It's been a fun weekend. You wouldn't think so. I worked both days, I cut the grass, and Lisa and I tackled cleaning the fridge. But I repeat: it was still enjoyable. A large part of that was going AWOL from the computer. I scanned Facebook once in a blue moon, but never for more than a few minutes, and I didn't check my email at all.
Ahhhh. Peace.
It won't last. At Lisa's request, I'm going to briefly return to politics in the next few days and spell out my objections to nationalized health care. That should be fun, dontcha think?
Anyhow, I took the kids to church this weekend, the first Mass that was celebrated by a new priest at the congregation where I was married. During the Mass Smiley fidgeted, asked me questions at full volume, and did his best to drive me batty. Then, the kicker.
During the homily he looked over at me with mischief in his eyes, smiled his Danny/Devil smile, and tossed a missalette into the pew in front of us. I was on him in a nanosecond, and in response he explained himself using an 'outside voice' that could have been heard on the moon.
"JESUS BORING!"
Ugh. Sometimes kids are . . . well, sometimes they're just as frustrating as dealing with grown-ups.
Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Project Runway is Back! And (not) better than ever!
I worked last night but returned home to a heapin' helpin' of Project Runway on my DVR. The verdict? Well, I won't say they've jumped the shark, but I wasn't bowled over by this season's premiere.
"Welcome designers to FIDM, the premier fashion design school . . . in the city."
I caught your jab Mr. Gunn, and I'm with ya. It's a New York show. It just is. Moving it to L.A. makes it seem all the more artificial and forced, and Tim seems especially off-put.
Anyhow, it's a little early to write it off as a lame duck, and far too early to waste much time breaking down the contestants individually. I will say comment on a few of them that played major roles this week.
JOHNNY: Here's a new drinking game, one exclusive to PR. Every time this guy mentions his past addictions, uses it as an excuse to cry like a girl, or says a prayer to Crystal Meth for all the camera time it earns him, chug one down. I'm aware the judges claim to love his ill-fitting, droopy dress, but if they were serious it just means they were sharing the pipe too.
SHIRIN: I'm not even sure I have the right designer, but I *think* Shirin came up with that jacket that flipped down to integrate itself seamlessly with the back of the dress. Nice.
MALVIN: Hmmm. An egotistical adrogonyous designer with zero personality and ho-hum skills. Yuck.
ARI: Her design was crap. She was a flake. She had not a chance in hell of making it to Bryant Park. But I liked her as a contestant and would have enjoyed watching her for a bit more of the season. It's a shame she was sent packing so soon.
MITCHELL: Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have our villian. He presented an unwearable nightgowny piece and blamed it all on the model, saying her measurements differed from her card by five or six inches (depending on when in the program he was asked.) Dude. She's the size of my wrist. There aren't a spare six inches, or four, or two on the woman. If there was a difference, it was not what you advertise it to be, and frankly: even if it was, DEAL. He should have gone bye-bye.
* * * *
Now as for the show after it, "Model Runway", I'll pass. It was nothing more than a waste of my time and offered no insight into the design process. And darlin', can the "I have beauty and brains" bit: you are paid to be tall, and to be skinny. No shame in it, but kindly don't make it out to be rocket science.
Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child
Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child
Publisher: Dell Publishing
Pub. Date: May 19, 2009
ISBN-13: 9780385340571
432pp
British born author Lee Child has enjoyed great success in recent years, allegedly selling a book every second. Child has a natural ability to pen a solid thriller, but make no mistake, his popularity rides squarely on the shoulders of his creation Jack Reacher, an ex-U.S. Army MP turned itinerant traveler and magnet for trouble.
Reacher is well versed in any number of intellectual disciplines, capable of detailed analysis in the blink of an eye, tough enough to put Rambo to shame, enjoys an unhealthy habit of latching onto trouble at the slightest provocation, and possesses a smug certainty in his own abilities.
Frankly, there are times in the series when Reacher is so cookie-cutter perfect you are left (guiltily) hoping that someone - good, bad, or otherwise - finally manages to take him down a notch. Thankfully Gone Tomorrow, the thirteenth and latest installment in the series, is a thriller with enough energy and intelligence to keep those thoughts at bay.
As the book opens, Reacher is the last person to speak to a woman before she abruptly commits suicide aboard a subway car. When it becomes known that she was smuggling sensitive information, info of interest to both a candidate for the Senate and a foreign national, Reacher erroneously becomes the center of attention for both parties. He must sort out friend from foe and not only recover the information, but determine whether its destruction - or release - best serves the nation's interest.
