Welcome to The Jerkstore

A reminder....

I am not here. I can be found here.

Countdown

In the early 1980's and before, if you had leftovers or a to go box from a local eatery you would heat them up in the oven or on the stove top. Then, everyone purchased and now owns a microwave for the most part. No one thinks twice about eating fried spaghetti any more. This is a shame.

Inside your house you could put your life on hold and not worry about what was going on in the world for a few minutes. Putting your feet up and unplugging from the world outside became a thing of the past with television in the 1950's and the internet in the 1990's. So what else could you do to get away?

You could leave the house and get out in the world, but then everyone started carrying cell phones so you were never too far away from someone reaching you no matter where you were. Now we share our pictures, thoughts and social status on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace (seriously, who still uses MySpace?) and whatever else you can think of.

I feel like I'm done. I've toyed around with the idea of leaving Facebook behind like I did my other social networking page several years ago. But how absurd is this? Writing about how I'm thinking about not having an online page about myself anymore? What the hell is going on?

If I added up all the time I spend on the stupid computer and Facebook, I'm sure at the end of the day/week/month/year I could be accomplishing something. Even if it is something small. I think I'm over it.

Here is a video portraying how I'd like to run away...

Blah Blah Blog

Limbo seems to be a word I am all too familiar with. It has either been moving to Kansas City and transitioning away from life in Sioux Falls or working a nine to five in the hopes that some day I will be able to do something for a living that I actually enjoy. Because, let's be honest, it is difficult to get up every day and be excited about working a job on the phone. I have no one but to blame but myself, as I have been easily talked out of working at a retail store location for the company that employs me.

This fall as I enter the season of my senior year, I hope to make a transition academically. Well, not so much the academic side of being a student, but what I do with my "free" time while there. My profession of choice when I exit college is to find a job as an assistant sports information director or maybe sans assistant. The guys that run the SID office at my school have agreed to take me under their wing. I'm feeling pretty good about the idea of getting back to more writing. Something that was severely lacking last year as sports editor for the campus newspaper.

My core classes for school have pretty much concluded. Now it is all a matter of wading through electives and a few other requirements. So it continues. Waiting for the next big thing to happen. I'm just hoping that this jumping from lily pad to lily pad does not continue to the point of me just waiting to transition to death eventually. I'm positive this is just the outcry of someone who is tiring of juggling 15 credit hours of school along with a 40 hour a week job that consists of telling people how much I understand their shortcomings.

I stayed up tonight partaking in an activity I used to really enjoy. Reading about World War II on the Internet. With the advent of Wikipedia, it has watered down the thoughts and opinions of everyone from former U.S. military vets to Holocaust deniers who post their thoughts on Angelfire constructed websites, but it still works. Tonight I focused on the bombing of Dresden and asked myself, "was an attack of this magnitude necessary? Did the Allies use sound strategical logic bombing a cultural center rather than focusing on the factories on the outskirts of town?" All this pondering, while still maintaining my status as everyone's favorite commenting asshole on Facebook.

I know why I stay up late at night. I know why I chose to stay in the job that I am in while I am preparing for something else. A quick note, I would have an interest in staying when I'm done with school if I am presented with an opportunity that doesn't make me feel like I only needed a middle school education to perform my tasks. I digress...

I seem to be afraid of what the next day will bring. I force myself to stay awake because I know something is around the corner that is making me anxious. I don't know what that is, but it seems like it's out there. Maybe it's because I've worked a succession of jobs that do not engage me mentally and intellectually. Maybe I'm so adjusted to the ho-hum mundane worker bee mentality that I'm getting nervous about the prospect of becoming the equivalent of Moses emerging out of the desert after 40 years.

Anyway. Time to actually face down my bed and the prospect of waking up again to watch the USA play Slovenia!

Certainty

Music. It is a common theme on this blog. I've been working on a music project for awhile, and I am in the midst of completing the final leg. At it's inception back in 2004, when I would break up with my last girlfriend before meeting my wife (again), it was intended to chronicle the songs surrounding the relationships I had from high school up until that point. Very typical of someone at that age I suppose.

One song struck me in particular tonight and it has to do with my wife. Our relationship goes back quite a ways. More than 10 years now as a matter of fact. We have only been "together" for half of that time, but the parts where we tried and failed are what I'm tackling with this final piece, among other themes.

