Hey Joe

Happy Halloween

Johnny: Do you remember one time when we were small, we were out here? It was from right over there, I jumped out at you from behind the tree, and Grandpa got all excited, and he shook his fist at me and said, "Boy, you'll be damned to Hell!" Remember that? Right over there. Boy, you used to really be scared here.

Barbara: Johnny!

Johnny: Hey, you're still afraid!

Barbara: Stop it, now! I mean it!

Johnny: [in a creepy voice] They're coming to get you, Barbara!

Barbara: Stop it! You're ignorant!

Johnny: They're coming for you, Barbara!

Barbara: Stop it! You're acting like a child!

Johnny: They're coming for you!

[points to the cemetery zombie]

Johnny: Look, there comes one of them now!

Barbara: He'll hear you!

Johnny: Here he comes now! I'm getting out of here!

 

Newscaster: It has been established that persons who have recently died have been returning to life and committing acts of murder. A widespread investigation of funeral homes, morgues, and hospitals has concluded that the unburied dead have been returning to life and seeking human victims. It's hard for us here to be reporting this to you, but it does seem to be a fact.

Radio Announcer: Civil defense officials in Cumberland have told newsmen that murder victims show evidence of having been partially devoured by their murderers. Consistent reports from witnesses to the effect that people who acted as if they were in a kind of trance were killing and eating their victims prompted authorities to examine the bodies of some of the victims. Medical authorities in Cumberland have concluded that in all cases, the killers are eating the flesh of the people they kill. And so this incredible story becomes more ghastly with each report. It's difficult to imagine such a thing actually happening, but these are the reports we have been receiving and passing on to you, reports which have been verified as completely as is possible in this confused situation.

 

Field Reporter: Chief, if I were surrounded by eight or ten of these things, would I stand a chance with them?

Sheriff McClelland: Well, there's no problem. If you have a gun, shoot 'em in the head. That's a sure way to kill 'em. If you don't, get yourself a club or a torch. Beat 'em or burn 'em. They go up pretty easy.

Field Reporter: Are they slow-moving, chief?

Sheriff McClelland: Yeah, they're dead. They're all messed up.

 

Be careful out there tonight. They're coming for you.

R.I.P.

Robert Goulet

1933-2007

Legendary baritone, Robert Goulet, passed away at the age of 73 while awaiting a lung transplant.

Suffering from a rare form of pulmonary fibrosis, Goulet had been hospitalized in Las Vegas since September 30, 2007, before being transferred to Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles on October 13.

Oh and I guess Chef Tell (1943-2007) and Porter Wagoner (1927-2007) croaked recently too.

TGIM

A busy weekend has thankfully come to a close.

The majority of the past 48 waking hours have been spent hovering over the boy to ensure the timely completion of his report on the Modoc Indians. We only took breaks for the occasional meal or funeral. OK, there were a few other activates sprinkled in as well. Both kids were scheduled to spend Friday night at friend's homes as Lisa and I had plans for dinner and the theater. Yes, we are cultured as all get out.

I'm partial to bullets, and not just because I harbor fantasies of making hordes of Wal*Mart-ers dance the lead limbo. I'm talking about bullets of the organizational variety as I'm also a fan of orderliness. Bulleted text is neat, clean and easy to read. No getting bogged down in a shit storm of letters. That and it suits my lazy style to a T.

So without further ado, allow me to preset a bulleted recap of my weekend.

Friday evening – 6PM dinner reservations, 8PM play

• Got home
• Packed boys stuff while Lisa rode roughshod over the boy on Modoc Duty
• Hollered to girl to make sure she had her stuff packed
• Slammed front door at 5:35
• Dropped girl at friend's house
• Dropped boy at friends house
• Arrived at restaurant by 6:10; late but still earlier than my sister
• Ate, drank, enjoyed stimulating family conversation
• Enjoyed "The Mousetrap" but found myself nodding off. Discovered later that dad fell asleep and missed the whole "whodunit" revelation
• Home by 11:00
• Passed out

