Golden Slumbers

Maddy attended her first slumber party Saturday night, which of course filled TBH and myself with all kinds of anxiety.  She has spent the night at a friends houses before, but for some reason the slumber party was a bigger deal.  Perhaps it's because her attendance was in question up until the day of the party itself as 9 year old kids are really crappy social planners.  See, there were at least 3 different Maddy's that were invited to the party...a couple of Madelyns and a Madison.  My Maddy never received a proper invite because the b-day girl throwing the party was told by Maddy that I knew her dad and we would work it out.  Well, I do know her dad, I met him during 3rd grade field day last spring.  That's it.  We aren't besties, exchanging recipes for apple brown betty or anything like that.  I don't even remember his name, but Maddy recalled me meeting him and that was that...which means we never received a proper invite.

TBH and I found out Maddy was invited to the slumber party the night before when Maddy dropped it during casual conversation, but we had no phone numbers to call and no address.  Maddy assumed I had worked everything out with the birthday girl's dad and vice versa.  Luckily, the mom of Maddy's best friend got all parties involved to actually talk, and everything was worked out.  Otherwise, TBH and I were going to be undertaking some serious emotional damage control if Maddy would have been unable to attend....

...but the crisis was averted, Maddy attended and took part in a scavenger hunt at the local mall, a TP assault on a neighbor's house, and the thrill of staying up way too late.  All activities were reportedly fueled by shrieking and copious amounts of Red Vines.  When I picked her up Sunday morning she looked tired, but very happy.  Nothing traumatic happened, no one was snubbed or had their feelings hurt...it just sounded like a residence full of 9-10 year old girls that refused, for the most part, to go to sleep.  In the end, TBH and I were relieved she had a great time...and that the party did not take place at our house.

Eggs Benedict Arnold

Sometimes I make decisions that are truly baffling.  Most of the time these decisions lead to nothing more than having to explain myself in great detail to others.  Other times there are consequences, some serious, some annoying, but usually never painful.  This morning I made a breakfast decision that resulted in great discomfort...and I'm still recovering.

Today was the company National Sales Meeting. I'm not in sales, but the team I'm on develops the relationships and account plans that supports the sales team.  I won't get into details because that would be boring.  Just know that I'm not in sales.

Anyway, there was a breakfast buffet at the hotel where the sales meeting was being held.  Breakfast buffets are a weakness of mine.  Scrambled eggs, toast, pork products of every imaginable kind...what's not to like?  Well, this being Seattle someone always has to get too clever by half and Pacific Northwest up a recipe.  The result today was eggs Benedict served over crab cakes.  In theory, that's not a bad combo.  I love eggs Benedict and have been known to enjoy a crab cake from time to time.  What isn't good in theory or reality is to come in on the tail end of a breakfast buffet and partake of undercooked eggs and crab cakes that have been sitting around in a tepid warming tray for an undetermined amount of time.

A couple of hours after my ill-advised breakfast I got hit with searing stomach pain, dizziness, and nausea.  By the time I left to catch the train, I could barely form a proper sentence.  Luckily, I still had my Alka-Seltzer stash in my desk, so I downed some and that took the edge off.  Otherwise, it was going to be a very interesting train ride home as I honestly felt like I was going to heave my pancreas.  It was not good times.

It was touch and go when I got home, but the worst seems to have passed.  Still feeling a little lightheaded and really wiped out, but I don't think I'll be doing toilet bowl pullups anytime soon.  So, winning!  However, next time I'm presented with the option of eggs Benedict served over crab cakes at a breakfast buffet I am going to pass.  Instead, I'm going for the chicken fried geoduck and poached eggs.  What could go wrong there?   

