Cheers!

I watched it: “The speech.” Obama is the talented orator that was advertised. Did you see the ladies in the audience crying? It was like Elvis or the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. Ridiculous.

You know, I’m genuinely happy that a person of color has been nominated. I’m also happy McCain named Gov. Palin from Alaska as his running mate. We have both a person of color and a woman running vying for the office of the Executive. Let’s face facts people, despite the very loud protests of some to the contrary, there was a time when they would never have been considered for the job just because of who they were. That’s shameful and embarrassing. It’s about time. Honestly.

We’ve all bought tickets to equality-palooza this year. Everyone’s dancing, flirting, and carrying on, generally trying to act like we’ve been coming to this party every year, yet embarrassed and tentative because it’s all so new. It’s like a junior high dance. No one wants to be the first on the floor, but they don’t want to get caught on a slow song without a partner either.

Now, my hope is that we don’t make decisions about who should lead the country because they can make women faint and the mere sight of them. It is also my sincere hope that we don’t make decisions as to who should lead the country while we’re buzzed from drinking from the punch bowl of social progress.

So as I tip my glass and celebrate with the rest of us on our growth as a nation, here’s hoping we cut through the crap and vote the best person for the job into office.

Happy Holidays

Chris and I did our annual Labor Day show a little early this year. Brought the house down. Enjoy .

Same Song, Different Verse, Not the Same Singer

I don’t really listen to KLOVE much. I know, hate me if you must. Honestly, I like Casting Crowns, Jeremy Camp, Chris Tomlin, and Mercy Me. It’s just that hearing their music twice every 15 minutes on the KLOVE rotation wears me out after a little while.

Now, from the perspective of a so called student of songwriting, that’s probably not the best strategy. Sort of like The GAP developing a new clothing line by first sticking their head in the sand for 10 years. Maybe not the best way to get a feel for what’s selling. So, I’ll admit that I might be a bit out of touch with whose new and hot out there on the Christian Music landscape.

But…the other night I turned it on. I hear a male voice that sounds very, very familiar to me. The more I listen, the more I get excited. My goodness, that's a guy I met at Write About Jesus last year. That’s Sean Smith. He’s on the radio. Holy Cow! I proceeded to call him on his cell to congratulate him.

No. Not so much. That’s Chris Sligh, not Sean Smith. Right. Close your eyes people and listen to the two of them. Anyone could have made that mistake.

Well, maybe not anyone. I certainly would. See, gentle readers, I’m good for one of those, sometimes two, a year. Oh yes. I’m firmly entrenched in the camp that learning from previous mistakes is highly overrated. No sense in slowing down just a wee bit and engaging the brain prior to the mouth. So sir. Not for me. I invite you to experience dorkiness like that. I love it so much, I bought the company.

So, go here and pick up Sean’s CD “Real”. You’ll understand I’m not a complete idiot, although I can see from here...

Ogre, Party of One

I made a kid cry yesterday at football practice. Not just cry, but the kind of snot down the nose-run to his mommy-type of cry.

For those that know me, you know I'm such an imposing figure. All my days in the marching band and show choir are now paying divdends...such an intimidator.

Big, Big Show

If you’re anywhere in or around Kansas City on September 19th at 7:30, be sure to stop by and see Chris.

He’s been working on this project for a while. It will be a fun evening.

Blank Scratch Pad

Ever been to Texas? It’s like this whole other country. The speak the same language, albeit with a clearly identifiable twang, they look like us, they dress like us, yet they’re different some how.

My path to Texas last week was anything but direct. I thought for sure there would be blog worthy material in all the connections, crowded airplanes, lonely rental car counters, and late night hotel check-ins. But alas, as they say in the lit programs at Harvard and Yale, I gots nothing.

Routine. Alarmingly routine. When things go the way they should, I start waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to blow up, for some crisis to develop. When it doesn’t materialize, I’m at a loss for what to do.

Plainly stated, I require lunacy. I crave the bizarre, the ridiculous, the absurd. Sans the silliness, I’m left with nothing to do but laugh at myself, which, an immeasureable supply of prime material notwithstanding, is a spectator sport that has long since lost it’s appeal. I much prefer to drink from the never ending fount that are the foibles and miss-deeds of those around me. Good times indeed.

