Insure This!

I began a rant on Facebook today but unfortunately I was limited in space to say how I really feel. On the FB I had noted that I am not one to express his political views publicly. I say live and let live, everybody has their views and the right to hold them and express them as they see fit. Me I choose to keep mine to my self typically. However, today I am furious, and feel like I have something to say, though it may fall on deaf ears, for me it will be cathartic. I found out I was denied for health insurance today. Insurance companies can kiss my ever loving bare white ass! I am furious that they can deny me coverage because of my so called "pre-existing conditions".

I have been genetically blessed (thanks mom and dad) with health concerns, in fact most all of us have. Sure I must take my share of the responsibility. After all I can do some limited things to help control these problems, but in the end genetics take over and it is what it is. Medical science has made it possible for my fat lazy ass to take pills to control the disorders that could potentially kill me and I for one am thankful for this.

I have never been subjected to such discrimination prior to this denial. I have been fortunate enough to have been consistently insured through employment. Earlier this year I became unemployed and thus privy to a different vantage point of the current health care system. Particularly the insurance industry and it's broken ass EFF'D up policies on insuring people.

I have followed the debate and listened to these so called politicians bicker and spin their bullshit about right and wrong, and in the end it is all about the almighty dollar. I have no problem with capitalism but at what cost?

I can't get insured privately because I have pre-existing conditions that make me too much of a liability in their black soulless eyes. God forbid they insure someone with high blood pressure or high cholesterol because they will have to pay for the medications and lab work required to manage my condition. God forbid those executives don't get to take their next exotic vacations or pay the mortgages on their indulgent mansions they live in while I have to quit taking my cholesterol medications because I can't afford to pay full price for them.

So now, when I have that heart attack and have to be rushed to the hospital, in the end who is going to pay for the bill? Not the bastards sitting in their huge office buildings throwing wads of their filthy lucre at each other! It will be the tax payers. You are welcome America, I apologize in advance. Write your congress man if you don't like it!

Congress sits up there on Capitol Hill and debates about it, making senseless propaganda ridden arguments perpetuated by the lobbyists that are taking them out on their yachts and giving their States, kickbacks for taking care of them. All the while the freakin' Republican party is chatting cries of "socialism" and how we are turning in to the now defunct Soviet Union. They are clueless about such things and have never lived in, nor even visited some of these so called "socialist" countries.

Their argument that the quality of medical care would substantially drop if we adopted a socialized medical model is just plain crap. I have experienced socialized medicine, it was fine. I am still alive to tell about it! I don't even care if we do adopt a socialized medical model. I would be happy with a system that didn't discriminate on pre-existing conditions and that allowed you to choose whatever doctor you want to see. Make it affordable and accessible and I will shut up. I am willing to pay something, I was ready to shell out almost $200 a month as it was for a minimal plan. Now I can shell out $200 a month for one prescription and I have 4 that I should be taking daily.

The system the way it is, in my opinion, is criminal. I am in between the income levels to qualify for Medicaid, and can't afford getting insurance through my wife's group plan. All the while the fat cat politicians and the big company executives that have them in their hip pockets are fully insured and can eat their rib eye steaks and caviar, while I have to eat leafy green vegetables and oatmeal to stay alive. Ok a bit dramatic but you get the point.

Whew.....do I feel better? Not particularly. However, I can at least say that I said something. You may not agree, or you may agree with portions of the venom that I have spewed. Like I said, to each his own. Just remember that someday it could happen to you. And when it does, I hope by then something has changed and Congress can go on to debating the next bullshit agenda item that their lobbyists have asked them to push. Viva la revolution! Peace, love and good health for all!

Gonna Have to Face it.........

Crack cocaine. Scourge of the inner cities of our nation in the 80s and 90s. A highly addictive derivative of the more expensive cocaine, that led to the addiction of millions of men and women because of the intense high and the cheap accessibility of these "rocks".
Spawning the term "crack whore" named for the women who would prostitute themselves just to get that next high they were so badly jonesin' to get. Ultimately producing the "crack baby" who was born addicted to this substance through the in-vitro transfer to the child.
Soon crack was replaced by an even cheaper and more addictive drug methamphetamine which produced a similar high that lasted longer and was cheaper and easier to obtain. Meth continues to plague our great nation, taking it's toll on families because of it's highly addictive properties.

Now I did not decide to write this blog to educate people on substance abuse, rather a much different, yet just as addictive activity as doing drugs. I am referring to the ever popular, cue music; dum dum duuuummm; Facebook.
Yes my friends Facebook has now become the crack and meth of this generation. I speak of this through my own experience and the experiences of those around me. They know who they are. Just like a meth user can spot another meth user from a mile away, so too can the Facebook addict, affectionately called amongst it's constituents as "Crackbook". Add to it the fact that if you own a "Crackberry" device, you can access your Crackbook account any place any time with the push of a button. This becomes one powerful speedball that will keep you coming back time and time again.

Crackbook has penetrated deep into the nooks and crannies of urban as well as suburban, hell, even rural areas of the world. This is a pandemic unequaled by any other plague in history. An unstoppable force that just keeps growing and dragging unwitting victims into the depths of addiction with no respite. It has no discretion as to age, sex, socioeconomic status. It preys on any and all who heed it's call to "reconnect" with old friends and acquaintances. Social networkers looking to in turn prey upon the imprisoned masses looking for the next high, have found this forum to be highly lucrative and an excellent platform to gain their own real world riches. Like big tobacco, disregarding the harmful effects of their products, only seeking to gain from the misfortune of those gullible enough to take that first puff, that first hit.

Become a mob boss, a gangster. Accumulate untold wealth in a world of crime and adventure. Taking pleasure from the notion that you just whacked another mobster and gained more power and status. Prefer a slower paced life? Become a farmer, planting crops, harvesting them and selling them for a small profit just so you can get your next fix of whatever fruit or vegetable you can afford to plant. Don't have enough money? Go to the market and whore yourself out like the crack whores of old, begging for the job that will allow you to satiate your craving for more land, bigger homes, and infamy; as people praise what you have built as a Farm Empire from just a few patches of potatoes.