Gone Tomorrow is a revival of first person narrative in the series, and more importantly the welcome return of a definitive 'bad guy' to face down Reacher. A character as iconic and seemingly invincible as Reacher works best when confronted with a strong antagonist, such as Tripwire's delightfully evil Hook Hobie. There's no one in this novel as physically sinister as Hobie, but once the story develops there's no mistaking who's the bad guy and who is not. That itself is a welcome change from Child's recent novels, where he spent nearly as much time vilifying Bush's policies as he did lining up opponents for Reacher.
The plot is solid and easily holds your interest, progressing with such ease that the reader is left pleasantly surprised at how quickly the problem has multiplied. True, the main thrust of the action is the same fodder you'll find in dozens of cheap paperbacks, but Child finesses it with a fine degree of skill that elevates it to something much more.
Child's been quoted as saying (hopefully in jest) that he'll eventually kill off Reacher in a way that leaves no doubt that his famous character is finished once and for all.
If Gone Tomorrow is any indication of the way the series is going, readers will be left hoping that finale is a long way off.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Just a bunch of random junk. And corn dogs.
Less then 24 hours until the new season of Project Runway starts people! Set your DVR's now!
* * * * *
Regarding my Favre post: no, I don't think I was being extreme at all. I don't want the man to literally taste the fires of hell, but he can suck a** if he expects me to think kindly of him. I have respect for what he did on the field for us for more than a decade. But respect for him as a person? Nuh-uh.
Early in the year he says he's done, an outright lie that frees him of his obligation to the Jets. Then he starts his "maybe I'll play" routine. July 28th he retires and says a whole bunch of stuff about how he's done, physically and emotionally.
Then - he alleges - twenty days later the Vikings coach calls him on a whim (on a whim!) and poof! he's a Viking. A man that takes four weeks to decide whether to buy a Snickers or a Milky Way decides on the spot to move his family to Minnesota for six months. He's suited up and on the field within 24 hours.
Gag.
Here's the truth of the matter. He agreed to sign with the Vikings in June or July, (and I'll sell you a bridge if you don't think it's to take a whack at Green Bay.) But signing then meant he'd have to participate in the 2-a-day practices, and that ain't happening.
Soooo . . . he gets special treatment and is allowed to miss that time, but to cover their tracks and preserve the idea that he's not a prima-donna and the coach has control, they play dumb for a month.
As the Journal so eloquently put it: Minnesota, the Ego has landed.
* * * *
My friend Erv is in town and for two nights in a row we've played Halo on his X-Box, and have rescued the captain and are on the hunt. Great game, but I can see why Lisa bans video games from the house. They are addictive and would be a true sore spot in our marriage.
* * * **
I took the baby for her two-year checkup and shots the other day. I remember she weighs 28 pounds, but I forget her height. Anyhow, all is well. They asked me about he appetite and I told them what I wrote on Facebook:
How much can a 20#'er eat? Corn dogs, carrots, a granola bar, some salad, an apple, cereal, waffles . . now she just raided the fridge and brought me a jar of peanut butter and cream cheese. YOU ARE TWO. YOU DO NOT HAVE A TAPEWORM. GO WATCH ELMO. Ugh.
Update: she just walked into the room wearing a bagel on each wrist like they were bracelets.
* * * *
I went to a movie with my cousin Jon, the first time I've seen or spoken to him in more then three years. We were very close friends for a decade. I hope we can regain some of that friendship.
* * * * *
Regarding my Favre post: no, I don't think I was being extreme at all. I don't want the man to literally taste the fires of hell, but he can suck a** if he expects me to think kindly of him. I have respect for what he did on the field for us for more than a decade. But respect for him as a person? Nuh-uh.
Early in the year he says he's done, an outright lie that frees him of his obligation to the Jets. Then he starts his "maybe I'll play" routine. July 28th he retires and says a whole bunch of stuff about how he's done, physically and emotionally.
Then - he alleges - twenty days later the Vikings coach calls him on a whim (on a whim!) and poof! he's a Viking. A man that takes four weeks to decide whether to buy a Snickers or a Milky Way decides on the spot to move his family to Minnesota for six months. He's suited up and on the field within 24 hours.
Gag.
Here's the truth of the matter. He agreed to sign with the Vikings in June or July, (and I'll sell you a bridge if you don't think it's to take a whack at Green Bay.) But signing then meant he'd have to participate in the 2-a-day practices, and that ain't happening.
Soooo . . . he gets special treatment and is allowed to miss that time, but to cover their tracks and preserve the idea that he's not a prima-donna and the coach has control, they play dumb for a month.
