We all get our fill of ups and downs. 

Life is a roller coaster. Cliche, but true.  We all suffer the inevitable ups and downs throughout life.  Really, all of them are survivable.  Rarely are any truly a matter of life or death.  Yet it's the lows that make us feel as though we are at the brink of annihilation.  It's at those times that we must remember that it's not so.  We are going to survive.  We are going to triumph over "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune".  Most likely we will come out stronger than we were before.  Oh, I suppose there is that slim chance that we will come out of the fog and not see daylight.  Or perhaps the "daylight" we see is actually a meteorite coming straight for us.  On the bright side, if that's the case we won't feel a thing.

Things could be worse, you know.  For me, I know I have people that love me, even though I am a total jackass at times.  I have a wife that, for reasons unknown, continues to love me and put up with me even though I have given her ample reasons to throw in the towel.  For some reason she continues to love me almost as unconditionally as my dogs.  That's something that should never be taken for granted.

Speaking of my dogs, I have two dogs that even if I leave them outside for 3 hours in the cold, when I finally remember to let them in they aren't mad at me for leaving them out for so long.  On the contrary they are happier than ever to see me.  If they could speak, they would tell me about their terrible ordeal and at the end of the story proclaim that it's time for us to go snuggle to warm them up.  Not once would they point the finger at me.  If you want to know the meaning of unconditional love, buy a dog. 

Yes, it's important to remember that most things we deal with in everyday life isn't going to kill us.  Even some of the harshest things we come up against will leave us alive and actually invigorated for the next challenge that life throws at us.  Really, we should save all of our anxiety for when we are dealing with something that will actually kill us.  Cancer, heart attack, shark attack or killer bees.  Those are the things we should trouble ourselves with.  In the meantime, enjoy life, even in the imperfect state we must.  Even with the bills, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and extra pounds, it's all a heck of a lot better than pushing up daisies. 

In one of the worst Aerosmith songs ever, Steven Tyler belted out the lyrics, "Eat the rich...."  For years this was just an annoying song put out by a washed up band that was great once.  Today though, it is a war cry that I embrace.  Now, the thing I always found ironic about Aerosmith's song was that you would think it would be clear to everyone that Steven Tyler and the rest of his gang are pretty dadgum rich.  I never could quite figure out what Steven Tyler was thinking.  Did he actually think that we didn't know he was rich?  But I digress, as I often do.  Regardless, Mr. Tyler had a very good point, especially if you read through the lyrics, if you can stomach it.  He said, "Eat the rich, there is only one thing they are good for.  Eat the rich, take one bite now and come back for more."  Yep, the rich are pretty much useless. 

Now, how does this apply to Stinkin' Lincoln?  Well, Lincoln is a hot bed for rich people that don't know how to act like humans.  I am not sure if it's the fact that they are "New Money", "Old Money" or just horrible human beings.  No matter the case, it's pretty clear you are dealing with a rich person in Lincoln by the way they carry themselves and treat you.  They truly think their poop doesn't stink.  I am here to tell you that your poop does indeed stink.  In fact, most of us humble poor folk can smell you coming a mile away.  Now, don't get me wrong, there are some rich folks that I have had a great pleasure to deal with here in Lincoln.  However, it always seems like they are from somewhere else when they are rich AND kind AND live here. 

Let's get down to some examples, which should keep your thoroughly entertained.  First, let's discuss a family that my wife was cleaning house for.  Prior to cleaning for these people, my wife cleaned the very same house for a family that my wife had been working for the past 16 years.  This family had become very close friends and had actually helped us out financially on more than a few occasions and are just wonderful all around people.  The funny thing is they were rich.  I am not sure exactly how rich, but I do know they had no shortage of funds.  In fact, they would sometimes pay my wife a year in advance.  I mean, who does that?  Like I said before, this type of rich person is usually from somewhere else.  The gentleman was born in Spain, went to school in England and always dressed like a Scotsman for some strange reason.  The lady was from Missouri, but was highly educated and a professor at the University of Nebraska. 