This is pretty quick, but it resonated pretty deep tonight. In September of 2000, I was on hiatus with my on again, off again girlfriend at the time. Stephanie, was on with her on/off again. But I didn't care. I was in Omaha and I was going down to the town where we met, Maryville, Missouri. I didn't know what I was doing, I just did it. I had just confessed my feelings for her from the previous year when we met after all. I had to see her. I had to do something.

I skipped out on my cousin's wedding reception and set off for the campus of Northwest Missouri State with no plan. I didn't have a place to stay. I had not a clue what Stephanie and I were going to do. We ended up going to Kansas City. I did the typical dinner and a movie, which for the night was Olive Garden and "What Lies Beneath." It all ended innocently enough with me dropping her back off at her dorm, and me grabbing a spot on my friends couch who still went to school there.

But what made me even post this tonight was digging up the Bob Marley song "Waiting In Vain," which musically and lyrically is very germane to this part of the story of my wife and I.

I distinctly remember driving the back highway to get to Maryville in my white Volkswagen Golf, listening to this song with the admin building and the high rises on the horizon with the sun setting behind my car, thinking "I am certain this will never work out." Thus proving that certainty is never certain.

Riot!

So under my new plan I would be posting this only under my political blog. I'm writing with people from school but I figured I would include it on this blog too. It needs more attention.

Over the weekend, as most of you Kansas City news watchers or readers will know, there was a disturbance at the Country Club Plaza in Midtown. As most residents know this is an upscale, outdoor shopping center with nice restaurants and bars sprinkled in. Saturday night as many as 900 minors between the ages of 11 and 17, reportedly descended upon the three block district and proceed to harass, assault and vandalize person and property.

These are the facts from the perspective of the local media reporting on the story. The other major component of the story being reported by the press and television is the response by the police. Officers were dispatched to the area to break up large packs of kids and teens with pepper spray or mace. Most of which were just walking around in groups. Granted they were slowing traffic to a standstill, which is more than the normal pain it is to drive there, but mass amounts of pepper spray?

Two things disturb me about the activities of the kids and the actions of the police. First, we’ll address the issue of why were 900 or more kids at the Plaza past 10 p.m. on a Saturday night. There is widespread speculation as to how and why the event was organized. I’ve heard reports from kids being upset about schools being closed to having nothing better to do. I really believe more of the latter, and I’m alright with that fact, I can identify with being a teenage loitering nuisance because I was one at a particular point in my life.

What I take an issue with is the amount of reported vandalism, assault and sexual harassment as most people would, not their right to gather in mass groups in any particular area of town. My most obvious question is “where are the parents?” At group of 50 or so kids I can understand. But nearly 1000? This shows more of societal and fundamental flaw within the ranks of the parents whose children were participating in the late night gathering. I’ve read in the Kansas City Star some city council members are talking about developing more programs for kids to be involved with. I’m certain this could help, however parents becoming more involved with the lives of their children would remedy situations like this further and should be the basis of preventing issues like this from happening. Yet not mention is made of it. It seems to me that calling out parents for doing a subpar job of raising their children is taboo.

What’s more, is that if I were involved in some of the reported beatings and vandalism and my parents caught wind of it, specifically my father, would have had some physical things to say to me. Where are the fear based consequences for kids acting out like this in the home? Better yet, are the people who would carry out the punishment available?

Let’s be honest here, and this is an issue the Star and local television news will avoid, but most of these kids were African-American minorities. Kansas City isn’t the most race friendly towns I’ve ever been in. Suffice it to say it may be one of the worst in the Midwest. All you have to do is look at a census map and focus the demographic on race. You wouldn’t exactly call this place a melting pot. So why isn’t this being addressed in the paper or on T.V.? You can be assured it has the potential to spark further conflict. Whatever the case may be, no one wants to touch this one with a ten foot pole and most will just hope it gets swept under the rug.

The second problem I have is the actions of the Kansas City Police Department. I have talked to people I go to school with who were down on the Plaza that night and say people who were just walking around were maced or pepper sprayed by officers with little to no warning. Incidents were people were beaten or harassed I’m sure had reached the officers in and around the area, however the reaction was not surprisingly over the limit of just keeping the peace and dispersing the group.

In situations where large throngs of people can quickly escalate and spiral out of control, a firm and even-handed approach may pour water on the fire. The KCPD seems to have had other plans in mind. And now, with the prospect of white people from the suburbs looking to other places in town to take their business, fearful business owners will most likely call on the police to step up security in the area to make people feel safe. However, if things do start to come to a boil, will regular people who just want a nice evening out be left out of the crossfire? Based on the confusion from Saturday night I would be inclined to say no.