Know When To Say When

Sometimes I stumble across a story that at first glance should not anger up my blood.  The a small detail emerges near the end of the story that red lines my rage meter.  For instance, the story of Roger Strong, the back country skier that had to be rescued from Snoqualmie last year after triggering an avalanche.  As if being buried in an avalanche weren't bad enough, his legs were smashed against a tree and he spent three months in a wheelchair.  It's been a year since the accident and his recovery story is being sold as 'inspirational', and it very well may be.  However, what cheesed me off is the fact that he is married and has a very young daughter yet will continue to back country ski after having a near fatal accident.  Strong even admits he's lucky to be alive, but states that not being able to back country ski would be like depriving him of the oxygen he breathes by 50%.  Yes, well...how 'bout this Rog...next time you trigger an avalanche you may not be so lucky and the results would be depriving your daughter of 50% of her parents.  I understand that back country skiing is a 'passion', but why not channel some of that energy into sticking around for your kid?  The time to take chances with your life ended when you became a parent...imagine the impact your death would have on your family and your daughter growing up without you.  If you were a single guy, hey, I'd say great job on the rehab and you've got more guts than I do by returning to what nearly killed you.  But you aren't a single guy, you are married with a young daughter...continuing to pursue your passion is just selfish.

Well, wasn't that a peachy way to start this post?  Hmmm, what else has me riled up...oh yeah, Manti Te'o.  So, first off, I'm renaming my fantasy football team Fake Dead Girlfriend next year.  That's low hanging fruit that needs picked.  Secondly, wow...Manti is either the dumbest person to ever play linebacker for Notre Dame or incredibly and unbelievably naive.  I've heard just about every side of this story and I still think he was somehow in on it.  There's no way anyone is as stupidly naive as he claims to be.  Manti Te'o was more than willing to share details of how he met his dead fake girlfriend, things they did together, etc., when the story advanced his narrative.  As the story collapsed he turtled up and now wants us to believe that he was too embarrassed to admit it was an online only relationship and they never actually met.  If that were the case, why exploit the living piss out of that relationship all season long?  That's still the part that makes no sense - he pumped this up as Love Story, Part II and hooked a lot of people into believing him.  I feel he played a part in perpetuating the hoax and his involvement will be discovered by private dicks hired by the NFL during the vetting process of potential draftees.

I'm glad to see the fog has finally begun to dissipate.  Getting to work the last couple of mornings has been more of an adventure than usual due to icy roads.  I almost piled the Black Mamba up into a row of parked cars getting out of our neighborhood.  Luckily, the tires caught a bare spot and I was able to safely navigate the car without incident.  The fog also seems to amplify the cold, so standing around and waiting for the train to arrive hasn't been fun either.  I'm also just sick of the gray, fog makes everything look dilapidated and hung over...walking through the thick air makes me feel as if I'm strolling through a BBC production of yet another Jack the Ripper story...minus the homicidal slasher attacking and hacking ladies of the night.

If you get a chance, check out Leo Kottke's cover of 'Sweet Emotion'...lots of guitar noodling for those of you that enjoy such things.

Cheers!    

Back On The Wholesale Wagon

The Better Half and I decided back in November that we would let our Costco membership expire.  Such a decision is nothing short of sacrilege to some of my 9 readers, but we had good reasons.  One, we had no big expenditures in the way of home improvements on the horizon...so the Executive Membership with the lure of 2% cash back made no sense.  Downgrading to a regular no cash back membership stopped making sense as well when we started to find a lot of the items we buy at Costco going for much less at the Bonney Lake WinCo.  The WinCo is also easier to get to, especially after church.  The nearest Costco stores are in Covington or Federal Way.  The parking lot for the Covington Costco is a tragedy of misused space and poor planning, while parking in Federal Way is nothing short of a destruction derby.  So, no more Costco.

Unfortunately, buying butcher block items at WinCo is hit or miss.  A lot of things appear as if they had the '$2.00 off this package NOW' stickers removed that morning.  I've been told that isn't the case, but all of the packaged meat looks to be of dubious origin.  I'm sure it's all fine, but I'm not playing that game.  As much as I love Top Foods, I don't like having to feel as if I need to take out a line of credit in order to shop there.  The bakery, deli, and butcher at Top Foods are awesome, but you pay a premium for awesome.  The Albertsons off of A Street is the Mos Eisley Cantina of grocery stores...a wretched hive of scum and villainy and teenagers shotgunning beers inside the walk in cooler.  I'd rather be caught shopping at RadioShack than Safeway. 

