Misawa's Musings

Letter to my Son: Baby Steps

2009-06-23T15:03:00.001-04:00

Dear son,

A few weeks ago now, I saw you do one of the most incredible things of your young life to date. You'd been pulling yourself up on everything you could crawl to, but hadn't quite taken that first step without holding on to something. On this day, however, you saw the Ring of Much Tastiness taunting you on the piano bench, which was in between you and the Box of Buttons and Moving Pictures. I watched as you wrinkled that face of yours, knowing that one of two possible scenarios was about to occur - you were about to take your first step, or you were making a large deposit in your diaper.

And then, you let go of the chair, crossed one ham over the other, and planted your foot on the ground, still not holding anything. Three things were learned that day: 1) you could let go and move someplace else - more exploring! and 2) Daddy could win the Olympic high jump from the seated position (what can I say? I've got a strong butt).

Oh, and the 3rd thing? That sometimes, even when everything is going wonderfully right, things go suddenly go horribly wrong. Your crossover step was magnificent, but what you didn't account for was the awkward position it left you in. No more than a half a second after you took that one step, you tried to take another to catch your balance... and face planted on a toy.

Through all the tears though, it wasn't lost on me that you had still taken your first steps... and done it without mommy. For weeks I tried to goad you in to doing it again, setting up simplistic scenarios ("Look! No toys on the floor!") hoping - praying - that I could call for mommy and she would see you wobble like an orangutan leaving the pub. You just weren't having any of it.

Until last night. You were doing your usual routine of walking all the way around the room holding everything you could get your paws on until you came to me. With mommy standing in the middle of the room, I led you with one hand part of the way out in to the room.

And let go.

You didn't hesitate for an instant. With one big step, you walked to your mommy. You giggled; mommy cried; daddy breathed one big sigh of relief.

You'll take other big steps in your lifetime - in to a pool, on a baseball field, graduation, etc. There will only be one that will be any bigger than this moment you just shared with us - the day you walk down the aisle of the church to give your life to Christ. There will be many so called baby steps to that point - Sunday School, Big church, VBS, praying each night. But that one first step out in to the aisle... that's the big one. There's more to that step than just movement. It's a sign to everybody that you are choosing to live your life for the One who gave His for all of us. And that's the step we'll be waiting on.

Loves my Pork Chop,
Daddy

As the idiot walks

2009-03-31T21:34:00.003-04:00

So there I was (because that's how all good redneck-in-peril stories begin... and yes, this is almost a redneck-in-peril story). Sitting in my hotel room in grand ol' Baltimore, looking down upon the city from almost top of the Tremont Plaza. It was 5 o'clock, and the streets were more backed up than the line at the beer stand for a Baptist picnic. What's a pudgy, suburban house-dad to do?

Donning my trusty Cabela's parka and SPSU sock hat, I hit by the "attractions" kiosk in the lobby to figure out where to head. I figure, can't go wrong with the Inner Harbor, center of most things civilized (read: it has a Barnes and Noble and a Starbucks). Now, gentle reader, do note that there is a... err, note on this machine that clearly states "walking directions." This is where things start to get interesting.

I head out the door and start to follow the printout, taking note of the various sites I see. I left, right, left to Baltimore St, then South St... and then I notice them. Trucks. Lots of them. Big ones, too.

Loaded in the back of the first truck: SWAT vests, body armor, boots. All marked Baltimore PD. Cool, I think; I'm in the safest part of the city right now.

More truck stuff, including lights - BIG lights. Like Batman without the symbol. I sneak a peek to my right as I approach an intersection - completely blocked off by one of the jerks with the trucks - and see a wall of cars one behind the other. But.. it's quiet. My eyes drift up and just as I see the camera...

"Quiet on the set!" Ohhhh did things get quiet - even the crickets were quiet.
"Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah take 32! Click!"
"Action!"

Pandemonium. Horns blaring. People come out of nowhere walking the roped off street block that I just wandered in to!!! I'm on a movie set, folks!

Only the camera wasn't even close to pointing at me. Oh, well.

But, it's for the children!

2009-03-02T17:06:00.002-05:00

A Garland, TX mom is the latest victim of PSH - that's pants-pooping-hysteria - when her precious little one brought home a coloring book from the NRA's Eddie Eagle program that contained - now brace yourselves - pictures with guns. Oh, the horror!

"Not only do I think it's inappropriate to provide this information to my 5-year-old, but this is a program published by the NRA," said Nicola Howe, Samone's mother.

The coloring book includes illustrations of handguns and rifles.

"Having pictures of guns that children color in I think is sending the wrong message," said Howe.

The book is called Gun Safety with Eddie Eagle and it's published by the NRA. It's part of the Garland Independent School District's Health and Safety Curriculum.

"If a student comes across a weapon, they're supposed to stop, don't touch the weapon and then run away and tell an adult. Those are the parts that are taught," said Reavis Wortham with Garland I.S.D.

Howe doesn't see it as deterrent. She believes it only encourages curiosity.

"At 5 years old, anytime you tell a child not to touch something, that's exactly what they do. It's in their nature to be curious and to touch and handle things," said Howe.

Samone attends kindergarten at Sewell Elementary School. Not only did she get a coloring book, but her class also watched a video featuring Eddie Eagle.

"Gun ownership, control and safety are hot topics as well. It just simply has no place in our school systems," said Howe.

Yes, Mrs. Howe - a 5 year old is naturally curious. For that matter, so is a 10 year old, 15 year old, and... well a 35 year old. And there are other things far more instantaneously dangerous to the touch than an evil, vile gun. Do you also scoff at coloring books with pictures of bathtubs or swimming pools, the second leading cause of unintentional child deaths in 2003? For that matter, I sincerely hope you keep your precious little one away from cars, which kill more kids each year than anything else man could devise.

Oh, that's right - swimming pools and mommy's Caddy aren't "hot topics."

The Topless Coffee Cafe

2009-02-25T17:45:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry. No, I mean it. I'm reeeaaalllly sorry. I've tried to ignore this. I honestly have. I've even tried to ignore my blog. Alas, to no avail. Comments on:

Cup size (heh-heh, heh-heh...) has more than one meaning at a new central Maine coffeehouse. Servers are topless at the Grand View Topless Coffee Shop (and what a grand view it is), which opened its doors Monday on a busy road in Vassalboro (busy road you say? Must have something eye-catching on that street). A sign outside says, "Over 18 only." Another says, "No cameras, no touching, cash only." (where's the fun in that?)

On Tuesday, two men sipped coffee at a booth while three topless waitresses and a bare-chested waiter (that there's just false advertising) stood nearby. Topless waitress Susie Wiley said men, women (with men) and couples (of men) have stopped by.

The coffee shop raised the ire of dozens of residents when it went before the town planning board last month (perhaps the only way to properly combat this is bottomless?). Town officials said the coffee shop met the letter of the law (which letter? B? C? DD?).

Lord I apologize. Bless all the pygmies down in New Guinea.

Do the right thing

2009-02-24T20:06:00.002-05:00

Tissue warning:

The coach never considered any other option.

It didn't matter that his DeKalb, Ill., High School basketball team had ridden a bus two and a half hours to get to Milwaukee, then waited another hour past game time to play. Didn't matter that the game was close, or that this was a chance to beat a big city team.

Something else was on Dave Rohlman's mind when he asked for a volunteer to shoot two free throws awarded his team on a technical foul in the second quarter. His senior captain raised his hand, ready to go to the line as he had many times before.

Only this time it was different.

"You realize you're going to miss them, don't you?" Rohlman said.

Darius McNeal nodded his head. He understood what had to be done.

Hours earlier, the mother of Milwaukee Madison senior captain Johntel Franklin died at a local hospital. Carlitha Franklin had been in remission after a five-year fight with cervical cancer, but she began to hemorrhage that morning while Johntel was taking his college ACT exam.

Her son and several of his teammates were at the hospital late that afternoon when the decision was made to turn off the life-support system. Carlitha Franklin was just 39.

"She was young and they were real close," said Milwaukee coach Aaron Womack Jr., who was at the hospital. "He was very distraught and it happened so suddenly he didn't have time to grieve."

Womack was going to cancel the game, but Franklin told him he wanted the team to play. And play they did, even though the game started late and Milwaukee Madison dressed only eight players.

Early in the second quarter, Womack saw someone out of the corner of his eye. It was Franklin, who came there directly from the hospital to root his teammates on.

The Knights had possession, so Womack called a time out. His players went over and hugged their grieving teammate. Fans came out of the stands to do the same.

"We got back to playing the game and I asked if he wanted to come and sit on the bench," Womack said during a telephone interview.

"No," Franklin replied. "I want to play."

There was just one problem. Since Franklin wasn't on the pre-game roster, putting him in meant drawing a technical foul that would give DeKalb two free throws.

Though it was a tight game, Womack was willing to give up the two points. It was more important to help his senior guard and co-captain deal with his grief by playing.

Over on the other bench, though, Rohlman wasn't so willing to take them. He told the referees to forget the technical and just let Franklin play.

"I could hear them arguing for five to seven minutes, saying, `We're not taking it, we're not taking it," Womack said. "The refs told them, no, that's the rule. You have to take them."

That's when Rohlman asked for volunteers, and McNeal's hand went up.

He went alone to the free throw line, dribbled the ball a couple of times, and looked at the rim.

His first attempt went about two feet, bouncing a couple of times as it rolled toward the end line. The second barely left his hand.

It didn't take long for the Milwaukee players to figure out what was going on.

They stood and turned toward the DeKalb bench and started applauding the gesture of sportsmanship. Soon, so did everybody in the stands.

"I did it for the guy who lost his mom," McNeal told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "It was the right thing to do."

Story

Women Drivers

2009-02-11T16:23:00.002-05:00

Note: the author of this blog is not saying anything. Neither am I implying anything. I just let the video stand on it's own.

Now batting... Lil' MD

2008-12-31T21:52:00.004-05:00

“You’ve created a monster – you know that, right?” (El Opinionated Woodbutcher, aka my brother-in-law)

Many years ago, my darling little wifey-pooh was the quintessential Southern Belle - always prim and proper, never a cross word, and definitely not a confrontational person in the least. Three years of ~~chasing~~ dating, a year of ~~enslavement~~ engagement, and nearly ten years of ~~yardwork~~ marriage have changed a girl. She’ll throw down with Hulk Hogan or Doc Holiday if they get cross with her. Or another person telling her something ‘bout her child.

Time to unleash the beast.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Making her blogging debut, the Sultan of Spit-up, the Duchess of Diapers, the Princess of Poo... the one and only – as far as she knows – Mrs. Misawa herself, Lil’ MD...

Being a new mommy has changed my world inside and out for the best and I am still in awe that God has blessed us with this journey. Every day is a new adventure and I love experiencing life again through the eyes of my child.

That said, I have a particular problem with people - whether they are a part of the parenthood or not - that know a better way to raise your child and decide that you need to know it.

Since our little 8-month old “Pork Chop” - as Misawa has nicknamed him. I prefer “Baby Bear”, or “Love Bug” but I can understand why he would need a masculine nickname from Daddy - was born back in April I have noticed that not only do people like to give you advice while you’re pregnant but boy does Pandora’s box open when the child actually arrives. Here are some of the comments I’ve received:
You know what they say about babies that skip crawling don’t you? They become developmentally delayed.
As my hubby would say – bullbutter. This scenario came about because Pork Chop has recently shown an interest in walking but not in crawling. There are plenty of children that have developed just fine by skipping the crawling phase. Most pediatricians don’t even consider it a developmental milestone anymore. In fact, most studies conclude that kids crawl later nowadays due to the Back-to-sleep campaign – more time spent on the back equals... well figure it out for yourself. If my boy is not interested in crawling and just wants to chase the cat by rolling after him, so be it. I think it shows creative problem-solving skills.
I should write you a manual on how to raise a child.
This statement has come to me several times from a dear friend of mine. I love her but I think its time to say enough is enough. Just because you have more children doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. I may have never been a mommy before Pork Chop, but I am now and know my baby more than anyone else. Here’s the ironic part... that same friend told me later she wished her two children were as laid back as mine. How ‘bout them apples?
I don’t see how putting your infant in front of the TV before going to bed will make any difference on how he sleeps. It wasn’t a problem for my children.
When Pork Chop was around 3 months old, Misawa and I didn’t want him watching TV after 5pm because it stimulated him and kept him from sleeping at night. We had someone tell us that idea was crazy and that TV was never an issue for her children. My answer is – GREAT – I’m glad it didn’t bother your children but it does mine. Now that same person is amazed that we can put Pork Chop to bed at 7pm and he’ll sleep until 7am (most of the time).
In summary, I just wanted to share my thoughts on people sharing their opinions that ought not to. Just because I raise my child differently doesn’t mean its wrong. Every baby is different. Even if you do know more be sensitive and understand that your way may not be the only way. Also, if you refer to "they" when giving advice but don’t remember all the facts, don’t mention it at all unless you can back it up. New moms [and dads] have enough worries to deal with.

Misawa and I have another name for parenthood: crisis management. Parenting isn’t easy but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Thanks for listening. Have a blessed and Happy New Year!
Lil’ MD

Change? Really?!

2008-12-26T08:27:00.002-05:00

John Stossel with a dead-on assessment of our new President's ideas for "changing" our economy:

So they will "transform our economy." Obama's nearly trillion-dollar plan will not merely repair bridges, fill potholes and fix up schools; it will also impose a Utopian vision based on the belief that an economy is a thing to be planned from above. But this is an arrogant conceit. No one can possibly know enough to redesign something as complex as "an economy," which really is people engaging in exchanges to achieve their goals. Planning it means planning them.

Read the rest of Arrogant Conceit here.

100 things

2008-12-13T10:27:00.003-05:00

Generally, I don't care for these, but... oh, what the hay!

1. Started your own blog. Uhh, duh?
2. Slept under the stars. Thank you RA camp.
3. Played in a band. Bass, backup guitar, the 88's, and some vocals.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower. Still do this anytime I can.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to Disneyland.
8. Climbed a mountain. Does climbing out of Talulah Gorge count?
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo. More times than I probably should.
11. Bungee jumped. No, but this is so on my bucket list.
12. Visited Paris. No - and my gosh why???
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch. I'm an origami swami.
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitch hiked. Thanks to a guy that got us stuck in the mud while finding a fishing hole.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort. Thank you blizzard of 93.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping. With my natural furry g-string? Heck no!
27. Run a Marathon.
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse. Elementary school.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run. If inside the park counts, then yes. No over the fence homers - yet.
32. Been on a cruise. If you answer yes to this and no to 30, something's wrong with you.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. Most of them, actually.
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock (wall) climbing.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David.
41. Sung karaoke. And given all my musical training and abilities, how did I do? Lousy.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight. Oh yeah...
46. Been transported in an ambulance. Rode with my grandmother.
47. Had your portrait painted / drawn. Do the caricatures at Six Flags count?
48. Gone deep sea fishing. I don't think 10 ft off the coast of Steinhatchee counts.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling. Bahamas and Grand Cayman island.
52. Kissed in the rain. Drug the wife outside during a real frog-strangler. Darned near turned in to skinny-dipping...
53. Played in the mud. Uhh, duh? I'm a boy!
54. Gone to a drive-in theater. Actually watched the movie... and fogged up the windows!
55. Been in a movie. Had a real chance at this one. Our high school band was invited to be in a movie set the 60s... which meant we would have had to separate in to white and colored bands. Decided it just wasn't worth it.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China. I'm guessing Google Earth doesn't count.
57. Started a business. Working on this one...
58. Taken a martial arts class. Aikido.
59. Visited Russia. Really - no Google Earth love?
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies. I can't believe I've done this. Sister was a Girl Scout.
62. Gone whale watching. There's a cruel joke in here somewhere about an ex-girlfriend...
63. Got flowers for no reason. Received? No. Given, yep.
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma.
65. Gone sky diving. On the bucket list.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy. Star Wars and Transformers.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar. Bleh!
72. Pieced a quilt. Granny recruited me.
73. Stood in Times Square. Much cooler in real life than on TV.
74. Toured the Everglades.
75. Been fired from a job.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London.
77. Broken a bone. Pinky finger and maybe a rib.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car. 2000 Honda Civic.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible. I don't know that I've ever done the "read the Bible straight through" thing, but I know I've read every book in the Bible at sometime or another.
86. Visited the White House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox. Totally and completely sucked.
89. Saved someone’s life. Physically? No. Spiritually? I think (hope) so.
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous. Chipper Jones, Mark Wohlers, Steve Bartkowski, Billy "White-Shoe" Johnson.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one. Dad.
94. Had a baby. Well, I yelled "Push!" Had a little something to do with the conception, too.
95. Seen the Alamo in person.
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
100. Read an entire book in one day.