For the next six weeks the area will be teeming with officers, plain clothes officers and mounted police. The ranks of Kansas Cities finest will be protecting mostly white shoppers in an oasis of Kansas City social and economic segregation. But you have to stop and ask yourself, where is the concern for the violence in the areas located directly to the east of the Plaza? Star writer Tony Rizzo released a three-part story last spring entitled “Murder Factory” that nailed the zip code of 64130 as the highest homicide producing area in all of Missouri. More killers locked up in Missouri prisons and penitentiaries hail from this part of town, which is narrowly divides it from the Plaza by Bruce R. Watkins Drive.

Most likely, the issue will die down because most kids will be discouraged by the heightened police presence in the area. Some may return, however my prediction is you have seen the apex of this “movement.” The problem is not gone, as most people will probably assess the contrary as they gradually come out of their hiding places and back down into Midtown. The thing to keep in mind is where will something like this happen next? The Power and Light district where the owners of the operations have already targeted minorities based on a dress code? Or, God forbid, somewhere in Johnson county?

The disenfranchised made their presence felt, or kids acted up with nothing better to do. You’ll have to decide which is the truth. Although coming to any conclusion may take you to a place regarding the community and city in which you live that you would not dare to bring up at a Sunday barbecue.

Obligatory

Life, and this is far from groundbreaking, works in funny ways. I'm a competitive person, although it doesn't show most of the time. Let's take where I work just as an example. The reason I work where I do is so I can focus on school and get a paycheck in the process. That was the plan anyway, and now I'm #2 in our site out of roughly 600 people and #20 nationally in our company out of approximately 6000 people. It adds stress, but I could win a free trip.

I had no outlet for my competitive nature after high school really. Since I have been in school I seem to compete against myself for my grades and others I guess you could say. I've made the dean's list every semester since I have been at Park. When I went back and was accepted in the fall of 2007, I started a separate blog to keep track of the experiences. I should have kept it.

This blog was the driving force in bringing me back to something I have had a passion for since I was in high school, and probably before that. Writing, and more specifically journalism, is something I feel a great deal of attachment to. I've worked very hard at it since returning to school in January of 2008. I've endured trials, tests and rewards. My wife and I bought our first house. We adopted a dog. I lost a job. I got another one. I lost that one and got my current one. We bought a Great Dane. Through those ups and downs, it is nice to begin to see some of the payoff.

Tonight I attended an awards ceremony for Missouri colleges. Our paper won sweepstakes, which is an easy way of saying all the points compiled for our efforts in about 30 categories were added up and were higher than any other school in our division. I won a few individual awards, but this sweeps award was pretty sweet. It's still sinking in what we accomplished. The sum of our parts equals the top paper in the state of Missouri among colleges our size. I'll let you in on a little secret, in the big boy division, the University of Missouri which is thought of as a premier journalism school, did not win. That's not to say it's not a quality institution for our profession, because it is, but this shows that you don't have to go to one of those schools to get a quality education and practical experience for journalism.

Next year myself and another of my colleagues will become co-editors of this paper. I only hope we can contribute on a higher level to bring home this award again next year, because right now it's pretty cool to be where we are at. Who knew several years ago when I was only dreaming of living in this town that I would not only be successful in my personal live, but finally moving in the direction of success in a profession I should have tried to get into in the first place.

How To Stop Being Me

When I go back and look at this blog, I figured something out. Number one, I wrote a lot when my wife and I were still boyfriend and girlfriend and had 300 miles worth of the Midwest between us. Number two, I wrote a lot when I worked at Commerce Bank because I had a ton of fucking time on my hands and I discovered (again) I really enjoyed writing.

I decided it would be a good idea to go back to school, get my stuff together and finish a journalism degree. Since then, my recreational writing has been reduced. I'm not happy about this. I don't want to say I had a loyal following, but I did. People enjoyed reading my stuff and it was encouraging enough to make me believe in myself. Now, I'm not sure if anyone reads this anymore. Since I only write about once a month I wouldn't blame anyone if they didn't.

In my time of non-recreational writing, I've moved from reporter to sports writer to columnist to sports editor at my school newspaper. Not too shabby for the past year and a half. I even had ambitions to be editor of the paper. After some conversations, I hoping to realize that goal. I think I've lost focus on what put me on this path in the first place.

