I see Brown, I see Red!

Today I feel the need to question authority. A need to question laws, both existentially and divine. Maybe I need to wonder if as a nation, it is possible to become brain-washed? Or, how could a government allow wholesale mind-control, nay even participate in it?

Who pray tell is the culprit, the evil genius behind all this? Who has our country so addicted that we can't do anything without first lining up for our fix? Who is infiltrating our minds and consciousness, converting us from free thinkers, into subjugated tweakers, at the mercy of percolating doom machines.

I'll merely refer to them as TH. It could mean Top Hats, Tom Hughes', or many other combinations of those letters. Or, it may not.

I'll begin by saying I have nothing against free enterprise. I do not take issue with a company being profitable, by whatever means is morally possible. And I will also say that this is my own opinion, not supported by any group or organization, and not supported by any facts or information gained illegally or otherwise. This is pure conjecture, though it may be portrayed as truths. (There, in case someone from TH happens across this, I won't be sued, I hope.)

I will also stipulate that I enjoy much of the fare offered by TH, in moderation of course. I do not however, enjoy drinking TH coffee, which is a personal choice, one that may enable the still free-functioning thought processes that allow me to write this blog.

To my knowledge, there has not been a law passed by provincial or federal governments that grants TH coffee special status, and as such not subject to all the taxation or laws that govern our nation. Why is it that traffic laws in areas surrounding TH stores become nullified during peak rush hours? Namely before work, during lunch, and Sunday mornings? Long line-ups in Drive-Thru cause back ups sometimes 20 cars long into the street. Not to worry, if we want to go INTO the parking lot and actually get OUT of our cars to walk in for our cups of social demise, we can drive on the wrong side of the street, and get upset when someone driving on the correct side impedes our progress. No police officer in the nation would cite us for an accident caused due to that, right? Similarly, there are traditionally large sections of NO PARKING along the curb in front of, or at the side of TH store locations. Yet I continually see cars clogging turning lanes, or blocking traffic, as the drivers lurch in, "for just a quick second..." to get their insulated vats filled. Or, in some situations, tractor trailers parked at the side, causing massive chaos, as through traffic is forced to dart out and around them, at their peril. All this with very little consequence, as it seems law enforcers turn a blind eye to laws that impede free access to the brown nectar.

If you have read my prior postings, you may be aware that I was raised as a Catholic, an observing one. In all my years as such, I was never aware of the 11th Commandment, "Thou shall have unhindered access to TH coffee". In studies of world religions, I have never come across a similar tenet of faith that guaranteed TH as a divine right. Yet, we feel completely free to bring it with us wherever we go. Going to the grocery store, better stop for one. Going to the hardware store, jeez, swing by the Drive-Thru. Going to work, wow, really need one. Going to the mall, great, don't have to stop, we'll get one there. Here's the one that actually prompted this rant, I was reading a post on FB, that someone actually had the nerve to bring some to CHURCH!!! Talk about a feeling of Divine Rights!

I find it repugnant that I cannot go to Walmart without seeing a full third of people trolling the aisles with a familiar paper cup clutched in their hands. What is especially offensive is finding their empty cups stashed on shelves or in empty spaces behind fire extinguishers. Did the associate from store standards sign up to be your maid? Probably not.

Does the standard shopping cart come with a cupholder? Nope. So this forces people to abandon any semblance of manners and grip the cup by its edge in their front teeth when they have to actually pick up an item. Luckily in our country dental work isn't covered by our universal medical care. How many orthodontic procedures would be required to cure the "paper cup over-bite"?

How much revenue is lost in businesses due to people bringing in their own TH? In Walmart alone, the losses must be huge. Every location has its own McDonalds outlet, which sells coffee. I'm not going praise the virtues of McDonalds, but why should it suffer at the hands of a competitor, inside its own premises? How many local arenas, curling clubs or sports facilities suffer lost concessions? I support my children's development, sure, but not if it is going to get in the way of my fix!

