Eureka!

Before I threw my newest issue of Maxim into the big blue bin in the garage, I thought I could get some use out of it. I didn't want my last post to be the last things we said to each other, I figured since we were both adults we could figure some sort of common ground out. So we went around the house to see what sort of mischief we could create or functional relationship we could develop.

The first thing we tried to do was see if we could get Ted a second pillow for when he is not in the living room. He's a big fan of sleeping since he is growing so much, and he does enjoy laying next to me while I write or surf the net, so we tried to use Maxim as a pillow. I don't think Ted appreciated the dumbing down through osmosis.



I thought maybe our relationship was getting off to a chilly start, so I figured I'd maybe try to break the ice with a drink. I guess Maxim isn't a big fan of tequila or margarita's. I enjoyed my frosty drink while Maxim looked at me unsatisfied and slightly bored. I guess I should be used to it.



I figured if I showed of my video game prowess Maxim would warm up to me a little bit. Without much doubt I shredded through "Beat It" in tribute to the fallen King of Pop. When I handed my axe over, Maxim sucked it up. So much for me being a guitar hero to save the encounter.



Since Maxim has been objectified and mistreated by men since it's been around, I figured I'd put Maxim in some demeaning situations to see how Maxim would react. Unfortunately dusting my PlayStation 3 (which I found to be poetic justice) proved to be another misstep in the afternoon. I guess my way with the Maxim's of the world has diminished since I've been married.



I figured maybe Maxim would like a more dignified job, like protecting my family and my house. I plastered Maxim across our security stop sign. I never though it would deter criminals from robbing our home, but now Maxim's distracting layout and oozing sex on paper could stop would be burglars from entering my humble abode. Alas, making criminals think twice about a life of crime was not what Maxim had in mind.



After this Maxim and I had words, and I attempted to forcibly get Maxim to clean George's cat box. As you can see, it was met with much resistance.



Maybe since Maxim is so beautiful on the outside, Maxim would be interested in hanging up next to some photographic art in our entry way. Maxim responded to this a little better, but for reasons my wife would be able to explain, I figured it would be better to try and find a more appropriate place to dwell.



And this is how we end. Parting is such sweet sorrow, Maxim. However, I know you'll be back in a month.

I'm okay with getting older.

(Now that you are done oogling at Megan Fox, let's get rolling).

Based on what has happened to my mailbox. Not so much to it as what has happened inside of it. I still play video games whenever I have time. I have all the major gaming systems of this generation, as they call it. I'm patiently biding my time until the new installment of NCAA Football comes out so I can start as a coach of meager means and rise to the top of gridiron glory, as I do every year.

I also subscribed to a gaming magazine, a subscription I kept for many years. At the start of 2009 Electronic Gaming Monthly became a casualty of the decline of print media and stopped publishing their rag. I figured I'd get a refund check. I figured wrong.

A few weeks ago I open up my mailbox at the end of my block to find a copy of something I haven't even seen since I was 22. I wasn't even sure if they still put the damn thing out. Maxim appeared and I didn't know why. I remember it had samples of cheap teen boy cologne and pictures of mostly naked women I could subscribe to Playboy and see without the tease, if I really wanted. The magazine always appeared to be a bit of a jerk off to me.

Now I am older and wiser. Ok, not really but I still know good writing from writing that I hope when the human race is centuries long gone that archaeologists from far off planets do not discover, only to deduce that this was the pinnacle of our journalistic endeavors.

I still page through it before I toss it in our recycling bin (yes I know, how snobbish using a recycling bin rather than the trash) for some laughs. This month, Maxim tears apart the 2010 Chevrolet Camaro versus the 2010 Ford Mustang. Two cars I would be interested reading about in Car & Driver or Motor Trend.

Of course, Maxim has nary an automobile expert, so they rely on women of N.Y.C. most likely displaying the pictures in the magazine gauging the quotes. "The Camaro looks classier. But red's pretty arrogant. And I'd really prefer if it were a Bentley." - Hannah, 22.

Thank you, Hannah. I always wondered if gallivanting around in a red Camaro, and American classic, was arrogant up against say, a $400,000 Bentley.

If you are a casual watcher of television, like to come out of your parent's basement, or have your newest Megan Fox fan club mailer you are well aware of Michael Bay's latest abomination and spite against humanity, "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen." Now, every sensible critic I have read has panned the movie, because it wreaks of suck. Maxim, however, is treating it like Gosford Park 2.

Fox is placed in various degrees of degrading positions, actors will scream dialogue like you're at a Dane Cook concert (because just telling a joke isn't funny, unless you yell it out) and historic landmarks will be reduced to piles of rubble. I'm not even upset Michael Bay is perverting more classics from the 80's like I was after I walked out of the first live action Transformers, now it's boiled down to the fact this guy is still making movies. Did you know Maxim's publishing offices are nestled comfortably between the New York Times and the New York Public Library? Lock up your wife and kids.

I understand movies are supposed to be fun, make believe and an escape from our normal lives. But at what a price? Certainly I will keep my brain cells in tact for such cinematic seriousness like "The Hangover."