Recently they decided to get the heck out of Nebraska before they had to deal with another winter.  They put the house up for sale and started looking for a new place to live in a much warmer and/or more scenic place.  The house sold and our friends recommended us to clean for the new owners.  It was after this that things went south.  Our friends went to go close the deal and the family that bought their house "forgot" a check they were supposed to give to our friends at closing.  I believe it was for several thousands dollars.  Needless to say, our friends never saw that money.  There were also a couple other petty things that happened prior to and at closing.  Once the new owners took possession of the house, they called my wife to see if she would be willing to clean for them.  She agreed, but did so cautiously.  Very early on it was apparent that what these people wanted was Alice from the Brady Bunch.  My wife would show up at the house to clean and there would be close all over the floor in all the bedrooms. The living room floor would be covered with kids toys and the kitchen would look like a Thanksgiving dinner had just been prepared.  As you may have guessed, my wife quit after just a couple weeks. 

We came to find out that these people were loaded!  Like most rich people, they seem to have some sentimental attachment to their money and they just don't want to spend it unless they are taking advantage of someone else.  They have to get the most bang for their buck.  Apparently that meant that my wife was to pickup the entire house and clean what was underneath.  Personally I would have liked for them to have set my wife up with a little maids outfit.  (Hey, I can dream.)

Rich-folk are also some of the most inconsiderate people I have ever seen.  Like the lady sitting in her Range Rover in front of Starbucks taking up one of two lanes that run in front of the shop.  As a result, traffic in this very busy parking lot is having to navigate around her.  Or how about the lady at the local brew-pub that just arrived in the bar during dinner time rush on a Saturday that marches into the bar area where it is "seat yourself" and proceeds to take a table a nice older couple had been waiting on for the last 15 minutes.  Her and her Coach purse and her son wearing his Pius X letterman jacket all seemed to enjoy and be completely oblivious while enjoying their ill-gotten table and fantastic view of the Packers vs. Vikings playoff game on the TV.  (By the way, Pius X is a private Catholic school here in Lincoln where all the super rich kids go.) 

You may be wondering what brought on this disdain for the rich in me.  Or maybe you aren't.  Well, I hope you were wondering because I am going to tell you.  First of all, it's always been there for as long as I can remember.  At a very early age I came to realize that the rich were horrid people.  My family had been dealing with a Fortune 500 company since 1966.  But really, it wasn't until recently that the evil that exists in the rich truly rose to the surface.  Over those years, the company never let us get rich performing the service we were providing, but they always treated us relatively fair.  A couple of years ago they approached us and said you can keep working for us if you agree to be paid X amount.  X amount was 40 percent lower than what we had been making.  We agreed to be paid this amount, basically because we had no choice. 

Then they got 4 months behind in paying us.  A Fortune 500 company being 4 months behind on paying is utterly is a ridiculous.  At that point, we had to quit or declare bankruptcy.  We chose to quit.  Now here is the kicker; over the last quarter, this company has recorded record profits.  The way they have done this is by screwing every person that has ever been in contact with them and helped them get to where they are today.  That is except the corporate officers.  They are taking McDonald's Supersized bonuses. 

I have to say, that I am shocked that more people don't go "Postal" on people like that.  If they did, could anyone blame them?  Rich people are our modern day plague.  They are sucking the life out of all of us and laughing all the way to the bank.  The really funny thing though, is that at some point, they will run out of people to leach off of.  The honest truth is that the rich are dumb.  They are short sighted.  They don't realize that at some point people are going to freak out and fight back, or there won't be anything left to try and take.  We will have been sucked dry by then.  At which point, I would think that the rich should start designing some designer bullet proof vests.  Because it seems that no matter how poor some people may be, they always have access to guns and ammo.  I bet if Coach and Kevlar could get together and design something fabulous!

Empowered by Anonymity

Let's talk a little bit about a word I can't say three times fast, but if called upon, could type three times fast.  The word I am referring to is, "anonymity".

People these days seem to bask in the ability to be anonymous.  I mean, let's face it, we are all a little bit more comfortable to do things that we would not normally do if we can do it from a place of concealment (I point to me and my blog).