Crackbook has caused great minds such as myself to actually calculate whether it was more profitable to plant carrots vs. pumpkins. Even as I write this I am a slave to this cyberspace master, being beckoned by a friend to come harvest their crops for them. I can't say no, and quite frankly I don't know that I want to.

You see people get addicted to things because they receive some benefits from the addiction, although in the end it most usually ends poorly. Me, I just earned several thousands of dollars in a very short period of time. Like Pavlov's dogs, a bell rings, they get fed, they eventually learn to salivate at the sound of a bell. For the Crackbook addict as in real life, the pursuit of possessions helps feed the monster, I want that Farm Town Mansion, and I won't stop until I obtain the elusive prize. What then? Who can say for sure. One thing is for certain, you can find me on the Crackbook most everyday, searching for that elusive high, that next hit of whatever it may be to keep me coming back for more and more.

One for the ages

I have to confess that I have been guilty of a heinous crime against well, myself. For the last lets say 5 or so years I have been professing that I am a fat, old, man. Perhaps it was turning 40, perhaps it was the seemingly never ending travail of aches and pains that have assaulted me more frequently, regardless, I felt old.
I say it all the time. I'm old. My beard is salt and pepper....more salt than pepper. My hair has shades of silver throughout, of course at least I still have a full head of hair. I have started to require reading glasses to read, I can't even see the date on my watch without them. Let's face it, I have reason to say that I am old.

The cherry on top of this proverbial sundae we call life came a week and a half ago when I started noticing that my heartbeat was extremely accelerated. I was helping a good friend install some sod at his home and I'll be damned if I was getting outdone by his wife which again made me feel ancient. She was hauling that sod around like it was some rag doll she was carrying around, meanwhile I would lift one piece and about pass out from exertion.

My feelings of inadequacy continued to worsen. My friends gave me their left over sod, enough to do our front yard, all I had to do was till up the weeds, rake it out, and haul the sod from his house to mine. I was on a tight time line as the temperature was in the 100's and the sod was going to die if we didn't get it down quickly. So here is the kicker, I ask my father, a 70 year old man, to come help me out since he has a big truck, and wouldn't you know it, the old man out did me as well. This is the man that had a heart attack 5 or so years ago and he is kicking my ass up and down the front yard. Granted my heart beat was going nuts and it was 107 degrees outside, and I had been working the whole day before, but still, embarrassing none the less. I am happy to say we got it all done and neither of us died, but I sure felt like I was going to.

So the next day I am taking it easy, feeling sorry for myself and much older than the 44 years that I have been in existence, and notice my heart racing, despite doing absolutely nothing. My wife takes my pulse and it hits 120 beats a minute. Resting heart rate should be in the 70's and mine is nearly double that. I make a determination that despite how much I hate going to the doctor, this seemed serious enough for me to consent to getting things checked out.

This happened over the weekend, fast forward to mid week. My doc sends me to a cardiologist to get a Holter Monitor which is a bunch of electrodes that will measure your heart activity over a 24 hour period, as the EKG he had done didn't show anything abnormal. So I am sitting in the waiting room at this cardiologist's office and begin to look around the room. Something just seemed out of place there, and that something was me. I glanced at the faces of the clientele in the office and noticed that I was surrounded by a room full of overweight septa-, and octogenarian men. No women, no middle aged men, just men that appeared to be much older than I.
It was like I had been awaken by the ghost of Christmas Future and he was showing me what my life was going to be like. I was in a circle of waiting room chairs, a kind of intimate setting really, surrounded by four other men, some with their wives some with their daughters who by appearance seemed to be older than me, but all these men were significantly older than myself. This experience was surreal to me. I sat there nodding as I listened to their conversations with each other, talking about what procedure they had done or were about to be getting done. Occasionally I would drop a witty quip so as to feel as if I were part of the discussion, however it opened my eyes to just how NOT old I really am.

People always point to life altering experiences and say how they are going to change or how it has actually changed their life. I have had a few in mine, but none that had this kind of impact on me. Have I run out and changed my eating habits, or even run anywhere in a feeble attempt to exercise? No. Do I believe that I will? At the moment I say yes, but the reality of it all is, I haven't made any attempts thus far so who knows. The main thing I will take from this is that I am indeed not old. I have only lived maybe half of my life. They say how old you are is a function of how old you think that you are. Chronologically I am 44 years old, mentally I have been acting like I am 70. That is what I can change. That is what I will change. Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the elevator, before you know it I could be tied the the mast of a sail boat exclaiming that "I'm sailing" just like Bob!

Employ Me

Unemployment rates are on the rise in the United States and are the highest they have been in several years. Yours truly is counted amongst the not so elite company of the nation’s jobless community. My unfortunate inclusion with this group is not a result of layoffs due the current economic climate, although I suspect that could have played a part in the big scheme of things. Rather it was a premature, hasty, decision on my part to resign from my post due to circumstances that I will not relate here, as they are not particularly relevant to what I am trying to say in this piece. The point is that I am unemployed and currently seeking to become employed again.

I have been extremely blessed throughout my life as to not have had to work hard to get a job, and when I obtained employment I made damn sure to do the job well so I could maintain my status as employed. I have had three “real” jobs in my adult life; with some variations on the job it’s self. Throw out the fact that I did a tour of duty at the Sizzler starting out as a bus boy and within two months promoted to cook because I worked hard and took an interest in learning more about things. I stayed at the “Sizz” for 6 months before my mother pulled some strings to get me hired on with a residential treatment facility for adolescent females whose parents had a lot of money that they could throw at their problems. I worked as a maintenance man for the facility, fixing holes in walls, replacing light bulbs, that sort of menial labor. Thanks to my father, I was fairly handy which is not only a blessing but also a curse, but that is another piece for another time. This job quickly turned into a better job as a night watch counselor for a new adolescent boys program that they were starting up. I stayed with this job for 6 years before leaving it for a brief stint managing a pet store, which failed miserably.