Saturday

• Alarm rang at 7AM
• Cut apples and gathered the rest of snacks for 9AM soccer game
• Pick up boy by 8AM
• Boy in need of sustenance before soccer game. Hit Burger King drive-thru
• Final soccer game for which we were on snack and banner duty in case you did not get that from Saturday, point #2 above
• Lisa leaves for SFO to pick up mother
• Boy and I pick up girl. Home by 10:45AM
• Resume attack on the Modocs
• Prepared mud pack for Modoc's "earthen-home" model –slathered said home
• Lisa and company arrive home at 12:40.
• All head to Fuddrucker's for 1PM soccer team party
• Hit Spirit Store for Halloween stuff
• Home – more Modoc than you can shake a stick at
• Me -> Safeway
• Prepare dinner of grilled salmon, rice and sautéed zucchini w/caramelized onions. Yes I'm just that good
• Cease Fire called for dinner and then resume attack on hapless Modocs
• Boy finished major part of report – rewarded with one hour at friends Halloween party accompanied by me
• Spill my Hurricane while flipping off Tom
• Endure ridicule of peers
• Home and back to work
• Enjoy relaxing evening – KIDDING

Sunday

• Church – enjoy your time in hell. I won't be there.
• Blah, blah, Modoc, blah – misread description of "winter home". Construct another wall out of chicken wire/clay/mud. Add to earthen-home
• Throw on suit and tie
• All pile in car – Drive to Hayward for memorial service
• All pile in car – Drive to Alamo for reception
• All pile in car – Drive to Skipolini's for Donald's birthday
• All pile in car – Drive Roger home
• All pile in car - Arrive at Crazy, aka home
• Put final touches on Indian report – commend boy for his stick-to-itiveness
• Prepare steak marinade for Monday night's dinner. Enjoy vigorously stabbing flank steak and set to marinating
• Pay bills
• Expire

I'm betting you feel better about your own weekends now don't you? You're welcome.

Welcome to the middle, Stan

So the never-ending saga that is Constant Reader Stan's life has just taken a very interesting turn. OK, perhaps "turn" is too gentle a term, as it conjures up tranquil visions of a winding country road and a leisurely Sunday drive. So let's substitute "turn" for multiple car roll-over with resultant pile up and likely fatalities. That or a kick in the taint.

Stan is about 35 years of age, eldest of two; currently single (see past post for just a few of the reasons), the product of a more or less a normal, middle class upbringing. With the exception of a lack of regular female companionship, Stan's life is rolling along rather nicely; there's steady work, frequent camping trips, the occasional opportunity to rock the decks (need to clarify this term please Stan) and endless supplies of room-temperature Budweiser. The highway is straight and smooth. Yes I think it's fair to say that things are rolling along rather nicely.

But wait! What's that up ahead? Seems there's a strange protuberance looming out of the otherwise velvety tarmac of Stan's life. Let's listen in:

INT. KITCHEN – EARLY EVENING

Mother of Stan (obviously emotional)

I have some news for you.

STAN (becoming concerned)

What? What is it mom?

M.O.S.

In the late 60's, when I was 21….your father and I had a son that we gave up for adoption.

STAN offers a blank stare

M.O.S.

I realize that for 35 years you've lived under the assumption that you're my oldest son and that you and your younger brother are our only children, but you've been living a lie. We all have. You have an older brother…and apparently a sister-in-law and two nephews.

STAN (stammering)

I…I have a Racer X? What does that make me? Speed? Sparky? Freakin' Chim-Chim??

M.O.S.

I've carried this secret for years and have wanted to tell you. I probably wouldn't have chosen this particular moment to break the news, but out of the blue I received a letter from him, along with photos of my….grandchildren.

STAN

Gaaaahhhh

M.O.S.

I imagine you're pretty well shaken about all this.

STAN

Rocked is more the case. I need to be alone for awhile to drive around aimlessly before eating some red meat at Izzy's Steak House.

M.O.S.

I understand. You take some time to let it sink in before moving your things out of Racer X's room. He is older, after all, and deserves the larger room. You've had it long enough.

STAN

Gaaaaahhhhhh…aAAK

To be continued….

Lunchtime – a poor choice

Costco

• Jackasses abound – so much for being less crowded mid-day
• Constantly rearranged inventory- did more backtracking than a cross-eyed Indian – in the end, still didn't locate half my shit
• Retired people in no hurry – we're not all on your schedule gramps
• Fat fucks feasting – old complaint
• Same fucks blocking aisles and shelves – ditto
• $130.00 and no lunch to show for it – forgot to order the hot dog combo when I was checking out

The Boy – A Reflection

So the therapist suggested that I blog about the boy, being that he is a constant source of discussion and, admittedly, frustration.

The boy is nine. He's very bright, funny, adventurous, and athletic. He's a thinker, he's creative and he asks wonderful questions. He can be compassionate and very loving. He makes me laugh at times when I should be playing the stern father; often when I'm in the midst of playing the stern father. This often ruins opportunities for teaching him self-control, respect and discipline; if dad's laughing, it must be OK.