As the Journal so eloquently put it: Minnesota, the Ego has landed.
* * * *
My friend Erv is in town and for two nights in a row we've played Halo on his X-Box, and have rescued the captain and are on the hunt. Great game, but I can see why Lisa bans video games from the house. They are addictive and would be a true sore spot in our marriage.
* * * **
I took the baby for her two-year checkup and shots the other day. I remember she weighs 28 pounds, but I forget her height. Anyhow, all is well. They asked me about he appetite and I told them what I wrote on Facebook:
How much can a 20#'er eat? Corn dogs, carrots, a granola bar, some salad, an apple, cereal, waffles . . now she just raided the fridge and brought me a jar of peanut butter and cream cheese. YOU ARE TWO. YOU DO NOT HAVE A TAPEWORM. GO WATCH ELMO. Ugh.
Update: she just walked into the room wearing a bagel on each wrist like they were bracelets.
* * * *
I went to a movie with my cousin Jon, the first time I've seen or spoken to him in more then three years. We were very close friends for a decade. I hope we can regain some of that friendship.
Complete Text of my May 11th column in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel
When you argue against enacting a statewide smoking ban, you're asking for trouble. Sure, the discussion might remain polite, but in some eyes, you become a tool of tobacco companies, a lout who doesn't care about the welfare of our children or a fool oblivious to the rising cost of health care in this country.
None of those labels apply to me - or to 98% of the people opposed to the idea. I know smoking is bad, I know it's addictive and I know it is deadly. In 1987, I watched my paternal grandfather, a lifelong smoker, die a horrible, lingering death from lung cancer. In response, my parents became very anti-smoking, and just as predictably, I then took up the habit. I quit smoking in 2006, and three years on, I'm still not cocky enough to promise that it's a lifelong achievement.
No, I agree with the ban's medical premise. I have two different objections:
I don't think the state has the right to regulate personal choices in the first place. But if you disagree with me and think the ban is important for the public good, then you must be left puzzled by Madison's logic. Smoking is bad, so bad that the state feels compelled to act against it. So do we ban it outright? Do we prohibit the sale of cigarettes inside the state line? Do we at the very least tax it out of existence, instead of keeping smokers on the hook and looking at the vice tax as plain ol' revenue?
No. Instead, Madison puts forth a plan to ban smoking in public, at places like restaurants and taverns. Their good health thus protected, Wisconsinites will be free to consume their nightly beers and buffalo wings in comfort.
To me, it seems like more of a media stunt than honest lawmaking.
More practically, I object to the timing of the bill. Twenty years ago, this would have had a drastic impact on Wisconsin. Now, why bother? In 2005, as a pack-a-day smoker, I took over as general manager of a hotel. One of the first things I did was to eliminate smoking in public areas and the majority of guest rooms. Why? Because it's the 21st century, and the age of the smoker is at an end. It made no financial sense to cater to a market that had been pushed out of existence.
The majority of Wisconsin businesses already have adapted to the times, law or no law. Those proprietors who still allow smoking aren't being stubborn; they know their clientèle, and they know that banning smoking means running the risk of closing their doors for good.
While I'm certain the legislation will pass on Wednesday, I see no point in a law that the market, on its own, has made largely redundant. And in these economic times, I can't fathom a reason to toy with small business owners struggling to weather the storm.
To me, it makes as much sense as lighting up a cigarette in the first place.
None of those labels apply to me - or to 98% of the people opposed to the idea. I know smoking is bad, I know it's addictive and I know it is deadly. In 1987, I watched my paternal grandfather, a lifelong smoker, die a horrible, lingering death from lung cancer. In response, my parents became very anti-smoking, and just as predictably, I then took up the habit. I quit smoking in 2006, and three years on, I'm still not cocky enough to promise that it's a lifelong achievement.
No, I agree with the ban's medical premise. I have two different objections:
I don't think the state has the right to regulate personal choices in the first place. But if you disagree with me and think the ban is important for the public good, then you must be left puzzled by Madison's logic. Smoking is bad, so bad that the state feels compelled to act against it. So do we ban it outright? Do we prohibit the sale of cigarettes inside the state line? Do we at the very least tax it out of existence, instead of keeping smokers on the hook and looking at the vice tax as plain ol' revenue?
No. Instead, Madison puts forth a plan to ban smoking in public, at places like restaurants and taverns. Their good health thus protected, Wisconsinites will be free to consume their nightly beers and buffalo wings in comfort.
To me, it seems like more of a media stunt than honest lawmaking.
