Interpreting the sniffles...

In the land of small children, someone is usually crying, just about to cry or recovering from a cry.

In a way, I’m jealous. Sometimes it just seems better to cry than throw something or yell.

In fact, I think most things a psychologist treats…anger management, fear, alcoholism, etc is just people that would have been better served by being told it was okay to cry. In fact, I hear that is what they tell you during counseling.

But the world frowns on crying.

I don’t know why, though. Some say crying is a show of weakness, but it’s obvious everyone is weak in some area.

We are so conditioned about this that we don’t know when we should or shouldn’t. A loss of a loved one sure, but what about a Reese’s Cup that you left in the car and now it is stuck to the paper? Or dropping a frosted mug full of beer?

It’s somewhere in between (depending on how thirsty you are or how much you like two great tastes that taste great together, I guess) but my point is that most people judge crying appropriateness based on when they would cry or how old the crier happens to be.

I guess this makes everyone an expert.

Thanks for nothing...

My glasses are crooked. They don’t line up evenly with both of my eyebrows, which is soon to be just one eyebrow unless I get some professional grooming done.

Years of the kids ripping them off my face and one day of tripping over a Lego castle have rendered them cockeyed.

I can almost get them straight if I put the left side up on the side of my head about a half inch above my ear. But this only works until I move my head or the wind blows.

I went to the eye doctor and asked the technician to fix them. She did and handed them back to me. I told her they still weren’t straight.

“Yes they are,” she said. “But let me see them again.”

She fiddled with them for almost three seconds, handed them back and sternly told me that they were fine.

I said thanks and left.

One more thing to check off the list...

I got invited to play basketball with a group of guys last week.

As I found out, basketball has changed in the seven years I didn’t play.

Back when I played, when you beat your man to the basket, he didn’t hit you in the back of the head or grab your arms to keep you from scoring in a PICKUP game. But now, apparently there is a great deal of shame in letting a 41-year old white guy score on you. But if you assault him, you keep your dignity, I guess.

Also, the current offensive scheme of choice is to dribble around until you can’t score or shoot from some impossible distance or angle and then stop and look around to pass the ball. Gone are the days of looking for someone to cut to the basket. So, to sum up, it’s four guys standing around while one guy plays offense.

And the guy with the keys to the gym takes the most shots, tells you who to guard and monopolizes the basketball.

Unless I find some “old school” guys that play, I’m going back into retirement.

One month wonder...

The Egg Nog people are back in business.

I guess it would be interesting to have a business that had only one profitable month per year. It just makes me wonder what they do the other months. I contacted them and they wrote me back.

Dear Sir:

We keep quite busy during the non-egg nog months. Here is a list:

January: I survived the Obama Inauguration T-Shirts
February: Dating service for NFL fans who lost their wives/girlfriends during the season
March: Selling green dye to Irish Pubs
April: Busing Earth Day participants to rehab
May: Picketing against Horse Racing
June: Reviving the interest in Flag Day
July: Two words: Global Warming! (Northern Hemisphere Project)
August: Back to School Concealed Weapon Certification Classes
September: Bringing back the true meaning of Labor Day Campaign
November: Busing Earth Day participants to the polls to vote for Proposition 215 in California

We take October off.

Sincerely,

And look both ways before you cross the street...

This morning my car displayed the message "Ice Possible, Exercise Caution."

Next I suppose it will tell me to slow down, to not make a cell phone call or maybe it will ask me what I'm thinking.

I don't need this.

Right below the ice warning is a readout that says the temperature. I'm aware of both the Fahrenheit and Celsius benchmarks for freezing and can deduce that temperatures reaching this area are conditions that may allow for ice. So telling me that ice is possible...not necessary.

What I need my car to tell me is if there is a cop around the corner, if the Outback has a 45 minute wait and to remember to stop on the way home to get milk.

But this is the direction the world is headed, I guess.

I'd write more, but I have to go ask my car if my coat matches my tie.

I’m not maintenance free, but at least my hair is again.

Thoughts in the barber chair...

I may be wrong about this, but it seems pretty correct that the one defining thing about a man’s character might be his hairstyle.

Long hair…hippie…possible drug use. Democrat

Short hair…job…family...thinks lying to a grand jury is a crime...Republican.

Pony tail…independently wealthy or extremely unconcerned about public opinion. Independent, of course.

Now all of these have exceptions, and if you are one, congratulations.

My current hairstyle is the kind that doesn’t need combing and gets people to ask me how long I have been a Marine.

It takes about five minutes for the local barber to complete it. This way, I don’t have to talk at length about the government, the weather, or football. It’s not that I don’t have opinions on these things, but I don’t like to argue with a man that I can't see that has scissors in his hand.

And if you are insulted by the generalizations made in this post, you probably are due for a haircut.

My common cold...

It’s cold in here.

I’ve never been able to escape the cold. Even when I lived in the tropics, I was often cold riding to work in my golf cart (without a windshield) or when it rained.

I’m cold sitting at my desk writing this post. I was cold getting out of the shower this morning. I’m still working on an invention to get my (dry and heated) towel without having to open the shower door.

Half of my showering time is standing under the hot water, trying to get up the courage to shut off the water. The other half is wishing I had two more shower heads aimed at me.

This morning, the car was really cold.

I got a coat. I ordered it online. It said with a “light layer” on the coat would keep me warm at temperatures down to 20 degrees Fahrenheit (or about minus 7 Celsius). What I didn’t know that the “light layer” needed to be a layer of neoprene. It hasn’t gotten close to that yet around here and I’m still cold..

With a “heavy layer,” they said my coat would be good down to 5F (that’s minus 15C). I should have known this was a lie. I have NEVER been comfortable in five degrees Fahrenheit. No matter how many layers I had on.

Pearls before swine...

I thought of a new word (or phrase) this morning, so when I had the opportunity, I just blurted it out.

Now, I’ve got to say it to everyone in the house. Say it to Daddy, say it to Grandma, say it on the phone to the lady from AT&T.

It kind of kills my creative juices when I have to constantly repeat myself. And it’s not like I’m splitting the atom. All I said was, “I wan dat!”

And while they marveled and asked each other, “Did you hear him?” they failed to give me what I was asking for in the first place. I’m not talking just to entertain these people, I really wanted the gravy ladle. It makes a great noise when I hit it on the kitchen cabinets.

But my voice cries out in the wilderness sans response. Why am I even talking to them? Sure I’ll say it again…but do you mind listening for a change?

And when I do something really fun, like pour Gracie’s milk on the kitchen table, no one asks me to “do that again.” It’s really kind of frustrating that my best work goes unappreciated. But, this is the life I have chosen…the path less taken.

I’d write more, but I have to go tackle Grandma.

Sure, he's great...which one is he?

We got a Christmas card and photo today from a family that I see every week at church and it was a good thing because I had forgotten what they looked like since Sunday.

What I needed was the kids names. I don’t have a clue. The only one I know the name of is the kid that said “poo-poo” (I’m still unsure if there was malice intended, but it hurt her feelings) to Gracie. I’m keeping an eye on him. He may need his something or other kicked soon.

The other kids in the photo haven’t sworn at me, stolen my property or done anything extraordinary or very interesting, so I don’t know their names.

If they came up to me an introduced themselves, fine. But otherwise, why should I be responsible for knowing their names? Am I to sneak around and try to overhear it from their friends or parents? And parents just talking about their kids doesn't help me recognize them...it's not a newscast with b-roll (tv lingo)...it's more like radio with a bad play-by-play man.

I know kids are special to their parents and I am no less proud of mine than the proudest of the proud. But I don’t expect mine to be special to you.

But if you’ve got one I need to meet, send him/her over. I don’t bite.

Psst...I got something to tell ya...

The cops are going to sit and try to catch people drinking and driving near Pleasant Run Road on December 20 from 9:00 to 11:00 pm.

This isn’t some inside information I have, this is public information. The cops came by today and asked us to announce it.

This, I’m told, is how it is done. It’s the law around here, the cops have to make it public where they are going to be. I guess somebody sued (and won) once upon a time.

But, I don’t suppose it does any harm to the law enforcement effort. I guess if you are out drunk on that night, it probably slips your mind that the cops are going to be waiting for you at that spot. Or maybe these people listen to other stations. I don’t know.

I’d like to figure out how to make some money from this, but I think selling the information (instead of just announcing it) might be illegal. And I have no idea where they’d be hiding to try to catch me doing that.

Today's Post or What I Did in Between the Weather and Sports

I almost read Thoreau’s Walden or Life in the Woods once.

My senior quote (for college) I quoted Thoreau…”Whoso be a man be a non-conformist.” Then I found out that a few others used it too. I guess I should have used, “Yikes and away!” by Daffy Duck.

Anyway, I’ve always appreciated that Thoreau named his book both “Walden” and (or if you prefer) “Life in the Woods.” It gave the prospective reader a chance to size up what the book was about before deciding to read it.

This needs to be done for a few more books.

David Copperfield or Over Three Hundred Pages without a Point by Charles Dickens
Moby Dick or The Cure for Insomnia by Herman Melville
Oliver Twist or Over Four Hundred Pages without a Point by Charles Dickens
Crime and Punishment or Just Punishment if You Read it by Fyodor Dostoevsky
My Life or Even a Dirt-Bag Can Become President by Bill Clinton
The Leatherstocking Tales or Even the Teacher Won’t Read This by James Fenimore Cooper
As I Lay Dying or What I Write Now that I’m Famous and have no Quality Standards by William Faulkner

And finally, I wish to announce I’m changing the name of my blog to: Cayenne Lemonade or The Painful Results of the First Amendment

If I don't post tomorrow, you'll know what happened...

