Roaches Anyone?

I don't know what's more creepy. The fact that this man consumes more than 20 roaches in a minute, or those weird fang like things handing down from his upper jaw. I reckon I could insert the standard "British dentistry" joke here, but it just seems gratuitous. Pay attention to the segment's host, who seems genuinely appalled at this stunt. H/T to VlogBlog



Personally, I'd rather be judging this contest, especially if there were a number of contestants in the running. Svetlana Pankratova has legs measuring 51.9 inches long, a world record.

anyone going to the circus parade?

Quote of the Day

LuLu came up to me with her piggy bank in hand. "Daddy, do you and Mommy have lots of money?" she asked.

I was so touched. Clearly she was going to offer us her hard earned nickels. What an angel.

"No honey, we don't," I said.

"Too bad, I do!" she said, and jiggled the bank in front of me before running off laughing.

No, nuke you moron

This is a bumper sticker I photographed (albeit poorly) in Milwaukee.

The car featured your standard issue indie band decals and "Yes We Can!" bumper stickers, along with almost as much rust as my Escort. In case you can't make out the doozy of a slogan in the picture, it reads "Fight Terror. Nuke Israel."

But that doesn't mean the guy is, like, a closet Anti-Semite who hides it under the guise of Leftist ideology. No, not at all.

Just back from the Frolics parade, followed by a little league game. Tired.

Amendment

I'm smart enough to know that what you omit can be almost, if not more, important than what you include. So when my sister chastised me for making her look like a "b---h" in yesterday's post, I told her I'd fix it up a bit.

It happened the way I said it did, word for word. What I did omit was that she herself is a regular lurker on the site (she'd have to be, to catch that post so soon). I guess she was just shocked that it had an audience outside of close friends and family.

* * * *

Because these pics will never appear anywhere otherwise:

Here's a shot of Socialist fixing our toilet, bird extended. It turns out my favorite chair had originally been installed using folded pieces of cardboard to fill gaps around the bolts and seal. That would be the work of the tile guy during the remodel in early '07. It's fixed now, and I thank Socialist for making it so.



A pic of a bird outside my Mom's apartment, one with so little fear of humans it let me close enough to nearly pet it.



Smiley, apparently auditioning for "What Not to Wear"



Here's a Speedway ad. The first few times I saw this I assumed the round circle near his chest, and the subtle shading that created a curve beneath it, were tricks of the light. But nope, they're not. The man in this gas station ad apparently measures a C cup.



A school project of Smiley's, now planted in our lawn.



These are the plants that grew from the bulbs I planted with Faith during the first snowstorm of last winter. Long story.






Here's a makeup happy Elvis, as seen on the side of a local McDonald's.



And that's all folks. Truly memorable pictures, I know.

The last 4th of July post of 2009 :)

With YaYa at the South Shore Frolics fireworks with my sister, I figured it's as good a time as any to finish off our 4th of July recap.

After the ballgame I took everyone to visit my grandma's grave, as it was the 3rd anniversary of her death. On the way we passed the cemetery where my Dad's folks are buried, and since he was in the car and his side of the family usually appears slighted, we stopped to pay our respect there. Both sets of my Dad's grandparents are buried near their children, so we paid a call to their stones as well.

After that it was on to Woods National Cemetary to visit my grandma. Lisa's maternal grandparent's are interned there too, but it was tougher (for me) to find that marker.



Smiley wasn't very careful about observing protocol. While I never stopped chastising him for messing around with other people's stones, I figured none of his great-grandparent's would have minded a bit.



From there we hit Sonic again, since it's only a few minutes from the VA. I'm telling you, that dollar menu rocks.

After they took a nap I rounded the kids up and took them to my parents house for a BBQ.




It was the first time they'd grilled out since they moved, and the first time I had since before we bought our house in late '06.



Believe it or not, it was the first time my Mom had ever ventured out onto her patio.










When we got home from my Mom and Dad's Lisa was just returning home from her trip, and she had a surprise: Fireworks she'd bought in Kansas.

