CNN.com: Father kills man found sexually abusing his 4-year-old daughter. This should be the sentence for any child molester: beaten to death by the family of the abused.
ThisSortOfThing.com: a blog for the Star Wars fan in all of us. Take a look at the killer AT-AT bunk bed and video links to Star Wars raps/music videos by the incredible MC Chris.
Just in case you've never heard of MC Chris, click here for a link to his website. Then go check out "Hoodie Ninja", "IG-88", and "Fett's Vette."
BusinessWeek.com: Microsoft has put Apple on blast with the introduction of the Surface tablet.
DadCentric.com caught this article that I had missed on Adweek.com about the decline of portraying dads as bumbling idiots in advertising.
ForaysIntoFatherhood.blogspot.co.uk: We all are much more willing to dive into gross stuff than we would have ever thought.
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June 19, 2012
Step One: Father's Day (or What's In A Name?)
Father's Day was this last weekend, and for those of you who don't give it the attention that you do on Mother's Day, let me say that you are making the right decision. I would much rather my son make a big deal out of Mother's Day than Father's Day as he gets older. That being said, let's not leave it totally off the books either! There are a lot of dads that stay at home to take care of the family who deserve tons of respect, and there are others who go to work and then come home to play Power Rangers every day with only a fraction of the energy they had in their earlier years.
Today I want to talk about names. There is power in a name. Doubt me? If you're in a store and yell, "Sir!" odds are that only one or two people will turn around. Do the same thing with "John," and every John in the building will turn your way. When I was younger, I used to name my cars. I guess it gave a feeling of total ownership by bestowing a name upon a machine. When you're younger, your car is your pathway to freedom and destiny, and it must undertake a gravitas that it stops possessing when you're in your 30's and just need a way to get to work.
The first car I drove was my dad's old Dodge Dynasty. It really wasn't a bad car at all. And hey, it was more-or-less mine (at least when I had the keys in hand). I called it White Lightning. It was white, but didn't go particularly fast. I had little to no gas money, but a wealth of sarcasm.
The first vehicle that was specifically for me was my 1993 Ford Ranger: The Green Hornet. This truck was awesome! It drove great, had plenty of room to haul stuff around in the back, and by gosh it was mine.
After the Hornet was wrecked (not my fault), I drove my dad's black Mustang for a while. Man that was great! I called it Tupac ShaCar. My best memory with this car was watching my girlfriend/current wife as she helped me wash it before prom. She was properly attired in short shorts and a bikini top and it was fantastic. Just fantastic.
Before long I was in The Ghost, a 93 Grand Prix. I liked this car a lot and drove it for probably three or four years. I'll say this though, this was a car that really hated alternators and brakes because it rejected them about every 18 months.
Midway through college I got a Grand Cherokee named Chief Runs-On-Gas. This was my favorite vehicle to date. Plenty of room, ran good, very few repair issues. When the air conditioning went ka-put about four months before Sean was born, I had to replace it.
I did the right thing too... sort of. My wife was about to have a baby, and so I took on the Taurus she had since college and we got her a Grand Caravan. Nice huh? Too bad that van is the biggest piece of crap we have ever, EVER owned. Still I didn't get a new vehicle until a year or so ago when I got a Ford Escape. I haven't named it, maybe it's just not that important anymore since I've got Sean. And no, I haven't been able to get my wife to do another bikini carwash for me. Did I mention how fantastic that was? Just fantastic.
Sean is named for two paragons of manliness. Sean comes from Sean Connery, the greatest James Bond of all time and one of those old guys that is so cool he could walk up to the hottest of today's starlets, demand their underwear be placed in his hand, and succeed. His middle name is Logan, because of the X-Men's Wolverine. I had that name picked out since my teens, and I was lucky enough to marry a woman willing to let me go ahead with it. Let me quickly point out that I had "Logan" picked out a decade before everybody named every kid in the world "Logan" so I win.
My first name came from a super-boring source: a baby book. My middle name is Brandon, and my mom got that while looking at a "Where Are They Now?" issue of TV Guide and seeing Brandon Cruz from The Courtship of Eddie's Father. It would be a cool story if even a quarter of the people my age had heard of the show. I usually explain it by saying that Eddie's father was Bill Bixby, aka The Incredible Hulk. Then I walk away sadly decked head-to-toe in denim. I hitchhike down a lonely road with nothing but my hobo pack and melancholy piano music.
My dad's name is Fred, and he was named for his grandfather. Let me give you a snapshot of my dad: when we were at the hospital awaiting the birth of my son, we had a wonderful labor and delivery nurse named Tammy. My dad was there, but she didn't know his name. Dad asked her, "Tammy, if a baby boy is born, and he is the ugliest baby you've ever seen, what would be a good name for him?" Her answer was "Ummm...ok...I don't know...Fred?" It was golden. She was immediately embarrassed when she found out that was his name, but he was fishing for it and got her hook, line, and sinker.
