I’m not a job-placement professional, but in today’s current job market, I’d probably advise people to look for work in the childcare industry.* They could certainly use good people. Then again, if that’s your only option you might choose to stay unemployed. I would.
That is in no way meant to disparage those that do work in the industry. Quite the opposite. That is meant to point out that I do not have the qualifications or the stomach for that kind of work. Much the same way that I don’t have the stomach to be an ER doctor, NFL lineman, or a member of the armed services.
Deciding to look after infants and toddlers all day long, multiple days a week, particularly ones that aren’t yours, is truly noble. Looking after ones that are yours is nothing to sneeze at either. I only do it because, monetarily speaking, I’m required to by law. Since this is the case, I plan to stick around and hold over their heads how much money they owe me as soon as they can grasp that concept. Also, my wife would have me hunted down and killed if I left.
Having the same number of kids as parents in a household, also known as “playing man-to-man,” is largely thought to be a manageable situation. This is a myth. How daycares get their employees to agree to individually take care of up to five kids, which is the case at my son’s daycare, is beyond me. Every day that I pick him up, I expect to see at least one teacher weeping in the corner. It hasn’t happened yet, despite seeing situations that would cause me to weep in the corner if I was in charge.
One aspect that probably makes it a little more tolerable is that the people who work at my son’s daycare receive free daycare for their own children. This certainly makes the job a little more inviting because daycare is expensive. Why is it expensive, you ask? For the same reason ice road truckers command such a high salary – the work is perilous and few people are willing to do it.
I looked it up, and somehow, “daycare employee” does not rank high on the list of professions that cause the most number of suicides.** It falls well below social worker, homicide detective and Tyra Banks’ publicist.
This doesn’t mean the industry couldn’t use more good people. So think about it if you’re looking for work or like to help your fellow man. Not that I’m recommending it. I’m just saying.
*Unless you’re the Octo-Mom, in which case you should have to experience the phenomenon of a real-life Lost scenario.
**I did not look it up. Hey, this isn’t The New York Times.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Go Go Gadget Whatchamacallit
The other day I read an article on cnn.com about a guy who was released from prison after 8-9 years for being wrongfully convicted of first degree murder. The interviewer followed up with him to see what the past year has been like as a free man. The article struck a cord with me, not because of how easily someone can be wrongfully imprisoned or because I was fascinated about what innocent people go through emotionally while in jail, but because of what he said about cell phones.
The guy told the interviewer, after a year as a normal citizen, that he couldn’t live without his cell phone.
Sounds like a joke, right? This guy just spent almost a decade in jail, where he not only didn’t have a cell phone, but had no need for one and probably never even saw one; where everyone around him was without a cell phone. Once he’s out, he doesn’t have a job, a wife, kids or presumably any friends. Even though he was eventually found not guilty, do you really think any of his old friends are offering him their extra concert tickets or inviting him to their Super Bowl parties? Who’s calling this guy?! And who does he have to call?
I, on the other hand, have a job, a wife, two kids and hopefully a couple more friends than a guy who just got out of prison for first degree murder, and I could go days without noticing my phone has fallen in the toilet.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my cell phone,” he said. “It has my calendar, my address book, everything on it.”
Well that confirms it. I am now officially less technologically savvy than ex-cons. It’s one thing when kids are more up on all the latest electronic devices than you are (that’s to be expected), but when a convict can integrate himself into our society of mass communications better than you can, that’s embarrassing.
I can use a cell phone, but only for its most primitive function. Games? I think I have some. A calendar? That’s probably on there too. I know I can program any number into it that I want, but I never have. If I want to call someone who’s number I don’t have memorized (which is most of them), I carry around my personal address book that has all my homeys’ numbers in it. Like I said, embarrassing.
I certainly haven’t mastered driving while talking on my phone. Not that I’d want to. I’ll spare you my soap-box rant about how dangerous it is, and just say that I don’t know how people do it physically. I drive a stick shift, so making a left or right turn from a full stop while talking on my phone is virtually impossible. I might as well try to put a sweater on a cat while I’m driving.
And if you want to get a text message from me, you’ll have to send me one first. Even then I’ll curse your name under my breath and probably not respond. I used to think that people who text either have severe stuttering problems or have spent their whole lives smoking and have to attach a voice machine to their throat that makes them sound like a garbage disposal when they talk. Otherwise, to me, texting is like someone with perfect vision learning brail. What’s the point?
Plus, if you’ve ever taken a typing class and have spent years typing on a computer keyboard, texting has to drive you crazy. Even if you have a phone that has each letter on a separate keypad, as opposed to mine that has three letters on the same keypad, you have to work your thumbs like it’s 1988 and you’re playing Super Mario Brothers. And if asked to compare people who talk on their phones while driving to people who text on their phones while driving, I would award Rhodes Scholarships to those who merely talk.
