The Flying Soup Mobile...

I've driven some strange things in my life, but this is probably the strangest. Propane tank fueled, this brightly painted hunk of fiberglass has a cap of 35mph downhill, take off 15 or so for uphill stretches. I've driven it twice. the first time, I was pulled over because apparently, my boss had forgotten to renew the tags. This time, by some stroke of luck, I was not pulled over. The mirrors weren't even positioned correctly, so I had no idea when I was changing lanes if someone was there or not. It took 3 tries to start the thing because the event it had been parked at had required us to remove the contact from the battery. There is far more to mention regarding the experience, but alas, I am exhausted.

Tomorrow morning, I drive it to work in rush hour traffic.

This has been brought to you under the influence of various alcoholic beverages which were given to me while wandering about the food show this evening. I remember 2 red wines, vodka, a spiced rum called 'horny' and Sweetwater Blue.

Another One Bites The Dust...

Tonight, I had my best Oscar Picks showing probably ever. Still, I was tied for 2nd place with two others. The 1st place winner was the every year winner, so my first place prize was well decided upon ahead of time. I deferred to the other two I was tied with for 2nd and 3rd place. 2nd place won an AMC movie ticket plus a large soft drink. 3rd place won a black feather (for Black Swan), $1. 27 (for 127 hours), a spoon (for the Fighter--think about it) and a large soft drink at an AMC movie (because I didn't have time to think about a toy, something monarchical, a bone, something lesbianical and whatever else was nominated).

Overall, it was an excellent party, one which will go down in history as the party with the best beer, the best cake (thanks, Emmeline) and the best trivia (thanks Laurie, Ed and myself). Hail to the king, baby.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Founders Arrogant Bastard, Southern Tier 2x IPA, Wee Heavier Scotch Ale and some good old fashioned Red red wine. Ah, the glory days...

All Things Must Pass...

Tonight my trivia team lost our first round at TJ's, a Friday night event which gives away $100 in house cash to the winners. We don't go often, but every time we have gone over the past year or so, we always get first place and split the winnings. Tonight, that streak was dashed against the jagged rocks of 50/50 guessing. Oddly, 50 was our score tonight. In 15 years, I'll be 50. This means something...

This has been brought to you under the influence of Newcastle and a pint of something that wasn't the Newcastle I ordered so they gave it to me free. I'm thinking it was Sweetwater 420, but I can't be sure.

Today's Idiot: (Former) Coach John O'Connor...

Today I watched a viral video of the basketball coach for Holy Family University in which he pushes a student to the ground in an effort to transmit some chutzpah to the team. He also kicked him (possibly lightly) when he was done, again, to help drive the point home that they need to play better.

After the student filed a police report, several news programs invited them on for comment. His statements were clearly driven by his attorney (who sat at his side in one particular interview) but had no sincerity behind them.

Essentially, he 'didn't do anything wrong' but apologized.

He considers it an accident, but it was 'intentional'.

Later he called it 'unintentional, and wishes he could take it back'.

The truth is, he could care less how his actions are perceived by the players, but it was caught on tape and leaked to the news. What he cares about is being forced out of his job because of the hype that viral videos can create.

Here is my solution: don't suck as a coach. Teams of whipped dogs don't perform as well as well-groomed, well-cared for ones. Even without the 'injured' player, their team is getting beat. When you have questionable coaching practices that can sometimes go over the line, it helps if you win your games. People tend to give you a little more leeway in that case.

This has been brought to you under the influence of a host of libations, including Southern Tier Imperial Red and Founders Hopsomething. I can't remember the name. It was that good.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow...

Tonight is pregnant with anticipation. For tomorrow, I get my taxes done. I usually get several thousand back on taxes. Yay. Tomorrow also is my book club get together. We will be discussing Endurance, the story of Shackleton's Antarctic misadventure. Very moving. Makes you realize there is little we do these days that qualifies as adventurous, let alone dangerous. But, we will be meeting at the Square Pub, which as a certain Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar on draft, which I shall be partaking of liberally during the conversation. Oh, and the bug lady is coming in the morning. Nancy. She is wonderful. Remembers even the most minute detail about your life and asks you about it while defeating the future efforts of God's little mistakes, insects. It should be a good day.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Founders' Double Trouble and Red, the wine we are still working our way through a case of. Together, these wonder twins form brain freeze and a monkey to throw darts at my temples. Don't ask me how they ever got anyone, let alone themselves, out of trouble with the Legion of Doom.