I'm not sure why names were on my mind this Father's Day. I guess names represent who we are, and I would not be who I am without the fathers in my life. From my zoot-suit wearing paternal grandfather to my Air Force Veteran paternal grandfather to my dad, who is so assured in his faith that it is awe-inspiring, I owe all that I am as a man to these men. Heck, I'll even throw in my brother, who celebrated his first Father's Day as the father to a precious little girl. I hope you talked to your dad or grandfathers this weekend. If you didn't know them, I hope you called an uncle, a coach, or a neighbor who was a father to you when you needed it. Children need fathers and father figures in their lives, and we all owe them more than we can ever repay.
 |
| Voltron, the OG of robotic animal-driving fighting forces |
Today I want to talk about names. There is power in a name. Doubt me? If you're in a store and yell, "Sir!" odds are that only one or two people will turn around. Do the same thing with "John," and every John in the building will turn your way. When I was younger, I used to name my cars. I guess it gave a feeling of total ownership by bestowing a name upon a machine. When you're younger, your car is your pathway to freedom and destiny, and it must undertake a gravitas that it stops possessing when you're in your 30's and just need a way to get to work.
The first car I drove was my dad's old Dodge Dynasty. It really wasn't a bad car at all. And hey, it was more-or-less mine (at least when I had the keys in hand). I called it White Lightning. It was white, but didn't go particularly fast. I had little to no gas money, but a wealth of sarcasm.
The first vehicle that was specifically for me was my 1993 Ford Ranger: The Green Hornet. This truck was awesome! It drove great, had plenty of room to haul stuff around in the back, and by gosh it was mine.
After the Hornet was wrecked (not my fault), I drove my dad's black Mustang for a while. Man that was great! I called it Tupac ShaCar. My best memory with this car was watching my girlfriend/current wife as she helped me wash it before prom. She was properly attired in short shorts and a bikini top and it was fantastic. Just fantastic.
 |
| This is the only way it could have been better, but alas, she doesn't own this outfit. |
Before long I was in The Ghost, a 93 Grand Prix. I liked this car a lot and drove it for probably three or four years. I'll say this though, this was a car that really hated alternators and brakes because it rejected them about every 18 months.
Midway through college I got a Grand Cherokee named Chief Runs-On-Gas. This was my favorite vehicle to date. Plenty of room, ran good, very few repair issues. When the air conditioning went ka-put about four months before Sean was born, I had to replace it.
I did the right thing too... sort of. My wife was about to have a baby, and so I took on the Taurus she had since college and we got her a Grand Caravan. Nice huh? Too bad that van is the biggest piece of crap we have ever, EVER owned. Still I didn't get a new vehicle until a year or so ago when I got a Ford Escape. I haven't named it, maybe it's just not that important anymore since I've got Sean. And no, I haven't been able to get my wife to do another bikini carwash for me. Did I mention how fantastic that was? Just fantastic.
 |
| Pictures do exist, but she would clobber me. Instead, here's Brak. |
Sean is named for two paragons of manliness. Sean comes from Sean Connery, the greatest James Bond of all time and one of those old guys that is so cool he could walk up to the hottest of today's starlets, demand their underwear be placed in his hand, and succeed. His middle name is Logan, because of the X-Men's Wolverine. I had that name picked out since my teens, and I was lucky enough to marry a woman willing to let me go ahead with it. Let me quickly point out that I had "Logan" picked out a decade before everybody named every kid in the world "Logan" so I win.
My first name came from a super-boring source: a baby book. My middle name is Brandon, and my mom got that while looking at a "Where Are They Now?" issue of TV Guide and seeing Brandon Cruz from The Courtship of Eddie's Father. It would be a cool story if even a quarter of the people my age had heard of the show. I usually explain it by saying that Eddie's father was Bill Bixby, aka The Incredible Hulk. Then I walk away sadly decked head-to-toe in denim. I hitchhike down a lonely road with nothing but my hobo pack and melancholy piano music.
 |
| Do do do doooooooo, Do do do doooooooo.... |
My dad's name is Fred, and he was named for his grandfather. Let me give you a snapshot of my dad: when we were at the hospital awaiting the birth of my son, we had a wonderful labor and delivery nurse named Tammy. My dad was there, but she didn't know his name. Dad asked her, "Tammy, if a baby boy is born, and he is the ugliest baby you've ever seen, what would be a good name for him?" Her answer was "Ummm...ok...I don't know...Fred?" It was golden. She was immediately embarrassed when she found out that was his name, but he was fishing for it and got her hook, line, and sinker.