I applaud our local bowling alley. Posted prominently on their door is a sign that reads "NO Outside Food or Drink, This includes TH". I used to love to sit while my kid played in the youth league and watch the faces of the incensed parents who, true to their conditioning, stopped off on the way, only to have to take it back to the car and let it go cold. "What do you mean I can't bring it here, it's TH?!?" I enjoy Diet Pepsi, but they only sold Diet Coke. Guess what I drank at the bowling alley?

People need to ask themselves, "Do I really need to drink it?" Is it really necessary to bring it to school, to work, to the store, to CHURCH? It is possible to brew coffee at a location other than a TH, you can do it at home, even. People have done it for centuries.

Often those folks who have the unfortunate addiction to smoking are looked down upon, because they cannot go hours and hours without lighting up. I say we should cast that downward glance further afield, and gaze upon those who can't make it from breakfast to lunch without getting the jitters. Those who can't sit through an assembly at their child's school without a cup of lost free will. Those who can't last the 40 minutes or so it takes to pick out their family's food for the week. Gaze downward on them, until they can gain the necessary perspective to function in life.

I'll end this by saying don't quit drinking coffee, just quit letting it run our lives. Let's have one significant memory of a special event that doesn't include a brown paper cup somewhere in it.

Let's try something crazy, and have a cup of tea, instead.

I got what I wanted for Christmas...AND it fits Perfectly!!!

So, every year someone talks about how it's the little things that make Christmas special. Every year you think, "yeah, right...". But I'm here to tell you, there may be something to it...

I grew up in a family with 4 kids, and Mom and Dad weren't rich--we never wanted for anything, but let's just say we weren't Rockefellers. We were also a religious family, not pounding door to door with bibles, but we went to church every week, and especially on holidays. So when Christmas came around, we each got one big present, the "whatever" we really really wanted, and some smaller ones. We planned our festivities around the times we went to church, and even though as a child you didn't relish the time spent there, there was a certain magesty about it that lent a festive solemnity to Christmas that made it special. I still remember the lighting of advent wreaths, and the massive nativity scene that was set up in our parish church every year, celebrating the birth behind the holiday.

Christmas meant more than just the gifts we received, not that I'm complaining about the gifts, I LOVED the gifts. It's just that there was two parts of Christmas, the presents AND the religion. It often gets overlooked in the commercialized hubbub of today that Christmas is a celebration of Christ, not a celebration of Toys 'R' Us, or Walmart or any other large retailer. Just recently this was shown to me by my daughter, who goes to our local catholic school, when she received a Virtue Award, for celebrating the virtue of Hope in December by reminding her classmates that Christmas wasn't just about presents, it was about Jesus. I was there in the gym when she received her certificate and watched her proudly display it, and it was my first gift this Christmas.

It can be easy to feel resentful of Christmas, when you think about all the money required to have a "perfect" Christmas. This year finds me unemployed at the holidays, so I am extra conscious of the pennies spent in pleasing our kids. I don't subscribe to the notion that they have to have the most stuff of any kid in school, but I also don't want them to feel like they are short-changed. I don't resent buying them stuff they'll enjoy, just that feeling that if they don't have as many presents as the Jones', I'm being a neglectful parent. No parent wants to deny their child happiness, but should we feel we have to spend our last shekels buying it?

"I may not be rich in material things, but I am rich where it
counts..."

This line comes in many fables and fairy tales, but it has some validity to it. I can be rich if I have many valued friends. I am definitely rich if I have my family around me. I can assure you that there is only one moment in one's life that's more desolate than when Christmas Eve comes around and you are alone. That moment is when you are done watching your kids open their presents, you see how happy they are, then you have to leave.

The best gift I have ever received was when my wife and I, separated for more than two years, reconciled. It wasn't at Christmas, but it I still count it a gift every day, and every special occaision that requires the giving of gifts. It completes my list, every time. It gave me back the one person I was meant to be with, and it gave me back my family. It cost nothing, yet it is the only gift that keeps on giving. Giving moments of both extreme happiness, and extreme frustration, and all the little points in between.

So indeed, it was with great relief that I surveyed my children's happy faces this morning as they tore into their lovingly wrapped packages (my beautiful wife is to thank for that, not me). We managed to pull it off for one more year. Even as those happy children, only a few moments later, ripped into each other, I still thanked the Lord for my gifts this Christmas, because they fit just perfectly.