Think about some of the things that we have the opportunity to do in relative anonymity.  In this technological age we live in, there are any number of things we can do in anonymity.  After all, most of the technology we use was designed by some guy living in his mothers basement and when they come out, they are socially awkward to the Nth degree. Therefore they needed something that would help them interact with people, but not actually interact with them.  Yes, because of these geeks, we are able to get on message boards and make comments on other people's posts by berating, making fun of, or agreeing with them and do so in obscure privacy.  We can go to blogs and comment on the articles that have been written or comment on others comments and do so anonymously.  In some cases we have to have a screen name to be able to comment, but on others, we can comment completely anonymously.  Really though, unless we know the person on the other end of "Sam I Am", anything that person posts under that screen name is done in obscure privacy. 

Another part of technology today is text messaging.  Of course we usually know who is texting us, however, it still gives us a measure of anonymity.  How so?  Well, when I was a little kid, and my parents would ask me what I thought was an embarrassing question, I would put a blanket over my head and answer the question.  If they could not see me, somehow it was easier to tell them that I had a crush on 15 year old girl when I was just 7 years old.  Almost certainly, it can be said that when we text message someone and tell them something we normally would not be able to say to them face to face, it's like we have pulled that blanket over our head so we can let them know what we could not bring ourselves to tell them face to face. 

Really, even while driving we are somewhat anonymous.  Of course others can see us, but after we cut someone off, or after they cut us off, we can, from the safety of our cars, yell at the other driver, or even get into a conversation with them using our limited knowledge of sign language. 

Yes, the ability to make ones self anonymous is empowering for some.  But really, what is anonymity in the sense we are talking about?  Cowardice, spinelessness, and gutlessness.  It's funny to me, in a sick and twisted way, that if we were in a grocery store, we would never start heading to the checkouts and break into a sprint with our cart full of groceries in order to beat the little old lady in front of us to the open checkout lane.  Why not?  Because for one, it is socially unacceptable to do so.  If we did that, everyone around us would be looking at us like we were a jerk, and rightly so.  There is also the possibility of the little old lady's body building grandson observing from a distance what we have done and him coming over to twist our head like a pepper mill.  Yet, you put that same little old lady and her freakishly large grandson in a Honda Civic and they are fair game.

I bring all of this up because over the past couple years I have had a few nasty comments left on a few different posts.  What makes me laugh is when these people leave there comments they don't even have the huevos to leave their name, it simply says, "Anonymous".  As I am typing this, I have a grin on my face because of the fact that the anonymity that they desire, really just makes them a coward of the highest order, and nobody respects anything they have taken the time and energy to type.  The latest comment left was obviously left by someone I know.  They said that my family name is "synonymous with 'chip on their shoulders'" and then proceeded to insult my grandparents.  Well, whoever you are, I would be happy to sit down and talk with you about whatever it is that my family or I did to you to make you such a bitter, gutless, twit.  However, I am sure you enjoy the anonymous darkness in which you dwell.  Much safer there, isn't it.

The moral of the story is, we should all be careful with the empowering anonymity that comes with the world we live in.  Even I have learned a lesson or two while writing this blog.  That being the case, I try hard to not hurt any one's feelings, because when you hurt feelings, you just end up in their living room trying to explain that most of what I say is very tongue in cheek or should not be taken too seriously.  However, like a very brilliant friend of mine has said on occasion, "Some people don't even know they have feelings until you hurt them."  Therefore, I like to think I am doing a public service and helping people get in touch with their feelings.  With that I offer you a wholehearted, "You are welcome!". 

What makes Stinkin' Lincoln Stinkin' Lincoln?

These guys get me!

I am sure there are people out there that wonder why I am not exactly in love with living in Stinkin' Lincoln.  After all, it's a relatively nice place.  It's clean, there's a fairly low crime rate, you don't have to travel far to the Husker games and there is approximately one bar per capita along O Street alone.  So why the disdain for the state capital?  There are things that annoy me about this town, such as the traffic, the difference in the people, the Omaha haters and things like that, but those aren't great reasons to hate this place.  Really, I think when it boils right down to it, it's mostly the fact that it's not truly my home.  Omaha has always been and will always be home.  It's not because Omaha is such an awesome place that everything pales in comparison.  In all actuality it's the people.  It's my family and friends that I have been associated with for years and some for decades.  They are all people that understand me.