I'm not sure why names were on my mind this Father's Day. I guess names represent who we are, and I would not be who I am without the fathers in my life. From my zoot-suit wearing paternal grandfather to my Air Force Veteran paternal grandfather to my dad, who is so assured in his faith that it is awe-inspiring, I owe all that I am as a man to these men. Heck, I'll even throw in my brother, who celebrated his first Father's Day as the father to a precious little girl. I hope you talked to your dad or grandfathers this weekend. If you didn't know them, I hope you called an uncle, a coach, or a neighbor who was a father to you when you needed it. Children need fathers and father figures in their lives, and we all owe them more than we can ever repay.
June 13, 2012
One--Step Father Weekly Whatsis Links
Here are links and stories to get you through the rest of your week!
ESPN: If any politician in the state of Alabama mispronounced Nick Saban or Gene Chizik's name, they would never hold office, and might be exiled. Boston's mayor needs to get with it.
YouTube: I tweeted this earlier this week, but this is a very surreal and still encouraging remix of Mister Rogers by Symphony of Science.
This is a couple years old, but artist Adam Watson has redesigned Star Wars to resemble a Dr. Seuss story. Click here to link to his blog.
Ok, Zombie enthusiasts, the already filmed World War Z movie is not looking good.
For people like Roger Ebert who have long argued that video games are not a form of art, it would appear the most prestigious museum in the country would disagree: The Smithsonian's The Art of Video Games.
Here's a nice post by DidacticPirate on DadCentric.com about the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott, now being gay. It felt like a play for publicity to me, which is why they used a famous name but has-been character. It's good to see how the younger generation reacts to it.
CNN.com: It's never too late to get healthy for your family. This is the inspirational tale of Rich Roll, and I promise it doesn't link to "Never Gonna Give You Up."
CNN.com: Woman defends her house with a paintball gun. Impressive and cool, but the intruder was lucky it was just a Spyder MR1.
ESPN: If any politician in the state of Alabama mispronounced Nick Saban or Gene Chizik's name, they would never hold office, and might be exiled. Boston's mayor needs to get with it.
YouTube: I tweeted this earlier this week, but this is a very surreal and still encouraging remix of Mister Rogers by Symphony of Science.
This is a couple years old, but artist Adam Watson has redesigned Star Wars to resemble a Dr. Seuss story. Click here to link to his blog.
Ok, Zombie enthusiasts, the already filmed World War Z movie is not looking good.
For people like Roger Ebert who have long argued that video games are not a form of art, it would appear the most prestigious museum in the country would disagree: The Smithsonian's The Art of Video Games.
Here's a nice post by DidacticPirate on DadCentric.com about the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott, now being gay. It felt like a play for publicity to me, which is why they used a famous name but has-been character. It's good to see how the younger generation reacts to it.
CNN.com: It's never too late to get healthy for your family. This is the inspirational tale of Rich Roll, and I promise it doesn't link to "Never Gonna Give You Up."
CNN.com: Woman defends her house with a paintball gun. Impressive and cool, but the intruder was lucky it was just a Spyder MR1.
June 11, 2012
Step One: Value ( or The Great Pricing Quiz!)
Just in case you didn't know, Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers is the greatest American rock band of all time. I'm a huge fan, and still can't figure out how these guys make music that can be so chill and so melt-your-face at the same time. Recently I've been listening to their album The Last DJ. In the song that is the album's namesake, there is a line that I've always liked:
1. This shirt is very light and a little sheer. I feel like I see stuff like this is department stores regularly. How much do you think it is?
Correct Answer: $158
This shirt is worth enough to give 50 hungry people a fast food hamburger. It is also a little more than what we paid to our insurance company when my son was born. According to this retailer, this shirt is worth more than my son.
Correct Answer: $148
Really? For the cost of this one shirt, I could by a full suit when the right sale is on.
Correct Answer: $128
4. Well here's a shirt with a little more to it. Not heavy, but it isn't super light either. The pattern is nice, but I'm pretty sure every store in the world carries this. How much is this shirt?
Correct Answer: $248
Correct Answer: $128
Correct Answer: $10
Correct Answer: $15
As we celebrate mediocrity all the boys upstairs want to see
How much you'll pay for what you used to get for free.
How much you'll pay for what you used to get for free.
It's crazy how we just accept pricing. We may complain and even stop buying for a little while, but the inevitable shoulder-shrug of acceptance comes around and we're right back into it. I'm 32, so I can remember buying gas in high school for 94 cents per gallon. These days, I see it priced at $3.17 and follow up with a fist pump and "Score!"
I also nearly choke when I watch tv shows about fancy restaurants where the serving is incredibly small and the bill is incredibly large. It's not worth it, no matter how good the food is! There are a couple nice steak restaurants around here where the steaks are $50 each or higher! I'm here to tell you in no uncertain terms that I can go buy a steak from a grocery store or butcher for less than half that price and grill it myself with equal if not better flavor.