I may have mentioned this (or not) but I do the daily news here at the station. It’s about 15 minutes or so on a good day…but today it may be all of five minutes unless something happens soon. And three of that will be commercials.

The sports teams don’t play until tomorrow night and I did the Tuesday results yesterday. Even the weather is boring.

I drove around town for a bit, but saw nothing. I stopped at the convenience store and got a Pepsi and some beef jerky. I went to the barber shop and eavesdropped for a few minutes.

Still nothing.

When I got back to the office, the top stores remained:
1. A local charity is offering pictures of pets (yours) with Santa.
2. The Fire Department is giving away smoke detectors and batteries.
3. The post office is open.

I may have to go out and commit a crime.

Now that I'm back from washing my hands again...

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be obsessive-compulsive.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

I’ve often wondered about this.

Tabula Rasa...

I won't pollute the blogosphere with bad posts...well, not today that is...

These were my best ideas/things for today...and I'm not going to write about them, as they are not up to the quality I've come to expect from myself.

I saw a cat cross the street yesterday....
John really likes to close the dishwasher....
The carpeting is off green or maybe is it blue? I can't decide...
I work in an office with wood paneling...
Salt and vinegar potato chips make my fingers feel funny...
Is BBQ a word or an acronym?
My printer is out of ink....
I can't always remember the difference between the "star" and the "pound" signs...
and
Why is it so hot in here?

If I come up with some real ideas, I'll be in touch...

And of course..."you'll shoot your eye out, kid"

I saw for the first time (this Christmas season) last night the movie, “The Christmas Story,” the one about the kid that wants a Red Rider BB gun so bad it’s killing him and his quest to get one for Christmas.

The movie has so many funny scenes and it is quite quotable.

“My dad was a turkey junkie…”, for instance.

Anyway, I have a friend that loves this movie. I worked with him for a few summers and even that far from the normal viewing time, we still laughed about it.

He’s in prison now and won’t get out until 2013 or so.

I’ve always imagined prisoners as being ruthless haters of all things good, like puppies and good (mostly) wholesome entertainment. I’ve had to change my mind about that. He made a mistake that will cost him his freedom for a while.

I hope he gets to watch it this year.

Deja vu...

Seven or eight years ago, when I lived in North Carolina, my boss asked me to write down all the things I did at the office, in order to ensure that I wasn’t being overloaded.

I told him that I’d like to, but I didn’t have time.

(it was a joke…he laughed)

See you tomorrow.

Scott has gone where the fishes is....

I was leaving an office supply store/bookstore today when I saw a familiar sight.

It was a sticky-note that said: “Back in 5 minutes.”

It wasn’t on the door, but next to the door, where it would be handy in case the owner needed to step out for a minute (or 5). It’s a common thing in a small town, with businesses having just one or two employees.

The reason it is such a familiar sight is that we have quite a few of these (in waiting) at the station. We have, of course, “back in 5 minutes” and the “back in one hour” for when we go to lunch. We have our cell phone numbers posted on the door in case of emergency.

Sometimes we need a note on the door even when we are here, such as an “on the air” and “ball game in progress” so people will know not to barge in on us while we are doing the news or when we are in the control room running the board (radio lingo).

We have the “office closing at 2:30” the “office closing at 3:30” and the rarely used “office closing at 1:30, if it opens at all” sign.

There’s the “went to the post office” (it’s across the street) and the “getting a haircut” (it’s across the street also). The idea is that if someone needs to talk to you, they can cross the street and find you.

My father-in-law used to have a nifty rhyme about going fishing on his office door a couple of days per week. Something about the grass has riz. (meaning risen...a sign of spring)

A few more will cover everything...I'm adding:
“Ran out for a Pepsi and a bag of Chester’s Flaming Hot Fries”
“Paying speeding ticket at courthouse”
and the occasionally necessary….
“Toilet Seat Down!”

And that 106 I rolled on National Television...

I’m having a writer’s block.

(Or maybe I’m not a writer and this could be called a radio station owner’s block)

It’s snowing outside right now and I could write about the first time I drove in the snow. A guy had started up a hill and then tried to turn around and got stuck across BOTH lanes. I saw him as I crested the hill. The guy in front of me slid into the ditch. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop my 1977 Plymouth Horizon down such a steep hill, but crashing into the guy’s truck helped me stop about halfway down.

This month is Christmas and I could write about the bowling ball I once got for Christmas and all the high games I rolled with it until an ankle injury ruined my dreams of a professional career.

Today is Monday and this could jog my memory of the Monday I went to a bar and watched football.

But I guess I’ll write about Gracie finding out last night that her favorite food “chicken” and the cute little animal called a “chicken” are in fact, the same thing, at different steps in their "life." This may change her dietary habits for a little while.

Sports report...

MY HOUSE, USA – __________________ was benched after the first half of Thursday's portion of marriage and parenthood following a miserable performance in which he committed three gaffs and failed to produce any thing of worth for his family.

_____________________ was caught napping during a Food Network show, allowed the kids to play in the mud and did nothing when the kids wiped their noses on their sleeve, all of which produced a miserable 13.2 husband and parent rating.

Thursday’s performance marked the second straight week of sub-par play. One week earlier, he forgot to replace the toilet paper in the bathroom, left a banana peel on the kitchen counter and answered “huh?” when asked what he was thinking.

To begin the second half, ________________ was replaced by a Veggie Tales DVD and a Dora the Explorer coloring book.

“We think he needed a chance to step away and get some focus,” said Coach __________________, “We don’t know about next week yet. Too early to tell.”

Don't worry, I found the beer...

I was in the grocery store yesterday trying to buy some smoked summer sausage to go with crackers and cheese. I've got a coupon for an angioplasty and I need to use it before 2010.

But I couldn't find the summer sausage. The grocers always keep them on an end cap or somewhere different (and they keep moving them around) in the store because (I guess) they think smoked summer sausage is an impulse buy.

While this may be true, I had the impulse when I got up for breakfast, while I was brushing my teeth, while I drove to the office, while I was at work, and when I pulled into the parking lot of the store...and I couldn't find it. I walked up and down every aisle. When I have had this problem before, I would ask someone (usually an employee of the store) but they wouldn't know either. So I have quit asking for help.

Eventually, after a complete tour of the facility, I found them near the bread, combined in a display with crackers and cheese whiz (ugh) and a big paper mache turkey. It wasted a good 20 minutes. This is usually how it goes.

This has to be fixed.

After all, it was one of Obama's promises, wasn't it?

Bring your lunch...

A group of people from here are heading to Washington, DC for the swearing in of the new President of the United States on January 20.

They plan to join the estimated 4 million people who will cram into the Mall area to see history being made, I was told.

(I think the historical achievement may turn out to be the successful sale of the $5 per-use pay toilet and the $14 hot dog/chip combo…not necessarily in that order)

Four million people (and a lot less, actually) scare me to a significant degree. I don’t even go to Taco Bell when there is more than one person waiting in the drive-thru.

Good News!

Washington, DC— Warren Buffet announced that the so called “recession” that has gripped the country will soon end, as he will put back into the economy the 4.5 billion dollars his maid found in his pants pocket while doing the wash.

“I went out with some friends and had a beer or two,” he explained, “I guess it just slipped my mind when I got home.”

He added that he looked behind his dresser and even in the ash tray in his car before his maid told him that she had the extra money in the mason jar in the laundry room.

“I knew I had that extra cash somewhere,” the 68-year old investor, businessman and philanthropist said. “It was just a matter of asking around to find it.”

“I mean, it’s stupid to think there isn’t money out there,” he said while putting back the cushions on his couch, “It’s not like the money went somewhere…somebody has it to spend.”

Working with kids...

A young man (five years younger than I) said to me yesterday, “But of course, I’m younger than you.”

He said it as a dig, to perhaps let me know that he had a better life because he was born later than I was.

I don’t understand this. Never have. So far…I’ve gotten to live more, do more, have more fun, recover from more mistakes, drink more beer, etc than this “young’in.” Why would I mourn this? And as I’ve noticed, there is no guarantee that he will ever get to be my age.

So, as far I’m concerned, I’ve already got to do what he is hoping to get to.

And of course, my advanced years makes me smarter (and wiser) than him also.

I guess I'll stay at the station...

I watched the movies, “Rounders” and “21” in the past few weeks. They are both about card players, one a poker player and the other in blackjack.

They were brilliant at their craft and very successful but their success was immediately followed with a beat-down (blood all over the place) and robbery of all they had that left them dead-broke and desperate. One of the beat-downs even came from the cops.

This has dampened my idea of going to Vegas (or Tunica) and winning a bunch of money.

Prophet without honor...

Now that basketball season is here, I remember one game very well from high school.

In the locker room before the game, the coach came in and announced we would lose. We were better than the other team, he explained, but we weren’t going to play well. He didn’t really say why.

And this was the extent of his pre-game preparation, to tell us that we were going to lose.

He was right. We lost.

Obviously, he’s not the coach anymore (he only lasted one more season). And what he thought he was accomplishing that night will always be a mystery to me.