More practically, I object to the timing of the bill. Twenty years ago, this would have had a drastic impact on Wisconsin. Now, why bother? In 2005, as a pack-a-day smoker, I took over as general manager of a hotel. One of the first things I did was to eliminate smoking in public areas and the majority of guest rooms. Why? Because it's the 21st century, and the age of the smoker is at an end. It made no financial sense to cater to a market that had been pushed out of existence.
The majority of Wisconsin businesses already have adapted to the times, law or no law. Those proprietors who still allow smoking aren't being stubborn; they know their clientèle, and they know that banning smoking means running the risk of closing their doors for good.
While I'm certain the legislation will pass on Wednesday, I see no point in a law that the market, on its own, has made largely redundant. And in these economic times, I can't fathom a reason to toy with small business owners struggling to weather the storm.
To me, it makes as much sense as lighting up a cigarette in the first place.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
How Hannah Montana taught us about Ozzy Osbourne
When I'm in the car I play a simple game with the kids. When a song comes on the radio, I ask them the name of the artist, and if it's one they're familiar with, the name of the song too. I figure it's never too early to start their pop culture education.
So the other day I was in the car with YaYa when Crazy Train came on. I asked her the name of the artist, and as expected she didn't know. I answered Ozzy Osbourne, figuring tossing in the name Randy Rhodes was probably too much detail. She asked who he was.
"I think you've seen him before," I said. "You know those World of Warcraft commercials where the guy says he's the prince of darkness?"
"No," she said.
I was stumped for a second.
"Wait," she said. "Isn't that the guy on Hannah Montana?"
"What?" I said. I was confused. "No, he isn't on that show."
"Not, like, him, but the guy Jackson dressed up as that one time?"
Jackson, of course, is Hannah Montana/Miley Stewart's brother on the show, played by 32 (!) year old Jason Earles. And sure enough, it came to me: in an episode where Hannah is trying to avoid a music critic, her brother dresses up as Ozzy to distract him.
And you know what? It was a pretty dead-on imitation.
"Yeah, you're right," I said. "He was pretending to be Ozzy. That's the guy."
"Oh," she said. "He seemed cool. He talked funny though"
There you have it. The tools of education are everywhere, even in a ridiculous skit on a Disney Channel sitcom.
So the other day I was in the car with YaYa when Crazy Train came on. I asked her the name of the artist, and as expected she didn't know. I answered Ozzy Osbourne, figuring tossing in the name Randy Rhodes was probably too much detail. She asked who he was.
"I think you've seen him before," I said. "You know those World of Warcraft commercials where the guy says he's the prince of darkness?"
"No," she said.
I was stumped for a second.
"Wait," she said. "Isn't that the guy on Hannah Montana?"
"What?" I said. I was confused. "No, he isn't on that show."
"Not, like, him, but the guy Jackson dressed up as that one time?"
Jackson, of course, is Hannah Montana/Miley Stewart's brother on the show, played by 32 (!) year old Jason Earles. And sure enough, it came to me: in an episode where Hannah is trying to avoid a music critic, her brother dresses up as Ozzy to distract him.
And you know what? It was a pretty dead-on imitation.
"Yeah, you're right," I said. "He was pretending to be Ozzy. That's the guy."
"Oh," she said. "He seemed cool. He talked funny though"
There you have it. The tools of education are everywhere, even in a ridiculous skit on a Disney Channel sitcom.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
What an Ass
When Gov. Jim Doyle announced his retirement a few days ago, he jokingly promised he wouldn't rescind his decision and pull a "Brett Favre".
What's a 'Favre'? This:
The Journal-Sentinel is reporting that Brett Favre will sign with the Vikings today.
I hope the Packers give #4 to the lowliest of lowly punters, from now until the end of time. May you rot in hell Brett Favre. Rot. In. Hell.
Monday, August 17, 2009
From my Mother In Law
The 3's of Me
You've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with the 3's of YOU. At the end choose some people to be tagged. Be sure to tag me. If I tagged you, its because I am interested in learning more about YOU.
(To do this, go to "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 3's of Me, tag 20 people - in the right hand corner of the app then click publish. Or just copy this, paste it, and replace my answers with yours.
Three names I go by:
1. Mom
2.Jeanne
3.Hitler
Three jobs I have had in my life:
1. Tax Auditor
2. Bookkeeper
3. Security Guard
Three places I have lived:
1. Milwaukee, WI
2. Sturgis, MI
3. Greenfield, WI
Three Favorite Drinks
1. Squirt
2. Coffee
3. Ice Tea
Three TV shows I watch:
1.News
2. Mike and Juiliet
3. So you think you can dance
Three places I have been:
1. Salt Lake city, ut
2.Dallas, TX
3. Kansas city Ks
Three People that text me regularly:
1. Danny
2.Lisa
3.??
