Is That How They Do It On Humpback Ridge?

I had a get together at my place last night and one of the things that ended up being discussed was whether it was okay for the best man at your wedding to cry while giving the toast.

My buddy, Horatio, had his best man give an incredibly teary send off at his wedding in the Spring and while it was well recieved, I still cringe when I think about it. My friend, Meersky, of course thought that the toast gave him images of a man sorry that he was about to lose his "Brokeback Mountain (aka Humpback Ridge)" partner.

While I think that it is fine that men cry, I don't agree that a wedding toast is the proper opportunity. Had I been the groom, I think that I would have put my head in my hands in embarrassment.

Of course, the toast was wonderfully received by all of the women and most of the men. I've stood as best man three times now and have never been induced to tears. I always thought that the toast should be sort of a funny review or roast of the groom's past and an acknowledgement of the bride's qualities for putting up with him. Make a few comments regarding how happy your friend is with his new bride and then clink glasses, roll the music and let the reception begin!

Of course, my reaction probably fuels looks of disdain from women who think that the speech was a rare tender moment between men. I say "bah"! No man should ever do that to a man in a public forum. I think it's okay for two men to cry together in private but save the public display of "Humpback Ridge" for the silver screen.

The Question

I had a date yesterday and of course since we've both been married before, eventually you have to share war stories of past relationships.

In the midst of the date, I recalled one of my more amusing anecdotes that I love to tell about my married days. And it goes like this:

One day, after coming home late from my second job and getting my children (2,1 at the time) to sleep, I was sitting on the bed, putting on a pair of sweatpants and waiting for my wife of 7 years (at the time) to come out of the bathroom. I heard the door open and my wife walks in with a very distraught face.

She says, "Bluey, I want to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me."

I'm like, holy fuck, what did I do this time? Her tone seemed to me to be the most grave I ever heard from her.

I said, "Sure honey. What's wrong?"

"I don't know how to ask you this question"

"Just ask me, honey"

And after some hemming and hawing...

"Is your Father in the mafia?" she blurts out sheepishly.

I start to laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!"

As my laughter subsides, I say, "Let me try to understand this...We've been together for ten years. We've had 2 children and have been married for seven years. And NOW, you finally decide to ask if my father is in the mafia?"

Her eyebrows raise, her mouth opens and I continue, "No, my dad is not in the mafia. He works two full time jobs, one hauling garbage for the NYC sanitation department and the other hauling cases of beer for the local distributor. I hardly think he does those jobs as an elaborate cover for any position in the mafia."

She is relieved.

I wonder if I will ever be asked a funnier question in my life.

Okay, I Guess I'm A Bad Parent, A Blowhard And A Hypocrite

But not necessarily in that order.

After my November 17 post railing the notion of buying children expensive Ipod's, what do you think I did? You got it! I went out and got my eldest daughter, Loni, a $100 Ipod shuffle. While I can sit here and try to justify that buying a $100 shuffle is not the same thing as buying her a $300 nano, it is. I'm sure someone who would hurt her for the Nano would probably do the same for her Shuffle.

Hey, I never said that I wasn't a blowhard and I don't always claim to make sense. I guess I just don't love my daughter enough to deprive her of the only Christmas gift she really wanted.

Now excuse me while I get my shovel and start digging a hole for her in the backyard.

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer AKA "The Land Of Sadistic Assbags"

I have been watching this Christmas special ever since I was a small boy. It is my 2nd favorite Christmas special just rated slightly underneath "The Year Without a Santa Claus" (I just can't get enough of the Miser brothers!).

The one thing that I notice with each passing year is how utterly horrible many of the characters are portrayed. Many of the characters have little redeeming quality and the show is filled with some vile and nasty sons of bitches, especially Santa, who is a real douche bag who seems to look down upon everyone working for him, elves and reindeer alike.

Like it's such a chore to sit on his ass, eat like a pig and listen to the elves sing for 364 days!

Donner is a real ass munch too in his drill sargeant role to the young reindeer bucks and is over the top nasty to Rudolph.

But it doesn't stop there. Rudolph's Dad is a real jerkoff too as he continually berates him for his nose. Nothing says, "I love you", like having a father that is embarassed to have you as a son!