To Die For...

Not an outright terrible caption to put near a mixed drink on a billboard. It looked quite good in the picture. Perhaps at the corporate offices of Hacienda Mexican restaurants, their only marketing sin was in being too literal about their intentions, mentioning being 'like a cult', only having better drinks. Marketing execs had clearly studied out the concepts how to create a following, incorporating aspects of their business that they wanted to highlight, even referencing something most adults would remember--The Jonestown Massacre. And therein lay the problem. Apparently, making cute jokes about being a cult but having better Kool-Aid seemed a bit dark to some. Offensive even. Now, I don't know (or know that I know) anyone who lost someone close to them in the Jonestown Massacre. I think most people don't. Part of being in a cult is cutting ties with people you care about or bringing them in with you. Regardless, it's not the kind of thing you want to think about when you are deciding where to take your family out for dinner.

Marketing hasn't really advanced so far that we can really afford to lose the staples, has it? Obnoxious mascots, nerds dancing, references to 19th Century lit. These are always rock solid choices. Still, if there are those out there whose pioneering spirit in marketing has not been quenched, feel free to use these ideas:

Domino's: Unlike the clientele of the Atlanta teenage sex trade, we know exactly where our slice comes from.

McDonald's: More fun than a picnic in Christchurch.

Doc Greens: you'll pour more oil on our salads than a busted offshore drill.

Men's Warehouse: You're gonna like the way you look. Or, if you don't, take the suit off like the atom bomb took skins off in Nagasaki.

You get the picture.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Claritin D, which I swear has messed more with my head than all of the former libations I have cited put together.

Monday, Monday...

Worked today. Walked around a park near where I work with my wife. Unseasonably warm for a day in mid to late February. In the North, I remember February as being the most frustrating month of the year. You wanted a break from winter, but it just wasn't coming. In Atlanta, we end up with 70+ temps and a hot sun. This just a few weeks after Superman's ice fortress covered the land. Weird.

Tonight, we dined upon Jambalaya over jasmine rice and a few lovely double IPA's. The cats approved, as was indicated by their licking of the rims of our pint glasses. Soon will be their 1st birthday celebration. St. Patrick's Day. Not my doing. I swear. The vet narrowed it down to that day. I simply named them: Hops and Barley. March 17th we drink Guinness and wear green in my house. What else can I do?

Just as my mother taught me. Sometimes no news is good news.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Port Brewery's 15 Ale and Founders' Double Trouble IPA. Both lovely. Both packing a wallop.

Better Faith Than Sorry...

My wife and I attended a church service for the first time this year this morning. It was a good message, full of international perspective and optimism (the leader is a Brit who has obviously been involved in mission work and is up to date on the status of faith in a good number of countries world wide). Perhaps the most important thing I took from today was to be careful with my pessimism. I have on many occasions dismissed the idea of evangelizing while citing the 'narrow road' quote from Jesus. Narrow is the road to Heaven, and few will make it, and so forth. Logistically, that means that the minority of the people in the world will go to Heaven. Now, that may be true, but it occurred to me that I ought to look at it another way today. God is outside of time, and all time essentially exists at once for Him (or so we can only grasp). Given that, and given the relatively slow to moderate spread of the 'good news' over the past 20 centuries, it is certainly possible that the logistical minority of believers could still be yet to come, whereas the larger majority of unbelievers could largely have already passed. Say 51% will not be deemed worthy. Well, that could include 51% of people who have ever lived, not just who are currently living. We could exist in a day and age where literally all people could be converted and still have a smaller number overall than the total of the unbelieving past and current population.

Go figure that I would seize on something as bizarre and polarizing as this. Not that anyone reads this thing, but I find it ironic that of all the opinions I attempt to espouse here, there can be none more offending, at least to the bulk of the people I know, than my opinions when it comes to spiritual matters, particularly those of judgement. No one wants to hear about that. They assume because you believe it will happen that somehow you have something to do with it. As if believing it were a form of willing it to be. I don't wish it. Trust me. But I live in reality, and that includes some certainties of faith. Sorry.

In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. That's one way to say it. My way would go something like: In the end, we all get exactly what we ask for. I'll be darned if life has shown me a reason to believe differently.

The Winter Beer Carnival...