If I had a Million Dollars...

Have you ever laid your head down upon your pillow at night, after going that afternoon and taking that leap of faith and purchased a lottery ticket. There's that moment of certainty, that THIS time, there's no doubt, that THIS time it'll be YOUR number called out when all the little ping pong balls fall into the tubes. Isn't that feeling wonderful?

First thoughts: Depending on how much money you're going to win, is "How much money can I give away to my family and friends, and still be filthy rich?" Now, this is a valid question, because giving away a chunk of the money is vital--it saves you from appearing to be greedy, and it ensures that if your relatives win money they give some back to you. More importantly, if you're like me, and you offer a small prayer for success, you are getting on the good side of the Lord about the good works you will do if he just this one time, alters the goings on down here for your benefit. It never hurts to enlist His aid. It never seems to amount to much in terms of dollars and cents won, but you are certainly going to lose if you say, "Lord, I'm going to keep every last penny, buy the mortgages on my family's homes, foreclose and make a killing. Mom and Dad have an absolutely GREAT location..."

Now, once you've got the good deeds out of the way, and you're still filthy rich, what is the first thing you want to buy, for YOU? For me, it has always been about a car. A Mustang, to be exact. I've wanted a really souped up, hot rod, fancy one since I was old enough to hear the throaty rumble, and read 5.0 on the side of the car. The conundrum: Do I buy an old classic one, or a new modern one? Ford has really aided this decision recently as they have gone quite retro in the design of my dream car. I can have my cake AND eat it too! Yay, me!

Of course, driving a Mustang in the winter can be dangerous, with all that power and torque. Besides that, driving a muscle car in winter is for those that can't afford a beater. Let's buy an SUV, they're safer in bad weather, right? Can anyone say, Lincoln Navigator? A black one, with all the bells and whistles. That should suffice. It also serves a use, I can tow my boat with it, or my snowmobile trailer. Gotta be practical, right?

My wife needs a new car too, whatever she wants. Pretty sure she wants an Escape. Maybe if we show up at the dealership with a wad of cash we can get a really good deal? Maybe at cost...Just because I'm rich, it doesn't mean I want to waste money. And as for our van, our perfectly good minivan, that we both really enjoy driving, and is the nicest vehicle we've owned to date: I'm sure we have a friend who'll buy it from us. Even if we sell it at a loss.

So now I've got a bitchin' ride, I've helped out my family and bestowed my benevolence upon my friends. I'm really a good guy, aren't I? What do I need now? Um, a house, that's what. I need a NICE house, to reward myself for being so nice. Do I build, or do I walk up and knock on the door of the house I've been drooling over since I moved to this town and make an offer? I know, I'll hire a contractor to copy that house, and build it on the edge of town, with a few upgraded amenities, to suitably thank me for being me.

Here's the house dilemma. I would love a big house, but not too big. A really big house is hard to clean, and it's very pretentious to have a live-in maid. Also, if your house is really big, people want to come and stay over all the time, which can be annoying. I like my privacy. I also like guests, I just want them to go home at the end of the day. It has to be set amongst trees, just not so many that they lose too many leaves and make it hard to rake, or make it hard to grow grass. It also has to have a big piece of property around it, big enough for a long driveway with trees set on either side, and big enough to play with my outside toys. Just not so big that it has to be so far out of town that I can't even buy milk without having to drive for 20 minutes.

So I've now gotten my perfectly sized house, with just the right amount of trees and property. I'm laughing now right? Not really. I have to decide on pools. Do I try to be economical and set up a nice above-ground with a nice surrounding deck? Or do I go in-ground? I mean, I AM rich, aren't I? It has to be in-ground. But do I go oval, rectagle, or kidney shaped? And not being a strong swimmer, do I make it all one depth throughout, so I don't drown? Hmm, it's not easy being me, let me tell you.