Fear not. For as the world turns, it will most assuredly spin up someone willing to stick they’re tongue to the frozen flag pole of life. When they do, I shall be there to document it, in all its glory, giving thanks for the muse, the inspiration, and most importantly, that it wasn’t me that got caught…

Someone's Been To My Hometown...

OK gentle readers, this is a good one.

There’s real truth in the sarcasm, and the dichotomy in the language used by the author versus the subject matter is note worthy. Any piece that uses words “gravitas” and “cachet” to discuss red-necks deserves to be read.

http://stuffwhitetrashpeoplelike.blogspot.com/2008/03/1-having-fiancee.html

Pitbull puppies...that is so right on!

Reason #226 Why Salespeople Get a Bad Rap

Like a lot of other companies, we used a third party to create our web site. The same vendor is also responsible for web maintenance and search engine optimization. Our web site worked just fine all last week until Thursday. The troubles with our site just so happened to coincide with our vendor doing a video upload. New video goes up, site goes down. Not hard to slueth out.

Web site was down all Friday, all weekend, and most of today. We’re just now getting things back on-line.

I didn’t send any kind of nasty-grams, not one fired-up e-mail, not so much as a peep from me. Nothing. I just let it be. Keep in mind that we’re pretty sure what caused the issue. Yet, still I was patient and professional.

This is what I received from my vendor today, just a few moments ago actually:

“Sorry we had issues with your Web site yesterday. A Web site is like a car or a computer, sometimes they break down for no particular reason. I don't know why your site failed to work as it should, but it is fixed now, and we're not charging for the service even though it consumed a considerable amount of time, and our inventory of time is our only profit source for us.”

As a newbie stock broker many moons ago my trainers had all sorts of pithy crap they wanted us to use on potential clients. In the course of professional sales career I also attended many a seminar chock full of nonsense to use to help “make my up-side a reality”. I’ve taken the Dale Carnegie courses, read all the Zig Zigler books, even made it through the Tony Robbins drivel.

In all my time, I have never heard or seen the line “our inventory of time.” I may be sick to my stomach. Anyone else catch the nice Texas two step in there? They monkey-up my site, but thank heavens above, they’ve searched their hearts and have decided not to charge me to fix it. That’s a whole lot like a cop throwing you out of his moving car then telling you not to worry, cause he's not going to cite you for jay-walking.

“Inventory of time.” Are you kidding me?

This Is What My Job Is Like Sometimes....

He-He!

Never, Ever Think Out Loud...Ever...

This is how to endear yourself to the local NOW chapter.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26257817/?GT1=43001

"Hello, PBQ Public Relations, How may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m John Moloney, Mayor of Mount Isa, and I would like for you to create a PR program for the local Chamber of Commerce here.”

"Fantastic sir. What kind of program did you have in mind?"

“Well, we have a demographic issue here that needs to be reversed. We have an inordinate amount of men versus women in our community. This is creating morale problems among the miners here, and as you know, Mount Isa is nothing without happy miners.”

“Indeed sir. Can you tell me what program you had in mind?”

“Well maybe a print campaign that we can insert in papers around Australia encouraging young women to move to the area. Maybe a slogan…Like…It’s OK if you’re not clean & purdy, in Mt Isa we like ‘em plain and sturdy!”

“Ahh, sir?”

“You know, something catchy. Like…Can’t seem to keep a mate, come to Mt. Isa, don’t be late, or Boys seem to leave you behind, date a miner, they’re good and blind!”

“Ahh, you can’t be serious”

“Dead serious. Come on man, think. Oh, oh, I got one. How about, So you’re ugly and all alone. In Mt Isa you can always find a home….Crap yeah. That’ll work. You know, real big and splashy in bright colors. Oh, oh, oh, how about a moving incentive. When you move, you get 50 cents for every pound you weigh over 150….."

..click

“Hello. Hello, you still there…hello”

Things They Don't Teach In School

Kid stories abound on blogs. It’s a perfect venue for sharing how brilliant and unique our offspring can be. Reading about Little Johnnie and Little Suzie can be entirely entertaining or tedious. It’s a fine line. Accordingly, I try not to fill this space with entries on my little guy. I can’t resist it today, however.