I've made mini resolutions about getting back on the writing train. So, I'm not going to do it now. If I don't post on here for another three weeks, so be it. If I start writing every day again that's fine too.

I just think it is time to whip myself back in to shape.

A Question of Faith

Just seeing the above trailer is enough to make you reconsider some things if you are Catholic and raising children. The cat is out of the bag now, so to speak, so you wonder how much of this is really still going on. However, having actually seen this documentary it is enough to break your belief in the Catholic church. It certainly broke mine.

Without a doubt a majority of priests were not child rapists, I certainly encountered none of this as a kid and to my knowledge, neither did any of my friends. It is challenging though to identify yourself as a part of an organization who remained complicit in one of the most disturbing and shocking revelations in the 20th and this century.

This isn't the first time that Catholicism has been under the gun for controversial reasons. If you know your history, you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, it isn't that hard to find these days with all the information of the internet at your fingertips.

So, as I approach the age of 30, and while my wife and I are planning for kids getting my head around the prospect of taking my children before a church that not only turned a blind eye to these actions but circumvented the law and allowed these monsters to remain free and continue to practice their form of dirty religion is a challenge to say the least.

One thing you have to understand is that my family and my wife's family are both stout Italian (mostly) Catholic families. Our parent's generation isn't quite as hardlined as our grandparent's, however revealing to our parents that we are deciding to take our children in another direction as far as faith goes would be shocking to them.

So the question remains, how hard have people fallen into this with the Catholic church? Is it certain that Lutheran ministers or pastors at Baptist churches haven't raped children? Of course not. It's a big world out there and anything (unfortunately) is possible. Are people so fearful still of Hell that defying the church somehow puts them in an unjustifiable position with God? Does challenging a corrupt and problematic organization somehow cause you to fall out of favor with God? These I suppose are good questions to ask, but there lies the problem with the Catholic church in general. There is no room for such questions. This, coupled with the history, could make for one of the largest and long standing criminal organization with the best of intentions in the history of the world.

New Year

I am starting my sixth year on the blog which started on MySpace, then eventually migrated to its current residence when I figured out that MySpace was sooo immature. At least compared to Facebook. I'm not going to do a yearly recap, nor will I lay out resolutions I know I wouldn't be able to keep. Predicting the future was something I was never really adept at.

I will share that I am forming a new sports obsession that will no doubt get some ridicule from my friends. Soccer, or known to the other five billion people on the planet as football. Or futbol. I'm getting my toes wet by watching some Premier League games and learning the terminology, which is more difficult than I originally anticipated.

I figured since English football fans are so passionate about their clubs, I'd better pick a side and move forward. I figured cheering for Manchester United was like discovering the NBA and cheering for the Celtics in the 50's, or the Yankees in pretty much every decade in the past century. I thought Chelsea could have been a good choice, and they are one of the best clubs in the Premier League right now. But I think I'm going to settle on Arsenal. More on why later. For now, it's because their home uniforms are red, which works for me. It's my favorite color. Or colour.

Along with soccer my other Euro-passion will begin it's testing phase later this month. Formula 1 racing is something I have been very into for the past few years. I've gone on a few times about why it's much better than watching left hand turns all day, while beer swilling, redneck, racist homophobes cheer the "sport" on. So, much to be excited about despite college football commencing for the year.

School begins on Monday, so my schedule is about to become more hectic. Last semester about killed me, but the schedule will not be quite so grueling. To add to things, my unpaid internship in the Park Athletic Department begins this semester as well, which I am looking forward to with a ton of anticipation. Here is to hoping the great "go back to school" experiment pays off.

And just to show that turning 30 this hasn't detached me from being completely immature, I give you this...

Soundtracks

What is it about nostalgia that turns people on? Do you need to be a nostalgic person to find meaning in your past? I never understood people who were unable to draw some value from the places they have been. Maybe there are just some people who never admit it. There seems to be a certain sexiness to "living in the moment" and not being caught up in the past or the future. I would say that I am present with other people, but left to my own devices I spend a good portion of time reminiscing.

I would suppose that for most people who feel a sense of connection to events in their past they have certain touchstones that invoke feelings and memories. My gateway into these happenings is music. When I phase into new artists and albums I haven't heard, it seems like I am focused on forging ahead. When I dig through the library of my past, it isn't normally just to hear a tune I can't get out of my head.