No smoking!

2008-11-30T12:23:00.002-05:00

What starts out as a simple story of self-defense in the home...

A would-be burglar who'd been scared off from one house by a 70-year-old woman found himself a few minutes later staring down the wrong end of a shotgun at another, police say.

And before the sun rose Sunday, Joshuah Scott Rutledge probably figured out that this northern Gaston County town wasn't ripe for the picking.

Rutledge, 26, of Oakboro was reportedly climbing through a bathroom window of a woman's home on the 3500 block of N.C. 27 in Stanley at 4:30 a.m. Sunday when the woman, who'd had her 70th birthday the week before, spotted him and scared him away before he could get inside.

He then apparently went to a house across the street off N.C. 27 on Watts Street, this time making it inside.

But once inside he found himself staring at Richard Osborne and an old shotgun that his wife's grandfather had once used to slaughter hogs. Whether the gun would still fire a shot remains in question.

Rutledge had pulled a bedspread down to cover him as he lay in the floor in a guest bedroom, Phyllis Osborne said.

But the couple could see his knuckles poking out.

"We told him, ‘If you don't come out we're going to blow your brains out,'" Phyllis Osborne said Monday. "We had to say it three times, but then he jumped up and said, ‘I'm in the wrong house. I'm in the wrong house.'"

At first Rutledge insisted he'd come to the house looking for a friend. Then he said he was there to meet the Osborne's daughter, whom he claimed to have met on the Internet.

But the Osborne's only daughter lives in Georgia, married to a law enforcement officer.

"I wasn't scared, I was mad," Richard Osborne said. "I was mad because he scared my wife."

The Osbornes have been married 30-plus years. He has a little trouble hearing, she can hear a squirrel walking across the roof.

When she heard something Sunday morning she knew someone had entered their home. Even after a quick lookaround produced nothing, she said she was sure something wasn't right.

Richard Osborne then saw the bedspread pulled down from the bed. Phyllis Osborne keeps an impeccable house.

"I'm very particular," Phyllis Osborne said. "My bed has to be made. Not a wrinkle in it."

Rutledge answered Mrs. Osborne with "Yes, mam," and "No, mam,'" she said.

Mr. Osborne had to punch him once and hit him twice with the gun. One strike with the gun came when Rutledge insisted on lighting up a cigarette while waiting on police to arrive, he said.

Since becoming fatherly, I have noticed that anytime I'm out with my son and come across puffing addicts, the words that come to my mind are something along the lines "freaking smokers" - usually not quite that nice. However, in keeping with my (sometimes) mentality of "facta, non verba", I think I like the idea of a shotgun stock to the side of the coconut.

When you come to a fork in the floor...

2008-11-16T00:00:00.003-05:00

While I'm on the subject of bad customer service, I need to give a rather loud "Huh?" to some of the situations I've encountered recently while eating out. I was at a restaurant where, for one reason or another, there was a fork on the floor. Now I don't know about the sandbox where these people lived, but in my house, if there's an eating utensil on the floor, you pick it up. So you can imagine my astonishment when not one, not two, not even three, but four members of the waitstaff walk by it, acknowledge it by looking down, and just keep right on going. Two of the four even kicked it, and still did nothing about it - our waiter included. Finally a young lady walks from the other end of the restaurant picks up the thing, and takes it to the back.

The other situations all revolve around one thing - the waiter/kitchen staff messing up an order. A handful of times in the past weeks something ordered isn't brought out right (or at all). On at least three of these occasions, our waiter has disappeared after this, never gracing our table again with his presence, sending the busboy over to clean off empty plates and do refills; twice, the waitress has accepted the food back, yet never apologized; and on at least one oh-so-memorable occasion, the waiter plopped the wrong order down in the middle of our table (despite being told nobody ordered that) and just walked off mumbling what sounded like "somebody f*%&ing ordered it."

My final words of whine are more general in nature and deal with one rather annoying aspect of eating out with large groups - the automatic gratuity. What makes the restaurants think that just because we're in a group greater than 6/8/10/12 their server is automatically deserving of a tip? Mind you, I seldom leave anything less than 15% - 20% is the norm - and rarely have left anything at 10% or below. It just rankles me when I'm at a place with a big group and have a server who is so inattentive that the entire table's drinks are empty, yet I know they're going to pad their wallet that night with the automatic 18% gratuity added on.

Get Satisfaction

2008-11-15T23:24:00.002-05:00

This was originally going to be a very different post. I had initially intended to use my little postage stamp corner of digital real-estate to take Snapfish.com to the woodshed with a 50 oz. Louisville Slugger. To shorten a lengthy story, my wife ordered something using a coupon and through a glitch in their system, the coupon didn't show up in checkout. So she contacted customer (no) service to get them to correct the amount charged her card. Their reply? No. Nope. No way. No how. Too bad.

So off to the internetz I went in search of a way to bring happiness to my humble home. Which led me to this gem of a site - GetSatisfaction.com. Instead of a website dedicated to collecting customer gripes and displaying them for all to see, they collect customer gripes... and the companies actually answer them. And in some cases, fix the problem or at least offer an amiable explanation.

So a thumbs down to Snapfish for their customer service on email and call-in center, but a huge thumbs-up for registering a couple of their guys who actually know what they're doing and take their job seriously.

On the new President...

2008-11-05T08:51:00.001-05:00

O Crap.

Caveat emptor

2008-11-03T20:55:00.003-05:00

Nebraska, the next frontier in gubment idiocy, has enacted a law that allows parents who no longer want their children to get rid of them:

Nebraska was the last state to enact a safe-haven law, which is intended to protect unwanted newborns from being abandoned. Some have interpreted the state's law to mean children as old as 18 can be abandoned because it uses the word "child" and doesn't include an age limit.

Health and Human Services officials, however, say they will not take in any children older than 17.

The Legislature plans to tackle the issue at a special session on Nov. 14. Speaker of the Legislature Mike Flood said he'll introduce a bill establishing a 3-day-old age limit.

Well it's good to know the legislature feels a little bit of urgency on this matter. So much so that it's taking them another 11 days!!!

So let me see if I get this right - under the current law, you can drop off your bratty teenager; however, under the current law, the "try-before-you-buy" thing lasts til they're three. Is there a place for kids to take their stupid parents to when they've become too much of a... oh, wait... nursing homes...

Let's catch up

2008-10-28T16:19:00.001-04:00

Now that the gas is flowing like booze at a Catholic picnic, it's time to get back to this blog-thing. I've been working long hours and traveling a bit since my last meaningful entry (I'll let you decide when that really was).

Pork Chop is doing quite well for himself. He's already developed quite the reputation for being a ladies' man, smiling and drooling all over himself when the fairer sex comes around. You should see him at Hooters.

He checks in at a hefty 18.5 lbs, and it's all baby fat. Despite my best attempts, he still has a head of hair. He's moved on to sweet potatoes now (which he loves) after a rocky start with squash (which we convinced him that he loves).

The poo. Ohhhhhh, the poo. [shiver]

Momma (aka Lilmd) is working at the church's daycare four mornings a week and taking our lil' chubby buddy along with her. She promises me on a regular basis that she doesn't look in on him. Much.

As for me, I've been a working fool - emphasis on whichever part floats your freighter. I did, however, find the time to skedaddle down to the Gulf and help relieve them of their fish-overpopulation (sorry, Gordon - we were pushed for time).

And it's in that vein that I leave you with this little joke (told on the boat by my father-in-law):

There was once this woman that sold bait in a little fishing village. Every morning she'd walk out to the tent beside the road and leave some more worms and post a sign - "Cup of worms for $5." She'd then come back up to her house and go on about her day, returning in the evening to collect the day's dues - which were always exactly what they needed to be.

One day a man stopped her and asked, "How do you trust these folks to do the right thing and not walk off with everything you have out here?"

She turned and smiled at the man; "Because they're liars, not thieves."

Bear with me...

2008-10-09T22:40:00.001-04:00

Work's been busy. Real busy.

Good dog

2008-09-11T17:05:00.001-04:00

Tissue warning now:

Omar Eduardo Rivera, who is blind, worked as a computer technician on the 71st floor of the World Trade Center until September 11, 2001. On that fateful morning, Rivera was at his job with Dorado, his four year old Labrador Retriever. When the two hijacked airliners smashed into the twin towers, Rivera had to make a loving and humane choice.

"I stood up and I could hear how pieces of glass were flying around and falling. I could feel the smoke filling up my lungs and the heat was just unbearable," he says.

"Not having any sight I knew I wouldn't be able to run down the stairs and through all the obstacles like other people. I was resigned to dying and decided to free Dorado to give him a chance of escape. It wasn't fair that we should both die in that hell.

"I thought I was lost forever. The noise and the heat were terrifying, but I had to give Dorado the chance of escape. So I unclipped his lead, ruffled his head, gave him a nudge and ordered Dorado to go."

Dorado was swept away by the crowds of people fleeing the chaotic inferno. But in the hellish searing pandemonium, the dog fought his way back to his master. Having accepted that he would die, Rivera felt the animal at his side. Then through dark stairwells in a descent that stretched out over an hour, with terrified people shoving past them, Dorado guided his charge to safety.

H/t: Xavier

So long, my couch potato pal...

2008-09-08T10:34:00.004-04:00

We lost one of the star attractions to our zoo yesterday. Popsicle, our larger than life kitty, was put to rest. He had a major buildup of fluid around his heart that was crushing his lungs, most likely attributed to some manner of heart disease or even a return of cancer. Either way, he was facing only a few months at best, most likely just miserable days.

He was the quintessential lap-and-a-half cat, so large that regardless the size of your thunder thighs, he'd still end up spilling his caboose out of your lap. His purring motor would cause a Hemi to throw a valve, and could often be heard from a couple of rooms away. In his prime he tipped the scales at 22 lbs., and he knew it - instead of running from the dog, he tossed out an anchor and would open up a wide-mouth can of cotton-swab whoopass (read: no claws) on any part of Jesse the Longnosed Slobbery Tyrant that got within striking distance.

As you might expect, the highlight of his day was eating. A vet at one time told us he did have a thyroid condition (no, really, he did!), but even once that cleared up he could out-eat ~~my pregnant wife~~ me every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Most days he would shove his brother to the side to help him finish his portion, before returning to his bowl to finish his own.

Finally, he was our million dollar cat, figuratively and almost quite literally:

Four trips to the vet opthamologist for a lacerated cornea from fighting with his brother.
A couple nights stay at the vet's office where they gave him two enemas and he still didn't poop til they gave him a third one and sent him home with us!
A thyroid condition that increased his appetite and decreased his fur.
A cancerous lump on the back of his neck. Made him look like a camel.
Unknown amounts of presents.
Repeated attempts by me to turn him in to Mr. Bigglesworth.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'll miss him.

From Our zoo

Oblivions III: The Blue Fool Group

2008-09-02T16:27:00.001-04:00

You're stopping by the grocery store or grabbing a bite to eat at your local choke-n-puke and you come upon a person talking out loud. Noticing that nobody else is around you, you start to think this person is talking to you - and suddenly you realize that you really weren't paying attention. How rude.

So you make eye contact, raise your eyebrows, nod your head, turn an ear, maybe even utter a "Sorry, didn't hear you," or "Say again."

And then you see it - the trance-inducing blue circle emanating from some sort of ear bud either burrowed into the ear canal like a mole in a pea patch or looped around the ear like a monkey looking for a banana. These little wireless pieces of techno-gadgetry, named after a Danish King, are a sure sign that you've met the newest member of the Oblivions - the Blue Fool Group.

Like their close relatives the Obliviots (fourth cousins by marriage, removed as many times as physically possible), the Blue Fools aren't completely Oblivions. Most have the ability, when not chained to the collective hive, to function in society in a normal fashion. They just get jacked up when they jack in, unable to sense that people around them could care two beans about the deal following through, Aunt Myrtle's girdle, or how your best friend's girlfriend was seen swapping spit with the lawnmower man last Friday night.

While I admit they're quite the handy little dooflotchies, do you really want that much of your personal business blabbed about the market/restaurant/mall? Even if you do, be warned that on any given day, I might do this to you:

Family pics

2008-08-29T09:44:00.002-04:00

Part 1, from birth to 2 mos...

Part 2, from 2 mos on.

Get'em Granny!

2008-08-20T20:20:00.000-04:00

You just know I couldn't pass this story up:

An 85-year-old woman boldly went for her gun and busted a would-be burglar inside her home, then forced him to call police while she kept him in her sights, authorities said.

“I just walked right on past him to the bedroom and got my gun,” Leda Smith said.

Smith heard someone break into her home Sunday afternoon and grabbed the .22-caliber revolver she had been keeping by her bed since a neighbor’s home was burglarized a few weeks ago.

“I said ‘What are you doing in my house?’ He just kept saying he didn’t do it,” Smith said.

After the 17-year-old boy called 911, Smith kept holding the gun on him until state police arrived at her home in Springhill Township, about 45 miles south of Pittsburgh.

Could you imagine being the 911 operator taking this call?

My take: The Dark Knight

2008-07-22T22:50:00.002-04:00

"I am an agent of chaos."
-- The Joker

The Dark Knight begins with Batman still going after the criminal underworld of Gotham, and making great strides. Along comes The Joker, a psychotic sort bent on changing that. Played perfectly by the late Heath Ledger in a role not only deserving of an Oscar, but a performance that sets a new benchmark for true villains, the Joker sets out on his mission of restoring criminals to being, well, criminal.

What plays out is a dance of death that is as disturbing as it is entertaining. I'm leaving this review short to avoid spoiling the movie for any of you, but I do have a word of caution. This is a hard PG-13 movie. There's a good bit of violence and death, and the intensity could be too much for some kids. If you're thinking about taking kids to this one, screen it first - especially if they're under 13.

I am Charles Bronson

2008-07-17T14:27:00.001-04:00

What Kind of a Western Hero are You?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Charles Bronson

You're normally peaceful and friendly, but when trouble strikes you respond with brutal vengeance. And despite having a face like a bashed crab, your sensitive soul helps win over ladies way above you appearance wise.

Just your garden-variety, public school-going-to-hell-in-a-handbacket story

2008-06-26T16:34:00.003-04:00

Saying their son was "silenced" by his teacher for talking about hunting in the classroom, the parents of a fourth-grade student at North Bennington Graded School took their son out of school and have taken their case to the local school board.

Bordwell [the boy's mother] said that, during snack time, Jared was discussing the recent spring turkey hunting season with a classmate when Backus interrupted the conversation, insisting that there be no talk of "killing" in her classroom.

Reached through a relative, Backus declined to comment.

Yeah, I think I'd decline to talk about it, too, considering how she reacted:

"Jared's teacher covered her ears, trying to block the conversation, and singing 'la la la la.' When asked by another school employee about her odd behavior, the teacher claimed she did not want to hear about the boys and their 'killing.' The boys were left feeling that they were not legitimate hunters, but 'killers' in the eyes of an important authority figure in their lives," Bordwell said.

Bordwell said that after the incident at school, Jared's father approached Backus, questioning the teacher about her "reprimand" of his son.

"The confrontation ended with Ms. Backus demanding that Marty leave the classroom, screeching, 'I went hiking this weekend and saw a moose and a bear, and I will never tell you where they are because you might kill them," Bordwell said.

Just what does the school principal have to say about all of this?

School Principal Thomas Martin said he is confident the administration and the school board "can reach a reasonable understanding" among the parties involved in the matter.

"It's not a huge issue," Martin said in an interview. "Marty is a good kid and Kathleen is a good teacher. The focus is on the kid. We want to try to meet his needs. Kathy cares a great deal about kids. She's troubled a great deal about this."

Martin said the issue is neither "black and white or right and wrong. It's more complicated than that. It's brushing up against a number of things that are important to a lot of people and issues relating to the classroom. Emotions start to feed into it when people's belief systems come into play," he said.

Martin said he would not support any move that would inhibit conversations about any student's hobby, "as long as it is in the parameters of good taste."