Sunday evening we took a stroll down the street. Weather was perfect and the sun was on its way down. He’s still young enough that I get to hold his hand sometimes. It was a great way to wind down on Sunday. As we’re walking, there was a cat in the neighbor’s yard. It was focused on something in the grass, pawing at it.

We stood and watched for a minute. I asked my little guy what in the world that cat was doing. He told me he’d find out. My six year old proceeded to bark at the cat for a few seconds. After that, he began to meow at it. I must have had a look on my face when he finished.

“He’s hunting crickets. I told him to stop because he looks like a dog burying a bone. Don’t worry dad, I have a small mammal accent. He understood me.” Then he was off down the street.

Small mammal accent…My son is a mammal whisperer...who knew...

The Freaks Come Out At Night

Table Rock State park is a pretty good place to camp. It’s a few miles outside of Branson, a perfect base to operate out of. I’ve been going for decades. Now, we’re camping with my son.

In all the years I’ve been going, I’ve never once taken advantage of the programs offered at the park by the Park Rangers. We’ve always been there just to play on the lake or in Branson. This weekend, however, we had some time. We caught a program on turtles before dinner. Very educational. The little guy loved it.

Later that same night, after dark, we went on a 90-minute bug safari. All manner of creepy, crawly, slithery, slimy things come out when the sun goes down. Park Ranger Christie handed out flashlights and we followed her into the Ozark bush. Very, very cool. Goodness gracious the spiders. Blach.

By far and away the coolest critter we encountered was an Ant Lion. This guy starts out as an egg, grows up into a little bug that buries himself in a hole to trap and eat ants, then cocoons himself, finally turning into a winged creature that looks like a funky dragonfly. I’ve seen a bunch in my lifetime, but never knew what they were.

You know, every time I take a side road, or do something not on the agenda, it turns out being one of the most memorable things on the trip. These little adventures are probably everywhere. If I’d just stinking slow down long enough to notice them…

For Immediate Release

August 15, 2008 Dateline Ossetia…
Four members of the Turkish press came under fire from Russian soldiers as they approached a roadside checkpoint.

Mustafa Baraki, 42, Istanbul, a journalist for the Turkish National News reported that shortly after 1:30 pm, the SUV in which he was traveling, along with a videographer, sound technician, and translator, came under small arms and rifle from Russian Nationals as they approached a road block well inside the war ravaged Georgian region.

“It was scary time. Lucky to be alive. Need bathroom”, stated an obviously shaken Baraki through his translator in broken English immediately following the incident.

Intense video shot during the fire fight, and available exclusively through the Blah Network, captured the harrowing moments during, and immediately after, the firefight, in which the occupants of the SUV can be heard offering their surrender, trying to establish their identities as Turkish Press, and asking for an ambulance to treat a wounded member of their party.

During the firefight, video footage revealed all four men ducking to avoid the barrage of gunfire and engaging in animated conversations. When asked about the nature of the conversations, Baraki indicated he was “screaming prayers, lamenting his lack of suitable undergarments, and cursing his 10th grade counselor who told him he’d be a great journalist.”

An official from the Kremlin, speaking on the condition anonymity, stated there would be no comment from Moscow and cast doubt on the report that it was Russian soldiers involved. “We (Russians) have a long history when it comes to shooting Arabs of poorer nations. It’s doubtful any of our conscripted 18 year olds, so far from home, so poorly fed, and perpetually angry-drunk, would have missed a target that badly given the chance to actually shoot something.”

All four involved in the shootout returned to Turkey and are in fair condition at an undisclosed hospital being treated for injuries described as “somewhat related to the incident.” The Blah network has learned that three of the four men are currently suffering from convulsive vomiting and near epic, nonstop diarrhea rendering them unable to stand up. The fourth man is in a semi-catatonic state sucking his thumb and crying out for Baboo, a pet alpaca from his childhood.

Afet Abdabi, 67, Ankara, mother of the injured videographer, was quoted in a local paper as saying, “my son is well, but bent over double as if the hand of Allah himself has taken hold of his colon.” Abdabi went on to claim that her son immediately resigned from the news crew and will take a job filming local weddings where all he’ll dodge in the future is the oxen dung-goat cheese dip so often served at the receptions.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrCoHBuha4Y

Yah, That Always Helps

What do you mean no aisle seats!