Here in Stinkin' Lincoln, I am a bit of an enigma.  Sometimes I will crack a joke and people won't even understand that I am joking, or I will make a statement and people will think I am joking.  Sometimes I will be very serious about a conversation or a task I am involved in and people will think I am cold and a bit of a jerk.  Or because I was at a meeting or something with someone and if I don't go seek that person out to glad hand with them before or after the meeting that person thinks I don't like them.  Or because I didn't answer my cell phone when they call, they think I am avoiding them.

I will say, I probably am a tough person to figure out.  For some reason though, in Omaha, people that have known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper, they get me. I can just be me and I don't have to be on guard all the time so I make sure I don't hurt someone's feelings or make them think I don't like them.  There really is nothing quite as wonderful as being able to just be ones self. 

It always amazes me how I will occasionally run into someone I knew before I left Omaha and we will have a conversation just like we had just seen each other the day before rather than there being 16 years in between our last conversation. 

I was reading a web article entitled, "The Top 5 Regrets People Have on Their Deathbed", and number 4 was, "I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends."  The great thing about the people I know from Omaha is that they make it very easy to stay in touch.  It's a rare occasion that someone you knew years ago treats you coldly or like you mean nothing to them now.  I am sure this is not exclusive to Omaha, but it's where I get to experience it, so it makes it special for me.  Therefore, wishing I had stayed in touch with my friends will most likely not be something I am regretting on my deathbed.  However, it's still fairly early in life.  I could still screw it up. 

After all things have been considered, I hope that Stinkin' Lincolnites will understand I don't really hate their beloved city.  I may poke fun at it from time to time, but I am sure that the Lincoln city planners really aren't Larry, Curly and Moe.  Really, it's just the fact that my real home is 55 miles to the Northeast. 

Lincoln Traffic: I-80 East Edition

Excuse me sir, do you have any Grey Poupon?

It's been quite some time since I have touched on the wonderfully entertaining subject that is Lincoln Traffic.  I think I have stretched things a bit in this edition, but I think you will agree with me that it should still be considered part of Lincoln's traffic Gordian Knot (Google it).

In the recent past, I had to drive to Omaha about once a week for work.  The way things are now (long story which can be read two blogs ago), I only make the trek to Omaha about every three week or so.  Regardless, there has remained one constant.  The Stinkin' Lincoln inhabitants making their way to Omaha on I-80 are dangerous!  Seriously, it's amazing people don't die daily on I-80 between Lincoln and Omaha in the East bound lane.  Now, let me paint the picture for you so you can understand where I am coming from.

First of all, you get on the interstate at the Waverly entrance where it is currently under construction but is still two lanes heading East and there are concrete barriers on the left and right for the first couple miles.  As you get on and merge into traffic, you can immediately identify the Lincolnites.  They are the ones who's knuckles are white as the driven snow since they have to drive a whole 60 MPH through this "tight" area where those concrete barriers could jump out at us at any moment.  Not only are they in a state of complete fear, they can't seem to keep an eye on the speed limit.  Therefore they are only driving somewhere between 50-65 MPH if you are lucky.  Then you find an opening in the traffic to pass this Bozo and as you are driving by, you look over to give the guy a dirty look and they won't take their eyes off the road for even a second.  Which is really all for the best because those eyes are filled to the brim with fear, but very unfulfilling for me because I had one doozy of dirty luck ready for them.

After several miles, we get through the stretch of interstate that is two lanes and we come to Greenwood, NE where the interstate construction has been completed and there are three wide open lanes with no concrete barriers to make the Lincolnites' tummies hurt from all that anxiety.  Now that things have opened up, you would think that the average Lincolnite would no longer make himself a nuisance.  Well, you would be wrong.  At this point, the Lincolnites take a position in the center lane (which is called, THE PASSING LANE for all you Lincolnites reading this), and decide now would be a good time to get out their cell phones and either send that important text or to call their mommies and let them know they made it through the ever so dangerous, two lane portion of the interstate.  Regardless of their reason for making their phone call or sending that text, they drive at a snails pace down the middle of the interstate while swerving from one side of the lane to the next.  Meanwhile, you are trying to decide if it's safe to pass this person since they are obviously taking care of some very important business that just couldn't wait until they got out of their vehicles, or at the very least off the interstate.

