy Ceceri, to be exact. In looking over Geek "dad" some more, I found two more chicks regularly contributing: Jenny Williams and Corrina Lawson.

WTF?!

Can men have nothing? It's bad enough modern society has protrayed dads as ignorant boobs barely trustworthy enough to carry the shopping bags of their braless, independant women spouses. But now the byotches want to take away our "Dad" title? First it was actress- a word that isn't used anymore in favor of Actor. Now this. What's next, will we all be "Men" regardless of our posture when urinating?

Hey, Wired, if you're that hard up for men to write your articles, feel free to reprint any of my ramblings. Or, if the chicks are threatening you with lawsuits, give them their own "Geekmom" section. I'd tell you to have the balls to stand up to the feminists in your midst, but I'm guessing that phrase has lost it's meaning to you.

2010-09-15T08:53:00.002-04:00

MARRIAGE IS LIKE STAR WARS...

(NOTE: Star Wars, it's characters, places and things are all copyrighted and trademarked by Lucasfilm and are referenced herein solely for the purpose of discussion and critique. Please don't sue me George!)

So it struck me this morning, being a dad, married... it's all like Star Wars.

I used to be a single guy, trying to make my way in the universe. I had a best friend I paled around with. Then a Princess came into my life. At least she thinks she's a Princess. And like Leia, while she has no royal standing, her parents treated her like one. Sadly though, after this scruffy looking nerf herder got married, the Princess turned into Jabba the Hut. Now, that's not a fat remark or anything. I'm sure most women would say it was a fat joke. No, I'm referring to Jabba's lifestyle. Laying around, watching others, watching TV... not doing a whole helluva lot.

And just try and screw something up. Your wife may not put a price on your head, but it can sure feel that way.

Then there's the droids. Or "kids", if you prefer. I have a tall golden (haired) kid, and a short, noisy kid. And while this man's best friend may walk on four legs instead of two, doesn't speak english, is covered in fur and annoyingly never leaves my side, she's no Chewbacca. If only dogs could be more like Wookies.

And while you may not be shuttling around some old geezer and a teenager from some backwater Rim world, you probably have the inlaws around a lot.

Being a dad is a lot like being Han Solo. A lot is expected of you. From smuggling the kids off to school in less than twelve parsecs, to having old debts to pay off. Sure, as a Dad, you wanted to be a fancy Jedi, but in the end, you're shooting through life in some piece of junk you've heavily modified, sometimes wishing you could switch the kids off like droids, or that Jabba the Wife really would freeze you in carbonite, so you wouldn't have to listen to the griping anymore.

I suppose there are worse characters you could end up as. I just wish I really did have a good blaster by my side.

Fatherhood Survival Tips: Save Your Breath

2010-09-15T07:20:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time, we were all kids. And we often didn't listen to our parents. They griped about it, saying things like "you don't listen, do you?".

Ironically, when we grow up and have kids, they don't listen to us. It's clearly the normal way of the world. Why then do we get so frustrated? Maybe that's normal too.

As a dad you have to learn to save your breath. Take my own encounter this morning with stubborn, ignoring girls:

My oldest (11) does the morning school clothes runway walk, "how does this look, dad?"

It looks 2 sizes too small, I think. Instead, I tell her "that's too small."

"But we JUST bought it! I've never worn ot before!" She whines.

Thus begins a lecture about how she and her mother refuse to buy clothes that fit. Instead they rely on numbers and letters to select clothes. I babble on about how I keep telling them to try clothes on, don't just trust the size label, different clothes are cut diff-

I stop.

"You know, I've told you this multiple times before, and you never listen. Why should I keep telling you. I give up. Wear what you want, but don't complain to me about how your clothes fit, later."

Like when they're too tight, and four hours into school they start getting uncomfortable.

Yeah, that saved my blood pressure. I mean, why tell somebody anything more than twice? If they aren't going to listen, they aren't going to listen. Talking louder only works for the hard of hearing.

Father knows best, but nobody listens. That should be every dad's motto. But there's no since being mad about it- it's a fact of life. Accept it, move on, and have a better day.

Anyone heard of BRINK?

2010-09-13T09:54:00.001-04:00

So my friend emails me this morning and asks me if I've heard of some new FPS for Xbox called BRINK

I draw a complete blank so I visit the wiki page. Then I remember the awful sneak preview on XBL... The promo I can sum up real easily:

A bunch of jamaican free runners killing each other in a junk yard/slum town

I didn't see much rhyme or reason to the game. Just a bunch of Jackie Chan-wannabes running and gunning, jumping sliding, ballerina-ing all over the place. One guy kills one guy, then he gets killed, then his killer gets killed and so on, and so on.

I think the game is intended for 12 year old wannabe sk8tr punks, or something.

If it was a movie, I'd say it was a stinker:

1. It uses a one-word name for the title; e.g. this past saturday's "Mandrake" on Syfy

2. the cover art is art, not a screen cap. Always a good way to hide the pure shittiness of any movie

3. it features parkour/free running, which was innovative, new and relatively unknown... 10 years ago

4. ethnic person on the cover is wearing flip flops and no shirt. GAY

As for being a video game... it's made by Bethesda. Didn't they get their start doing Flight Sims? WTF are they doing making shooters?

But wait, let me nitpick it to death some more:

You will play as a fully customizable character. Custom characters can be created with gear bought with experience points earned by completing objectives.

IE, you sk8tr punks can be as hard-core, gay-ass as you want...

Brink also features Splash Damage's SMART ("Smooth Movement Across Random Terrain") System.

Uh... why the nerdy acronym? Is it because YOGURT (YOur Game is Utterly Rotten Trash)?

The movement style is that of parkour, similar to that as seen in the Mirror's Edge and Assassin's Creed games.

IE, it's a frickin rip off of something someone else has already done. Twice.

While in gameplay, both multiplayer and campaign, the player can bring up a "wheel" of sorts providing various objectives to fulfil.

"A wheel of sorts?" WTF does that mean? Is it a wheel? An oval? A pentagon that rolls bumpily?

The available missions are produced based upon the player's specific position on the map, his relative skill, current progress in the overall mission, and a wide variety of factors.

Meaning "we haven't gotten much done on this shitter yet, because we've been too busy smokin' jamaican weed, free running and skateboarding. But we SWEAR this game will be L33T!"

THOR'S DAY RANT: Burning the Koran would be bad!

2010-09-09T13:22:00.001-04:00

Fire good. Koran bad.

Why mix good with bad?

Fire gives us steaks, burgers, bread, illumination and warmth. Why would we want to taint it with the Koran?

Take crap, for example. Would you want to throw a turd on a perfectly good fire then stand around and inhale the poo fumes? I sure wouldn't want to.

Oh, and yes, I am equating the Koran to crap. Or rather, a load of crap.

See, as I understand it (and I'm sure I'll be corrected if I'm wrong) the Koran was written from 610 to 632 A.D., according to wikipedia. And this was done after this dude Muhammed claimed an angel, "Jibril", met him and told him what to write.

As a Christian, I gots problems with that. Lots of problems. But I think this passage can explain better than me:

Galatians 1:6-12

I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ unto another gospel: Which is not another; but there be some that trouble you, and would pervert the gospel of Christ. But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any [man] preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed. For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ. But I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached of me is not after man. For I neither received it of man, neither was I taught [it], but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.

Now, I'm not denying anyone the right to read the Koran. But if I'm really a Christian, I need to be true to my religion and pronounce Islam as false. I'd be some kind of apologetic hypocrite if I didn't. And even if I think the Muslims are all Hell-destined heathens, I have to respect they stick to their guns and don't wiffle-waffle on their false beliefs.

But just because I think the Koran is a load of crap, I'm not going to ruin a perfectly good fire with one. Nor would I wipe my ass with the Koran. And I wouldn't shoot the Koran into space where impressionable aliens might find it and be converted to Islam. No, the only sane method of disposal I can think of for the Koran is a nuclear furnace. Something that reduces it to it's component atoms. Alas, we don't have one of those, so I guess the Korans should just be left alone for now.

But you do what you want with your Koran- just make sure I'm upwind when you do it.

Chicken Month!

2010-09-01T18:45:00.001-04:00

Holy Chickpeas, Batman! September is National Chicken Month!

Show your clucking pride in this staple American food by devouring one of the juicy little bastards EACH AND EVERY DAY!

For example, my family dined on the King of Chicken, Chick Fila tonight! Chicken sandwhiches! Chicken Nuggets! Chicken Strips! why, our family of four was indirectly responsible for the death of 4 chickens tonight alone!

How you ask? One chicken produces only 2 breasts. We had four sandwhiches (4 breasts) a 3 piece of strips and a 12 count of nuggets. That's at least 4 chicken breasts right there! Take that PETA!

What? How can you eat chicken every day for a month? Not a problem! Me and the kids figured it out on the way home as the delicious scent of all that bird wafted in the car:

Chicken Noodle Soup

Chicken and Rice Soup

Chicken and Dumplings

Chicken Rice

Chicken Nuggets

Chicken McNuggets

KFC

Burger King's Chicken Fries

Popeye's spicy chicken

Chicken Strips

Chicken Tenders

Chicken fingers

Chicken Patties

Popcorn Chicken

Chicken Kiev

Shake and Baked Chicken

Home Made Fried Chicken

Chicken Parmesan

BBQ chicken

teriyaki Chicken

Hot Wings

Grilled Chicken

Oven-roasted Chicken

Grilled Chicken Salad

Subway Chicken Sandwich

Sliced Chicken Coldcuts

And don't forget the baby Chickens, mwuhahahahahaha:

Scrambled Eggs

Eggs over Easy

Eggs Sunnyside Up

Omelletes

Boiled Eggs

Poached Eggs

Deviled Eggs

Powdered Eggs

Chicken Salad

WHEW! That's a lot of chicken! So do your part! Don't beak afraid! EET MORE CHIKIN'!

DEAD RISING 2: CASE ZERO

2010-09-01T12:34:00.000-04:00

So I was home sick yesterday... not infected by a zombie outbreak, just fighting a little stomach flu. So I turned on the old Xbox and whattyaknow- I got to fight some zombies...

Dead Rising 2: Case Zero, a pay-demo was up for download.

In a word: Definitely buy this for 400 points if you are considering the full game. That's about the cost of an HD rental from XBLive, and it takes about 3 hours (if you knew what you were doing) to race through the storyline.

The Specifics

A couple of years ago, Xbox released "Dead Rising" a "zombie" survival 3rd person game that saw you as a photographer trapped in a Mall (shades of "Dawn of the Dead" trying to gather supplies, rescue others and get the hell out of Dodge- or Williamett (something like that, I forget the exact town name). The game featured typical third person view, but had the nifty feature that you could pick up nearly anything to bash zombies with- cash registers, guitars, benches, even potted plants. And the "zombies" were actually infected humans, controlled by tiny bug-queens that could be captured and squished- causing nearby zombie heads to explode. The game had a super-long plot, featured lots of great gore, and very little firearms.

DR2:C0 is more of the same. The plot is you're a famous motorcycle rider, ala Johnny Blaze. Your daughter got bit by your wife who was already turned. You're giving her shots every 12 hours to keep her from turning. Some asshole steals your truck as you refuel in some po-dunk town, abandoning you and your little girl. You hole up in a gas station, and you have 12 hours to search the town to find more medicine and either wait for the Army to show up, or find another vehicle and split.

New weapons abound in the game. My personal favorite is the claymore sword, which is for some reason in the gun shop in town. There's also Bowie knives, M16s, handguns, shotguns, hunting recurves, chainsaws, spiked baseball bats... lots of zombie bashing fun.