Or so it was billed. Oddly, we stood in a long line underneath a remarkably hot mid-February sun, just waiting to get our wristbands and our red star stamps, those happy indicators of our ability to imbibe. It wasn't until much later that the clouds rolled over and it almost felt once again like Spring hadn't begun yet. Not that I'm complaining. This was a ridiculous winter in Atlanta. Not ridiculous because of the amount of snow and ice. Ridiculous because the city is apparently in denial that such a thing as snow and ice could happen, and worse, stick around for several days. Perhaps it will revert to a summer scenario like we had last year, where temperatures hit the 90s for 9 straight months.

General notes on the festival: limited and unremarkable beer selection, overwhelmingly attended by people I would not have thought to be 21 or over but for the dayglo green wristbands, a strange sort of celebrity.

Yes, the beer selection was unremarkable. Most of the beers there were poured from bottles, first of all, and were available widely around town already, more times than not in draught form. Nice. Next time charge 8.99 for admission, if you're just going to pour me beer from a bottle I could have gotten in a sixer for the same.

Young people. Probably all or mostly college aged. Nothing wrong with this type of person in general, but they tend to be outspoken about things. Perhaps time and reality haven't synced up yet in their lives to dissuade them from just letting fly with their newly found thoughts and opinions. Whatever it is, it makes me uncomfortable, and very likely, old.

Which leads perfectly into the final observation--today I was a celebrity. I can't tell you how many men complemented me on my beard. Granted, it's a formidable one. I don't shave the moustache either, which makes it even seem bigger. I've never been hit on by so many straight guys before. But that's not all. Not only did I step softly but carry a big facewig, I also stood in line for nearly 45 minutes (waiting for a corn dog, as one will) reading a book. That bought street cred with the ladies. So, I also had women coming up and asking about the book I was reading. I am a member of a book club I said. Oh, I've been in one of those, they countered. Tell me about this book. I shall endeavor to (this I did, not said). Anyway, at one point I was even accused of being a ninja, hiding in plain sight, at one point. You have to understand, I don't go to these events to socialize. That is why I came alone and brought a book. But apparently there was no ducking below radar what with reading a massive paperback called The Doomsday Book and wearing the burning bush over my face.

In the end it wasn't all bad. I do not regret going, and I have also come to the conclusion that I do not need to ever attend this particular festival again. All together, a rather productive day.

This has been brought to you under the influence of: Terrapin Hopsecutioner, Abita Turbodog, Rogue Mocha Porter, Point 2012 Black Lager, Red Brick Long John Ale and Porter, Holy Mackerel Panic Attack, Bridgeport IPA and Hop Czar and good old Sweetwater IPA. Plus some wicket McKellar 10 that I had when I got home.

Righteous Indignation...

I was in a discussion with a co-worker today who indicated that a Christians' faith is based mostly in fear, and that whenever something came along to challenge their beliefs, they tend to react aggressively towards is, as if it were a legitimate threat. On the outside, I can understand this. There has been an addition to the business we work for which includes some practices that are frowned upon by many Judeo Christian schools of thought, and it has been brought to light in front of the entire current constituency. Certainly some would be expected to react overtly in a negative way towards the news. I also understand that those who take the opposite viewpoint would be put off by the tide of opposition they are facing currently. It just doesn't make sense. It must be fear. Irrational fear.

All that I can say is that my faith is based not in fear, but in reality, cemented through decades of experience, countless instances of miracle and spiritual connection, and a core revelation of forgiveness. Judgmentality was eradicated in the face of this forgiveness. It had to be. I wonder how many of the critics of peripheral activities today who represent the 'moral majority' have a depth of understanding of forgiveness. If one does, it makes it very difficult to take seriously the judging of another. Trust me.

Still, I managed to be a little ticked about what was told to me today. Whenever someone generalizes about a group that you belong to, you can't help but take it personally. Especially when the person knows that you belong to said group. Therefore, I postulate that some of the feedback they have received has been summoned by outright fear, as they said. But I would be willing to bet that some came from straight forward righteous indignation, the kind that comes from a place of certainty, confidence, knowledge, and an overwhelming desire to cut to the chase.

This has been brought to you under the influence of a slightly different kind of Spirit...

Further Ironies...

I noticed a couple of tasty ironies this morning as I was driving to the make-up store to buy foundation for my wife (I am fully bearded, incidentally; this wasn't even one of the ironies I was considering). There is an abortion clinic about 1/2 mile from my home. As I pulled up to where the customary protesters were, I had my windows down and was blasting 'Business Time' by Flight of the Conchords. It's about how Wednesday night is sex night for the couple in the song. I thought that was a bit ironic.

