Futures Past

For some reason I've never been a fan of short stories. I guess it boils down to liking a little more character exploration, a little more 'long and winding road'of storyline than is typically possible in under 10,000 words.

On the other hand, I love time travel stories. Movies, TV, print; it doesn't matter, I enjoy them all. When I saw a copy of the time travel story collection Futures Past, my love for the genre outweighed my dislike of the format. I couldn't pass it up.

Overall it's an excellent compliation. Not every story met with my undying affection, as some reeked of cliche or a pseudo-literary bent, but most were very enjoyable. A few met with high approval indeed, and I feel them worthy of mention here.

The Only Game in Town by Poul Anderson is a tale of the Time Patrol, a temporal police force that, in this case, is sent to make sure a Mongolian expedition to the as yet-undiscovered Americas meets with a bad end. An excellent read and one that inspired me to pick up more of Anderson's work.

Playing the Game by Jack Dann and Garner Dozois, the editors of the book, is a short tale about a boy who accidentally shifts his existence into a parellel world, and tries, time and again, to right his error.

What Rough Beast a bittersweet tale by Damon Knight - a man has the power to heal others of all ills, one cell at a time. It's more of a curse than a blessing, and he searches time for an era where he can reside in peace

Radiant Doors by Michael Swanwick - a fierce story of an exodus from the future into the present, as a future govenment makes the Nazi horrors look tame.

The Hotel at Harlan's Landing by Kage Baker - more of a horror story than time travel, it tells the story of a battle between angels in a waterfront tavern

Mozart in Mirrorshades by Bruce Sterling and Lewis Shiner. I really enjoyed this one. In the future companies openly raid 'alternate' histories, destroying the 'present' cultures as they loot the era for all its worth. In one such world a young lad named Mozart has his own agenda . . .

Under Siege by George RR Martin. This story concerns a post-nucleaur future that sends folks back in time - via a unique method - to alter the course of history

A very enjoyable book - pick it up if you see a copy.

* * * *

The book inspired me to rent Time Tunnel, the 1960's sci-fi TV show. Awful stuff. Aside from everything else, the very first episode put me off my leaping onto the Titanic. All the world and all of time and you just happen to wind up on a White Star liner in the Atlantic. Lame.

1 star out of 4.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

One of the best memories I have with my father is going to see Raiders of the Lost Ark when I was seven. My parents had already seen it and Dad had left the theater knowing I'd love the film.

We were running late the night we saw it together (arriving just as Indy was brushing off the tarantulas) and as I walked through the backyard on the way out I struggled, as I had all day, to remember the character's name.

"What's this guy's name again?" I asked.

"Indiana Jones," my Dad said, and I scoffed at the silly moniker.

But after we left the theater later that night there was no way, NO WAY I would ever forget Indy's name again. Wow.

I wasn't looking to repeat history with my seven year old YaYa, but she'd heard the story and wanted to see Crystal Skull with me. I rented it and we watched it together recently. I'm a bit sorry we did, as I think it was only a so-so way to introduce a youngin' to the wonder of Indiana Jones.

I'm sure you've heard plenty about the film, good and bad, and I know some folks are quick to defend it by bashing naysayers and writing them off as the same kind of people who ripped the Star Wars prequels.

Well, yeah. After Empire, the SW franchise went to hell. Arguing otherwise doesn't change the facts. Here's another bit of truth: this Indy movie was a mess.

If you don't think about it too hard the plot and the storylines seem only vaguely blurry. If you ponder it for a second, it seems like a dozen ideas were tossed together with very little glue to hold them together, other than a vague tip of the hat to the Indy format.

The religious motifs of the first three films are abandoned here for a UFO conspiracy. Yes, I know UFO's are perfectly in tune with the film's time period (1957). So what? All three of the first films had fantastic elements tied together by the human search for a Higher Power, a deity - mankind's oldest desire. Here the 'higher power' is a very physical, albeit otherworldly set of beings. That takes something away from the film for me.

SPOILERS

Anyone who failed to discern Mutt's parentage evidently never saw a standard issue Movie of the Week, the chase scene was so long and boring it seemed like a joke, not to mention the lame Tarzan ripoff, and large parts of the movie were so over-the-top campy it reeked of Temple of Doom.

1. How do scores of heavily accented Russians manage to wander around McCarthy's America?

2. Why is Indy so cavalier about destroying a perfectly preserved 500 year old corpse?

3. How do any of the events of the movie restore the Dean and Indy to their positions? The whole reason for their dismissal was his association with a traitor. That's still true, and there's no physical proof Indy found anything in the jungle.

4. Speaking of traitors, why does Mac just give up his life so easily in the end?

5. No one else is put off by the idea of Indy basically being a tool of the government for 16, 17 years by that point? What happened to the independent (but patriotic) man who worked for the government only with hesitancy?

6. What happened to the Russian babe? I get that her mind melted, sure, but what a rehash of the end of Raiders.

END OF SPOILERS

I'm going to hear about this one, but I think Harrison Ford looked too damn old to be doing this sctick. Sure, he's in fine shape for his age, and I understand that it's possible to look past a birth date (I'd get in Betty White's Depends if I could, you betcha) but no way Indy's still doing this dance. Uh uh.

Cool parts? Sure. I enjoyed large chunks of the movie (the 'part-time' scene was grand) and it was a fun movie to watch But I think if it didn't have Indiana Jones in the title you're looking at a straight to DVD release, not a blockbuster.

As entertainment 2.8 out of 4. As an Indy flick, 2.5 out of 4. I rank it third best in the franchise, behind Raiders and Crusade.

Fantasy Football - the misery continues

Yup. 3-7. 9th place in a ten team league.

I suck.

At least this past week I lost to the league leader 'Juicy Beavers'.