With all due respect to Principal Martin, this teacher should be fired, fired, fired. I didn't even get in to the stories about him potentially being singled out by her, but even without that - how can she be considered a good teacher? I'm of the opinion that this is more fallout from zero tolerance nonsense - this principal doesn't have what it takes to make a decision here and there's no policy dictating what his action should be.

Link to the story.

Now batting

2008-06-23T07:02:00.002-04:00

My buddy jrazz has invited me to join his blogdom, so from time to time I'll be pinch-hitting over there. Today is the first post, titled "Whither the 17 corpses?"

In all the commotion and teeth-gnashing of the 17 Gloucester girls who were willingly inseminated - supposedly half of which had a "pact" to do so - I wonder where are the 17 men? At least, I hope it's 17 men. B-O

In my day, when my natural flock of seagulls was righteous and the dames were actually embarrassed if they exposed their underwear, there was one such guy who went missing shortly before the whole school found out he and his girl had been making the beast with two backs in the back of daddy's Caddie. Something about a moose hunt in Georgia gone bad.

So far one of the 17 dipsticks has been identified as a mid-twenties urban outdoors-man. Most of the other donors are assumed to be "over-the-age."

My questions:
-Have there been reports in the area of 17 sudden homicides/kidnappings/beatings?
-Is it possible for these men to run faster than 2855 ft/sec?
-Thoughts on castration?

You'll shoot your eye out!

2008-06-18T23:04:00.003-04:00

No, honey - I wasn't making this up:

A Los Angeles woman claims she was injured by her Victoria's Secret thong, prompting her to sue the underwear manufacturer.

The plaintiff in the case, Macrida Patterson, 52, attributed the May 2007 injury to a Victoria's Secret "low-rise v-string," according to a court document posted on The Smoking Gun.

Patterson's lawyer told The Smoking Gun that a "design problem" caused a decorative metallic piece on the underwear to fly up and hit Patterson in the eye while she was putting the underwear on.

Patterson's product liability lawsuit was filed in Los Angeles Superior Court last week.

The Smoking Gun reported that, prior to the lawsuit, officials from Victoria's Secret had asked to see the offending underwear but were refused by Patterson's lawyer.

Too... many... jokes... not... enough... words...

I do have a question, though: just how small were these things that the mere act of putting them on created so much tension to have catapulted... er, something... at such a high rate of speed so as to injure her eye?

At least this gives fathers of daughters some ammunition (har-har) when they want to wear one. "Naw, honey; you'll shoot your eye out!"

Oh the inhumanity...

2008-06-06T21:39:00.002-04:00

I wish somebody in my blog constituency could explain to me how a man can get run over, in broad daylight, in the middle of a hustle and bustle part of town, with at least a dozen witnesses immediately present, and do seemingly nothing more than look, gawk, and go on with their lives. From Foxnews:

A 78-year-old man is tossed like a rag doll by a hit-and-run driver and lies motionless on a busy city street as car after car goes by. Pedestrians gawk but appear to do nothing. One driver stops briefly but then pulls back into traffic. A man on a scooter slowly circles the victim before zipping away.

The chilling scene — captured on video by a streetlight surveillance camera — has touched off a round of soul-searching in Hartford, with the capital city's biggest newspaper blaring "SO INHUMANE" on the front page and the police chief lamenting: "We no longer have a moral compass."

"We have no regard for each other," said Chief Daryl Roberts, who on Wednesday released the video in hopes of making an arrest in the accident that left Angel Arce Torres in critical condition.

Setting aside the vitriol I have for the two miscreants whose game of Grand Theft Auto style racing through the streets was interrupted by a living and breathing human being - because they will be caught and charged, hopefully thumped with a club a time or ten - I have to ask myself: what on earth paralyzed so many of those onlookers and passers-by?

Of course, the first thing that comes to my mind is legality. The Good Samaritan Law takes care of that - though I doubt most if any of them knew that. I think it goes deeper in to our subculture, and it's something I've harped on before. We've been ingrained indoctrinated to sit back and let someone else - namely the government - take care of whatever happens. If I were one of those people in that video who had seen that and did nothing, I'd be ashamed of myself.

Farther down the rabbit hole

2008-06-05T16:40:00.001-04:00

Papers please:

D.C. police will seal off entire neighborhoods, set up checkpoints and kick out strangers under a new program that D.C. officials hope will help them rescue the city from its out-of-control violence.

Under an executive order expected to be announced today, police Chief Cathy L. Lanier will have the authority to designate “Neighborhood Safety Zones.” At least six officers will man cordons around those zones and demand identification from people coming in and out of them. Anyone who doesn’t live there, work there or have “legitimate reason” to be there will be sent away or face arrest, documents obtained by The Examiner show.

...

Peter Nickles, the city’s interim attorney general, said the quarantine would have “a narrow focus.”

“This is a very targeted program that has been used in other cities,” Nickles told The Examiner. “I’m not worried about the constitutionality of it.”

Land of the free, huh? For maybe the second or third time in my adult life I find myself agreeing with the ACLU (I'm still getting over typing that statement):

Shelley Broderick, president of the D.C.-area American Civil Liberties Union and the dean of the University of the District of Columbia’s law school, said the plan was “cockamamie.”

“I think they tried this in Russia and it failed,” she said. “It’s just our experience in this city that we always end up targeting poor people and people of color, and we treat the kids coming home from choir practice the same as we treat those kids who are selling drugs.”

What I'm... May 2008 edition

2008-05-30T23:22:00.002-04:00

What I'm...

Reading:

Splinter Cell: Fallout - based on one of my favorite videogame series, I couldn't pass this up when I found it at an airport bookstore for a Thomas Jefferson and some change. So far, it's okay, and would really only appeal to fans of the game - it's light fluff.
Star Wars: Truce at Bakura - This is the chronological start of a number of post-original-trilogy books in the Star Wars universe, picking up where Return of the Jedi leaves off. I read it years ago and have greatly desired to pick the series back up and catch up to some of the newer stuff.
Book of James - our Sunday School class is doing a study on this covering aspects of the text itself as well as Luther's dislike of it. Personally, I've found myself enjoying reading it quite a bit.

Listening to:

Alter Bridge: Blackbird - It's Creed minus Scott Stapp, which is good and bad. The lead singer is forgettable, but Mark Tremonti, in my opinion, is one of modern music's best guitarists.
Johnny Cash,The American IV: The Man Comes Around - I'm not a big country fan, but there's not a lot about this album that's actually country except for the Man in Black himself. They're all covers of other songs, most known, some obscure. I've just found it to be good driving music.
Dashboard Confessional: Dusk and Summer - Emo-quasi-whiny band. Not much to say, really. I just like'em.

Playing:

Wii Sports - One of the best free add-ins for a console since Super Mario World with the Super Nintendo.
Advance Wars: Days of Ruin - I'm a huge fan of this series since it's early days on the GameBoy Advance - it's turn-based strategy at it's finest. Even though it's not the best one in the series - Dual Strike was significantly better - it is the first in the series to offer online multiplayer, even if the server's can't handle the traffic.
Guillotine - neat little playing card game. Easy to pick up and learn.

Watching:

Lost - At this point, you're either in or you're not. I'm in. Very in. If you're out, catch up with it on DVD.
The Unit - I'm midway through season two of this TV show, and thankful that it's finally been renewed for a third season - even if I'm not all that excited about the change to Sundays. I highly recommend the book it's based on, too - Inside Delta Force.
Jon & Kate Plus 8 - Always reminds my wife and I that if they can handle eight, we can handle one.

What's wrong with some people?

2008-05-30T22:32:00.002-04:00

So last weekend, I take my wife out for brunch at a local favorite of ours. Seeing as how my son is only 5 weeks old, I decided we should probably bring him along. We walk in, take our seats and the waitress begins to ooh and ahh and we let her keep doing that while we look over the menu. She starts yakking along and then drops this little gem: "I just had my 7 month old grandbaby die due to SIDs."

What was the thought process that went through her mind before deciding to share that particular piece of information with us, the parents of a 5-week-old? I can only hope somebody who's just starting chemo doesn't come in to hear about her dear aunt Sally who died of cancer. Sheesh...

The Purpose Driven Blog

2008-05-28T21:45:00.002-04:00

When I started this blog-thing, the purpose was simple. Writing. Seems a bit silly, I know, but the problem is I hated to write. Like going-to-the-dentist type of hate - necessary, but not enjoyable. The problem with my problem - follow me here - is at the time I was going to be writing a LOT of papers at school, papers that I couldn't just half-butt into existence overnight with heavy amounts of caffeine.

Thus, my plan was simple - write about things I like, love, and detest. Devise - or dare I say, engineer - witty, wordy ways of whimsically wondering... err, musing.

And thus was born this blog. Aside from serving it's original purpose of getting me writing more, amateurish as it may be, it's also been cathartic in many ways. While a few posts may have been heavy and dealt with serious subject matter, I intentionally strive to keep it light - there are far deeper thinkers in the annals of blogdom that can illustrate theological thoughts far better than I can.

In the words of one of the best hours of TV ever: "where do we go from here?" Well, I dunno. Most likely, the posting will continue to be sporadic. It may be a few days between posts, a few weeks, maybe even (but hopefully not) a few months. The demands of work plus family will just mean that posting will take a backseat to many other things.

What this means for you, my loyal blog readership? Well, for those that use regular old bookmarks, it means that you will most likely become less loyal - it's just human nature that you'll only click on it so many times, and then you just won't. For those that are browsing the interwebs in the twenty-first and a half century, it means you'll get a little gift in your RSS reader's inbox-of-sorts when I do post something, and you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Lastly, I want to say how thankful I am for the community of friends I've developed through this thing. Some I've met never met in person, others I meet every time they make a pilgrimage to a certain outdoor mega-store near my house, and still others I correspond with through email, chatting, etc. It has been a real blessing getting to know you all - and for those I haven't met yet, I hope to soon. If nothing else to at least sit down and have a cup of coffee. Or go shooting.

Atlanta!

2008-05-07T17:45:00.001-04:00

Some language, so don't watch it if that's a problem for you.

Headfirst into first

2008-05-06T11:47:00.000-04:00

Watching the Braves game Sunday afternoon I witnessed one of the dumbest things I see done in Major League Baseball today. Martin Prado hit a dribbler toward the area between the 1st and 2nd basemen and the pitcher. Seeing that there was a bit of confusion, Prado spiked chalk as fast as he could and it was obvious the play was going to be close. Seeing the pitcher nearly at the bag, he dove headfirst toward the bag.

Good news - he was safe!
Bad news - he's out 6 to 8 weeks with a grade 1-2 sprain on his thumb!

What on earth possesses big leaguers to do this? Do you see Olympic sprinters dive across the finish line to gain that extra advantage? Absolutely not. It's actually so discouraged in the minors (and most recreation leagues) now that any person doing this, is immediately pulled from the game and in some farm systems, called out.

I don't know that I'm quite that vigilant about it; I just can't understand, for the life of me, why any pro ballplayer would slow himself down getting to the bag at the only base he can run past and still be safe! Put out the landing gear for 2nd and 3rd all you want. Run through first on a close play - it's faster and far less likely to cause an injury.

Oh, by the way, when Prado did his slide in to 1st base, the Braves were up by 6 with 3 innings left in the game.

Best homerun trot ever

2008-05-05T16:28:00.000-04:00

Girl hits a homerun - her first ever - to win the game, and then:

With two runners on base and a strike against her, Sara Tucholsky of Western Oregon University uncorked her best swing and did something she had never done, in high school or college. Her first home run cleared the center-field fence.

But it appeared to be the shortest of dreams come true when she missed first base, started back to tag it and collapsed with a knee injury.

She crawled back to first but could do no more. The first-base coach said she would be called out if her teammates tried to help her. Or, the umpire said, a pinch runner could be called in, and the homer would count as a single.

If this next part doesn't give you warm fuzzies, then you ain't right:

Central Washington first baseman Mallory Holtman, the career home run leader in the Great Northwest Athletic Conference, asked the umpire if she and her teammates could help Tucholsky.

The umpire said there was no rule against it.

So Holtman and shortstop Liz Wallace put their arms under Tucholsky's legs, and she put her arms over their shoulders. The three headed around the base paths, stopping to let Tucholsky touch each base with her good leg.

Hello World

2008-04-19T12:29:00.005-04:00

Our son, Chase Nathaniel.

The Big Show - Live!

2008-04-18T19:30:00.003-04:00

3:03pm - Arrived at the hospital. Surveyed the outside surroundings and did our best Splinter Cell impersonation - not easy to do when one of us has the turning radius of a Cadillac - and made it to the Labor and Delivery suites without being sighted by a coworker.

4:07pm - After checking her reflexes and nearly being kicked through the wall - they were checking her elbow - the recommendation has been made to administer something for nerves. I just hope they bring something for her, too.

5:30pm - Whoa, Nelly! We've got contractions! Nice big ones, too. Man, might be done with this in time to watch the Braves... whaddaya mean those aren't even big ones?

6:20pm - She's approaching sleep now. Pills are good. Light is not. I'm contemplating using a diaper to secure the drapes together. In all that crap we packed there's not a single roll of duck tape? How am I gonna get a diaper on the kid?

7:15pm - Hmmm... food just got delivered. Guess this will be a good time to see what stage of labor she's in.

7:16pm - Not sure what stage of labor she's in. But the food is out of the room. So am I. And no, for those of you scoring at home (or even if you're alone), this does not count toward the Sunday School pool of if I'll be thrown out of the room. The food was told to go; being inanimate, I had to take it.

8:10pm - Contractions are 1 min. apart and pretty intense. Right now it's taking me, a nurse, one hard pillow, and three soft pillows to get her to comfortable. This'll last for about two or three contractions, then we've got to flip her like a burger.

8:30pm - Dr. Huxtable is in to see us now, and that's got my Spidey senses all tingly. I've always heard (and read) that the Doc doesn't make an appearance until it's time to catch the baby - unless there's an issue. Maybe he was just around anyway. Contractions haven't changed.

9:15pm - I'm starting to understand why this is called "labor." What I've seen here in the last hour or so is surreal. TV? Hollywood? Lies - all lies.

10:30pm - Doc is back: she's at 4 cm. I am, too.

10:45pm - Contractions are starting to decrease in intensity?! I thought they were only supposed to get worse and worse, kinda like racing your larger brother down a hill and him falling in to you, causing a human-snowball of pain and agony, each bounce faster and more intense.

11:10pm - How in the name of all that is good, righteous, and holy are we supposed to sleep when the cast of Stomp has decided to start beating on every dagblasted thing they can find out there?! Honestly, it sounds like they released kids, all of them, into the galleys to let them pick a pot and spoon and sent them up here to beat on them like it's a freaking parade.

11:25pm - Looks like we're in for a long night. We'll be starting the pitocin (if needed) at 2am or so. As such, this may be the last update for a while.

3:10am - Now we're down to it. Epidural is in. Water is broken. She slept for about two to two and a half hours. I have a half a tank of gas, a full pack of crackers, it's dark, and I'm not wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

6:30am - Dilated 10cm.

7:45am - "Push him out, shove him out, waaaaaaay out!"

8:00am - I'm not sure what she just said. It sounded almost Klingon.

8:17am - He's here. 7.4 oz, 19.5 in. long. Chase Nathaniel. Pics to come.

It's time

2008-04-17T14:05:00.001-04:00

Stay tuned for the live-blogging event of the year...

Are you ready?

2008-04-09T16:55:00.002-04:00

What is it that compels people to say stupid things to expectant families? Are they just allergic to silence? Worried that if they don't ask something related to pregnancy they'll seem uncaring or lacking in intelligence? Honestly, walking up to us and exclaiming "Wow, she's ready to pop!" is roughly akin to saying "Wow, she's fatter than Garfield at the Macy's Thanksgiving parade!"

Even before it looked as if she swallowed a torpedo, the idiocy began. "Save up your sleep - you're gonna need it!" I'll get right on that - exactly how do I store sleep? Do I can it? Bottle it? Hermetically seal it in mayonnaise jars on Funk and Wagnalls porch? Put it in the rubber soles of my size 10's and spend it kicking your butt up and down street?

And then there's the one that ten percent of the time is completely harmless and well intended, and 90 percent spoken by a real schmuck - "are you ready?" Should I hazard an answer and say "yes," I'm immediately met with "No you're not. You'll never be ready." And if, heaven forbid, I should say "No," then I'm lit up like Ted Kennedy at the Blue Oyster - "You'd better get ready! What are you waiting on? She's about ready to pop!"