Like before, the zombies are semi-docile, bewildered flesheaters by day, but at night become aggressive and chase after you. You can open and close doors, effectively barricading yourself in various buildings, and time passes about 5 times faster than normal. After you locate (or buy from the local pawnshop) some Zombrex medicine, then you're off to repair a trail bike to ride out of town. The whole mission has to be completed in 11 hours of game time, or just under 4 hours of real time.

Survivors include the pawnshop owner, some crazy, rattlesnake-jacket-wearing redneck sniping zombies from a rooftop for fun, a gambler couple from nearby Vegas, etc. etc.

I had a blast with it for three hours. Then I started getting frustrated and read the walkthrough online so I could finish the damn thing.

Game strategies are to jump, duck, weave and run through the bewildered crowd of zombies. There's too many to shot them all, and the game will just respawn them anyway.

Left4Dead is better, because it's all shooting and blowing stuff up. This is more of a scavenging, fighting zombie game than a shooter. Still, it's a lot of fun for a few hours.

What is this game lacking?

Vehicles: They're everywhere, abandoned through the large map. In DR1, there was a motorcycle, convertible, panel van and even an open Humvee you could drive to plow through the crowds of zombies. The demo ends with you motorcycling away, dodging or running over zombies, but I still want a steamroller, or a tank or something...

Destructive Enviroment: I appreciate I can shoot out windows, and open and close doors, but why can't I plant a propane tank next to a locked door, shoot it and create a new entry? After Bad Company 1&2, I NEED destructible enviroments.

Climbing: You can climb and jump and so forth in this like Mario, but for some reason you can't climb chainlink fences, water pipes, or trees. I know I'm a big guy and climbing a chainlink fence is probably pushing the boundaries of reality, but in the game you're a thin extreme bike dude who should have no problem shinnying up the wall of a building Jackie Chan-style. Why tease me with climbing onto dumpsters, but thendeny me climbing a frickin' fence?

Running: Apparently, Chuck Greene (the hero of the game) is carrying bars of lead in his pockets, because he never does more than a wimpy jog-walk. When you're on the roof of a building, the streets teeming with zombies and a distance of only 10 feet separates you from the roof of the gun store, you should be able to take off in a dead run and leap across the roof gap, like something out of Starsky and Hutch. Even I can run faster than Chuck Greene.

Fire: Frankenstein was afraid of fire. Even Lego Indiana Jones has fire. Why is there no damned fire in DR2? I saw it in DR1. Why can't I light a building on fire and watch the zombies burn? Why can't I create a barrier of burning fuel on the road to hold zombies at bay? I guess this would fall under the whole destructive enviroment thing...

Ammo: Where the F*CK IS THE AMMO? When you're in the hunting store, there's boxes of it sitting out, but you can't pick them up or reload. You empty your M16 into a crowd of zombies until it runs dry, then you throw it on the floor. WTF? Have the game designers heard of bayonets? Even the police station is devoid of ammo. When you kill a zombie cop or soldier, you can't scavenge ammo off them like in GRAW. VERY frustrating.

Coolest parts of the Demo:

On the roof of the building you start in there's a Barret M82A1 anti-vehicle .50 cal "sniper" rifle. Find the rooftop ladder, climb up and get it. It's not good for up close, but it's rounds can take out three, or four or more zombies in a row. Firing into the densely-packed streets sends zombie limbs flying and is clearly the most awesome part of the game.

All the gambling machines around town (the game is set in Vegas) can be smashed and broken, causign them to spit out money. The same for ATMs. That money is used at the pawn shop- once you rescue the shop keeper.

Overall, I think I'll pass on the full version of DR2 and just stick with this pay-demo when I want to cave in some undead skulls. And this demo just made me wish more for a version of Left4Dead that featured only common infected for my sniping fun.

THOR'S DAY RANT: It's Effin BAD Science...

2010-08-12T14:31:00.001-04:00

There's this new show on the G4 channel, and I'm going to have to go all Phil Plait on it's ass for a moment.

The show is called "It's Effin Science" and it's been advertised very widely on my satellite service provider, Dish Network. They try and give it a Mythbusters look, with "cool", "hip" sciencey nerds blowing things up, etc. My kids and I love Mythbusters, so I finally watched part of an episode the other Effin night.

Awful. So awful, in fact, I am compelled to warn people that watching this show will actually reduce your intelligence.

First off, one of the science nerds "built" spy glasses with a mini digital camera in them, recording to a mini SDCard. Oh, so cool...

And I can get one for under $50 at www.meritline.com. They've had these devices for several years now. www.thinkgeek.com carries them too...

http://www.thinkgeek.com/gadgets/security/c3eb/ for a little more cabbage.

Next up, a science nerd built a radio control car with a pan and tilt camera that wirelessly transmits to the base station. He used it to patrol a house to find the other science nerd, who was hiding under a bed. Wow. How exciting. Not exciting enough for me to go to Target and buy a pre-made car like this, though.

Oh, and when I say built, I'm not talking about an Adam Savage-like sequence where science nerds injure themselves welding or make clever jokes while scavenging parts. I mean they presented an item to the camera and claimed to have built it.

But the final Effin' straw for me came between segments, when they asked viewers what would kill you first in a vacuum: Cold, Radiation or explosive decompression? Their answer was explosive decompression. Yeah, maybe on Star Trek. Or Futurama.

What would actually kill you is your lungs rupturing- and this is assuming you jumped out the hatch, holding your breath. Human bodies WOULD NOT explode in a vacuum. Don't believe me?

http://imagine.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/ask_astro/answers/970603.html

The only redeeming thing that Effin' Science has going for it is that one of the nerds is Chad Zdenek, from G4's Human Wrecking Balls. I don't like Chad, but seeing him reminds me of the awesomeness of Human Wrecking Balls. Good memories there.

My final spin on Effin Science?

Effin avoid it.

The First Day of School

2010-08-11T11:43:00.000-04:00

Ah, the first day of school, when kiddies go off to learn.

Today was our kid's first day of school this year... and it sure doesn't seem like as a good a start as one could hope for...

Our youngest, Mandi, started off fussing all morning wanting to go to her 1st day of kindergarten. She couldn't wait.

"Daddy! Let's go!"

"They're not open yet, Mandi."

"Daddy! Let's go to school!"

"I'm still not dressed, Mandi- eat your breakfast..."

Cute the first three times, started to get annoying... Meanwhile, Sammie (our oldest) was nervous about going to middle school- afraid about kids fighting. Clearly she's watched too much Ned's DeClassified or something. And since she's 5'2" she shouldn't be worried.

Next, I get in the shower and notice some water where there shouldn't be. Put my glasses on and find out that the shower head is leaking like crazy. One of the girls (and I can eliminate Mandi- she's too short) was twisting or turning the head where it meets the shaft out of the wall. That made a loose, leaky connection. No time to find my channel locks and teflon tape so I just whipped out my Leatherman and did an impromptu tightening. And yes, I wear my Leatherman around the house.

After I'm done with my shower, toweling off, Sammie comes running through the house and beats on the door "Daddy! We need your help!" Crossing my fingers someone didn't fall down the steps or shit themselves or light the house on fire I asked what was wrong. "Sunnie got loose- mommy can't catch her!".

Great. Sunnie is our border-aussie, one year old dog who is testing us lately. When we put her out, we have to walk with her to keep her from running down the carport and out to the front yard. Sometimes, you even have to hold her collar. I've told the wifey this multiple times, but she refuses to listen. She swings the door open for the dog and says "outside" and out Sunnie runs... mostly toward the backyard. This morning wasn't a mostly.

"Sammie- what do you expect me to do? I just got out of the shower! I'm not even dressed!" I yell in frustration. Then I go into old man mode and start talking to myself: "Maybe if she gets hit by a car she'll learn not to run out front..."

Moments later, as I'm brushing my teeth (because I refuse to change my routine because the wife can't control the dog), Sammie runs back in the house and tells me it's okay- mommy caught the dog.

Allright, so we all get our shit together and leave... a little behind schedule due to the normal, I-can't-find-my-backpack, where's-my-shoes, etc.

We take Sammie to her school. On the way, she announces that she can't remember where her classroom is. I have to repeat like five times how to get to her class... "Go inside, take the first left. Walk to the end of the building and take the last right. Walk down the hallway and your class is on the left. If you get to your locker, you've gone too far." I also point out to nervous-girl that the school expects kids to get turned around and not to worry. If she gets lost, ask for directions.

Then it's on to Mandi's school. And the traffic jam to end all traffic jams. Apparently, not just the kindergartners' parents were parking and walking their kids in. Half the freaking town was there, parked on side streets, walking in. It was like a damned flea market. We find a space, take the hike to the school, and walk Mandi in. No way she's getting to her locker- there's so many people jammed in the kindergarten hallway it looks like a movie letting out. Finally manage to squeeze into her classroom and stand around waiting. Bell rings, kids start to filter in, then finally the teacher. The teacher has the kids say goodbye then we finally leave- which is great, cause I was pretty dehydrated at this point from all the sweating.

Take the wife back home- it's her day off- then I hurry to work.

But hey, it's almost lunch time and no calls from the school! Maybe this day will get better!

Representation without Taxation?

2010-07-30T10:23:00.000-04:00

Ay, carumba. What was that Court thinking?

Let me begin by saying, this isn't a brown-white thing. I don't hate Mexicans. Unless they're being stupid. Or not paying their taxes. Or committing crimes.

Why, just this morning, I say a van broke down in the middle of the street. The young man driving it was doing his best to push it to the side of the road, but cars kept driving around him. Not a damn one of them stopping to help. I stopped, asked if he needed help. The young man turned out to be hispanic. And he barely spoke english. If I was truly race-biased, I'd have driven on, like the assholes I watched go by. But no, I stopped, got out, and helped this kid push his van across the street to a parking lot.

No, my issue with all the illegals is taxes. They don't pay them.

Let me tell you a little story. A tale of how a band of people crossed the border with their neighboring country, without permission. How they fed off the land, stole from the citizens of this neighboring country and refused to pay taxes, or contribute in any way. The people in this neighboring country didn't like it. They rebelled against the invaders, some of whom killed them. The invadees' government didn't protect them- they rolled over to the invaders, giving in to demands and handing over their nation's riches.

I'm of course talking about the Nazis and the French.

The Nazi Wehrmacht crossed into France in May 1940, cleverly sneaking around the ginormous Maginot Line the French had belt to keep them out. In case you're wondering, the Maginot Line was a massive wall of fortifications built along the French-German border precisely to keep the Germans out. But the Nazis just went around it.

Once inside France, the Nazis quickly defeated the French forces, then began to steal from the French citizens. Nazi soldiers took what they wanted; food, women, physical property. The French Government didn't organize a rebellion, they caved in and adopted socialism, and fell right into step with Hitler. Meanwhile, French citizens who didn't like having what little their government hadn't taxed being stolen by the invaders, formed a resistance. They fought back.

The United States faces a similar, if less organized, threat to the south. Illegal immigrants are pouring through gaps in our border and stealing from us. They don't come in and become citizens and pay taxes. They sneak in and become freeloaders. Using our roads, without paying taxes to upkeep them. Putting kids in our schools, without paying taxes to keep up the schools or hire more teachers. They are a burden on our society. Spanish-speaking bums.

If someone snuck into your home while you were at work, and set up residence in your basement and started eating your food, watching your TV, running the air conditioner you normally kept off during the day and otherwise running up your utilities, would you let them stay? Or would you call the police to have them thrown out?