The above put us in a tough spot, but we did last a whole two months without a wholesale warehouse membership...but here's the thing...the kids have to eat.  Yeah, it sounds crazy, but it is true...especially my kids, with diet preferences that make pandas appear to be culinary daredevils.  My kids eat the following in hard to fathom quantities - grapes, berries of all sorts, apples, eggs, oranges, bananas, broccoli, carrots, bread, and cheese.  Oh, and Annie's Organic Mac & Cheese, Kraft products simply will not do.  All of that is healthy stuff, but it can be expensive when not purchased in bulk...especially berries.  The girls will mow through a large clam shell of blueberries quicker than a school of piranhas picking apart an unlucky missionary that fell out of a canoe deep in the Amazon.  Have you seen how much blueberries go for at regular grocery stores?  Exactly...

So, last night I was with Jossy at WalMart, buying her a new bicycle helmet.  There was a stand at the front of the store offering a $20.00 Gift Card for signing up for a $40 Sam's Club membership.  I bit.  We are once again Sam's Club members, which we had been for years before letting that expire so we could make the jump back to Costco.  It's all very complicated...

Anyway, Sam's Club is a lot like Costco, just more depressing and not nearly as busy.  It's also easily accessible from the train station, so if I need to run in there after work to pick up a depth charge sized container of maple syrup or a cinder block of cheddar cheese I won't have to go too far out of my way.  Like Costco, it's impossible to get out of there for under $50.00, even if you go in just to buy butter...warehouse stores have a knack for making you want stuff you may not necessarily need. 

Next year we will once again assess the need for a wholesale membership.  Perhaps then the girls will have stretched their palates to the point of trying pasta with red sauce, and if you aren't buying Newman's Best by the barrel you are getting taken for a ride, suckas!  

  

Paperback Writer

I finally did it, I completed the first chapter of the book I've been meaning to write for over a decade.  I've tentatively titled the book, 'That Could Have Gone Better'.  It is going to be a mixture of cultural essays sprinkled with a lot or personal touches, a memoir about someone that really isn't all that interesting...

Now, I really have no idea what I'm going to do once it has been completed.  I'm hoping to have it wrapped up before June and will e-publish it then.  However, I wouldn't mind having a hard copy of it as well, even if it is only one actual book. Other thoughts are to go the William Young route and dole out chapters or portions of the book as it is being written...and still go with a hard copy for each one of the girls...or friends that may want one...or family. I guess we'll see what happens, but I think it would be kind of cool to show the girls, 'hey look, your goofy ass dad wrote a book...' but again, I have no clue as to what steps I need to take to get that done...or how to find someone to edit and proof what I've written and offer up suggestions.  My writing style is disjointed at best, but that's part of my 'voice' (yes?).  I never really carve out time to write, it just kind of happens.  I've knocked out ideas on the train, thought about how to unfold a story or essay while running, but I never come home and go into 'writing mode'.  I'm too disorganized for that and I have other responsibilities as well...like feeding the kids and what have ya.

Getting the first chapter done was a relief...

Other items of note - Hmmm, so 'Girls' is back for season 2.  I really despise the individuals that keep calling Lena Dunham 'brave' for her writing and acting.  She's not a hack, but there is nothing 'brave' about taking your clothes off if you are an actress...especially if you are an up and coming actress and writer trying to make a splash.  Anyway, 'Girls'...I thought season 1 was uneven.  The first few episodes struck me as pretentious and the writing was contrived.  By the end of the season, however, the two characters I despised the most (Adam and the coffee shop guy) became my two favorites because they seemed genuine.  Allison Williams' character also took some interesting turns and the series could almost center around her.  The Brit gal was a joke, the Jewish gal was just too much, and the Lena character was a nightmare.  Season 2 isn't off to a great start either, and I get that this series isn't aimed at me.  I wasn't the target demo for iCarly either, but I recognize clever writing when I see it and iCarly had that in spades.  We'll see where 'Girls' goes, but I'm keeping my expectations tempered.