Of course Rudolph isn't the only one who has to deal with the bullshit. Hermy's got the Head Elf busting his balls and even the Lion King of Misfit Toy island treats them all like a bunch of lepers. All of these characters make the Abominable Snowman seem like a walk in the park.

Why Rudolph wants to please his Dad, impress Donner, carry toys for Santa and help out the Lion King give away his reject toys is frigging beyond me. If it was me, I'd end the show having Rudy, Hermy and Yukon Cornelius going postal on Christmas town, with Hermy giving Abominable Snowman razor sharp teeth and letting him run loose on the lot of em'.

Especially, the sadisticly stupid elf who throws the misfit bird "who can't fly, he swims!" out of the Santa's flying sled without an umbrella.

I don't know who wrote Rudolph the red-nosed Reindeer. But it was obviously someone with an axe to grind with Santa. I have no idea what the message is supposed to be but what it says to me is that you can only be redeemed by cow towing to a bunch of insufferable assbags.

Gold At $530 An Ounce?

The way the City of Pittsburgh/Allegheny County uses it's road salt, you'd think that road salt futures were selling for $530 an ounce!

Last night, we got our first snow storm of the season and a simple 4-6 inch storm turned into a fiasco because the absence of snow plows/salt trucks. The Parkway West was a graveyard of cars and 18 wheelers due to 3 inches of snow laying on the upgrade to Greentree Road that was unsalted and untouched by a plow.

Returning with my youngest daughter, Kitty, from the Penguin game, we watched cars and trucks helpless to climb the grade and slide off the road. Kitty was in tears from the experience. Needless to say, I returned her home to her mom and spent the night in a hotel because I was hesitant to approach Pittsburgh a second time in one night.

The Washington County roads were fine. The left lane of I79 got a nice scrape and the right lane was salted and was melted down to blacktop in the wheel ruts. Funny how they managed to keep the roads passable.

Which leads me to think that there is some hapless Allegheny County bean counter who sits and tries to conserve every penny at the expense of us taxpayers. How I would have loved to just backhand that guy in the mouth last night. I grew up in NYC and if this ever happened there, someone in public office would have been whacked while he slept.

Salt and plow the goddamn roads already, Allegheny County and City of Pittsburgh. Why do we have to wait until 4 hours into a storm before anyone is sent out? The main arteries should have been pre-salted before the storm and the plows should have already been dispatched, waiting for the snowfall.

You cheap fucking bastards.

One Of Ameica's Great Newspapers? Bah!

I don't remember exactly when it was when the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette started declaring itself one of America's great newspapers. Five...Ten years ago??? Maybe it was when they redesigned their front page years and years ago. All I can be sure of is that from 1992, when I first moved to this wonderful city, to now, the newspaper has done a steady decline in quality. There used to be two newspapers in this city. Back then, I thought the Pittsburgh newspapers rivaled those printed in New York City for story quality. Ever since the evening paper and the Sunday Pittsburgh Press went away, the quality of the Post-Gazette has been waning away. Journalism got lazy without the competition. I actually find the paper to be virtually unreadable now save for a few columnists. The Sports section is a travesty and if the game you're looking for didn't end by 11pm, you can forget about seeing a boxscore. Thank heaven for the internet. It pretty much has made all newspapers an archaic form of getting daily news. But, here in Pittsburgh, this has been the case for at least 5 years due to the drop in quality of the local rag.

I don't really have an interest in bashing the local paper for it's decline but I do take issue with its' self proclamation of being one of America's Great newspapers on it's front page. What exactly does a paper have to do to get such notoriety? Is there some sort of governing body that certifies such a distinction? Is there some sort of jury of peers that bestows that designation? All I know is that the paper is absolutely horrible, is filled with dated AP stories and is filled with the same tired nonsense that hardly evokes any thought provoking discussion. If this is one of America's Great newspapers, then I'm afraid that print news is dead.

It's a real shame that the only paper worth buying in this city is one that is published out of town. And don't get me started on the Tribune Review.

Favorite Quotes: Part 2

"I'd like to stick my dick in her issues!"
My buddy, Irish and I were at PNC Park when some hot young punky chick walks by with her boyfriend. She's got purple and black hair, studs and rings in her ears, eyebrows and nose and a few tattoos. You could tell she has a real pretty face and has a smokin' body. I turned to Irish and said, "Check her out", Irish turns to me and says, "Dude, that chick has got issues!" to which I retorted with my infamous reply.