SlapJacks

Pos Player Actual
QB Peyton Manning
(Ind - QB) 20.77
WR Braylon Edwards
(Cle - WR) 10.40
WR Hines Ward
(Pit - WR) 12.40
WR Santana Moss
(Was - WR) 2.90
RB Jamal Lewis
(Cle - RB) 6.50
RB Derrick Ward
(NYG - RB) 9.50
TE Zach Miller
(Oak - TE) 6.70
K David Akers
(Phi - K) 8.00
DEF Indianapolis
(Ind - DEF) 6.00
Total 83.17

VS. Juicy Beavers


QB Kurt Warner
(Ari - QB) 16.87
WR Roddy White
(Atl - WR) 10.20
WR Brandon Marshall
(Den - WR) 8.90
WR Reggie Wayne
(Ind - WR) 9.00
RB Chris Johnson
(Ten - RB) 8.80
RB Steve Slaton
(Hou - RB) 25.60
TE Dallas Clark
(Ind - TE) 4.40
K Stephen Gostkowski
(NE - K) 13.00
DEF New York
(NYG - DEF) 26.50
Total 123.27

* * * *
For the record, I think the OT scenarios in the NFL suck. Sudden death is stupid, ties are stupid. Play a quarter free-for-all, and if at the end you're still tied then give both teams a single down to drive in a TD from the 1 yard line. No score after all that, then go ahead and declare a tie.

* * * *
Regarding the disputed SD-Pit game (which I did watch): give me a break. The only people upset with the outcome are gamblers, and I'm sick of it. I thought it was pretty classless (although legal) to run in the TD in the first place when the game was over and it meant nothing.

Then to call it a TD, reverse it, announce you think you were wrong by reversing it, and then, THEN follow up with a notion to increase instant replay even more as a result, well that's just smarmy.

Did they or did they not cover the spread SHOULD NEVER BE A CONCERN, VOCALIZED OR INTERNALIZED, OF ANY NFL OFFICIAL ON THE FIELD OR BEHIND A MAHOGANY DESK.

* * *

Aaron Rodgers looked solid this weekend. Here's hoping for more of the same next week.

* * * *
'Wide right' again in Buffalo. What a crappy game. Cleveland - Buffalo is a good reason why the NFL should retain the power to alter the schedule in-season to ensure marquee matchups for their big timeslots.

Buncha random pics

Forgive me if I've posted these before, but I think this is their original 'publication'.

Here's LuLu and YaYa on the first day of the 2008-2009 school year.



And two pictures of Smiley from a 'men only' haircutting salon I took him and his cousin too prior to the start of the school year.





At a pool this summer






My niece and Lump



Lu and YaYa with warpaint on





Lu on her bike



and finally, the patented Nekked baby

Climbing a tree, with unexpected results

The day of the trip to Benihana's YaYa climbed a tree in the park. No biggie, she's done it before.



This time, however, I felt a physical urge, a yearning, to climb one myself. A thousand warning klaxons, all built over the last 34 years to contain and restrict me to what is safe and 'acceptable', rose to scare me off. And they worked. I backed off.

But then I thought on just how often, and it is often, that I found myself in that scenario. Not tree climbing, obviously, but 'not' doing something innocuous that every fiber of my being - save one or two stray Stick in the Mud genes - would like to do.

Big things, like the Nirvana concert I skipped out of sheer . . whatever the hell that rationale was in '93.

Small things, like resisting the urge for a last second dash to the video store before closing.

And things in between - like the tree climbing.

Somewhere inside my head I said 'F it' and started up the trunk. In a few seconds I was ten feet and a few limbs up in the air (I am, as I've mentioned, spry for a large man).



I couldn't believe how easy it was, frankly, how easy it *usually* is for my body to do as my mind instructs, when given the rare opportunity.

All this led to a bit of an internal policy change, one that would soon lead to a positive milestone for my girls in the weeks to come . .

More later . . . .

Two, count 'em TWO, blog awards :)

I have been honored by two different blogs in recent days. First, Ken of Bucko's World nominated me for a Marie Antoinette A Real Person, A Real Award badge.



He wrote

"Dan (a.k.a. Slapinions, can not get much more real than this :o)"

and I thank him kindly.

Next up was Bernadette who nominated me for a Superior Scribbler Award.



She wrote:

3. Slapinions - Have to throw a little testosterone into the mix before flowers and kittens start sprouting up on this entry! Dan is a mid-west father of four who always brings that essential male perspective to child rearing. Always good for a laugh and he regularly posts book and movie reviews. I can't write about him without mentioning our common bonds over football, I even like the guy so much I cut him slack for being a Pack fan ;) Dan is also an excellent writer, the kind that can actually get paid for it.

Three things about Bernie: one, for some reason her blog won't let me even advance to the 'leave a comment' section (AOL problem?), so excuse the lack of a 'thank you' there. Two, 'quarterlifecrysis' was one of the more imaginative blog titles out there and I miss it (or am I remembering wrong?). And three she left a hell of a well-written comment here earlier this week on the evolution post.

* * * *

Now I'm going to BLATANTLY CHEAT and not pay the awards forward. I'm supposed to gather together a list of blogs I feel are worthy of the honor and list them here, BUT:

1. I'm as good with memes as I am with portion control.

2. I'm more of a lurker than a commenter, so these things always look like I'm attempting damage control for 'not visiting'.

3. Someone always gets p.o'd at their exclusion

4. No other blog is as good as mine, so really, it'd just be watering down the value of the award. I kid, I kid.

I say this: take a look at the blogs I have listed on the sidebar, both the ones I inputted and the list of 'followers'. You'll find plenty of worthy writing there. Feel free to skip me and get the ball rolling yourself.