Why then is it so bad for Arizona to want to get rid of illegals? Last I checked, the United States still has a citizenship process where anyone can come and go through the process to become a citizen. We aren't saying we don't want any hispanics here. We just want them to come here legally and start paying their fair share.

The United States was founded when a bunch of angry people in New England decided that paying taxes but having no real say in their destiny sucked. They called it "taxation without representation". They set forth a precedent that if you want our tax money, you have to give us something in return. The flip side of the that should be a cornerstone of our nation as well: if you want to live here, and get services, your lazy ass needs to pay taxes. Why should the color of your skin exclude you from taxation?

Coming to this country and taking, taking, taking... why that's no better than being a Nazi. Just ask the French.

2010-07-22T14:51:00.003-04:00

THOR'S DAY RANT:

Stolen Valor, or Infringed Speech?

Let me preface this rant by declaring I am a veteran of the USAF (1990-1994) but that I have no combat awards, medals, etc other than the Nat'l Defense Medal given just for being on Active Duty during a conflict.

So I was watching Fox News this morning, and they have this schmuck on TV whining about how a Court ruled the "Stolen Valor" law unconstitutional. Stolen Valor? WTH?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stolen_Valor_Act_of_2005

Apparently, this law was passed in 2005 and makes it a Federal Misdemeanor to lie about military awards. Indirectly. Under the act, it is illegal for unauthorized persons to wear, buy, sell, barter, trade or manufacture "any decoration or medal authorized by Congress for the armed forces of the United States, or any of the service medals or badges awarded to the members of such forces." (-Wiki)

WTF?

What's next? Are we going to criminalize women lying about their age or weight? Make it a crime to ly to women in bars about your marital status, what car you drive or your profession?

Whiney-ass this morning on TV felt that liars cheapen the awards. He was upset that his fallen comrade in arms never got to see their awards- they were posthumously given.

Hey, dumbass, heroes don't do it for the glory.

I absolutely can't stand jackasses that have to rub it in everybody's face they were a Navy SEAL, or they have a purple heart, etc. etc. I'm not saying they shouldn't have been given an award, but let's be brutally honest. Medal of Honor winners didn't charge machine gun nests thinking "Damn, this medal is going to look AWESOME on my uniform!" No, they did what had to be done out of selfless heroism. And anyone who brags about their medals is a complete ass.

Think about it this way, Mr. Medal-Winning-Whiney-Ass. You are bragging about how you killed people and got a shiney award for it. God forbid someone else claim to be a killer just to get some bling. Maybe you should think about why anyone brags about something like that. Heroes don't brag. Heroes tend to stay mum on the subject. It's attention-seeking punks that brag- whether the source of bragging is true or not.

Is it despicable to lie about military service? Yes. It is. We veterans- whether or not we won any awards- sacrificed our freedoms and liberties, and some, their lives, to ensure the freedoms and liberties of all Americans. Liberties like freedom of speech.

Those who went above and beyond were given awards, not to wave around and brag with, but as thanks for exemplary duty. Anyone who rubs such an award- earned, or imagined- in your face cheapens all award winners.

Society is full of people with inferiority complexes. They hang plastic testicles on their trucks. They wear flashy jewlery. They stick their noses in the air. These are all indicators of people desperate to make you believe they are better than you. Precisely because deep down, they don't believe it themselves. But do we really need to criminalize people who try to make themselves feel better? Isn't the fact they know they are liars enough? Yes it's wrong they claim to have saved lives, but short of making the claim to commit some kind of fraud, do we really need to pass judgement on them? Surely our judgement won't be as bad as the judgement they've already passed on themselves.

Maybe Mr. I-got-a-bronze-star-and-you-didn't should think more about his fallen comrades, and be thankful he isn't one of them, than trying to get people locked up for self-aggrandizing lies.

This whole story reminds me of a classic military saying: "There are old pilots, and bold pilots, but no old, bold pilots."

I guess next, we'll start going after all those "ninjas" running around.

2010-07-15T10:05:00.003-04:00

TROGLO 'VIEW:

Xbox Live Arcade's Deadliest Warrior

There's a new game on Xbox Live Arcade, and it's ready to kick some serious ass.

I'm talking about "Deadliest Warrior"- based on the TV series of the same name.

For only 800 MS points, you get a 3rd person fighting game that features opponents from different historical eras, armed with melee and some ranged weapons, ready to hack each others limbs and heads off. It's a lot of gruesome, bloody fun.

THE FIGHTERS:

The Ninja- this sneaky, pajama-clad assassin from Japan brings a Ninjato sword and a chain thingey to the rumble, with some shuriken in reserve. While's he's about as armored as a Kleenex, he can hop and jump all over the screen. He's super-fast, too.

The Samurai- for real warfare, the Samurai comes equipped with a Katana, a Spear/blade thingey, a bow and arrow and some bad-ass armor. The Samurai can slice and dice fast, but isn't as nimble on his feet as the Ninja. And while he may have been able to take out a horde of soldiers, one-on-one doesn't seem his forte.

The Apache Warrior- I laughed when I first saw this guy included. His body paint offers less protection than the ninja's pajamas. But he has a stone knife, some hatchets, a bow and arrow, and dances around like a pansy just as good as the Ninja. Very annoying to lose to this guy when you're covered in armor plate.

The Spartan- with a shield big enough to go sledding on, a short sword, a thrusting spear and some javelins, and bronze armor, the Spartan is a bad dude. He strikes super quick, over and over, without getting tired.

The Centurion- Rome's Empire lasted a thousand years, so the Centurion is not to be trifled with. He's basically the iron-age version of the Spartan, with a smaller shield, a better sword, javelins and spear. He's not as fast as a Spartan, and can knock you down with his lighter shield.

The Viking- Santa Claus is coming to town, and he's got chainmail armor, a sword, a huge axe and a wooden shield. For naughty boys that run away, he's got two javelins. The Viking is big, strong but a little slow.

The Knight- Anybody got a can opener? Cause this knight is covered head to toe in metal plate. And he has a shield. He wields a crusader-looking sword, a poleaxe and has a crossbow he recocks using his feet.

The Pirate- This drunken boob has a cutlass, a dagger, a flintlock pistol and can kick you like the jackass he is.

GAMEPLAY:

One thing I always hated about fighting games was trying to remember all the complicated special moves. Up+down+side+up+throw-my-controller-at-the-TV.

Deadliest Warrior keeps it simple. Left stick moves you around. Y button is a high attack, X a mid-level, A a low-level. B triggers your ranged attack. Squeeze either trigger and you block- by lifting a shield or weapon. Left bumper switches your weapons- for example from sword-and-shield to battleaxe. On some guys, the right stick triggers a special move, like the Ninja's cheerleader cartwheel, or the Pirate's nutcracker kick (at least I think so- I personally don't play pajama boys or sots)

The match (a 1, 3 or 5 round bout) starts with each fighter facing each other on opposite sides of the screen. You can lob spears, 'stars or gunshots at your foe, or charge in. Unlike older fighting games, you can't just mash buttons to win (a tactic I used to employ against my wife on the Sega Genesis, irritating her to no end). For one, your fighter will tire if you mash buttons over and over. For another, he actually exposes himself to counterstrikes. For example, if I use a Spartan, I move in, shield up and let my opponent strike first. As he recovers from his strike, I unleash a barrage of sword attacks, most of which land on his mid-section. Similarly, when using a thrusting spear, aim for the mid-section, even against shield-bearing opponents, and you seem to do better. On the other hand, when my Santa Viking uses the battleaxe, I find a high-level attack works best, arcing the axehead down from above.

During a match, you might want to switch weapons. You start with a light weapon, say a shield and sword, that work fairly well together. If you switch to your heavy weapon, say, Santa's Axe, you can't use your shield, and your attack is slower. I highly recomend against trying to chop wood against a more nimble opponent like the Sleepover Ninja.

As you take hits, your health bar is depleted, until you are felled. The graphics are fairly graphic, too. You'll see fighters with spears sticking out of their chests, or with limbs lopped off, squirting blood from stumps like Monty Python's Holy Grail Black Knight. Heads come off too.

At the end of the round, the winner has a little animation where he rubs it in he just kicked your ass. Oh, and you can taunt enemies in combat by pressing the back button, trigger an animation. Santa the Red for example bangs his sword on his shield, throws back his head and says "Ho, ho, ho" (okay, maybe not, but he does yell). When you taunt, you're open for attack.

UNLOCKABLES

But wait! There's more! If you play single Player arcade mode, you can unlock better gear. Santa can replace his sword with a hatchet that is great for punching through armor. He upgrades his battleaxe to a halberdy-looking thing, and he trades his two, individually-thrown spears for two dual- thrown heavy spears. He can also upgrade his chainmail to this plated, feathery, pimp-looking armor I wouldn't be caught dead in.

Each fighter has unlocks, but sadly, it doesn't appear you can use other folks weapons. I'd personally love to have Santa the Red wielding the Knights Shield, a Katana and some Kamas, but no go.

MULTIPLAYER

The game has a bunch of modes. In single player you can fight practice rounds, where your opponent stands there and takes it like a side of beef, is controlled by the CPU and fights back, or is controlled by someone else in the room- like your five year old daughter, who then cries when you stick a spear through her fighter's head, and won't play with you anymore.

Next there's a battle mode where you can fight your braver, 10 year old daughter, who doesn't cry when you behead her fighter, but seems to enjoy the blood and carnage a bit too much for a girl. However, being a 10 yr old, she quickly loses interest in dulling your sword and you then have to fight the computer/CPU.

Finally, there's ARCADE mode. In this, your fighter faces off against each of the 7 other combatants, one by one, unlocking weapons along the way.

Plus, I should mention that the game has three difficulty settings- Normal (like there's anything normal about a Ninja and an Apache fighting), Hard, and "Deadliest Warrior" (how cheesy).

When you get done unlocking the more serious weapons of destruction, the kids won't play with you anymore and you tire of beating the Xbox's CPU up one side and down the other, it's time to face off against anonymous 8 yr old kids on Xbox Live- that hurl taunts and take it personally when you beat them, instead of enjoying the dismembering fun of the game.

At least with ranked matches you shouldn't encounter these Rugrat, unsupervised kids more than once.

ENVIRONMENTS

I guess I'll mention there are different arenas. Ordinarily I wouldn't give a shit, but the bamboo sanctuary is cool because as you're fileting your oppnent, you might accidentally slice down a bamboo tree. Very cool. The Castle courtyard has some flags that can be knocked down, but they just confuse me and think a spear was thrown at me. There's a Greek ampitheater as well, that looks suspiciously like one of the levels from the AVP game. And there's the fight lab, with red grid on the floor and pig, test carcasses hanging from the ceiling.

CHANGES I'D MAKE

First, there needs to be more fighters. But, as the game has a built-in downloadable content option, that's clearly coming.

Secondly, I want to mix and match weapons, not just fighters. I want my Santa Viking to have a flintlock pistol, a Spartan sword and the Centurions short sword. And I bet some pajama-wearing Ninja's would like a shield to hide behind or sleep in later.

The game really needs some tweaking. There is simply no way a Chainmail-wearing Viking should ever beat a Samuraii in a sword fight. But I did- I beheaded the Samurai, much to my surprise. Similarly, a ninja with a spear sticking through his heart, shouldn't be able to still cartwheel around like a ballerina. And no one will ever convince me that a stone Apache knife can sever an armor-plated Knights arm.

Finally, the game is based on a show where you sit back and watch people argue about the killing power of weapons, test said weapons, then actors do a dramatization of what a battle might look like. Often while I eat my dinner. So why the f*ck doesn't the game have a CPU vs CPU mode where I can pick the fighters, their gear, then enjoy the fight?