I actually appreciate that texting lets you talk to someone without having to actually talk to them – like e-mail on the go. But most people text back and forth at the same time, making it more like instant messaging. Therefore, any awkward conversation you had hoped to avoid by not actually talking to the person is still potentially a factor when you text. For instance, let’s say Jim and Ted have the following conversation via text messaging:
Jim: “Hey Ted, what’s up?”
Ted: “Hey buddy. How about that game last night? OMG, LOL, BFF, KGB, TNT!"
Jim: “I know. It was TMI, AOL, FYI!”
Ted: “By the way, I didn’t appreciate you getting drunk and feeling up my wife at Craig’s party last weekend.”
At this point, Jim can’t exactly be silent for 10 minutes, then come back and type something like, “Sorry about the pause. My ceiling fan fell down and hit me on the head. I have to go to the emergency room. Later.”
At any rate, I’ve accepted the fact that I’m like the 80-year-old man sitting on his porch yelling at kids to get off his lawn. I’ll grant you that everyone else has figured out something and I’m merely standing on the sidelines. I can refer to the same article for further evidence.
To make ends meet over the past year, the man freed from prison told CNN that he sells stuff on eBay. I remember first hearing about eBay back in the late ‘90s (before it became mainstream) when a friend of mine started buying and selling all sorts of stuff on it. I remember thinking he was crazy. Consider the process: You're buying something you can’t feel or try on or even see without the help of a small, grainy Web picture. Not only that, you're buying it from some kook you’ve never met before, and you're trusting that kook to send you the item after charging your credit card. Let's not forget that none of this takes place until AFTER you wait a couple days to see if other people drive up the price on you. Despite all this, eBay is not only a widely-accepted medium for buying things, but it’s completely ingrained in our culture. I still think it’s crazy.
Yet here’s this guy who jumps right into making money on the Internet after being shut off from the world for nearly 10 years. Gone are the days when ex-cons take jobs mowing lawns, painting houses or teaching driver’s ed.
I guess I’m just slow to catch on to things. I saw an interview the other day with the founder and CEO of Amazon, who has developed Kindle 2 – a device that’s about as tall and thick as a clipboard, but that stores the text of up to 1500 books. You can bring up all kinds of literature on this electronic screen and read them wherever you please. The first thing that struck me was that this is the second version of the device, so it makes perfect sense that I’m just now hearing about either one of them.
My next thought was that Kindle 2 looks like a remarkable piece of electronic equipment that I will be ready to purchase exactly three years after they stop making it. Here is a rundown of other popular developments in technology and my relationship with them:
MySpace? Nope. Facebook? Uh-uh. Twitter? God bless you. HDTV? My TV is HD compatible, but that’s where it ends. Blue Ray? That is different from HD, but competes with it, right? I’m getting a headache. TiVo? This I would like to have, but it’s not old enough. As soon as TiVo celebrates its 20th anniversary, sign me up baby! The iPhone? This would be a huge waste on someone like me.
I do have an iPod, but that’s not cool anymore, is it? At this point isn’t the iPod what CDs were when the iPod first came out? I don’t know what has supplanted it as the latest, greatest thing in music, but I'm sure at least three things have by now.
I have this blog, but I resisted creating it for three years before finally giving in. More than a year later I’m having a great time, but I don’t feel any more computer savvy than I did when I started. I successfully posted a picture on this blog a year ago and haven’t been able to do so since. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten how, or if the process has changed, but a few months ago I spent hours trying to do it again before finally giving up.
So where does my sedentary nature for technology come from? Not sure. It’s not from my friends. If that were the case, they’d all have to be senior citizens.
It’s not my wife. As I type this, she is e-mailing a picture of our kids that she took with her cell phone. Mine can’t even take pictures, but if it could, I sure as hell wouldn’t know how to do it.
Is it my parents? Tough to say. They have at least three computers in their house, two of which are in the same room. On two different occasions, my dad has given me a computer that he felt was too slow or no longer had the capabilities that he was looking for. Plus, he operates his own Web site.
Then again, it was the mid '90s before my parents got a CD player to replace their record/8-track player. And my mom has a cell phone that she doesn’t turn on.
To be fair, they never looked at the record/8-track player as cutting edge. They didn’t have people over and say, “Hey, want to listen to some funky Carly Simon tunes on our new-age music box?” It really just took up space. I think the only reason it hung around so long was because without it, there would be an empty space in the living room.
As for my mom’s phone, there is no “to be fair” comment. She pays for cell phone service, but never turns it on. I can’t explain it. I can only assume it’s because she can’t recognize when it is losing power, and doesn’t know how to recharge it. Therefore, she’s afraid that if it ever loses power, she’ll never again be able to use it. I, on the other hand, know when my phone is dying AND how to recharge it.
Not sure how impressive that is. These days it doesn’t even qualify me to spend time behind bars.