And Ken/Bernie - if this offends you then give me a holler and I'll pull the awards. The honor, as they say, was simply in the nomination :)

Ghost Rider of the South Side

Tuesday's are dance night, with the three oldest kids and Lisa all taking classes out in Brookfield. Normally Lisa's Mom helps out with the transportation but she was sick today and so I came out of the bullpen to save the day.

Unfortunately, my Mom called to say she needed a ride to Urgent Care, having let a tooth infection spread to the point where her visiting nurse feared it would go after her heart. WTF? So my sister K went to the classes with Lisa to keep an eye on the kids while I drove my Mom.

It was actually a pretty good time, aside from all the infection and schtuff. Rare is the conversation with my Mom that isn't a monologue of her day or a ratcheted-down argument, but it happened tonight. No moaning and groaning about her ills - ironic, considering why we were together - and actual give and take.

[When we put our minds to it it was surprising how much of my preschool we could remember, from the sliver I got on the playset and the time I tried rubbing two sticks together to see if it would start a fire, to the upstairs area for 'older' kids and the infamous crush I had on Christy, a young blond teacher that set my heart a'flutter.]

Afterwards I went on a few errands on her behalf and after listening to her marvel at all the 'new stores around', and realizing she spends most of her days inside her bedroom, I decided to take her with me out to Brookfield to pick up the kids.

I guess she enjoyed it, because by the end of the ride she asked me if I'd take her along the next time I would go to the bookstore. So, cool beans and a nice evening with her.

* * * *

On the way home an odd event. My sister C was in the car hitching a ride home when an Alero (sp?) pulled up alongside of my van. It was making an awful noise, part putt-putt, part groan, part the sound of metal tearing. It was unique, I'll give it that.

Eventually the Alero pulled ahead when I was stuck at a light. When I was through the intersection he was about two blocks ahead (this was between 27th and 20th on Oklahoma).

And then, in a flash, the underside of his car was on fire. I do not mean it was sparking or smoking or anything of the kind; I mean it was full on on-fire, with smoke billowing out and flames visible even from that distance. Not a fireball, (let's keep this in perspective) but inevitably well on its way to becoming a burnt-out shell.

The cars around him all pulled to the side of the road. Only he kept going. And going. And going, seemingly oblivious to the fire. I thought about calling 911 but saw another driver bring his phone to his ear. The yahoo was still driving the speed limit, right down the center of the lane as the flames got worse.

"He's going to burn alive," my sister said. "Oh my God, he's actually going to burn."

At which point the kids reacted with terror and screaming. So I floored it, bringing the van up to sixty and laying on the horn. We pulled aside and rolled down the window, screaming 'Fire!' and gesturing to the ground. The driver, a young Hispanic man, continued to bounce merrily to whatever tune was on his radio. When he did see us he reacted in anger, and for a split second I thought 'This moron wants to fight'.

It didn't get that far. Instead he took the next turn without slowing his Ghost Rider self, squealing his tires and hitting the gas. The flames grew larger, but the hell with him. I'd done my part. If he was still truly oblivious to it, then his mind is someplace I'd rather not visit.

It was a good few minutes before the kids calmed down - as I write this YaYa just came downstairs crying and asked to sleep on the couch - and I had to put off questions about what 'Burn alive' means. Bad slip of the tongue there Aunt C.

I told the kids what I believe the truth, however. That somewhere a block or two down the kid recognized what was going on, pulled over, and ditched the car. It'll go down in the books as one more lackadaisical car fire, he'll ride the bus tomorrow, and all will be well with the universe.

* * * * * *

More juicy news from work er, ex-work. Details Friday, after I pick up my final paycheck and the hounds are loosed upon the moor;)

Just a brief Update

It's been an odd few days. Cliche/sexist as it may be, it's true that a man seems defined largely by his job. I am, at times, at a loss as to how to describe myself since the layoff.

Case in point: I ran into my *pre-school* teacher for the first time in 30 years Saturday. She recognized my unusual name and asked me what I 'do' for a living. Uh, yeah, uh, about that . . . I'm kinda between gigs right now. Where the heck was she a week ago?

[true admission: sometimes I think I have largely useless flashes of premonition. The night before, while submitting a resume, a security question asked for the name of my first teacher. Unable to recall the name of my kindergarten teacher [Sr. Pat] I thought back to pre-school and listed 'Penny'. Twelve hours later I saw her for the first time since 1978. That happens to me more often than you'd think.]

[2nd sidenote, this time from the small world department: she works as a teacher at a nearby school and knows our friend Chris' kids]

On the subject of jobs, there's been some progress but I'll not jinx myself by writing about the news. I will say this much - in addition to tomorrow's opportunity I've also lined up an interview for Thursday.

The Journal-Sentinel, btw, has written to say they've accepted one of my columns and will publish it prior to December 19th.

* * *

On a very sweet note, some of my old employees/co-workers are getting together for drinks Wednesday and sent me an invite. :) Lisa works that night, so I'm not sure I can pull it off, but it's a grand gesture and much appreciated.

* * * *

As for the kids: report cards for both girls, including a surprisingly positive one for YaYa. We'd assumed, based on some homework, that she was struggling. The opposite appears to be true. On Saturday she also passed her Red Cross Level One swim test with 'excellent' marks, falling short only in the backstroke.

Lu's report card was more pedestrian, but in the conference the teacher said she'd lowballed the report card and that LuLu was doing great.

The next day Lu was in the kitchen and hit the back of her head against the table as she tumbled from a chair. It bled a decent amount, as scalp cuts are prone to do, and to be safe I took her to the ER for stiches, but none were required. Good thing it happened when I had company over, or I'd have been stuck taking all four kids along with me (Lisa was atwork) instead of leaving the others behind with the makeshift babysitter.

The part that ticked her off the most? The nurses messed up her ponytails while examining the cut. She glared at them until they got the hint and offered to redo both 'tails.