Note: of course, fireworks of any kind are illegal in the city, so these were *pretend* fireworks. Any and all the images you see below are strictly, 100% photoshopped. Honest. ;)











Even my sister got in the act



Lisa had also purchased some bigger (but still small) photoshopped fireworks at a special clearance price.







Afterwards we ate the cake that I had made the night before (and that the kids helped decorate), then headed out to the park for the local fireworks display.



















It really was a heck of a way to spend America's 233rd Birthday!

Smiley says "Thanks Joann!"

Facebook buddy/Slapinions reader Joann sent Smiley a package that arrived today. Here's the video of him opening it, and saying "Thank you!" to his benefactor.



The last I saw of it, he was carrying his new Spongebob slumber bag into his bedroom as he said goodnight.





* * * *

True story: my sister came over and looked at the package from the slumber bag.

"Who do you know in California?" she asked.

I honestly didn't know Joann was from CA before my sister posed the question, but I told her it was a reader from my blog.

"In California?" she asked. She seemed incredulous.

"Yeah."

"Who reads your blog?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Nothing, it's no big deal Danny," she said, then paused. "But why would anyone outside of Milwaukee read your stuff?"

Faith's Graduation

A few weeks ago the oldest daughter of our friend Chris graduated from 6th grade. A ceremony was held in the school auditorium, and me, LuLu and YaYa attended. The pictures sucked, but as I write this I've figured out why: I somehow altered the resolution settings on my phone.





This next one is Faith with her Grandma.



Faith's a good student and took home several deserved awards, but I noticed that the school saturated the kids with certificates and plaques. Unless this was Professor Xavier's school for mutants, there's no way they all kicked butt ala Faith.

To paraphrase the great line in that closet Conservative film, The Incredibles: "Saying everyone is special is just another way of saying no one is."

Anyhow, well done Faith! And good luck in 7th grade!

Why is it . . .

That a cell phone conversation in a public place is a thousand times more infuriating than if the offender was yakking face to face?

The Seance by John Harwood

For much of its length, I was convinced The Seance was one of the best books I'd read in years.

The Seance centers around Wraxford Hall, an abandoned mansion in 19th century England. Many years ago Nell Wraxford fled the mansion and disappeared, leaving behind rumors that she murdered her own infant daughter. Now, a generation later, distant relative Constance Langton has inherited the house. Constance, who has some history of psychic experiences, agrees to have Wraxford Hall examined by professional researchers. But something in Nell's diaries leads her to fear something more than just the proverbial bump in the night.

As I said, for most of the novel the book is superb. Written in different voices, the transitions are seamless and avoid sounding anachronistic. Despite rehashing every B movie staple of Hollywood horror, Harwood manages to integrate it all into a sharp, intelligent and highly entertaining example of the Gothic genre.

And then it all falls apart. I am not sure, even now, if the atrocious finale truly damages the book as much as I believe. It's possible I'm just bitter when I think of how Harwood stood on the precipice of greatness . . . and flinched.

I still recommend highly recommend this book.