A little further down the road, there is a large building with several businesses in it. One of them is a Mellow Mushroom pizza house, something created by some college guys in Athens, and clearly a testament to both great pizza and serious marijuana use. Behind it is the Da Vinci Club, a gay owned and operated night club. Between them, prominently jutting out from the building are the words 'Actors, Models and Talent for Christ' in red neon. Together, they make a sublime slice of irony, one that can only be found just around the corner, perhaps past the last house in your neighborhood, in a little place we call 'the twilight zone'.

Still drinking Red. I just am.

Sins of the Fathers...

A discussion I had earlier with my wife managed to resonate with me, and so I thought I would toss out an opinion here regarding one of the finer points. People are formed in the image of their parents. Whether we like it or not, we look like them, act like them, think like them, and are fundamentally made up of the same stuff as they are. The only ways in which we differ, beyond some basic 'no two snowflakes are ever alike' senses, are in the choices we make and the way we conduct ourselves based on them. For years, the Biblical threat of being punished for 'the sins of the fathers' really troubled me. I myself had some daddy issues growing up, and the last thing I wanted to think would happen is that I would face judgement over some of the things my father chose to do when he was younger. Well, over the years, I began to get a new understanding of what this might possibly mean. You see, in families (mine, my wife's and probably yours as well) each generation tends to mimic the previous one. I know of one family in which every generation there are alcoholics, addicts and co-dependents. It happens over and over again. It isn't even about the genetic predisposition, because we are talking about people marrying in and even children being adopted who exhibit the same darned behavior. In my family, one one side, there has been about 4 or 5 generations of illegitimacy among the females. Right, wrong or neither, it is something that keeps happening over and over again. Now, I realize that certain traits and characteristics are spread down through genetics and environment, but at any given time, a person can look at what has come before them and decide that they no longer want to take part in the abnormal or destructive behavior that the previous generations have chosen to take.

This may seem obtuse, but what it does for me is to show me that, from the Biblical perspective, people are not being unjustly convicted of the 'sins' which their elders committed. It is a conviction based on the fact that, by and large, people do not learn from the poor choices and bad mistakes of others, but simply fall into the same habits, perform the same unfortunate routines, and wind up creating more young that grow up without anyone stepping in to teach them any better. It's not an unjust judgement. Merely, it is a statement of how rare it is for someone to break the cycle of addiction, or infidelity, or illegitimacy, or insert your poison here. I realize more than ever now how difficult it is to find the generation that turns the tide, how rare it is to see someone learn from those who came before and turn those weaknesses into strengths. Anyway, this was what I gleaned from the discussion.

This has been brought to you under the influence of generations of poor choices, but hopefully, leaves me under better auspices.

When Passing the Torch, Someone Often Gets Burned...

Not much time today. A couple quick thoughts.

Someone at work relayed to me a recent study on marriage taken back in the 50's or so. Those women questioned responded overwhelmingly that their marriage was good because they were 'rarely' hit by their husbands.

This generation of adults, particularly the Southern ones, were also the ones who put up the most resistance to negro rights back in the day.

It's no wonder that the Baby Boomer generation was so reactionary, divorcing on a dime and violating the smalltown America/nuclear family notion at every turn.

It's also no wonder that Generation X, my generation, is so jaded and fed up with ignorance and hypocrisy. We've watched the example of our parents and grandparents and we are pissed about the stupid behavior. Grow up, come to or die off. It's a new world, and we're finally taking control of it. For better or for worse. Probably worse. I'm intelligent, not idealistic.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Red. I just bought a case of it, so a lot of these will probably be being brought to you as such.

Anticipation and Stuff...

It promises to be an eventful week. First off, my wife and I both work today, then both perform in a cabaret this evening. This will likely be my last performance of the year, so I am both relieved and extremely relieved. Although I spent many years performing regularly, I seem to have shaken off the bug. Most of the folks I work with are still at it, burning the candle at both ends, either performing themselves or running their own schools and theaters. I can't say I miss it much. I look at them, frenzied, exhausted, cramming so much activity into such a little space of time. Then I look at my cats. They are currently balled up on the floor around me like spent fire logs, vaguely aware of a new day beginning, which for them means the promise of some napping, climbing, eating, pooing and napping again. Honestly, we speak of accomplishment and greatness and laud the achievers in this life, but what about the pets? Who is smarter than they are? I would easily be my cat for a while. I'm sure somewhere there exists a bad 80s film which has already explored this paradigm shift.