I also openly mock people that spend serious bucks on a single clothing item. If I see a pair of pants priced higher than $40, I want to know which pocket has the $10 bill in it. This dress shirt is $70? Is it made of golden cotton and diamond buttons? Seriously, I'll go by Target, Kohl's, Old Navy, etc, and get the same thing for way, way less. Unless we're talking about pants. In my case I'm either too tall for my waistline or too fat for my inseam. America's getting bigger around, and it's high time clothing companies went for the profit and catered to us! And do NOT get me started on seeing children's shirts cost as much as an adult shirt. That thing has like a third of the fabric, so where's my 66% discount you thieves!?
Tonight I went to a store called Anthropologie with Katie, and I was literally stunned at how proud these folks are of their goods. I mean dos every item in there have a deep personal value to each and every employee? So let's see how good you are at pricing this stuff. I present....
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| Miniature Vulcan's Badonkadonk! and also.... |
The Great One-Step Father Pricing Game!
The answers are in hidden text a few lines below each question, so all you have to do is highlight the space to get your answer! Write your results down and check your score with the handy scoring guide provided below.
Correct Answer: $158
This shirt is worth enough to give 50 hungry people a fast food hamburger. It is also a little more than what we paid to our insurance company when my son was born. According to this retailer, this shirt is worth more than my son.
2. This shirt has less material than the last. Sure it's nice, but you can get something like this almost anywhere. How much is this shirt?
Correct Answer: $148
Really? For the cost of this one shirt, I could by a full suit when the right sale is on.
3. This shirt is really freaking small. Don't get me wrong, I would love for my wife to wear something that would be this revealing. When I say this shirt is small, I mean it could be a dress for a baby. And by baby, I mean baby mouse. That small. How much is this shirt?
Correct Answer: $128
This shirt is a fancy napkin. This is two new games for my Xbox, which would give me hours upon hours of joy.
4. Well here's a shirt with a little more to it. Not heavy, but it isn't super light either. The pattern is nice, but I'm pretty sure every store in the world carries this. How much is this shirt?Correct Answer: $248
What the tapdancing heck?! Is there a decimal point missing? Do they seriously think this shirt is worth half my Christmas budget? The secret of spinning straw into gold had better be written out on the inside of this thing.
5. Now this is a dress. It's not a full dress, clearly, but it is a dress. More material involved, but I think you can get a bolt of fabric at Wal Mart for whatever piece of string you pull out of your pocket. Surely this is a reasonably priced item, right?
Correct Answer: $300
What. The. Heck. I'm on Punk'd, right? I will literally fight somebody over this. I will absolutely buy the fabric, sew the dress, and put it on a hanger with enough leftover to buy that shirt in question 4 for $300.
6. Time for a change of pace. This is a dishtowel. You will use this to wipe up the spilled spaghetti sauce on your counter or the puddle of tea in the floor. You'll wash your hands after taking out the garbage and use this towel to dry them. How much is this towel?
Correct Answer: $24
This is a dishtowel! I can get three of these for a fifth of the price! Please tell me you can wipe away the hurts of the world with this magical cloth. Can I put it on my head and disappear like with Harry Potter's invisibility cloak?
7. Let's consider this owl thing. The head comes off, so it's either a cookie jar or a warning to other owls. It's not big. I'd say smaller than a regulation-sized football. They sell these at every knick-knack corner of every store on earth. How much?
Correct Answer: $128
Let me check again to see if this cookie jar is full of priceless diamonds, Mary Hart's legs, and Jennifer Lopez's caboose. Nope.
8. Here's my beautiful wife holding a tiny teacup. This teacup could have been a prop for Bob Newhart's character in The Rescuers. Very sad people can own this thing and still claim that "their cup runneth over with joy." How much?
Correct Answer: $10
The only way I would pay $10 for this cup is if it was used by the ant messiah at the last ant supper.
9. Last one, and it should be easy. This is a case of bobby pins. Bobby pins are made by putting metal shavings in a box. There is more substance to a matchbox holding two staples. How much is it?
Correct Answer: $15
Again. Whaaaat? This cannot be possible. My wife buys bobby pins at Wal Mart in packs of 8 trillion for $1.97. Unless these are made of pure Bobby Allison with a dash of early '90's Bobby Brown, I'm gonna pass.
How did you do? Let's see what your score says about you.
0 correct: You are a regular person with a keen sense of value.
1-4 correct: You understand the lunacy of business. The tag is worth more than the clothing.
4-8 correct: I'm a little concerned about you. Surely you cheated by using the internet.
9 correct: You clearly shop at this store regularly which means you make too much money or are provided for by someone who makes too much money. I hate to say "You are the 1%" but a hippy with no work ethic and way too much time to participate in a drum circle should Occupy Your Bank Account.