And of course, Mr. Boston’s Guide for Coping with Small Children

Last week, Random House contacted me to write a book that includes ideas on parenting. I am currently considering a few ideas:

Play-Doh…The Enemy Within – In this science fiction novel, the combination of flour, salt and vegetable oil join forces to permeate every possible nook and cranny of the house of an unsuspecting couple.

Just Buy Two of Everything (or one for each kid)– For parents without the sense to have at least seven year intervals between children.

I Thought YOU Said it was Okay – Helpful answers to avoid being blamed for crayon marks on the wall.

Sorry, I Wish I Could – A list of creative (never repeating) projects to start (or continue) when you smell a dirty diaper, are detailed.

Can You Just Eat Half of Them? - Parents learn negotiation tactics from Retired SWAT Team Members.

Mo Dat – Translation of common phrases for new parents.

Why Me? I Didn’t Give Him the Carrots – In this book, Mom and Dad decide on how to divide daily tasks.

I rented "Expelled"...

I was in the video store last night and I saw a video game called “Scarface, The World is Yours”

Now, as fine a movie as I’m sure this was (the only thing I know about it is the line about his little friend…maybe it was Sleepy...or Grumpy...or one of the Smurfs, I don't know) I couldn’t image how the video game version would work. So I picked up the box.

The label had this warning: Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Strong Language, Use of Drugs, Sexual Themes

Ok, first of all, how do you use drugs in a video game?

And the box had more reasons to buy this game:

“Beat down, blow away or run over your enemies with Tony’s signature style and flair.”

“Bury those cock-a-roches in blind rage mode!”

“Experience the lavish lifestyle of a crime boss. Hire henchmen to do your dirty work.”

Um...who would I be rooting for?

Or watched Oprah...

Saturday I went to the drug store and bought a bunch of stuff to “cure” my cold.

I’m not an “ounce of prevention” guy.

To me, an ounce of prevention is only worth a pound of cure if your experience is that you are sick every 15 days or less. With me, the pound of cure beats the 180 or so ounces of prevention and allows me the peace of mind of not worrying like crazy each and every day that I’m about to get sick.

Also, I never really think about how lousy illness is until I actually have it.

The medicine I got is mostly stuff that just puts you to sleep. I should have just rented Godfather III.

I have a few home remedies that I use…the one with the spoon, salt and water is one of my favorites. The one I’m still afraid to try is the spoon, cayenne pepper, water and a vacuum cleaner with the hose attachment.

Doing what you love and loving what you do...

Each time Gracie tries to build a castle out of Lego blocks, John likes to join in. Usually his efforts are a bit more destructive than constructive. It’s just a reflex. He’s trying to play too.

So today Grace the Architect was working about 10 minutes at her latest creation, when John the Building Inspector made his appearance and knocked it flat, throwing blocks in three different directions.

The Architect screamed and cried. The Building Inspector retreated from the scene…but this time with not just the emotionless face of a man doing his job, but with the smirk of a little boy who really is enjoying it.

It’s official. The game is on.

The Haircut Fits. Now.

I always wanted to be a Marine. Still do.

The idea of a team that didn’t break up, no matter what, appealed to me. I wanted to be part of something like that.

I liked the “truth” that the guy in the movie said I couldn’t handle. (even if he was the "bad guy") That there were ideals that rose above “me first,” things like “honor” and “code.”

But at the time I was age-eligible for the “corps,” I was about six feet tall and weighed 125 pounds and was, at that time, 0-fer in fights in my life. And I couldn’t swim very well. And if Riddick Bowe couldn’t do it, what chance did I have?

This seemed to end the possibility of my career as a jarhead. But mentally, I was there.

As said (by a different guy in a different movie)…a man’s got to know his limitations.

And then there's the one about the guy with a blog...

I have about three ideas for a novel per month.

Sometimes they are just fleeting ideas as I’m lying in bed trying to go to sleep. I usually fall asleep before they get developed. This lets me know they aren’t very good ideas.

But I have one idea that I have been thinking about for more than 10 years.

It’s about a guy that lived all over the country as a child. In his late 20’s, he begins to hear stories of his childhood friends in each town being murdered. As quickly as he figures out what is going on, he is under suspicion, seemingly framed for the murders.

What I haven’t gotten to yet (in my development) is who is framing him. Is it a conniving wife? A jealous friend? A local golf professional? Or just a coincidence?

His only chance is to try to find the truth. But each day he searches for the killer convinces the cops that he is the guilty one.

So many questions to answer, so little time…Will he find the killer? And if he does, can he prove it? Is the guy at the local deli using Miracle Whip instead of Mayonnaise?

And why is he hooking his tee shots?

What you write after you spend all day at the hospital...

When I was 12 or so I went to a birthday party for a kid from my class. When I got there, the house was empty except for a couple of other friends. His mother was drunk hadn’t planned anything. (His father wasn’t in the picture…never met him)

That night, we played pool and had a good time. It wasn’t until years later I found out about his mom that night.

The next month, his house caught fire. He stayed at my house for a couple of days while his mom found a new place to live.

The old place was fixed and he moved back in. A year later it exploded one day while he was at school.

And yet through all this hardship, he was a fair-weather friend and a backstabber. He wouldn’t hesitate to sell someone out or short if it benefitted him.

And whenever I think about this, I end up not knowing what to think, really.

More filling...tastes great

I used to joke that the lottery was a tax on people who couldn’t calculate odds. 

Also, I used to joke about the odds were less that you would win the lottery than the odds that you would be struck by lightning…twice. 

To which my lottery-playing colleague would say…”obviously, if you never play.”  He had a point. 

I’m seeing the lottery stuff when I buy (not quite daily, but close) Pepsi and bag of Chesters Hot Fries.  I’m not sure that I’m really playing the odds correctly on that one.

The Tennessee Lottery has about 10 different ways to win…or lose.  I can’t seem to figure it out.  And the guy behind the counter in my convenience store of most convenience doesn’t seem interested in helping me out.  He looks like the kind of guy that would try to talk me out of buying a pack of cigarettes instead of just reaching behind and grabbing the Marlboro Lights. 

I’m actually a little leery of the whole thing…I feel like the second I handed over the money to the clerk, the cops would jump out of the shadows, slap cuffs on me and lead me away. 

The Pepsi and bag of hot fries lasts for about a half an hour and all I feel is a little fire in the belly for my $2. 

I assume the lost dollar wouldn’t be as filling.   And my taxes are high enough.  

It's raining right now...I'll be right back...

I have two problems with our garage.

First of all, I have to remember to raise the garage door BEFORE I back out in the morning.

This was a problem recently. But I think the small dent on the back of my car, the panic that hit me when I heard the crash (I’m still having flashbacks), the embarrassment involved with the whole thing, and the small dent on the garage may help me remember this for a few weeks at least.

The other problem is that the car is always dirty due to the fact that the car doesn't sit outside anymore.

I have always been a Calvinist* as to the cleanliness of the outside of my car...i.e…when God wanted me to have a clean car, it rained.

But now that I have a garage, I may have try to keep the car clean in my own strength (and worry that my car may lose its cleanliness at any time) and make the switch over to Arminianism.*

Or I could alternate days that I park it inside the garage (thereby knowing what would/wouldn't have happened if I had/hadn't parked it inside/outside) and become a follower of Monlinsim.*

*Calvinism: http://www.answers.com/topic/calvinism
*Arminianism: http://www.gotquestions.org/arminianism.html
*Monlinism: http://www.gotquestions.org/molinism.html

Internet Milk Carton...

SPONTANEOUS DISAPPEARANCE
The Stupid Scholar

Aliases: Billy Joe, The Secret Smoker, Hey You There with the Beard

DESCRIPTION

Date of Birth: Early 80’s

Hair: Black
Place of Birth: Maryland

Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'10"

Sex: Male
Weight: Unknown

Race: White
Occupation: Academics

LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUTS

The Stupid Scholar was heard from on August 26, 2008 on his blog when he posted something about free time and then on September 6, 2008 a link to a video saying, “This is what I want to be when I grow up.” He has not been seen since. He has not posted. He has simply vanished.

A search of D.C. area bars and taverns is being conducted. Be on the lookout for a man fitting the above description mumbling in greek and hebrew.

You can tell people you heard it here first...

I’m sure it’s a big rush for songwriters or performers to hear their song on the radio or to hear someone singing along with the lyrics.

So when Gracie was singing “If I had some pepperoni” last night, I was very proud. John even sang along.

I composed this little ditty one night (a night we weren’t eating pizza, strangely enough) in the living room during the time between mid-afternoon and dinner. It even had a dance that went with it. And months later, we still are heard to be singing it upon occasion, although now usually right before bedtime.

Here are the lyrics…

If I had some pepperoni
I’d be a happy guy

If I had some pepperoni
Why…I’d feel like ten-feet-high!

Pepperoni, if I had some
My life would be complete

Pepperoni, if I had some
Beet, beet, beet, beet, beet

Enjoy. If you decide to mass market it and make a bunch of money, please send me my cut.

Enjoy it while it lasts...

New York, NY-- The producers at Fox News, CNN, and MSNBC have announced that they will sit on their sets and just stare in silence at each other for the next three weeks.

“We’ve got nothing to report or say,” said CNN News Executive Bill Walden. “Not until the next election starts, that is.”

Hillary Clinton, Mitt Romney, whoever loses today, and others are expected to announce their candidacy for the 2012 Presidential race in the next few weeks and will travel to New Hampshire to begin campaigning in January.