The guy told the interviewer, after a year as a normal citizen, that he couldn’t live without his cell phone.
Sounds like a joke, right? This guy just spent almost a decade in jail, where he not only didn’t have a cell phone, but had no need for one and probably never even saw one; where everyone around him was without a cell phone. Once he’s out, he doesn’t have a job, a wife, kids or presumably any friends. Even though he was eventually found not guilty, do you really think any of his old friends are offering him their extra concert tickets or inviting him to their Super Bowl parties? Who’s calling this guy?! And who does he have to call?
I, on the other hand, have a job, a wife, two kids and hopefully a couple more friends than a guy who just got out of prison for first degree murder, and I could go days without noticing my phone has fallen in the toilet.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my cell phone,” he said. “It has my calendar, my address book, everything on it.”
Well that confirms it. I am now officially less technologically savvy than ex-cons. It’s one thing when kids are more up on all the latest electronic devices than you are (that’s to be expected), but when a convict can integrate himself into our society of mass communications better than you can, that’s embarrassing.
I can use a cell phone, but only for its most primitive function. Games? I think I have some. A calendar? That’s probably on there too. I know I can program any number into it that I want, but I never have. If I want to call someone who’s number I don’t have memorized (which is most of them), I carry around my personal address book that has all my homeys’ numbers in it. Like I said, embarrassing.
I certainly haven’t mastered driving while talking on my phone. Not that I’d want to. I’ll spare you my soap-box rant about how dangerous it is, and just say that I don’t know how people do it physically. I drive a stick shift, so making a left or right turn from a full stop while talking on my phone is virtually impossible. I might as well try to put a sweater on a cat while I’m driving.
And if you want to get a text message from me, you’ll have to send me one first. Even then I’ll curse your name under my breath and probably not respond. I used to think that people who text either have severe stuttering problems or have spent their whole lives smoking and have to attach a voice machine to their throat that makes them sound like a garbage disposal when they talk. Otherwise, to me, texting is like someone with perfect vision learning brail. What’s the point?
Plus, if you’ve ever taken a typing class and have spent years typing on a computer keyboard, texting has to drive you crazy. Even if you have a phone that has each letter on a separate keypad, as opposed to mine that has three letters on the same keypad, you have to work your thumbs like it’s 1988 and you’re playing Super Mario Brothers. And if asked to compare people who talk on their phones while driving to people who text on their phones while driving, I would award Rhodes Scholarships to those who merely talk.
I actually appreciate that texting lets you talk to someone without having to actually talk to them – like e-mail on the go. But most people text back and forth at the same time, making it more like instant messaging. Therefore, any awkward conversation you had hoped to avoid by not actually talking to the person is still potentially a factor when you text. For instance, let’s say Jim and Ted have the following conversation via text messaging:
Jim: “Hey Ted, what’s up?”
Ted: “Hey buddy. How about that game last night? OMG, LOL, BFF, KGB, TNT!"
Jim: “I know. It was TMI, AOL, FYI!”
Ted: “By the way, I didn’t appreciate you getting drunk and feeling up my wife at Craig’s party last weekend.”
At this point, Jim can’t exactly be silent for 10 minutes, then come back and type something like, “Sorry about the pause. My ceiling fan fell down and hit me on the head. I have to go to the emergency room. Later.”
At any rate, I’ve accepted the fact that I’m like the 80-year-old man sitting on his porch yelling at kids to get off his lawn. I’ll grant you that everyone else has figured out something and I’m merely standing on the sidelines. I can refer to the same article for further evidence.
To make ends meet over the past year, the man freed from prison told CNN that he sells stuff on eBay. I remember first hearing about eBay back in the late ‘90s (before it became mainstream) when a friend of mine started buying and selling all sorts of stuff on it. I remember thinking he was crazy. Consider the process: You're buying something you can’t feel or try on or even see without the help of a small, grainy Web picture. Not only that, you're buying it from some kook you’ve never met before, and you're trusting that kook to send you the item after charging your credit card. Let's not forget that none of this takes place until AFTER you wait a couple days to see if other people drive up the price on you. Despite all this, eBay is not only a widely-accepted medium for buying things, but it’s completely ingrained in our culture. I still think it’s crazy.
Yet here’s this guy who jumps right into making money on the Internet after being shut off from the world for nearly 10 years. Gone are the days when ex-cons take jobs mowing lawns, painting houses or teaching driver’s ed.
I guess I’m just slow to catch on to things. I saw an interview the other day with the founder and CEO of Amazon, who has developed Kindle 2 – a device that’s about as tall and thick as a clipboard, but that stores the text of up to 1500 books. You can bring up all kinds of literature on this electronic screen and read them wherever you please. The first thing that struck me was that this is the second version of the device, so it makes perfect sense that I’m just now hearing about either one of them.