No Economy plus either!

I got a tight connection schedule!

Someone's cranky and he's pouting a few seats over from me at the gate.

Oh please, please, please, let me sit by this guy on my three hour flight.

Generally, yelling at anyone wearing a colored vest in an airport is guaranteed to generate the results you least desire...

Gee Mom I wanna go home!

Lower Abdominal Crunches

Every paper I've seen today has Michael Phelps on the front page, or near the front. 

 

Thinking about Phelps, makes me think about swimming.  Thinking about swimming reminds me what great exercise it is.  Thinking about what great exercise it is reminds me that we have a lap pool at the local community center.  The community center reminds me that I have a membership and no excuse not to go.  Thinking about going reminds me that I need trunks.

Thinking about trunks reminds me of the silly little speedos the Olympians wear.

Thinking about speedos makes me giggle.  Thinking of me in speedos makes be laugh out loud.

Seriously, the thought is so funny, so ridiculous, as to make me want to buy a pair.  Set up a camera pool side to catch the reactions of the suddenly infirm as they quickly find the exits, most trying in vain to suppress a violent gag reflex.  

Bright red speedos and flip-flops.  Nothing else.  Oh yes, I must do it.  

Blues in "B" (as in B22)

Trapped in Chicago,  My flight delayed

Flying really blows, But must get paid 

No cuts, no deals-yuck, no royalties

So in sales I'm stuck, till I'm eighty

Thursday I'll be back, Then start again

I'll pluck, strum, and hack, Edit again

Find rhyme and a hook, Chorus and verse

In my soul I'm shook, With this darn curse

Warning this should be, To all of you

Don't end up like me, (for the love of all things holy you big dummies) Please stay in school

Thank you.  That is all.

Still delayed.

Ah, Sports!!

The new Olympic sport men all across the country are playing. Right at home, in the comfort of their recliners, couches, and love seats:

Mental Ping-Pong

I’ve become a fan of beach volleyball. Women’s…beach volleyball
Is that wrong?
That’s wrong isn’t it?
No, look they're athletes deserving of respect.
Yeah Ok, you’re right.
That’s wrong.
Yes, definitely wrong.
I am wrong. Yes.
Yes…..indeed.
Turn the channel now. Matlock is on A&E
I am wrong.
But..
No…no-no.
Wrong!
Alright, I’ll de-program my DVR…soon. Like maybe after the next round?
No, Dang it…Now. I’ll do it now.
Yes, that’s best.
Wrong…
But..
No-No. Stop it…

The Things You Learn Over Pasta

I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn before. I believe its Ms. Flynn’s debut novel. It has been out for a while now. For a murder mystery type, not something I normally like, it was well worth reading. Very much so. The characters had such a depth of wrong in them that I couldn’t put it down. Surprisingly evil and dark.

In proof that it is a very small world indeed, I had dinner last night with some friends of Ms. Flynn. Turns out Ms. Flynn has her second effort in the hands of the publisher. Edits underway. Can’t wait for it to hit the stores.

Funny note: I commented to her friends that the characters in her first book were rendered so well as to make me wonder about Ms. Flynn’s background, i.e. she’s got some serious bones in the closet or just plain messed up. Nope. I’m told she’s from two of the nicest parents a girl can have, grew up in the suburbs, and had a very normal, standard upbringing.

Much respect sister, cause your book was mucho creepy.

On Cheering

Did you see the relay (Men's 4 x 100) last night? Tell me you saw it.

I can’t remember the last time my wife and I jumped up and down yelling and screaming like that.

Well, there was that time when at the urging of my wife’s brother, my six year old pulled a joke telling us about his plans to attend KU when he goes to college...

How fun was that? The relay, not KU. Please.

It's not too often that you get into something so much you lose your self-awareness. Both my wife and I ended up out of our chairs, just plain screaming, flailing our arms urging that dude to touch the wall first. Good times.

Short & Sweet

"Our goal is to be published songwriters, with a cut on the radio, by the time we are 40. 1,541 days to go."-orignally posted August 8, 2006

Say more in fewer lines.