The pool question also brings up the hot-tub issue. How many people should it fit? Luckily we're on the edge of town, so privacy is not a real issue. I can spa in my "natural state" without having to erect a shelter (get your mind out of the gutter). However, do I want one attached to my pool, like on TV, or one that is of nice maple construction and tucked in close to my expansive deck? It's hard being rich.

Finally, toys. I've always wanted a motorcycle, but my mother is dead-set against them. Can't upset mother too much, she is getting older. A boat, but I can't really swim that well, so water isn't my best friend. I guess I need to answer the age-old question of ATV vs. Snowmobile. We don't live in the great northland, so there isn't much snow to ride a sled on. I'm not a huge fan of riding 4 wheelers, though they can be a little amusing. I DO need a toy to haul behind my Navigator, to justify its ownership. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know. The compromise would seem to be, buy one of each. However, experience tells me that watching someone ride a recreational vehicle isn't nearly as fun as riding one with them. You simply must have at least two. Guess I'll have to buy two of each. There's really no way around it, can't have bored friends and family watching me have fun, it's not very good hospitality. I can't have them going home that night, thinking I'm a bore, now can I?

All the sudden, it's very late when you look at the clock, and you have to wake up early. It's time to ask His help again, to make sure you don't win the lottery. It may be more hassle than it's worth, and you're luckier not winning.

Well, not sure if I'd go that far...

And Now We Present,...Kind of.

So, it's Sunday morning, and we've had a bit of a sleep-in. We go down to the living room and watch of all things, an encore presentation of the MTV Music Awards. Then it strikes me, something that annoyed me when I watched the AMA's, and really ticks me off when I watch a talk show where musical guests perform. Or do they really?

Why on earth, as singers, do people feel it's more important to dance and flit around the stage, then it is to do the one thing that made them famous?

Onto the stage, to great applause, struts Beyonce, a beautiful woman, and ultra-talented singer. She sings a few bars of one of her ballads, then as the background music switches to a bouncy song about putting a ring on a likable choice, she dances a rigorous routine, all the while singing perfectly in tune and with great strength, without raising the microphone to her lips once. Huh? Would it have interrupted her choreography?

The most amazing aspect of the performance, was that she was received with a standing ovation. Did not one of the thousands of people present see that it wasn't her singing, it was a recording?

Later in the show, Pink, another ultra-talented singer managed a very good rendition of her song , "Sober", while also managing a very credible circus-style trapeze performance, 30 feet above the stage. She barely missed a note, and she also didn't plunge to her doom, so surely it is possible to sing while doing something else. I'm not sure that the circus act related all that well to her song, but it sure as heck was a cool performance, all the while doing something that only Pink could do, sing a Pink song.

Did Beyonce do something that only one person in all the world could do, sing like Beyonce? No, she did something that millions of people around the world could do, dance to a Beyonce song. That she did it well, and looked nice doing it are irrelevant, there are starving dancers and exotic performers anywhere that could have done it just as well, and, in some cases, for only a 20 dollar bill.

One more performance on an awards show has a burr placed squarely under my saddle, J-Lo on the AMA's. In the middle of throwing on her Louis Vuittons, she mimed a poor imitation of a boxer getting ready for a bout, ascended a stairway of her dancer's backs (don't even get me started on the reverse-sexist connotations of that act), fell flat on her ass, bounced up and gyrated like she was suffering a grande mal seizure, and strutted off the stage, without once uttering a single note. To great applause. In noting that she fell on her ass, the media lauded her courageousness and strength of character to get back up and continue on, never missing a beat. It is pretty easy not to miss a beat singing, when one isn't singing, isn't it?

There was a night-time talk show in the late 80's, early 90's (I think), The Arsenio Hall Show, where the host had one credo he applied to all musical guests: If you are going to sing on my show, then you ARE going to sing. No lip-syncing. Arsenio was offended way back then, that singers would try and foist a fake performance on their audiences. Why are we so different now, that not only do we accept it, we love it?

In a recent Ellen Degenerous Show interview, the host marvelled that her guest Lady Gaga actually sang at her shows. The singer is famous for onstage acts that not only baffle minds, but take quite a bit of physical effort. In answer, Lady Gaga laughed, and replied "I thought that is what we were supposed to do, sing...". Is she wrong, or have we just really lowered our standards as consumers?