So here is our answer, for all of the posterior's posterity. The nursery is done. We have clothes, diapers, bottles, books, heffalumps, and woozles. We have a car seat, pack-n-play, glider w/ ottoman, and enough receiving blankets to swaddle quindecaplets - two sets. We've got family and friends ready to help should a tragedy beyond our imaginations should occur. We are mentally prepared to forgo sleep, food, recreation, TV, movies, videogames, and a host of other needed and unneeded things to keep our child healthy, happy, and protected. If that doesn't fit your smarmy or otherwise defined use of the question "are you ready" then take your opinion to the southern end of a northbound mule and pucker it up.

3 references:
2nd paragraph = 50 points
3rd paragraph = 50 points
Last paragraph = 25 points
Hint: not all of them are movies

Of Men and Swine

2008-04-09T16:52:00.001-04:00

This is going to come as quite a shock to many of you, so brace yourself.

I've never been hunting. I mean real hunting, rifle and all. I've sat in the woods in my younger years with my uncle, but I've never been active in a real hunt. Mostly because I don't care for deer meat; I don't turn my nose up to it, but I won't be knocking down old ladies to be first in line for the venison at the big game luncheon at Bubba Baptist Church. Wild hog, on the other hand... well, that's just good eats.

So a while back, I set out in to the brush of south Georgia, visions of ribs, butt, and loins dancing in my head in a cloud of hickory smoke. The first thing - at least in my mind - that entered my head when planning for the hunt - I'm gonna need guns! Lots of guns!

That thought was evident as I stepped out of the truck of our tour guide and began loading and strapping on iron like a man ready to defend the Alamo with thoughts of making it out alive. Slung on my shoulder, my dad's trusty .44 Mag lever-gun; on my left hip, a .44 Mag 7 1/4 inch single-action revolver, my backup gun; and on my right hip, my trusty Walther 9mm. On my person was more than 50 rounds of big boy .44 Magnum ammo and 30 rounds of 9mm hollowpoints. No doubt in my mind now - I looked like a living incarnation of the apocryphal Mall Ninja.

Into the wild we went, hunting grunters. Little did I know, it would be I who would be doing the majority of the grunting, due to the obscene dearth of briars in the brush. I'm talking about stuff so thick that visibility of ground was not even possible at some areas from a standing level. And then...

Movement. On a line parallel to us, but moving in the opposite direction, maybe 15 feet away. And I couldn't see anything but the top of the brush swaying back and forth, taunting me. I trained my rifle on what looked to me to be the most "open" area and waited for the first sign of brownish colored hair to cross my sights. The tops of the brush swayed right up to where I was pointing... and I never saw a thing. Nada.

So Miss Piggy got a reprieve that day. But I'm hooked - and will most definitely be back.

I'm Swamped

2008-03-26T12:19:00.001-04:00

We interrupt this hiatus...

Yes, the musings have been stagnant for a while. And there's no reason to think it'll change anytime soon. Between baby-showers, nursery prep, work, and studying, I've been busier than a dog with two... uhm, busier than a hen in the chick... err, busier than a cocktail waitress at the annual "slap-n-tickle" in Vegas.

Regular readers are probably still scratching their heads about that above statement - no, not the slap-n-tickle; the "studying" comment. That's right, I've been studying. It was such a way of life for so many years that I just sorta naturally slipped back...

I can't do that to you. Actually, I'm been dragged back in, kicking and screaming, to the world of ~~difficult~~ differential equations, thermodynamics, statics, kinetics, active and passive circuits, motors, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I've already learned and am having to relearn. Why all this torture? I've got the FE (future engineer) exam coming up in two and a half weeks. It's the first step towards gaining my professional engineering license, which is a must if I ever want to work as a consultant.

Oh, and after that, there will be more studying for my CAP certification (Certified Automation Professional). In amongst that, I'll be balancing work, keeping a new baby alive and clean, a 9th wedding anniversary, Guilder to frame... I'm swamped.

10 points for the movie reference, no hints needed.

A Student with a Gun: My Response

2008-03-13T18:52:00.007-04:00

In 1966, Charles Whitman, a student at the University of Texas, climbed to the top of a building and opened fire on every student he could put his sights on. The total carnage for the day was 14 killed, 31 wounded.

And that's where it all started. For the first time ever, the sanctity of a school campus was tarnished, no longer seen as a safe haven to send young adults to. And, like many things, it was only a matter of time before this kind of violence would find it's way into younger halls of academia.

Thirteen years later, in an elementary school in San Diego, CA, Brenda Ann Spencer, possibly high on drugs, entered an elementary school and started shooting. Two were killed - the principal and the custodian - and 8 kids and a police officer were injured.

Ten years after that, in 1989, the Stockton massacre - where a deranged gunman took an "assault rifle" to a children's playground, killing 5 before taking his own life - put gun violence in to the national spotlight. In 1991, a bill was signed in to law taking guns out of schools.

The only problem is - it didn't.

First, some perspective. Starting in 1966, with the UT shooting until January of 1991, when the bill was effected, there were 6 shootings* that would fall under the term we know as "school shooting." That's on incident every four years.

At this point you may want to sit down and brace yourself.

Starting with the year of the "gun free school zone" and going til the present, there have been 37 shootings. In 18 years. That's right at 2 shootings per year that shouldn't be happening inside this bubble of safety we've supposedly cast around our younger generation. What hasn't been realized is we've essentially cloaked our little ones in the Emperor's New Clothes.

So, what to do after the laws aren't obeyed and shootings increase? Well, restrict the guns even more. The Clinton administration did just that when they signed in to law what has become known as the Assault Weapons ban in 1994. Until it expired in 2004, there were 19 school shootings - with maybe one exception (Columbine - and I did say maybe) none of the weapons used in those shootings were banned; furthermore, the gun free zones were still in effect.

It hasn't worked, and it won't. Gun control is a myth. Gun laws, like any other laws, only work for the law-abiding citizen. They mean nothing to a criminal, much less a deranged person hell-bent on destroying others... and themselves.

Note: this is a more fleshed out comment to a post by Jrazz about the Israeli school shooting. As a source, I used the wiki page on school shootings. I generally don't consider them very reliable, but these incidents have been so well documented that the wiki page contains the citations.

Fly Me Friendly

2008-03-13T18:14:00.001-04:00

This week marked a big first for me - my first commercial flight since being grown. Until Monday afternoon, I had only been on planes on two other occasions: once when I was ten months old flying back to the states from overseas, the other was a Cessna 172 when I was in college - the first time. Now, it wasn't because of fear - though I do believe had the Almighty intended for us to fly he would have given us feathers and wings - but more because, while growing up we, as a family, just didn't take vacations that would require flying anywhere.

So, with much guffaw and circumstance, I boarded flight 113 from ATL to DFW on Monday of this week, headed for a week of training in fantabulous Dallas, TX. Here are a few of the things I found out on the flight over:

Airtran = itty-bitty living space
My MP3 player, a Sandisk, at 98% volume, can mostly drown out the cries of a baby.
Blasting aliens in Contra 4 helps drown out the desire to wake the obnoxiously loud snoring person two rows back. On an afternoon flight!
Flying above the clouds is quite etheral.
Not seeing the ground for nearly 90 minutes of a two hour flight can cause tears upon the first glance of terra firma.
Window seats are cool. Til you have to pee.

1000 points to the person that can correctly identify (without the use of the internet) the movie the title of the post comes from. Here's a hint: the line isn't ever spoken.

Again with The Rules

2008-03-05T17:09:00.002-05:00

This is not directed at anybody I've ever shot with or handled firearms around. Most people I associate with and handle firearms around obey The 4 Rules; even if they have a brain-fart and violate one, they take correction and apologize.

Why are my boxers ruffled, you ask?

A friend of mine was sitting in his living room when some "friend" of his did just that. His friend was clowning and, after hearing about Rule Number 2 - never point the gun at anything you don't want to destroy - pointed the gun at him and said [bubba voice=on] "Like this?" - smiling and chuckling all along.

This guy is an absolute , and deserves to never be around you with anything more than a water gun. Ours is not a culture of pride. Egos must be checked at the door. Nobody is above reproach.

"What do I do if this happens to me?" Glad you asked...

For starters, get out of the line of fire. This doesn't need to be done with great dramatics - no diving for the ground, yelling "take cover!" And for everybody's sake, don't pull your own firearm, unless you honestly believe this person is trying to shoot you. Calmly step aside.

Next, inform the person of their transgression, but keep it civil. No need in getting anybody excited, especially when there is a loaded gun tossed in the equation and Bubba the Funny Clown/Redneck. Reacting in anything more than a professional and courteous manner will most likely give him the satisfaction he was looking for in the first place. Refrain from calling him names - that time will come.

Now comes the crucial point. Instruct the person to safety the weapon* and put it down. Keeping with the earlier advice, maintain politeness - use the word "please." Never threaten action on your part if he does not comply!!! He just might call your bluff - remember, we're dealing with an , obviously of one of the upper order s. This step MUST (note the use of absolute wording) occur - there will be no wrestling when somebody is holding a gun.

Once the gun is on a table, the floor, wherever, take it and clear it, but most importantly DO NOT violate one of the safety rules in your haste to end the confrontation! This person is going to be watching you like a hawk, and at this point will hopefully feel ashamed. If not...

... this is the point where you can beat him down and call him a scruffy-looking nerf-herder.

*Astute readers, or anybody who's ever gone shooting with me before, know that I don't particularly care for mechanical safeties on a gun with two exceptions - 1) a drop safety, and 2) thumb safety on a 1911. Even with those, safeties tend to give a false sense of security and can (and will) fail if given the right conditions. That said every gun comes with one safety - YOUR trigger finger. Keep that booger hook off the bang-switch til time to go boom.

Letter to my son: Grandpa

2008-03-02T21:12:00.001-05:00

Dear Rerun,

This should probably wait til you're a little older, but I figured at this point you're pretty much a captive audience. That's just the way life in the uterus is.

When you come in to this world, you're going to have a lot of people to get to know and names to put with faces. Obviously, momma and dada are (hopefully) near the top of your list, somewhere just behind "Aunt Payton." Shortly thereafter - or possibly even before - will come the words Papa. Congratulations - you've found the word that will get you something out of the cookie jar every single time.

One of your Grandpa's you will know right from the start. I'll give you a hint - he'll be the one putting a fishing rod in your hands before you even know what a fish is. He'll also be the one responsible for blinding you with the flash of his camera. This is mommy's dad, and it's very important not to pee on him too much - he's got a convertible.

Your other Grandpa, well, it's gonna be a while before you know him. Sorta. You see, many years ago, that Grandpa - daddy's dad - got a call. Not a phone call, or as they'll say by the time you're here, a cellphone call. And not the one Mommy will most likely be yelling throughout the neighborhood when it's dark and dinner's getting cold. In fact, nobody else heard the call but him. It was God, saying something about like, "Time to go, Larry."

Yes, Grandpa was named after a stooge. And it fit.

You see, Dad - that's Grandpa to you - was a cut-up, and one of the best. He constantly kept his friends and family laughing. He had a love for the game of baseball - it is your destiny, son. He loved cars and motorcycles. He had a knack for fixing things, anything. He loved electronics. Believe it or not, he even loved videogames - this too, is your destiny, my little padawan.

But most of all, son, he had a passion for God and for putting his faith in to action. He could talk church and scripture with the best of them, but wouldn't bat an eye at putting some sweat in to spreading the Gospel. He loved people, and engaged everybody, even total strangers, in conversation.

I realize that you're a bit young for all of this. For you, growing up and seeing one Grandpa will be the norm. But at some time, I know you're going to ask about him, your other Grandpa - the one you'll most likely have only seen in pictures and in videos. I just hope that one day you realize, like I already have, that there's somebody here that, for better and worse, is just like him.

And that's me.

Things Not To Say During Childbirth

2008-03-01T09:08:00.002-05:00

Gosh, you're lucky. I sure wish men could experience the miracle of childbirth.

Do you think the baby will come before Monday Night Football starts?

I hope your ready. The Glamour Shot photographer will be here in fifteen minutes.

If you think this hurts, I should tell you about the time I twisted my ankle playing basketball.

That was the kids on the phone. Did you have anything planned for dinner?

When you lay on your back, you look like a python that swallowed a wild boar.

You don't need an epidural. Just relax and enjoy the moment.

This whole experience kind of reminds me of an episode from I Love Lucy.

Oops! Which cord was I supposed to cut?

Stop your swearing and just breathe.

Remember what we learned in Lamaze class! HEE HEE HOO HOO. You're not using the right words.

Your stomach still looks like there's another one in there.

Weird things I do

2008-02-27T16:50:00.002-05:00

This has been spurred on, in part, by Glenna's Randimonium post.

I only roll in one direction in the bed - clockwise if you're looking from the foot of the bed. No matter what position I switch to, that's the way I roll. And yes, I've been known to roll a complete circle and wind up in the same position. A side-effect - because I'm on the right side of the bed, I end up taking the covers from my poor little wife, who needs them more than I do.

I have a soundtrack constantly playing in my head during the conscious hours of my day. This is a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, a song will get stuck in there - curse you, Taylor Swift! And Drew! - and the only way to get it out of my head is to make up my own song. At this point, I have written more than Bach and Beethoven combined... in my head.

When I take a shower, before I begin any part of it, I have to make sure the sides are perfectly sealed and that the shower curtain is evenly distributed so there are no big gaps in the bottom of it.

I sigh. No reason needed. That's just what I do.

I can name all 50 states in alphabetical order on the spot. Thank you Mrs. Bearden's 5th Grade Choir.

really

I spit in the toilet. It drives my wife insane. Haven't figured out yet where she'd prefer for me to spit.

Rules of the Royal Throne Room

2008-02-19T19:01:00.002-05:00

I'll go ahead and tell you right off the bat that this is potty humor. Literally. If this brand of humor offends you, turn the radio dial to the right. I just feel the need to inform all of you, mainly the men, of transgressions made in that most sacred of places - the public restroom. While this will generally only cover the work "office", it can (and in my opinion should) apply to other public halls of semi-indecency.

For starters, at no time in that room should there ever be any handshaking. Period. For that matter, there shall not be any rumpshaking, either. The only shaking that should be occurring in there should happen once - no double-clicking the mouse.

Next I'd like to address conversations. When you go to salute the loo, there is to never be eye contact with the person next to you. This is most important to you remember if you are a tall people - us hobbits aren't too sure what you're looking at. Furthermore, the newest office joke or a hot piece of gossip is not something that I need to hear when I'm trying to ring the Cheerio. If you feel chatty, go to the women's lavoratory. And for crying out loud, none of this "man that water's cold!" business. No standing six feet away either - it's gross and just makes you look like a tool.

Taking the conversation piece one step further, when you're on the royal throne doing your duty for queen and country, don't talk to me. It's not a nasty thing, but more self preservation. You see, my inner child is only 12 and not growing up any time soon. If we're mired in a deep conversation while one of us is going to brown town and there is a main shuttle bay decompression, I'm not going to be able to talk - I'm going to be quietly, but literally figuratively, laughing my butt off. All together now - fart is funny.

Finally, and this may only apply to certain workplaces where Crackberries are prevalent, but I don't need to here the clickety-clacking of you typing away an email, text, making an appt, or whatever else you would be doing on the thing while in those hallowed halls. I certainly don't need to hear you discussing TPS reports or the latest stock tips. It is a land of peace and tranquility - don't pollute it.

Wear your 6" stilletos on Sunday morning

2008-02-15T11:51:00.000-05:00

Tampa's gonna be a heckuva commute on Sundays...

A pastor has a new challenge for his parishioners. It involves sex - a subject that may be taboo in many congregations.

The Relevant Church in Tampa's Ybor City has issued a 30-day sex challenge.

"It's going to be tempting and awkward at the same time for sure," said parishioner Brent Cayson.

Single men and women can't have sex for 30 days, and married couples are urged to have it every day.

"If you look at studies, studies say in 30 days you can develop a habit," said Pastor Paul Wirth.

It definitely caught wives in the church by surprise.

"Our married people are far more fearful than our single people," said Wirth.

"Sex is about more than intercourse and that's what we're trying to tell people," said church member Jarret Haas.

Wirth has found biblical references that he says suggest Jesus disapproved of pre-marital sex and promoted sex in marriage. So, he believes people connect to God through life-long commitment.

That's why he tells his single followers to abstain, and his married followers to indulge.