“The most important election of our lifetime is 2012,” said one candidate. “For me, that is.”

One more time I should have kept my mouth shut...

During dinner I was daydreaming (about how I should have posted something last Friday about Halloween and how the Democrats must have invented the idea of going door to door getting handouts) when I realized that there was a protest being lodged by Gracie regarding green beans.

We told her she didn’t have to eat them. She likes green beans, but tonight was different, she told us. She didn’t want to eat them. Fine, we said.

As a kid, I was kind of a picky eater, and hence, Holli and I don’t have a “sit until you eat it” policy at our house…it never made sense to me that I was still sitting at the table two hours after dinner because (in my opinion) the food was lousy.

Mom worked during the day and as she reminded me often, it wasn’t “running a restaurant” nor was she a “short-order cook.”

One night I (without much thought to what it might mean to my immediate future) said, “Yeah, no kidding!”

The response I got to this statement wasn’t laughter. I can’t really even laugh about it now.

For $724 per month, you too can be uninsured...

Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Tennessee has denied coverage of our attempts to alleviate 10 or so years of pain for Holli with surgery.

So…

REQUEST FOR BID #25-06 October 30, 2008

We are seeking bids for the removal of the family uterus.

1.0 GENERAL INFORMATION:

1.1 Definition of Parties: We will hereinafter be referred to as the "we” or “the family." Respondents to the request shall be referred to as "Bidders." The successful bidder shall be referred to as the "Doctor” (hopefully).

1.2 Evaluation: Award will be made to the low bidder, provided that all other requirements are satisfactorily met, such as a medical degree from a medical school and an operating room.

1.3 Costs of Preparation: Bidder assumes all costs of preparation and any presentations necessary to the bidding process as well as all costs necessary to complete the job.

1.4 TV and Radio Broadcast Rights: The family will retain all rights to broadcast, re-broadcast or otherwise publish any information or footage from this event.

It was a four-foot scotch pine...

When I was in college (I tend to label the years between high school graduation and college graduation as such, and it’s only a minor violation of the truth) I got into a war of nasty practical jokes with a guy we’ll call Bill.

Bill had a girlfriend…that had been the girlfriend of a good friend and he kind of stole her away from him. I don’t know why this angered us (the friends of the guy) so much, but we were mad at the both of them (the girl and Bill).

One day at the Dairy Queen, I said so to a friend of hers. The news got back to her and she told her boyfriend and he came to see me. After about 10 seconds, I told him to get out of my house. Unbeknownst to me at the time, a friend of his was letting the air out of my tires. It was officially now 2 on 1.

So I got two friends (to make it 3 on 2) and we borrowed letters from signs around town and left him a message at a convenience store near his house. I don’t remember exactly what it said, but it wasn’t “have a nice day.”

We take time out from this riveting story for the Real Country Music lyric of the day.
Cook me up some bacon and some beans.
And go out to the car and change the tire.
Wash my socks and sew my old blue jeans.
Come on, baby, you can fill my pipe,
And then go fetch my slippers.
And boil me up another pot of tea.
Then put another log on the fire, babe,
And come and tell me why you're leaving me.

Back to the saga…

He then put a dead animal in a box and delivered it disguised as a Christmas present to my house.

So my two friends and I did the only thing we could do. We planted a tree in his yard. We got a tree out of the woods and went to his house in the middle of the night and planted it.

A few months later, he and his family figured out that they didn’t know how the tree got in his yard (they each thought the other had planted it).

We had gotten the last shot in, but he didn’t even realize it for months.

And that ended the war. I guess our response was so weird that he couldn’t think of a way to answer it.

One more thing I shouldn't write about...

Every once in a while I have thoughts on this subject, but I don’t have the guts to write about it but about once every year or so.

Warning: I’m going to quote the Bible here. If this isn’t your particular cup of religion, I’m sorry and will try to quote from the Koran, the Book of Mormon, and the Fargo, ND phonebook (in order to balance things out) at a later date.

Anyway, this is from Genesis 3:16, the part where God has kicked Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden:

“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children…”

Now this seems like a bad deal for the woman…and I’m sure it is. I’m not claiming I understand.

But my problem with the “Curse of Eve” is that there isn’t more information given. Given the opportunity, I would have liked one more sentence added:

“And thou shalt sweetly endure this curse and knoweth that thy dear husband is joyfully making a most sincere effort to make thy existence every bit as lovely as thy true beauty unequivocally deserveth.”

Obviously, this would have helped. But, as I believe the Bible to be the Inspired Word of God, I don’t believe leaving the clarification out was a mistake…and certainly not as big a mistake as I am possibly making right now.

The reason why I couldn't get a job in advertising...

Bud Light has a new ad campaign that says the great thing about their beer is, quote, “Drinkability.”

This is it? That you can drink it?

So I hear that this beer is drinkable (and by the way, I don’t think it is) and immediately I am convinced to purchase it against the thousands of other beers out there with ad campaigns that contain more information than "it's a non-toxic liquid"?

We take time out for the Real Country Music lyric of the day…
By the county line the cops were nipping on our heels
Pulled off the road kicked it to 4 wheel
Shut off the lights, tore through a corn field
What was I thinking?
Out the other side she was hollerin, faster, faster
Took the third road had the radio blastin
Hit the Honky Tonk for a little close dancin
What was I thinking?

Anyway, this brilliance is from same people that for 10 or so years milked to death the idea that everyone who might be trusted to bring you a beer was hard of hearing and that Bud Light was preferred as a beverage over a lamp, headlight, searchlight, spotlight or flashlight, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

And don’t get me started on the “More Taste League.” More than what?

It takes five quarts of 10w-30....

Don’t get me wrong, the hospitality and caring nature of Southern women is a wonderful thing. If someone is in the hospital or the cable goes out, a group of ladies get together and bring over a casserole.

I believe this tradition started before it was discovered you could microwave hot dogs.

And while I love tradition, I think we can tweak this a little. So I have composed a letter.

Dear Ladies,

I very much appreciate your willingness to help with food while my wife is in the hospital. However, I believe your charity could be focused somewhere else that would be more useful at this point. Below is a list of things we would love your help with during our time of difficulty.

1. There is a lot of debris in the yard from the last seven or eight storms we have had. If you could bring a wheelbarrow and a truck, I don’t think it would take you more than two or three hours.
2. I’m going to go watch Monday Night Football at the Buffalo Wild Wings this week. The kids need to be bathed and in bed by 8:00. I’ll be back around 11:30 or so.
3. Change the oil on the car.
4. I think there is a dead raccoon in the crawl space under the house. The cover-alls (if you don’t have your own) are in the hall closet.
5. The day you come, call me when you are on the way…I may need you to pick up a six-pack of beer.

Again, thanks for thinking of us in our time of need.

Sincerely,

Following the People for Fewer Telemarketers meeting...

The Citizens against the Post Office just had an impromptu session.

It was decided they could raise their rates at any time (who do they think they are?) and they do stupid things, like send mail 200 miles away to then send it back to deliver it to only 20 miles down the road.

They put mail in the wrong boxes. They have hours that a banker would envy.

The Citizens against the Post Office was formed when I was a small child when members of the committee worked somewhere that dealt a lot with the local Postmaster, who happened to be the father of one of my friends. At a certain point, the Citizens against the Post Office made it uncomfortable for me to play wiffle ball on a regular basis at their house.

As the meeting continued, the Citizens against the Post Office related recent stories of incompetence that complaints by the Citizens against the Post Office eventually led to the local Postmaster calling a member of the committee nasty names that the minutes of this meeting dare not reflect, due to the family-oriented nature of this blog.

This cemented the harsh view of the post office that the Citizens against the Post Office still harbor to this day.

After the room calmed down, the committee adjourned, announcing that the Group for Better Service at the Drive Thru Window would be meeting in a few minutes.

Angus Young and the Restless...

I heard the other day (and I wasn’t listening) that AC/DC is about to release their first album in eight years.

This came as a surprise to me. I would have guessed more like 20 years. I guess three guitar chords can be reworked a lot of different ways.

When I was an impressionable youth, these guys were the definition of evil in music. They were the one of the groups cited as evidence that music had gone straight to hell. People packed into churches to hear horrible lyrics and backwards devil-filled coded messages.

They were horrible drug abusers and womanizers, we were told. It was our duty to burn their albums (along with our Dungeons and Dragons books) and save our souls. Now they are the subject of video games and guests on the Martha Stewart show.

All of this makes me wonder, who are the bad guys now?

Can you hear me now?

I’m sure this has been covered by someone else, but I was too busy answering my cell phone to notice.

This “on-call” 24 hour-a-day thing has got to stop. There are no more areas (that I can find) that a cell phone won’t work. Now, you either answer your phone (no matter where you are) or someone will think you are ignoring them. Or you are in the bathroom.

(I suppose this is how my wife could know if I’m drinking enough fluids)

I draw the line at the bathroom, but there are some out there who will answer two calls at the same time, if you know what I mean.

If this is a part of your particular lifestyle, do me a favor and try to keep it a secret. Don’t flush. Don’t use the air dryer or pull down the paper towels from the dispenser.

I just don't want to know.

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in...

Back when I gave golf lessons for money, I felt like a crook.

Thirty-percent of the people wouldn’t work on what I told them. They didn’t believe me afterward that what I told them would make them better (when it didn’t work EVERY SINGLE TIME…and nothing works every single time)…and sometimes they probably were right.