Subsequently a friend put me onto a job working again, with adolescents, and it appeared to me that I had a calling to work with teenagers, which led me to obtain an education in Psychology to further my career goals. I stayed with this company for 7 years, through three different acquisitions by bigger corporations, and managed to not only maintain employment but also climb the career ladder.

Finally, as I could sense the changes coming in the air, I made a leap of desperation to work for the State of Utah. I took a big pay cut to make this change but it was better than the alternative, which was reveled to be the ultimate demise of this company. This would surely have led to my being unemployed for the first time since I was a young man, however it did not and I continued my status as an employed individual.

I worked for the State for nearly 10 years, which brings me to the aforementioned status of my unemployment. I gave you this history to help you understand my current plight, which has now opened my eyes to a world that heretofore I fortunately have not been a part. Being unemployed is hard work. Starting over, having no income, these things are difficult and I wish them on no one, well maybe someone but that again is another tale for another time.

The government has passed bills to funnel money back into the economy, giving it to huge corporations, under the premise that this would in turn help maintain and even “create” more jobs thus stimulating the economy, putting it back on whatever the metaphorical track it was or is supposed to be on, dependent on your views. Sure these things take time, it is a huge train to move, I get it believe me, I worked in a bureaucracy. My question is this…Where’s the benefit to the little guy? Meanwhile these big companies got all of this money while me along with hundreds of thousands of others are still unemployed standing here waiting for this to “trickle down” to the people.

I don’t presume to sit here at my desk and begin to imply that I am an expert on the economy; hell I can’t even manage my own finances. No, this is about the fact that it seems to me that the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer. I don’t care if you are Democrat, Republican, or adhere to some other ideology, the fact of the matter is this, I have no job and not a dime of that money has funneled down to little ol’ me. And the thing that really chaps my hide is that I am still paying for that expenditure through the taxes I have paid and will pay through my wife’s income. Where’s mine Mr. President? Where’s mine Senator, Congressperson? Where the Eff is mine?

I just want a job people. I am a hard worker; I can do pretty much anything that is thrown my way, ok not anything because I can’t do math! I keep submitting my resume and keep getting told that I am not qualified. Give me a friggin’ break here. I guarantee that I could do the job as good as, if not better, than any other chump who happens to have had a job doing customer service or in retail for a year and therefore have the experience that you are looking for in a new hire.

So I say to my fellow Americans, who are out there treading water trying to keep their heads above the onslaught of economic despair, I empathize, I couldn’t say that before, but I can today. Keep the faith, here’s hoping that we get that life preserver thrown to us soon. Meanwhile I had better go get these resume's posted and dropped off to perspective employers so that I can get turned down some more. I sure wish my house would sell so I could get moved over to Hawaii and at least be poor and unemployed in paradise, but that too is another story for another time!

Man in the Mirror

The self proclaimed "King of Pop", Michael Joseph Jackson, is dead. A week later the frenzy over his death continues, and not unlike his predecessor and former ghostly father in law, Elvis "The King of Rock" Presley, the frenzy will undoubtedly continue on for the rest of my lifetime in one form or another.

Like the rest of the world, I too was a fan of Michael and mourn his passing as not only sad but tragic. Taken before his time, 50 years of age, just as he was about to launch his highly anticipated ascension to the throne. This would be the Michael that the world wanted to remember, the man who changed the face of the music world, not the altered face of his human form, going out with a blaze of glory, back on top.

However there is a part of me that wonders if perhaps he isn't in a better place now. I look at Michael in a way that I believe his millions of adoring fans did not see him. I have ruminated over his death now for a week as I have watched the countless reports on his life and people making feeble attempts at tying themselves to his legacy in one way or another. This is the same man who was vilified for being an accused child molester by the same media machine that is now trying to cover his passing as if it has affected them personally.

I didn't know Michael personally, didn't know anyone who did know him. I never saw him in concert, have a few of his albums, but not all, yet I like to think I had an understanding of this man. I appreciated Michael for the musical genius he was, but with genius comes a price. Michael was different than most of us. As with many who are considered to have genius, they are concurrently just as eccentric as they are brilliant. Michael was no different. Thrust into the spotlight at a young age, Michael became a lost child. Accounts of his childhood tell tales of an allegedly abusive father that most likely had a hand in creating Michael's deficits that were so prevalent as fodder for the media that covered his every move while he matured before the world's eyes. My education and experience in Psychology and Social Work have taught me that an abused child will find a way to cope, however their coping does not always make up for the damage caused from the experiences they have.

The recording industry must have taken it's toll on Michael's psyche as well, perpetuating what was most likely started early on in his life. I have heard many, many so called stars recount their negative experiences with the industry. Imagine being a young man like Michael, thrust out of nowhere onto a world stage, in an industry that demands perfection. His childhood lost, he created a world of his own in which he could revert back to the childhood he so sorely missed out. He built the Neverland Ranch and surrounded himself with children in a mad attempt to reclaim that which was absent from his memories, but still he knew existed for others. He wanted that too, and sought it through means that were considered to be perverse and odd to those on the outside looking in to his world. Like Peter Pan, I suppose he didn't want to grow up because he knew what that was like and it was painful to him.

When Michael looked into his mirror, the man he saw was not the person he wanted to see. Though denying any modifications, the rest of the world watched as he changed right before our eyes. He became what some would say was a hideous looking soul, almost as if he were one of the zombies in his historic Thriller Video. Could his genius been born out of the nightmares that he must have suffered as a child, giving the world an album and video that was truly remarkable?