Finally, you get up the courage to pass this swerving idiot from Lincoln and put the hammer down and blow the Lincolnites' doors off.  No sooner do you get past him and you notice that the Lincolnite has noticed he has been passed, therefore he has to speed up.  Next thing you know, this driving lunatic is next to you and as you look over, you notice it's time for him to send another flippin' text message!  So you speed up again in an attempt to get in front of this Lincolnite moron.  As you get passed the guy, you look in your rearview mirror only to see this guy looking up from his cell phone and realizing he isn't keeping up with traffic, so of course, he speeds up.

It's at this point that I usually have had enough and am actually a little bit scared that this ninny might just remember he needs to text or phone his Nana to let her know he was thinking of her instead of thinking about the stretch of interstate he has been driving on!  So, it's time to put the hammer down and leave this boob in my dust.  "Burn some dust!  Eat my rubber!"  (Good ol' Clark Griswold)

Usually by this time I have made it to Omaha alive...usually.  Hopefully if you are a Lincolnite and you read this, you won't be incredibly offended by my disdain for the Lincoln driver.  Afterall, you can't help it.  It's not your fault that the city of Lincoln chose to make getting around town an experience that can only be survived by crawling into the inner recesses of your mind and basically driving in a trance-like state.  By necessity very little of your brain is used while driving in Lincoln.  Otherwise you would realize how incredibly stupid the whole process is and would most likely find the nearest cliff to drive off of.  Even I, an Omaha native, born and raised, goes into that trance-like state.  It's purely a survival tactic our brain uses to keep us alive.

No, instead of being offended by this issue of Stinkin' Lincoln, I hope you will use this as an opportunity to be self aware while driving East bound on I-80.  If you look at it that way, you will see this blog for what it is; A public service announcement.  Drive safe Lincoln!

The Jerk Store Called...

It could be worse.  I could be this guy. 

I have come to a realization.  I am a jerk, and really, that is putting it rather mildly. I am holding back from using some words that probably describe me in a very succinct way.  However, I will spare you the vulgarity that would otherwise be used.

Actually, my being a jerk is really something I have known for years, if not my whole life.  But I figured at some point I would grow out of it, or perhaps people would just accept it as part of my unique personality.  Although, people should never have to "accept" a person for being a jerk.  I would never ask anyone to do that.  At any rate, it appears I won't be growing out of it.  In fact I have reached an age where certain traits are ingrained and will probably never be extracted from my personality, be that for the good or bad.

You may be asking, why on earth would I decide to tell this to my meager fan-base?  To be honest, I have had writers block lately and could not really think of anything else to write about.  However, I feel it is worth writing about because I want the world to know that I recognize my foremost shortcoming.  I want you to know why I am this way.  The truth is, I really do not know why, so this will be an exploration into my psyche for us all.  Sometimes I can just start writing and next thing we know I am deep into the hell that is my mind.  At this moment, I feel we may already be about three fathoms into this deep, dark place, so I hope you brought a light, because I am almost positive we will not be able to see our hand in front of our face in here.

Why am I this way?  I had a good childhood.  I was an only child, but I had a couple of families my parents were friends with that had a group of brothers that I felt were almost as close as brothers could have ever been.  We played football, baseball, basketball and any other kind of ball we could find.  Sometimes we did not even have a ball.  We just used up a balled up wad of tape.  Our parents did not like us to play with guns, so we made our own out of Legos.  We played hide and seek at night in golf courses, cemeteries, corn fields, and throughout entire city blocks.  Then as I got older I made many friends and had about as much fun in life as I probably could have and definitely more than I should have. 

My parents took very good care of me physically and materially.   I had a great relationship with my grandfather on my dad's side and loved the other three grandparents, even if they had their quirks.  I got to see Star Wars, E.T. and Raiders of the Lost Arc.  I had a "girlfriend" in kindergarten for crying out loud.  (Then there was a long 11 year drought in the girlfriend department. Throughout that time I hoped I hadn't peaked at 6 years old.)

That was the positive, now on to the negative I had in my life.  I hated school with a passion.  I was treated like crap for being a porky, short and awkward adolescent.  Fatboy, Butterball, and Fat Ass were some of my nicknames throughout Junior High and my Freshman and Sophomore years.  That all ended when I showed up Junior year having grown out of most of the baby fat. 