FINAL CONCLUSIONS

Overall, this game is lots of sick fun. I played it for three or four hours last night. My kids- while they wouldn't play against me- enjoyed watching the carnage. My five year old played (on "Normal") herself and as a pink ninja (yes, you can change your fighter's colors) was whiping the floor with the CPU-controlled Apache. Which was kind of surprising. My favorite moment in the game is when I hurl a Viking spear at random across the arena in the opening seconds of a game and spears right through the head of my opponent, ending the match. Ho, ho, ho, bitch.

Yeah, it isn't a simulator. Even AVP has more "realism". But for $10, what do you expect?

Sorry, but I AM better than you...

2010-07-09T08:54:00.001-04:00

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,"

-Declaration of Independance, Contental Congress, July 4, 1776

" The legs of the lame are not equal: so is a parable in the mouth of fools."

-Proverbs 26:7

So which is it? Are we all equals, or aren't we?

On the one hand, the United States was founded on the principle that all men were created equal. On the other, God tells us that some are not equal to others. So which is it?

I say we aren't equal- and that it isn't a bad thing. I say that I am in fact better than a crackhead or a murderer or a rapist serving time in prison. After all, I'm not in prison, I haven't done drugs, murdered or raped anyone. At the other end of the spectrum, I'm better at reaching for things off the top of the refrigerator than my wife, or anyone under 6 feet tall. Simply because I'm taller.

Better is a fact of life, yet people seem to get really upset about it.

I was watching Ghost Hunters Academy this week, and I was quite heartened by contestant Eric Baldino's remarks after he lost the contest to contest Adam Berry. He wasn't upset at all. He thought that Adam did a better job, and he (Eric) knew he had done the best he could. That's sportsmanship. That's something we should be teaching our children.

Instead, my kid often comes home from school telling me about being taught that no one is better than anyone else. The liberals like to proclaim that as well, handing out our tax money to deadbeats that won't even try to get a job. They refuse to accept the fact that people can be better than others. They stigamtize "better".

There's nothing wrong with someone being better than you. What's important is that you try your best. Like Mr. Baldino.

I'm better at getting things off tall shelves than my wife. And given her gun-phobia, I'm a better marksman than her. I'm also better at eating steak. But she has a better singing voice than me. And she surely dances better than me (not that I ever dance). The point is, why do so many people feel compelled to bring down the accomplishments of others? Why is it such a big deal that someone is better than you?

As parents, we should want our kids to be better than us. I'm thrilled when my daughter does better than me at a video game. Or that she's a better artist than me. I take pride in her accomplishment, despite the fact I have absolutely nothing to with it- it's something she has done entirely on her own.

Fanatics enjoy the abilities of professional atheletes, who are of course better than they are at playing sports. Politicians always like to throw around that they are better than their opponents. So why do we teach children that they are equals? Why do we try and convince men and women they are equal?

God (not Darwin) created us all equal, but he also gave us different gifts, and we make different choices that make us better than others in some respects.

While I know I'm overall a better person than a murderer serving time, I have very little doubt that there isn't something they're better at than me- like maybe playing basketball, lifting weights or fashioning weapons out of toothbrushes. But like Mr. Baldino, I should be a good sport- whether I'm better, or my opponent is. Better is a fact of life. We should all take pride in accomplishment- whether it's ours, or someone else's.

So kudos to you Mr. Baldino, for being a good "loser". And kudos to Adam Berry for being a gracious winner and not rubbing it in anyone's face. Unlike so many reality shows, Ghost Hunters Academy has set a positive example many of us would do well to investigate.

DOG WALKING- Good ownership or Cruelty?

2010-06-28T13:14:00.001-04:00

I recently got into an argument over the issue of walking my dog. I have a "border-aussie", a Border collie-australian shepherd mix we bought from a shelter. I don't use the term "rescue" because I wasn't out to save any dog, I was saving money by getting an unwanted dog, instead of one with "papers".

Turns out, I got a great deal. My dog, now a year old, is incredibly smart. And very good with my kids. The idiots at the shelter thought she was blind (see "ghost eyes" and australian shepherds) and deaf. She may have hearing loss in one ear, but she responds to commands. She loves going outside and has killed one naughty rabbit so far. My only complaint about this dog in fact, is that she follows me around everywhere, chews/slobbers on me all the time and is otherwise a canine groupie. And I'm told I should be grateful for all that attention.

Anyways, I bought the dog because the wife and kids wanted a little pampered furball to play with. I wanted a dog to scare away all the varmints that keep coming onto my property from the former-farm and wooded area behind us (neighborhood in front of us, wild area behind us). We get coons and possums that root in the trash making a horrible mess on my carport. We get squirrels that chew holes in the plastic lids of the garbage cans. We get birds crapping everywhere. We get rabbits that killed my arbor day tree last year by gnawing the leaves off. We see deer and foxes prowling outside our backfence. And we get feral wild cats crapping in our flower beds.

Since the neighbor to my left had three dogs for ten years that barked nonstop, and the people across the street had multiple barking dogs, I didn't think there'd be any problem with getting a dog myself. But now, almost a year later, one of my neighbors doesn't like my dog barking.

The dog behavior websites offer up some strange ideas for quieting my dog. For one, they all insist she's bored. Funny how when I look outside, I see her barking at birds, squirrels or cats, and that she quits when they go away. Sounds "territorial" to me.

The dog sites further claim that I should "crate" my dog all day, so the neighbors don't have to hear her barking. Crating is where you lock your dog in a cage that's barely big enough for them to turn around in (it's small to make them feel safe). Kinda of like a doggy prison. Then you hire a dog walker to come over three times daily to let your dog out to stretch it's legs.

What?!

Can you imagine if people treated their children that way? I'm no animal rights nut- I firmly believe dogs are property and not sentient beings. But lock them in a little cage all day? That's crazy.

When I was a kid, dogs spent all day in the yard. They had dog houses and shade trees. They didn't have toys. They had sticks, and any occasional wildlife that wandered into range. Farm dogs had it even better, wandering around wherever they damn well pleased, and maybe coming home for dinner.

The dog websites also advocate dog walking. Again, I have to look to my childhood. Walking the dog was what you did when you lived in an apartment or didn't have a fenced-in backyard. You took your dog outside, maybe on a leash, so it could crap and stretch it's legs. If you had a yard, you let it do it's own thing when it wanted. When I proposed this theory on one site, pointing out that wolves and coyotes don't get taken for walks and seem to do just fine, I was told that they get to roam miles and miles.

Hey, my collie runs circles around the yard. She ain't sittin' in one spot all day long.

Again, I have to compare this to kids. Primarily because it always irritates me when animal nuts go on and on about rescuing dogs but never work to feed or clothe children. I don't walk my kids. Oh, sure, I take them to the store and make them walk. I take them to the zoo and walk them around or sometimes take them to a park. But I don't walk around the neighborhood like a busy-body, dragging my kids with me. They have a yard they can play in- with a swing even. Not to mention, they'd rather be inside watching Spongebob or playing video games. Or reading a book.

Is it cruel I don't take my kids for walks? Maybe if I did, they'd be too tired to misbehave. That's one theory behind dog-walking. A tired dog is a good dog.

How can people who think their dogs are more important than people treat them so poorly? Locking them in solitary confinement all day, then dragging them around on a leash in the evening? How is it not cruelty to wear a dog out so that it is incapable of playing? Not feeding them produces the same results, and it's considered cruel.

Moreover, I want someone to explain to me how "letting" my dog bark is rude to my neighbors. I have to listen to kids yelling and birds singing. How rude. I have to listen to loud music from my neighbors' guests. How rude. If only there was some ultrasonic device I could hang outside my house, disguised as a bird house or some other innocuous-looking object, that would emit painful auditory pulses when my neighbors or the birds were being rude. I mean, they make them like that for dogs, so why not people?

I guess to be a "good dog owner" I need to lock my dog in a hamster cage, all day long, then drag her by the throat around the neighborhood, keeping her muzzeled to prevent her noise-making, while bombarding her ears with an ultrasonic dog whistle.

Yeah, that's humane.

2010-06-20T09:59:00.005-04:00

TANKS A LOT, DAD...

This Father's Day, I received a wonderful gift from my wife and kids. A radio controlled tank.

This gift was no doubt prompted by one of my childhood tales of how awful my father was. Maybe I've told the story too much, but I think it perfectly illustrates how a father should not behave.

One of my most favorite toys as a kid was a little Radio Control M60 Patton tank my dad had gotten me from Radio Shack. I had wanted the Sherman WWII tank that had a traversing turret, but he went cheap on me and got me the Patton which could go forward, backward, turn left and right, but had no motorization of the turret. Both tanks were to scale with those little, green, plastic Army men kids played with.

At first, I was bummed out, because the Patton was a Vietnam-era tank. I wanted something that matched my WWII Army men. But I soon got over the temporal disgust, because I was having too much fun crashing through the ranks of the green army, toppling their Lincoln Log barriers, and otherwise wreaking R/C havoc in my room.

I can’t recall how old I was when I got the tank- maybe 10 or so. But I continued to play with it for years. I even had a shoe box with the tank, controller, and a slew of victims, er- soldiers, to play with. One day, I went to my shelves to get the box down and unleash some R/C scale carnage, and it was gone. I was baffled. I didn’t have many toys at this point, but I did still have my R/C tank and it had a specific place of honor on the shelves. Perplexed, and unable to find the box o’ carnage anywhere else in my room, I asked my dad.

“I gave that box away...” he confessed.

See, we lived in an apartment at that time, and at the other end of the building there was this single mom, estranged (not divorced) from her husband, with a 5 year old son. My single dad was always slobbering over her, and had tried to get her to go out on a few dates with him. In what he imagined was some kind of slick move to win her favor, he had come into my room, taken what he thought was just a box of Army Men, and given it to her little bastard.

With my R/C tank still inside.

I was crushed and furious. “Dear old dad” wouldn’t get it back either. Nor did he ever get me another tank, despite the fact he was heavy into radio controlled air planes at the time and dropped hundreds if not thousands of dollars on them. Planes, I might mention, he didn’t know how to fly.

This is one of many angry stories I have about my dad, and one that, at the age of 42 still bothers me.

Apparently, the wife got tired of hearing to it too. So, this Father's Day, she and the kids presented me with a bucket of Toy Story III army men and a 1/24 scale Tank- complete with traversing, elevating turret AND the ability to fire soft air pellets.

Mwuhahahahahaha! The kids and I have been having a blast all weekend with the tank, building wood block fortresses and formations of the Toy Story Army and smashing through them with the tank.

Good times.

Maybe next year, the girls will get me an HO train set. That's another painful story centered around my selfish dad.

Thanks a lot, you Banking Pricks

2010-06-18T10:13:00.001-04:00

Man, there are no good banks anymore...

So I have two checking accounts. One I use to pay the bills, etc. It has a debit card, that I am willing to use at major retailers. The other account is strictly for eating in restaurants, ordering stuff on the internet, etc. etc. I keep very little money in that account- transferring funds electronically when they're needed. I've been ID theft'd and had my account number stolen before, hence my paranoia.

The other day, I took the kids to the grocery and they were being all wild and giggly, etc. etc. distracting me and otherwise adding to the misery every shopping experience normally brings me. My nerves about shot, and I apparently grabbed the wrong debit card from my wallet, and ran it through.

Two days later, I'm paying bills and notice that my online account is overdrawn. I look, and figure out I used the wrong card to pay for my groceries. My other account had more than enough money for the purchase, but as I said, I grabbed the wrong card. I move some money around to fix things, but notice I've been hit with a $34 overdraft fee. So I email the bank, asking them when they were going to have instant alerts for banking- had I received a text or email that night, I could have transferred the funds and there would have been no problem.