One can find meaning in anything, and art holds many meanings to those who not only create it, but to those who appreciate the works presented to them. The time I have spent listening to Michael's works of art in the last week have revealed a soul that I believe was not able to find its true Neverland. Michael lived in exile at times, sequestered from the world that once embraced him only to then turn on him like some cobra that has been grabbed by it's tail. One last attempt on his part to recapture the hearts and imagination of the world through a comeback concert ended prematurely. The world has lost a tortured soul, a genius, the likes of which may never surface again. Michael Joseph Jackson is dead, rest in peace. I hope you find your Neverland wherever you land in this universe.

Just Write

I used to hate writing. My earliest recollections of having to write were that it was a requirement for some stodgy old teacher who derived pleasure from the cries and moans of the children in their classes. My guess was that they were into torture, and secretly had a dungeon with a cage and various other implements of pain that they would use on unsuspecting traveling salesmen and small children whose baseballs landed in her yard. I personally never experienced that exact scenario, but I heard the stories.

As I grew I still never really gained an affinity for writing, however I discovered that I wasn't half bad at it. That meant that I was at least half good at it; but I still didn't enjoy it. I recall one assignment that I was given in high school, in fact my mother found it in a box recently, and it was to journal everyday of the quarter. I think of myself as an empathetic person. (Maybe Pres. Obama would appoint me to the Supreme Court?) I suddenly felt the pain of all those tortured traveling salesmen and baseball-less children in a giant cage, being poked at with a stick by a hunchbacked, troll of a man, who was ultimately discovered to be her love child from a one night stand with a aluminum siding salesman, whom she subsequently tortured and devoured like some humanoid black widow. Sorry, I digress.

As I was saying, I had this assignment and I spent every day of the quarter writing about how much I hated writing. I must admit, it was slightly funny, even now I read it and chuckle at my wit. Yet, it had no real substance. It basically went like this... "I hate writing, I hate is so very much. I hate it more than I hate broccoli and I really hate broccoli, that is how much I hate writing." I went on to compare writing to all of the things in my teenage world that I had extreme contempt for, including the teacher. I figured she wouldn't really read them so I tossed in a few jabs at her now and again to see if she was paying attention. She never called me on it so I suspect my postulation was correct.

College wasn't much better, there I had to write research papers and the like. That was boring and pointless as well. Unfortunately I didn't get the luxury of adding insults and witty commentary about my professors and how I thought that perhaps they too had cages and implements of torture that they would use on students who dared to visit them during office hours. Regardless, throughout all of my suffering, I learned and gained a respect for writing.
Fast forward to today. It has been several months now since I have written anything other than a honey do list and maybe a few bad checks. You see, I recently lost my motivation to write due to some, lets just say shit, that gave me a pretty good right hook to the jaw and sent me to my corner to regain my composure. But today, I choose to just write. I don't know how often I will blog, but I have good intentions and hope that this is a new beginning for me. I started on a novel, didn't get very far with it, but I hope that I will get back to work on that as well.

Long story short, I enjoy writing now. I don't have anyone to answer to but myself. I am not being graded, and I do it because I can, not because it is required. I will just write.

Snow, Snow Go Away

In case anyone cares, I am done with the snow. It can just go away now. Unlike Ice Cube, today is NOT a good day, if I had an AK I would probably be forced to use it. (for you older folk that is in reference to a rap song. An AK is a Russian assault rifle and I could have used one this morning.)

Sure no two snow flakes are exactly alike, but to me they all look the same, they look cold and slippery and I am done. DONE I tell ya!

I am already tired of lame ass people feeling the need to go 20 MPH on the freeway because they are afraid. I get it, your ascared, no worries, but for God's sake get the crap outta my way. And don't take up two lanes, believe me when I say I would shoot you if I had my AK.

AK is also the abbreviation for Alaska, which I blame for this stoopit weather. Not only that, but that Sarah Palin chick (although I gotta admit that it did provide me with lots o' laughs at her expense thanks to Tina Fey!) I am certain they did something else to piss me off, but mainly Alaska is just cold and snowy and they say that this cold weather is coming down from up there, so thanks for that.
So yeah I am done, stick a fork in me.

Novel Concept

Well it's official. I have joined the ranks of those who are "working on a novel." I am very excited to be one of those people who can now say, "yeah, I have written a couple of screen plays and now I am working on my novel."
The funny thing about it is, I have no clue what I am doing. Sure I have a concept, and a vague outline about how the story will go. I haven't ever really considered writing a novel, but what the hell. I figure what do I have to lose? That chick that wrote those damn vampire books can do it, why not me.

I'm sure it will sit in my computer along with my screen plays and the only use it will have is to give me an interesting comment to insert into a conversation occasionally. But hey, I am working on a novel, and you can't take that away from me. So if you are very nice and beg me a lot, I may let you take a peek at it some time. And you, being the nice people you are will say, oh that's really good, and in reality it will probably be drivel.
But at least I can say..."yeah I am working on a novel." Can you? And if you are also working on a novel, we can compare notes, and if you know a good publisher let me know!

The Toys of Christmas Past

Well another year has come and gone and Christmas is looming large on the horizon. In anticipation of this, I got to thinking about all of the Christmas mornings that I have had over the years, particularly of the ones when I was a young child, and came up with a list of gifts that I recall receiving. I have decided to do a list of comparisons between similar gifts in honor of all the super cool stuff I loved and enjoyed as a child.

Tinker Toys Vs. Erector Set:

Growing up with a father that was a mechanic and watching him work on cars and fixing things in general, I developed a curiosity for well, tinkering with or erecting things. I recall several Christmas' over the years in which I received one or t'other of these collections of parts that one could pour out all over the table or floor, and build some of the most wonderfully awesome contraptions.