My next thought was that Kindle 2 looks like a remarkable piece of electronic equipment that I will be ready to purchase exactly three years after they stop making it. Here is a rundown of other popular developments in technology and my relationship with them:
MySpace? Nope. Facebook? Uh-uh. Twitter? God bless you. HDTV? My TV is HD compatible, but that’s where it ends. Blue Ray? That is different from HD, but competes with it, right? I’m getting a headache. TiVo? This I would like to have, but it’s not old enough. As soon as TiVo celebrates its 20th anniversary, sign me up baby! The iPhone? This would be a huge waste on someone like me.
I do have an iPod, but that’s not cool anymore, is it? At this point isn’t the iPod what CDs were when the iPod first came out? I don’t know what has supplanted it as the latest, greatest thing in music, but I'm sure at least three things have by now.
I have this blog, but I resisted creating it for three years before finally giving in. More than a year later I’m having a great time, but I don’t feel any more computer savvy than I did when I started. I successfully posted a picture on this blog a year ago and haven’t been able to do so since. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten how, or if the process has changed, but a few months ago I spent hours trying to do it again before finally giving up.
So where does my sedentary nature for technology come from? Not sure. It’s not from my friends. If that were the case, they’d all have to be senior citizens.
It’s not my wife. As I type this, she is e-mailing a picture of our kids that she took with her cell phone. Mine can’t even take pictures, but if it could, I sure as hell wouldn’t know how to do it.
Is it my parents? Tough to say. They have at least three computers in their house, two of which are in the same room. On two different occasions, my dad has given me a computer that he felt was too slow or no longer had the capabilities that he was looking for. Plus, he operates his own Web site.
Then again, it was the mid '90s before my parents got a CD player to replace their record/8-track player. And my mom has a cell phone that she doesn’t turn on.
To be fair, they never looked at the record/8-track player as cutting edge. They didn’t have people over and say, “Hey, want to listen to some funky Carly Simon tunes on our new-age music box?” It really just took up space. I think the only reason it hung around so long was because without it, there would be an empty space in the living room.
As for my mom’s phone, there is no “to be fair” comment. She pays for cell phone service, but never turns it on. I can’t explain it. I can only assume it’s because she can’t recognize when it is losing power, and doesn’t know how to recharge it. Therefore, she’s afraid that if it ever loses power, she’ll never again be able to use it. I, on the other hand, know when my phone is dying AND how to recharge it.
Not sure how impressive that is. These days it doesn’t even qualify me to spend time behind bars.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Power of Our Peers
We, as a society, do a lot of dumb things. Some times we do dumb things to impress people (buy Hummers), other times out of tradition (spend Christmas with our families) and some times just because they’re fun (get drunk and bet it all on black 7).
But nothing is dumber than doing something for no reason other than because someone else has done it. And we, as a society, do that a lot. Not necessarily in the sense of “keeping up with the Joneses” because a lot of times in those instances, there is at least one other reason to justify the dumb things we do or buy. Even though someone might buy a BMW because his neighbor has one, it can be argued that a BMW is a quality, high-performing automobile that is a good purchase whether your neighbor has one or not.
I’m talking about things that cannot be explained in any other context, and why anyone ever did them in the first place is incomprehensible. For instance, using chop sticks. Or voting Republican (sorry, couldn’t help myself).
Below are just some of the things I’ve noticed that people do only because someone else has already done them or is currently doing them:
Run with the bulls – I understand the desire to do something dangerous for an adrenaline rush, like skydiving or rock climbing, but running with the bulls is in a category of its own. If you were planning to do this and showed up on the big day to find you were the only person who would be running from 12 angry bulls, would you still do it?
Camp out for movie tickets – I also understand camping out overnight for seats to a concert or a sporting event that will be the hot ticket. These are one-time events with limited seating. But a movie will play 10 times a day, every day for three to four months at multiple theaters near you. There is no reason to camp out for movie tickets. None. If you have ever done so, please stop reading this and refrain from telling people you know me.
Put Christmas lights on the outside of our homes – It’s cold, a pain in the ass to do, and we spend most of the season looking at the inside of our homes because, as I mentioned, it’s cold.
Send fruitcake as a gift – It’s the most re-gifted present in history, which means you wouldn’t give it to anyone unless someone else gave it to you first.
Participate in eating contests – Not much of a contest if someone else isn’t involved.
Drive El Caminos – You know there is something called the ‘pick-up,’ right?
If this were the ‘70’s I’d say, “Wear plaid bellbottoms.”
If this were any decade I’d say, “Wear fanny packs.”
If this were your parents I’d say, “Jump off a bridge” – Growing up, you no doubt learned that jumping off a bridge wasn’t a good idea even if the whole neighborhood was doing so. Despite the desire of some people to bungee jump, take a dip or end it all, parents didn’t believe any value could be derived from this activity.