The next day, I got an email "alert"- that's THREE days later- telling me I'd overdrafted. WTF good does this email alert do, three f*cking days later?

And the bank? Here's their response:

Thank you for contacting Customer Service. We will take your suggestion and pass it along. As with the fee, since it was not bank error we cannot refund the $34. If you have any questions please feel free to contact us at 1-8XX-XXX-XXXX.
Thank you and have a great day!

Assholes.

I should hang out in their lobby and eat $34 worth of their "free" cookies...

2010-06-11T12:18:00.002-04:00

It's that time of year again, when Dad's get a special holiday all their own. I used to complain that Father's Day was a joke compared to Mother's Day- hidden on the back pages of newspapers, instead of plastered all over every piece of media known to man. But we dads have progressed a little.

Don't get me wrong- Mother's Day is still made much more of a fuss than Father's Day. I know "your mother carried you for nine months!". Well, my wife carried each of our kids for nine months, conveniently packed around her middle. What with fluids and all, I'm sure that was easily an extra 35 pounds. My 5 year old is now close to 60 pounds. And I have to carry her gigantic frame up the stairs almost daily when she falls asleep watching TV in the basement. When she was 2 or 3, I also carried her, and her older sister before her, around all the time. My back has suffered far more from the weight of the kids than my wife's ever did.

And what about the future? How many people call their mom up to fix their car, or do some odd job around the house? Nope, it's the dads that are Mr. Handyman-for-Life.

This year in particular, Father's Day is taking a hit- I saw a sales flyer for "Dads and Grads Day". Moms are supposed to shell out money for Dads and their kids who just graduated. WTF?!

If I weren't a dad, this kind of thing wouldn't bother me. My own dad was a humongous asshole far more interested in himself than me. But I am a dad, and I bust my ass for my kids on a daily basis. I don't really want to sit through hours and hours of Spongebob and iCarly every day. I shouldn't know the names of all the characters on "Wizards of Waverly Place". Nor should I know that Barbie is made in China, and which of her shoes came with which outfit. But I sacrifice for my kids, precisely because I want to be a good dad. So I really think I've earned a special day.

And I'm not the only one. There are a lot of dads out there that could use a heartfelt thanks- and not some stupid tie, or moronic grilling apron. Ever get clothes for Christmas? Not a good feeling. You know you wanted toys. Don't do the same to your dad- get him something he likes, that he will enjoy, that shows you spent a little frickin' time on it. Gift cards are for chicks. Dads don't like to shop.

Dear Dairy Queen...

2010-06-03T18:54:00.001-04:00

Your restaurant sucks. I just paid $29 and your idiots couldn't get my order right. I am extremely fucking mad. How fucking hard is it to make a PLAIN (they repeated it back) cheeseburger? I'll tell you- it's not hard at all. In fact, it's EASIER than making one with the full fucking salad on it.

Why am I so pissed? Well, for one, I think it is absolutely disgusting to pull up to the window and look up at someone's throat that has a plastic plug in it.

Call me a hypocondriac, but I don't want any open sores, bloody, chewed nails or holes in the damned throat of the person serving me. It's as bad as someone who doesn't wash their hands. It's dirty looking. What's next a leper, with flesh falling off?

I wouldn't have noticed had I walked in, as I'd have been looking down at the person. But in a car, you look up and BAM! Festering, open wound neck, plugged with a block of plastic. Sorry, but that's disgusting.

Then, I get home and the cheeseburger I was looking forward to eating has a damned salad on it.

Fucking idiots. Here I was saving your shithole of a restaurant money, ordering my burger plain, and Larry the Leper serves it up even grosser than I could have imagined.

THOR'S DAY RANT: Land of the Free?

2010-06-03T14:08:00.000-04:00

Freedom is what they say so many soldiers died for. Freedom, or Liberty, is what the Founding Fathers wanted so desperately to obtain from England. But is this really a free country?

I read a very disturbing article today that sounded like something right out of a communist nation: it's illegal to videorecord police officers on duty in 12 states.

When it becomes a crime to report a crime, you know things are screwed up. As critics of these police-protection laws say, if you could record non-police in a public area, why can't you record the police?

This is a dangerous trend, and a tremendos loss of freedom. Are we really a land of the free?

I suppose for all the illegal immigrants coming in, it is a land of the free. Free healthcare, free schooling for their kids. Tax-free wages. But what about the rest of us? What freedoms do we enjoy in the United States that aren't enjoyed elsewhere in the world?

People here like to declare "America: Love it or Leave it." But is it really that simple? What if your name got put on a no-fly list? Guess you won't be flying out. Can't afford a license for your boat? Guess you won't be sailing out. Can't afford an ID card, guess you can't walk out (you need an ID to enter Canada or Mexico). Could you swim out? Would it be possible to brave the coastal waters of the United States? The Coast Guard would probably stop you if you tried, because very few people can swim a frickin' ocean.

So you're stuck in the land of the free. What can you do here you can't anywhere else?

Can you own a home? If you get approved for a loan. Or maybe inherit a bunch of money. Or save your money for years and years and then pay cash. Those are some big "ifs".

Can you drive a car? Assuming you could afford one, that is. Well, you can drive a car- if you register it, get licensed, and follow the rules. Driving a car "is a privilege, not a right" they like to tell you in Driver's Education.

Rights? There's the bill of rights- part of our constitution. Like the Freedom of Speech, the Right to Assemble, or Right to Bear Arms. Oh, wait, that Arms-thing only applies to militias. Or you have to have a permit if you leave your private property in some states. Assembly? Well, I suppose you can always meet your pals at the mall- assuming no curfew has been established due to some emergency. But if you want to protest, you have to have a permit. Freedom of Speech? You can talk to yourself as much as you like, but try posting something on the internet, or shouting out in public, and there are laws that limit what you can and can't say.

Are you free to die? Maybe not. Congress and Nobama recently passed a Healthcare Act requiring you to have medical insurance (not free insurance- no, it's a mandate you buy insurance). That sounds to me like the government can force you to stay alive, hooked to machines, getting medicines pumped into you. Then again, maybe it's the Freedom to Live they don't like- their National Healthcare could easily result in involuntary cessation of treatments. Against your will.

So what is free? Well, we're sure free to suffer at the hands of our new, hopey-changey, socialist government. No, wait, we're not. That would imply we have a choice. The devilcrats don't make any bones about it- you will comply, you will obey.

Are we Free to vote? We sure are. It's the one freedom that we still do have- as do many oppressed peoples around the world. Will this freedom be exercised? Will we exorcise ourselves of the blight of socialism this November? Our will we continue to let our liberties erode away?

2010-05-27T18:10:00.003-04:00

So, awhile back, we got a dog. An albino, Border-Aussie mix from the shelter. She's on the hyper side, loves to play, and is VERY territorial of her yard. Barks at the birds. Barks at the dogs across the street, barks at the dog behind us, barks at the dog next to us. But hey, she's a dog, and they do that.

Today, came home and saw my neighbor- the one non-dog owner now- scraping white stuff off his driveway. Seems that when his soft water filter got changed, the dummies changing it spilled the old filter contents down the driveway, and didn't bother to clean it up. It solidified.

Now, normally, I keep to myself and don't talk to the neighbors all that much. But this guy is pretty old, so I offered him the use of my pressure washer to get the stuff off. He declined, saying that the coming storm should do it. Oh, and could he ask me something.

So this guy comes over and wants to know if I noticed our dog barks. As soon as we put her out in the morning, she runs around and barks.

I pointed out she hates birds, and the damn stray cat that comes by- the same cat I have a suspicion the neighbor feeds, but I didn't point that out.

Neighbor proceeds to tell me that if we were interested in getting a collar to uiet the dog, he'd pay for it.

Excuse me?

Did he tell that to the people across the street, with three barking dogs? Did he tell that to my other neighbor, who's dog barks all the time, who used to have 3 other dogs that barked all the time, and who works for my elderly neighbor? For that matter, did he tell that to the guy on the other side of him, who's dog barks across elderly neighbor's yard, at my dog, as though they are having a conversation?

Moreover, was it really the best time to bring this up when I was trying to be neighborly by offering use of a power tool?

Hey, neighbor, I was considering a collar to quiet some of the barking. But on second thought, I pass. Are you going to collar the constant parade of your relatives, your car-door-slamming relatives that come by every weekend, disturbing my peace and quiet? Are you going to stop feeding that damn stray cat, so I won't have to keep digging cat shit out of my wife's flowers? Are you going to pay for the damage to my fence from the idiot lawn care people that regularly mow your yard and ram into my fence while doing so? The same idiots that apparently think it's cool to trim tree branches on your side of the fence, then throw the clippings over into my yard?

Oh, well, this story has a partial happy ending. I found out, after Mr. Helpful's offer, that my dog finally lived up to the reason I agreed with the wife and kids to get a dog. She killed a varmint. That's right, I found a little bunny carcass by her food bowl. Seeing as how rabbits killed a tree I planted last year by nibbling on it, I am super pleased with my purchase.

Bark all you want, doggy. You've earned it.

THOR'S DAY RANT: Stars and Stripes FOREVER!

2010-05-27T15:13:00.000-04:00

Nothing burns my ass more than hearing stories like this one- where a couple in Wisconsin are beign told by some pinko-commie property owner they can't fly the American Flag in the window of their apartment.

WHAT?!

All these mexicrims that sneak across our border and dodge paying their fair share of taxes are congratulated and protected on flying the Mexican flag on Stinko De Mayo, but the official flag of the United States isn't appropriate to be flown in the United States?

That's complete and utter bullshit.

Charlie Price gave up 8 years of freedom to ensure that American CITIZENS get to have their freedom.

I'm a veteran myself, and I feel the Prices' pain. In fact, I'm putting my flag up on my door tonight in their honor. I'm also going to adorn every window I can with an American flag. I was just planning on sitting at home this Memorial Day weekend, grilling and relaxing and remembering my fallen comrades who don't get to grill and relax, but now I may just have to travel around town, waving the Red, White and Blue in the face of all you liberal communistas that have forced your Marxist hatred of freedom into every corner of this Nation.

2010-05-20T15:20:00.003-04:00

THOR'S DAY RANT:

"Artificial Life", My Ass

So now we have some arrogant scientists who think they have artificially created life:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science_and_environment/10132762.stm

"The researchers constructed a bacterium's "genetic software" and transplanted it into a host cell. "

And where, pray tell, did the host cell come from? Did they mix it up from their junior science kits? No. They used a pre-existing cell, overwrote it's DNA with something else.

They didn't create shit. They changed something.

If I glue fur to a pig, and put a dog collar on it, have I created the first synthetic dog?

What if I hollow out a coconut and fill it with mashed potatoes? Is that an artificial potato?

Their "artificial life" is no more groundbreaking than a boob job.

Why does this make me angry? Because so many scientists these days spout out nonsense and expect us ignorant peasants to believe it unconditionally. They're worse than tele-evengelists. Science is supposed to be it's own truth- not a bending of the facts to suit someone's ulterior motives.

The Church of Science has gotten way too far out of hand. Hell, even the Mythbusters think of themselves as all-powerful "scientists". Okay, maybe not all of them, but try reading Adam Savage's Twitter feed sometime. Adam, you have a great show, and I truly, honestly, from the bottom of my heart thank you for helping the Star Wars movie franchise continue along, but, dude. You're not a scientist. If blowing sh*t up and talking about it makes you a scientist, then I'm f*cking Albert Einstein. See, me and firecrackers, we did some heinous, dangerous sh*t when I was a kid. Trust me on this. (I know- firecrackers don't compare to C4 obliterating concrete mixers, but you have a whole production company and experts helping you. I was a frickin' kid and engineered my own experiments with the sole help of me, myself and I.)