June 8, 2012
Step One: Playing Safe (or Captain America versus The Rubber Ball)
I'm a pretty careful dad. There are plug covers in all our electrical outlets, knives and scissors are safely out of reach, and extended outdoor time is accompanied by sunscreen and bug spray. That's why it drives me nuts when things go wrong. I know accidents will happen and kids are tough, but preventable mishaps really irk me. Sometimes the unexpected strikes at moments of fun, and so prepare for a tale of action, adventure, and errant blame: CAPTAIN AMERICA VERSUS THE RUBBER BALL!!!
Our tale opens in the wake of The Avengers, the 4th highest grossing film of all time. (writer's note: If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and go now. Easily the best superhero movie of all time. For those screaming "The Dark Knight" at me, I think those films are a genre unto their own. A discussion for another time.) My son had received a Captain America mask and shield from some very dear friends for Christmas. He played with them on and off, but after seeing The Avengers with me, he could be seen wearing it and fighting invisible Hydra soldiers throughout our living room. Often Captain Sean-merica would also don a cape to enhance his super powers. Recently, our hero's arch-nemesis was a rubber yoga ball that my wife used during that week she did yoga. The ball is pure evil, as evidenced by its blue surface and empty, air-filled interior.
The Early Battles
Captain Sean-merica braces his shield, shifting his stance for balance and stability. A grimace and growl lets his enemy know he means business. The wretched ball, held by it's evil henchmen Daddy, pauses to pick its opportunity. With acceleration far beyond mortal spheroids, the ball launches directly at the Captain's face, but is no match for the enhanced Super Soldier speed of a pure vibranium shield. Bouncing harmlessly back to Daddy, the ball immediately launches again! It's a vicious cycle: launch, block, launch, block. The patriotic resolve of Captain Sean-merica is every bit the match for Ball's wicked ricochets. For every ten blocked attacks, ball is only able to penetrate his defenses once for a clean shot to a helmeted face. For now the standoff is only at a distance, but surely that will soon change.
Escalating Combat
This has gone on long enough. Captain Sean-merica has had his fill of simply blocking these non-stop attacks. It's time to press the advantage by taking it to Daddy! The ball comes flying and is deftly deflected by the stars and stripes! CHARGE! Pressing his body to his shield, shoulder planted firmly for maximum force, Captain Sean-merica rushes Daddy. Unable to retrieve Ball in time for the next volley, he has to throw up his hands to avoid being flattened! Again and again the shield is shoved into him, and all Daddy can do is keep our hero at arm's length. Occasionally sneaking in the dreaded Tickle Finger into the vulnerable belly of Captain Sean-merica, the battle has taken on new intensity. Captain Sean-merica pauses and informs Daddy that he may retrieve ball for one final thrust. But first...juice and a snack.
The Revenge of Ball
The final stage of this epic confrontation was set. While Daddy held Ball still, Captain Sean-merica would charge from the living room. Building momentum, the two would collide with wall-shattering force! Ball resisted the impact, and our brave hero was bounced back. A second charge led to the same results. The third and final charge was imminent. So serious was this final strike, that Captain Sean-merica removed his mask to better focus on his enemy. The charge. The impact. The shield bounced back and struck Captain Sean-merica in his unprotected face...
Game Over, Man
Nothing ends a game faster than a crying kid. Aw man, here comes Katie. What am I gonna do? It's not really my fault. I just held the ball while he bounced into it. We've done this a hundred times! Aw geez, he will not let me check on him. Ok, he's going to his mom. She's got him. He's still crying, but not as hard. What's that? What? Well now I feel like a complete piece of dirt.
Every battle has scars. Good doesn't always win. It's like the Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter trailer says: "History remembers the battles, but forgets the blood." Those are not the lessons for right now. The important lesson today is "Safety is always important." I want Sean to make his own mistakes. I don't want him to get hurt, but every failure is a lesson. Every bruise is new realization. I don't think enough parents do that these days. I've seen kids that were just a few weeks away from actual adulthood, maybe even college, do incredibly stupid things. The parents are right there when the authorities that be try to punish the kids. "They didn't hurt anybody!" "They're just kids" "This is ridiculous!"
That's not teaching a child. That's bailing them out. That's showing them that even when they mess up they shouldn't really get in trouble. That is not showing them how the real world is going to react when Mommy and Daddy aren't there to take up for them. That lack of taking responsibility for oneself is one of the biggest afflictions plaguing our country today. Everybody wants a bailout. There's always someone else to blame.
Great lesson, huh? But today, for a four-year old boy betrayed by his toy shield and play-partner daddy, there is only sadness. And for one daddy, there is immense guilt. Sean will get his revenge though. The next day at school, a teacher asked him (in front of his daddy) "Did you hurt your eye?" Sean's reply, "Daddy did it. He hit my eye with his ball." Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! That sounds way worse than it was! Besides it wasn't me, it was his shield! It was an accident!