I've been listening to a lot of solo Robert Plant of late, especially 'Fate Of Nations' and 'The Principle Of Moments' (an album title more befitting an offering from Pink Floyd rather than a  former member of Led Zeppelin that once called himself Percy and sang about lemon juice running down his leg).  As I've been listening I've come to the realization that Robert Plant's solo output has been grossly overlooked.  There are some real moments of musical artistry on both albums...'29 Palms' is a great tune, so is 'In The Mood' even if it is a bit simple.  A box set of Plant's solo work would be something I would look into if I ran a record label...

That's all I've got for now, I'll be working on chapter two of the book for the next week or so, pecking out a paragraph at a time.  The band Frente! will be heavily involved...      

Yakkity Yak...

I woke up this morning feeling like I had gone a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson the day before, and Iron Mike went to the body with unbridled ferocity.  My sides and abs ached and were cramping up and my head was spinning.  Not good times, and I feared the worst...that the dreaded Stomach Bug of 2013 had hit me and hit me hard...but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. 

After some initial waves of nausea, I fumbled my way downstairs and ate a fistful of Tums and chased them down with about a pint of water.  Both gave my rumbling gut something to think about as I took a shower, dragged a razor across my face, and got dressed.  Luckily, I ironed clothes the night before, otherwise I would have been hard pressed to throw something together that matched, let alone looked presentable.  So, I didn't show up to work looking like a hobo...I had that much going to me. 

There are two ways to fight a stomach bug.  The first would be to not fight at all, just succumb to the sour stomach and let loose the ghost in the nearest bathroom.  The second would be to throw everything you have at it...Tums, Pepto Bismol, Alka Seltzer, ginger ale...anything and everything...give the peasants revolting in your digestive track all they can handle...and that's what I did, but add some frozen breakfast taquitos to the arsenal because a brotha has to eat, no? 

With a stomach full of antacids, I drove off to the train and regretted that decision almost immediately.  Luckily, it was close to being science project cold out this morning, so I opened the Black Mamba's windows and let the arctic air flow over me.  Oxygen is a natural stomach settler and in this instance it made me feel good enough to press on.  Near the train station I stopped off at a coffee stand and purchased some apple juice and Sprite for the road as a substitute for the ginger ale they did not have.  This helped some, but ginger ale or gatorade would have been better.

However, once I hit the train everything nearly derailed for me.  Because the train was full, I had to sit facing backwards.  Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but with my nausea rapidly approaching DEFCON 2 levels I began formulating a contingency plan in case the perimeter was overrun and there was no holding back the partisan bastards in my stomach...do I barf in the bag with my workout gear, do I run to the restroom downstairs on the train, do I take my jacket off and tie the arms together to create a make shift barf bag?  So many options....

I arrived downtown without incident, but my fellow riders had no idea how close they had come to reliving a scene from 'Contagion' on their commute to work this morning.  I stepped off the train and into the cold Seattle morning.  Remember how I said inhaling oxygen is a natural way to treat nausea?  Well, oxygen mixed with a hearty helping of diesel fumes is the exact opposite.  I took a deep breath and got a lung full of fumes and almost lost it, but again, I kept it together even though my mouth was getting watery and the pressure was building. The only thing I could do was to keep moving and get to fresh air.  Once I was clear of the fumes everything started falling back into place...

My desk contains emergency rations of Alka Seltzer.  Why I did not know of the magic properties of Alka Seltzer back in my stay out till 4am closing down the bars booze hound days is beyond me.  Alka Seltzer is an elixir and has saved my ass more than once.  Today was another one of those days.  I ripped open a packet and dumped two enchanted tablets into my water...a minute later I let the effervescent wonder wash over me as I drank it down.  About ten minutes later I was feeling close to human again, but by 11AM the spins revisited.  I pounded down another dose of Alka Seltzer and made a fateful decision; I went for a 2.5 mile run.