But I digress.

My point is, science shouldn't be treated like some secret club. Nor should scientists arrogantly think you have to have credentials to understand anything. Scientists shouldn't think they are better, and then lie to us ignorant rubes to make themselves more God-like. And that's just what these pricks have done in Maryland. Lied about what they've done. They didn't create, they changed. The whole thing is disingenuous.

Fellas, until you can mix up a living creature, completely from scratch, you haven't created artificial sh*t. Go back to trying to clone Mammoths, so I can have me some Fred Flintstone-sized steaks, you pompous asses.

THOR'S DAY RANT: STINKO De Mayo

2010-05-13T09:06:00.000-04:00

Hold De Mayo! I know that the 5th of May was a week and a half ago, but the media still keeps talking about the whole Mexican vs. American flag thing.

Before I go any further, let's get it clear exactly WHAT the 5th of May represents in Mexico.

An excuse to party.

(Courtesy Wikipedia)

Cinco de Mayo (Spanish for "fifth of May") is a holiday held on May 5 that commemorates the Mexican army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín

Cinco de Mayo is not Mexico's Independence Day, the most important national patriotic holiday in Mexico.

Cinco de Mayo is a regional holiday limited primarily to the state of Puebla.

It's kind of like The Battle of Normandy. A little battle we like to celebrate in the U.S. on D-Day (June 6)

What? You don't celebrate D-Day? If it weren't for the success of the Normandy landings, the Nazis might not have been stopped. We might all be zig-heiling and goosestepping to work.

If the Mexicans hadn't won the Battle of Puebla, there might be a United and Confederated States. So, yeah, it's kind of important. But why is it celebrated more in the U.S. than in Mexico?

I digress...

I despise Stinko De Mayo. Not because of it's historical significance (the slave-trading, cotton-picking secessionists from down South needed to be stopped), but because of how so many Hispanics use it as another means to resist integrating into American society.

America is a place, not a race. We are a land of all peoples. Our culture is a mix of cultures from around the globe. Remember the old term "melting pot"?

Apparently the "Mexicans" don't want to see it that way. They want to invade our country and force their culture on all the rest of us. Do they think the history of their country of origin is more important than that of African slave descendants? Or of the Irish potato famine survivors? Or of the Chinese workers who built the American rail road system? How utterly arrogant.

Even more disgusting than their racist you're-not-Mexican-you-suck ideology is the fact that they get so worked up on Stinko De Mayo and wave the Mexican flag in everyone's faces.

Newsflash: the current Mexican flag isn't the one used during the Battle of Puebla. The current Mexican flag wasn't adopted until 1968- a hundred years afterwards. Are all you el zealots flying the correct, historical flag?

I guess what really has me worked up though, is the four kids that wore American flag shirts (to their American school) on Stinko De Mayo, and were sent home. This is the United States, byotches. The Stars and Stripes is ALL OF OUR FLAG. Do the Irish get mad that people fly Old Glory on St. Patrick's Day? Do you see any drunken Germans ripping the Stars and Stripes down during Octoberfest? No. Because they are proud of their heritage and that they are Americans.

All you Stinko De Mayans can take your flag, tie up your belongings, throw it over your shoulder and march your disgruntled asses right back to Mexico. Because clearly you think it's better. No one's stopping you.

Oh, and just to clarify, since you all enjoy waving the Mexican flag around while burning Old Glory... guess what I'll be burning next Stinko De Mayo?

TROGLO-VIEW: IRON MAN 2

2010-05-10T12:42:00.000-04:00

If you haven't seen Iron Man 2 yet, I'm here to tell you- you're missing an awesome flick.

To be fair, let me begin with revealing I'm an Iron Man fanboy from way back. I still have my comics from 1980s. Tony Stark wasn't my favorite hero, but I enjoyed the comics enough that when I thinned out the herd, Ironman was one of a few titles I couldn't bear to part with.

I loved the first Iron Man movie- despite the fact I generally despise origin movies, as they take away valuable ass-kicking time and replace it with talking, drama and the like as the reluctant hero comes to grips with their new powers. Still, Jon Favreau totally gets what a comic book is. Watching Iron Man was no different from reading a comic. Not too much yakkity yak, enough action to keep you watching. It was a brilliant movie. Well, except for Tony Stark's "sleepover" with a certain leggy, blond reporter. That was a bit much for my kids to see.

Iron Man 2 is way better. First off, no visualizations of adultery. Sure, there were Iron girls in skimpy outfits at the Stark Expo. Yes, the Black Widow changes her clothes in the back of car, revealing black (what else) bra. But no missing pants, no groping. Hopefully, I've shielded (pun intended) my kids enough that Tony Stark's little jokes were over their head and they see him more as a drunken philanthropist than degenerate philanderer.

So, dad-approved, kid-safe.

But how is the movie?

It's not shakespeare in a tin can. You aren't going to get long, Quentin Tarantino-esque dialogues. This isn't a movie about interpersonal relationships. It's a movie about guys in armored exoskeletons kicking ass. And it delivers!

Oh, sure, they could have squeezed in a bit more action. Hard Boiled (1992) shows that a movie can have almost nothing but action. But Iron Man 2 delivers so much iron-clad, repulsor-blasting ass whuppery no one should be disapointed.

Iron Man has more than one suit of armor. His lab is straight out of the comic book- complete with older armors hanging in the background. Happy finally gets to do some fighting, instead of standing quietly in the background like an Alfred Hitchcock cameo. But best of all, War Machine shows us what the Iron Man technology could really do in the right hands.

Seriously, anybody who likes the first Iron Man better must not like action movies. Or is a perve. Iron Man 2 is so incredible. I can't wait for Iron Man 3 to be in the can!

'Nuff Said!

2010-05-09T14:59:00.002-04:00

Dear Olive Garden,

I'm at your Clarksville, IN rest. and it will be the last time I ever come to this shithole.

We waited 1 hour and 12 minutes to be seated. At a 4-person booth. A chair was put at the end as we have a 5-person party.

That's bullshit. Leading us thru the rest. without even asking if a little munchkin booth is okay. Couldn't say "no" when we got there, as we have hungry, upset children (age 10 & 4) with us. As well as their 65 yr old grandmother. Who was tired of sitting outside waiting. So we're stuck, crammed in a little fucking booth like it's the Japanese subway.

If I haven't painted enough of a picture, let me illustrate it better. I'm 6'4" by 315 lbs. And I'm sitting in a damned wooden chair at the end of the table, with barely enough room for a drink. It'll be interesting to see where the fuck my plate is going to go. (I've some ideas of where I'd like to shove it...)

If this was Father's Day, we'd be gone. I wouldn't put up with this shit. You'll get my money today- thanks to my wife. But I'll never set foot in your damned restaurants again.

And the waitress who I-shit-you-not just said "excuse me" so she could set a bread basket on the 6" by 24" end of table I have? Don't expect any fucking tip.

ADDENDUM (May 10, 2010):

Even the Universe agreed with me this time.

In addition from being forced to sit in cramped subway conditions, and subjected to ordering the airplane food Olive Garden hawks at over-inflated prices, my lunch went further downhill. When our lunch finally did arrive, my wife, my mother-in-law, and my 4 year old daughter got their lunch. My 10 year old daughter and myself got word that it was shift change and we were getting a new waittress. Oh, and our meals would be out soon.

You know, it was painfully obvious I was unhappy, so I guess I can see making me wait to eat. But why make a ten year old little girl suffer? She was very hungry after that hour-and-a-quarter outside. But instead of getting to eat, she got to watch her sister, grandma and mother eat.

Oh, sure, our meals came out eight minutes later... but that's no excuse. Of all days of the year when service should be excellent, Mother's Day is it.

At this point I was sure fuming. I was prepared to ask for my change back when I finally got the bill, and leave a penny on the table as my tip. But the Universe provided. Our bill for our horrid meal was $67.99. Awesome. I left $68, told the girl I didn't need any change and we left.

Which is what my meal did a few hours later. Quite violently. In fact, I am fairly certain Olive Garden is responsible for several trips to the bathroom to squeeze the Charmin.

What a lovely time.

Again, Olive Garden- you can suck it.

Dishonesty in Political Mailings?

2010-05-02T10:54:00.001-04:00

so I checked my mail yesterday and there was this flyer for Ron Grooms, a Republican candidate running for State Senator. I kind of remembered the name, but that was about it. Who was this guy.

Well, according to "Mayor" Dale Orem, he's great. Oh, and "Mayor" Regina Overton thinks he's swell too. And "Sheriff" Randy Hubbard likes him as well. Oh, and so does "joe Theobald".

First off, where's Joe's title? Who the hell is Joe Theobald? A Google search shows he once ran for State Rep- guess that's why he didn't get to use a title. He never earned one.

And that's my gripe- Dale Orem was once a mayor, but not anymore. I know that, because I used to live in Jeffersonville, where he was the Mayor. But what about some of the other folks getting this flyer? Do they know he's a FORMER Mayor? And Ms. Overton- isn't she the FORMER Mayor? I therefore assume Mr. Hubbard is the FORMER Sheriff.

It really irritates me how people use titles like this. It'd be different if someone retired from a position- military folks do that all the time. But just because you served one or two terms in a public position, why do you get to use the title over and over? And if Ron Grooms wants us to believe he's a swell guy, why is he listing folks who didn't get re-elected? What is their standing that makes them such good references? Are we supposed to know about their political history? If so, why give them these titles?

I think the whole thing is dishonest. Like actors pretending to be doctors in TV commercials, hawking medicines. Mr. Grooms, it's all fine and dandy that former-Mayor Dale Orem loves you, but what does the current Mayor think? I'd be much more interested in that. I mean, there are tons of former mayors in our region- anybody running for office is bound to be able to get an endorsement from one of them. You're coming across to me as being a little too desperate to get a qualified reference.

And that doesn't inspire confidence.

So let's look at your website. Ah. You run a business and were on the Jeffersonville Town Council for 13 years. That's much more interesting to me than a bunch of former politicos endorsements. And I see that you're for: Full Day Kindergarten, building an East-end Bridge, Capping property taxes and increasing funds for schools. That would also be great information to put on your flyer.

But I have to take offense at your flier's slogan of "The Leader Our Leaders Trust" and "He's the one our leaders can turn to for advice and leadership." That's not what your website says- it's all about your experience.

See, I don't think a State Senator is a leader of anything. It's a representative. I'm not voting for you to think for me- I'd be voting for you to represent me in the State Senate. To work for me and do what I would want you to do. Leader? Leader of what? A Conga-line during voting sessions?

If you can't get the job function straight (representation) than I surely don't want to vote for you. I think you're in this for you. So for the rest of your life you can go around introducing yourself as "Senator". I title that arrogant.

THOR'S DAY RANT: Avoid Danger!

2010-04-29T09:38:00.000-04:00

My in-laws have this annoying habit of endangering themselves on a fairly regular basis. I'm not just talking about how they refuse to lock the door to their home during the day- despite there having been cases of criminals barging into homes and attacking people in their town. No, I'm talking about how they dash outside when they hear loud noises. Or sit on the porch to watch for tornados during Warnings. Or how when they hear there's a big fire, they get in their truck to go for a drive and take a look.

I like to say that my in-laws are the same people that Godzilla steps on in his movies. You know the ones. While all of Tokyo is running for their lives, these fools stop, turn toward the camera, point a finger and yell "Gojira!" Then a building falls on them. Or they get stepped on.