Captain Sean-merica, battered but victorious, strolls into the sunset. Daddy and Ball are left stammering an explanation that tries desperately to not leave Daddy sounding like a Southern stereotype. The day is saved. Onward, friends! There are race cars and toy trains to be played with! Today, we dine on Cheez-Its and juice boxes!
 |
| Brought to you by plastic shields that shoot foam disks at your face! |
Our tale opens in the wake of The Avengers, the 4th highest grossing film of all time. (writer's note: If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and go now. Easily the best superhero movie of all time. For those screaming "The Dark Knight" at me, I think those films are a genre unto their own. A discussion for another time.) My son had received a Captain America mask and shield from some very dear friends for Christmas. He played with them on and off, but after seeing The Avengers with me, he could be seen wearing it and fighting invisible Hydra soldiers throughout our living room. Often Captain Sean-merica would also don a cape to enhance his super powers. Recently, our hero's arch-nemesis was a rubber yoga ball that my wife used during that week she did yoga. The ball is pure evil, as evidenced by its blue surface and empty, air-filled interior.
 |
| In his down time, Ball enjoys bouncing, rolling, and tying women to train tracks while twirling his mustache. |
The Early Battles
Captain Sean-merica braces his shield, shifting his stance for balance and stability. A grimace and growl lets his enemy know he means business. The wretched ball, held by it's evil henchmen Daddy, pauses to pick its opportunity. With acceleration far beyond mortal spheroids, the ball launches directly at the Captain's face, but is no match for the enhanced Super Soldier speed of a pure vibranium shield. Bouncing harmlessly back to Daddy, the ball immediately launches again! It's a vicious cycle: launch, block, launch, block. The patriotic resolve of Captain Sean-merica is every bit the match for Ball's wicked ricochets. For every ten blocked attacks, ball is only able to penetrate his defenses once for a clean shot to a helmeted face. For now the standoff is only at a distance, but surely that will soon change.
Escalating Combat
This has gone on long enough. Captain Sean-merica has had his fill of simply blocking these non-stop attacks. It's time to press the advantage by taking it to Daddy! The ball comes flying and is deftly deflected by the stars and stripes! CHARGE! Pressing his body to his shield, shoulder planted firmly for maximum force, Captain Sean-merica rushes Daddy. Unable to retrieve Ball in time for the next volley, he has to throw up his hands to avoid being flattened! Again and again the shield is shoved into him, and all Daddy can do is keep our hero at arm's length. Occasionally sneaking in the dreaded Tickle Finger into the vulnerable belly of Captain Sean-merica, the battle has taken on new intensity. Captain Sean-merica pauses and informs Daddy that he may retrieve ball for one final thrust. But first...juice and a snack.
The Revenge of Ball
The final stage of this epic confrontation was set. While Daddy held Ball still, Captain Sean-merica would charge from the living room. Building momentum, the two would collide with wall-shattering force! Ball resisted the impact, and our brave hero was bounced back. A second charge led to the same results. The third and final charge was imminent. So serious was this final strike, that Captain Sean-merica removed his mask to better focus on his enemy. The charge. The impact. The shield bounced back and struck Captain Sean-merica in his unprotected face...
Game Over, Man
Nothing ends a game faster than a crying kid. Aw man, here comes Katie. What am I gonna do? It's not really my fault. I just held the ball while he bounced into it. We've done this a hundred times! Aw geez, he will not let me check on him. Ok, he's going to his mom. She's got him. He's still crying, but not as hard. What's that? What? Well now I feel like a complete piece of dirt.
Every battle has scars. Good doesn't always win. It's like the Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter trailer says: "History remembers the battles, but forgets the blood." Those are not the lessons for right now. The important lesson today is "Safety is always important." I want Sean to make his own mistakes. I don't want him to get hurt, but every failure is a lesson. Every bruise is new realization. I don't think enough parents do that these days. I've seen kids that were just a few weeks away from actual adulthood, maybe even college, do incredibly stupid things. The parents are right there when the authorities that be try to punish the kids. "They didn't hurt anybody!" "They're just kids" "This is ridiculous!"
That's not teaching a child. That's bailing them out. That's showing them that even when they mess up they shouldn't really get in trouble. That is not showing them how the real world is going to react when Mommy and Daddy aren't there to take up for them. That lack of taking responsibility for oneself is one of the biggest afflictions plaguing our country today. Everybody wants a bailout. There's always someone else to blame.
Great lesson, huh? But today, for a four-year old boy betrayed by his toy shield and play-partner daddy, there is only sadness. And for one daddy, there is immense guilt. Sean will get his revenge though. The next day at school, a teacher asked him (in front of his daddy) "Did you hurt your eye?" Sean's reply, "Daddy did it. He hit my eye with his ball." Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! That sounds way worse than it was! Besides it wasn't me, it was his shield! It was an accident!