Twenty-five percent couldn’t do what I told them they needed to do. Their body just wouldn’t do it or they didn’t have time to work on it enough to make a change.

Another twenty-percent didn’t understand what I told them (sometimes my fault, sometimes theirs) and they worked on the wrong thing and didn’t get better.

Twenty more percent just wanted someone to watch them hit balls and listen to them talk about their golf game. Kind of like a therapist that only says, “I see…”

This kind of personal attention is how a lot of golf pros get fired, by the way.

But five percent listened, worked on what I told them and got better. I have a few people that I actually took from one place and got to another place, a better place.

But 100% of them paid. This type of con game (although it wasn't my fault) began to wear at me, so I swore I’d never give another golf lesson.

This worked out until today (at 4 pm…only an hour from now)…if you have any advice to give me on how to have a better attitude about it, I’d be happy to:

1. Listen and ignore it
2. Or just listen
3. Or listen and try to do what you tell me and fail
4. Or listen and do the wrong thing to correct it

Just let me know.

It's who you know that counts...

The basketball hoop is finally up.

In difficulty, it was somewhere between the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima and the building of Tower of Babel.

A few weeks ago, when I thought I could do this without the aid of the Army Corps of Engineers, I had the first pole put into the ground during the driveway paving. I then consulted the directions and realized that I was never going to have a basketball hoop, just a 4-foot pole in my driveway to taunt me and a box full of parts in the garage taking up space.

The directions were like the prophecies of Nostradamus…easy to see what they meant after you got it done, but not very useful in predicting what to do before it happened.

But into town rode a hero. We’ll call him Rick, mostly because that is what his name is. He read the directions and said he thought we could do it.

After a few detours and a couple do-overs, it was complete. The directions called for three capable adults. Rick was two short, but his leadership pulled us through.

We celebrated by shooting a few baskets and I congratulated myself on knowing someone like Rick.

I'm also the General Manager...

The Governor of our state was here this week to endorse a political candidate running for state senate. As it was news, Mr. News at Noon attended. And as it was a chance to make some money, Mr. Sales attended.

As a member of the media, Mr. News at Noon declined to wear a sticker on his shirt endorsing the candidate or take two signs for his yard, one of them for the candidate and the other for the Presidential candidate of this particular groups liking. He even declined the hot dogs, chips, cookies and coca-cola that was offered to him.

Mr. Sales ate 4 hot dogs, two bags of chips, drank three cokes and put on as many stickers on his body as possible and took a sign for both his yard and his car.

Mr. News at Noon met the endorsed candidate, shaking his hand and smiling.

Mr. Sales, upon meeting the candiate, hugged him and asked him to purchase ads on his station. Your opponent has ads on our station, Mr. Sales explained, and the candidate wouldn’t want to miss out. Any good candidate (with a chance to win) would want to participate in the political process in this manner, Mr. Sales explained, speaking rather quickly.

Mr. News at Noon recorded the press conference and didn't change expression or clap as partisan views were expressed. Mr. Sales got on a picnic table, stamped his feet, whistled and cheered loudly at every possible chance so that the candidate could see him.

When the speeches were over and the hot dogs were gone, Mr. News at Noon packed up his stuff and walked to the car, dragging a waving Mr. Sales behind him.

The adventures of Scoop Jones, radio reporter...part 1

5:12 pm – Scoop departs home to cover the 5:30 pm City Council Meeting.

5:13 pm – Scoop feels hunger pangs and begins running through options for a quick snack as free food and drink is not offered to members of the media at City Council Meetings.

5:15 pm – Predictably, Scoop pulls into the KFC Drive-Thru and waits behind a Ford Explorer. His keen eye for detail tells him that he is fourth in line overall, second in line to place his order.

5:16 pm – Scoop orders a two-piece chicken (leg and thigh) and biscuit with a medium pepsi to drink. Answers “original recipe” when asked. Readies $5.38 for payment. Pulls ahead.

5:18 pm – Scoop pulls forward to window and pays with three $1 bills and $2.38 in change, including 28 pennies. Receives dirty look from cashier.

5:19 pm – Gets order and pulls into the street. Considers opening box, but shows patience.

5:22 pm – Arrives at City Hall. Decides to eat chicken leg. Uses first napkin.

5:23 pm – Decides to eat biscuit. Checks clock. Drinks pepsi.

5:24 pm – Decides to eat thigh. Drops it in his lap. Uses most of second napkin. Checks glove box for more napkins, with no luck.

5:25 pm – Finishes thigh. Leaves one-half of the biscuit in the box. Cleans original recipe skin from pants and car seat.

5:26 pm - Licks fingers.

5:27 pm – Uses rest of second napkin and part of an old newspaper to finish cleaning pants and car seat. Uses rear-view mirror to inspect teeth. Worries rest of pepsi will be water-logged on return, decides to drink remainder.

5:28 pm – Belches loudly. Exits car.

5:29 pm – Enters City Hall.

It was sunny with a high of 81...

Flu Shots.

I know I’ve had the flu a few times in my life, but I don’t remember a specific instance, besides the time that it was viral encephalitis.

(of course, the time it was viral encephalitis, it WASN’T the flu, it just had the symptoms of the flu)

However, on Friday August 12, 1977 (I was 10 years old) I went to the doctor with my mother for a check-up for school. It was noted at the time that I hadn’t had my tetanus shot.

So with no concern for my immediate safety (and no protest from my mother) the doctor pulled up the sleeve on my blue shirt, got out a needle the size of an industrial-size caulking gun, jammed it into my arm and held it there for four or five minutes (it may have been quicker than this, but this is what I remember) before pulling it back out and giving me a band-aid and a grape tootsie-pop.

My arm hurt for about two days. I remember lying on the couch that afternoon with my arm dangling off watching the Cubs play the Phillies on WGN. The Phillies jumped out and scored 3 runs in the second inning and 4 runs in the third inning and went on to win 10-3. I remember my arm throbbing as Steve Carlton got the win for the Phillies while Rick Reuschel took the loss for the Cubs. Frank Pulli was the home plate umpire. The attendance was 28,849.

And my arm kept hurting that night when we had chicken casserole with biscuits. It smarted while Gabe Kaplan guest hosted the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. I remember the guests were Roy Clark, Tom Smothers and Susan St. James, who talked about her career now that McMillian and Wife had been cancelled.

It remember that it hurt the next day when I went outside to get the newspaper. I found a penny (it was heads up, 1974 D) on the way back up the driveway, but it didn’t stop my arm from hurting.

And as I said, I don’t really remember having the flu.

I think I’ll take my chances.

Staring at the ceiling...

What are two words in the English language that sound like a letter of the alphabet, but doesn’t have the letter(s) it sounds like in the spelling of the word(s)? 

Did you know that your IQ can be divided by your shoe size? 

Did you know that if you buy a bookcase (unassembled) for under $20 that you probably need to assemble it about two feet from where you will leave it forever since it will break into tiny pieces when you try to carry it up the stairs…all because you wanted to assemble it in the living room and watch football at the same time? 

Did you know that a basketball hoop with directions that call for three capable adults shouldn’t be purchased by someone who needs 45 minutes to assemble a bookcase? 

Did you know that people who claim to have 13 fool-proof ways to get a good night's sleep have at least 12 ideas that don't work?

Heads I win, Tails I get reimbursed...

I played blackjack at the casino over the weekend (they have a great day-care) in Tunica.

The first hand a guy next to me got a jack and an eight. The dealer had nine showing. He decided to hit on the 18.  He got a three! Winner!

I took that as a sign of what would happen to me and kept hitting if I had less than 19. 

Eventually, I lost all of my money, including the $21,543 I got advanced on my credit card.

On my way out, I stopped by the office and told them I’d gambled and lost everything. They said they were sorry and gave me my money back.

They told me that this happens all the time and they were more than happy to give me my money back since it was really their fault that they advanced me the money in the first place to play games that you could lose money at if you took stupid risks.

Good thing. Betting all that money when I couldn’t afford to…what were they thinking?

Nick 'em at night...

I think it would be fun to rob a bank.

First, you have to decide whether you do it at night or during the day.

If you do it at night, you got to figure out how to get in (and get out) and there are all kinds of things to stop you like alarms, guards and the safe. You’d have to make sure you didn’t leave fingerprints or look at the cameras…or maybe you could disable the cameras or pipe cartoons into them or something.

The nighttime thing sounds kind of like when we used to sneak into the gym at night to shoot baskets when I was in high school. It was fun. It may have been more than half the fun.

The “at night” plan also works better in that the bank can (if they don't want to look for you) just keep quiet about losing all that money and blame it on bad sub-prime lending or de-regulation.

If you do it during the day it seems like there are a lot more problems without the fun of crawling inside an air-conditioning vent.

Sure, you get to walk in the front door, but you almost always have to take hostages and that never works out…not even very often in the movies. You have to have weapons and someone might get hurt. This compounds your problems should you get caught or even get away. They tend to look harder for you when someone got hurt.

And the “during the day” plus of using the front door to get in (and hopefully out) doesn’t outweigh the annoyance of having to schedule bathroom breaks, order food for everyone from the hostage negotiator (keeping in mind kosher or vegetarian concerns) or having to choose between the pregnant lady and the man with the heart condition to release in exchange for a bus to the airport or pepperoni on the pizzas.