"Curiosity killed the cat" does apply to people. And not just my in-laws.

Just yesterday, I was reading an article about a shooting in our town. The police were called to a park where a shirtless man was walking around, pointing a gun at people as they drove past. The police responded and ended up having to shoot the man when he pointed his gun at them.

What really struck me as ignorant in this article, was the neighbor who walked outside to see why the police were at his nearby park. He sees the gunman, goes inside and tells his wife to take the baby and go to the basement. Then neighbor goes back outside to watch some more.

Folks, bullets can travel a really long distance. When they hit glass, or even bodies, they can continue to travel. They don't fly a few feet and drop to the ground like a baseball.

More importantly, bullets go where they are pointed- which is not always where the gun wielder was aiming.

When I was in the Air Force, this fact was hammered into us. We were told to never, ever discharge our weapons in the direction of the very-expensive aircraft. Especially our M-16s, which have an effective range of almost 400 meters (over 1200 feet and that fire a round that can punch through concrete blocks.

If you see the police with their guns out, or some criminal waving a gun around, don't just stand there looking. Take cover.

Which brings up a very important issue the movies are always getting wrong. About cover.

"Cover" means something that will protect you. "Concealment" is something that hides you. A bush will not stop a bullet. It might hide you, but if a bullet is accidentally fired (possibly through poor aim or random accident), it will go right through that bush. Similarly, car doors, couches, windows, etc will not stop bullets. Even human bodies don't stop all bullets.

It is very important to seek cover, or get the hell away. Don't stand there waiting for Godzilla to step on you. Seek cover. Run away.

Don't Forget Free Comic Book Day!

2010-04-29T09:23:00.000-04:00

Don't forget, you can get your kids reading- at least a comic book- this Saturday, May 1, 2010.

www.freecomicbookday.com

THOR'S DAY RANT: The Earth is NOT Your Mother

2010-04-22T09:26:00.000-04:00

Well, here we are again: Earth Day. When a bunch of tree-hugging imbeciles suffering from cosmic napolean complexes showcase their delusions of global-impacting grandeur.

Hey, Hippies, if you want to skip baths, stroll around barefoot and smoke weed while looking for trees (or whales) to hump, that's fine. But stop trying to convince me it will amount to anything. Moreover, please stop declaring our planet "Mother Earth". Did the Earth uncomfortably carry you around for nine months, then go through intense pain to squeeze you out an opening that on first inspection seemed woefully small for the task?

Do you call your house, Mother House? Do you call you state, Mother State? Just because you live on this planet (and trust me, I am not thrilled about you being here) doesn't make the Earth your parent. I'd bet money if the Earth were a living thing (instead of being covered with them) it would be quite embarrassed by you. It wouldn't put your picture out for the other planets to see. It wouldn't brag about you at galactic bingo. It'd talk about your successful corporate brother- the one with the big Audi, expensive suits and key to the executive washroom.

Stop calling it "Mother Earth". It's an insult to your own mother. Who has her own holiday.

I refuse to celebrate "Earth Day". Instead, I'm going to celebrate "Jelly Bean Day". Makes more sense.

Don't get me wrong, I live here on the Earth, and like the crying indian of the '70s, I'm all against pollution. Because I don't like to see or smell it. But I fully realize that we humans are about as threatening to the earth as a grain of sand is to the moon.

Think about it- assuming you can put down the weed long enough for your brain cells to fire up again. The Earth is 12,000 miles in diameter. It is believed to weigh 5,973,600,000,000,000,000,000,000 kg. I say believed, because there isn't a scale big enough to really weigh the Earth.

In comparison, the average human is between 5 and 6 feet tall- basically 1/1000 of a mile. The average human weighs between 54 and 73 kg. Assuming the numbers are right, there are 6,816,300,000 people in the world. That's about 436,243,200,000 kg (average weight of 64 kg X population). Or 1/13,693,279,355,099 of the Earth's mass. That's right. All of mankind is about 13 trillionths the size of Earth. But we can affect the Earth. Riiiiiiiight.

Let's hold off on the argument about whether people can affect the Earth for a minute. Let's look at some other hippie causes in the past.

Communism. Karl Marx invented it- the preferred hippy form of government, where everyone is treated equally, no one is expected to excel, and no one gets to own anything. The Russians put it to practical use- forming the Soviet Union. I'm sorry, the FORMER Soviet Union. Hitler tried using the watered-down form of socialism, Nazism. Didn't work so swell for him, or Germany, either. B. Hussein Obama is trying Socialism in the U.S. right now. And his approval rating is plummeting daily.

Saving the rainforest. Funny how in the 1970s, they were predicting Brazil would be a desert by now. Funnier still that archaeologists have since discovered that the Amazon wasn't always a thick jungle. There was actually a civilization there with canals, roads and huge tracts of clear cut areas for farming.

Saving the Whales. Spend boo-coo bucks on an Earth-friendly ship and try to use it to block Japanese whalers. Result: the whalers rammed the boat, knocking a large portion of it off and sinking it. Whaling continues. And so do the whales, coincidentally.

See, the hippy track record just doesn't impress me. There are no successes. And since I know the Earth isn't my mother- more of where I keep my stuff- I'm not too concerned about going green. In fact, my answer to all this Earth Day nonsense is:

Revelations 21:1 "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea."

That's right- the ultimate recycling. After Judgement Day, God is going to recycle the Earth, providing us a fresh, new clean, and hopefully, hippy-free world to live on.

So hippies, have some Jelly Beans and shut up allready.

2010-04-21T18:44:00.002-04:00

Dear, Taco Bell,

I must compliment the Veteran's Parkway, Clarksville, IN, Taco Bell as the best frickin' fast food restaurant EVER.

I am 42 years old, and grew up eating fast food- it being just my dad and I. Now with kids, I find myself driving thru way too often. I have eaten a LOT of fast food in my life. I'm like an expert on it.

And I have to say, in all my 42 years, I have NEVER had the level of service I got at your Clarksville, IN store.

See, the lady there started to hand me our order, stopped, looked in the bag and yelled back to the kitchen- "Hold on! I'm missing something here!"

That's right- not only did she check our order, she CORRECTED it! And apologized.

Clearly, this gal doesn't belong in any drivethru. She needs to go to Taco Bell's fast food academy or something. Or maybe be an executive in your company.

I personally hate Taco Bell's food- my wife loves it. But service like that could get me to start eating more than the caramel apple empanadas.

Congratulations on your amazing luck at employing someone who actually takes pride in a good work ethic!

Viva Taco Bell!

HAMMERS: Not Good for De-Icing

2010-04-19T09:39:00.000-04:00

It's a classic American fixit method: hitting stuff.

Remember when we had analog TVs and the picture would go out, or get all weird? You'd smack your TV until the picture came back.

Electric, handheld appliance (drill, blender, toaster) not working. Smack it. Maybe the electric contacts will work.

Batteries in your flashlight failing? Smack the bottom- watch the light flicker and get brighter.

Car won't start, and you're going to be late for work? Pummel the dash several times, cursing.

In our modern digital age, the whacking method doesn't work so well. Things are delicate. Look at Amazon's Kindle- falls can break them. Or take cellphones that a little rain can ruin. But despite all the advances in delicate machinery, there was one thing that remained robust, and worthy of a pounding: the refrigerator. Like the mini, dorm-sized one I had in my basement, stocked with cold drinks for my movie marathons and video gaming sessions.

It was a great little fridge. Despite the fact the kids never bothered to close the door all the way, it still kept working. Oh, and frosting up quite a bit. Like over an inch of ice. To the point the door wouldn't close all the way.

So there I was, tired, ready to go to bed, and now I had to fix the mini fridge. In the past I did my emergency de-icing with a pair of pliers- carefully breaking off pieces of ice that blocked the door. But this time, I saw my hammer. My claw hammer.

I mean, it was right there. Laying out from a project earlier in the day. Taunting me.

Thinking about it, I remembered that once I completely de-iced a freezer on a full-sized fridge with a hammer and screwdriver- carefully tapping away at the ice like a paleontologist excavating fossils. Hmmm... any screwdrivers nearby? Nope- just that punch I had been using earlier. Well heck, a punch is like an icepick with a screwdriver handle. That'll work.

Oh, it worked all right.

It blasted through that ice no problem. Even tap-tap-tapping, it was slicing through the ice pretty easily. Too easily. Then it hit the aluminum conduit on the mini fridge's freezer. Pffssssss!

No more freon.

No more mini-fridge.

No more cool drinks during movies.

Dammit. There's an $80 to $100 mistake.

The moral of this story is two-fold...

1. Close the door to the fridge, to prevent icing.

2. Time, not hammers, is the best way to defrost your fridge. Time spent with the door open, exposing frost to room temperature.

2010-04-15T18:20:00.004-04:00

THOR'S DAY RANT: KFC Double Dirty Sandwich

Recently, I was all excited about the meatariffic chicken sandwich KFC was offering: the Double Down.

Well, I finally got around to purchasing one, and I have to say it was a shitty experience.

First off, the KFC we went to has some kind of eastern European-designed entry/exit lanes. I had to drive past, turn around, and try to enter a second time.

Then, when I placed my order, a zombie answered...

"Maaaaaaayyyy..... I.... take.... yorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.... orrrrrrr-derrrrrr."

This kid had apprently just broken up with his girlfriend, had his dog shot, wrecked his car and suddenly realized he was going nowhere in life past the prestigious duty of drive thru order-taker. Corpses have more enthusiasm.

So, I ordered anyway- specifically ordering TWO, that's TWO, also known as the sum of 1+1, half of FOUR, and the cube root of EIGHT, Double Downs, with no sauce. That's right, no sauce. Sauce is like perfume- you put it on food to hide it tastes like doody. Like perfume covers up body odor.
Anyways, I get home, and- where's the second Double Down? It's not in the bag. My poor Double Down is all alone. No fellow sandwich to share the bag with. Single. Solo. Alone.

Checked my receipt- yep, I was charged 9.98 for TWO Double Downs. What the hell? I know a lot of kids these days working in fast food have no real aspirations to do anything, but DAMN. I thought they could at least count to TWO.

Well, no since fuming right that damned second- my food was getting cold. Time to open the little KFC box and- WHAT THE HELL? Were they playing volleyball with my Double Down? Did the cook vomit the pieces together? My Double down was thrown into the box with less care than a newspaper. The pepperjack cheese was everywhere except on the Double Down. Grrr.

Cheese abuse is a hangin' offense in my house...

Okay, so I sat down to eat. And it was terrible.

Now, I don't mean terrible like I wanted to hurl. I mean terrible like a huge let down. A Double Let Down. The Colonel's secret herbs and spices original recipe on two chicken breasts with almost-crunchy bacon. Whoop-dee-doo. All that hype for this?

So I called customer service- I want my $4.80 refund, byotches. I'll eat the other $4.80, and chalk it up as an experience. But dammit, I paid for food I didn't get, and that's a bunch of crap. Much like the Double Down.

Overall rating: Double Turds for this "sandwich" from KFC. If the Colonel was still alive, he would be demoted to Sgt. for this. Lame. If I want a breadless sandwich, I'll go to Chick-Fila and remove the bun by hand.

And you should too.

KFC's Double Down Sandwhich- meal or side dish?

2010-04-05T18:27:00.001-04:00

Okay, so KFC is coming out with this new stroke of geniusness, the Double Down Sandwich.... two chicken breasts holding bacon, cheese and a (secret) "Colonel's" sauce together for your dining pleasure.