During the first mile of my run I honestly think my body was confused.  Confronted with the stomach bleeding brought on by the Alka Seltzer, the virus raging a violent war against it, and my increased heart rate my legs said, 'eff it', and we chugged along at a decent clip.  When the second mile approached things got a little sportier.  I was feeling lightheaded and queasy, but picked up the pace.  I wasn't going to give in to this bug and figured by increasing my heart rate I would be increasing....something else that might destroy the virus.  As a precaution, I did keep my workout towel very close at hand.  The last half mile was touch and go, but I finished with a quarter mile sprint.  A brief cool down period later it was off to the showers and back to my desk...

Let's just say things weren't too pretty when I got back to my desk.  I was tired, dizzy, and wave after wave of nausea was crashing down on me.  I took a big swig of water and made fateful decision number two of the day...I stuffed the peanut butter sandwich I brought for lunch into my yap.  That soon became decision number two of the day I instantly regretted, but the PB sandwich stayed down and actually quelled the anger inside me.  A liter of water, another handful of Tums, and a meeting later and my day was done.

The train ride home was much better than the ride into work.  I made TBH chicken fajitas for dinner, did some dishes, and now I'm sitting here hammering out this post.  I'm still feeling a little beat up, but much better than I did this morning.  And for those of you wondering if I infected the entire office, well, according to my doctor the time you are actually most contagious would be 24-48 hours before symptoms appear.  So, co-workers you are safe...everyone else I was around this weekend, not so much.  Sorry about that.   

Burning Up!

Every January I seem to have the same conversation with the furnace.  Actually, it isn't a conversation, it's a mournful pleading where I hope and beg that something serious isn't afoot.  When I got home from work, the house was a chilly 61 degrees.  Maddy complained that her hands were so cold they hurt.  The other two girls were huddled underneath a blanket playing Candy Land.  I immediately checked the thermostat and it was set where it is always set, a nice comfortable 67 degrees...1 degree warmer and the upstairs gets hotter than a boiler room in an old timin' ocean liner, 1 degree cooler and we are a digit away from the mark of the beast, which was a great Iron Maiden album, but I don't like pushing my luck...

ANYWAY, the thermostat was fine, but chilly air was blowing up through the vents.  That means the furnace wasn't kicking on.  I marched back out to the garage and just kind of listened to it cycle a couple of times, muttering too myself and staring into the thing like a slack jawed fool.  The only thoughts going through my head were that repairs are expensive, a new furnace more expensive, and finally...when was the last time I cleaned the air filters?  The answer to the latter would be...last January.

The filters were caked with dust to the point that I could have started a grow operation with them.  These things are supposed to be cleaned every quarter, but I always forget...just like I forget to clean the air ionizers in the dust thingy connected to the furnace (those need to be scrubbed down, which wasn't happening tonight).  Oh well, a quick hit with the Dyson later and the filters were good as new and reinserted into the furnace.  I shut the applicable hatches, restarted the heater, and whattya know, heat!  Two kids could stop huddling under blankets like orphans in a Dickens novel, and Maddy was no longer in danger of losing her hands to frostbite.  Win, win, win!

Side note - Why is 61 degrees an absolutely pleasant day around here, with people wearing shorts and what not...but 61 degrees in the house is intolerable?  That just doesn't make sense.  You know what else doesn't make sense?  In the summer, I set the AC for 70 degrees and it's perfectly acceptable...every one sleeps comfortably at night and indoors is a nice reprieve for those 4 days a year it tops 85...but in the winter if the house hits 70 degrees, which the girl that watches the kids sometimes cranks the thermostat to, the house transforms into Bangladesh in the middle of summer.  All we are missing are mosquito nets, Dengue fever outbreaks, and monkeys swinging from the ceiling fans...that's just never made sense to me either.  What gives?        

Random Catch Up Time...

Yesterday was 80's and 90's day at the girls school, meaning they could wear fashion inspired by either decade.  Luckily, all the neon stuff girls loved 27 years ago is back in fashion, so both gals went 80's out.  That's all fine and dandy because I honestly can't remember 90's fashion outside of Doc Marten boots, t-shirts, and depending on your geographic location, flannel shirts...but I don't think either girl would have appreciated being sent to school looking like a member of a Soul Asylum tribute band (if one existed, Runaway Train would be a most predictable name for one).  But, as I'm fond of saying, that's another post for another time...