"Why is it, the only way I can have an orgasm these days, is if I'm choking a dog while someone punches me in the kidney?"
At lunch one day, my buddy Poppinfresh, who is the straightest straight man you'd ever meet and usually not prone to silliness, uttered this sentence imitating the voice of his no nonsense pater familis as a joke. Needless to say, I started crying with laughter and the rest of the luncheon patrons must have been looking at us like we were a bunch of idiots. It took me almost three minutes to stop laughing/crying. I was set off again when Poppinfresh says, "I don't know where that came from".

"This chocolate tastes like dick!"
Uttered by one of my buddies at a long past pilgrimage up north to Lake Erie. This saying never gets old and many foods can be substituted for the chocolate. It never fails to make me laugh.

The Matrix: In Lieu Of The Nursing Home

I was talking to my buddy, Poppinfresh, today and we were discussing a relative who was very old and in poor health. I lamented that it must be hard mentally when you know that your body is failing and you don't have much time left. It's not like you could run around and make the best of your final days. Poppinfresh insisted that he would find something to keep him occupied in old age to which I replied that he'd be the world's oldest gamer cursing his hands for being so darned slow. Then I speculated that he would probably have replacement robotic hands. Then, my mind raced to another idea. Mind/computer interface that would diminish the need for any body parts. And then finally to the idea that when he gets to the point that his body can no longer function adequately, he can just plug himself into the Matrix (assuming his wife isn't around to veto the idea), generate electricity with his worn out body, and let his mind live as a perpetual 18 year old in the Matrix as he finishes out his last years.

With energy prices going through the roof, maybe this is the alternative to ugly wind farms and covering the desert with solar panels.

Think about it. The Matrix is only bad if it's stealing away your productive years. When my body becomes broken, I tell Morpheus to shove the red pill up his ass, take the blue pill, do my civic duty keeping a few street lamps lit while in my mind going back to playing ice hockey and hitting on 21 year old chicks!

The Choking Game

Let's admit it. We all do stupid things when we are kids. God knows I've done enough stupid things to warrant death many times over by jumping insane ramps on my bicycle. Hell, one time I jumped a ramp so big, my steel framed Sears Red, White and Blue Free Spirit broke in two on impact, right down the middle and left me riding the front half of the bike for a few seconds until I wiped out. When I brought the bike home, my dad just about had a coronary. He didn't buy me a new bike, he welded it and left me to repeat the incident once more. Hell, I was an Evel Knievel disciple. My dad then bought me a 10 speed in an effort to stop my insane ramp jumping obsession. I did an end around by beginning to build my own jumping bikes using parts from the neighborhood throwaways. Everytime I saw an old bike out on the curb for garbage pickup, I grabbed it and brought it home. I ended up with 3 or 4 jumping bikes that I could care less if I destroyed.

Now, this past weekend, I saw a news story about kids choking themselves with ropes or choking each other to get "high" and I shake my head. Apparently, the kids are choking themselves unconscious to get that "post-unconscious high". The story parades a host of mothers who lost their kids trying to invoke some sort of sympathy for their children who were just caught up in some "deadly game". I'm sorry, I just won't bite. You got to be pretty fucking stupid or demented to let someone choke you unconscious or even crazier than a shithouse rat to do it to yourself with a hanging noose. These kids deserve to die if they are that damned stupid. And I refuse to feel sorry for any of them. How does someone come up with an idea that they are going to choke themselves to near death to get a high? That is absolutely insane and I can't imagine that these kids aren't just suicidal. Of course their moms insist that they were healthy and happy. Typical parents living in denial. These are the same parents who tell teachers "My kids would never do that!". Maybe if they take a few seconds to plug into their kids lives instead of buying them crap they don't need, they'd have more of a clue. Strangling yourself is not a game, it is a sickness.

When kids get drunk or stoned, the purpose is to have fun with friends, even if it not entirely logical and misguided. What fun do you get when you are unconscious and wake up with an oxygen deprived headache? This is called depression and is a cry for help. This is called a suicide attempt, not a social activity.