MJ's Memorial and related events

Like more than a billion people worldwide, I watched the Michael Jackson memorial service. I thought it was appropriately reverent, classy, and emotional, while also taking care to express and share the joy that echoed through Jackson's music. I won't bother to rehash the event here, because it's just saturating the news (according to foreign clips shown on CNN, it's the 'top story' as far away as India and Hong Kong). I will say it featured a few surprises for me. I didn't realize how important Michael was to the African-American community, or how deeply affection for him ran among their leaders and icons. I didn't think there would come a day when Al Sharpton(!!) would earn praise from me for a rousing and positive eulogy. I certainly didn't think Sharpton would continue to garner accolades from me for his sensible commentary throughout the evening. Nor did I expect the service to end with the Jackson family making sure that, for all the spectacle of the memorial, they held fast to their faith. "The King of Pop must bend his knee to the King of Kings," said their preacher, The Rev. Lucious Smith. And Michael's daughter, wow. Her words brought tears to my eyes, a reaction I think was pretty common. At any rate, what a magnificent send-off. I won't see another funeral like this in my lifetime. There are those who will brush it off with a curt "He doesn't deserve it. It's not like he was a king, or a President who ended world hunger." I don't recall the last time a politician managed to accomplish the latter, but I understand the point. I just disagree. You may be ambivalent towards Jackson, you may dislike him. Either way an incredible amount of people felt the opposite, and where mourning is concerned I choose to be laissez faire. I say allow people to express their grief in whatever positive and healthy way they see fit. And for the record, I think he's a global icon who factors positively into the memories of three generations. The world misses the man. As popular as any President is or has ever been, you can guarantee that a billion people in China and India aren't going to give a damn when he passes away. Personally, I'm grateful for the chance to have witnessed this twelve-day event, and I hope my kids are old enough to remain some memory of it. To see an outpouring of love and respect for anyone is enriching, and the fact that people seem free once again to publicly acknowledge his talent and gifts, well, that's an added bonus. It's just a shame he had to pass away for people to once again show their love. * * * * * If you were paying attention, there were signs everywhere of this funeral's impact on our pop culture.

The woman in the apartment across from my Mom flew to L.A. for the memorial. Although I doubt she had tickets to get into the Staples Center, it was enough for her to be in the city. Another woman she knows holds a season pass for a local water park and attends religiously each day. Today she offered the pass to friends, saying she was going to watch the funeral from beginning to end. A woman at a store was wearing a "King of Pop 1959-2009" shirt as she checked out. At my niece's birthday party, the bowling alley played several MJ songs, and a middle aged man strolled down the hall singing along to "Don't Stop till You Get Enough" At a grocery store, I overheard a woman on her cell phone, vigorously debating what Jackson song was the best.

* * * * * Meanwhile, in my house last week I overheard YaYa calling LuLu over the computer. On Youtube YaYa had pulled up a copy of the Thriller video and was eager to show Lu. At first I was going to stop her as I thought it would scare them, but then I remembered something I hadn't thought about in decades. When I was around YaYa's age I was skating at a local roller rink. An announcement was made, and on a new fangled projection screen the rink played the Thriller video. A hundred kids, white, Hispanic, whatever, gathered around to watch it. Aliens could land on earth and you couldn't get 100 kids to unite and sit still for the news bulletin, but there we all sat, in awe, watching the video beginning to end. So I let them watch it, making sure to tell LuLu it was all fake. Now the kids can recognize most MJ songs by ear, even if they can't always get the title right (although YaYa is trying hard). Their favorite seems to remain Thriller, or what Lu calls "the wolf song". * * * * One last long forgotten MJ memory. When Bad came out my Mom bought us a cassette, then painstakingly sat and dubbed each of us kids a copy on her skinny dual-tape book box. (My Mom, the bootlegger :) Thank God it wasn't a Metallica album) I can still recall how hard it was to fit the track listings on the teeny little lines they printed on the tape inserts. Anyway, thanks Mom. That was sweet of you.

****

Watching/DVR'ing the Michael Jackson memorial service on CNN.

Right now Mariah Carey is peforming "I'll Be There" at the memorial. I don't care what anyone says, NKOTB did a better cover of the song.

Just back from my niece's 13th birthday party. We listened to the rest of the MJ memorial in the car, as V100 was broadcasting it live. (Probably the only time you'll hear me with that on my car stereo :)

The Patrick Cudahy Fire

For those of you in Milwaukee, you have to know the story by now. For those of you who aren't (or if you're one of the kids reading this ten years down the road), here's the scoop:

Cudahy, Wisconsin is a southern suburb of Milwaukee named for Patrick Cudahy, the man whose meat packing plant spurred the suburb's creation. The Patrick Cudahy plant is still in operation there and employs some 1,800 workers, making it an invaluable resource to the community. It stands only a couple miles south of my home.

At around 9:30 PM on Sunday night workers reported smelling smoke in the plant, and firefighters responded to what soon became a ferocious blaze. The fire spread quickly through the 1.4 million square foot plant, exploiting void spaces and other idiosyncrasies that come with a building that's been expanded and remodeled over the course of a 121 year history.