My preference was the Erector set. (Is it just me or does the name Erector set just sound dirty?) He he he he, yes I know I am acting like a little kid, but how can I not, it's Christmas! So yeah, the Erector set (he he he) was awesome. I liked it better than Tinker Toys because it was made of metal parts. These things had all sorts of nuts and bolts and pulleys and wheels that you could slap together and create the best sorts of machines. I loved making a catapult and then putting hot wheels in it and launching them at my siblings. Oh the fun it was erecting things!

Tinker Toys were alright. They were made of wood which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not as cool as metal. You had a bunch of round pieces of wood that had a bunch of holes drilled into them and then several lengths of wooden dowels that you could push into the holes to create some pretty cool stuff. It came with some directions for things you could make and of course if you were really creative you could concoct your own machines that were pretty cool. But by in large the Tinker Toys just weren't as fun as the Erector set in my opinion.

Lincoln Logs Vs. Lego:

An off shoot of the Tinker Toy vs. Erector Set debate is the Lincoln Log vs. Lego discussion. Again like the Tinker Toys you had a wooden product vs. a much more sleek and sturdy product in the Lego's that were hard plastic. Again you could build some pretty cool shit with both gifts, although with the Lincoln Logs you were pretty much limited to building Log cabins. Don't get me wrong, I love me some log cabins. Hell if it was good enough for Honest Abe, it was certainly good enough for the likes of me. I could build some pretty cool cabins with my Lincoln Logs. Both products were good for hucking at your siblings when they would come along and break your creations, though the Logs held a lot more appeal for the hurling process because they were bigger so they carried more velocity than the comparatively smaller and lighter Lego blocks.

I think the versatility of the Lego's were in my mind the better toy to have. There were just so many more interesting things you could do with the Lego's, you weren't just limited to building housing for small plastic Army dudes.

Verti-bird Vs. Plane on a String:

Oh how I long for my Verti-bird helicopter. The Verti-bird helicopter set was a masterpiece that was by far my favorite toy ever! I am sure many of my readers may not have ever heard of, or seen a Verti-bird, but to this day I still wish I had one. In fact anyone who gets me one for Christmas this year will earn my undying gratitude. This was the most awesome toy ever created on God's green earth. It was a little plastic helicopter that was attached to a metal arm that had two levers on a control box that made the helicopter go up/down and forward/backward. Sure it only went around and around in a circle, but I'll be damned if that wasn't just hours of joy. It also had a hook on the bottom of the copter that you could use to hover and pick up things. The challenge was to pick up an item and then carry it to another spot on the Verti-bird landscape, which was basically a painted piece of cardboard with a heli-pad for the landing area. I would spend hours playing with this thing until I wore the batteries out.

The plane on a string was well, in my opinion not quite as cool. Sure it was as dangerous as the Verti-bird in that it had a plastic propeller that would really hurt if it hit your fingers, and sure like the Verti-bird it was an aircraft that went round and round in a circle. But the fact of the matter is, your arm got tired of having to spin this thing around your head over and over again. I have to admit that it was fun to chase your younger brothers and friends around threatening to run it into them. But then your parents would just take it away from you, and you were left to beg your sister for a tasty light bulb warmed cake treat from her Easy Bake Oven. Then, when she wouldn't share, you couldn't threaten her with the plane because your mom took it away and so you would threaten to eat the cake batter before she could cook it, then she tells mom and you are relegated to sitting in your room with all your broke ass toys from the Christmas before.

Slot Car Track Vs. Train Set:

I never really got either one of these toys, but I always wanted them. Every year I would pull out the Sears and Roebuck catalogue and I would look at all of the magnificent slot car tracks, dreaming of all the spectacular races that I would have. I always wanted the biggest race track that they had, but would tell my parents that I would settle for a smaller, less expensive one. There were some really cool race tracks and I never got any of them. I had friends that got them, and of course I got to play with theirs, that was cool. In fact it was actually not a horrible thing that I didn't have one because I got the pleasure of playing with my friends and didn't have all of the headache of actually setting up the track. I am betting that is why my parents never got me one, I discovered this when I bought my own kids a slot car set. Every time they wanted to play, I had to set it up and it is a real pain in the ass.

Like the slot car set, the train set was something that I would always look at in the catalogue and dream about the biggest one with all of the tunnels and bridges and having like 20 different train cars. A train set didn't hold the appeal of the slot car track because of it's lack of speed, but dang a train set would have been cool to have. Again, thankfully I had friends that had trains, and we would have a good ol' time putting hot wheels on the tracks or stealing a sister's barbie doll to put down and then let the train run into them, all the while the sister is screaming and telling on you. It either resulted in de-railing the train or just pushing the toy out of the way, then continuing on clacking down the tracks as if nothing had happened. Of course the mom would come and un-plug the train and tell you to go outside and quit bugging the sister.

Like the slot car track I bought a train set for one of my own children and had fun with it myself, however again I realized that my parents probably didn't get me one because of the labor intensiveness carried with the "some assembly required" slogan. As a parent I have learned that toys for kids should be as little work as possible for the parent. After all, isn't that the idea behind getting toys, to keep the kid busy, not the parent?

Hot Wheels Vs. Matchbox:

Two different versions of the same thing. For my money Hot Wheels were the only game in town though. I mean how could you not love the Hot Wheels better. They had the better looking wheels. Plus they had all these cool concept cars that were so awesome. Who didn't love the Red Baron car with it's Nazi helmet as the cab of the vehicle and the kick ass engine that it sported? Hot Wheels also had so many killer tracks that you could buy and race cars on. Damn I loved those orange slats of plastic that were held together with smaller tongue like pieces of plastic. Not to mention those tracks were good for sword fighting or smacking your siblings with when your mom sent you to your room after taking away your Plane on a string toy!

Matchbox just had miniature versions of the real cars like the Pontiac Station Wagon or the Ford Panel Van. In my mind the Matchbox cars were the generic brand of toy vehicles and certainly looked the part. I don't even recall whether Matchbox made a race track for their vehicles or not, but you certainly could run them down the Hot Wheels track just fine.