Listen, I'm not a heartless bastard altogether. As a parent, I can't imagine the devastation of losing a child. What I take issue with is that parents are looking at this as it is something that kids are doing to have fun and that it is entirely unrelated to their kids' emotional state. They are insisting that as parents, they are powerless to stop it and are washing their hands of the responsibility of their children's deaths. That disgusts me. Kids do stupid things all the time. It is part of growing up. The Choking Game is not something kids do to have fun. It is a suicide attempt even if somewhat veiled under the guise of getting high. These kids need more parental contact and counseling. The Choking Game is not a random event like stepping in front of a bus or a stupid one like jumping a ramp over a construction area, it is mental instability and depression. I jumped ramps because I was happy emulating my hero and it gave me a rush of euphoria. I wanted to be the next Evel Knievel. Was it stupid? Hell, yes! But there is a fundamental difference between the two. Kids playing the Choking Game are only inspiring to die.

It's not a game. It's not an attempt to get high. It's a suicide attempt.

Thanksgiving in NYC

I just returned with my girls from a crazy Thanksgiving in NYC with my family. My sister, Siouxy, had her third son, JT, on Friday to match my three daughters. My mom attempted unsuccessfully (we're getting too wise for her to manipulate us anymore) to start WWIII between all of us siblings by telling my youngest sister, Kreeshka, that the rest of us were criticizing the behavior of her kids in an effort to deflect her own commentary on Kreeshka's children. My daughters and I spent the drives playing Judge Judy where we all took turn being the judge, plaintiff and defendants (I sure wish I had an audio copy of the precedings- "Case is dismissed! ba da da!). The cases all seemed to resolve around my lactose intolerance, which they seem to really get a kick out of (poisoning by milk, cheese, Combos or cheeze-its).

All in all, a fun trip to see my family but it's nice to return to my quiet solitude. I swear my mother is slowly inducing a brain tumor with her incessant talking. I love her to death but God what I would give for a few minutes of silence. The scary thing is that I talk alot. Anyone who knows me can vouch for my non-stop banter. My Mom puts me to shame. My favorite quote (besides "Case dismissed!") for the weekend comes compliments of my three year old niece, Gabagoo, who when asked to go on the potty, looks at the toilet and exclaims "That's disgusting!". We had fun with her and I'm sure much her mom's chagrin, we had her uttering her hallmark quote directed at just about everything. She had me pissing myself.

Lastly, the funniest moments came when me, my mom, my daughters and my brother, Frunkel, were watching a NY1 expose of a dangerous game that teens everywhere are playing called "The Choking Game", where teens choke each other or themselves to go unconscious and get a "high". Apparently another teen or two died recently trying to get high. Of course, this all feeds into my social Darwinism argument that the stupid of society, not only die, but probably deserve to do so.

My daughters had their uncle, Frunkel playing hide and seek all weekend. Every time thay asked him what he wanted to play, he would exclaim, "Let's play the choking game!". My horrified mother would yell at him and we would bust out laughing. It never failed to make me or my daughters laugh.

Favorite Quotes: Part 1

This segment will be a blog series. I will add them as I think of them.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I've been collecting quotes my whole life. There are some quotes that I've been using since I was eleven years old such as:

"What the hell do you think this is?...Coney Island?...I've got to get to work in the morning!"
That phrase was uttered by our town drunk after a few neighborhood kids set off blockbusters in the sewer, waking him up from a night of excess. Of course he slurred the words and I've been laughing about it ever since and still use it constantly to this day. These are some of my favorite quotes to repeat. I have not authored all of these.

"Naked women offend me"
Bluey generated quote continually repeated to absolve me from going to strip clubs with my friends

"You're giving me cancer"
My older sister, Vicki uttered to her eldest son when he was giving her a hard time. This may be an all time favorite. I say it jokingly to my kids and just about everyone else now

"I'm not gay...but aren't unicorns awesome!"
My "adopted" son Pimp-n-Playa, said during a moment of extreme silliness. I think this quote is golden

Okay, that's a start. Stay tuned for more.

Yes...I'm Addicted To Harry Potter!

A lovely 30-something PhD turned me onto the books when "The Goblet of Fire" first came out. I chastized her for reading children's books.