What can we do to change this? I am not really an activist, or revolutionary, so I realize that there is very little to be done. I just hope that someday our stars and heroes tune into the fact that we love them recorded, and the sameness of our favorite songs when we hear them on our radios and CD's. But when they're live, we love the differentness that makes each performance special.

In closing, it begs the question, Would Woodstock be so memorable all these generations later, if they had bounced along to perfect recordings of their famous songs? Probably not. And that's probably why nobody's life has been changed by a Beyonce or J-Lo show.

Why It's Good to be ME.

I am not the coolest guy. This I know, and have accepted, though it has been far easier than anyone would have guessed. Want to know why? It's very easy, actually, it's because I am somebody's dad. Outlined here, you will find out some of the benefits, just read along and it'll enlighten you as to why dads are the way we are.

The first thing that you'll find is cool when you become a dad, is, it's okay to not be built like an Adonis. I'm not saying that I'm a sloth or look like Gollum, but those who know me would agree that I may be slightly more padded around the middle than Brad Pitt. The reasons why this is okay are many, but it starts with the simple fact is my work is done. I have attracted my mate (who is beautiful, BTW), and done my duty in propagating my line. The evidence is right there, two healthy, bright and shining examples of my success as a male.

Secondly, once you have a cute little child to present to the world, you simply become a prop, you are the pedestal on which they are set out for viewing. You answer a few questions, lug around the baby paraphernalia, and fade into the background. I wouldn't have it any other way either, as I know that I would rather look at a cute little kid, rather than a fully grown man, even one as pretty as Brad Pitt.

Then on to the attire. As someones dad, you will never be held totally accountable for not dressing in the latest fashions. It saves a tonne of money (a definite benefit), which you will need to save for later in life, when your little darling just has to have 150 dollar jeans, or an 85 dollar sweater!! (yeah, like I'm ever going to pay that much when Walmart has them for less than 40 bucks!) So, you might as well get used to shopping in the clearance section early in their life. Believe me, you can find some good bargains in there, and comfort can rule, when the pressure is off.

Dad's aren't cool, it's a fact of life. No matter what skate-board tricks you can pull, or dance steps you can master, you will never be cool to your teenager. (Remember the triumphant expression your Dad had on his face as he laboured through the "Running Man" at your high school dance, to which he HAD to be a chaperon, because he was a "cool dad". Fun times, huh?) This frees us to live the life we have always wanted to, but feared to do so because we wanted to fit in. Even though band WAS the coolest club at my high school, though nobody believes me in my family, as soon as my kids get to a certain age, band will become dorky. To a small child, a dad who loves to cook is awesome, a supplier of home baked delights, to a teenager, cookies have to come in a hermetically sealed package from the grocery store, or risk ridicule from their peers, that they're DAD made them. My point is this, if I ain't going to be cool anyways, I'm free to do whatever the hell I want to do, and enjoy doing it!

I know that these don't sound like good things, but if you think long enough, you can start to see the liberating qualities. Being a dad is a huge responsibility, a huger expense, and a life long commitment. We should reap what meager rewards we can, as often as we're able. So your Dad isn't simply chubby, or lame, or a fashion 911 incident. He's celebrating the honour and privilege, and exercising the rights, of being Somebody's Dad.

Things that bother me, Volume One.

Today I'm feeling somewhat acerbic. I think that perhaps I might say some things in this post that may come across as unkind, unchristian, and generally unlike my sentiments of yesterday.

So: I'm a complex guy, with many layers, like an onion. I'm not always going to be nice, consider yourself forewarned.

Let me first assert to everyone that, while I may be critical of others, I am fully self-actualized, and aware of my own warts and limitations.

Today I feel like talking about some of the things that bother me about people. One of my favorite past-times is to watch people. I love to sit in the food-court at the mall, and watch wave after wave of people go past, each caught up in their own little realities, unaware that I am adding a commentary to the action. I'm not a stalker or a pervert, it's just that many of them don't even know how annoying they are.