Yes, I know. I know, I know, I know.

Here, let me practice:

"Brevity Sucks"

Thank you. That is all

Miles and miles to go. 809 days...

HBO Does Rome

History is cool. The history of Rome is particularly interesting to me. I was happy when Netflix mailed HBO’s first season of Rome. So, I watched all three DVD’s.

I’ve heard that HBO is working on a World War II mini-series. According to the way Rome is going, here’s how I think HBO will treat it:

Truman rises to power by stabbing Roosevelt like 100 times all the while spouting ancient poetry. Truman then goes on screwing things up in D.C. until such time that the country decides it no longer likes a democracy and needs a dictator.

Harry Truman end ups sleeping with Ike.

Ike, confused by his mixed feelings, ends up sleeping with half the underage girls in the USO. When he’s not sleeping with a 15 year old, he broods as he plans the conquest of Europe. Then, because it’s been five minutes, sleeps with the princesses of the fallen countries he crushes until they bear him a son.

Bess Truman, Harry Truman’s wife, strangely naked in all her scenes for no apparent reason, decides to sleep with General Patton, General MacArthur, General Bradley, all of the Joint Chiefs, the Vice President, Speaker of the House, Speaker Pro-tem, and the Minority Whip.

Hitler, also naked in all his scenes for no apparent reason, falls in love with his male page, Mussolini’s third wife, and Churchill’s pet Schnauzer. He constantly has to be bathed by his servants and spills wine down his front as he drinks it by the gallon.

Emperor Hirohito, secretly in love with Bess Truman, but put off by her constant nudity, decides to kill himself because, well…think about Bess Truman being naked and you begin to understand his inner turmoil.

Bess, still naked for the love of all things holy, decides she no longer loves her husband but cannot leave him because he is rich and powerful, but still yet decides to renounce her life because she too loves Churchill’s Schnauzer.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! I think I’ll read the book.

I'll Be Here All Week Folks...

I have indicated on these pages before that I have a significant aversion to all things spider. Hate them.

Two days ago, I’m applying my usual three fingers of fury to the keyboard not paying attention to much. I happen to look up in time to see a freak of arachnid nature crawling across my desk, right under my monitor. Gentle readers, this sucker was huge and close.

I have since re-read and re-signed a copy of the office personal conduct policy and have dutifully apologized for my vulgarity to all offended members of my staff, as per the details set forth in my employee discipline report.

So, the exterminator comes by today. He’s asking about the spider while he’s doing his thing. He stops and gets a serious look on his face:

“You know, we’ve had a bunch of reports of spiders in and around computer keyboards lately.”

“Yeah, really. I wonder why?”

“Well, personally, I think its cause they’re setting up web sites.”

Right…..

Nightmare on Main Street

Blank, vacant stares
Indecision
Slow, aimless wandering
Confusion

Something strange has happened here.

Something….eerie. Something….sinister.

What’s become of the color safe bleach? Who moved the pantyhose? Mrs. Wilson, pounding her forehead, clutching a coupon in a clinched fist, hopes beyond hope that somehow, some way, she’ll divine the location of the 8 oz French cut green beans two for a dollar. Mothers, mouths agape in bewilderment, push empty carts, like lost tourists in a strange land, stopping mid-reach for what used to be the three-pack of Scott Towels, finding it now to be the family sized tub of Miracle Whip. Even the mind-numbing squeak of the off kilter wheels on the shopping carts sound different.

Wal-Mart remodels and the town stands still.

Never Been Kissed

Surgeons spend their spare time flying jets, deep sea fishing, or building full scale replicas of battleships out of two sticks of knotty pine, four nails, and a piece of scrap steel they found in the garage.

Orthopedic docs tend to be former college jocks. They race cars on the weekend, climb a mountain, or hit the gym.

I’ve now come to the conclusion that neurologists spend their weekends lording over a hot and heavy game of D&D, or engaging in deep discussions about which one was better: Picard or Kirk. Probably, now I’m going out on a limb her, but probably, they still wear footed PJ’s and have life sized Boba Fet action figures in their bedrooms.

Seriously….wow!

Give Me A Beat...

The office manager tells me that Janet Jackson is on the phone for me, line 2.

