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At the end of the “Blue Collar Comedy Tour”, Jeff, Larry, Ron, and Bill play a sort of game.  They each say something that they believe.

Given who they are it’s usually *REALLY* funny.   My favorite is one from Jeff Foxworthy (used, as usual, without permission)

“I believe that when someone jumps in front of you on the freeway and they don’t give you that little one-handed wave in the rearview-mirror, that it should be legal for you to get up under ‘em, break ‘em free, and put ‘em into the wall.”

I decided today that I would write down the things I believe.  Not that anyone cares.

I believe that we we spend too much money trying to make tobacco safer.  I believe that instead we should be making it MORE dangerous.  Hell I think one cigarette out of ever pack should be rendered absolutely lethal.  This introduces an element of fun into smoking, every pack comes with a free game of russian roulette.

I believe that anyone willing to die for god should be given the opportunity to do so.  Immediately, without hesitation.  I’m sure that the nutcases willing to kill in the name of god will be willing to volunteer for the job.

I believe that anyone who actually wants the job of President of the United States (or any country really) should be immediately and irrevocably barred from holding the position.  The job itself holds too much temptation for the power-hungry.

I believe that anyone not willing to pay the taxes required to support their community should be allowed to opt out.  I believe the next time the fire-department is summoned to their home that alternate payment should be made in advance.  No checks, cash only please.

I believe that the difference between a “protest” and a “revolution” is merely committment and a matter of scale.  If the riot police are enough to turn you away, then you really didn’t want it enough anyway.

I believe that anyone who thinks sex is “bad” or “immoral” or “indecent” should immediately be banned from having any.  Ever.

I’ll continue this later..  I believe my lunch is here. 

Oh, and I believe that Michael Jackson gave up any claim to “greatness” the first time he paid $20+ Million to keep the family of a child quiet.

When we first moved to Virginia one of the things we had to do was to get Disorder settled in the local cubscout pack.

So we find the next even and just show up – The annual “Night Hike”.

So I track down the leader of the Den that would be taking Andrew in, a gentleman who has been one of my best friends since that day, and is the godfather of our youngest.

When I approach him and tell him that we’ve got a son coming from a Cub pack in California and we’re looking to get him involved as soon as possible, he replies simply: “Dude, I’ve already got 13 kids in my den, I don’t think I can take any more without some help.”

My response, simply, (and the stuff that ledgends are made of):

“No problem – you can have my wife.”

So my buddy goes around telling everyone for weeks, anyone who will listen, how this guy came up to him during the night-hike in 2003 and gave away his wife.  (Our families have since become so close that it’s not uncommon for him to announce himself as her ‘other husband.’ – and his daughter has left for almost every prom/formal dance from our house.)

My wife has been very active in scouting ever since, and now she is the den leader for Panic’s den.  (I’m sure the result of failing to duck when they were asking for volunteers)

Because you see, they own her, and they have me to thank for it.

My wife brought this to my attention, and while I’m posting a link to the PDF, I’ll translate it here for you:

ToTheCarStore

“To Some Family:

Please take good care of our station-wagon.

From: Aidan”

What makes this so special is that Aidan – who I usually refer to as “Panic” spent the time to write this note down and is insisting  that we leave it in the glove-compartment for the new family.

It almost makes your heart break.  Panic doesn’t do well with change – so to have him gracefully saying good by to our Chrysler Pacifica and Hello to our Chevy tahoe is an amazing thing.

Having him do it without crying is a better thing.

And having him do it in a way that makes *US* cry is priceless..

Well Father’s day has kind of come and gone for me and I thought I would take this opportunity to explain why fathers day is kind of a fucked up day for me.

I’m proud of being a father.  I’m forever excited that I made the opportunity to become a father, though as my wife will tell you given half the chance, I wasn’t sure for the longest time I wanted marriage, let alone kids.

A few words about my dad…  Bastard comes to mind, son of a bitch too (though I’ve never met his mom, I’m sure that’s accurate).  Asshole is the one most commonly associated with him.