One of my biggest pet-peeves about people is ugliness. Yes, this seems harsh, but ugly is not good. Physical unattractiveness is not linked in my mind to size. I have seen beautiful girls who do not conform to the "ideal" size 2, and conversely, skinny does not necessarily equate to beautiful. Ugly comes in all shapes and sizes, and it is simply a matter of effort. Take the pride in yourself to comb your hair before you leave the house, to present yourself in clean clothes, to wear some (if you're a girl) make-up. You may think that nobody in the world cares about you, but if you don't care either, you're simply creating a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Here's where the water gets a little murky. Ugly isn't always skin deep. You may have been born in a nest high up in the ugly tree, fallen out, and hit every branch on the way to the ground, but you could be a beautiful person on the inside. I know, it's a cliche, but it's not always bad to be the one with "personality", it can outweigh many shortcomings. You may also be blessed with a figure like a mythical goddess, and have a face like a classical painting, but if your soul is black and shrivelled, it is painful to be around you.

One sure thing in life is that, as you get older, outer beauty fades, so you must have that special something, to survive the test of time. As the world's most interesting man, I say,

"Be beautiful, my friends..."

So, that being said, let's talk about stupidity. Mama always said, "Stupid is as stupid does..." and it sounds trite to agree to that, but it's true. Even genius IQ's can still think and behave like neanderthals, and come up with insanely crazy schemes (anyone remember a guy named Adolph?), that are misguided in the extreme. However, that may be a little grandiose for the purposes of this discussion. I am simply trying to say, stupid people bother me.

If you can't tell me the square root of a six-digit number without a calculator, that's fine, I couldn't either.

If you tell me that 2 plus 2 equals 5, and no amount of discussion will change your mind, you may be stupid. If you, in the course of a 6 word sentence, use 5 swear words, you may be stupid. If you...I could go on for ever with stuff like this, but it may get me into trouble with copyrights.

I really encourage people to think, just a minute before you say things. You have to ponder that if you say something, is it going to lower the number of active brain cells in a room, after energy is spent trying to translate the message you are sending. If this is what you are doing, you should just stop speaking. That's it, just stop.

"Don't hate me, because I'm beautiful."

This is a line I use quite often, to describe those misguided individuals who fail to sucessfully navigate the waters between beauty and intelligence. These are the people who are too old, and/or too fat, and/or too ugly, to rock their chosen attire or hairstyle, or general appearance. The kicker is, they truly think they are at their beauty's best. They are wrong. They are both ugly AND stupid, and as so, doubly annoying.

Lest you believe me to be a completely shallow, judgemental and hate-filled person, I shall leave off on this rant. For now. Be prepared for times in the future though, when I cannot contain myself anymore, and revisit these irritants.

Don't forget to turn off the light!!

I've turned into my father, in more ways than one. It's not that that is a bad thing, because my dad is a terrific guy, a great father and provider, and probably the smartest guy I've ever known. It's just odd, as I've never really thought of myself as like him.

I wander through the house, turning off lights that have been left on by my children, and I flash back to him saying "...if you're not in a room, you don't need light--TURN IT OFF!!" I go through the motions, telling my children, "Hey, turn it off!" and I can't help but wonder if he felt the same impulse I feel to squeeze them, just a little, just slightly hard.

I have two kids, a 12 year-old boy, and a 6 year-old girl. For the life of them, they cannot compute that an open door wastes money--my hard-earned money. In summer, it lets out our air-conditioned comfort. In winter, our warmth and coziness. I see red and reprimand (sometimes in a yelling fashion, I admit)

"Hey, you're letting all my heat/cold out! Do you think I want to heat/cool the planet!?!"

You can probably guess where I've heard that one before...

Being a dad isn't all frustration, there are many, many times where the warm glow is of pride and happiness, rather than the haze of rage. Every time I successfully answer a question that starts "Dad, why does...?" or "Dad, how does...?" I feel wonderful, I feel like I am the king of all knowledge. I remember a time when I was younger, on a cold winter morning, riding with my Dad to get firewood at my uncle's farm, when I asked him about of all things, a garbage truck, and he was able to explain to me the functionings and workings of not only the truck we saw, but the whole business, from our back step all the way to the dump. I'm not sure he remembers that occasion, but it sure stuck with me, so I can only hope that my mental meanderings holds some memory-value for my kids some day. Further to that, I hope fervently that they will be able to have memories like this with their own kids some day. (It will have to be a long time for my little girl, as she is prohibited from talking to boys until she is 30.)