Additionally, I hardly ever tried in school.  Almost every teacher I ever had said I had a great deal of potential if I would just try.  I had a counselor tell me once that the reason I was the way I was in school was because I found school boring because it did not challenge me (and then he sent me back to my same old boring class.  Good job Mr. Counselor.).  I would agree with what the counselor said in some ways, but man do I hate math and I do not think that has anything to do with me being bored with it.  I was always a rockstar when it came to English courses.  When I was in 4th grade I tested at a college level in English.  Even so, pretty much this is the way every semester went in school: 1st Quarter D average, 2nd Quarter C average, 3rd Quarter F average, 4th Quarter C- average.  I actually almost flunked English my senior year which would have meant summer school, so I went from an F- average in 3rd quarter to a D+.  I am the quintessential under-achiever.

Then there was a period of time in my life where I felt like everyone I knew was going away in one way or another.  Guys I grew up with choosing to run off with worthless girls...or in one case another guy.  Pretty much every girl I ever dated wound up in trouble in some way or another.  My first "love" dumped me like last weeks garbage.  Then I was so hung up on her I probably was blind to other opportunities that were right in front of me.

However, most of my friends that got drug off by girls came back (Can't say the same for the guy that went off with the other guy).   I ended up marrying a wonderful person and great friend.  I ran a successful business for 15 years.   So why the heck am I such a jerk?

Sure there were a few things like school, verbal abuse, and anxiety that I dealt with when I was younger.  I had my beliefs about friends being inseparable shattered to a million pieces.  I had my heart stepped on by a girl and then I was too protective of it.  After 15 years of running that successful business I had to drop our biggest account because they no longer felt like treating us as a business partner but rather they treated us like poop on a shoe.

Really though, these are not the reasons I am a jerk.  Partly it comes down to genetics.  From what I understand my great grand father was a boozing, womanizing, physically abusive man.  As a result my grandmother is not the worlds nicest person.  On top of that, there are some people I am related to that are Coo-Coo for Coco Puffs and that goes back a couple generations.  Hence, you can see that I have all kinds of things going against me in the genetics department. 

Another, I think obvious cause to me being a jerk, is me being an only child.  I am used to getting my way, I think I am right all the time, and I think there should always be a just way to handle things.  Therefore, if I don't get my way, you prove me wrong, or there is a perceived injustice, I will most likely deal with you in a harsh, bombastic way.

Most of all though, I am a jerk because I am stuck in stinkin' Lincoln. I have been trying to get out of this place for 15 years, and hear I sit.

With all of these things in mind, let me say I am making no excuses.  I would love nothing more than being the chipper, always bright eyed and bushy tailed guy that you cut off in traffic and he just waves and says he's sorry for being in your way.  Instead I am the guy that after being cut off might reach for his bottle of water and think very seriously about chucking it at the offender. (99.9999999% of the time I stop myself.)  I wish I was the guy that could just be content with everything that life bestows upon him.  Instead I am the guy that looks at his situation and thinks, "Why didn't I take that left turn instead of a right? Maybe things would have worked out better that way."

All I can say is, thank goodness for pharmaceuticals!  You should thank goodness too.  Otherwise you could be driving along and unknowingly cut someone off and then moments later feel the sting of a half empty water bottle striking the side of your head. 

Corporate Ameri-DUHHHHH

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to put the kids to bed and make sure your parents hearing aids are turned down, because I am about to go off!  Believe it or not, this blog thing is not how I make my living.  No, I get to deal with a Fortune 500 company on a daily basis by supplying a service to them.  For many years it was a great relationship.  We took care of them at a very reasonable price and they paid in a timely manner.  All that has changed as of late and really it's just a microcosm of Corporate America.  A bunch of people sit in a room staring at numbers decide that they are paying everyone too much.  Everybody from the executive assistant all the way down to the janitor.  Of course you notice that it does not continue on up the food chain to include the people that really should have some of their fat cut.  No, the executives all make sure they get theirs.  Afterall, they are the ones that figured out how to screw everyone and ended up with piles of money that they do not know what to do with.  May as well divvy it out amongst themselves in bonus form.