He was a pretty lousy excuse for a human being.  Rumors in the family are rampant that he was a black-marketeer during his time as “Chief Storekeeper” in the US Navy (through the Korean War and Viet Nam), which *TOTALLY* makes sense given his personality.  All he ever cared about was making money.  Kids were ever the afterthought…  Even mom said (in a moment of drunken lucidity at his wake) that the only reason she was able to have kids was that she committed a series of rapes…

Anyway, the life lessons my father taught me:

1. If you have a problem throw money at it and it will go away.

This was also how he viewed parenting, and why my young adulthood was so fucked up.  When I was annoying I’d get grounded, when I’d get more annoying I’d get given $20 and told to go see a movie.  Grand lesson I learned is that there were benefits to misbehaving…

2. Let your kids learn their lessons only if it doesn’t embarrass you.

When I was 13 I committed what would have amounted to my first felony had it not been on a military installation..  So when other delinquents had the local Police dragging their sorry butts home, I had Naval Intelligence on my back.  To this day I’m still not sure what happened but I know that it just went away.  (My dad was *really* good at bypassing laws when it suited him)  I never spent one day in any kind of real hot water and therefore never learned anything.  Same thing happened later when I stole my first car.  See where this is going?

3. Nothing is as important as peace and quiet.

See point #1.  All I had to do was turn the radio up (blasting “Suicidal Tendencies” or something equally obnoxious) and I’d get handed money and sometimes even given a ride into town.

4. Children are a burden.

Well this kind of explains why I was so hesitant to have my own.  I was forever being told how much trouble I was and most importantly (in his mind) how expensive it was to raise children…

Now – as for me.  My rules are much simpler:

1. Love them.

Undying, unwavering love for my kids is the absolute minimum I will give.  Even when I’m exhausted, and even when they (and by they I mean my eldest usually) are being annoying cusses.  I love them.

2. Help them to push their limitations.

I’ve said a number of times, I have three kids.  Disorder, the oldest is probably undiagnosed Aspbergers given his difficulty fitting into what I losely term ‘normal’.  If he is, then I definitely was, as I had the same issues growing up.  Gently prodding him to engage in social situations to ensure he has the hang of it before he’s on his own.  Panic is the same way.  He’s seven now, and is constantly amazing me as ‘the little autistic kid who can..’   He’s trying new things, started actually SWIMMING this week…and for a kid who used to scream bloody murder when being put in a bathtub, that’s HUGE.

And Chaos.  My dearest chaos..  Not sure where he is on the spectrum, but I’m sure it will show up eventually.  We just keep teaching how to cope with being the youngest.

3. Expect more, and help them to want more.

Sometimes I think I know what my kids are capable of, more than they do.  It’s my job to show them what they can *REALLY* do, and to help teach them to aspire to more than they are.  This “I Don’t Care” attitude that I see coming out of kids these days kills me, because I know that that’s going to translate into a rough young-adulthood later on…

So happy belated fathers’ day to all the dads out there.

Tonight I sent this tweet – and I’ll explain.

It’s now 10pm and I’m just sitting down to dinner.

My dinner is consisting of:

2x PB&J Sandwiches.

2x Smirnoff Ice coolers.

Now let me explain why.  Across the room on the loveseat sits my beloved 4-year-old-who-I’m-seriously-considering-selling-to-the-gypsies-since-walmart-won’t-take-him-back-thanks-to-my-having-lost-the-receipt…

It’s 10pm.  We went through the bedtime routine, had our milk, gotten into our Buzz Lightyear jammies, had a dose of Triaminic Nighttime (snarfy nose) read two books (Rockets and Jet Planes from a kids box-set)

When I said “It’s time to go to sleep” he ran out of his room, slammed the door in my face, and sprinted down-stairs like there was no tomorrow.

So my son, whom I love dearly, excels at two things.

* He reminds me how wonderful my wife is.  She manages to deal with this when I’m not around, why can’t I manage?

* He reminds me why I’m the one working for our living.  Because if *I* were the one home with him, it would all end with a small mushroom cloud and me sitting on the curb rocking back and forth….

#justsayin….

Sarah Palin can kiss my ass.