Chant “De-fense” at sporting events – If you do this, you’re not only assuming that the team you cheer for is so dumb that they are unable to tell when to play offense and when to play defense, but that the team’s coaching staff is also unable to recognize when to play one or the other. This team, in all likelihood, is not worth rooting for. And let’s face it, if the guy next to you didn’t do it first, would you be the one to lead the chant? Didn’t think so.
Root for the Chicago Cubs – I mean, seriously. A hundred years without a championship? Misery loves company indeed.
Marry Larry King
Marry Liza Minnelli
Put Flavor Flav on TV
Cast Keanu Reeves in movies – The Matrix was 10 years ago. He hasn’t made a good one since.
And I'm sure there are thousands more. Feel free to add to the list below.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Nobody Knows the Trouble I Can't Watch
Editor's note: Below is what I wrote earlier this week, before the ice storm that has hit a large portion of the country forced hundreds of thousands of people in Louisville (and certainly many other cities) to lose power. Our local news is reporting that the electric company won't have power fully restored to the area for at least a week. I know the inconveniences of losing power for that long, but only in early September. Not late January.
I hesitated with this week's posting because given these latest developments, writing about my "problem" seemed a little out of touch, slightly self-centered and a tad insensitive. But I had written it before storm conditions made a huge impact on people, and the message is very tounge-in-cheek, so I thought maybe it could provide some levity. With that said, I do hope conditions improve quickly for those without power and life can return to normal for everyone.
Usually I reserve this space for light-hearted topics, but I’m going through something that I feel I should share in hopes that it will bring me understanding and offer you, the reader, some perspective. My TV is busted.
I’ve asked myself over and over, “How is this fair?” and “What have I done to deserve this?” especially considering the thing is only three years old, but I’m slowly coming to grips with the reality. I lost her on Monday and it’s time to move on.
Fortunately my daughter was born last Friday, so that joyful news has served as a nice distraction. But it’s hard to truly grasp my feelings when an event so wonderful is followed by one so tragic. To make matters worse, a snow storm came through on the day it went out, making it too dangerous to venture out to buy a new one. The city is asking everyone to stay off the roads unless you have an emergency. But come to think of it, if a broken television doesn’t constitute an emergency, I don’t know what does.
Let’s face it, watching your TV completely give out is like holding a friend in your arms while he dies. Only in this instance, it’s also like having to share your living room with your dead friend’s body for two days afterwards.
I’m not the only one who’s been hurt by this; the whole family is suffering. During those times when my two-year-old son’s “playful energy” and “good-natured restlessness” are a little too much to take, my wife and I like to pop in a Baby Einstein DVD. And he likes them even more than we do. But living with a two year old and not being able to watch television is like spending the night in the woods without food and water – there are ways to survive, but you’re really going to wish you had brought along food and water.
The poor kid is still struggling to accept the loss. He’s spent the better part of two days exhibiting OCD behavior by fruitlessly pushing the power button on and off and muttering, “TV broken.”
Sadly, when I think about it, there is so little on TV that I like to watch anymore. I never would have guessed that losing her would be this hard. With all the reality shows and spinoffs of original shows that we never watched in the first place (I’m looking at you, CSI and Law & Order), most of what we tune in for are the few sitcoms left and reruns of extinct sitcoms. And yet, the silence is deafening.
I guess what I miss is the satisfaction of holding the remote in my hand and zipping through the channels as my fine motor skills morph into gelatinous goo. I miss turning it on and seeing promos for future shows that block out half the action of the show I'm trying to watch. I miss cable news and sports channels taking the phrase "sensory overload" to a new plateau by running scrolling tickers, side-panel previews and roundtable discussions, and I miss hearing Jon Stewart make fun of them. And even though I don't watch them, I miss knowing that if I wanted to, I could tune into a number of talk shows in which people excel far more at yelling than they do at composing a rational thought (now I'm looking at you, Bill O'Reilly). It’s true what they say – you never really appreciate something until it’s gone.
Ah well, she had a good run. I think I hear a plow truck outside my window now. If I can survive the night, the roads should be passable by sun up. Then we’ll welcome an even newer member to our family.
I hesitated with this week's posting because given these latest developments, writing about my "problem" seemed a little out of touch, slightly self-centered and a tad insensitive. But I had written it before storm conditions made a huge impact on people, and the message is very tounge-in-cheek, so I thought maybe it could provide some levity. With that said, I do hope conditions improve quickly for those without power and life can return to normal for everyone.
Usually I reserve this space for light-hearted topics, but I’m going through something that I feel I should share in hopes that it will bring me understanding and offer you, the reader, some perspective. My TV is busted.
I’ve asked myself over and over, “How is this fair?” and “What have I done to deserve this?” especially considering the thing is only three years old, but I’m slowly coming to grips with the reality. I lost her on Monday and it’s time to move on.