Overall I think Hot Wheels just had the better accessories not to mention the better looking cars.

Lastly, though I won't compare it to anything, because in all actuality there is really no comparison. Right next to the Verti bird, my next favorite Christmas toy was the Big Wheel. Man did I love that thing. Who was the bad boy cruisin' round the streets of San Jose on his spankin' new bad ass Big Wheel? Me that's who. It was so awesome to get peddling as fast as you possibly could and then just hit the proverbial brakes by instantly stopping the pedal motion and holding the big front wheel from spinning, resulting in a skid for the ages. When they came out with the hand break on the rear wheels it was even more fun to get up to top speed and slide out sideways. Eventually you would ware a flat spot in the Big Wheel from all of the skidding and you would have to ride around with a "flat" tire that couldn't be repaired.

Taking it off of jumps was pretty sweet too, although I don't think I ever really caught as much air as I believed I had. I once tried to get my little sister to lie down under the jump so that I could try to see if I could clear her like some sort of pre-pubescent Evel Knievel. She would never stay still long enough for me to try, and it's probably just as well looking back on it.

So there you have it. As with most of my lists it is not comprehensive and is certainly open for debate or elaboration on the part of the reader.

Of course in reading this, one might wonder how I ever managed to get anything out of Santa at all. It would seem that I should have been on the naughty list every year for using my toys as torturous weapons against my siblings. Come to think of it, had I been given lumps of coal as the legend goes, I may have had a small fortune built up and not been a broke ass adult begging people to buy him video Ipods or classic Verti-bird helicopters! Damn it Santa, you ripped me off!

Culturalization

I like to think that I am somewhat of a cultured individual. I have been to the opera, ballet, theatre, (I even spelled theater the English way. That should prove that I have culture). I enjoy, and can talk competently about fine wines. I can tell the difference between Van Gogh and Picasso, I have eaten escargot at French restaurants, and been to the symphony. I can mingle with society types with the best of them I believe, and all of this, despite my parents up-rooting me from Northern California at an early age, and ploppin' me right smack dab in the middle of probably the least cultured part of the planet, Heber City, Utah.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to immerse myself in these particular things, but I have certainly found enjoyment in them at times, and feel like I am a better person for having had the experiences. No, I would much rather spend an afternoon watching Utah kick BYU up and down the football field than go to the opera. I enjoy low brow, even crass humor, much more than the hilarity of the Magic Flute. However there are still some things of a cultural nature, that I would like to do before I depart from this earthly realm.

I need to visit the Louvre, enjoy Michelangelo's masterpiece on the Sistine Chapel in Rome, in fact I should probably just visit Europe in general. But there is one thing that I need to try that is associated with culture, at least as far as I can deduce, that I have never seen nor used,to date. I know of their existence, and am intrigued. I am speaking of the bidet.

I saw one once on the Crocodile Dundee. "It's for washin' your backside" he says. This movie single handedly sparked a fire deep within my soul to live the high society lifestyle so that I could have access to such a gift from God as a bidet.

I have to admit that it seems like it would be a useful instrument to have lying around your bathroom, but alas I have never had the opportunity. Many is the time that I have wished I had one. Think of the ramifications it could have on the environment by reducing or eliminating toilet paper. Perhaps this is the "go green" business opportunity that I have been looking for. I need to get right on this, and if any of you think of stealing my idea, remember, I have said it before, I am quite litigious!

Through my train of thought, I got to wondering about the logistics of using a bidet. For example, I know that I don't particularly enjoy it when I get a back splash from a plopper. Who does? So then I get to thinking that shooting a stream of cold water up your bum might not be so pleasant despite the obvious up side to being able to have a nice clean crevasse. Let's say you go ahead and utilize one, then what? Is there a wash cloth handy for the dirty work? Is there a bar of soap? Do you have a towel rack next to the bidet for wash cloths and towels? And what of the wet towel and wash cloths if this is the case? Is there laundry basket in proximity for damp bum towels or do you just drop them on the floor and let "the help" take care of that? I imagine that you don't want to be drying your face off with a bum towel and I certainly don't want to be the one rounding up the wet bum towels for the laundry. I suppose it would definitely necessitate having "people" to do that for you.

I would think that you must dis-robe to use a bidet, at least your pantaloons. I can't imagine that you could effectively just drop your drawers and have much success without incidental water coming in contact with your pants, thus creating a whole other issue of walking around with wet trousers subsequent to partaking of the cleansing power of the bidet.

Yep, I have lots of questions about the bidet. It seems like a pain in the ass, well not literally, but it sure seems like the benefits would outweigh the trouble, and is something that I would like to experience some day.

Thank You

The Northern Hemisphere is firmly entrenched in Autumn. The mountains have begun to don their snow caps, the leaves have turned colors and begun to fall from the outstretched branches on which they had been perched for the previous months. The eleventh month has arrived and it has been designated a time of reflection on the last year. We are given the opportunity to express our gratitude for those things that have enhanced and made our lives worthwhile. A season of graciousness and giving is now upon us and in honor of this, I think I will compile a list of things that I am thankful for, again, in no particular order. Now I don't want y'all taking exception that I am not listing the traditional things such as family, friends, job, etc. Those things are a constant just as the sun will always rise in the East. I want to give thanks for those things that may not get props on a regular basis or that only happen on occasion.

1. Caffeine: What can I say about caffeine that most people don't already know. It is the life's blood of all that is good and decent. I am consistently thankful for the substance that daily, jolts me into production. Whatever form you prefer to have it delivered into your blood stream is good. I like the coffee, followed closely by the Diet Mt. Dew. I would probably take it intravenously, however I am a needle phobe and well, we all know that isn't a realistic delivery system albeit extremely effective I am certain.