She told me that she was hopelessly addicted to them and gave me "The Sorcerer's Stone" to read. I've been addicted ever since. I wait in line with my girls at midnight for the last two new releases like a crack addict trying to score some "rock". I even bought two copies of "The Half Blood Prince" because my eldest daughter, Loni, was going to the shore with her mother and I didn't want to wait until she got back to read it. I finished the book early Monday morning, a little over 24 hours later.

Of course I saw the new movie on Friday night and at two and a half hours, I thought it was painfully short and missed so many good parts of the book. What else is new. I thought the movie was great, but I felt that it was like putting an LP record at 45 speed. Every scene seemed so rushed. I felt like the movie went by in 45 minutes. Now, I feel like I need another fix. I guess I'll have to talk my girls into seeing it again and give the whole series another read through. I hate to admit how many times I've read the series in the last few years. It's a great time to be a kid. These books are awesome. Now onto re-reading the Narnia series. Man, do I have some serious issues.

I am Bluey and I am an addict.

The Ipod and Social Darwinism

The theory of social Darwinism as I understand it, is that the strong and intelligent have a better chance to survive while the weak and stupid tend to get culled out of the population due to an assortment of life's mishaps. To this point, I say that the Ipod will end up subtracting more than a few children from our ranks due to parental stupidity which hardly seems fair at all.

Two years ago, my eldest daughter, who I'll call Loni, asked for a cellphone at the age of nine.

"Who does a 9 year old need to call?", I inquired.

"My friends, you and mom", she rebutted.

"You can talk to your friends all day at school and me and mom anytime after school", I volleyed back.

"I can use it if there is an emergency", she returned.

Aha! That was the excuse people used for getting cellphones in the first place before they started ringing up $400 monthly bills abusing them. As an adult, I finally relented 3 years ago and replaced my land line when cellphones became cheaper to use then home phones. I told my daughter that the odd emergency wasn't a strong enough reason for me to buy her a cellphone. I told her that my worry was that her use of the cellphone would be more distracting to her and liable to cause more emergencies than it solved. Just looking at adults using cellphones in cars makes me shudder. Kids seem to be in their own world when talking on cellphones to their friends. Of course the cost factor is also a primary issue as well as a child being responsible for a cellphone.

Now two years later, she's asking for an Ipod. A $300 walkman as far as I see it. Now I don't discount that the Ipods are pretty neat and convenient. Take your music wherever you go. But the cost is out of whack for a music player and I won't even buy one for myself.

But the real reason I won't buy one for my daughter is due to Social Darwinism. I have a motto that states, "Never send your kid out into the world with something that they could be killed for". In the past, this included items such as $90 Air Jordans. What parent would send their kid out of the house with $300 in their pocket and a sign on their back that read "Kick Me, and by the way, I have $300 in my pocket, please kill me for it"? That's exactly what you do when you buy a kid an Ipod that they take everywhere with them (which is what they are for, this is not an accessory meant exclusively for home use). When I told Loni that I had no plans on digging a hole in the backyard for her body and that she'd have to go without an Ipod, she was okay with that but still was disappointed.

Three of her friends have Ipods and more are getting them this Christmas. That is truly amazing to me. It's not that I can't afford Ipods for my kids. It just seems so inherently stupid to have them carrying around something worth so much. I remember growing up as a kid and being shaken down by older kids for my baseball cards or wacky packs. Is the world that much of a safer place these days for kids? I guess that's what these parents are banking on.

Call me a pessimist and I'll keep my shovel where it belongs...in a shed.

New York Rangers 6, Pittsburgh Pens 1

Being a NYC native and avid Ranger fan, I took my daughter, Bebis (nickname) to see the hockey game tonight. I'm trying to be a good Pittsburgh father, raising my three daughters to be Penguin fans.

Bebis insisted on a pre-game bet. While it wasn't much of a game, we did get the opportunity to sit for a caricature drawing, which came out awesome and hilarious.

By the way, I won the bet and Bebis will be wearing a Ranger jersey our next trip to the Mellon Arena. Yes...count it!

BS Poker

For my buddies that may have missed the BS Poker festivities at my place, we made up a few more songs to go with Irish Math which was born on Thursday at the Fall 2005 Pilgrimage.