People and places are trapped inside songs from a specific era in my life. When I listen to Liz Phair, I'm not just listening to "Whip Smart" because I enjoy it. Well, I do enjoy it, but I'm in my basement room at 1113 South Joliet Avenue in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I have long hair, I'm skinny, awkward and meeting new high school people who came from other middle schools. I'm meeting people I'm still friends with now, but I see them in the context of the time when sitting down with Liz. I'm in Sarah Keyman's basement, hanging out with Brienne and Kari, two people I'm still "friends" with. One more so than the other, but that isn't the point. The point is I can't just listen to this album and be detached, it has too much meaning. The music reminds me of the sounds and even the smells of the house 15 years later.

Five years ago I set out to make a compilation of music. I wanted to start it at a major fork in the road of my life. When I met the first girl I think I ever really loved, or at least took the time to try, and the splintering of my parents' marriage. Sort of the end of my "age of innocence." I figured it was significant at the time, but just never really knew why. Raging emotions, loss and discovery are major components of any teenagers life. My emotions were accelerated by the loss of trust in the failed marriage of my parents, and trying to recapture it in the powder keg of a teenage relationship. Maybe I'm too self-absorbed, and no one else looks at life like this with intense reflection and philosophical thought, but for me it is inescapable.

I don't have albums in my closet (literally), I have access to a time machine and to all the events in my life. Over Christmas break, along with cleaning and hanging drywall in our basement, I am going through all my old music and compiling them by these things which took place. I'm not sure why, but something happened with me over the past few months. I'm not sure what. Is it my quickly approaching 30th birthday? Is it because within X amount of years I'll be a father? I don't know. Somehow I doubt it. I don't fear either milestones. I think it is merely a coincidence, although my sister and her years of scholastic work would probably say otherwise...

I can't help but imagine a person who is into their life as much as I am would do it for any other reason than some self-gratifying and self-aggrandizing purpose. I feel the need to catalog my life, and I do it according to music. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Another Rebirth

So if you found your way back here, thanks for checking this blog out again. School and work has been a hurdle this semester to say the least, so the updates are few and far between on all points in my vast blogging empire (wink). I overextended myself quite a bit this fall, however I think I'll make it out in one piece, and the spring is shaping up to be more relaxed and interesting.

I also shed the blog of the great people who contributed for a spell here in recent months. Number one is that the participants are on our new Kansas City Politico blog that we will be getting off the ground with the new year. Number two is with the track record and nearly five year history of this being a personal blog, I figured it was time to get back to basics.

The blog, as some of you might remember, used to reside on my twice defunct MySpace page. To be quite honest, part of me wants to abandon Facebook as well. However, what keeps me hanging on is the direct communication between friends and family members I have limited face to face contact with. I'm not a Mafioso superstar, nor am I a prolific virtual farmer. I keeps it real.

Checkup

This semester I've found myself, I think. I've always known deep down I'm a writer. Now, whether I'm a good writer is yet to be seen. But the idea of me as a photographer or partaking in photography is something of a bug I've caught in the past couple months. I always saw it as something I had to do, or endure, when looking at my audit at Park. Now, it seems like I've find a bit of a passion. I haven't jumped in head first, or even feet first. I'd say my toe is in the water checking the temperature. I have no idea how I would use it, or what I could do with it. Sometimes it is good enough to be cognizant of something raw and new. There aren't many times in life when people can harness something like this and have the latitude to move with it. Right now, I'm just enjoying the ride.

It is, to my dismay, my season of a dosing of reality. I thought my time management skills were sharpened to a fine point, but it seems like next year I have some work to do in that arena. This is fine, because when I get comfortable and 'good' at something, I get lazy. Life has a funny way of making you evolve.

The Homestead

Things at home are evening out. I could do better to not be so snappy with Stephanie, and she's being strong and constantly showing she is the more mature person by being as patient as any human being has even been with a stressed out me. I haven't had time for anything other than things that are not particularly fun, so the residual frustration gets dumped on her. I am currently penning a document to the Vatican for early sainthood. Seriously.

My dogs are eating my house. I just thought I had to throw it out there. But they are the highlights of my life, other than my wife. It sounds cheesy, and maybe it's because I don't have children, but there is something to caring for something that is dependent on you. Missy is still digging, still posing as a menacing trickster in adorable fur, and Ted is my boy. He's over the 100 pound mark, as tall as I am and has the winningest personality of any dog I've met. He's the dude.