In a couple of days, the owner of my restaurant will open a new cafe. It is a quaint spot, focusing more on breakfast and brunch, as well as some light lunch fare. The atmosphere is cozier and more intimate than the current space. It also happens to be about 200 yards from door to door. As we typically have a long line out the door during lunch hours, it will be interesting to see if the new space actually takes some of the current business away. However, I happen to know that the line itself discourages many people from stopping during the traditional lunch hours, and this new space my give an alternative that helps us realize the full potential of business that exists in the area. I am excited to have a spot to stop at before I open my place where I can kick back in front of a fire in a wingback chair with some high quality coffee. Lord knows, we could all use some incentive to get out of bed these days.

Finally, I have called for some extra rounds of trivia to be played. My team is rocketing towards another round of tournaments, and we need to position ourselves a little better so as to take full advantage of the opportunities afforded during these times. Plus winning = house cash = free beer. Again, reasons to get out of bed in the morning. The beer doesn't just roll up against me like the cat. There is an idea, though. Somehow get the cat to carry around a can, St. Bernard style. There. It's on the list. Of course I would then have to share it with the cat. Cash doesn't really appeal to them, since this hotel provides for every need. I'll have to revisit this one later.

Tolerance...

I rarely title a post before I start writing it, but this one was just bouncing around in my head. I have a friend who has that 'Tolerance' bumper sticker on her vehicle, the one spelled out of various religious icons and spiritual insignias. I know several people who have those, many of them who are Jewish. As always, I am quick to hone in on irony whenever it makes a public appearance. Jewish people, proper practicing Jews anyway, are technically supposed to be the least 'tolerant' people of all. They are God's chosen people, and history has shown that God has gone out of his way to make the Jews different, separate, exclusive, and most importantly intolerant of all nonjewishness. In the end, it mostly came down to hygiene and proper eating habits, but since those have picked up support in many different cultural circles nowadays, one has to infer a bit to realize the spiritual significance of such restrictions. They were to be kept apart. Set aside, as it were, for holier purposes.

Anyway, I have no problem with Jewish people, but I happen to know a good many of them, and the ironic thing is that they seem to be the most tolerant people I have ever come across. Tolerant to a fault, as it were. Unless you're talking Jesus. Then they pretty much stick to the party line. Anyway, brief moments in irony, captured here for none to see.

It's the Day of the Show, Y'all...

I realize there are probably many vastly more important things going on in the world than a cabaret (Uh, Egypt?), but in my world, that is really the big news. I have to get through work, then somehow get through the show. I hope it works, because tickets weren't cheap, and tonight is sold out. Hopefully tomorrow I can sleep until I don't, then re-acquaint myself with the rest of the world.

This has been brought to you under the influence of a strong desire to get an Einstein's coffee and bagel.

A Brief Pep Talk Before Checking Out...

Tonight I am exhausted. It's been the thing lately, I realize this, but tonight I am really gone. We have been rehearsing for a cabaret which opens tomorrow, and all of us have been at it to the point where we just cannot retain any more. Honestly, I do not know why I am so exhausted. I was always a night owl who could also get up early and work some insane morning job. Not any more. Perhaps it's just bad habit, dragging myself out of bed each morning. I hear the voice of a parent in my head: You don't want to feel groggy? I'll give you something to feel groggy about--hit that snooze button again!'.

And so, tomorrow I shall endeavor to rise upon first hearing of the alarm. It will not be pleasant. The kittens, which are alerted by the alarm that their person is awake and can thus pet them half-consciously will not understand when I rise as soon as they hit the spread. But we must all bear under this burden. I have of late lost my mornings to floundering nearsleep, and I will take them back. Which means I have to hit it. Now.

This has been brought to you under the influence of anything I could find, literally.

Brief Notes on a Not So Bad Day...

Saw an Oscar nominated film today via For Your Consideration. Nice packaging. I predict at least 1, possibly 3 Oscars for it. Picked up a new cardigan and a hoodie for my upcoming Hispanic boy band performance of 'There's a Prize in my Pants'. A nice night of preparing for a performance (cabaret) with my wife and coworkers. Later, at home, enjoyed beer and wine while getting the Martin Dreadnought out to back up my awesome partners' voice on Time After Time. Overall, not a bad day.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Red, a richly blended California wine.