Also, I don’t want to have to deal with people while I’m working…if I wanted to deal with people, I’d skip the bank robbery and get a job in the golf business or a job selling radio advertising or something.

Hope they don't have caller ID...

Yesterday I called a bunch of people to try to get them to buy advertising on the radio.

This is my first week of doing this, but I figured if I could sell (or take rejection at the rate it was likely to come) this week, the rest of my sales life would be easy.

I read a few books on sales. My favorite was, “How to sell when you’d rather throw up on your shoes.”

I practiced my sales pitch for a while before I called.

“The reason I was calling was that I, I was hoping you might want to maybe give a thought, if you have a second, to perhaps buying some advertising on the radio. If you don’t that’s okay, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

I’m only exaggerating a little.

This is the same slickness I used when (attempting) dating. I’d call and hope she would show me some mercy and let me take her to a movie and get an ice cream cone afterward. I’d hope for a goodnight kiss, but was willing to settle for her not to laugh (out loud) when I leaned in.

Some people were polite and some weren’t. Some bought and some didn’t. Today I’m going to try to talk to everyone the first time they answer the phone instead of hanging up half the time.

Or maybe I’ll start that tomorrow. Or next week.

One last gasp and cough for vocal maturity...

I hear my voice on the radio all the time now.

I do the weather, the news, and ballgames and I’m comfortable with what it sounds like, for the most part.

I interview people. I have this bad habit of starting a sentence when I have no idea what I’m about to ask, but it usually works out…in the end…when I…finally figure out why…I started to…talk.

I also do advertisements for all kinds of stuff. This is where I have a problem sometimes.

Certain kinds of ads are okay, like one’s for the local auto parts place. But I had to do an ad for an investment firm recently and I don’t think my voice measures up.

The copy is about planning for the future. It calls for a fatherly tone and a calming influence that tells the listener that retirement is for the long term and don’t worry, you’ll be just fine with Investment Firm X. But my voice is sounds more like the guy who tries to convince you to liquidate your 401K and buy a deep-sea fishing boat or to go to Vegas and enter the World Series of Poker.

A friend of mine in college had a great radio voice. One of his theories was that voice quality was helped by smoking cigarettes.

(If you ever were in a radio station during the 60’s, 70’s or 80’s, it would be hard to argue anyone disagreed with that theory…it also seemed the theory involved keeping alot of old coffee cups around with the station logo on them)

But anyway...if you need me, I’ll be around back having a smoke.

It's the thought that convicts you in front of a jury of your peers...

Yesterday, I went to the store to buy an anniversary gift for my wife…because yesterday was our anniversary.

Sometimes I buy them early (earlier in the day, that is) but my tardiness made the gift no less important, even if I was in Wal-Mart.

Years ago, I had been counseled to buy jewelry and jewelry only for gifts but today was going to be an exception. Mostly because I was in Wal-Mart.

I selected a huge chocolate bar (expensive chocolate is better than cheap jewelry), a card and a bag to put the card and chocolate in.

As I put my items on the conveyer belt, I noticed the man behind me in line was buying a big piece of thick rope.

I guess he’s been married longer than I have been.

No score and 7 years ago...

I have a porch swing that needs to be hung up, but I haven't bought the frame yet.

The swing used to be on the porch in my wife’s parents house.

It's sitting on our back porch, holding a dead plant. It's had more important tasks.

The first time I ever sat in it, I had just met Holli. We did a lot of complaining that night to one another, each with our own problems.

I’d visit every once in a while and we’d sit in the porch swing and talk. Even when it got really cold, we’d sit out there for at least a minute before I’d go home.

And when I proposed marriage to her, we were sitting in that swing.

When watching concrete set up IS exciting...

We’re getting the driveway paved (complete with basketball hoop) tomorrow and I can’t wait.  

So I’ll be able to… 

Shoot baskets whenever I want.  And since we have a light on the outside of the garage, I can do it at night too.  Now, the kids will all play at my house.  I hope Holli can make lemonade and cookies when they come over. 

Ride my big wheel as fast as I want, slam on the brakes and spin around.

Bounce my superball straight up in the air and it will just keep bouncing, forever and ever. 

I hope the kids like it too.

Can't wait until John gets older...

This offering is not immoral, but could be in bad taste
So if you are fearful of offense, please leave now in haste

But wait! Don’t leave before the Real Country music lyric of the day:
I've read somewhere statistics show
The man's always the first to go
And that makes sense 'cause I know she won't be ready

Still there? Well, then, here we go…

I’ve been accused of a crime that’s a century (or two) old
And I’m certainly innocent, my denials are bold

But with her “j’acuse” she says it isn’t she
And who else, she asks quite pointedly…could it possibly be?

There are spots on the seat and she says I’m to blame
Her opinion is really quite strong that I have no aim

But my denial is proved weak and cannot phase her
When in desparation I whine…"Hey...I’m not using a laser!"

Don't blame me...I only had them an hour a week...

I went to the volunteer meeting for junior achievement and they gave me my assignment…the junior high class at our local middle school. 

I was there with a few other volunteers.  One of them claimed not to understand what he had agreed to do.  I don’t know what he thought, but he said he was terrified when the director told them he would, indeed, have to talk to them.  And he carries a gun, for pete’s sake.   

So, on a weekly basis, I’ll be facing 30 junior high kids.  I have some experience in this age group.  I taught Sunday School for a group of junior high boys for a while and I can with all confidence say that a few of them turned out well and most of them (to date) avoided jail or boys camp. 

I taught them vital things (with a Biblical theme), like that the calendar was stupid (no, the world wasn’t going to end when the year 2000 came) and that you needed more than $2,000 a year to survive on your own.   And that you didn’t necessarily need $100,000.  

I told them I’d teach them about whatever they wanted to know.  They said women.  

I told them I’d have to bring in a guest speaker.  

I'm going off the rails...

I got tagged by B, the upside down one…since I don’t post (or use the computer) on the weekends, I didn’t find out until today.

Being tagged means you have to do whatever the person who tagged you wants. Kind of like truth or dare on the computer.

This is what I was sent:

Here are the rules:
1. Post the rules on your blog
2. Write six random things about yourself
3. Tag six people at the end of your blog
4. If you are tagged, just do it and pass the tag along

Okay, here goes.
Rule 1: Done…see above

Rule 2: I’d like to point out (before I do this) that my entire blog IS random (well, maybe…see below) things about myself, so I’m blowing six days of ideas by doing this (and I’ve kind of been in a slump lately).
First random thing about myself…I really like Kentucky Fried Chicken Original Recipe. I think about it all the time.
Second random thing about myself…My friend Ed has opined upon occasion (and I agree) that there is no such thing as a non-sequitur, so it is (my random opinion) actually impossible for me to write even ONE thing that is random…
Third random thing about myself (keeping in mind I don’t think it is random)…I don’t ever want to know how Stella got her groove back.
Fourth random thing about myself…I think Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne is one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. I just checked the lyrics online and it turns out I've been singing 25% of them wrong for 20 years.
Fifth random thing about myself… I think war movies are stupid. We already know the ending. Same for Titanic. In case you didn’t get to see it, in the end, it sunk.
Sixth random thing about myself…I can smoke cigarettes and not get addicted to them. I was told this was because I didn’t inhale like a real smoker. So I gave up trying.

Rule 3: I don’t actually believe that six people will read this…and B took everyone I know (even my wife...) that has a blog except for the Stupid Scholar and it seems that he has disappeared.
Rule 4: Done…but why are rules 1 and 4 satisfied just by doing rules 2 and 3 in the first place?

In closing, I appreciate the fact that someone I suggested a possible intervention for is still speaking to (or at least tagging) me.

I can now laugh about crying over this...

I really like chicken wings, buffalo style.

I have traveled the earth (part of it anyway) and on the way, I have tried to find wings wherever I could. The farther south you go, the less chance you have of good wings. This has been my experience. And if you go really far south, like the Caribbean, forget it.

In college, I lived near a fabulous place to get wings. Never done better since. But I still try. But I have a few rules.

1. Has to be in a place that serves beer.

2. Not at Pizza Hut. They make pizza. I know they have this huge wing promotion going on right now…but nope. Besides, in this town, it would violate rule number 1.

3. I usually get the next to hottest, not the hottest. When you get the hottest, someone in the kitchen sneers and says, “Who does this guy think he is? Let’s torch his…”

I’ve been at the wrong end of a torching a few times, creating free entertainment for my companions as tears ran down my face and I begged for ice cream.

(it was pretty much my fault every time. I say this due to the fact that each time I laughed and said, “tell the chef to make them as hot as he wants,” when they asked how hot I wanted them…they’ve always had one thing in common…habenero peppers…but I am getting smarter…I haven’t made a statement like this since 2000…I don’t think)

Also, the next to the hottest usually has better flavor than the hottest. I always get some brand of hot…no BBQ or teriyaki

And finally, 4. No ranch, no blue cheese. A side of the hot sauce is preferred. I might have some celery.

We'll see again in about a month...

I don’t know that I ever considered Americans smarter than the citizens of other countries (although electing Bill Clinton twice should have given me a clue that they weren’t), but it appears that assumption would have been a mistake.