2. High Definition Television: What did I ever do before I obtained my 50 inch plasma screen high definition television? One of God's greatest gifts to man is the gift of life, but what kind of life would it be without the crispy clear picture of a high definition telee? I honestly can't watch a program in regular definition any more. I hate it, it's like I am blind. I thank God for my Television and the accompanying programming. It is truly one of my favorite things.

3. The 49ers finally fired Mike Nolan: It's no big secret that I am a humongo 49er faithful. Ever since my child hood growing up in Northern California I was a die hard fan. I suffered through a lot of bad years to get to the glory days of the 80's and early 90's of being a Niner's fan. In recent times this once proud franchise has plummeted in to relative, well, irrelevance. The coach for the last 4 years had been Mike Nolan whose father was once the coach. He came with high hopes along with history and expectations. But the team consistently stunk it up under the Nolan regime. I couldn't stand listening to this man speak. He made no sense to me when he talked. He drove the team into the ground and I have been saying for awhile now that he needed to go. Actually the ownership needs to go as well, but I have high hopes for Jed York who is taking a more hands on approach to the team. Back when Eddie Debartalo owned the team he had the ship going in the right direction until his indiscretions and he had to leave my beloved Niners to his sister and her lame ass husband. Eddie says that Jed has the right stuff and I sure hope he is right. Meanwhile I am thankful I don't have to listen to that blathering idiot Mike Nolan. Now I get to hear about Samurai Mike Singletary dropping his pantaloons in the locker room at half time to demonstrate the ass whoopin' that they were taking at the hands of an equally bad Seattle team. Thank you 8lb 6oz baby Jesus for getting rid of a lame duck coach and bringing us one of the greatest linebackers to play the game.

4. The Utes are 10 and 0: We have two more games to go, to repeat the accomplishments of the 2004 Ute team that won the Fiesta Bowl. I am mostly thankful that BYU lost to TCU, opening the door for Utah to jump ahead in the BCS standings and have a chance to repeat their historical year in 2004. If they don't stumble this week at San Diego it sets up a huge game at Rice-Eccles Stadium on November 22nd. The last few years BYU has been able to eek out a last minute win against the U, but this year will be different. Go Utes!

5. Rib Eye Steaks: Seasoned to perfection and grilled to medium rare. I love to grill and who can resist a beautifully marbled piece of rib eye steak? It has to be one of the most delicious of God's wondrous blessings to mankind. I know some may say the Fillet, but as for me and my house I will serve the Rib Eye.

6. Bush only has 68 days left as President: Is there anyone left out there that thinks Bush has done right by our great nation? I know there has to be, after all his approval rating is in the teens! Forgive me for bringing politics into my blog, but I am indeed grateful that America has grown weary of business as usual. I don't know that Obama will be the great white, I mean black, hope that people believe him to be, but I certainly don't think he can do worse. I will however, miss playing the "do a shot of tequila" every time Bush says "nucular" game, during his speeches! My liver however will be thankful that he is leaving.

7. Breakfast Cereal: Anyone who has kids can appreciate and give thanks for the idea that you don't have to wake up every morning and make breakfast like in the olden days. Drop a box of Count Chocula on the table in the morning, along with a bowl and a spoon, and voila! Happy kids, happy parents.

8. The Dick in a Box video: If you haven't seen this masterpiece then you have been sorely deprived of one of the truly magnificent creations to ever grace the airwaves. Saturday Night Live has given us many, many great memories over the years, but in my opinion none as wonderful as this video. For those of you who are offended by the title of the song, well perhaps you should not partake, but I highly recommend that you watch it here

9. The Dollar Menu at McDonalds: You gotta love it, oh wait that is Hot Rod Hundly. I'm lovin' it is Mickey Dees. Being a poor social worker as I am, one must continuously be on the look out for ways to conserve coinage. Also being a fat man I have to get the most bang for my buck. One must agree that the golden arches has a way of hitting the spot, and for just a measly buckarooni you can get a satisfyingly delicious samich. Many is the time that I have made the trek to acquire me some good ol' dollar menu selections and come away satisfied that I got filled and didn't have to spend a lot of money. Now granted, my blood delivery system may not be quite as thankful for these greasy delights, but I sure am.

10. Rock Band: Now I don't know about you, but me, I will never get to fulfill my dream of becoming an actual rock star. But now, thanks to Harmonix and MTV, over the hill dreamers like myself can have the next best thing. Drop your air guitars and drums fellas and get yourself the Rock Band. It is so kick ass. I loves me some Rock Band, this game is a hoot. Don't give me the Guitar Hero argument, this is so much better. So much so in fact that Guitar Hero created their own version called World Tour. I have yet to play it, and I am sure it is a very nice platform, but either way, I must give thanks to them all for letting an old man live out his dream of rockin' out.

So there you have it, a non-comprehensive, yet adequate list of things that I am thankful for at this current point in time. Again, feel free to add to this as you see fit.

Clownin' Around

I wonder who made the decision that clowns were a good thing? You see them at the circus running around with all that makeup on and crazy floppy feet, and they are supposed to make you laugh. In fact it is quite the opposite. This spectacle is what nightmares are made of. They aren't funny. Not one little bit. They are freakin' scary. Clowns are evil everyone knows it, yet circus culture still tries to propagate the notion that they are somehow entertaining. They are not. Hollywood knows they are evil, just look at all of the movies that have evil clowns in them, there are a plethora, and the clown is always evil. Two little letters for you, I T. That was one crazy mutha effin' clown.
Did you know there are various types of clowns? Yeah, it's true. Do a Wiki search and you will see all of them. I couldn't even read the article because I was getting a bad case of the heebie jeebies again. Shiver!
There is even an actual word for being afraid of clowns, Coulrophobia. I must apologize, for I am struggling to get through this piece, and I have yet to post the visual aids to accentuate my point. I must forge on.