Smiley had a '50's party to celebrate the 50th school day of the year and wore a white T-shirt and cuffed jeans. He had a blast.

The Lump is just darn adorable, and fully mobile, getting up the stairs to the bedrooms with ease. I love skinny bald babies :)

Some people get a tatoo . . .

Some people, when they encounter an unexpected change in their life, deal with it by getting a tattoo, having an affair, finding Jesus, or in any number of ways.

Me? I shaved my goatee.



I'd promised Lisa, oh so many years ago, that I'd consent to shaving it off once every five years. I did it for our wedding, and once around the turn of the century. By my reckoning I was a few years past due and I figured, "What the hell."

I disappeared into the basement bathroom and reappeared with the sudden recollection that the kids' dimpled chins come via my genes.

The kids reacted to the 'new' me with laughter. LuLu fought off her giggles long enough to say 'You're ugly!" (charming girl). YaYa, being a little more couth, said she prefers it this way. Smiley doesn't seem to care but found it funny, and Lump looked confused for a minute before heaving up her shoulders and thinking 'Hey, I'm one. Everything is confusing. Move along.'







I'm not saying I 'hate' my cleanshaven face, but it's been a shock. You'd think a 6'2" 350# man would have known he had a double chin, but I always assumed it was an shadow cast by the beard ;)

Seriously though, I do have girly lips and when I smile I look, Honest to God, like the bleepin' Joker, which is disconcerting to the residents of Gotham.

My skin reacted horribly, not having seen the light of day nor the touch of a razor for nearly a decade, but that'll pass if I keep up the look.







What did Lisa say? She was shocked. She said I looked nice, but that she prefers the goatee.

Will I keep it up? Who knows. We'll wait and see.

Die Mommy Die!

As a sympathetic gesture recently, Lis allowed me to pick out the movie of the night.

Hmmm. I just lost my job . . . what'll hit the spot? Howsabout a movie that recreates the big screen soap operas of the '60's? Only this time, let's have the the main character, a retired movie actress, be played by a man in drag for no particular reason. And, you know what, let's have him, er her, kill her husband with a poisoned suppository the size of a bratwurst. Toss in a promiscuous gay son ("They found me atop the lazy susan in the mathematics department!") and a virgin daughter sexually obsessed with her oblivious father, a movie producer in debt to the mob.

And let's not forget Jason Priestly, playing the resident gigolo who enjoys 'entertaining' the whole family.

Lisa hated it.

I thought it was swell.

I'll admit Aaron Spelling would roll over in his grave if he saw Brendan Walsh frenching a drag queen, but if you can put that aside - and yes, it's hard to forget but try I did - the movie's a hoot.

It's firmly tongue in cheek, and the performance of Charles Busch as Angela Arden was just delightful. His vocal performance alone was worth the rental, with his Joan Crawford by way of Mommie Dearest diction.

And you know the odd thing about this Sundance film festival movie - well, ok, the only thing *not* odd about it? If you take away the drag queen and the LSD trip and scale back the kitsch 80%, then underneath it all you're still left with a pretty decent plot.

If you have a sense of humour and a taste for unconventional films, check it out.

3.0 out of 4, 72 out of 100

My, This Sucks

I lost my job this past Thursday.

It was at the end of the day. The owners' nephew pulled me into the office and with a poorly worded speech, accompanied by (what I hope was) a nervous giggle, said that I was going to be laid off Friday. I could, he assured me, finish the hour left of my day.

Seeing as I was salary, I refused that generous offer.

It's not that I didn't see this coming. Things got goofy fast recently.
Lisa had predicted this, saying they'd have me do their dirty work by laying off much of the staff and then can me in the end.

Well by this week there wasn't much of a staff left to lay off - 3rd shift had been gouged (infuriating me, as I believe it to be a safety concern), the day shifts were barren, our most populated department was down to five workers, and an entire department was 'replaced' with the nephew.

This week staff was instructed to train 'visiting' members of the owner's family -'visitors' who will no doubt take their jobs. I equate this training with being forced to teach someone how to properly F your wife.

In the infamous words of one employee, who once welcomed the regime change, "I never thought it could be worse. I thought it'd be all unicorns and rainbows. But this . . man they actually make me miss [the old owners]."

So I made sure my personal effects were out of my desk, I'd taken home some of my business cards as 'souvenirs' and I'd put my resume out there - all long weeks before I was let go.

Let's not sugarcoat this: this sucks. I put in ten years and was kicked to the curb on the eve of the holidays. What savings I had were severely dented by helping my family during and after their recent move, and severance - what severance?

So the future holds . . bills and no paycheck to pay them. Other than that, who knows? It's damn frightening.

I suppose it'd be nice to stay within the industry, but the track record of the X is certainly not something to highlight on a resume. [Then again, I think most of the industry knows of the goings on within the place].

If I was to stay in the biz I would like the luxury of, say, an actual budget that doesn't change on a whim, some coherent marketing strategies, honest ownership, and either a solid physical structure or the actual means of recreating one.

But I think it's time to move on, to try something else for a change. I spent the day Friday sending out resumes and was rewarded with a quick call-back from one place, with an interview scheduled for Wednesday. Wish me luck.

There are positives to this whole deal. A) I don't have to worry about working this weekend and B) when an employee (who hadn't gotten the message about my layoff) called to complain about his schedule I was able to respond with a 'click'.

Seriously tho, I'm relived to be out of there. I HATED having my name all over a place that was falling short on customer service and product quality. I hated having to constantly use the owners wishes as a crutch when I had to explain why we did things - or failed to do things - a certain way, knowing that it made me sound like a weak and excuse ridden fool. And I'm sure this next part would hold true no matter where I'd worked, but I'm happy to be, at least momentarily, relieved of having to be ultimately responsible for everything.