Right off the bat, I have to say two breasts are always good. Bacon? Cheese? Also good.

Secret Sauce? I dunno 'bout that one. There's already the Colonel's secret 11 herbs and spices. How many frickin' secrets does my meal need? More importantly, IS this a meal?

Well, this is where I start to worry. It's only got 540 calories. By comparison, a Five Guys Bacon Cheeseburger is a mouth-watering 920 calories. Throw in their bag o' fries, and you're easily looking at 620 calories. That's over 1500 calories. THAT is a meal.

I mean, the Double Down has less calories than a frickin' order fo Five Guys fries!

Chick Fila's 12 count of nuggets has 390 calories, though... but it's not a meal, either.

Where does the Double Down fall?

I like to think of it as an appetizer. Something to eat before I dig into my fries and bacon burger. Especially since there's a KFC across the street from my local Five Guys. Yeah, that's right, in 6 days, I'll be chomping down on the Double Down AND a Five Guys Bacon cheeseburger. Then maybe I'll hit the Dairy Queen on the way home for a large chocolate milkshake chaser. Mmmmmmm...

Take that, Windows 7 Burger!

2010-03-25T17:16:00.005-04:00

RED ROBIN? OR DREAD ROBIN?

"Gourmet Burgers"- I was suspicious of this, as, in my book, ALL burgers are gourmet food. But I decided to give this new restaurant in town a try.

Now, right off the bat, the name worried me. "Red" Robin? As in Commies? Or maybe the red shirts from Star Trek? What exactly is this color choice all about?

So we go to one of the two locations in town... and the front door really worries me. The Manager is "J. Kahn". Kahn? I'm sorry, but I am going to have to be suspicious of any ethnic name that is cooking other than their own ethnic foods. You'd be suspicious of "McDonald's Sushi Bar", right? Or "Frankenstein's Pasta", right? I will admit I've been wrong before on this- a Thai woman in town owns the local Japanese Steakhouse, and that's some d*mn good food. But Kahn cooking all-American burgers? Wouldn't he be more comfortable doing falafels?

Then my wife notices the proudly-posted, Health Department certification beside the door. An "A" Rating. 100% on their review. That's awesome. Because no matter how good your food is, I get a glass or a fork with someone else's dinner stuck to it, and I'm never coming back. I want my restaurants to be Hospital-clean.

So we wander in... and it reminds me of the place in "Office Space" that was a mockery of Ruby Tuesday's, TGI Fridays, etc etc. All gimmick. I mean, they even had a TV stuck in the floor under plexiglass. Kids were amused at standing on a TV, but I was worried.

Next, there was a "Please wait to be seated" sign. The only restaurants I have ever been to that made me wait to sit at a table did not specialize in burgers- and most had pretty shitty burgers.

So we get seated and this guy with the Red Robin SWAT team comes over, wearing this ridiculous hands-free headset. Was it flair? Or is he leading a breach and entry assault on a rival restaurant later? Why exactly does he need a hands-free headset? Oh, wait- he said he was a manager. Maybe that explains the blue shirt he was wearing- as opposed to the rest of the employees that were wearing red shirts. Still, I wanted to reach up and thump the boom mic and ask "Is this thing on?"

(Oh, and any restauranteurs reading this- I don't need, nor care to know that you're filling in for someone else because they didn't notice someone had sat down in their section. If I want to hear b*tchiness, I'll watch "The View". Just take my d*mn order and bring me a drink, okay?{)

So, after the assistant SWAT commander ambled off with our drink orders, I began to check out the menu. $10.29 for a "Monster Burger"?! WTF? For that much money, it better be so freaking huge, I need two hands to hold it up.

So we get our order- including the bottomless/never-ending fries. Ugh. I was glad they asked and didn't just dump more of those nasty fries on my plate. Hey, Comrade Robin, I have four letters for you: S--A--L--T. For $11, I shouldn't have to salt my own d*mn fries. And stop skimping on the oil- I want some flavor with my fries! The "steak fries" I had today tasted like they came from the freezer section of the local grocery then were boiled/steamed prior to serving. Blagh.

My 4 year old didn't like her "chicken on a stick" either. Who could blame her? Plain, un-flavored chicken, grilled and stuck on a popsicle-like stick. Are you telling me you couldn't figure out even one of the Colonel's secret 11 herbs and spices?

But let's get down to the core of this review: the Burger. I LOVE Cheeseburgers. Ground beef, well-done, on bread with some American cheese. No damn salad toppings, just meat, cheese, and bun, oozing delicious grease. That's gourmet.

My Socialist Burger wasn't so good though. For one, I paid $1 and some change extra for bacon. Microwaved bacon. Limp, chewey. Blagh. I like nuclear power and all, but Five Guys ALWAYS gives me crisp, crunchy bacon on their burgers. Despite it being a buck and some change, I pulled the bacon off. Yet, there was still some odd flavor to the burger. Some seasoning I couldn't place for many bites. Then it hit me: Ham. Yeah, my Commie Burger tasted just like skillet-fried ham smells. It had the same after-taste as Pizza Hut sausage pizza topping. Ha, freaking, ha, Comrade Robin. It's a HAMburger, I get it. Oh, so clever.

Well, my check wasn't clever- $55 for four people. Two of which hated our meal- my wife said hers (shrimp and cod) was okay, and the ten year old liked hers (Chicken Burger).

In the immortal words of James Tiberius Kirk: "KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHN!!!!!!"

2010-03-17T09:20:00.002-04:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all!

If you aren't Irish, don't despair- you can still celebrate this Christian holiday!

And while I'm at it, I thought I'd mention the origin's of this holiday- beyond the obvious Irish heritage that is. I noticed this morning, that my local station mentioned that St. Patrick died, but omitted any of the religious significance of the holiday.

When I was a child, I thought St. Patrick was just some magical guy who hated snakes- my grandmother kept a painting of him hanging in her house (years later I found out because her maiden name was McCracken, and her grandfather had been born in Ireland). But St. Patrick really is someone to be remembered- not for driving out snakes, but for his service to his fellow man.

The story goes that as a youth, St. Patrick was kidnapped from Roman-occupied Britainn, and taken to Ireland. God appeared to him in a dream and told him to flee his captors and run for the coast. A boat would then pick him up and take him home. St. Patrick did as he had been told, and sure enough, the boat was there and he was reunited with his family.

Now, you'd think someone who'd experienced something like this would never want anything to do with the Irish again- except maybe using them for target practice. But St. Patrick one day did return to Ireland- where he preached the message of salvation through Christ. St. Patrick even is credited with using the shamrock to explain the trinity (three-are-one) to the Irish. Others would follow in St. Patrick's footsteps, preaching the Gospel to the heathens- but it is St. Patrick whom the Irish credit with their Christian salvation.

Sadly, instead of celebrating St. Patrick's devotion to Christ, and willingness to put aside wrongs done to him, we instead use the holiday as an excuse to drink green beer and pinch people not wearing the right color.

But you can change that. If St. Patrick was able to heed Christ's message of forgiveness and return to the land of his captors, surely on this day in March you can do some good as well. Like witnessing your devotion to Christ, or forgiving a transgression against you.

Student of the Month?

2010-03-16T11:33:00.000-04:00

As a parent, it may sometimes cross your mind- why isn't my kid Student of the Month? At my daughter's school, they always prominently display the Student of the Month in the main lobby, and they put their name up on the marquee out front.

What has really puzzeled me, is that last year, my kid was the only child to make straight As, for the whole year, in the whole 3rd grade. She even got a letter the first semester, congratulating her on being one of only 5 kids in the whole school corporation (4 schools) to make the A Honor roll. But she never made Student of the Month?

What exactly is the criteria for student of the month? What kind of children are these that make student of the month, but can't make straight As?

Ah, I see.... I'm reading a report now at work about some kids fighting at one of the schools in our local school corporation. 13 year olds fighting... one gets held down by her opponents sister. A sister who is STUDENT OF THE MONTH. Yep, a high school student holding down a middle schooler so High school's little sister can win the fight. And High School is Student of the Month.

What a great selection process they have.

2010-03-16T11:27:00.001-04:00

So I'm at work, trying to uncross my eyes from the computer for a minute... which means looking at Twitter on my cell phone (yeah, not very un-eye-crossing, I know). I decided to look for Bruce Campbell on Twitter. He's always entertaining. Nope, no Campbell Twitter page, but I quickly linked through to a Myspace Campbell fan page, and saw in the Friends section "Ted Raime". Hey, Sam's younger brother. Now, I never have read anything he ever wrote. Why not add him...

Before I can though, my work phone rings- it's a B. Raime (not Bruce) calling in.

Freaky.

And a sign my break is over and it's back to work.

What Dreams May Come...?

2010-03-13T08:53:00.001-05:00

Now, I am not normally one to discuss my dreams. Primarily because dreams are some kind of psychological expression of our subconcious, and I don't particularly want anyone rooting around inside my head.

I will note however, that for the first time in months, I didn't Xbox last night, and my dream was super-weird.

When I first started playing Xbox, I played a lot of GRAW and GRAW2. So much that when I went to bed, I'd close my eyes and still see the HUD symbols from the game and dream about shooting people. Not healthy. I soon began a strict regimen of watching something totally unrelated to the game I had been playing, for at least one hour. Stayed up til 3 AM playing a marathon session of Nazi Zombies on Call of Duty World at War? Watch an episode of Smallville. An intense, 3 campaign run on Left for Dead 2? Watch an episode of Burn Notice.

So far this has worked well. See, I'm a firm believer that it's more the events of the day, and what food you might eat, priot to sleeping, that amp up the weird factor in your dreams. Watch a bunch of scary movies, and odds are, you'll have something scary to dream about. At least, I do.

Last night was rather odd, though. I watched TREMORS THE SERIES on DVD, then fell asleep during a particularly disgusting episode of Dirty Jobs. No Nazi Zombies, no Infected, no Facehuggers or Xenomorphs in AVP (my current ghaming obsession)...

And I dreamt about Sherilyn Fenn. I'm not going to get much into the details here (I like to try and stay at least PG-rated on this blog). Suffice it to say I was literally in heaven and hanging out (figuratively and literally) with Sherilyn Fenn. When I was much younger this would have made perfect sense. I watched a LOT of her movies, and countless other B Movies those many years ago. I thought she was the most beautiful woman ever. But I haven't seen or heard of Sherilyn Fenn in many years. In fact, in the dream it took me awhile to even remember her first name.

I admit I had a thing for Ms. Fenn many years ago. I'm sure lots of fellas did. I even watched many a crappy Full Moon movie solely because she was in them. And I'll take this opportunity to apologize for all those "thoughts" I had. Still, I have to wonder, why did I dream of her now? When I'm married, have two kids, and can't watch those booby-filled B Movies anymore? (Because those kids won't leave my side- argh! A man can only take so much Spongebob!)

This morning, I decided to see what Ms. Fenn was up to these days- you know, besides still being one of the most beautiful women ever. She has a blog, and coincidentally, one of her latest posts was about her dreams. Her super-weird dreams. And she smokes pot and drinks too much wine. And had some kind of feud with her mom or something (hey, I was skimming). Glad she can admit it, but man, it really shattered the image I had of her. Well, maybe not- the image I had of her was as she appeared in many of her movies. Not exactly G-rated. And she's married- great, I already feel guilty having a dream like that, what with being married. Now I get to double that.

Clearly, I need to get back to killing xenos and zombies on Xbox live.

Thanks, Ms. Fenn, and best wishes. It was nice seeing you again- even in my own subconscious. Hope things work out with your mom, and you can kick the pot and wine. And again- my apologies for all those x-rated dreams and daydreams.