Captain Sean-merica, battered but victorious, strolls into the sunset. Daddy and Ball are left stammering an explanation that tries desperately to not leave Daddy sounding like a Southern stereotype. The day is saved. Onward, friends! There are race cars and toy trains to be played with! Today, we dine on Cheez-Its and juice boxes!
June 6, 2012
Wasting Time on Wednesday
There's nothing like online reading material to waste a little time during the week. Since I'm sure you've read all my stuff, I'll give you a little more!
Autism license plates need 1,000 statewide commitments to be produced- al.com
That Xbox your wife complains about may be the future in interactive entertainment- from Forbes.com
Birth Control Brand or Star Wars Character? A quiz from Mental Floss
Shameless plug for my awesome wife and her fashion blog!
June 3, 2012
Step One: Fire Good (or Fire Baaad)
Summer is finally upon us! This is the time of the year where we remember the sacrifices Prometheus made to bring us the gift of flame by cooking various flora and fauna upon the metal grated alter of Webber...or Charbroil if you're Protestant.
There is nothing as delicious as a properly cooked steak over a fire. I firmly believe that a vegetarian is only a vegetarian because they've never had a good steak. I've had veggie burgers and what-not, and I'm here to tell you there is a clear taste difference. I'm not picky on the Charcoal vs Propane debate. That's as personal as your choice in marinade ingredients, and not to be openly debated amongst friends. I prefer gas. It's faster, and leaves a cleaner taste to the meat. Plus Hank Hill always taught me to "Taste the Meat, Not the Heat." Meat-tasting can be a dangerous subject with the wrong company, so I'll just leave that to those that wish to discuss it in the comments section. I thought I would honor the Grill by sharing a couple grilling stories with you.
In college at THE University of Alabama (Home to THREE National Championships as of the writing of this blog...possible one more by the end of the day and another within a week or so- update: last night, the UA Women's Softball Team won the National Championship. That's four titles in 6 months. Your move, everybody else. Roll Tide!), we used to grill out often. Any excuse to "fire one up" was a good one. The basketball team is playing Arkansas tonight? Fire it up! Everybody has the night off? Fire it up! The new Gran Turismo is out? Fire it up!
One night, our friend Travis decided to grill out some burgers. Odds are "Eso" had soaked up some highly-flammable liquids, but out he went with his bologna sandwich and a box of matches. We sat in the living room of my friend's trailer. All was quiet until an enormous explosion of fire erupted outside the window. It was night, but for just a moment the noonday sun had returned to T-Town with a vengeance.
We were too stunned to check on Travis, but he stumbled in a moment later. He was missing an eyebrow, a crop of arm hair, and his shaved head was less stubbly than it was when he went out. His only comment to us was "My sandwich fell off my head." Apparently he turned the propane tank on all the way and set his sandwich on his head while he lit the match.
My other story happened on Memorial Day Weekend this year. We expected a house full of adults and kids, so I bought enough meat to reconstruct Babe The Blue Ox and Ferdinand The Bull in a diorama depicting the Saved By The Bell episode where Screech tried to fight Zack. As it so happened, there ended up being a change of plans so the dinner party was reduced to four. The burgers I made were fantastic, with a secret blend of spices fresh from the pack. They were so good that I decided to do it again the next night.
Everything was going good. I had flipped the burgers and turned the dogs. After a few minutes I went to go check on everything to be confronted by a Towering Inferno! The grease in the grease trap had caught fire and everything was close to being done...well done. Nobody with an ounce of taste wants their meat "well done", so I went to work trying to move the food to a safer part of the grill and water down the fire. When it was all over, only about half the food was edible. The burgers were like hockey pucks and the hot dogs resembled very tiny versions of those ash snakes kids play with on the Fourth of July.
It was a rare grilling miss for me. I've grilled everything from corn, squash, tomatoes, shrimp, onions, fish, deer, etc and never had to chunk most of it. Depressing, but a lesson learned. Clean the grease trap more often. Grease and char are part of the great flavor from grilling, but too much of a good thing leads to very bad things, after all Fire Baaaaddd!
Let me close with a few grilling tips for those looking for a new option:
1) Don't put butter on grilled corn on the cob. Try sour cream and chives instead. Or if you like spicy food, rub the corn down with chili powder before grilling it and eat with salsa.
2) Make a thick burger patty and a thin one. Use your thumbs to press in the middle of the thick patty and fill with blue cheese crumbles, horseradish, bacon bits, whatever. Cover that with the thin patty and fire it up!