It had become, on its best days, a toxic and unhappy place and it is refreshing to think/hope/pray I will soon work someplace with a different aura.

Better days, folks, better days.

It's the economy stupid

I'm old enough to recognize that even Chicken Little, if he sticks to the script, will one day turn out to be right. That doesn't make him a genius, that makes him a patient card player with a lot of time on his hands.

But I think Peter Schiff believed his dire predictions about the stock market and the housing boom were accurate, which of course they proved to be.

Of far more interest in these clips is the pie-in-the-sky predictions of the other panelists, some of whom literally laugh at the man and ask if he wants a razor blade (to cut his wrists) as they discount his warnings.

It's a ten minute clip, but three or four minutes of it will give you the gist.



Good bleepin' luck trying to change the tune mid-dance or convince people a downturn is ahead. Human nature is just dead set against that thinking when all seems well. You'd have better luck telling Romeo Juliet's slept around - it just plain can't be done.

For this reason I think recessions and downturns are inevitable. Even if a government had the power to stop these natural ebb and flows of the economy, the government of a Republic can't - or more honestly, won't - risk the wrath of the public by denying them their illusions.



hat tip

A marker, a crib, and Superman underwear

When we checked on the baby after a nap recently we found Smiley asleep in her crib. He'd dumped a number of spare blankets and pillows inside. He also, as you can see, decided to decorate the baby with Magic Marker.

The bedding ticked me off the most, because if Lump had put two and two together she would have been able to use it to climb out on her own.

Quite a pair, those two, and surprisingly quiet when they're up to no good.

Some pics, and some memories

I was sorting through some pictures I took this fall and came across a few from the rummage sale that preceded the sale of my parents home.

This is one of two clocks I made for Christmas sometime between 5th and 8th grade. One in the shape of our beagle Duke went to my sister C; this one went to K. I drew the designs myself, which is a miracle because I can't draw worth a damn. I cut them out on a band saw, painted and varnished them, and installed the clock mechanisms (which never worked very well).



These next two are pictures of my childhood bike, a Schwinn Stingray II in green and gold. I picked it out because it reminded me of the Green Bay Packers.





This next one is current, a shot of a do-it-yourself DVD vending machine in a local store. They've popped up here and there, and they remind me of a clunky Beta (?) video vending machine from the Sun Foods of my youth.



Here's Smiley at the rummage sale:



and here he is swimming another day:



and the prettiest pic for last. The beautiful Lump:

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed

In a revolting sign of how contentions the debate is, I feel compelled to state the following or risk people plugging their ears and chanting 'I can't hear you! before I even get a word in.

I am not, by definition, a creationist.

I am and was educated Catholic, and even in the 'once upon a time' of the Reagan era the Catholic schools I attended said, in summary: God created the universe, and how He decided to go about doing it is neither here nor there, but for the record it looks like evolution was His sub-contractor of choice.

It was not, so much as I remember, even a bothersome issue in my circles.

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is a documentary narrated and starring Ben Stein that sets forth to discuss the perceived discrimination against Intelligent Design proponents in academia.

Let's discuss this in stages. First, as a movie Expelled is pretty interesting, largely due to Stein himself. If you can separate yourself from the issues involved, by all means go ahead and rent it.

As to the structure of the film, and the development of the argument it presents, it's all over the board. It begins as a film, as I said, about the discrimination against pro-ID academics at the collegiate and professional level. Up to this point, it's on target.

Then it wanders off and morphs (not evolves; I'll spare you that linguistic snarkiness) into an anti-Darwin film, meaning both the theory and the man himself. This culminates in an odd segment openly equating Darwin with Nazi Germany, most of it filmed on site in Germany.

It then takes another turn and engages atheism in science head-on, before returning to the original intent to close the film.

Separating myself completely from the issue and just discussing the structure of the argument, I have to say it's a mish-mosh and could have used a strong hand at the keyboard.

Now, on to the bread and butter, the issue itself.

If you go into it believing in a strict interpretation of Genesis, that's what you'll leave with; if you go in thinking Darwin is the be-all and end-all, that's how you'll finish the day.

I still believe in God, I still think He created the world, I still walk away thinking that every new scientific discovery reinforces God's presence rather than diminishes it, and I still think that by and large evolution is a viable theory.

It's essentially a movie that reinforces the status-quo across the board.

I was alarmed at how openly hostile and aggressive the scientific community was on screen; if nothing else people, you are on camera, smile and play nice. Sadly, it appears everyone's beliefs are sacred, so long as those beliefs are not overtly Conservative Christian and not held by people who are.

[Which reminds me of a counter-argument I read somewhere, specific to the film. Refuting the claim that scientists are largely atheist by quoting a stat that says 40% of scientists think there 'could be some kind' of higher power is not a winner. For Pete's sake, Science, get a good PR person]

On the other hand, the Hitler/Darwin connection was just asinine. You're right, without some misguided idea of genetic superiority it wouldn't have happened. But that's not Darwin's problem. Natural selection didn't start with his ideas, humans have always bred farm stock - and royalty - for 'ideal' characteristics. The notion was hardly dependent upon Charlie.

Now if you're to debate the stated intent of the piece, then I think Stein has a point. I do not see a way a discussion of ID can find itself into the elementary or high school classroom short of a philosophy class. But on the collegiate level I think all bets are off and it could be a subject of discussion..

It's no use trying to convince me it has no place there. True, I attended only a handful of science courses in college, but in every subject area free debate - well, 'free' if you mean one sided and out of the prof's mouth - ran wild.

I sat through classes where prof's tried to tell the class that Homosexual Native Americans had divine-like powers, that every single idea about teaching held by the public was wrong, and where I was told that grand conspiracies intertwined their way through American history. In my academic career you'll find a teacher who preached that she was the reincarnation of Anne Boleyn, and a state-sponsored speaker who spent the hour telling the assembly that Black males had created the Pyramids, had fantastic empires that employed long-lost technology, and possibly had visits from other-worldly intelligences, all facts 'suppressed' by the white man.