As of 5 p.m, nearly a full day into fighting the blaze, officials estimated it would take as much as another day and a half to extinguish the fire. Because of 177,000 pounds of ammonia stored in the plant, everyone within a mile radius was ordered to evacuate. The border for this evacuation zone fell mere blocks from my sister's apartment.




With 27 fire departments and 130 firefighters on the scene, more than 8 million gallons of water were thrown on the flames in the first sixteen hours. The operation drained the water supply of Cudahy and nearby St. Francis, and by noon the City of Milwaukee had to release some of its water supply in order to continue the effort.

When I showed up to work a co-worker and part-time firefighter for New Berlin (a western suburb) was rushing out the door. He told me he'd been called to relieve some of the exhausted fire crews at the scene. I told him to stay safe and wished him well.

Later, at work there were several customers shopping as a diversion from the fire that threatened their homes and livelihood. I also noticed several livestock trucks on Milwaukee streets, probably deliveries diverted from the plant.



Quite aside from the continued, if diminishing, danger from the fire, this will badly damage the operation of the company itself. 1800 badly needed jobs are now in jeopardy. Not just temporarily - who knows if the plant can ever be repaired, how long the repairs or new construction would take, and if it would be economically feasible at all.

Not that there's ever a good time for a disaster like this, but in this economy, it could be a lethal blow to that community and to those who call it home.

LuLu's New Do

Well, we have our first casualty of my 3 days with the kids. Unused to dealing with curly hair I just combed it a bit and tossed it in a ponytail. By this morning it was a rats nest and Lisa took her to have it cut. LuLu was thrilled, as she's been asking to have it cut short but we vetoed it so as not to start a LuLu/YaYa war.

He's Home

Yay! My son is home. I HATE that he takes a school bus, esp. since his summer speech program is at a diff. school, miles away from the one he knows. If he could say more than a couple dozen words - if he could voice his name and address - I'd feel much better

The School Bus is Late

My son's school bus failed to arrive this morning, Now I have to . . . well, naturally the bus just pulled up, 21 minutes late :)

"Huzzah! " cried the cranks as the muffin nabbed the cloud hunter in the garden

Following the parade we mosied into the park proper, suprisingly just in time to view a recreation of a 1860 era baseball game. I've meant to check out these vintage games in the past, and I was very glad to finally get a chance to see them up close.



The game was hosted and played by the Milwaukee Cream City's (Cream City being Milwaukee's nickname at the turn of the 20th century, a reference to the distinctive color of our brick buildings).





We were early enough to see batting practice, which didn't exactly thrill my troops. Note LuLu's question rougly 47 seconds into this clip.



So my sister took the kids to play on a nearby playground while my Dad and I watched for three or four innings. (the kids returned to watch about two inning into the game)






At its heart it's not all that different than the baseball you know. The fundamental difference seems to be in pitching. There is no mound, and the ball is thrown underhand to the batter. There are no fielding gloves either, a painful experience tempered by a rule that says a "striker" (batter) is out if the ball is caught on the fly or on one bounce. I imagine you see a lot of 'one bounce' outs in lieu of busted fingers.

The child you hear on the clip *isn't* one of mine. BTW, if you can't make out what my Dad says, he's questioning the distance between bases. From my research it's consistent with modern basepaths (90 feet, expressed as 30 yards in vintage literature). They did seem awfully long though.



For most of what I saw of the game the crowd was tenative and disinterested. That changed when a batter skyed a high fly ball to right. The outfielder approached quickly, then slowed down to allow for catching the ball on the bounce. That was his plan anyway. Once it hit the ball had its own ideas and took a wicked hop to the right. The outfielder, still running, took a violent leap to his left and made a spectacular barehanded sliding grab.

"NIIIICE!" I yelled, and the crowd roared appreciately and gave the man a hand.









The verdict? I liked it. Enough to try and find a Facebook page for the team (it doesn't exist yet) and enough to consider heading out to see them again this summer.