Wirth is a former Baptist. He founded his non-denominational ministry three years ago. And he markets his church by tackling unusual or controversial topics.

On the one hand, I do realize that we're talking about somebody that does this sort of thing for attention getting purposes. Cue-up the church youth group Halo tournaments arguments.

However, I kind of admire him for not ducking something I think a lot of church pastors would just as much leave be. Most will cite scripture on abstinance for singles, but I've never heard any go to the point of challenging them, point blank, to not doing "it."

Letter to my son: Hopes

2008-02-12T17:00:00.000-05:00

Dear son,

You don't know me yet. Well, you sorta do. I'm the deep voice you've been hearing for the last few weeks, the one that's usually laughing. Obnoxiously. Sorry 'bout that.

Anyhow, the point of this is I have some songs to sing and some things to say, things that I just don't really want to wait another two months for. While you won't understand much of it now - or any of it - I feel the need to get them off of my chest. Sometimes dad will have a problem with this, other times not so much. Most likely the latter, unless I have laryngitis.

The beginning of life always holds so much hope. It's in this vein, that I give you a small list of my hopes for you:

I hope you are healthy.
I hope you love baseball.
I hope you only like soccer.
I hope you have Mommy's eyes, hearing, and smelling.
I hope you have Daddy's eyesight.
I hope you have Mommy's blood pressure, teeth, and heart.
I hope you have Daddy's cholesterol.
I hope you don't fall apart like Daddy seems to be...
I hope you have the courage to face your fears.
I hope you love.
I hope you hope.
Most importantly, I hope you find God.

Trust me, Rerun, I have many more hopes and dreams (and fears) that I would like to share with you - and a handful Mommy would just as much assume I wouldn't. But there's time - you won't really start talking for quite some time. However, when you do, I have one more hope I'd like to share with you - I hope that your first words are "Payton is a girl."

We are Borg

2008-02-09T14:56:00.000-05:00

The new job started this week, and it's outstanding. Amazing. A real "people first" organization. I've mentioned to many people in conversation that I feel this entire process has been guided by God. And, as we all know, God has a sense of humor.

This place uses Microsoft everything. Winblows, Orafice, Scheduling. Even the routers are Windows Server based. And those that aren't will be ported to a Microsoft product within the year - "job security" is the most popular reason I hear. Whatever, bunch of Blue Pill takers.

No, not that Blue Pill.

Outside of that, the job is quite groovy. Hard to complain about having only a 6 minute commute, 10 minutes if there's traffic.

Much ado

2008-02-09T11:21:00.000-05:00

I have to admit, the old blog is really suffering - and it might continue that way. Besides being busy, just haven't been in a writing mood. That is, until yesterday...

So there I was, sitting at my new desk, at my new job, looking over my new business cards when my old phone rings (as opposed to my new phone). I look at the callerid and notice that it's my wife's work... only I know she's not there.

She works at a hospital. Gulp.

I answer the phone and it's the other assistant in the office, explaining that she has my wife on the other line (!), she's in pain (!!), and that she's talked to Dr. Huxtable and that I need to go home and get her to the hospital (!!!). Get in the back, Dale Jr. - I'm taking the wheel on this one...

I get home and find lil md upstairs, crying, and trembling - which is only unusual in the fact that she was upstairs. She's part Chihuahua. Anyhoo, down the stairs and in the car we went... to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I saw a turtle pass us, smiling.

I powerslid into the emergency room bay and ran inside, planning to yell "Pregnant lady in pain! Need a gurney, stat!" The only problem was, there was nobody in the waiting room or at the registration desk. Nobody. And yelling in an empty room... well, just wouldn't have been as satisfying.

Finally I get a nurse and soon we're in a wheelchair going in to the Labor and Delivery ward... and that's when it hit me. I just might leave out of here a dad. I mean, technically, I'm already a father, but I'm not a dad yet. That's a heavy feeling, man.

Three nurses, two vials of blood, and one heckuva pain killer later, we have our answer - an abdominal strain from copious quantities of coughing. By 11pm we were discharged and on our way home.

And that's how we roll on a Friday night.

Ch-ch-ch-changes!!!

2008-01-29T20:58:00.000-05:00

Lots a changes happening 'round here. To begin with, Friday was my last day at my old job - which still feels kind of odd to say. I spent three years there, the longest I've been at any job I've ever had. After that amount of time, the people you're around and work with day in and day out become like family - dysfunction and all. I'll miss them. As one job passes...

Next Monday, Feb. 4th, in sort of an early birthday present to me, I take my shiny new Electrical Engineering degree and start my new job. If I can put in to words the way God has (seemingly) set forth and lit the path for me to this job, I would. But I can't. Let's just say that it's in a field I reeeaaalllyyy wanted to get in to but is difficult to get a foot in even with a BSEE. The perks - much better pay, better benefits, and only 2 miles from my house. That means, even during rush hour traffic, it'll take me 10 minutes to get to the office. And yes, I have timed it. Twice.

Probably the biggest change of all is still baking in the oven (if you follow me). Our due date was originally set for April 30, but apparently this will be a leavened child, for it's now sounding like we're gonna shorten the cooking time by a couple of weeks. Might be the dutch oven. Anyway, there's still a nursery to finish, showers to be had, and pitchers and catchers to report.

Oh, and for those astute enough to notice, my last day on the job was this past Friday; the new job starts next Monday. Yes - I'm taking a week off. I figure it's the last one I have where the only to-do list is handed down by my wife and not my son and wife.

Inner Workings

2008-01-23T09:03:00.000-05:00

While I'm on my gun binge, if you want to see something cool, check this out. Genitron has a handgun page with three interactive models showing the whole nuts-n-bolts of a revolver and two types of semi-autos, including the Glock. No, I don't care for the Glock all that much, but a lot of the internal makeup of this firearm has revolutionized the way modern firearms are designed. Even if you're not a gun-nut, the modeling is really cool.

Public Service Announcement: Guns

2008-01-23T08:37:00.000-05:00

Top 10 Manliest Firearms

2008-01-21T10:06:00.000-05:00

Michael Williamson wrote about the top "manliest" firearms (in his not-so-humble opinion) a few months ago. I won't cut-n-paste the whole article, but there are some real gems in here.

#9. Mosin-Nagant M44 - This Russian beast is notorious in the gun community for being one of the cheapest military grade rifles around - one can be had for as low as $60. Myself not being a fan of manual safeties, I found this to be rather funny: "Speaking of guns without safeties, here's the Mosin-Nagant M44 Carbine from Russia. The Mosin was used by the Russians against the Finns, the Finns against the Russians, the Estonians against the Russians, the Russians against the Russians, and the Russians against the Germans. It does, in fact, have a safety, but it's quite hard to engage. But this is not a complaint one would ever voice in the Red Army. Your officer would reply, "Safety? Safety? Is gun! Meant to kill! No warrior should know he has safety on gun, because he should be killing enemies of homeland! Safety make loud click to aid enemy in locating warriors! No safety!" while pounding his fist on the table." Gotta agree with Vladimir on this one.

#8. Glock - Ugh! I don't care for Glocks. Just not for me. That said, I'm aware of and do respect their reputation for being darned reliable and quite possibly the ugliest thing since ~~Hillary~~ George Clinton.

#7 Swiss K31 - I know nothing of this gun, but I love this story Williamson relates: There is a story, possibly apocryphal but awesome nonetheless, that a ranking German (possibly the Kaiser) was visiting and watching the Swiss military on their summer maneuvers. He asked the Swiss commander, "How big a force do you command?"

The Swiss general confidently replied, "I can mobilize one million men in twenty-four hours."

The German asked, "What would happen if I marched five million men in here tomorrow?"

The Swiss replied, "Each of my men will fire five shots and go home."

#5 Smith & Wesson Model 29 - Also known as the gun Dirty Harry carried, I and my wife can personally attest to how manly this weapon is - I cap off as many rounds of .44 Magnum ammo as I can whenever I get around this gun; she shot it once and handed it back to me. Guaranteed to give you a buzz in your hand. Or your fillings. Or your neighbor's fillings.

#2 Colt 1911A1 - You'd be hard pressed to find another handgun anywhere that has it's reputation. Owners of Tupperware guns (self included) can argue all they want, but it says something about a firearm when it's almost 100 years old and the military is trying to go back to it.

Let it Snow

2008-01-18T14:18:00.001-05:00

Wanna see it bigger? Click here.

300 seconds

2008-01-15T14:04:00.000-05:00

From the Brady Campaign:

Simply put: guns kept in the home for self-protection are more often used to kill somebody you know than to kill in self-defense; 22 times more likely...

I wonder if this was included in the Brady's statistics:

A northwest Indiana woman shot her alleged stalker to death. Police say 41-year-old Ryan Lee Bergner broke into the woman's home in Hammond Monday night. The 51-year-old woman called 9-1-1 and hid in a closet with a gun she had been given for protection. She says she shot him when he opened the closet door and started choking her.

His family says Bergner was a good man. Neighbors say the woman's action is understandable.

"There is no way there should be any charges on her. It is justifiable homicide. She was on the phone with police. They told her exactly what to do. What more are you asking for when some guy's coming at you? I mean, that's defense," said Alison Joseph, woman's neighbor.

From the youtube page, "The woman briefly dated Ryan Bergner. She declined further dates, but the man refused to leave her alone, stalking and harassing her. The woman filed six complaints against him. Then he made the last wrong decision of his life - he broke into her house."

A warning: this is not for the feint of heart. While there is no language in it, it's tough. You hear everything. Every agonizing detail up to this creep's final moment.

"Simply put: guns kept in the home for self-protection are more often used to kill somebody you know than to kill in self-defense; 22 times more likely..."

Apparently so.

Friday Funny: Bad Moon Rising Picture

2008-01-11T08:49:00.000-05:00

My brother-in-law decided that the words just didn't do a previous blog post justice, therefore in all his abundance of time that he has, he manufactured this picture. Apparently, Glenna, I didn't paint the picture well enough.

"Meanest Mom on Planet"

2008-01-11T08:41:00.000-05:00

From Fox News:

Jane Hambleton has dubbed herself the "meanest mom on the planet."

After finding alcohol in her son's car, she decided to sell the car and share her 19-year-old's misdeed with everyone — by placing an ad in the local newspaper.

The ad reads: "OLDS 1999 Intrigue. Totally uncool parents who obviously don't love teenage son, selling his car. Only driven for three weeks before snoopy mom who needs to get a life found booze under front seat. $3,700/offer. Call meanest mom on the planet."

Hambleton has heard from people besides interested buyers since recently placing the ad in The Des Moines Register.

The 48-year-old from Fort Dodge says she has fielded more than 70 telephone calls from emergency room technicians, nurses, school counselors and even a Georgia man who wanted to congratulate her.

I'm just glad to see a parent actually take their job seriously.

Baby Registering Don'ts

2008-01-09T15:20:00.000-05:00

Surely as night follows day, here is the post for things not to register for. What didn't work for you? What collected dust? What did you re-gift because it sounded like a really good idea at the time?

If something worked for you, this isn't your post - click here for the Do's.

Baby Registering Do's

2008-01-09T15:10:00.000-05:00

The baby shower's are a'coming - our bouncing baby boy will be arriving in about 4 months from now. Currently, we have a baby bed and blanket or two, some bibs, and not a whole lot else.

As such, this is the place for you, reader of the blog, to sound off on what you got at showers that worked for you - or what you had to go buy for yourself because what you got didn't work for you. From books to bibs to beds, what would be your best tips for things to put on our registry, and if you feel so inclined (or if it's needed), why?

Note: there will be a separate post up for the don'ts. Let this post just concentrate on the do's.

A Polak joke

2008-01-09T15:03:00.000-05:00

Except, it's real:

WARSAW — A Polish man visiting a brothel was surprised to find his wife working there, Reuters reported.

The woman, who had told her husband she had been working at a store in town to make extra money, Reuters reported.

"I was dumfounded. I thought I was dreaming," the husband told the Polish tabloid Super Express on Wednesday.

The couple reportedly are getting a divorce.

Bad moon rising

2008-01-08T14:15:00.000-05:00

For me, there is just about no more depressing time of the year than right now. Did you notice that pretty much everything Christmas related is gone on December 26th? Maybe it's because retail America starts ramming Christmas down our throats before Halloween decorations are even put out (get out of the way, Thanksgiving!) that causes people to just be "so over" the season by the end of the actual day. I myself, could use a little phasing out of the music and lights. Which might be why I get a little down...

I am Clark Griswold. I welcome the day I get a thank-you letter from the power company. I start putting lights on the house, bushes, trees, and anything else that is fastened to the ground (watch out kitty). And when it's all done, usually in the same week that I give Thanks for turkey, dressing, and peanut-butter pie, I don't just sit back and marvel at the lustrous luminous instensity my house emits in the cul-de-sac - I think of what more I want to do next year.

Sadly, what goes up must come down, and the post-Christmas post-haste cleansing must begin. As when I put the lights out, I take them back down nearly in the same order - the hardest ones to reach on the most dangerous part of my roof are the first to go up and down. Donning my trusty work jeans suitable for roof-sitting and straddling, I grumble my way up to the first roof, set the second ladder, and traverse to the upper roof.

This is the sharpest angle my roof sits at and is completely impossible for me to stand or sit easily on, so I have devised a technique of sitting with my knees tucked nearly under my chin and my feet together. Provided I do my kegel exercises with my rear, I can generally hold myself in one position and turn my upper body to work just over the edge of the roof. Yes, I'm an idiot; but let the record show that I have never fallen off the roof. When my wife's home.

There is, however, a drawback to doing such a thing. Apparently, blue jean material can only withstand so much, and roof shingles tend to be quite coarse. And I have a strong butt. With the title of the post, you can probably see where this is going, can't you?

So there I was, the king of my castle, master of my domain, perched atop the highest vista of my house cautiously going about my business of ~~not falling of the roof~~ taking down the lights when the neighbor's kids came out to play or so I thought. They seemed very interested in watching me; I could only assume that they were awaiting my expected fall or for a gas pocket to dislodge and launch me to their roof. And no, I've never actually done that. When my wife's home.

I finally reach the apex of the house, a place where I can straddle the roof and, using my caboose for balance (told you it was strong) walk on my hands back to the middle of the house where I can stand. And that's when it hit me - the kids were suddenly laughing. Not light giggling or semi-obnoxious squealing, but laughing. I see something you don't see type of funny. I get to where I can stand and that's when it literally hit me - the breeze I'm talking about.

You see, as a man (or even an erstwhile Godly woman with a dose of common sense), you realize that their are places brisk breezes shouldn't touch. Ever. We sometimes call that the nether-region. I call it "anything on the underside of my drawers." That's where the winds were a blowin'.

I reached back, expecting to find the seat of my britches riddled with holes as if Al Capone had just literally ordered a hit on my butt. Only I didn't find it. Not them, it. I didn't find my seat. The laughter was starting to make sense, now. They weren't waiting for me to make a fool of myself; I, myself, was the fool. They had just been witness to a (nearly) middle-aged man's pasty white backside clothed in what remained of my Haynes-his-way with what most likely looked like a thong belonging to Sasquatch peaking out from underneath. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I remembered something...

These are the same pants I wore when putting allll the lights out - all 3450 of them!

SWAT needs a swat

2008-01-08T11:36:00.000-05:00

This angers me on so many levels:

Nearly a dozen members of a police SWAT team in western Colorado punched a hole in the front door and invaded a family's home with guns drawn, demanding that an 11-year-old boy who had had an accidental fall accompany them to the hospital, on the order of Garfield County Magistrate Lain Leoniak.

The boy's parents and siblings were thrown to the floor at gunpoint and the parents were handcuffed in the weekend assault, and the boy's father told WND it was all because a paramedic was upset the family preferred to care for their son themselves.

Someone, apparently the unidentified paramedic, called police, the sheriff's office and social services, eventually providing Leoniak with a report that generated the magistrate's court order to the sheriff's office for the SWAT team assault on the family's home in a mobile home development outside of Glenwood Springs, the father, Tom Shiflett, told [WorldNetDaily].
.............
According to friends of the family, Tom Shiflett, who has 10 children including six still at home, and served with paramedics in Vietnam, was monitoring his son's condition himself.

The paramedic and magistrate, however, ruled that that wasn't adequate, and dispatched the officers to take the boy, John, to a hospital, where a doctor evaluated him and released him immediately.

The accident happened during horseplay, Tom Shiflett told WND. John was grabbing the door handle of a car as his sister was starting to drive away slowly. He slipped, fell to the ground and hit his head, Shiflett said.