Fortunately my daughter was born last Friday, so that joyful news has served as a nice distraction. But it’s hard to truly grasp my feelings when an event so wonderful is followed by one so tragic. To make matters worse, a snow storm came through on the day it went out, making it too dangerous to venture out to buy a new one. The city is asking everyone to stay off the roads unless you have an emergency. But come to think of it, if a broken television doesn’t constitute an emergency, I don’t know what does.
Let’s face it, watching your TV completely give out is like holding a friend in your arms while he dies. Only in this instance, it’s also like having to share your living room with your dead friend’s body for two days afterwards.
I’m not the only one who’s been hurt by this; the whole family is suffering. During those times when my two-year-old son’s “playful energy” and “good-natured restlessness” are a little too much to take, my wife and I like to pop in a Baby Einstein DVD. And he likes them even more than we do. But living with a two year old and not being able to watch television is like spending the night in the woods without food and water – there are ways to survive, but you’re really going to wish you had brought along food and water.
The poor kid is still struggling to accept the loss. He’s spent the better part of two days exhibiting OCD behavior by fruitlessly pushing the power button on and off and muttering, “TV broken.”
Sadly, when I think about it, there is so little on TV that I like to watch anymore. I never would have guessed that losing her would be this hard. With all the reality shows and spinoffs of original shows that we never watched in the first place (I’m looking at you, CSI and Law & Order), most of what we tune in for are the few sitcoms left and reruns of extinct sitcoms. And yet, the silence is deafening.
I guess what I miss is the satisfaction of holding the remote in my hand and zipping through the channels as my fine motor skills morph into gelatinous goo. I miss turning it on and seeing promos for future shows that block out half the action of the show I'm trying to watch. I miss cable news and sports channels taking the phrase "sensory overload" to a new plateau by running scrolling tickers, side-panel previews and roundtable discussions, and I miss hearing Jon Stewart make fun of them. And even though I don't watch them, I miss knowing that if I wanted to, I could tune into a number of talk shows in which people excel far more at yelling than they do at composing a rational thought (now I'm looking at you, Bill O'Reilly). It’s true what they say – you never really appreciate something until it’s gone.
Ah well, she had a good run. I think I hear a plow truck outside my window now. If I can survive the night, the roads should be passable by sun up. Then we’ll welcome an even newer member to our family.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Party On Wayne, Party On Prez
Last week when I mentioned that this year's Presidential Inauguration was something so weighty and momentous that it was hard to find humor in it, that was because I hadn't yet seen any of the proceedings. Then later during the weekend, I watched about 30 minutes of the pre-Tuesday celebration before I realized it wasn't MTV's coverage of Spring Break. Other than all the winter coats, everything else was virtually identical, right down to the Madeline Albright keg stands.
People partied in Washington for days leading up to the Inauguration. And not just your average Joes and political big wigs. So many musicians and Hollywood celebrities were on hand I thought an intervention for Robert Downey Jr. had broken out. From the first speech given sometime Saturday or Sunday to the last Inaugural Ball Tuesday night, the length of the entire event just missed beating out the Oscars in terms of TV coverage.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, we all saw the images of the massive number of people gathered on the Mall in front of the Capitol. The crowd was so large it nearly rivaled what is usually found at the DMV. For some, the experience had to be a little like going to the DMV - like the inability to see the front of the crowd or to clearly hear what was being said. Of course despite those pratfalls, most people were filled with incredible hope and optimism, whereas the DMV leaves most people feeling like souless, vindictive, spine-crushing creatures. Kind of like a less powerful Vladimir Putin - "If all you people don't get out of my way, I will poison you."
I say "less powerful" because Putin actually has his goons poison people, while I'm not able to rely on goons. Not yet, anyway. (I hope he's not a regular reader of this blog.)
Anyway, I forget my point. But I bet Madeline Albright could drink Putin under the table. And he's Russian, so that's saying something.
People partied in Washington for days leading up to the Inauguration. And not just your average Joes and political big wigs. So many musicians and Hollywood celebrities were on hand I thought an intervention for Robert Downey Jr. had broken out. From the first speech given sometime Saturday or Sunday to the last Inaugural Ball Tuesday night, the length of the entire event just missed beating out the Oscars in terms of TV coverage.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, we all saw the images of the massive number of people gathered on the Mall in front of the Capitol. The crowd was so large it nearly rivaled what is usually found at the DMV. For some, the experience had to be a little like going to the DMV - like the inability to see the front of the crowd or to clearly hear what was being said. Of course despite those pratfalls, most people were filled with incredible hope and optimism, whereas the DMV leaves most people feeling like souless, vindictive, spine-crushing creatures. Kind of like a less powerful Vladimir Putin - "If all you people don't get out of my way, I will poison you."