If nowhere else in the world, college should be the place to express ideas. Bring it up, debate it, shoot it down, all in the course of one hour. But if it's out there, why try to suppress it?

As a film, 2.9 out of 4. As an organized argument, 1.75 out of 4. As a springboard to debate, 4 out of 4.

A rare quiz and some Jimmy Page too!

I don't 'meme', but feel free to take the nifty little quiz that rides the end of this graphic. It features a series of multiple choice questions on the subjects listed: art, philosophy, history, etc.

Afterwards, sit back and enjoy the sounds of Led Zeppelin performing 'Fool in the Rain'. As a big Zep fan I consider this my personal favorite among their songs; yes, even more than Kashmir, Stairway to Heaven, Heartbreaker, and the more traditional playlist. I heard it on the radio last night and it cheered me up considerably. Good ol' Zep :)

There Are 0 Gaps in Your Knowledge

Where you have gaps in your knowledge: No Gaps! Where you don't have gaps in your knowledge: Philosophy Religion Economics Literature History Science Art

Do You Have Gaps in Your Knowledge?

BTW - any tour without Plant is a tour without Zeppelin, so far as I'm concerned. I'm all for Jason Bonham sitting in for his father, but Plant's absence is a bridge too far.

Phantom Prey by John Sandford

Sometimes an author is like an ex-girlfriend. You don't actually go out of the way to avoid her at the market, but you don't actively seek her out either. And then you bump into one another and you're floored by how great she is and you wonder why you split up in the first place.

That's the case with John Sanford, an author I've always liked but sometimes hesitate to read, for reason or reasons unknown to my conscious self.

In the case of Phantom Prey I must have kept the book on the shelf for two weeks or more, and when I finished it I spent an equal amount of time kicking myself for the delay.

Phantom Prey features Lucas Davenport, who at the request of his wife investigates the disappearance of a young woman. At the same time the woman's friends, all members of the Goth community, are being stalked and killed by a woman known as 'The Fairy'.

It's a fine story, well plotted and not as predictable as many mystery novels. While I think you'll reason out the killer's identity, there will be 25% of your brain that remains unsure, just enough to keep the juices flowing.

The plot is almost secondary, because what sets Sandford apart is his style.
Sandford has a knack for telling a story in little clusters of scenes that move the story forward in rapid fashion, while never skimping on what's important or dwelling on the insignificant. His characters come off as real; nowadays Davenport is far more concerned with coming home to his wife and kids and arguing about furniture than he is kicking the tar out of someone. He'll have bouts of work-related depression, but you won't find him hitting the bottle or spending chapter after chapter moaning about the human condition.

Phantom Prey is an enjoyable, easy read that serves to bolster Sandford's reputation even higher.

Highly recommended.

3.25 out of 4, 84 out of 100

In which I go into far too much detail about stuff you don't care about

Getting my picture taken for the paper turned out to be very anti-climactic. I went downtown, found parking directly in front of the Journal-Sentinel's photo lab door, and went inside. There was no wait and I was quickly taken in back and given the option of sprucing up in front of a mirror. I'd been told to wear 'whatever' because the shot would be from the shoulders up, and so I wore a simple tan v-neck pullover and jeans.

I was instructed to have a seat on a stool in a very dark room, and for the duration of the shot the photographer moved around like a 3D silhouette, fully visible only in the brief flashes from his camera.

I joked that this was 'way darker than Sears Portrait Studios' and he smirked and briefly explained the technical reasons why this technique was superior. I didn't really pay attention, I'm afraid, but I was intrigued to discover the reason they took pictures from so many different angles.

It wasn't to find my 'better side' but to make sure that if, say, my column runs on the far right of the page they'll be able to go with a shot of me looking to the left, so that my pic doesn't give the impression that I'm staring off the page into space.

Neat.

Then I had to sign a freelance contract with the paper. This isn't the real deal, but a copy I asked to keep for my (online) scrapbook, which I'm sure made me sound like a real pro.



I was in and out in under five minutes, which was a horrible waste of all the change I'd plugged in the meter.

All in all, I didn't enjoy it, and I certainly wasn't 'on' because I'm just very down lately. Issues with my parents/siblings, a financial crunch on the horizon, some squabbles at home, the bombshell today that my insurance might have been mistakenly cancelled, and my typical reaction to stress - eating - have all contributed to the blues.

On that last part, I think I've put on around ten to fifteen pounds in the last few weeks, enough to make some of my shirts snug. It's depressing. I don't mind being fat, so much as I hate being fat enough to want to jump off a bridge. The winter worries me too. I've been riding my bike regularly - I am in awe of how large I'd have become recently without it - but with winter here I'm scrambling for an activity to take its place.

One good thing: the difference in my fitness level between July and now is noticeable. On one of the last trips I recreated a two-mile ride I took with YaYa when I first bought the bike. At that time I huffed and puffed and had to stop often to complete what I felt was an 'accomplishment'. This time out I did it with two kids in the trailer behind me, added on some extra mileage, and still finished in a considerably shorter amount of time, with only a single stop (to 'rescue' a katydid from the sidewalk ,at YaYa's request, and deliver it to a grassy hill across the street).

So it did some good.

Argh, I have to cheer up soon. It's not right to be this handsome and wear a frown. It just doesn't look right to my fans.


- Dan

Smiley meets Spongebob Squarepants!

Last Saturday, in the midst of our shopping trip, we discovered Spongebob Squarepants was visiting our local WalMart. Once upon a time YaYa was a big fan. She has since toned it down to 'casual fan', but Smiley has gladly taken up the baton. When the show comes on you can hear him trying to sing along to the theme song at the top of his voice, and for the longest time one of his only successful phrases was 'punge-ob', which even now he'll yell out with glee.