Perhaps Krusty the clown is an exception to the scary clown premise that will prod me to continue. The Simpsons try to make him out to be a beloved Harlequin whom the children love. But really, who ever heard of a clown that children love? Nope, I am sitting here looking at the bobble head Krusty I have on my desk and he too looks miscreant to me. I would put him away in my file cabinet, but I just know he will show up the next morning, back on my desk. Just staring back at me, communicating telepathically, "you think you can get rid of me sucka? I will kill you! I will murder you dead if you EVER, put me back in that metal box!"

Ronald McDonald? Please give me a break. That freak is, well, just that, a freak. Sure he tries to do right by the children with his Ronald McDonald house for families of sick children to stay in, while the kid is in treatment at the hospital. This however is only making amends for the fact that Ronald is still just a clown and clowns are sinister. McDonalds has to do something to counter balance the evil, you know yin-yang.

Bozo the Clown? Please that clown must have molested unsuspecting children all through the 50's and 60's before it was really discovered just how diabolical clowns really were.

Clarabell the Clown? Just look at this dude. A) his name is Clarabell...isn't that a chick name? B) tell me this picture of he/she isn't scary? This picture reminds me of another very intense individual whose driver's license has almost the same picture on it, minus the make up. You know who you are, and I better not see you show up to work in clown make up or you're fired!

If your opinion differs from mine on this subject matter, I don't want to hear it. Clowns are, have always been, and will always be, malevolent. "But Rich" you say, "they are just people under all of that white face paint." Look, I'm sure that the individuals that are putting on these horrific disguises are most likely wonderful people in their human form, but I believe once you don the makeup and costume, it's like that Jim Carrey movie The Mask. It takes over you and you in fact become an alter ego that is nefarious.
Nope, clowns have no place in our society, Eff you clown. Eff you.

Haiku Ka Choo

I have decided to honor you all with a series of Haiku's for your reading enjoyment.


Cat

Cat independent
You think you own, but you don't
Hair balls; eff you cat

Dog

Much better than cat
Sure they lick balls then lick you
Happy to see you

Mornings

Mornings are the worst
Coffee life's blood; must have you
Stupid Governor

SCUBA
Breath under water
Visibility endless
I need more SCUBA

Simpsons
Cartoon family
Dysfunctional family
O.J. killed his wife

Music
Melodic rhythm
Good beat and can dance to it
I give it a ten

Winter

Cold snow blankets all
Looks pretty, no fun to drive
Go away Winter

The Demise of Radio

I realize that I am getting older. Everyday I do or say something that is a cold, hard slap of reality in the face. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I am old just yet. But when I can't move because my back is Eff'd up or I look at the resplendent waves of whiskers in my goatee, I can see father time taking his toll on me.

But today I became overly contemplative about my senectitude (SAT word of the day) due to a simple a thing as listening to the radio. You might go straight to the NPR card, but no, not so. This day I turned on the radio as I drove in to work and I hear a tasty gem from the 70's era by The Commodores. The funktastic, Brick House. The very first concert I ever went to was The Commodores, I am not ashamed, I loved it. This is still one of my top 5 concerts ever.

This, however is not the reason I am pondering my agedness.

So I am bustin' a funk groove in my car, (it's dark outside so no one can really see just how white and foolish I am, as I bounce and funk it up) and the damn, idiotic morning "disc jockeys" and I use this term loosely, begin talking over the song.

I have two pet peeves, ok I have more, but as they pertain to the radio I have two.

A) I absolutely HATE it when a radio station cuts the end of a song off. This drives me insane.

B) Don't EVER, EVER, EVER talk over the song.

.

Both of these things are just like nails on a chalk board to me. Ok deep breaths Rich.

I decided a few years ago, that I have grown to despise morning radio. I feel that they contribute absolutely nothing to society nor do I find them amusing at all. These morons this morning were making feeble attempts at humor (talking over the music) about this song and failing miserably. I just don't get it anymore. I used to, but I no longer have the patience for such idiocy. Hence my oldness. I feel like the old man on his porch, shaking his fist and yelling at the kids to "get off my lawn!"

Back in the day I lived to listen to Jon and Dan in the morning on 103.5. I thought those guys were the best and would go out of my way to listen religiously. Once they broke up and went away, I moved on to Jimmy Chunga and the various partners he had. I particularly enjoyed he and Mister West. Hell I even won an all expense paid trip to Greece from them, so I had reason to like them. The other program I enjoyed and in a pinch I still tune in, is the Radio from Hell on X96. However, by and large I have just grown weary of all the yammerin' and stupidity that is propagated by these people.

To make matters worse a lot of stations have afternoon drive time "disc jockeys" (still using the term loosely) and they do and say the same damn shit. Maybe it's just me, but what ever happened to listening to the radio to, oh I don't know, LISTEN TO THE MUSIC? (Doobie Brothers) I just hate them so much! Radio DJ's, not the Doobies.

"But Rich" you say, "why don't you just listen to your Ipod?" Good question my friend. Now don't freak out when I tell you this, but I don't own an Ipod. Ok that is a small lie. I own one but it is broken and it's a old piece of dung. (much like the steaming pile of feces that these alleged radio DJ's produce, wrap it in tin foil, attach fish hooks and call them ear rings.) The thing just gave up the ghost about a year ago. Being a poor social worker, I haven't the monetary wherewith all to replace it with the one I really want, the 80 gig video Ipod. I am like the only one that doesn't have one. That plus I would need to purchase a fancy shmancy transmitter thingy mabobby to make it work with the radio so I could listen in the car.

Sure I could listen to CD's and I often do. I know right? You kids thought CD was a dead technology. Gone the way of the LP and cassette tapes.

So pity me people, feel my pain. I don't have an Ipod and I hate morning radio. I don't know how I manage to make it into work every morning under such extremely torturous circumstances either.

If you really cared about me you would get me a black 80 gig Ipod, thats all I'm saying.