I remember seeing my son score his first goal in soccer, see him take part in an Easter presentation at school, remember how proud he looked the first time he was able to spend his own money at Walmart, to buy a video game. (he also looked terrified). And for my daughter, I remember her feeble attempt to play soccer too, though she was more interested in holding hands with her first brown-person friend, (a little Asian girl). I remember her first dance recital, and the glow she had after reading a book for the first time all on her own. I remember all these and more, and I pity any dad who is too busy to spend quality moments like these with his kids.

My dad was and is a pretty quiet guy, so in that way I am very UNlike him, but I find myself becoming very thoughtful and quiet before I speak sometimes, I have to work things out before I voice them. My wife finds this trait increasingly annoying, and I remember being a little anxious sometimes myself when speaking to my dad. But, in our defence, sometimes it is very prudent to censor your thoughts before you blurt things out. After all, discretion IS the better part of valour.

So, I find myself becoming my Dad, in more ways than one, and I think that makes me pretty lucky.

A story involving sports, even my wife will read.

So, here's a statement; Tiger Woods is a great golfer. True enough, isn't it? Here's another; Tiger Woods makes a lot of money in endorsements. Also true. Another; Tiger Woods is a complete ass. Can't deny it, can you?

I for one, have never subscribed to the notion that he was above reproach, and that he was a great role model for our kids. Just watching him, time after time, pouting after a missed shot, or whining about noise when his drive went awry, is MORE than enough evidence to support the notion that he is actually the worst type of role model that we could set up for our kids. Imagine if your child repeatedly threw his bat down and complained about distraction every time he/she struck out, or threw a hissy-fit every time he/she missed getting a goal in soccer. You would take them aside, rather quickly I hope, and set the record straight about sportsmanship.

"Be gracious in defeat..."

a quote from a rather wise individual, (I just can't remember who". Not Tiger, we love him for it. Indeed, we give him accolades for his competitiveness, his drive to succeed. What are we, crazy?

Let me set the record straight about his being an african-american, suceeding in a "white-dominated" sport. Who cares? The times of playing the race card are now over. Welcome to 2009. Look in the NFL and the NBA, and tell me which race dominates. Simply put, race is irrelevant.

I had to put that in to illustrate that being an ass is multi-cultural. There is a veritable rainbow of asses. It takes a whole village to raise an ass...I can cliche all day about this.

So aside from being a whiny, impetuous loser, what else makes Tiger an ass. Well, how about 8 mistresses and counting...enough?

The guy has to travel all over to play golf in exotic places, poor guy. He gets lonely on the road, poor guy. He has all kinds of women available and throwing themselves at him, POOR GUY. He has a gorgeous (by any standards) wife, who by all accounts is a fun, caring and wonderful person, poor guy?

The answer is, not a poor guy. The answer is he's one lucky SOB, who almost anyone would love to change places with for one day. Just one day...ahh the things I could accomplish. The answer is, every time another girl steps forward saying,

"Tiger and I..."

his "assness" grows.

He doesn't owe anything to America, as I have already shown, he is a terrible role-model. He doesn't owe anything to african-america, there's plenty of representation for them. The only ones he owes anything to are his family, and he needs to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness for being such a huge, gigantic, (you guessed it) ASS!

Today I start my career as a Blogger

So, today I start my career as a blogger, hope you all find this interesting. I am going to attempt to tackle some of the day's issues, vent about things that make me grumpy, even tell some personal stories from my past. All this, for the low, low price for you of, nothing. Nada, zip, zilch, free. The only provisio you'll have, is that it will all be from my perspective, which may not be politically correct, popular, or even polite. It will all be coming to you from my view, a chubby white guy who is, very happily, Somebody's Dad.