I say "less powerful" because Putin actually has his goons poison people, while I'm not able to rely on goons. Not yet, anyway. (I hope he's not a regular reader of this blog.)
Anyway, I forget my point. But I bet Madeline Albright could drink Putin under the table. And he's Russian, so that's saying something.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Nothing's Getting Through
I have writer’s block. Well, I guess I can’t really call it “writer’s block.” It’s actually more like “guy who occasionally posts nonsensical ramblings to a web page” block. Or “blogger's block,” if you insist. Whatever you call it, I’m out of ideas.
I contemplated writing about the freezing temperatures and how it’s so nipple-twisting cold outside that the government should make it legal to insulate our homes with whale blubber, grizzly bear fur and spotted owl brains. But that’s the only thing I could think to say. Probably because it’s too damn cold to think.
Then there’s the big story this week about the US Airways flight that was brought down by some birds. But aside from the remarkable job done by the pilots and crew to keep anyone from getting hurt, the one thing I kept coming back to with that story was how much I would hate birds if I was on the flight. I mean, it’s one thing when they poop on your car, but when they force your plane to crash into the Hudson River in the middle of January… that’s out of line. I think after that I’d buy a monkey and train it to throw its feces at every bird it sees, whether the bird pooped on my car or not.
Yesterday I thought about how 30 Rock is quickly becoming my favorite show, thanks in part to the character Dr. Leo Spaceman who, on Thursday’s episode, asked “When will modern science find a cure for a woman’s mouth?”
Another one of his finer moments came last season when he was called upon to help a man who slipped into a diabetic comma. The less-than-reputable doctor picked up the phone and dialed 411 instead of 911, and when the operator asked him, “What listing?” he furrowed his brow in a confused manner and replied, “Uh… diabetes repair?”
But those are just rehashes of some funny moments from a sitcom, not the source of a blog posting. So then I thought how poignant and fitting it is that this year our first African-American president will be sworn in just one day after we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. day. But I couldn’t find a lot of comedy in that, and offering serious insight on weighty, historic political moments isn’t really my forte (buuuuurrrrrrrrp).
I could always follow up on my plan to list my New Year’s resolutions, but two weeks into the new year is usually when people start breaking their resolutions, not making them. So I missed the boat on that. Maybe next year.
There was an embarrassing moment earlier this week when I went out for lunch and tried multiple times to secure a cup lid to the top of my fountain drink. I finally decided that none of the lids were the right size, so I asked the woman behind the counter to set out some more of the appropriate-sized lids. She immediately popped the same lid on the cup that I had struggled with for 20 minutes. Her advice of, “Don’t be afraid to break a nail,” seemed unnecessary.
I could have made that incident the subject of this posting, but it was really more pathetic than funny. However, I realized that my inability to attach the cup lid to the accompanying cup is sort of a metaphor for my inability to come up with something to write about after two weeks. Now is not the time to come up short on ideas because it’s only going to get worse. After my daughter is born in a little over a week, I’ll barely have the brain capacity to tie my shoes or remember how to get to work every day, let alone pop on cup lids (write new blog posts).
Maybe I should stick to bottles and cans. Not metaphorically speaking, just when I’m thirsty. If my creative problem persists, I’ll just start posting links to porn.
I contemplated writing about the freezing temperatures and how it’s so nipple-twisting cold outside that the government should make it legal to insulate our homes with whale blubber, grizzly bear fur and spotted owl brains. But that’s the only thing I could think to say. Probably because it’s too damn cold to think.
Then there’s the big story this week about the US Airways flight that was brought down by some birds. But aside from the remarkable job done by the pilots and crew to keep anyone from getting hurt, the one thing I kept coming back to with that story was how much I would hate birds if I was on the flight. I mean, it’s one thing when they poop on your car, but when they force your plane to crash into the Hudson River in the middle of January… that’s out of line. I think after that I’d buy a monkey and train it to throw its feces at every bird it sees, whether the bird pooped on my car or not.
Yesterday I thought about how 30 Rock is quickly becoming my favorite show, thanks in part to the character Dr. Leo Spaceman who, on Thursday’s episode, asked “When will modern science find a cure for a woman’s mouth?”
Another one of his finer moments came last season when he was called upon to help a man who slipped into a diabetic comma. The less-than-reputable doctor picked up the phone and dialed 411 instead of 911, and when the operator asked him, “What listing?” he furrowed his brow in a confused manner and replied, “Uh… diabetes repair?”
But those are just rehashes of some funny moments from a sitcom, not the source of a blog posting. So then I thought how poignant and fitting it is that this year our first African-American president will be sworn in just one day after we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. day. But I couldn’t find a lot of comedy in that, and offering serious insight on weighty, historic political moments isn’t really my forte (buuuuurrrrrrrrp).
I could always follow up on my plan to list my New Year’s resolutions, but two weeks into the new year is usually when people start breaking their resolutions, not making them. So I missed the boat on that. Maybe next year.