David Bowie is now 66 years old and he has aged rather gracefully all things considered.  His new single, 'Where Are We Now?', took me a couple of listens to really absorb.  By the third spin, I was hooked.  It's a good song, nothing earth shattering, but the kind of song written and performed by a man comfortable in his own skin, but fondly remembering a past life.  The video is pure Bowie, his face projected onto that of a motionless puppet.  A woman's face occupies the head next to him as they both seem to be sitting in a room filled with artifacts and mementos gathered in life.  The song gathers momentum as the bittersweet melody rolls along, reaching a fitting coda of 'as long as there's me, as long as there's you'.  Images of old Berlin flicker on a screen behind the puppets, scenes from a time when Bowie was hitting his stride as an artist.  He wrote his Berlin Trilogy of albums, 'Low', 'Heroes', and 'Lodger' during his time there, and lyrics from the new song make reference to some of his favorite haunts.   

It is a real rarity that a musician and writer that was as bold and daring as Bowie can glide into a new phase of their careers and life and not really miss a beat either way.  Sure, the Thin White Duke lived through his share of controversies, but unlike some of his peers, he never succumbed to them.  And his creative output, while suffering various starts and stops, has never reached the point of being embarrassing.  Even his work with Tin Machine contained moments of artistic brilliance ('Bus Stop' is a favorite of mine).

So, happy birthday, David Bowie...and I'm looking forward to you new album in March!

Hmmm, a new season of The Bachelor is on...and from the short bit I've watched, the women vying for the love of our boring as imitation vanilla extract bachelor have all ramped up the crazy...and all I watched was a small portion of the awkward exit the limo/meet the bachelor exchanges.  And this season we have our first amputee as one of the women is missing a portion of her arm.  Perhaps for the Bachelorette they will introduce the first lactose intolerant would be Mr. Bachelorette...that would be intense.

I had a Pet Peeve all queued and ready to go, but I shelved it for today so I can hit ya'll up with a double pet peeve tomorrow...try and sleep tonight knowing that's going to happen.  Boo ya!  Oh, and I've picked up some new readers in Australia (g'day, mates!), Belgium, and Canada (brown gravy!!!)...always good to have new readers I'll eventually disappoint! 

Pet Peeve Of The Day - Prince

By 1990 the signs were in place that Prince had begun to lose some velocity on his fastball.  Oh, he still had the chops, non-titanium hips, and artistic capital left over from his commercial peak to generate interest when a new album dropped...but the quality of each album after the epic 'Sign O' The Times' was tipping more and more towards the janky side of the house.  'Lovesexy' lacked a sense of urgency or creative energy and the  first single, 'Alphabet St', came across like a throwaway even though it was the only track on the album with a hook.  The 'Batman' soundtrack, released in 1989, has actually aged quite well, especially songs like 'The Future' and 'Electric Chair'.  If you wash away the stink of the Tim Burton movie it accompanied it's a solid release with only a couple of dogs, but the album/soundtrack are forever linked because no one remembers anything outside of the, um, studio genius gone batsh*t crazy title track.  Oh, and the duet with Sheen Easton is cringe worthy...

When Prince decided to film a half-assed follow up to 'Purple Rain' entitled 'Graffiti Bridge', well, no one really knew what to expect.  I, for one, attended an opening night screening in Los Angeles and it took me about 23 minutes to realize it was a musical, and an incomprehensible one at that.  So, for a 1/4 of the film I sat in the theater mindlessly watching what appeared to be the world's longest music video, oblivious to the fact that whatever plot existed was being played out in the songs.  I was...disappointed.  The movie was ridiculously bad to the point that Morris Day and Jerome Benton barely salvaged the scenes they were in...and they were the only two people that seemed to be trying. 

Although the movie was a train wreck, the soundtrack wasn't 1/2 bad...and I mean that quite literally.  Of the 17 songs on the soundtrack album, 3 tracks are genuinely outstanding, 5 more are very good.  The other 9 tracks are crap.  Now, 'Graffiti Bridge' is one of the few Prince albums I don't own.  I once had a copy on cassette, but I never did make the upgrade to CD...there just weren't enough good tracks to justify me dropping 18 bones on it...which brings me to my Pet Peeve Of The Day... 