Anyway, a return to my old ways with this post. Completely self-absorbed like blogs are supposed to be. With finals looming I can't guarantee that I'll show my face until after the dust has settled, but there will be more frequency since I know the direction everything is going in.

Goodnight.

Back To Work: Boring Me

I haven't posted on the personal blog in awhile, so I figured what better way to make my illustrious return than writing about me and what I've been up to.

I'm knee deep in school and work, with little time for much of anything else in between. When I do get some spare time I watch some television and do some reading. I've made a few trips up to Lincoln, Nebraska to watch some football.

Some things I have been enjoying have been David Cross's "I Drink For a Reason," watching "Bored to Death" and "Dexter." Of course I'm never without my new iPod Touch and my litter of Podcasts. Some of my favorites are "WTF with Marc Maron," "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me," and of course my old standby "Smodcast" which is director Kevin Smith and his producer Scott Mosier talking for an hour or so. It's funny, trust me.

I realize this post was very boring. And short. Boring and short, just like me. But it's been awhile and I'm scared, so next time will be better. I promise :)

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart

This past Sunday morning was a pretty rough one for me. Simply put, I mixed a few too many cocktails with several pounds of assorted meat the night before. It was quite the binge, I'd say. When I awoke Sunday morning (at 4:30AM, alone, fully clothed and lying diagonally on the bed, mind you), I felt less than horrible.

That aforementioned Saturday, I had hosted a party for some "friends" at work. Bad idea...I won't make the same mistake again. Essentially, these "friends" just wanted a place to get drunk and stupid. Meanwhile, I found myself wandering around my own house, trying to talk to all the different co-workers, and feeling completely alienated when doing so. I'm not really a part of their clique at work...I fully accept that, but it was, after all, my house and I shouldn't feel alienated there, right? Right.

I remember being eighteen or nineteen or twenty-two (sort of) and attending parties of this caliber. They weren't really fun then, either, but they were at least a bit more acceptable. It was always sort of an "I don't care who I'm with as long as I'm drunk/stoned/whatever" atmosphere. I like to think I've grown way up. Fortunately, I've maintained some friendships from that era of my life. Unfortunately, there are still people out there my age and older who are a part of that crowd.

None of this is really news to me and probably isn't worth a blog post either. It was an eye-opening experience, nonetheless.

For future reference, when the wife and I have people over it will be a two-couple max at a time. So, Stephanie and Zach (if you're reading this), be prepared to come entertain us in the near future; we'll return the favor by providing you our full attention. Sorry, Zach--no Bacon Explosion--ever again.

BFF,
JFW

You Say Tomato...

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel stuck in the middle? Most of the time I feel like a man shouting in an echo chamber when it comes to my conservative versus liberal friends and family members. I'll get emails from my Dad telling me how my guns I don't own will be taken away. I used to get emails saying how George Bush was listening to my phone calls and I should be worried. Because telling my wife to pick up bananas at the store is important information.

It's a culture of fear, and it is choking us to death. The public at large is taking their eye off the ball while casting stones at one another. Middle age white men line the streets and take the day off work to protest tax increases that didn't, and might not happen. Gay men and women march to protest their right to be married. Why are we waiting for a pat on the butt from a government we all say we don't trust? Why do we feel the need to be validated by something we dislike?

More questions than answers, which is a roadblock for everyone. The path to resolution is paved with an easy answer these days. Watching white men over history try and protect what their idea of American should be is appalling in history books. It's even more astounding watching this generation claw at it as it slips away. Latina women on the Supreme Court, a black guy with supposedly no birth certificate in the White House, and affirmative action taking their jobs. It's enough to make you think we white guys are about to be lined up next to dinosaurs and Dodo birds.

Back to everyone freaking out and attacking the people on the other side of the fence... I'll leave you with this. When talking politics these days, it's not about which political party is going to screw you. It's about when and both sides with their hands on the hot poker in your backs side will choose to shove it in.

I've got something to look forward to.

Going to see Neko Case with my wife coming up later this month, and I'm pretty pumped up about it. Here is a 20 minute interview with her. The DJ, or host if you will, is your garden variety broadcast douchebag, but the live performance with her bandmates is pretty cool. If you've never heard Ms. Case, or didn't know who she is, you should check her out.

Enjoy!

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.