I say, “Janet Jackson, Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty” and giggle .

Nothing but a blank stare.

Come on people! I can’t be the only child of the 80’s in the room?

Please!

Apparently Ms. Paltrow has lent the use of her visage to a PSA encouraging U.S. Citizens overseas to vote in the upcoming elections. I have no problems with that. Well, I didn’t until I realized that it’s not just a PSA. It’s actually encouraging people to vote for a particular party. It’s not a PSA at all. It’s propaganda basically.

The more I thought on the subject, I came to a conclusion. Anyone that chooses to live abroad, not just go to school, or take a temporary work assignment, but to live, live outside the U.S., shouldn’t be dispensing advice on what needs to be done in the country they have vacated.

Moreover, and this is important now, anyone that names their baby “Apple” is probably not someone I’m going to rely on to help shape my important decisions.

Where to go for the best seafood in Seville, yes. Where to get my wife a Prada bag or a pair of Ugs, yes. Where’s the best part of continental Europe to summer in, yes.

Who to vote for, yeah, no thank you. I got this one Gweneth, my dear. You just go on being fabulous girl….

There and Back Again

Home at last. 2,100 round trip miles. That’s a lot of driving. This country has some amazing things to see and do. Know what else is amazing? I’ll reconcile the checkbook later and make a determination as to how much we really spent during the ten days away. Amazing indeed.

Rode a horse. That was big for me. See, my rule of thumb is never to climb on any animal that outweighs me by several hundred pounds. Yet I did it. A one hour trail ride in Estes Park, Co. Beautiful-the scenery and the multicolored bruises on my greenhorn bottom the next day.

If you get to Estes Park, you have to drive up to the visitor center at the top of the Rocky Mountain National Park. Don’t take the cheater’s way. Go up via the Old Fall River Road. It’s a one way gravel road with narrow hair pin switchbacks. It was simultaneously the most breathtaking and terrifying hour I have ever spent, with the exception of my wedding, of course. A little over 12,000 feet high.

White water rafting with the whole family. Fantastic. I mean fantastic. Survived a class four rapid, Cardiac Rock, on the Cache de Poudre river. It’s a French word pronounced Cash de Poo-der, which sounds like Cash to Poo-der, which is exactly what happened. You pay money to soak yourself in 50 degree water and then end up barely avoiding messing your trunks. I'm hooked.

Mount Rushmore was incredible. Tourist trap, yes, but still something everyone should see. The scale, the complexity, the sheer tonnage of rock that had to be blasted, hammered, chiseled, and polished is mind-boggling. It’s also a harsh reminder that I suck at artistic endeavors. I can’t make a simple bowl in seventh grade pottery class. These people carved sixty foot busts of dead presidents into the side of a mountain.

Spent a hot afternoon on the wild life loop in Custer’s State Park. Pronghorn antelope, white-tailed deer, big horn sheep, prairie dogs, and buffalo. Go off the pavement, onto some of the back public access roads. We ended up in the middle of a buffalo herd as they were crossing from one meadow to another. More buffalo than I could count. Kept saying “I am Need-to-Pee. You, Growl On Face Like Constipated Bear and Little Badger are my family. I find many, many ta-tonka” for like six hours afterwards.

On a scheduling note, I’d pick later in August to go near Mount Rushmore. The troops were gathering for the annual Harley-Davidson rally everywhere. We camped about thirty minutes outside of Sturgis, just a few miles from Mount Rushmore. The place was crawling with bikes and bikers. The rally doesn’t officially kick off until next week. I can’t imagine what it must be like. Let me just say this, and I don’t care how “Bad” you think you are, the whole black leather vest and no shirt thing-no. Gross. On the way home we counted bikes heading into the area for a little while. On average, about twenty per minute. Two people per bike, that’s…multiply by four, carry the one…divide by three..yeah, about sixty two million gallons of water not being used for showers in the coming week. Scary.

What a trip. Loved the time with the family. Now it’s back to work…

High Plains Drifter

To borrow a line from the Good Doctor, "Oh, the things you will see". Clorado and South Dakota were amazing.

People I'm headed home. Arriving in KC tomorrow. I'll post more later. Many thanks to the guest bloggers. Excellent as always.

Peace.