3) Don't cut into your steak to see how done it is. Touch the tip of your forefinger to the tip of your thumb. Feel your hand's muscle to see how tense it is. That's rare. Use your middle finger and thumb for medium-rare; your ring finger is medium; and your pinky is well done. Cutting the steak let's the juices out. Keep the juices in the meat!
4) Keep smaller food like diced veggies and shrimp from falling through the grates by buying those silver aluminum pans from the grocery store. You can set the pans on the grill and put your food in them. It keeps the veggies from falling through and helps keep your grilling surface clean at the same time! For shrimp, put about a quarter inch to half inch of melted butter in the pan and toss it from time to time.
 |
| Heathen! |
There is nothing as delicious as a properly cooked steak over a fire. I firmly believe that a vegetarian is only a vegetarian because they've never had a good steak. I've had veggie burgers and what-not, and I'm here to tell you there is a clear taste difference. I'm not picky on the Charcoal vs Propane debate. That's as personal as your choice in marinade ingredients, and not to be openly debated amongst friends. I prefer gas. It's faster, and leaves a cleaner taste to the meat. Plus Hank Hill always taught me to "Taste the Meat, Not the Heat." Meat-tasting can be a dangerous subject with the wrong company, so I'll just leave that to those that wish to discuss it in the comments section. I thought I would honor the Grill by sharing a couple grilling stories with you.
In college at THE University of Alabama (Home to THREE National Championships as of the writing of this blog...possible one more by the end of the day and another within a week or so- update: last night, the UA Women's Softball Team won the National Championship. That's four titles in 6 months. Your move, everybody else. Roll Tide!), we used to grill out often. Any excuse to "fire one up" was a good one. The basketball team is playing Arkansas tonight? Fire it up! Everybody has the night off? Fire it up! The new Gran Turismo is out? Fire it up!
One night, our friend Travis decided to grill out some burgers. Odds are "Eso" had soaked up some highly-flammable liquids, but out he went with his bologna sandwich and a box of matches. We sat in the living room of my friend's trailer. All was quiet until an enormous explosion of fire erupted outside the window. It was night, but for just a moment the noonday sun had returned to T-Town with a vengeance.
 |
| Burgers are ready |
We were too stunned to check on Travis, but he stumbled in a moment later. He was missing an eyebrow, a crop of arm hair, and his shaved head was less stubbly than it was when he went out. His only comment to us was "My sandwich fell off my head." Apparently he turned the propane tank on all the way and set his sandwich on his head while he lit the match.
My other story happened on Memorial Day Weekend this year. We expected a house full of adults and kids, so I bought enough meat to reconstruct Babe The Blue Ox and Ferdinand The Bull in a diorama depicting the Saved By The Bell episode where Screech tried to fight Zack. As it so happened, there ended up being a change of plans so the dinner party was reduced to four. The burgers I made were fantastic, with a secret blend of spices fresh from the pack. They were so good that I decided to do it again the next night.
Everything was going good. I had flipped the burgers and turned the dogs. After a few minutes I went to go check on everything to be confronted by a Towering Inferno! The grease in the grease trap had caught fire and everything was close to being done...well done. Nobody with an ounce of taste wants their meat "well done", so I went to work trying to move the food to a safer part of the grill and water down the fire. When it was all over, only about half the food was edible. The burgers were like hockey pucks and the hot dogs resembled very tiny versions of those ash snakes kids play with on the Fourth of July.
 | ||
| No amount of pickle relish and sauerkraut can fix this. |
It was a rare grilling miss for me. I've grilled everything from corn, squash, tomatoes, shrimp, onions, fish, deer, etc and never had to chunk most of it. Depressing, but a lesson learned. Clean the grease trap more often. Grease and char are part of the great flavor from grilling, but too much of a good thing leads to very bad things, after all Fire Baaaaddd!
 |
| Does anybody else remember these web cartoons about Napster? |
Let me close with a few grilling tips for those looking for a new option:
1) Don't put butter on grilled corn on the cob. Try sour cream and chives instead. Or if you like spicy food, rub the corn down with chili powder before grilling it and eat with salsa.
2) Make a thick burger patty and a thin one. Use your thumbs to press in the middle of the thick patty and fill with blue cheese crumbles, horseradish, bacon bits, whatever. Cover that with the thin patty and fire it up!
3) Don't cut into your steak to see how done it is. Touch the tip of your forefinger to the tip of your thumb. Feel your hand's muscle to see how tense it is. That's rare. Use your middle finger and thumb for medium-rare; your ring finger is medium; and your pinky is well done. Cutting the steak let's the juices out. Keep the juices in the meat!
4) Keep smaller food like diced veggies and shrimp from falling through the grates by buying those silver aluminum pans from the grocery store. You can set the pans on the grill and put your food in them. It keeps the veggies from falling through and helps keep your grilling surface clean at the same time! For shrimp, put about a quarter inch to half inch of melted butter in the pan and toss it from time to time.
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