Edwin Starr May Have Asked the Most Important Question Of Our Time...

War. Huh. Good God y'all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing?

Well, I really am not sure. I've had family members who participated in wars. I've lived through a few myself, though never as a participant. I must say, I attempt to live by a 'turn the other cheek' philosophy, so the concept of war seems very counter intuitive to me. I realize there are larger issues at hand, and that sometimes we must take up arms against our oppressors, whether to defend or simply to 'correct' a situation. All I can say is, I am glad I am not in a position to have to choose. My father's generation was the Vietnam war draft generation, and I know many of them would have rather fled to Canada than face the draft. I would probably have been one of them. Following the decisions, especially the decisions to kill, wreak, wreck and destroy, that stem from one man or a select few just does not appeal to me. We have a government. The government has power. It needs to, in order to run things. Someone has to make decisions, and they have to be followed or chaos ensues. But I'm really talking about the innocuous things, like trade laws, fiscal policies, the divvying of responsibilities to the states and other managerial responsibilities. I can even swallow the horse pill of bureaucracy for the sake of all that nonsense. But to land on a foreign shore with your weapons drawn and to be given no choice in the matter, such things are unacceptable. Granted, my grandfather was a peace loving man who found himself in France during WWII. He was fortunate enough to not have to kill anyone, or so he remembered. I certainly respect the dismantling of the camps, and am encouraged when I hear tell of those involved having done assisted without shedding blood themselves. In fact, this isn't so much an indictment on war (which I still have a moral aversion to) but on the draft. Fortunately, I haven't lived to see it re-instituted. I suppose as long as little soldiers, malcontents, Sgt. Rock's and warmongers are born to us, I never will. Keep breeding, middle America. Keep breeding.

The Best Part of Some Days Are Their Endings...

Today was kind of a difficult day. Many challenges. I had hoped to end the day on a solid note, having overcome said challenges and having wound up smelling like a fragrant offering to God. I suspect at some point that some pleasant fragrances were emitted, but overall, today kind of stunk. This is why we have beds in our homes. It is something to look at after a long day and be reminded of the fact that you can always try again tomorrow.

I also have the hiccups. Don't get me started.

This has been brought to you under the influence of too great a deal of negativity.

They Could Feel It Coming, All Right...

Having watched the Steelers lose to the better team this past Super Bowl Sunday, I was struck by a few interesting things. First of all, Mike Tomlin, head coach for the Steelers, plays the song In The Air Tonight for his team as a type of focus exercise the night before really big games. An urban legend I have heard (one a close friend swore to be true) was that Phil Collins wrote that song to express how he felt at having witnessed a man watch a woman drown from the high window of a hotel room. The truth of the myth behind the song is irrelevant to me in this case. I just found it ironic that such a well-known indictment of mysogyny is the pep song for Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger.

The other thing I found interesting is that I actually have a Terrible Towel, complete with trademark stamp and legit lettering. I have had this since I can remember. It was my bath towel as a scamp. My grandmother tells a story of having found a white towel washed up on the shore of Lake Superior near Traverse City in Michigan. The family used to vacation there. Apparently, she took the towel, cleaned it up, and gave it to her son, my uncle to use. Years later, I must have come across it and liked it, and so it was handed down to me. The thing that is weird is that I have looked at all the official sites that describe the history of the Terrible Towel, and none of them indicate that there was ever a white towel with yellow lettering and black outline made. And yet, this is what I have. The concept itself apparently came into existence as a marketing gimmick in 1975, the year I was born. It is possible this was a very early prototype of the current towel, one perhaps not mass-produced, and so mostly forgotten about. Likely, someone used it to sun themselves upon and left it for the waves to soggy up shortly before my grandmother came upon it. I, however, like to imagine that it was tossed into lake Erie after having been carried to the Northwestern corner of Pennsylvania. Perhaps a lover made a wish and cast it out. I like to think it traveled through the great lakes, up Huron, rounding the entire Eastern coast of the lower peninsula until it came to rest near my family's beach spot. I may never know the true story of the towel, and that is a terrible shame.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Shiner Bock. If you haven't had one recently, do so.

Covering Our Tracks...