Lady Gaga is an abomination of Satan himself and Madonna. Her songs are second rate and her "out there" attitude makes me weep for kids thinking she is the definition of cool. Kids who will never discover The Replacements or The Minutemen and never truly understand what a true rebel in music is.

"I'm dressed conservatively today, I should take off my pants just to freak them out!" A woman threatening to take off their pants in a Morton's Steak House has never been so potentially boring. Bi-curious activity (when it's a "hot," lipstick lesbian type) sells to the Maxim reading community, because it's mentioned in every feature involving the women it interviews. I use that term loosely, obviously. "So we know your new album/movie/homemade porn is getting straight into the everyday life of impressionable teens and young adults around the world. So do you like to have sex with women?" This was probably a real question or has been one in Maxim's time. How do I figure? Because this was a question...

Maxim: Do you prefer sex with men or women?
Ms. Gaga: It depends of the guy or the girl. But I'm not discussing my sex life with you. I will say that I'd be a happy girl if I could make the whole world gay.

Edgy. Then gay people wouldn't have a gay identity, or be defined apart from straight people which isn't a bad thing according to a few gay friends, minus the whole government reserving marriage rights for wholesome straight people. I wonder, no wait, she clearly doesn't know what she is talking about. Bless her heart, she may have the gay community's best interests in mind, but I doubt it.

I like how in one breath she let's you know she does in fact, have sex with women. But she won't give you the details, which is what we seem to be wrapped up with as a society. Truth be told, if I did have to think about her with other women, I'd rather let my imagination do the walking. Fancy that, using my imagination.

Did you know that growing up in New Jersey gives you enough material to play psychotic roles as a hick in movies like "Black Snake Moan" and "Monster" like Christina Ricci? Time to place this in the bin and take a shower.

A Minor Self-Indulgence of Sorts

Sometimes you realize you're in a place you didn't think you'd end up in. Kansas City isn't a world away from where I grew up in South Dakota, however some days you get little reminders you aren't where you came from.

I did (willingly) give up my friends and family to relocate. In the end, it was for the best. I'm very happy with my life right now. I'm doing well at a job that is finally flexible to my school schedule, which I'm doing ever better at. So, to say I miss my old home would probably be something a person with zero perspective in the middle of a great situation would say.

I do miss portions of it though. Tomorrow some old friends are staying with my wife and I. They're coming back through Kansas City from St. Louis so they can follow and catch their beloved Minnesota Twins. 'Circle Me Bert' signs be damned, we will be joining them.

I have friends here. I have good friends here. But their arrival reminds me, even though the relationships aren't what they were 10 or even 15 years ago, I had potentially lifelong friends back home. Them, along with some others, I see sless than the seasons change in the year.

Most people will take a visit like this and just enjoy the time. I'm not saying I won't, because I've been looking forward to this for awhile whether anyone else was or not. But for some reason I've never been able to escape my ability to draw out the darker side of most any situation. I'm not sure what this says about me, and with most of my posts being very self referential, I'll back down a bit and spare you all the self-analyzing boredom my own wife can't even stomach.

So, here's to a good night off with some old friends at a baseball game and my house while I tame the same old same old.

Allow Me

Let me throw my considerable weight around on this issue, since everyone under the Sun feels the need to talk about it.

I did my minute of memorial service for Michael Jackson soon after I found out he died. I feel a sense of loss each time I hear a story of someone dying, reprehensible character or not. However, the reverence and attention Michael is receiving is surprising and not at the same time.

The love of celebrity and fame isn't anything new to anyone in my generation. When a figure like Jackson dies, there are going to be some varied degrees of a spotlight on the subject. But let's get real for a minute. None of us knew Jackson personally, were never going to know him personally or may even want to judging on what you believe had been written about him in the press for the past two decades.

You would have been more likely to make a joke about Jackson's alleged pedophilia than listening to "Bad" these days. I'm sure there are some true blue fans who never lost hope in him, but I think most of them are in Germany. Or Indonesia. The rest are going back through their long forgotten catalog of Jackson hits, or scrambling to iTunes to download "Thriller."

So let's not kid ourselves here. How much thought in your day went into the personal life of Michael Jackson before you heard he died? "I need to get to the store and pick up a loaf of bread for tomorrow. I really need to get to the gym more. I wonder how Michael Jackson is holding up since he sold Neverland Ranch? Did I check the mail this afternoon when I came home from work?" He's dead now, and so today we care.

The greatest crime is how we treat these people. We lift them up to heights and wealth none of us will ever attain, and when they slip up or have a perceived slip up, we in our righteous indignation rip it from them and rub their noses in excrement to show they are no better or worse than us. Then, when they die, we hold candle light vigils and teary memorial services for them and remember the good times. It may be a good day to die, but it's never a good day to show a shred of dignity or decency.

I, for one, think this is a little hypocritical and even unfair. Depending on the "crime" I suppose. So let's let Michael's family grieve. Leave the weeping to his close friends and intimates. We need to get on with our own lives. I heard Kim Jong Il was going to fire a missile at Hawaii. And congress was trying to pass an energy bill that will tax us until infinity. But before we get back to reality, let's listen to a little "Billie Jean" while we get a Starbucks and then settle in for some TMZ.