I apologize to outsiders who this will mean nothing to. Just me documenting the idiocy.

(sung to the tune of Gary Numan's "Cars", while doing the robot)

Irish Math (props to Mr. Ocho Rios)
I had two quarters,
then I won one and lost one,
then I won one...
now I'm down three dollars
Irish Math

German Logic (props to Herr Gavo)
I had a flush
It had a three, then a seven,
now it's three jacks
German Logic

Italian Math (props to Don Felatio)
I had two sevens
then I added one more
now I have 3 sevens (while holding up four fingers!)
Italian Math

Can also be sung to the tune of Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me With Science"!

Bluey the Novelist? I Don't Think So...

Twice a year, me and up to about 20 or so buddies go up north to the shores of Lake Erie in NY to unwind, play some sports and generally act like a bunch of idiots for 3 days. My buddy, Irish hosts the event and the two of us do our best to promote it every year to ensure maximum attendance.

The emails that promote the event are usually original and extremely bizarre.

Here is this fall's latest entry sent as an open email:

And as I walked naked down the peninsula, my toes found the warm white sand that reminded me of the playdoh I used to wring my hands through and the lead-based paint chips I loved to eat. My speedo thong, visually eclipsed by the rolls of fat supported by my appetite for General Tso's chicken and zebra cakes, found my warm crevices and barely covered the manhood I haven't had the opportunity to see in years. The sun, glistening tempestuously off the beads of sweat generated by my thirty foot journey from Leviathan, warmed me to the core evoking memories of sleeping next to the clothes dryer as a child and spanking off in my parent's food pantry. For the pilgrimage was only a day away, and soon, people that I barely tolerate and some that I downright despise, will flood into this beautiful village spoiling everything that is good like a hoard of maggots digesting a gassy and engorged plague filled rat's spleen. God, I hated those fuckers....

For more, read the Viking Paperback "Where Fun Goes to Die" by exciting new novelist Bluey!

Believe it or not. We had one hell of a turnout this year.

I Hope Not...I'm Dating Your Daughter!

My name is Rich and when I was in graduate school a few years back, there was a kind and wise professor who always took the time to give me advice and guide my progress as a student. He really fit the mold of the proto-typical sweet old man. He always made time for his students and he always had a word of encouragement when you ran into him in the halls.

One day in particular, we were talking about my schedule for the upcoming term, and he was counseling me on the various class offerings. At the time I was dating his daughter, who was also a graduate student in the department.

Out of nowhere (and highly unexpected to me) he asks me "Do you prefer Dick?"

I damn well had to bite my tongue to keep from crying. It took me a split second to realize he was talking about my name and I was barely able to keep myself composed until I walked away and then just about pissed myself laughing in the bathroom.

To this day I wish I could have blurted out the first thing that came to my mind...

"I hope not, I'm dating your daughter!"

We All Live In A Capital I...It's All About The "O"!

I don't know about many of you but when I was a kid in the early 70's, I grew up on Sesame Street and watched it religiously for quite a few years. I'm sure everyone can remember a favorite skit or song no matter what age you are. Many of us watched decades apart as new parents. I did a second tour of duty with my daughters.

One of my favorite cartoons of the series was brought to us by the letter "I". It involved an assortment of little guys that lived in a structure that was a capital letter I. I don't know why I was so attracted to this particular little tune but it had such a catchy little tune and very simple lyrics. I always looked forward to the repeat broadcasts involving the letter I because they always played it. It was my favorite.

Years later I watched Sesame Street again with my daughters and was shocked and dismayed that they had retired the capital I cartoon. I was very disappointed but figured, hey, time moves on. In with the new and out with the old, right?

It wasn't until a few years later when I was playing poker with buddies, that I was able to formulate a theory for its' ommission. Some of my buddies remembered it, some did not. For those who remembered it, they recalled it with the same fondness that I shared. But still, it crept in my mind and festered as I searched for an adequate reason why it was dropped.

It was during my explanation of the skit to my friends that had never seen it, did the reason dawn on me. Then it hit me like a freight train. The skit involves a bunch of little guys living together in a huge capital I in the middle of a desert. All these guys seem to do all day is to clean and polish the I and seemed so ecstatic to do so relentlessly day in and day out. When I started singing the song for my friends, the meaning became crystal clear.