[note: wow. I guess, seeing the results above, that I'll now email my pics directly to Photobucket from my phone. They turn out much better.]



** * *

That day was also the end of the summer-like conditions that had lingered into November. The Lump is notorious for hating any and all hats/hoods/hair doodads/etc, and so we had to splurge and get a Lump-proof hat to keep her warm.



By the end of the day she'd discovered a way to pull it off. Serves us right for thinking we could outsmart a baby.

Slapinions 4th anniversary, the Jonas Brothers, Texas Tech, Fantasy Football, and more

Lo and behold, the 4th anniversary of this blog came and went the other day and I didn't even post about it. How 'bout that?

* * * *

While I refuse to officially surrender I think I'm about done in my fantasy league. I took another rough loss this past week thanks to Maurice Jones-Drew, dropping me to 3-6 and 9th place in the league. That just doesn't = playoff contender.

Bay View SlapJacks 3-6-VS. pull my finger 5-4-0

Pos Player Actual
QB Peyton Manning
(Ind - QB) 23.00
WR Braylon Edwards
(Cle - WR) 1.50
WR Hines Ward
(Pit - WR) 11.60
WR Marvin Harrison
(Ind - WR) 3.70
RB Jamal Lewis
(Cle - RB) 16.40
RB Kevin Faulk
(NE - RB) 1.80
TE Zach Miller
(Oak - TE) 4.20
K David Akers
(Phi - K) 7.00
DEF Indianapolis
(Ind - DEF) 16.00
Total 85.20

Pos PlayerActual
QB Chad Pennington
(Mia - QB) 10.07
WR Andre Johnson
(Hou - WR) 6.60
WR Dwayne Bowe
(KC - WR) 7.20
WR Plaxico Burress
(NYG - WR) 9.70
RB Ronnie Brown
(Mia - RB) 14.60
RB Maurice Jones-Drew
(Jac - RB) 33.10
TE Owen Daniels
(Hou - TE) 1.30
K Jason Elam
(Atl - K) 10.00
DEF Tennessee
(Ten - DEF) 13.00
Total 105.57

* * * *

I've watched Texas Tech two weeks in a row and count me impressed. An Alabama-Texas Tech BCS title game would be a fun evening.

* * * *

Work sucks.

* * * *

Sunday was a pretty lousy day. After all that trouble over the baptism certificate we overslept and missed YaYa's religion class ["Why didn't you set an alarm?!" Lisa said. "I didn't think we need one. When's the last time anyone in this house slept past eight?"]

The Journal's print edition ran with the crappy blurb. I was so annoyed I wanted to throw out the clipping but LuLu, of all people, strongly objected. She seems very proud of me. Meanwhile, not so much as a peep from my family about the (admittedly ick) appearance. But, to be fair, I'm irked at them and therefore probably blowing their silence out of proportion.

My Godmother's husband did see it and wrote to wish me well.

[Today I go to have my picture taken and to sign the freelance agreement.]

Then, in the evening Lisa reported that her purse and keys had been stolen from a locker at work. At the end of the day they were found in another woman's locker, but I'm told it was all innocent and so . . .ok. I'm just happy it was found.

* * *
YaYa's becoming a fan of the Jonas Brothers. Track 2 is ok, but track 5, 'Lovebug' is pretty damn good. Catchy, nostalgic, and unique while still recognizable.

Man, even the happy clouds have gray linings :)

I just caught the first (online) version of the article announcing the new group of Journal-Sentinel guest columnists. My blurb is the same short, stiff, and awful sentence they originally proposed. I quote:

Daniel Slap-, 34, of Milwaukee manages [recacted]. He is married.

Gee-zeus, just write 'Dan Slap is a bore' why don't you?

They said if anyone submitted an alternate version by Friday morning it would be changed. I sent mine Thursay. I presented two options:

Dan Slap-, 34, of Milwaukee, is a [x] manager and the father of four children age seven and under.

And the more snarky, wise-ass Dan you know and tolerate:

Dan Slap-, 34, of Milwaukee, is a [x] manager and the father of four children age seven and under. A blogger for many years, his wife would like to point out that the time he devotes to his writing 'career' is mainly just an excuse to avoid changing diapers.

Obviously, I'm being a primadonna here. Just as obvious, I'm annoyed. Maybe this was an early draft, and the print version will be updated? Maybe? Do ya think?

The rest of my Saturday, or the Quest for the Certificate

YaYa is in need of a certified copy of her baptismal certificate to continue with her First Communion classes, and I've put it somewhere so 'safe' I can't find it.

No problem. Just call the church and get a copy, right? Wrong. The church, where my parents and I were married and where YaYa was baptized, but which I no longer attend, can't locate ANY records related to YaYa.

I think the confusion stems from the fact that I bypassed the then-current pastor (with his approval) and had Fr. Frank Yaniak conduct the ceremony. He was a classmate of my Grandma, had given Last Rites to my Big Grandpa, and conducted our wedding ceremony He was a great guy and we'd become friendly over the years.

Although ill he came out of retirement for the baptism, but at that point he would have had to rely on the parish, not himself, to officially record the event.
Apparently that didn't happen.

So what we did is have YaYa and I, with our scrapbook of baptism photos and some mementos of the day, go to the evening mass. Afterwards we approached a parish official with the evidence, I turned on some charm and threw in my family connection to the church (dating back four generations), and was told to go to the rectory in ten minutes.

There we met with three parish officials and the current priest. I was shown all the records and yup, we aren't in there. They looked at the photos and clearly believed me. I got the makeshift certificate, which solves the immediate problem, but I do want this resolved. You can think it a small or foolish thing, but such a gaffe in the record can follow her through her life.