Rinse, repeat.

Words Are Flowing Out...

Hmmm...I don't really feel like writing much either. Actually, I would love to write, but there's just so much to write about. Seriously. The topics are endless: Ed McMahon dying, neo-Nazi octogenarians, heat advisories, Jon & Kate divorcing, a doctor being shot down in church...the list is endless. So! I've decided to write about all of it...and more. Reader, be forewarned: There will be much rambling.

Ed McMahon is dead. People dying is typically sad; the greatest sidekick ever (save Andy Richter) dying is a bit more sad, I guess. I'll be honest, as I am, and tell you what Ed's death makes me feel. First, it makes me feel old, which isn't really out of the ordinary, I suppose. Second, it makes me miss Phil Hartman (I have to admit, I always liked Phil's impersonation of Ed McMahon way more than I liked Ed McMahon himself). Mr. McMahon always sort of creeped me out on The Tonight Show and more so on Star Search. However, I have fond memories of watching him with Dick Clark on TV Bloopers and Practical Jokes. Ed's set-up and delivery, albeit completely scripted, was some good stuff. For real.

Speaking of completely scripted events, 88 year old white supremacist James von Brunn shot and killed a security officer at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum not too long ago. I don't even know what to say about this guy. I tried to read up on him and his "the Holocaust never happened" drivel, but it became, at best, laughable and, at worst, disturbing as all get out. Grand Wizard von Brunn is just a small speck of poo in a clogged and overflowing toilet of hatred and deceit where all the other excrement feel sorry for themselves and each other even though they're the people who are messing up the plumbing. It's well known that the remedy to a backed-up toilet is a perfect balance of plunging, time, and persistence. Happy flushing!

Let's move on to heat advisories. They are dumb. That is all. Wait, okay...elderly people and young children should definitely get some extra attention when it's sooooo hot outside, but the weatherpeople of the world are being a bit ridiculous with the stupid heat advisory maps and such. Seriously.

Okay. My wife and I are guilty of Jon & Kate voyeurism, but we haven't been following it obsessively like Entertainment Tonight or US Weekly. If there's anyone out there who thought this family, given it's complex back story, would have a fairy tale ending, please don't procreate. J&K's situation is precisely what happens to two well-meaning jerks when they reproduce at a rapid pace and decide to let the world watch what happens. Is it just me, or is Jon reverting to his seventeen year old self? And don't Kate's eyes scream "I will pose nude for Playboy in the near future"? Just sayin'...

On a lighter note, infamous Dr. George Tiller was gunned down by a pro-life extremist while ushering at his church. Irony abounds. What's that? Oh, you'd like to know my personal beliefs? Okay...well, hmmm. Killing people is stupid; not only in the way crazy pro-life man did it, but also in the way the good Doctor Tiller did it. Now don't go getting your tubes in a tangle, feminists of the world. I'm all for women's rights...I really am. You know something, though? I don't get why loads of women can be so up-in-arms about reproductive rights, but not nearly as many seem to give a damn that women are paid far less than their male counterparts for equal work. Maybe that's the problem: Demand more money at work so then you can afford to buy contraceptives, avoid pregnancy, and therefore avoid abortion. Also, blogger Mark Smith pointed out how strange it was that a whole bunch of white women gathered at the Plaza for a vigil when Dr. Tiller was murdered, but they don't seem to notice that people are murdered every day on Kansas City's east side. I don't get it and I'm afraid they don't either.

Hooray! It's over!

Dilemma

Here is a riddle. What are you to do when you are supposed to be a writer, but don't feel like writing? At all.

Is it any wonder?

So I'm up too late once again, ready to unleash my meandering palaver onto the internets.

I'm stuck right now. I'm not a big fan of partial birth abortion. But killing the guy who practices it? I suppose his first mistake was thinking he could get away with it in the Midwest and die of "old age," or the state of Kansas more specifically. Between Fred Phelps and Jayhawks, I know I already live too close.

Not to say I've found my stay in the state of Missouri much better. I guess for someone growing up in a state with the population less than half of the city I live in it's a bit of a different beast. It's not to say I'm Woody Boyd, but I guess I could be a bit of a hayseed. However, I am fairly progressive in my thoughts and beliefs. I think it's perfectly fine of gay people to get married, I'm mostly pro-choice because I don't think it's the governments right to tell you want to do with your body, and I'm not particularly religious. But the way people treat one another down here is ridiculous. I'm glad I picked Kansas City and not somewhere out of the Midwest.

After I saw George Tiller had been assassinated all I could say was "what the fuck?" While I think his practice is egregious, it's just my opinion. And while I think my opinion consistently rules, I don't think I've killed someone who has disagreed with my inherent awesomeness. And why is it always crazy ass anti-government or ultra-religious people who pull this sort of crap off? You never hear about the educated, homosexual Atheist killing the preacher of an ultra conservative church for gay bashing do you? As if America needed a bigger reason to avoid religious or anti-government nut jobs as elected officials.

I don't think I'll ever take residence in the state of Kansas, just so when I'm elsewhere in the country I don't have to be looked down on by the rest of the world.