Yes, it's been interesting watching this particular company slash their own throats in the name of short term gains.  They continue to cut payroll budgets so that there is no one in their store to wait on their customers.  They shortened their store hours in some cases so you go there to make a late night run to pick up something you need and find out the store is closed.  You ask to talk to a manager and you get some pimply faced kid that doesn't have a clue about anything that is not related to the video games he plays in his mother's basement, yet he acts like he knows it all.

The company does this all so it can increase it's earnings, not looking at any of the long term consequences of their actions.  It does not matter, because whoever is running the company today will most likely be working for a completely different company once the consequences come to fruition.  They will have moved on to the next company to rape and pillage after having made their millions and boosted their career by "turning around" a beleaguered Fortune 500 company.  When the poo hits the turbine it will not look like it was their fault, it was whoever was manning the helm when the poo went "WHOP!!".  That is the way Corporate America operates.  CEOs, CFOs, COOs and the like move from one gig to another trying to drum up short term earnings so they can cash their million dollar checks.  They continue to screw over all the hard working people that actually do the work that makes the company it's money.  In my mind Corporate America is trying to reinstitute slavery in America.  Now, I am sure that NAACP just gasped, but hear me out.  I am not saying that what corporations are doing today is as bad as what African Americans had to endure.  Not by a long shot.  But what made a lot of people rich back in the infancy of the United States is the fact that they had relatively free labor.  Yes they had to house and feed their slaves, but that was way cheaper that having to actually pay someone to do their work.  That's how Thomas Jefferson made his fortune and there were hundreds if not thousands of others that did the same thing and got rich doing it.  Today, Corporate America has made sure that nobody is able to make a comfortable living, except for the company big wigs of course.  To me, this is a form of slavery.  This time though, it isn't a race of people being used as slaves, it's a class of people, but hey, it's just business, it's nothing personal.  That's what they tell themselves so they can sleep at night.

So, getting back to my story, at one time this was a great company to be involved with.  But a bunch of people in suits staring at numbers saw a number they did not like.  Without doing any research and figuring out if it was a reasonable number or not, they just made a decision that the number had to be lowered.  Keep in mind this is a number that the local stores have been trying to get lowered for years, but they took bid after bid after bid and could never find anything lower.  Or at least a lower bid from people with all their teeth and without a criminal record.  However, the suits, they knew better, there had to be a way to force their hand.  So, they just said, this is how much we will pay you, take it or leave it.  This was several years ago when everyone was wondering if the bottom was going to fall out of the financial system, so work was hard to come by.  We chose to stick with it and try to figure out a way to make it work.  Now that our contract is almost up, we are hearing that once again they are going to try and make us take another pay cut.  Let's just say I've been exfoliating my backside and applying ample amounts of moisturizer to said area in anticipation of the lips that will soon be puckering up to kiss my fat, hairy, soft and supple A**!!!!

Pucker up buttercup!

How Did the Holocaust Come to Be?

Well, I learned me sumpin today!  Who says Netflix is a time waster?  Lately I have been doing research on the Nazis and Adolf Hitler.  I wanted to know where all that hate for people that were not acceptable in the eyes of the Nazi came from.  That led me to a few documentaries about World War II, Auschwitz, Hitler and the Nazi party.  How the extermination of Jews, Gypsies, Jehovah's Witnesses and homosexuals became synonymous with Hitler and the Nazi part is actually a very interesting subject.  A subject that had beginnings that were not unlike the United States and many other "thinking" and "developed" countries. 

Now, before you fly off the handle and label me as a hater of the United States, please read on.  In the early 1900's (1920-1940), a school of thought surfaced among "thinking" and "developed" nations.  At the time, Charles Darwin's theory of evolution had really taken hold.  Of course, Darwin's theory of natural selection was a prime part of his theory of evolution.  Darwin believed that the strong would survive and pass along their positive qualities to the next generation, and the weak, would slowly die off and take their bad qualities with them.  Therefore, Darwin concluded, mankind would eventually reach perfection.  As a result, "thinking" people wondered, "Well, what if we helped that natural selection along and helped weed out the weak, sick, disabled, mentally retarded and dumb!?" 