Prince is a lot of things...he's a phenomenal guitarist and multi-instrumentalist...he's puts on a hell of a live show...he's a short sex obsessed hobbit...he's eccentric and makes baffling creative decisions from time to time...but he's also cagey.  Prince knows that in the new world of iTunes, consumers can cherry pick their favorite tracks off albums.  He's not having any of that, especially on an uneven album like 'Graffiti Bridge'.  If you want 'Can't Stop This Feeling I've Got', you are taking the awful 'Melody Cool' with you...the musical equivalent of going out with a girl only to find out her unattractive wet blanket of a friend is joining you.  The only song you can buy as a one off is 'Thieves In The Temple', but only because it has been included on other compilations. 

Prince is also very aware that many of his fans, including this one, are completeists, so having a gaping hole in their CD collection where 'Graffiti Bridge' should be irritates them like a sore tooth...but not so much so that I'm going to buy the entire digital version of the album.  It's still not worth it no matter how much it bothers me on an existential level...

At some point Prince and other artists that make individual songs unavailable unless you purchase the entire album are going to have to change their stance.  I'm more than willing to drop $6.00 on the songs I really want, but having to spend an extra $5.00 to get them is nonsensical...and there are others that feel the same way I do.  It's just bad business.  Yes, there are those that only like the so-called hits, but those consumers were never going to buy the whole album anyway...and if they did, it's not like the rest of the songs are going to convert them to superfans and inspire them to download the entire 'Gold Experience' album (ugh).  Plus, three of the songs I want off the 'Graffiti Bridge' album are by The Time...and according to Morris Day, gigolos get lonely too...and they gotta eat.  Why is Prince making it so hard to throw a couple dollas a playa's way? 

Bandwagon Is Getting Full

Looks like Matt Drudge has climbed aboard the Seahawks bandwagon...

Hillary back to work Monday...


CAN THEY BE STOPPED?

Karma Chameleon

The word 'karma' gets thrown around quite a bit, with most not having a true understanding of what karma is.  In the Western world, karma has taken on a meaning of what goes around comes around...the Bible states you reap what you sow...and Ratt sang 'Round and 'Round'.  Yes, well...

I'm not a believer in karma, I don't think there is a cosmic force guiding causation, that one action begets an offsetting reaction down the line.  The world just doesn't work that way.  That philosophy also flies in the face of most major religions that state mankind exists under the banner of freewill.  We make decisions and choices and there are no predetermined experiences or acts that will befall us later.  Yes, to every action there is a reaction, but those reactions are more the function of natural acts or counter choices made by others.  Example:  I punch a Falcons fan in the face tomorrow morning and on the way home I wrap my car around a telephone pole.  Was my accident the result of karma, or am I just a really sh*tty driver...was their ice on the road?  A totally justified punching out of a too cocky for their own good Falcons fan does not set the wheels in motion for me to experience a car crash.  And if the Falcons fan punched me back that does not equate to karmic retribution either...that's called a brawl.

The pugnaciously stupid enjoy throwing the word karma around, it is their way of justifying their own disgusting existence.  These individuals have no concept of personal accountability, so in a desperate act of self preservation they perversely hope that tragedy and misfortune befall others.  An even more repugnant behavior that these ghastly little people partake in is celebrating when something unfortunate does happen to others.  Some of these evil ghouls aren't above figuratively dancing on graves either, and would probably do so literally if given the opportunity.

Here's the crazy part about the karma bomb throwers - they are probably the most miserable people walking the planet.  Rather than examining themselves and the root of their misery, they spend their time wishing tragedy upon their perceived enemies.  It's no way to live.  They sleep poorly in beds they made over the shards of glass and rusty nails of their own failures.  The failure to move on...the failure to realize their scorched earth approach to matters was idiotic and costly...the failure to understand that there are right and wrong ways to do everything.