"I better check to see if my wedding is recorded," I told the room. "I'd hate to know I wasn't really married. Then again, maybe I'd hate to learn I was."

That brought some laughs, I shook some hands, and the priest gave YaYa some chocolates and she expressed her thanks.

But I must say being back there brought up some nostalgia. I liked the church, which is almost Puritan in it's simplicity (esp. for a hardcore Catholic congregation) and my family goes back a long way with the place. Really, it was just the priest who took over from Yaniak that pushed me out the door.

I'll hold my tongue because I do respect the office, but that guy . . was not someone I'd have a beer with. I once praised a Korean priest that gave an eloquent and intelligent sermon the Sunday after 9/11, and the parish priest contemptuously implied I was a racist by referencing him as 'the Korean priest' instead of his name. I, uh, didn't know his name that first day, you [bleep].

In the intervening years the church kicked him to the curb. That 'Korean' priest is now in charge of the Parish and the man I shook hands with tonight. But I'd already jumped ship and never returned.

I don't broker much crap about the Catholic Church for many reasons, but I've been lucky in that I can name two priests as men I respect, admire, and call 'friend'. I'm glad to see my original parish is now in the hands of a man who, in another set of circumstance, could have joined that group.

My weekend to date, pt. 1

It's been a chaotic couple of days around here. Yesterday we had a fire at work. No one was hurt, but as a result we physically lost a department. We were going to consolidate it anyway, given the economic climate, but fire damage and a good soaking from the sprinkler system sped up the process.

I'd have been there to help find the fire sprinkler shutoff valve, as I was the only person still employed who knew where it was, but I had to cover an evening shift of someone I'd laid off. When the call came I was in my skivvies at home.

This morning I took LuLu and YaYa to swim class. Lu refuses to put her face in the water. The teacher says she has 'wonderful skill's but needs to overcome her distaste for going underwater. She better get over it because next week is the test to advance to the next level.

Afterwards, while YaYa was swimming I headed to Home Depot to buy a lock for her door. Her room has been ravaged by Smiley nearly every school day. The latest attack led to ripped up Junie B. Jones books and a cross newly painted in silver nailpolish. That cross was a gift from my deceased grandma, and I was P.O'd. He's a demon at times.

On the way back I was pulled over by a cop and slapped with the first speeding ticket of my life, a 4 pt. $80 ticket for going 15 over. Whatever. I'm sure I was above the speed limit, but if I was 'really' going fifteen over than the cars around me were going twenty.

It reminded me of something my Big Grandpa once said. He'd been pulled over for speeding and complained that he was the slowest of the pack of cars on the highway. "I know," the cop said. "You were the easiest to catch."

What annoyed me the most was the length of time this all took. I sat for awhile, made a phone call, read more than a chapter of a book, and made another call. C'mon -my plates are clean, my record is clean. You can hop online in a second and find out how tall Charlemagne was but you can't deduce in twenty minutes whether or not I'm a Gambino hit man?

I'm not as irked as I sound, as I reckon I was due. But not only did the cop sit there with lights ablazin' the whole time, a second squad arrived to back him up after I'd been there ten minutes, which is just downright embarrassing when you're sitting only a block from home.

I'm pleading not guilty and we'll hammer it out in court.

* * * *

Then it was trips to The Salvation Army, Sam's Club, WalMart, and Aldi's with the family. Man, that list makes us seem trailer poor, doesn't it? Not a horrible way to spend an afternoon, but not exactly dinner and a movie.

Quote of the Day

Yesterday Smiley trapped the Lump in the corner of the dining room, using the high chair and a sheet to make a tent of his own. Lump, although untouched and in no danger, was screaming to escape. I came into the room and lifted her into the clear. I then turned to Smiley and said, in a mock scolding voice: "Nobody puts Baby in the Corner!"

Lisa started laughing, and realizing I had planned my words from the moment she cried she said, simply, "Dork."

Quarantine

I can barely put into words what a waste of money it was seeing this movie, especially since it was only our second movie of the year and our anniversary to boot. [we went to a late show, after trick-or-treat]

It wasn't as dramatic a disappointment as The Happening, as I went into it expecting only a solid horror flick, not a piece of pop art. Still, I found it lacking on a number of levels.

Zombies hold a special place in my heart. They aren't vampires, the pitiful Freudian refuge of the sexually repressed, or werewolves, which in the best of stories still come across as a silly Old World superstition. If you do it right, zombies can be a frightening stand-in for our paranoid fear that society is crumbling. They are a glaring affront to the reality that we hold dear, one that always, always leads to the collapse of social roles and in the end, inevitably, civilization.

Plus they eat people.

None of the deep stuff takes place here. In the movie, shot first-person Blair Witch style, a television crew is trapped inside an apartment building newly quarantined by the government. Inside a sinister new virus is loose, transforming victims into pseudo-zombies and picking off the group one by one.

It's as dumb as it sounds. The sub par acting does nothing to make us forget ridiculous affronts to commonsense. I don't view these as spoilers, but just in case close your eyes:

* a woman is drooling foam and incoherent. Another woman did this and ate someone. So what do the heroes do? They act ignorant of the prior scene and gingerly help her to 'safety'.

* Contagious, fatal disease? Why, let's force everyone out of their apartments and into a common area, just so the illness can spread faster.

* Why would you think a french door could keep out a rabid zombie?

* If you beat someone to death with a camera, would it really keep working?

And so on.

Many of the complaints online about the movie stem from the camerawork, but the herky-jerky style didn't bother me. No, but the technique's limitations irk me. No one person can be at the center of every action, particularly when it all takes place in a large building. But it's necessary to advance the plot, and so the filmmakers force the camera into places it would not realistically be, and it rings false to the viewer.

Like I said, a waste of time.

1.75 out of 4, 45 out of 100.