He immediately carried his son into their home several doors away, and John was able to recite Bible verses and correctly spell words as his father and mother, Tina, requested. There were no broken bones, no dilated eyes, or any other noticeable problems.

You get the basic gist of the story. The father decided not to go to the emergency room at that time for fear of the bills, something he absolutely has the right to refuse. One of the paramedics gets his boxers in a bunch and calls the police; then social services get brought in; then the SWAT team ~~barges~~ breaks* in. The boy is taken to the hospital where they "didn't find anything wrong with him."

First of all, this absolutely reeks of nanny-statism (Knock-knock: "Hi, we're the government, we're here to help, and can do a better job of it than you can!"). How this snowballed in to a SWAT confrontation with an unarmed (!) man and his family is something I hope the local residents don't let any of the officials involved forget for a long time. And just what did the nice sheriff have to say was his reasoning for sending in the para-military unit?

The sheriff said the decision to use SWAT team force was justified because the father was a "self-proclaimed constitutionalist" and had made threats and "comments" over the years.

However, the sheriff declined to provide a single instance of the father's illegal behavior. "I can't tell you specifically," he said.

"He was refusing to provide medical care," the sheriff said.

However, the sheriff said if his own children were involved in an at-home accident, he would want to be the one to make decisions on their healthcare, as did Shiflett.

"I guess if that was one of my children, I would make that decision," the sheriff said.

But he said Shiflett was "rude and confrontational" when the paramedics arrived and entered his home without his permission.

Not because of stockpiles of weapons and explosives; not because of a history of violence; not because of threats; but because of his political views and he was rude to the men who were not invited in to his house and who kept insisting on taking his son to the hospital even after they examined him and found nothing wrong!!!

*That's right, breaks in, as in the charge breaking and entering. You do know that even the Supreme Court found it illegal for these no-knock breaches to occur? Yet he we are. Just imagine: you're sitting at home on a weeknight, drifting off watching some TV. And then - BLAM! - your door gets kicked/punched in. There was no call-out, no knock at the door. And for those that think it can't happen to them because they don't break the law, think again.

Diary of a Pregnant Woman III: What Not to Say

2008-01-06T13:39:00.000-05:00

"Bend over and hand me that quarter I dropped."

"Would you like another carton of ice cream?"

"It's adorable how you waddle... everywhere."

"Could you massage my lower back? It's killing me."

"Sure you can squeeze through there - just suck in."

"Your shoe needs to be tied."

"Let me see if I can bounce up off of the sofa like you..."

"Did you break wind?"

"How much more do you plan on eating?"

"Are you sure he's mine?"

I am your daddy!

2008-01-04T09:55:00.000-05:00

This nearly brought a tear to my eye:

An 11-year-old boy demonstrated The Force when he defended his mom by hitting an attacker with a toy lightsaber.

The man, in his 30s, fled after being confronted by the youngster outside a bakery in Swardeston, near Norwich, England.

Police said the boy hit the man with his toy after the man had punched and verbally abused his mother as she approached her car.

Officers are appealing for witnesses to the Dec. 22 attack.

Allan Jennings of the Norfolk Police said: "The incident caused quite a commotion and it is unlikely it would have gone unnoticed."

Who knew the Force was strong with a Brit?

Diary of a Pregnant Woman II: Baby-brain

2008-01-03T08:29:00.000-05:00

6:30 - Wakes up singing Happy Working Song
6:40 - Fixes lunch and puts in lunchbag
6:50 - Starts shower to get hot water going; puts in contact
7:00 - During shower, realizes she forgot to put in both contacts
7:10 - While drying hair, realizes that she used to much mousse
7:15 - Not mousse; forgot to wash conditioner out
7:20 - Fixes lunch and puts in other lunchbag when other one can't be found
7:45 - Finds first lunch, eats as second breakfast
8:30 - By miracle of God alone makes it to work; puts second lunch in refrigerator
11:30 - Hungry, need to find lunch
11:45 - Still trying to find someplace to eat
12:00 - gets back to work with a salad; realizes lunch was in the refriegerator
12:15 - eats lunch from yesterday that she forgot
6:00 - arrives home, sorts mail, greets GREATEST HUSBAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD
6:10 - thaws out chicken for dinner
6:15 - checks home email
6:20 - thaws out salmon for dinner
6:30 - sorts mail again, gets deja vu feeling
7:00 - pours glass of water for herself
7:05 - pours glass of water for herself
7:10 - pours glass of water for herself
7:15 - tries to pour a glass of water, but no more glasses
7:30 - alarm on oven sounds
7:35 - husband asks, "what's that beeping?"; pushes timer button on oven
7:36 - husband asks, "was that timing something in the oven"; retrieves pork from oven
8:00 - drinks root beer from bottle with dinner, apparently all glasses are dirty
8:30 - goes to clean kitchen
8:31 - realizes kitchen was being cleaned as she talked to GREATEST HUSBAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD
8:45 - falls asleep in the middle of conversation with GHITWW

My take: Best movies of 2007

2007-12-28T07:40:00.000-05:00

In all the rush of doing other things, seeing movies slipped dramatically down the list of priorities. As it did, so did my reviews of them. So here 'tis, my year end movie review of what I consider to be the best movies worth your time and money (if you haven't already seen them).

First are the honorable mentions. These are movies that, for one reason or another, will most likely not wind up in my DVD collection. Some of them are good, some not so much:

The Departed - Okay, so technicially this was released last year, but I didn't get around to seeing it til this year. Straight-up modern gangster flick that plays out as a cat and mouse game that leaves you on the edge of your seat til the very end. The reason it's not getting added - just too rough of a movie to watch more than once or twice.
Catch and Release - Decent little rom-com-drama, though a little uneven. Worth a rental.
Shooter - kinda blah, full of Mark Wahlberg, who supposedly hates guns, posing as a decorated sniper.
Spiderman 3 - my biggest disappointment of this year. Cool action sequences and special effects, but too much story and the bad guys were given the Batman Forever treatment - too many, too shallow, too uninteresting.
Knocked Up - I didn't like 40 Year Old Virgin. Barely liked this one a little more than that one.
Evan Almighty - Much better than I expected, but I didn't have high expectations. Steve Carrell is a funny, funny man, though.
Ratatouille - Good, but not Cars. Plus, they're rats. In a kitchen. [Body shiver]
Hairspray - it was a choice between this and Underdog. I chose wisely - the tunes are kinda catchy. I just don't go for dancing movies.
Halloween - John Carpenter should unleash every demon, serial killer, and possessed 1958 Plymouth Fury on Rob Zombie for making this turd of a remake.

Next up are the movies that will most likely be bought and watched a handful of times:

Shrek the Third - better than I expected, but pretty uneven. Ending lacks what the first two had.
Pirates: At World's End - far better than the previous installment, though the acid trippy sequence with multiple Capt. Jacks was pretty weird.
Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix - I enjoyed this one at the theater only slightly less than I did the previous movie, but it was still fun. Liked the anti-political-correctness angle, too.

And finally, the three movies that I think are the best of the year, in no particular order:

Transformers - this was a childhood dream done really, really well. They're robots that change in to cars, planes, and tanks and then back in to robots to blow stuff up. What's not fun there?
300 - quite possibly the manliest movie of all time. This movie drips with testosterone from beginning to it's glorious (and bloody) end. Molon labe.
The Bourne Ultimatum - James Bond, meet your daddy.

Times are a-changin'

2007-12-27T12:05:00.000-05:00

For the last half of this year, I have become involved with a group called GeorgiaCarry.Org, a group of firearms enthusiasts who primarily work toward changing Georgia's gun laws. The first question I normally hear when I say that is "Why? Georgia has some of the most liberal and lax gun laws in the nation?" To which I answer: bull-butter.

Surprising to many is the fact that GA's laws regulating firearms carry, sales, and transportation are some of the most strict in the nation, especially astounding for a southern state. California (yes, that California) is less stringent; Oregon, too. In both states, a person with a concealed-carry permit (sometimes called concealed weapon permit) can carry on public transportation, in bars or restaurants that serve alcohol for immediate consumption, churches or other places of worship, entertainment and sporting venues, and college and university campuses. Those are some of the looniest, anti-gun states in the nation... and Georgians are not legally allowed to carry in any of those places.

Furthermore, Georgia has it's own little unique clause known as a "public gathering." Take a minute and think about that - what exactly constitutes a public gathering? You and a buddy in your front yard? A grocery store or mall? City sidewalk? The answer? Well, there really isn't one. Ask a cop, get an answer; ask another one, and you'll get something different; ask a judge, and you'll get a third; and on, and on...

Georgia's laws on firearms are some of the most confusing to read in the nation. Thus the reason for different answers and opinions, even judicial ones. How did it come to this? Enter Jim Crow...

Here's an excerpt from a report written by Michael Menkus, a fellow GCO member:

On September 19, 1868, several hundred blacks and Republicans, nearly all
armed with muskets and shotguns, marched 25 miles from Albany to Camilla Georgia to protest the General Assembly’s expulsion of 32 newly elected black legislators. The elected black legislators were expelled on the grounds that the right to vote granted in the state constitution did not include the right to hold civil office. As the marchers arrived at Camilla’s courthouse, they were ambushed by a posse of white townsmen organized by Mitchell County Sheriff, Mumford Poore. The Sheriff's posse continued its assault on the marchers as they fled into the surrounding woods, killing and wounding them as they tried to escape. One of the fleeing blacks, Daniel
Howard, was struck in the head with the butt of a gun while fleeing. He was forced to return to Camilla where he overheard the whites lamenting that if only the freedmen had come without arms, the whites would have surrounded the blacks and killed them all. Over a dozen blacks were killed and more than 30 were wounded in the massacre.

At the time of the Camilla Massacre, voting age black men outnumbered white men in 65 of Georgia’s 137 counties.18 19 Blacks represented 44% of the population of Georgia. 20 The vision of armed blacks marching into Camilla sent fear into the outnumbered white elite...

With the ratification of the 14th Amendment by Georgia in 1868, the legal construct that blacks were not entitled to the rights of citizenship was destroyed. In response, the General Assembly enacted, in October, 1870, a seemingly race-neutral law that they had intended to apply only to blacks. The law said, “no person in said State of Georgia be permitted or allowed to carry about his or her person any dirk, bowieknife, pistol or revolver, or any kind of deadly weapon, to any court of justice, or any election ground or precinct, or any place of public worship, or any other public gathering in this State, except militia muster-grounds.”

And there it is, the proverbial shot heard round Georgia. Reading the whole article, it starts to make sense how the laws got in to the state they're in now, doesn't it?

It's now time for a change. Yesterday morning, HB915, called the "Second Amendment Protection Act of 2008" was prefiled in the Georgia General Assembly. Simply put, it is a total rewrite of Georgia's gun laws. Less restricitve, allowing permit-holders to carry in places that are already allowed in other states (as a matter of fact, the majority of the bill was written using the exact language used in Colorado and other states). More concise - no hopping around from section to section to figure what's legal and what's not.

If you live in the state of Georgia and have a weapon for self-defense, whether you carry it or simply have it at home, I urge you to do two things. One, join GCO; it's $15 well spent, and it gets used right here in Georgia to support things just like this. Two, contact the state senator and representative for your districts - don't assume it's already been done!

Merry Christmas all!

2007-12-21T19:14:00.000-05:00

Magnificent Spendor - a trip to the Biltmore

2007-12-21T11:28:00.000-05:00

After getting through graduation weekend, the wifey-pooh and I decided to kick the family out of the house (and town) and head for the mountains of Asheville, NC to spend some Christmas time with the Vanderbilts of 1895. While my wife had been when she was younger, I had never been, so the first two words that came to my mind when I saw the house is also the title of this post - magnificent splendor.

First of all, as you will notice in the slideshow, we arrived in Asheville to the beginnings of a rare snow flurry. I say "rare" because everybody we talked to that lived there was surprised to see it. By the time we left the Crown Plaza Resort for our candlelight tour, it was full on snowing (but thankfully not sticking).

The candlelight tour was amazing, and really changed the way the interior of the house looked. Several of the hallways would've been downright spooky before electricity or without a candle; most would've been pitch dark. Alas, you will not find any pictures of the interior in the slideshow - photography was frowned upon. And by frowned upon, I mean they would beat you with a large stick if you snapped a photo.

Outside, however, was a different story. While the nearby gardens were not even close to blooming, the greenhouses bore flora and fauna that were in full and gorgeous bloom. Poinsettas of every different color; palm trees with leaves larger than my (sympathy weight induced) belly; irises, orchids, even "shrimp plants"... all were beautiful and fragrant (achoo!).

A short (but bitterly cold) walk down sat the Bass pond, full of geese and a few ducks. A couple of them were quite friendly guys, probably used to being fed by other bi-peds; apparently, my wife's reputation for "animals don't eat people food" has not reached the mountains. Anyhoo, we hiked and strolled til we could hike and stroll no more in the frigid weather, then made for the local farms to check out the animals.

In all it was really a fantastic trip that I highly recommend anybody to take. Even if fancy houses, history, flowers, and such aren't your thing, there's still plenty more to do including hiking, horseback riding, even a Land Rover adventure course. Enjoy the slideshow.

I'm graduating

2007-12-15T10:17:00.001-05:00

And that's really all I have to say about that.

Heroes

2007-12-11T07:51:00.000-05:00

I started this post as a snarky commentary on gun laws, something to the effects of "who needs a gun at church?"

Then I jumped tracks, recalling Albert Mohler's and John Piper's words regarding women in combat - not to say that I completely disagree with them, mind you; I think they hit some valid points, just not a 100%. They at least make for compelling reads, thus the reason I've provided the links.

I then just decided to let the story speak for itself, for I fear it's one that the media doesn't want to tell. Everybody has heard about the tragic circumstances of the Colorado church shootings, but mostly all that has been heard in the media is that an armed security guard stopped the violent events of that day. While true, it's only a blanket statement; in the words of Paul Harvey, here's the "rest of the story":

Larry Bourbonnais, a combat-tested Vietnam veteran, said it was the bravest thing he's ever seen.

Bourbonnais, who was among those shot by a gunman Sunday at New Life Church, watched as a security guard, a woman later identified as Jeanne Assam, calmly returned fire and killed the shooter.

"She just started walking toward the gunman firing the whole way," said Bourbonnais, who was shot in the arm. "She was just yelling 'Surrender,' walking and shooting the whole time."

Bourbonnais, 59, had just finished up a hamburger in the cafeteria on the sprawling church campus when he heard gunfire, he recalled.

He headed in the direction of the shots as frightened people ran past him looking to escape to safety.

"Where's the shooter? Where's the shooter?" Bourbonnais kept yelling, he recalled.

Near an entryway in the church, Bourbonnais came upon the gunman and an armed male church security guard who was there with his gun drawn but not firing, he said.

Bourbonnais said he pleaded with the armed guard to give him his weapon.

"Give me your handgun. I've been in combat, and I'm going to take this guy out," Bourbonnais recalled telling the guard. "He kept yelling, 'Get behind me! Get behind me!' He wouldn't hand me his weapon, but he wouldn't do anything."

There was an additional armed security guard there, another man, who also didn't fire, Bourbonnais said.

Bourbonnais yelled at the gunman to draw his attention, he said.

"First, I called him 'Coward' then I called him 'S---head' " Bourbonnais said. "I probably shouldn't have been saying that in church."

That's when the shooter pointed one of his guns at Bourbonnais and fired, he said.

Bourbonnais ducked behind a hollow, decorative pillar and was hit in the arm by a bullet and fragments of the pillar.

At about that moment, Assam turned a corner with a drawn handgun, walked toward the gunman and yelled "Surrender!" Bourbonnais said.

The gunman pointed a handgun at Assam and fired three shots, Bourbonnais said. She returned fire and just kept walking toward the gunman pressing off round after round.

After the gunman went down, Bourbonnais asked Assam, a volunteer security guard with the church, how she remained so calm and focused.

Bourbonnais said she replied:

"I was asking the Holy Spirit to guide me the entire time."

A volunteer guard is just a civilian with a permit. An armed female volunteer and an unarmed veteran took this man down. There were three guards on the scene with guns, and the only ones that had the courage to do something about it, that weren't paralyzed with fear, was the armed woman and the man who wouldn't sit by and "let" something happen.