I’ve seen panics for gasoline in other countries and the people act like idiots, hoarding it and sometimes selling it on the black market. It was funny at the time, because it seemed so stupid that people would buy gallons of gas to sell on street corners for twice the price. There were a few fires and explosions, helping ordinary citizens understand that having your own gas station and/or large quanitities of gasoline in milk jugs was not a great idea. But eventually, the strike/shortage/confusion was fixed and life went back to normal.

Now that people are doing it here, (right here in Tennessee) I’ve had to change my mind.

It appears the only thing that has kept Americans from utter stupidity is America itself.

Break a leg! You'll really be helping things...

I’m blaming the internet for all of this.

If you really want to help the economy, go out and buy something in a STORE, not used from someone else on ebay.

DRIVE your car there. Stop for GAS, fill the tank. Go inside and buy a Pepsi.

While you are out, EAT in a restaurant. Tip well.

We have to go out and consume, not just sit, worry and hoard. The Sit, Worry and Hoard method will create the very thing we are worried about.

Yes, I know, part of the problem is that there is no reason to go anywhere. The current lineup of movies is awful. Besides, just wait a little while and NetFlix will mail them to you. You won’t even have to leave the house. And there are hundreds of channels to watch at home anyway.

Why buy books, newspapers or magazines when you can get all your information online?

We have to break this cycle. Turn off the computer. Stop playing video games and watching TV. Go outside and exercise. Do dangerous things.

The hospital could use your money if you get hurt.

Maybe we should call Yale...

I was going to write a thing about this magazine I get each month with people who want to talk to radio stations to promote their book, video or idea on the air.

There are people such as the man with the idea that Obama was Abraham Lincoln in a former life (which is the reason you should vote for him), the nun-turned-nudist, and a guy who says your deodorant and dryer sheets may be killing you.

But on my way back from lunch, I heard the findings of a Yale University study that says if you smoke occasionally, you are more likely to drink heavily.

So let me get this straight…if I have a cigarette every once in a while, I’m likely to go out binge drinking. Not that when I drink alot, I’m more likely to light a cigarette.

So if you have an alcoholic in the house, hide the cigarettes.

And Monday Night Football...

Music is a memory-bank trigger.

I recently put a pre-set button on my radio to a rock and roll station out of Memphis, just in case I am close to suicide someday and need an emergency burst of energy…I don’t think Country Music will be able to pull me out of my downward spiral, in fact, I think it would be more like a shove in the wrong direction.

I don’t dislike Country Music…it’s just that I like other music more…however, Rock and Roll never paid so well…my DJ job when I was 19 paid all of $3.25 an hour or so.

Things weren’t going bad when I went home for lunch today, but I clicked over there anyway…I don’t remember what song it was, but a wash of memories from high school and college came over me…it was like it was yesterday, more than 20 years ago, back when I was driving around in my Renault Le Car, hoping the alternator wouldn’t quit on me.

As it is, listening to Country all the time (I do it to make sure the station is still on the air…my plan to get a needle meter so I could know without having to listen didn’t work out…) creates no memories when I listen to it, except for that song about Charlotte Johnson and that front porch swing.

It’s like I got a lobotomy or something.

Think of it as self-defense...

I heard someone on the radio today say that a hunter “took” a deer.

(I’m not making this up…I interviewed the guy)

I don’t think he meant that the hunter swindled the deer out of his life savings.

When he says “took,” I realize that this is much kinder to say than “shot in the head and ate,” but it bothers me that even hunters have gotten afraid to just say what it is.

There are t-shirts and bumper stickers out there that say things like, “Fire up the Grill…deer hunting isn’t catch and release!” and “Vegetarian: Old Indian word for Bad Hunter.”

My favorite bumper sticker for the occasion is, “I sit very quietly in the woods so when a deer walks by I can shoot him with my high-powered rifle.”

We take time out for the Real County Music lyric of the day.
People ask me how I do it, And I say, "There's nothin' to it,
You just stand there lookin' cute, And when something moves, you shoot!"
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now,
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred Guernsey cow.

I don’t hunt. I’ve never killed an animal (unless you count the goldfish I overfed in daycare when I was five and the occasional "not quite quick enough to dodge my car" squirrel) but I’m sure glad there are people out there doing it. I have compassion for the animals, but they are here for us to eat. At least I think so. And they taste pretty good.

I mean, is there any doubt that they would kill and eat us if they had the opportunity?

And watch me try to figure out what button John pushed that took us off the air...

I’m about to sign a contract with the Discovery Channel for a reality series based on my life running a radio station.

The weekly show will follow me around as I record the weather forecast, do football games on the radio and flaunt the “no food or drink in the control room” rules on a daily basis.

The crew will be there as I run the down the local news each day…calling the fire department, talking to local high school coaches and interviewing the county extension service experts about what to do with tomato plants over the winter and how to get grass stains out of corduroy pants.

We’re still working on a title.

It’s time for the Real Country Music lyric of the day,
Now ole Lying Jim got drunk one time he passed right out in church
Fell right off the front row pew someone said Lord he's hurt
Next mornin' ole Jim sobered up out on the preacher's farm
He said preacher I was wrasslin' the devil and that rascal broke my arm

Anyway, they’ll be on hand when I argue with the people at the football game that I really am the play-by-play person and should be let in for free. They’ll record me trying to get free drinks and popcorn at halftime.

And of course they’ll be there when I take a nap on the couch in my office.

It should debut next spring.

One out of four isn't bad...

I read last night that Women have more issues than Men. This opinion was arrived at because there are “Women’s Issues” sections of bookstores but not “Men’s Issues” sections.

First of all, what man would go to the “Men’s Issues” section of the bookstore? And what man would ask where it was?

(would it be terrible to say that if a man asked where the men's issues section was that he maybe needed to just skip the question and head over to the women's issues section? if it is terrible, forget I mentioned it)

The books on Men’s issues are scattered about the store disguised as books on woodworking, car repair, women’s issues (your issues ARE our issues) and sports.

Men need to be out DOING something (even if it is watching ESPN) not reading about their issues.

This is where I would put a Real Country Music lyric of the day, but I haven’t had the chance to listen to the radio today…I’ve spent all morning transferring my stuff from one money clip to another and tweesing my eyebrows. Man, they needed it.

But for a moment, let's pretend that there was a Men's Issues section of the bookstore:

Last week I was standing in the Men’s Issues section of the bookstore looking at a copy of Broken Down. When Things Have Gotten Really Hard and You Don't Know Why (and When Your Car Won’t Run) when my friend Bill came down the aisle. “Man, your hair looks nice! When did you get it done?”

“Last week,” I replied. “Where’d you get those blue jeans! They look fabulous.”

Stop.

See why this won’t work?

The Home Economics Series: Part 1

How to remove pet odor from room where previous owner of house had a pack of animals (or at least one very incontinent and smelly one).

Ingredients/Supplies needed:
Baking Soda
White Vinegar
Dishwashing Detergent
3% Hydrogen Peroxide
Propane Torch
Cell Phone

Directions:
Pour the baking soda liberally on the area. Add White Vinegar until it is a thick paste. When the paste hardens, cover with dishwashing detergent. Immediately add Hydrogen Peroxide. Ready the Propane Torch and set flame to medium high.

After two or three minutes or when the peroxide is no longer bubbling, light the overstuffed armchair in the room on fire with the propane torch. Retreat from the house immediately.

After 10 minutes, use the cell phone to call the Fire Department and your Insurance Agent.

If the above method is not feasible, you may try two others.

Alternate Method:
Smoke one cigar per day in the affected room.

Alternate, Alternate Method:
Recruit the International Museum of Limburger Cheese to open a satellite exhibit in the affected room.

Next in the series: Disposal of Dentures Left Behind by Previous Owner in Two Easy Steps.

Take a ride on the reading railroad...

I have a friend who keeps buying books.

She blogs about buying them and reading them. She has lists of books she is intending to read and has read.

She blogs about visiting America’s Greatest Bookstores. I’ve been to her house. There are a lot of books there.

If I didn’t have so much respect for her judgment, I’d suggest an intervention.

But, in keeping with the spirit of reading, I thought I’d tell you about the books I’ve read recently.

1. Barnyard Dance by Sandra Boynton…It’s seems that the animals have scored a fiddle and are having a square dance. With a neigh and a moo and a cockle-doodle-doo….
2. Dogs by Julie Aigner-Clark…Dogs do a lot of things. Clark narrows it down to about seven and none of it is hazardous to shoes.
3. Sometime I Like to Curl up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill…This wombat is a busy little guy, but he finds time to, you guessed it, curl up in a ball.
4. The Pup Speaks Up by Anna Jane Hays…Pal the pup lets everyone else weigh in before he gives his opinion. Example: Chug, Chug goes a tug.
5. God Made Colours author unknown (must have been British)…Some of the major colors are covered in this six page volume.
6. One, Two, Three! by Sandra Boynton…Amongst the highlights of the book is the notion that Six is fun for a running race unless you are the one in sixth place.
7. God Made You Special by Eric Metaxas…Talking vegetables Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato explain that even a gourd can be his own man.
8. Oh, Bother! Someone’s Afraid of the Dark by Betty Birney…Piglet freaks out during a slumber party he has with his friend Winnie the Pooh. Cameos by Tigger and Owl.

Included on my TBR (to be read) list is me reading them again to John tomorrow.

I report...you decide

I mentioned the other day to my wife that I wanted to go to my 20-year high school reunion. This surprised her for two reasons, first, since it was three years ago (I guess I meant my 25th) and second, that I was the least bit interested in going back to where I went to high school.