There was an embarrassing moment earlier this week when I went out for lunch and tried multiple times to secure a cup lid to the top of my fountain drink. I finally decided that none of the lids were the right size, so I asked the woman behind the counter to set out some more of the appropriate-sized lids. She immediately popped the same lid on the cup that I had struggled with for 20 minutes. Her advice of, “Don’t be afraid to break a nail,” seemed unnecessary.
I could have made that incident the subject of this posting, but it was really more pathetic than funny. However, I realized that my inability to attach the cup lid to the accompanying cup is sort of a metaphor for my inability to come up with something to write about after two weeks. Now is not the time to come up short on ideas because it’s only going to get worse. After my daughter is born in a little over a week, I’ll barely have the brain capacity to tie my shoes or remember how to get to work every day, let alone pop on cup lids (write new blog posts).
Maybe I should stick to bottles and cans. Not metaphorically speaking, just when I’m thirsty. If my creative problem persists, I’ll just start posting links to porn.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Ringing In Some Self Improvement
Hope everyone had a safe and happy New Year’s celebration.
New Year’s Eve is one of those few occasions when nearly every sector of the worldwide population has a reason to party. Saying goodbye to the current year and gleefully sharing in the optimism that is a “fresh start,” even though the next year will likely bring more of the same crap, gives everyone an excuse to go nuts until the wee hours of the morning.
However, if you live with a two year old, and you and your wife – who is eight months pregnant – are still awake at 11 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Man it’s getting late.”
And if you are like me, the only reason you’re still up at 11 p.m. is because you’re trying to get the two year old back to sleep. Otherwise you would have been resting comfortably in your bed at 7:30 p.m.
It was during this time that my mind drifted away from vengeful thoughts toward my crying child and instead began to think about New Year’s resolutions. I thought that for 2009 maybe I should resolve to be a better husband or be a better father or to work harder at my job or to help my fellow man in need whenever possible. But for me, those are highly unrealistic goals and the New Year’s experts (who disseminate their vast knowledge in checkout counter magazines nationwide) always say not to make resolutions that are too lofty or unattainable. So then I thought I’ll stick with my original plan to wear socks with fewer holes in them.
I was content to go with this until I caught a few minutes of Deal or No Deal yesterday that made me feel like my resolution is a little lame and self serving. During a break from the regular brain-teasing action, the women who open the suitcases were talking about their resolutions and one of them – Cinnamon or Jasmine or Fibula; can’t remember – said she hopes to be able to surf more. At that moment I’m sure everyone who was watching thought the exact same thing, “The world is lucky to have you, Fibula.”
So now I feel obligated to try something more challenging and meaningful. Leave it to a show hosted by Howie Mandel to cause me to reflect on my life and push me to better myself. My hat’s off to you, Howie. So stay tuned for my revised resolutions. Right now I’m thinking of something along the lines of relieving my butler from polishing my car so that he can have some time off. Besides, the nanny can do it.
New Year’s Eve is one of those few occasions when nearly every sector of the worldwide population has a reason to party. Saying goodbye to the current year and gleefully sharing in the optimism that is a “fresh start,” even though the next year will likely bring more of the same crap, gives everyone an excuse to go nuts until the wee hours of the morning.
However, if you live with a two year old, and you and your wife – who is eight months pregnant – are still awake at 11 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Man it’s getting late.”
And if you are like me, the only reason you’re still up at 11 p.m. is because you’re trying to get the two year old back to sleep. Otherwise you would have been resting comfortably in your bed at 7:30 p.m.
It was during this time that my mind drifted away from vengeful thoughts toward my crying child and instead began to think about New Year’s resolutions. I thought that for 2009 maybe I should resolve to be a better husband or be a better father or to work harder at my job or to help my fellow man in need whenever possible. But for me, those are highly unrealistic goals and the New Year’s experts (who disseminate their vast knowledge in checkout counter magazines nationwide) always say not to make resolutions that are too lofty or unattainable. So then I thought I’ll stick with my original plan to wear socks with fewer holes in them.
I was content to go with this until I caught a few minutes of Deal or No Deal yesterday that made me feel like my resolution is a little lame and self serving. During a break from the regular brain-teasing action, the women who open the suitcases were talking about their resolutions and one of them – Cinnamon or Jasmine or Fibula; can’t remember – said she hopes to be able to surf more. At that moment I’m sure everyone who was watching thought the exact same thing, “The world is lucky to have you, Fibula.”
So now I feel obligated to try something more challenging and meaningful. Leave it to a show hosted by Howie Mandel to cause me to reflect on my life and push me to better myself. My hat’s off to you, Howie. So stay tuned for my revised resolutions. Right now I’m thinking of something along the lines of relieving my butler from polishing my car so that he can have some time off. Besides, the nanny can do it.
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