Batting 3rd

2007-12-07T14:55:00.000-05:00

In baseball, it's the manager's job to set the lineup. The general thinking is to put forth the best possible scenario to score runs in the first inning, grab the lead, and hold the other team off. To that extent, each part of the order is usually carefully crafted to maximize the individuals best talents with those of his teammates batting before and after him.

The leadoff man is usually the speedy, but of more importance is his ability to get on base - power isn't necessary, but a good eye and bat control are. The second batter should be as good as if not better at bat control than the leadoff man; his job will be to either get on base himself (should the leadoff man not be able to) or watch enough pitches to give a runner a chance to steal. Guys in this role are table-setters for the ones to follow, and usually have to be pretty cool customers, not panicking when they have two strikes.

And then there's the number three batter, usually the stud of the team. This is the guy most managers want hitting with the game on the line, and they definitely want him getting a swing in the first inning, regardless of who's on base. These guys can be rendered slightly less effective if there's not a scary enough clean-up hitter batting fourth, somebody who may not hit for a high average but usually has the ability to make the pitcher pay if he tries to pitch around the third batter. The rest of the way down the lineup is generally not "type" specific, but a scatter-shot of guys down to number 8 (in the National League), generally considered the Worst Hitter on the team.

In my baseball career (read: little league), I was a nifty little leadoff or number two guy - I rarely struck out and slapped the ball all over the place. I had just enough power to punch the ball over the infielder's head, but not enough to get it past an outfielder. However, I didn't have the speed of some other kids, so I spent a lot of time batting 8th. But that was cool - I knew what I could and couldn't do and didn't try to be something I wasn't.

In the vein of "everything I learned I learned from baseball", I've translated much of my thought process from the diamond to the classroom, especially it comes time for group presentations. In my school career (and when you've done it as long as I have, you can use that word), I've been the first on the dozen or so speeches every time but twice. Grabbing the audience's (or professor's) attention and then transitioning to somebody else has always felt natural to me. I've just always assumed that God gave me a talent and I'd better use it.

This past week, my group had to demonstrate our senior project. Because others in the class were leeching off of smarter lab partners, my professor decided to do individual demonstrations - not the whole group. I was completely okay with this... until I saw that I wasn't first. Nor second. I was batting third. What followed was a masterful plan drawn that could only be drawn up by the Master Coach.

By the time it was my turn to bat, the professor had already seen what worked - now it was time to explain what didn't work, why it didn't work, and what could be done to fix it. I was facing the equivalent of a curve ball, screwball, an Eephus pitch back-to-back-to-back, and I couldn't help but to smile internally. It was one of those moments when the ray of light shines down, showing the path of the ball, and you realize - God has put you there, in that path, for a reason; even though it seems unfathomable and uncomfortable to you that He would do such a thing, He did. And He's right there with you.

I've wondered for years (ten, to be somewhat exact) why God sent me back to school at the age of 26, the age when most people are settling down, getting married and starting families. Why was my life - and to an extent, my wife's - to be put on hold? I'm not sure I've got the answer to that question yet - may never have it. But this past Tuesday, God revealed more to me about myself and Him than I could have ever imagined. His timing and plans are perfect; He sets His lineup to succeed - you've just got to trust Coach.

Friday funny: First Wedding Dance

2007-11-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

Hat tip: Co-worker K

A new "normal"

2007-11-26T14:26:00.000-05:00

First of all, comments and snide remarks regarding the shafting of my blog-life may proceed to the nearest southside of a northbound mule and pucker up. The counter to the right says 18 days til graduation, so I'm knee deep in trying to decide what major to change to now...

Just kidding. Anyway...

G-day impending and all, I've grown quite contemplative as of late. No more sitting in class learning cool new stuff; instead, I'll be sitting at a desk/workbench working on the cool new stuff. While this is a welcome (and long anticipated) change, it is, nonetheless just that. Change.

Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to it. It's just that once you've been institutionalized for the better part of your 20s, you almost take a bit of comfort in being in a school setting, just because it's normal. To looks of disbelief I've been uttering the words "graduate school" and "masters" when people ask about me finally finishing. I honestly find myself not in such a hurry to get home when finishing up the school day, lingering back to chat up a professor, talk to fellow seniors, maybe even offer a tidbit of advice or two to some lower classmen...

Oh, who am I kidding? My last day of class is next Thursday, with one or two finals the week after that. "Move it!" is about the only salutation a chatty prof will get outta me as I burn shoe-rubber to my truck. If another senior even so much as asks how my digital III project is going, then proceeds to tell me that they had their's done the week before classes even started, I will personally make them the first living souls to receive an electronic enema.

And here's a tidbit for the lower classmen - if you see smoke, turn the power off, and for all our sake, replace the component that burned up. They tend not to work well once you've let the magic smoke escape.

There, back to "normal."

Gun-free zones

2007-11-09T15:11:00.000-05:00

Hat-tip: Xavier

Money? Have some buckshot!

2007-11-07T13:51:00.000-05:00

This is just too golden for me to pass up - a guy tries to mug a lady, and then...

A suspected purse snatcher didn't know what he was in for when he picked a woman in a Home Depot parking lot for a victim. As soon as he grabbed her purse, the woman's husband grabbed a shotgun and opened fire.

"I had a board in my hand right here and I thought he was going to beg for money...is what I thought," said Norman. "He grabbed her and I already had that door open so I just grabbed my shotgun."

"The sound of the shotgun and that dude burning off -- it was funny," said eyewitness Freddy Butler.

Butler chased after the accused purse snatcher. who took off running and ended up asking a police officer for help.

"He displays a weapon and it scares the suspect," said a deputy on the scene. "The suspect runs up the police car and saying, 'Let me in. They are shooting at me'."

Police took the suspect into custody.

Hehehe...

Diary of Pregnant Woman

2007-11-02T12:25:00.000-04:00

First of all, if you have no idea what the subject line refers to, go here. Now, then...

The following is truth, from a certain point of view:

2:11 am - wakes up to pee
2:19 am - washes hands and comes back to bed
2:20 am - realizes she's hungry
2:25 am - realizes she's really hungry and the alarm isn't going off for another 4 hours
2:26 am - ambles downstairs for a peanut butter sammich; consumes in two bites
2:28 am - back to sleep
3:57 am - peeing again
4:11 am - wakes up; still peeing
4:14 am - back to sleep
5:45 am - our zoo begins to stir, needing to be fed
5:46 am - wife begins to stir, needing to be fed
5:50 am - animals still hungry, wife has another PB sammich
6:20 am - animals, wife, are fed and happy
7:00 am - with pantyhose half on, ambles back downstairs for a bowl of cereal
8:20 am - arrives at work, 3rd breakfast
10:00 am - midmorning snack
11:15 am - brunch
12:30 pm - lunch
1:45 pm - afternoon tea, or afternoon popcorn
3:00 pm - afternoon chocolate
5:30 pm - leaves work; picks up bucket of KFC for dinner
6:00 pm - arrives home; deposits empty KFC bucket in trash
6:30 pm - supper, prepared by THE GREATEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD
7:15 pm - snack or second helping
8:30 pm - asleep on couch
9:15 pm - asleep in bed

Get up!

2007-10-23T09:41:00.000-04:00

Mike Adams, quite possibly his best column ever:

This summer, I met a fellow named Darrin by a poolside in Wilmington, North Carolina. Darrin had long hair and lots of tattoos so, before I introduced myself, I already knew he’d be a good conversationalist. I wanted to ask him whether it was possible to get sunburned through his tattoos or whether he needed to put suntan lotion on top of them. But it was getting late so we decided to talk about God, Satan, and salvation.

Darrin told me he had gotten saved when he was 13 years old. But things didn’t work out for him after his salvation. He went astray and eventually joined a satanic cult and started getting lots of satanic jewelry to go along with the tattoos. His commitment to Satan lasted far longer than his commitment to Jesus – 24 years to be exact.

Read the rest of it here.

A Cat-less Bag

2007-10-12T14:52:00.000-04:00

I really do have some splainin' to do.

To begin with, if I'm ever doing poetry, something's up! I don't do that. Sure, I'll try to rhyme a little every now and then, but if it's not in some way smarmy, jokey, or jack-donkey-ish, something has gone way wrong. I just don't think that deep. I really don't think that deep about school. I'm a geek, not a nerd.

Therefore, one would have to assume I had just been smacked in the head with an estrogen laden two-by-six for publishing this piece of poetic dredge back in August:

Walking softly
never slowly;
part of me leaving
never this quickly.

Perhaps I will stop,
present a smile;
woefully I go
to again find my way.

Now in these hours
tall days, short nights;
finding my way
til time is done.

Now that makes about as much sense as... well, I don't even have an analogy, it's just that ridiculous. Which was the general idea...

You see, I had a huge secret - a white elephant, if you will. I wanted to shout to the world at the top of my lungs. What secret, you say? Well, for those that couldn't figure it out, here's a hint - it's right up there, just above these very lines. Hidden quite plainly, but cryptically. All you need is the cipher - first letter, first line; second letter, second line, and so on; a period resets the sequence. The answer is here, in invisiotext (highlight to see): we're pregnant!

Shall we play a game?

2007-10-12T11:51:00.000-04:00

My wife and I have misplaced our white elephant. One person has found him - good for you, but don't spoil it for the others. Here are the rules and hints:

No comments!!! We don't want to ruin it for others that might be playing. Email me your specific finding and I'll let you know if you're right or not.
For those of you that are local and know my wife, there is to be no asking her. The penalty for doing so will be a 124 gr. JHP replacing a toe of your choosing.
Our elephant is large. It is also (almost) invisible.
Our large, nearly invisible elephant has only been missing for several months.
He is on this blog; however, that does not mean the only clues to his location are on this blog.
Words mean nothing, but their constitution means everything.

The game will end sometime between now and then, where "then" is equal to a product of the sum of the amount of time I have to put up the post. In other words, all I can guarantee is 24 hours.

My moat

2007-10-04T18:49:00.000-04:00

Soooo...

I come home yesterday and notice my wife has finally granted my year's long dream. I thought "Finally! The ultimate in home security is mine! I will perch myself atop my ivory tower and laugh at all the infidels that circle the cul-de-sac below me! Knowing they can and will not penetrate my fortress!"

What is this you ask? A new gun? A minefield? An ADT sign in my front yard? Nooo....

Ladies and gentlemen - I have a moat.

Here, you will see the primary water source - the Great Geyser of Costliness, wisely embedded under the Drive Way so as not to arouse suspicion:

My moat.

Up close view to discourage unwanted visitors - this is about ~~half an inch~~ 10 feet of water. It has ants. With laser beams. Swimming ants.

Strangely, this man who called himself Amigo from the land of Day Labor, showed up and began digging...

... wherever Sir Crack of the Plumbers Guild of Rooters told him to dig. His other henchmen, Bob, appeared with this deviled machinery. Apparently a siege was forthcoming!

The siege ended without bloodshed, though my kingdom has been branded for all to see:

Alas, the enemy has sapped away my moat. In representation of the day's glorious battle, the Royal Heineyness's begonias sprung back to life. Freaking 10 gallons an hour for about two weeks will do that. Also note the large pile of triceratops poo:

Rinse-lather-repeat

2007-09-28T08:46:00.000-04:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks at school/work/home for me, thus the lack of posting. Every day brings a new challenge, an old one, a frustrating one, and one that shouldn't be there but just is to add to the overall aggravation of things. The primary centerpiece for these challenges is my digital project, for all intents and purposes my "senior" project - an automated pet feeder. For geeky types, I'm having to build it using an 8051 microcontroller and must incorporate a 16-key keypad, two line LCD, analog to digital converter, external RAM, stepper motor plus controller, and whole bunch of buttons, switches, LEDs, and all sorts of other crap to give it that whiz-bang factor ~~Satan~~ my professor wants.

At this point, after one cup of coffee, I'm not sure how I'm going to do that. I'm not sure I'll know after a whole pot of the tar, either. Number of circuit rebuilds at this point: 4.

Just the facts

2007-09-20T07:42:00.000-04:00

I've got to admit, this whole mess in Jena, LA hasn't been on my radar for quite some time. Earlier in the year, I remember thinking to myself that the charges brought against the six black teens were harsh - but I didn't look any further in to it at the time (school and all). Now that it's been thrust toward us in the media, though, I think it's time to separate fact from fancy.

Six black teenagers - Beard, Bell, Bailey, Jones, Purvis, and Shaw - were charged originally with attempted and conspiracy to commit second degree murder for the Dec. 4 beating of Barker, a white teenager. Five of the six were charged as adults; Beard, 14 at the time, was charged as a minor.
All of the charges were reduced: Bell was convicted of second degree battery and conspiracy in June (the conviction was overturned and given to the juvenile court)
The jury that convicted Bell was all white. 150 summons were sent out; only 50 reported for duty. "There is no entry in the juror database for race to ensure that bias isn’t used in jury selection, a court official said."

This is where lines start to blur a little, at least from my perspective of outsider looking in. Interestingly enough, this is where Jackson and Sharpton begin to get involved, too.

In September 2006, a black student "jocularly" asked if he could sit under a tree that mostly white students sat under; this was done in a question-and-answer assembly at the school - not as a person seeking permission. The principal answered that he could sit anywhere he wanted.
That Friday, two nooses were found hanging from that tree. Three students were found to be a part of it, and the prinicpal recommended expulsion. A district committee suspended each of them for three days. Barker, the student beaten on Dec. 4, was not one of those found to be involved.
Only the parents - and some others in front of cameras - have asserted that the Dec. 4 fight was due to the noose incident.

Seems to me that these are two different incidents. Sure, there's racial undertones abound in it, some of it likely quite real - but some of it made up. It's always been my opinion that Jackson, Sharpton, et al. are old soldiers trying to relive the "glory days", times when things they did really mattered and made a difference. In my opinion, though, they undermine the things already done by many before them - Parks, Evers, even Dr. King - by taking events such as this is Jena and blowing them out of proportion, just for another run at glory.

I'm not saying people shouldn't be upset in Jena or around the country about the situation there. Some terrible things have happened - and I'm including the teenager's beating in this; he was beaten unconscious - and justice, in some ways, doesn't appear to have been done - the jury convicted Bell of aggravated battery, which means assault with a deadly weapon; the "deadly weapon" was the shoe!

What I'm trying to say is this: justice isn't (and won't be) served on the basis of half-truths, misdirection, and blurred lines. Folks that dabble in those types of things want their agenda - their ego? - served.

So, what would be justice?

The three who hung the nooses should have been expelled - no argument there. Charged? With what? It's not illegal to do such a thing just as it wouldn't be illegal for a Christian group to post the Ten Commandments on a tree where atheists ate lunch. Tacky and rude, yes. Criminal, no.

The six who attacked the one should be charged as juveniles. I don't buy the conspiracy bit (lack of evidence) and I certainly don't buy the second degree murder nor aggravated battery. Charge them with assault - absolutely. Let them go "free" - hardly.

Phantom of the Fox

2007-09-20T07:36:00.000-04:00

This will mostly be of interest to those local to Atlanta. Did you know that somebody actually lives at the Fox Theater?

Joe Patten sees a side of the Fox Theatre no one else sees — even longtime employees — because for the past 26 years, it has been his home.

Whenever he wants to watch a show, he opens a door in his bedroom, walks through a secret passageway and up 30 steps to his private "box" in the balcony — a former spotlight platform almost within touching distance of the Fox's famous deep blue ceiling with its tiny twinkling-star lights.

Neat read.

Happenings at the Intergalactic Student Center

2007-09-11T10:37:00.001-04:00

Normally, I go for a study room at the library, someplace to escape discussions of Superman's true origins, Batman's place in the superhero world, whether or not Order 66 truly wiped out all Jedi... things of this nature. However, study rooms are hard to come by in the mid-afternoon at Southern Poly, so I ended up in the student center, jacked in with the rest of gen-pop. I've got to say, today, I'm glad I did...

Within the past year, the geek universe that is my chosen university has begun sharing it's campus with Georgia Highlands College. In other words, a whole ton of cute girls have started hanging around the school, most likely not because of the stimulating conversation. Starting this semester, the young damsels of GHC have been populating the student center/cafeteria more; as they are cute girls, or just girls, they travel in packs, like womprats. These packs do not go unnoticed by the herds of nerds; and, being so nerdy and wanting to always quantify stuff, they have timed when said cuties come feast. I kid you not.