Seriously…though someone might want to warn her that as she leans in I can turn around really fast…

So David Letterman made a joke.  Funny that, he’s a comedian.  He makes jokes.  Usually at the expense of celebrities.  I’d like to know what the Palin’s think they are if not celebrities at this point?  Including their kids, who there were *REALLY* quick to trot out on stage in the middle of the fucking night irregardless of their health and sanity…

I’m sorry Sarah – you opened the door when you introduced them to the world.  You led your little white-trash family out into the open and you have no business being shocked when people take shots at them.

Come on – it’s so easy.  The whole lot of them fit right into my idea of the brand of trailer-trash you are.  Of course, I’m still waiting for Jerry Springer to come out and announce that that fucking bone-head-almost-son-in-law you’ve got was actually sleeping with Mom, Daughter *AND* the family fucking goat. (Todd)

So Todd, Sarah, (& co.)  Give it up.  You are a joke, and you have nothing and no-one to blame but yourselves when people like David Letterman point that out to people.

6x Dell 1850 Servers - $8,000, One two-post Rack - $500. One Furniture Moving Strap from home-depot - $5.99 - Earthquakeproofing your server rack - Priceless.

Just Sayin……

…and yup, deeper in debt.

This has been an interesting year.  So much so that I don’t even know where to start.  So I’ll break my hard and fast rule and post bullet-points:

My accomplishments for the 2008-2009 model year:

Down-Notes:

• Watching the banks melt down.
• Watching my own personal finances melt down.
• Blaming the former for the latter.
• Being told by a bankrupt car company that *MY* credit isn’t good enough.

Up-Notes:

• Seeing Panic start Kindergarten and excel into it like Autism was just another word.
• Seeing Chaos make his first “letters-to-reading” connection.  (”Mom!  Spongebob starts with “S” right?”)
• Seeing Disorder’s soccer team make the playoffs.
• New job started in February.  I love consulting in a dysfunctional environment.  It’s at least a secure position. (knock-on-wood – the only real wood in this house I think)

So this is the time of year (and the year of life) where you start looking back on your left and trying to figure out what you’ve done and where you’re going.

At 39 you can safely say you’ve almost got as many years behind you as you do ahead of you.  You are supposed to have learned enough to manipulate your future, (I can’t) to control the way it’s going to turn out, (I haven’t) and to plan for the future. (I’m not)

At 39 you should be looking forward to retirement.  Retirement is something I can’t even begin to conceptualize, true relaxation being such an alien concept.

At 39 I’m rebuilding.  I can’t even tell you how it started, but I can tell you my situation has been set back 10 years by the current financial situation.

But I have more than I did 10 years ago, so it’s still forward progress right?  I have three wonderful kids, a wife I love more today than I have since the day we met (1983 folks.)  I have a home, I have a job that (again, knock on wood) isn’t going away any time soon, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I’m finding I have my health…

And I have to get things back on track.  This is the year to do it I guess.   It’s T minus 5 years and counting until the first one hits college.

I ain’t getting any younger.

I’m having kind of a bi-polar day….

The annoying part about being bi-polar and being smart enough to know it, is that you can see it coming, but you can’t do a damned thing about it.

Today was one of those days. I’ve felt off for most of the day not quite there, willing to do stupid things like telling a customer “I don’t give a fuck” when asked to do something incorrectly…

The day sort of went downhill from there. Two hour commute home, 30 minutes of forced “playtime” with the kids, then off to Volleyball.

Volleyball has been my outlet of late – a place to vent my frustrations, to hang out with people who enjoy a good semi-casual game.

Well tonight volleyball sucked.  My game was off, people were pissing me off.  (OK, people were pissing me off more than people usually piss me off)

So I come back, have a few drinks, watch some TV, and blog for a bit, because I’m hoping that it gets better from here.

It won’t.  Tomorrow is going to suck too – and what makes it worse is the realization that there isnt a damned thing i can do about it.

And tomorrow is date night….   #FAIL

It started out innocently. Mom and Dad, conspiring against our youngest.

“Do you think it’s time?”

“It’s PAST time hon, he needs to go to pre-school in 3 months (read Mommy needs him to go to pre-school in 3 months) and we can’t send him if he’s still in Pull-Ups”

“Ok, we won’t buy any more daytime pullups then.”

And the commitment was made. We’re doing forced potty training.

And this is the part where the water / laundry / carpet cleaning bill goes through the roof, right?

Uh huh….