I present the lyrics as exhibit A:

We all live in a capital I
In the middle of the desert
In the center of the sky.
All day long we polish up the I
To make it clean and shiny
So it brightens up the sky.
Rubbing it here
And scrubbing it there.
Polishing the I
So high in the air.

And as we work we sing a lively tune
"It is great to be so happy on a busy afternoon."
And when we're through with the day's only chore,
We go into the I
And we close the door.
Capital I, capital I,
capital I, capital I.

Here is a link to hear the song: http://members.tripod.com/Tiny_Dancer/capital1.mp3

The stanza that clearly stood out as I sang it as an adult was the "rubbing it here, scrubbing it there, polishing the I, so high in the air".

Oh my God! The song is promoting masturbation to young boys!

Now that I see it, I cannot unsee it. As I researched the matter, it became very apparent to me that the Sesame Street folks were very careful putting messages in all of their songs to promote social growth, racial harmony, etc.. Every skit seemingly under the surface had some broad message even if it was not outwardly apparent to children such as the fact that all of the muppets were different colors to instill an understanding of differences in all people and to accept them all (even the grouch).

But I am convinced that this particular cartoon was an inside job and that the writers slipped one past the Sesame Street censors. This cartoon is about guys spending countless hours rubbing an polishing the ultimate phallic symbol...a capital I! And they are even wearing raincoats! In the middle of a goddamn desert!

I think the writers probably made this skit as a joke, thinking it would never get past the decision makers...but it did! And it played for a long time as I recall.

When it was officially pulled from rotation, and the reasons why, are unknown to me. I have never been able to find any stories regarding complaints or an explanation for its' retirement.

But to this day, I get a chuckle out of Sesame Street's pro-masturbation anthem and thank the writers for promoting such a healthy activity for young boys. Some of my friends think I'm nuts, but a few are convinced that I may just be on to something.

For Sesame Street sponsored by the letter I, it was indeed "all about the O"!

Can Someone Tell Me If I Won?

For the last few months, I've been wondering aloud why anyone buys $10 and $20 scratch off lottery tickets. It seems awfully pricey to me.

The people I see with these lottery tickets always seem to be those who look like they're on a fixed income. Admittedly, I don't play the lottery at all but I can understand that guy in the convenience store who uses his buck or two in change to buy a scratch off ticket or a powerball ticket.

But 10-20 bucks for one scratch off ticket? And they come in vending machines now. I can only guess that the reason for it is that anyone with an ounce of good sense should be embarrassed to pay that amount for a scratch off ticket to a real person. Kind of like asking the lady at the pharmacy counter for condoms. But that's not the kicker.

Today as I walked by the vending machine in the place I get lunch, I noticed that the vending machine had braille on it.

Braille??? Are you kidding me? I'm just trying to picture or understand the scenario in which a blind person walks up to the vending machine, plops a twenty in the machine and proceeds to scratch off the ticket.

How in God's name do they know if they won or not? The tickets don't seem to have braille on them. Now, I'm sure that some feel good legislator had something to do with this.

Only in America do we go to extra lengths to ensure that the blind have an equal opportunity of throwing their money away.

Something Important To Say...All The Time!!!

Now, my friends will probably tell you that I tend to be on the verbose side. I seem to have a story, opinion or theory on just about any topic under the sun. I think the medical term for this is...self-absorbed.

I like to delude myself and not admit it but I guess it is true to a certain extent. I'm not the type of person who goes looking for the insanity of life, believe me. It just seems to gravitate to me.

Blessed with an analytical mind, I like to think that I process things differently than many other people and thus the multitude of wacky and irreverent interpretations of everyday life.

Anyway, to save my friends some grief, and to save their eardrums, I figured that this new blog would serve as a good outlet for my thoughts. Also, I figured that it was about time that I documented some of the more interesting and funny theories and ideas that pop into my head.
Being 39, I tend to forget alot more than I remember.

So, bear with me. I can be very tongue-in-cheek. Some of the posts will just be downright silly, with no redeeming quality. If you are easily offended, I suggest you read somebody else's thoughts. Mine aren't always G-rated.

My life is pretty awesome and I have a great network of friends and family. I dedicate this blog to them. I don't know how they put up with me.