Just now my wife came upstairs and was suddenly very cold. She had been lying on the couch downstairs, and her hair was a bit tousled. As she does when she is cold, she was shivering a bit and making a fair amount of noise regarding her displeasure of the temperature. My boy cat happened to be near her, and as she wrapped a white bath robe around herself, she started towards him as if she wanted to pet him or pick him up. As she approached, he retreated into the room I was in (where my computer is), to room where the litter 'dome' is located. As she pursued, he backed all the way up to the entrance of the litter dome and almost stepped inside. Although this would not normally be of interest, it was obvious that he did not need to use the litter box, but was simply terrified by her appearance and behavior, and had decided that the poo dome was the one place he could go where she wouldn't come for him. I found this profoundly funny, as did she. Since, she has gone to bed and he is currently using the litter box. Whether or not she scared it out of him remains a mystery. We only have our perceptions in the end. I like to think it was the sight of her hair that did it. I know I pooed a little inside when I saw it.

This has been brought to you under the influence of a heck of a lot of IPA's, including Founders' Double Trouble. Very nice.

Struggling To Find My Inner Cat...

It is fascinating to watch cats clean themselves. They are very methodical, generally focusing in on one particular area (back of the head, right leg, etc.) for what would seem like a really long period of time. I suppose when you are a cat, and have no real concept of time, it would not seem to be long at all. It could be that they just start doing something and it doesn't occur to them to stop until you distract them with a noise like opening a door or printing something in your office. These sudden noises seem to entirely derail them. Then, after appraising the nature of the distraction, they either cease their activity in order to further investigate the situation, or simply return to their former activity unphased. As a person who almost constantly finds himself warring against the clock, rushing to find gaps of time where I can check out and rest a bit, only to begin the struggle anew, I envy the cats ability to be in the moment. I just can't imagine them being terribly concerned about whether the food will be there, when the toy mouse will be thrown across the room, or when the next opportunity to pounce upon their twin and catch them unawares will arise. They just take it as it comes. There is a lesson in there somewhere, but I am exhausted and have to get up early, so I'll leave it alone for now.

The Little Things...

This may not seem like much, but I just figured out that my new day off each week (Thursday) just happens to coincide with the day Publix offers their penny item. Since my weekday off is usually spent doing the laundry, dishes, grocery shopping and other household chores, this adds a considerable amount of incentive to maintain the mundane. The main thing I regret in losing Wednesday as a day off is that Wednesday is the only day Frontera, a 'mex-mex' restaurant near me, only offers their Dos Equis drafts for a dollar. It was a favorite beer brunch of mine. I'll just have to blot out the tears with a penny 4 pack of Publix brand toilet paper while I drink at home. Speaking of, I tried a Breckenridge IPA tonight. Not bad, though not as balanced as I usually prefer. Even with a Hops Gone Wild beer, you've got to have the designated driver/studio chaperone Malt manning the helm. Good effort, though. It's a vast improvement on Coors.

I think you already know what this was brought to you under the influence of...

Riot Like an Egyptian...

I read a little about the protesting going on in Egypt today. Unfortunately, it only described the details of an aggressive stand-off between supporters of the current government and the outspoken advocates of the ousting of the current president. I would rather have gotten some insight as to why they are bloodying each other up, riding camels and waiving machetes. I'm sure they all have good reasons for what they are doing, things like ripping up the street so they can throw chunks of it at each other, pulling down fencing and peeling panels off of walls to use as noise makers and shields. Rioting is always so compelling. Whether it brings about the changes the rioters are seeking or not, it does make for some good news feed. A little shooting, a little looting, somebody gets a plasma bag at a makeshift clinic, somebody else gets a plasma TV from the local electronics depot. It's all drama, and don't we love that? You never see scenes from countries where absolutely nothing is going on featured on the news. Not that you could get people to tune in to that day after day, but every once in awhile it might be nice. Just a shot of somewhere innocuous like Winnipeg or Bern. Maybe focus on a flock of birds wandering through a downtown thoroughfare, track a family wandering about with their cameras. A dog walker comes through. There is playful confusion. No one in injured. Nothing is destroyed. It's peaceful. Show me that, CNN. Describe that in your featured article, Washington Post. That is news. The rest is soap opera drama. Tune in tomorrow to find out if Achmed survives triage. Honestly, I would rather play with my cats than to worry about the problems in a far away land. Perhaps that is selfish or myopic. Probably. But you should really see the way they go after their mouse rattle toys.