For all of his wonderful qualities, he is very trying and requires constant reminders to stay focused on the task at hand, whatever it may be. He gets frustrated easily and has moments of anger that are expressed in a loss of self-control and 'poor choices." That term, "poor choices" always strikes me as one of those modern child-rearing, psycho-babble terms, but it is fairly accurate description. He chooses to do something he knows he shouldn't do, be it not doing what he's asked to do, throwing an object that might cause injury or break something. He appears not to care about consequences, choosing instead to do what he wants. He craves independence and desires to make his own decisions, while at the same time not wanting to "grow up." I think both of our kids fear adulthood, and rightly so based on how well I deal with it sometimes. To them, adults spend all of their time working and being stressed out, a far from appealing existence to be sure, particularly if you're nine.

Lisa and I are considering the fact that he could be ADD and may require some type of medication. There is a history of it within the family and he certainly exhibits many of the symptoms. That history has also shown that some of those who perhaps should have been medicated earlier in life and were not, later chose to self-medicate; a "poor choice" that has not led them to a very peaceful existence. We do not want the boy to make this same choice. I believe his frustration is often with himself and the feeling that he is unable to do what he knows is right.

I've always been very pro medication. Whatever the problem, there must be a pill for it. Whenever I go to the Dr., I feel ripped off if I don't leave with a prescription. But when it comes to matters of the brain (OK, my child's brain), I'm very wary of the medication route. I don't want to change who he is, somehow obstruct his personality. I don't want him to lose the energy that so often makes me laugh. I just want him to be able to focus his energy, be able to control it and choose where and how to use it; to accomplish his goals thereby improving his self-esteem which obviously does wonders for a child's emotional growth.

I love this kid, and sometimes love immobilizes us from acting for fear of making the wrong choice. We now need to make some choices ourselves. Hopefully, they'll be good ones.

Let Brotherly Love Endure

According to a survey by Travel & Leisure magazine and CNN Headline News, Philadelphia Pennsylvania is home to the most butt-ugly bunch of sad sacks in the nation; "uglier than a sack of assholes!" says Travel & Leisure.

OK, maybe they didn't say that exactly, but according to the survey, Philadelphia was "found to be among the least stylish, least active, least friendly and least worldly, according to the 'America's Favorite Cities' " survey.

So tell us something we don't know. OK, so maybe I don't know, but I'm in a Monday Mood and so I'm more than willing to bash away at them.

T&L editor, Amy Farley, is doing some furious back-pedaling,

"We were asking people to vote on attractiveness, not unattractiveness. Travel & Leisure editors believe there are a lot of attractive people in Philadelphia. The relative attractiveness of its residents is only a minuscule factor in evaluating a city's merit."

Also factored into the equation were the amount of gaseous expulsions, hairy warts, and halitosis.

According to Yahoo News:

Philadelphians' self-esteem has been undermined by national surveys showing they are among the fattest people in the United States. The American Obesity Association ranked the city in the top 10 for overweight people every year between 2000 and 2005.

Hey folks in Philly, you know what will make you feel better? Wrap those pudgy fingers and lips around another cheese steak sandwich. They don't call it comfort food for nothing.

Obviously this is all in jest. Certainly a city that has produced the likes of Toni Basil , Curly Joe DeRita and Danny Bonaduce , has nothing if not a sense of humor.

R.I.P.

Lucky Dube

1964-2007

I'm sorry to say that I've never heard of this guy, but just so you know, he's dead. Apparently he didn't live up to his name.

Dube, a South African Reggae star with more than 20 albums to his name, was apparently shot during a carjacking attempt in the city of Johannesburg. Reports say he tried to drive away and crashed into a tree.

R.atpack I.s P.hfffft

• 

Joey Bishop

1918-2007

The last surviving member of Sinatra's Rat Pack, has died. The rest of the rats were exterminated in the following order:

• Peter Lawford:      1984 
• Sammy Davis Jr.:  1990
• Dean Martin:          1995
• Frank Sinatra:        1998

And so ends an era.

R.I.P. (tide) (ok that was stupid)

Deborah Kerr

1921-2007

That's her on top of Burt Lancaster, wet humping in From Here to Eternity. She was in a bunch of other films too, including The King and I, with Yul Brenner and An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant. If you care that much, you can check out her IMDB stats.