Again, I don't believe in karma, and the above paragraph speaks more to the fact that 9 times out of 10 we are the cause of whatever discomfort we experience.  Sure, there are times when someone else can influence your life in minor or even profound ways, but you control how you react to it.  Think about that the next time someone cuts you off in traffic, do you lay on the horn and flip them off...do you hope they get into an accident down the road or pulled over by the police...or do you just blow it off and move on and not expend the energy that anger and hate requires?

If just half the people on earth took responsibility for themselves, their actions and reactions, the planet would be a much better place.  Next time you feel like pulling the pin on a karma grenade stop and think about which direction you are hurling it...is it at your 'enemy' or yourself?   
  

Do Not Look Upon The Face Of The Gorgon

Christmas officially ended for us on New Year's Day...all the exterior lights came down (with some help from the neighbors!) and were dried out in some unexpected sunshine before being tucked away in various bins until next year.  All in all it was a glorious day and capped off a fantastic week of visiting with family and friends.  Saying goodbye to Christmas can sometimes be a gloomy proposition as it signals that long slog through January that welcomes the grey dreariness that is usually February around these parts.  March is a wild card, and as Prince once sang, sometimes it snows in April....we'll see how the rest of this winter plays out....

So, another year come and gone...goals and resolutions left over from last year are resurrected for this year.  As I wrote in an earlier post, I'm not making resolutions, just living my life via a certain theme of less is more...which brings me to the following...

Every day we are surrounded by vampires.  Not the classic Bela Lugosi/Christopher Lee type, or the flamboyant dressing like Adam Ant vampire Lestat type, or even the sparkly Twilight type...I'm talking emotional vampires, the ones that feed on bitterness, hate, revenge, and malice.  Their hunger to dwell in past slights, real or imagined, is insatiable, and the more souls they can drag into the muck and mire of their lives, the more energy they gain.  These vampires are evil, they are cruel, and they are hopelessly unaware of the role they played in emotionally shackling themselves to an ebony boulder of mindless hate.

The fact that the emotional vampire is too dimwitted to realize that they are the cause of everything wrong in their lives means that reasoning with these entities is pointless.  Attempting to reason or engage with them in a logical and rational manner just begins a new cycle of pain and hurt for you while fanning their stupid inner fire of blind rage.       

How do you slay this particular vampire, this vile worm that slithers amongst us, that preys on our emotions and attempts to lure us into taking the bait attached to their barbed and nasty words?  You don't.  'But that's impossible!', you say. Is it impossible, or just very, very, very difficult?

Keep in mind that the agony these individuals are in is entirely self-inflicted, but rather than look inward to resolve their deep-seeded issues these beings choose to lash out...to project their shortcomings onto others...to drain your emotional energy to revitalize themselves.  The only option you have is to starve this beast, do not give them an ounce of your emotional energy or time.  Freeze them out of your lives and your thoughts because engagement only leads to more of your emotional destruction.  For your sake and for the quality of your own life leave them buried in the emotional graves they dug themselves or deep within tombs they sealed with their own deeds.

The above isn't easy, I've wrangled with emotional vampires and fallen for their tricks on more occasions than I would like to admit.  However, you will never be able to concentrate on yourself, your life, your family, if you are dealing with these individuals.  Move forward, don't waste your breath, your time, or your precious emotional energy on them.  Don't get even, don't seek revenge, don't even wish or think about either of those actions...the more time and emotional energy you spend hashing out revenge plots or wishing ill will on them is less time you have for you and yours.  Don't think about evil people.  Don't talk to evil people.  Don't engage on any level with evil people that wish to bring you down to their level.
 
So, back to my theme of 'less is more' for 2013...I want to spend less time dealing with emotionally evil human leeches, which will lead to more time doing what is truly important.  Remember, fighting a pig results in you getting filthy and the pig getting happy...don't fight pigs...and don't ever look upon the face of the gorgon.  In both instances, you lose.           

Clamp Down

Oh my, it appears that I have a not-so 'anonymous' reader that has decided to act in a most unbecoming manner.  Due to 'anonymous', I have had to lock down the ability to leave comments on posts.  You can still leave comments, but I get to read and approve posts before they get published.

Happy New Year!