I only went to the high school I graduated from for about six months and didn’t spend much time in the town, so I guess it didn’t make much sense to her. Also, it isn’t on the list of America’s most livable cities, unless you were a coal miner.

She did take the opportunity to ridicule the town and area (although she’s never been there) that I did complete my high school in by asking me if I wanted to go to the reunion to see who had gotten indoor plumbing and who still had their own teeth.

It’s now time for the Real Country Music lyric of the day:
Now I'm paintin' the house and I'm mendin' the fence
I guess I've gone and lost all my good sense
Too much work is hard for your health
I could've died drinkin' now I'm killing myself
And I'm feedin' the dog, sackin' the trash
It's honey do this, honey do that
I sobered up and I got to thinkin'
Girl you ain't much fun since I quit drinkin'

Later that day…

We receive Holli’s hometown newspaper each week. This week there is a story about how a monkey may have started a house fire with a propane tank, but his owner won’t hear of the accusation, even though the monkey was seen with the tank moments before the blaze.

Right now, since her home burned completely to the ground, she and her monkey are staying at a hotel on the American Red Cross tab, but that is about to come to an end. It’s okay she says, because the monkey really hates the hotel room.

It was on the FRONT PAGE.

Thursday's genius is Friday's fool...

In high school…as I was either playing hangman with Steve Pollack while the class read MacBeth or while I did baseball statistics with Scott McCabe while the class read Silas Marner (I can't remember)…we had a visit from the guidance counselor.

He told us that Abraham Lincoln was an idiot. He explained that Abe said you could be anything you wanted to…that you could be all you can be and that you could have it your way.

(later in the semester he also told us that there was a Burger King near where he had basic training)

No, No, No. That wasn’t true, he said. You couldn’t be anything you wanted to be…some of us weren’t college material and we needed to recognize that and make choices that reflected a realistic view of ourselves.

As a side note…he told us that too many students become teachers because they couldn’t think of anything else to do with their lives. (I wonder what Mrs. Buckner (or was it Mrs. Glasser?) thought of that?)

I don’t know why he told us this…perhaps he had a deal with the local trade school for referrals or he had just spent all morning trying to find a chimney sweep.

And as quickly as he arrived he was back out the door.

Now for the Real Country Music lyric of the day…
(the hardest part was deciding what part of this song to include…)
I came crawling home last night, like many nights before:
I finally made it to my feet as she opened up the door.
And she said, "You're not gonna do this anymore."

She said: "I'm gonna' hire a wino to decorate our home,
So you'll feel more at ease here, and you won't have to roam.
We'll take out the dining room table, and put a bar along that wall.
And a neon sign, to point the way, to our bathroom down the hall."

She said: "Just bring your Friday paycheck, and I'll cash them all right here.
And I'll keep on tap - for all your friends, their favorite kinds of beer.
There'll be Monday night football, on T.V. above the bar.
And a pay phone in the hallway, when your friends can't find their car."

Back to the story of the little train that shouldn't even try...

A couple of days later he was back. He apologized for telling us we couldn’t be anything we wanted to be and told me, yes, I could be the next host of Dance Fever.

The only thing you couldn’t be (he didn’t explain this, but it seems obvious) was a guidance counselor who spoke his mind.

If I had been a general contractor, I would have been fired and sued...

I stacked a couple more logs on top of one another and checked the photo on the box.

It looked alright…I guess.

“Are you doing the directions Daddy?” came the query. “Are you doing them?”

My yes reply was less than certain. I was going as fast as I could. I just couldn’t really read picture directions…they were terrible.

“I want it to look like the box!” she said. “You’re not doing it by the box!”

No, I wasn’t. I took down a wall, which made me take down another wall. I started over. No, the front wall with the door needed to come down.

“Daddy!”

We started over. We started over again. Finally, I got it close enough. I think she was just being nice when she said, “Yeah, yeah, that’s it!”

No wonder Abe Lincoln was President. Anyone who could build something out of these must have been a genius.

A few hundred serious words...

I heard today about the Homeless World Cup…an international soccer tournament, where teams are made up entirely of homeless people.

It jogged my memory of a guy I knew a few years ago.

He got overwhelmed and just dropped out of “normal” life. One day he was living a “normal” life with a wife and kids…the next he was gone. After a while he wasn’t earning a living (by choice…he was quite employable) and he just took to the streets.

For him, life was too tough and just running away was the option he took.

To operate in the “normal” world, you have to pay rent or the mortgage…most places you need a car…there’s needing the right clothes and the right look to keep up with the times. It’s not a joke that you don’t have to worry about the cable bill or your retirement or the balance in your checkbook if you just decide to quit.

He just snapped and couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to work at life (and have the worry that goes with it) and he decided things would be better for everyone (but mostly himself) if he dropped out. It was mostly cowardly, but understandable, on a certain level.

For me, the impossible thing would be the things you left behind. The things that made all the above stuff worth it.

So if you need me, I’ll be at the office.

And they were still there waiting for me to come back...

After probably 20 years, I returned to a staple of my youth.

When you are a kid, you go where your parents take you. My parents, wanting me to be well-rounded, took me to Long John Silvers every once in a while. My love of fried seafood began here.

The plank ramps leading in, the rope railings and door handles, the funny sailor hats worn by the employees…some of my best memories of fine dining are there.

I usually got the chicken plank dinner or the two-piece fish with fries and extra crumblies*. There was a huge bottle of Malt Vinegar on the table to generously splash on the fries and fish.

(*crumblies were just extra breading that is broken off in the fryer…they strain them out of the oil and put them in a bowl and serve them as a side dish…I’m not sure of their dietary value, but they sure tasted good)

But something happened…I didn’t intend to stop going there…I just did…and after a while, I didn’t think about it anymore.

Tonight though, the air dripping with nostalgia, with my kids and never-been-there-before wife in tow…I returned and dined on the chicken and fish dinner with just fries. (I didn’t have the guts to go for the extra crumblies…saying “extra crumblies” as a grown man seemed silly) The Malt Vinegar was right where I’d left it. The kids loved it. I said “Ahoy, Matey!” every two minutes or so to keep the excitement in the air.

It was wonderful. I can’t wait to go back.

My brand new Chuck Taylor's...

Old man Grimes wisely told me one time
To never use orange when making a rhyme.
He also said to always, no…wait it was never
To write something crass unless it was clever.

And while I don’t think this can be called bad or “R” rated
I’d feel better if this disclaimer is stated
For those weak of stomach I will gladfully cater
Click somewhere else now and I’ll catch you a bit later.

But now the Real County Music lyric o' the day:
(I’ll put it up now so you can read it sans delay)
I got an alimony payment that's six weeks overdue
I got caught with a truck of bootleg outta state booze
I hocked my wife's diamond ring last June
Bought me an outboard Evinrude
But other than that we ain't nothin Just good ol boys

Anyway...

This past Sunday I went and heard the preacher man.
And in a good mood I left with the clan.
I put the boy in the car and got in to drive
When through my nostrils a smell did arrive.

Now when you have children, you immediately think
That a diaper well-soiled is the source of the stink
I said not yet knowing… “What's that thing in the air?”
If I’m not mistaken…it has the stench of the fair.

Then with dread I turned over my shoe
My fears were then confirmed and I knew
While I had gone to church (and listened) instead of taking a nap
The Lord didn’t see to save my sneaker from a huge piece of crap.

Tom T. Hall saves the day...

Until just a second ago, I was just sitting here staring at the computer.

Which brings us to the Real Country Music lyric of the day:
I was standin' outside of a hotel in Houston blinkin' my eyes in the bright morning sun
A feller next to me said where are you headed
I told him to Nashville cause that's where I'm from
I said I had one or too many last evening brother I damn near fell off of my steed
He said yeah whiskey gets 'em and whiskey gets many
But listen son nothin' kills people like greed
I said huh and I turned to him and he was a cowboy
Bout fifty years old in a big western hat
Sir if you said that greed killed more people than whiskey
If my taxi don't come tell me more bout that

He said I knew a guy who made millions on millions
Then he turned right around and made millions on that
He had crude oil and blue chips and good barns and feed lots
He could touch an old steer and just turn into fat
And he coveted the money that other folks lived on
He never spent nickels he thought he could keep
It was money that made him a night hawk and a worrier
And soon it was money that robbed him of sleep
And they buried him deep in a west Texas graveyard
They put up a tombstone of all he had done
And I am the man that he fired for a few beers
But I'm sure feeling good in the west Texas sun

I shook hands with that man and I crawled in the taxi
And I thought of the two things that I keep doing wrong
The man said that the greed killed more people than whiskey
And I'm sittin' here hung over writin' a song

In a minute, I’ll be staring at something else. Have a nice day.

We stand by what we sell because we don't have any chairs...

I got a letter in the email today:

Dear Mr. __________,

We're very sorry to hear that you had an issue with your bag of beef jerky. We've had thousands of positive responses to our snacks and very few complaints. Our all-American jerky should have been fresh out of the bag, carrying a great flavor.

Each snack we produce is put through an extensive screening process. I can assure you that this problem is not a common occurrence. We would like to know the information that is stamped on the back of the bag. This information is important for our quality control team to investigate the issue that you are experiencing.

We'd be happy to send you another bag as a replacement. Please let us know by email so that we can send that bag along.

Sincerely,

Ms. _________________ Consumer Affairs