Three things I want to do:
1. Roller skate at age 70
2. Give money away
3. Be happy and healthy with my family.
Three of my favorite foods:
1. Cheese
2. Pizza
3. Potato Chips
Three friends I think will respond:
1. Elaine
2. Lisa
3. No one
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Our Trip to UWM - pt 3
The university brags that the planetarium shows often sell out, and they encourage you to arrive at least a half hour in advance. Well, after failing to find food we headed over to the science building and waited. And waited. Finally someone showed up to sell tickets, 20 minutes before the show, and we were first in line. But with so much time left I bought the kids some snacks from a vending machine and we headed outside.
Now I don't remember that statue from my years on campus, but of course I could be mistaken. But if I'm right, it's in a sorry state, with chips missing and some of the concrete showing significant wear. Which, as I write this, probably invalidates my memory, no?
Anyhow, the kids held it together.
And YaYa even designed some smiley faces out of stones. Hey, it was a LONG WAIT.
Soon enough it was time for the show.
The professor in charge asked me how I'd learned of the show, and I told her my father had brought me when I was a kid. (I remember listening to Eddie Murphy's Party all the Time and Starship's We Built this City on the way to campus.)
The show itself was nothing to brag about. It was mainly a lecture, with the actual 'stargazing' limited to ten minutes at best. WTF? I noted my complaint on the survey form, but the important thing was the kids held it together for the hour - heck, YaYa even raised her hand and answered a question about constellations.
One great moment tho': when the lights did go down and the stars come out, LuLu gasped and said "Daddy it's beautiful!"
When we got out of the planetarium it was dark, and I drove around looking for a place to eat at least near campus. We eventually settled on a kitchy hamburger joint that has a branch near us.
The kids were tired at this point and ornery, and this was *not* a pleasant meal.
But the food was good . . .
Until I picked up LuLu's last chicken nugget and tore a piece off for myself. It was raw inside. Not 'half-cooked'. RAW. Like, "I just killed and gutted the chicken two minutes ago raw." I of course brought it to the attention of the staff, who reimbursed me the cost of the nuggets and later brought an ice cream sundae out for us.
They were fawning over us, but I set the manager straight: barring Lulu getting sick, this was the last they'd hear from me, so long as the cook would be reprimanded and trained. He agreed and at one point got on his knees to ask forgiveness of my daughter, which was WAAAYYY over the top.
She never had so much as a tummy-ache, by the way.
That ended our night. It was a nice ride home (with the girls singing songs from summer camp) and then on to bed.
A very nice day indeed.
Now I don't remember that statue from my years on campus, but of course I could be mistaken. But if I'm right, it's in a sorry state, with chips missing and some of the concrete showing significant wear. Which, as I write this, probably invalidates my memory, no?
Anyhow, the kids held it together.
And YaYa even designed some smiley faces out of stones. Hey, it was a LONG WAIT.
Soon enough it was time for the show.
The professor in charge asked me how I'd learned of the show, and I told her my father had brought me when I was a kid. (I remember listening to Eddie Murphy's Party all the Time and Starship's We Built this City on the way to campus.)
The show itself was nothing to brag about. It was mainly a lecture, with the actual 'stargazing' limited to ten minutes at best. WTF? I noted my complaint on the survey form, but the important thing was the kids held it together for the hour - heck, YaYa even raised her hand and answered a question about constellations.
One great moment tho': when the lights did go down and the stars come out, LuLu gasped and said "Daddy it's beautiful!"
When we got out of the planetarium it was dark, and I drove around looking for a place to eat at least near campus. We eventually settled on a kitchy hamburger joint that has a branch near us.
The kids were tired at this point and ornery, and this was *not* a pleasant meal.
But the food was good . . .
Until I picked up LuLu's last chicken nugget and tore a piece off for myself. It was raw inside. Not 'half-cooked'. RAW. Like, "I just killed and gutted the chicken two minutes ago raw." I of course brought it to the attention of the staff, who reimbursed me the cost of the nuggets and later brought an ice cream sundae out for us.
They were fawning over us, but I set the manager straight: barring Lulu getting sick, this was the last they'd hear from me, so long as the cook would be reprimanded and trained. He agreed and at one point got on his knees to ask forgiveness of my daughter, which was WAAAYYY over the top.
She never had so much as a tummy-ache, by the way.
That ended our night. It was a nice ride home (with the girls singing songs from summer camp) and then on to bed.
A very nice day indeed.
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