This brings me to yesterday. A clan from an untold dimension sits across from me, monitoring and commenting on the comings and goings of all things intergalactic. An Elflord from Downthestairs comes to them with a report: "Uhhh... there's like a whole table of hot Georgia Highlands chicks down there talking to LadiesMan217 about his laptop." A fellowship transports itself Downthestairs, leaving the Elflord and others too afraid to venture forth.

A few moments later, the remaining Counsel are treated to a glorious scene - a Queen of GHC, outfitted in a blue see-through dress, comes in from the harsh climate seeking sustenance. She obviously has traveled far, as her legs tremble with each step in her stylish-and-unaffordable high heels. The Counsel gazes longingly, their eyes following the outline of her ~~way too tight and blatantly visible thong~~ long wavy hair, which she run her hands through, giving them ample sight of her ~~nearly fully exposed busom~~ hand. "Are you done now?" Gorgo, the lone female of the Counsel, sighs as the ~~Devil~~ Angel in a Blue Dress disappears from view. The Elflord, first to regain speaking ability, grunts and returns to the sickly pale glow cast upon him by his laptop.

And then she returns, Coruscant Deathstick pinched between index and middle finger as she once again hobbles towards the cruel outdoors. Shaking his head, the White Mage takes a break from leveling up his ninja to speak to Elflord: "Dude, she's hot." Blue Dress, pretending not to hear such speak, in fact does (as does everybody else on the upper west side of Atlanta), and proceeds to crack a smile as she attempts to run her hand through her hair again, hoping to incite more...

... and then she fell, tripping over her until-now-unseen two left feet in stilletos, her shoulder hitting the floor first, with her legs absorbing most of the recoil and bouncing up. While wearing a dress. And other stuff.

My initial instinct is to quickly hold up a sign that displays "9.5 - stuck the landing!" But then, my gentlemanly self overrides and I start to offer a helping hand... when a wormhole opened and geeks from all other dimensions appeared. Wizards, elves, Jedi, Starfleet Captians, two pirates, and a dude in an AC/DC shirt that was in the wrong place at the wrong time all converge on the scene, hoping to ~~get a peak~~ offer a helping hand to the Queen, still sprawled on the floor, lying still. Or, as my Grandma used to say, playing possum, hoping this too shall pass.

Order is thusly restored, Queen Blue Dress deciding that today is not the day to continue her Deathstick habit. The scouting party returns from the nether-regions of Donwthestairs, asking questions of the commotion heard. The Elflord, having been blinded from being in the prime seating position to watch the queen's downfall, ignores their question: "I'm going back to my room," he says as he quickly moves off, cables from his laptop dragging behind him. Gorgo sits, thoroughly satisfied with the outcome of the situation.

Three words

2007-09-07T15:13:00.000-04:00

Tissue warning...

T-minus 100

2007-09-06T09:31:00.000-04:00

Today is the 100 day mark until I graduate. I just thought you'd all like to know.

Oblivions II: Rise of the Obliviots

2007-09-06T08:47:00.000-04:00

You've been there before. We all have. You're in a theater enjoying a movie or a play. You've already seen and heeded the polite request to silence your cell phones. Sure, inevitably one goes off, things are mumbled about the person's mother or something about bamboo reeds and fingernails, but if the movie is truly good enough, you soon have your attention redirected and no longer care about the Oblivion that can't find the off mode of their electronic ball and chain.

Then, below and to the side, a large firefly appears. Then another. Then another. Soon, what was once darkness only lit by the flicker on the screen is awash in a pale blue glow of cell displays. Thinking it is simply the death screen as they are being switched off, you ignore it... til you realize they're not going away. They're texting. Everybody.

You've just encountered an Obliviot. This is a special kind of oblivion - a person who walks through their daily life with no idea whatsoever that they are surrounded by other people. Obliviots are a hybrid; part normal, reasonable person, and part oblivious idiot when combined with a cell phone. Separate the two, and after the withdrawal period (that can include tears, death threats, and the shakes) they revert to their normal semi-productive selfs.

Fellow blogger (and gun-nut) Xavier recently had a run-in with some Obliviots while attending a play:

Last night I suffered through a play in which I was surrounded by cellphone users. No less than five were on either side of me and in front of me, yakking into the damn things, text messaging into the damned things, and ruining the experience of the theater for everyone around them. That theater held over 300 people. I have to wonder how many cellphone minutes were used during the time that these morons had paid to see a play. A play is supposed to be a means of escaping the drudgery of one's life. Why would anybody even consider going to the theater and talking on a cellphone the entire time? What was so damned important that those calls could not be avoided?If the matters were that important, then why did the person stay at the play and yammer into their link to their pathetic little worlds? Why not leave and go take care of the problem?

He then goes on to offer this dead-on assessment, that I'm not going to censor (contains mild language):

No, in our hedonistic Paris Hilton wannabe wonderland of self indulgent egotistical bullshit existence, digital dialogue has become an emotional crutch, a reminder that a person exists, that a person matters, insurance that a person's life will not run away without them if they step away for a while. It's a pathetic ego stroke for the co-dependent ranger, who cannot exist for a couple of hours without contact with the mothership. Hell, today 10 year old children have cellphones! Who is paying the bills on this stuff? Who is making the money? Why do people think they need it?

Believe it or not, there was a time that people, even children, ventured forth without electronic umbilical cords. People took vacations to get away from their telephone. They got away from their house. They went places with people they loved, spent time with them talking face to face, and they built enduring relationships rather than cellphone debt. What have we become? We have been sold a false bill of goods, a surreptitious nihilistic bill of goods, and our society is lapping it up like blind puppies lapping up antifreeze. Cellphones do not bring us together, No. They drive us apart. They do not build society, they destroy the possibilities of functioning in a society without them. For one day, if you are a cellphone ranger, turn it off. You will live.

Name change

2007-09-04T08:35:00.000-04:00

In a previous post, I published the recipe to our version of homemade chocolate ice cream, dubbed "Better Than a Wendy's Frosty." As of this past weekend, I have been informed that we must change the name...

... Award Winning Better Than a Wendy's Frosty!
(Note the addition of the exclamation point. Oh - and the fact that it won an award!)

Last weekend, my wife and I entered our home churned goodness in Miss Mary's Ice Cream Crankin'. This is an event put on by the Drake House, a sort of halfway house for homeless mothers and their children. Our church has been involved with the women there for a few years now, and this has always been one of their biggest fundraisers.

Only one problem with the day - it rained. Hard rain. Scaring away most of the people who were eating ice cream rain. Nevertheless, we knew we had something good going when our's was the first churn emptied. However, no awards were announced, as most people had fled to their cars once the lightning started popping.

Fast forward to this past Sunday morning, and a fellow Sunday School member greets us with "Congratulations!" I looked at my wife - "Hmmm... is there something I should know?!?" - but then thought better of once I saw her confused glance. Taking our seat, we opened the bulletin to see the announcement: The Drake House had raised $35,000 at the Crankin'... and we won for the best chocolate!!!

I shot Jack Bauer's gun

2007-09-04T07:44:00.000-04:00

This past Sunday was my first ever shoot with the group at GeorgiaPacking.org, a group I've been involved with for some time. After church, I tucked my little wifey-poo in for a long afternoon nap and off to Bulls Eye Marksman I went.

The way this works is everybody that has guns to share sets their stuff up on the table at each lane. Then, you basically just wander back and forth until you find something that you want to try.

This being my first trip to an indoor range that allows shotguns, the first I tried was a Remington 870 with #00 buckshot - essentially, the most effective manstopper load ever devised. I will say this, though - the "point in the general direction and pull the trigger" advice that generally comes with shotguns is not advised. At about 20 feet, the spread was only four inches around. Point is - aiming is still quite necessary.

After this and running a few mags through my own Walther, I looked down at the bench I was at and noticed a nice, big Colt King Cobra .357 Mag. Solid gun, built like a tank; shooting medium powered factory loads was pleasant, relatively speaking.

I moved a lane over and tried another friend's Sig GSR, another one that was built to withstand a nuclear blast. Capping off round after round of big ol' .45 ACP was downright enjoyable, though ironically I had less accuracy with this than I expected. Almost alarming considering I grew up shooting a 1911 style pistol instead of a ~~brick~~ Glock.

And then, the Precious called to me. Seven lanes away, amongst all other manner of hot rain flinging itself downrange, I heard it beckon me. A light from heaven opened into the range and shown upon lane 6. I stepped my way down cautiously, through the firings of Sigs, Beretta's, even another Walther, until I reached the source.

Jack Bauer's gun - an H&K USP Compact. The target knew no mercy. The mag practically loaded itself. The first mag I put through it, all single-action, all target sighting; every round touched a kill zone. I'm not that good of a shooter; it's that good of a gun. Natural pointer, good sight picture, a recoil spring that must have been fabricated by God - I really didn't feel a thing.

The second mag, I decocked for the first round, wanting to feel the double-action trigger pull. Apparently, H&K forgot to put it in - aside from the extra travel length, it felt exactly the same as the single-action. I finished the mag, having jerked one round out of the kill zone. I think I heard the gun growl at me for doing so. I put Jack's boom-stick down, and backed away.

Honey, I've added a new gun to the list.

Other guns tried:

Walther P22 - the baby brother to my P99. Apparently picky on ammo, but a joy (and cheap) to shoot. Very accurate for only having a 3.5" barrel.
CZ83 - an old Bond gun clone. Not bad, but I think at this point I prefer the Bersa if I'm shooting .380.
Glock 31 - this was my first time shooting anything chambered in .357 Sig, and it was really a pleasant experience - even if it was a Glock.

Friday funny: Ninja vs. Monk

2007-08-31T12:47:00.000-04:00

Normally, I find some random joke somebody sends me, something that has been around for years, worked on, tweaked, etc. This time, a news story just fell in to my lap that is so over-the-top stupid, I decided it deserved this spot. Get ready - you may need to put your head in a brace before reading this to cut down on neck pain (from headshaking).

China's Shaolin Temple has demanded a public apology from an Internet user who claimed a Japanese ninja beat its kung fu-practicing monks in a showdown, a lawyer said Friday.

To be honest, I'm not sure why all this gnashing of teeth is taking place. Jack Bauer could beat them all down. With his eyelash.

Shadow puppets

2007-08-29T12:24:00.000-04:00

This is cool.

Hat tip: lilmd

Poem

2007-08-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

Walking softly
never slowly;
part of me leaving
never this quickly.

Perhaps I will stop,
present a smile;
woefully I go
to again find my way.

Now in these hours
tall days, short nights;
finding my way
til time is done.

Adam's disease

2007-08-24T13:28:00.000-04:00

From here on, I'm dubbing this kind of stuff Adam's disease:

A security video from an apartment hallway shows at least 10 witnesses ignored a woman's cries for help for more than an hour as a man beat and sexually assaulted her, prosecutors in Minnesota said.

The surveillance video clearly showed men and women looking out their apartment doors or starting to walk down the hallway before retreating as the woman was assaulted for nearly 90 minutes, police spokesman Tom Walsh said.

Police said they responded to a call of drunken behavior and found Somali immigrant Rage Ibrahim, 25, and a woman lying unconscious in the hallway early Tuesday. The woman's clothing had been pulled up and she had fresh scratches on her face and blood on her thigh, according to the criminal complaint.

If you haven't figured out which Adam I'm talking about:

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Genesis 3:6

I've heard the phrase "too many chiefs, not enough indians" used many times. My question now is, where are all the chiefs? One person is all it would have most likely taken to put an immediate end to this.

We've been conditioned, as a society, to do nothing. To sit back and let somebody else (usually government) handle the mess. How sad...

Will they print me?

2007-08-24T12:40:00.000-04:00

In yesterday's AJC, the lead editorial was about the recent over-turning of a gun ban in Kennesaw city parks. Maureen Downey writes:

GeorgiaCarry.org is a pro-gun group with a dangerous agenda that would appall most Georgians: It wants gun owners to be able to strap on their pistols and bring them to church, to county commission meetings and to your child's Little League game. It wants bans lifted on guns at bars, political rallies or even at the annual Georgia-Georgia Tech showdown.

Its Web site does not mince words: "All we want is to be able to move freely about our society, welcomed by our community as armed men and women."

To that end, a GeorgiaCarry lawyer is threatening suit against communities that ban guns from parks for protection of the children who play there, including Kennesaw and Coweta County. GeorgiaCarry.org argues that only the state can regulate firearms and that any local ordinances outlawing guns in parks are illegal.

Kennesaw capitulated to the group's demand, rescinding this month its ordinance banning the carrying of firearms in parks. While the Cobb community vows to fight the issue in the Legislature, it would have been better off to have followed Coweta County's example and taken the dispute to court.

She goes on to cite two things in her pro-gun law piece - a 1999 FBI report on crimes involving guns and a case in South Atlanta (not quoted above, click on the link to read the full op-ed). I had already made my decision to submit some sort of rebuttal, but that AJC limits (or prefers that you limit) letters to the editor to less than 150 words. Therefore, I submitted the following (and have yet to see it printed - not holding my breath):

Concerning the recent editorial regarding Kennesaw's efforts to ban guns in their city parks, I offer these rebuttals.

The writer cites a case involving a gang shooting in a Clayton county park. Does the editorial board really think that gang members care whether or not they can have a gun at a park or anyplace else that firearms are prohibited? Only law abiding citizens will obey the law and thus disarm themselves.

The writer also cites a 1999 FBI report (killing in self-defense), but not all self-defense uses of a firearm end with the criminal dead. What about the case in Memphis in July of last year, when an armed citizen stopped a knife-wielding robber without ever firing a shot? Surely this case would count as a proper use of a firearm in self-defense, yet it would not be recorded or reported in the FBI's report because the perpetrator was not killed.

If something turns up in the weekend papers, I'll definitely add it.

Friday funny: Scared Soldier

2007-08-24T12:12:00.000-04:00

Rated G, from Rev. Gordon:

Chelsea Clinton recently went on a tour of Baghdad. As she was being led around by an officer, she asked him, "Aren't you worried about your safety while you're over here?"

"No," he replied.

"But don't the suicide bombers and the insurgents scare you?" She continued.

"No," he said.

She persisted, "Surely, they must scare you a little."

He stopped and looked her in the eye and said, "Miss Clinton, there are only three things in this world that worry me, Osama, Obama and Yo' Mama!"

My Code Monkey

2007-08-23T16:38:00.000-04:00

I'm posting this in honor of finding a programmer for my senior project. Rated PG-13 for one bit of language (that could have been left out) and lots of ogling.

Misawa's Musings

Letter to my Son: Baby Steps

As the idiot walks

But, it's for the children!

The Topless Coffee Cafe

Do the right thing

Women Drivers

Now batting... Lil' MD

Change? Really?!

100 things

No smoking!

When you come to a fork in the floor...

Get Satisfaction

On the new President...

Caveat emptor

Let's catch up

Bear with me...

Good dog

So long, my couch potato pal...

Oblivions III: The Blue Fool Group

Family pics

Get'em Granny!

My take: The Dark Knight

I am Charles Bronson

Just your garden-variety, public school-going-to-hell-in-a-handbacket story

Now batting

You'll shoot your eye out!

Oh the inhumanity...

Farther down the rabbit hole

What I'm... May 2008 edition

What's wrong with some people?

The Purpose Driven Blog

Atlanta!

Headfirst into first

Best homerun trot ever

Hello World

The Big Show - Live!

It's time

Are you ready?

Of Men and Swine

I'm Swamped

A Student with a Gun: My Response

Fly Me Friendly

Again with The Rules

Letter to my son: Grandpa

Things Not To Say During Childbirth

Weird things I do

Rules of the Royal Throne Room

Wear your 6" stilletos on Sunday morning

Letter to my son: Hopes

We are Borg

Much ado

Ch-ch-ch-changes!!!

Inner Workings

Public Service Announcement: Guns

Top 10 Manliest Firearms

Let it Snow

300 seconds

Blogroll Additions and 9-pack

Friday Funny: Bad Moon Rising Picture

"Meanest Mom on Planet"

Baby Registering Don'ts

Baby Registering Do's

A Polak joke

Bad moon rising

SWAT needs a swat

Diary of a Pregnant Woman III: What Not to Say

I am your daddy!

Diary of a Pregnant Woman II: Baby-brain

My take: Best movies of 2007

Times are a-changin'

Merry Christmas all!

Magnificent Spendor - a trip to the Biltmore

I'm graduating

Heroes

Batting 3rd

Friday funny: First Wedding Dance

A new "normal"

Gun-free zones

Money? Have some buckshot!