It was in the 1920's and 30's that sterilization became a popular way to keep the undesirables from reproducing.  The idea being to rid the undesirable people, "help" the natural selection process along and speed up the process.  In fact by the middle of the 1930's, more than half the states in the United Sates had passed laws that authorized the sterilization of "inmates of mental institutions, persons convicted more than once of sex crimes, those doomed to be feeble-minded by 10 tests, 'moral degenerate persons,' and epileptics."

Then, there was the Buck v. Bell case, brought before the United States Supreme Court, (1927), a ruling that upheld a statute instituting compulsory sterilization of the unfit, including the mentally retarded, "for the protection and health of the state." It was largely seen as an endorsement of negative eugenics—the attempt to improve the human race by eliminating "defectives" from the gene pool. 

This ruling was actually used by the Nazi party to make the relatively small leap to the idea of eugenic killings in Nazi Germany.  But to me, it is amazing to think that the United States really had the same mind set as Nazi Germany.  Obviously the United States snapped back to reality once another country dared to kill in the name of eventual human perfection.  Who knows where we would be now had that genocide been allowed to continue here in our home. 

To me, it just shows the dangers that are involved in the theory of evolution.  If we evolved, why not just "help" out the natural selection process and speed up our eventual arrival at perfection?  If we evolved, there really is no such thing as morals or conscience, so why not just do what is believed to be a foregone conclusion anyway?  Fortunately, Adolf Hitler answered these questions for us.  We do have a conscience, unlike other primates.  We are guided by morals, unlike other primates.  So, really, the conclusion of the matter should be quite evident. 

Getting Older

I am sure I will get little sympathy from those of you that are older than myself, but I think I have started down that downward path known as getting older.  By this time next year, I will be well into my 40th year on this planet.  Which makes me think of a line from the movie, "On Golden Pond".   Dabney Coleman's character asks Henry Fonda's character, "So, how does it feel to turn 80?", and without skipping a beat, Henry Fonda says, "Twice as bad as turning 40!"  I have waited nearly 30 years to start to understand how bad it feels to turn 40 just so I could get some perspective on what Fonda was getting at.  To be honest though, it really isn't that bad, or at least not as bad as I perceived it would be back when I thought 40 was ancient.  I certainly don't feel that bad.  Sure, I have started to collect prescription vial like I used to collect baseball cards, but all in all, I don't feel that bad (Sounds like I am trying to convince myself, doesn't it?)

Granted, I have had four shoulder surgeries, my neck is suffering the effects of whiplash from a car accident and from football collisions, my cholesterol is high, my blood pressure is high, and I could drop a good 30 pounds and it would be considered a good start.  However, I don't think that I have started to play the part of the "old fart" as of yet.  I still know how to have fun (as long as it includes a nap before and/or after said fun), and I still have the same immature sense of humor I always have.  Partly, I think that is why many younger people like me or at least tolerate me.  I can joke around and have fun with them.  Plus, there is an advantage to having an overnight job.  They usually run out of gas before I do, so then they figure the "old guy" is a party animal...even if I do have to sleep for an entire day to recover from trying to party like a rockstar. 

That being said, I believe I have started to not be able to identify with the "cool" younger folks.  I have started to sound like my parents sounded when I was young and cool.  For instance, I don't get music today.  To me, it all is pretty dreadful and for the most part all sounds exactly the same.  Sure, I can tell the difference between Daughtry and Gym Class Heros, but to me one sounds about as unoriginal as the other.  Which is precisely what my parents used to say about the music I listened to back in the 80's.  They used to belittle the cover songs that ended up being popular in the 80's and 90's.  Well guess what, I do the same thing today when it comes to the songs of my youth being covered.  As an example, Miley Cyrus has been covering 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' on her current tour.  I am sorry, but, NO!  To me this is sacrilege.  She may as well be up there wiping her butt with an American flag in front of a bunch of NRA members.  You DO NOT cover a song from a band like Nirvana unless you can just rip it up and make it your own.  Needless to say, Miley didn't do that by any stretch of the imagination. 

I think the worst thing, by far, about getting older is watching people you have known your whole life make really bad decisions and it ruins their life on many levels.  It's a very helpless feeling.  Then in the same vein is watching people that you thought were old when you were a kid actually turn old.  I've lost both of my grandfathers to death.  Growing up, though I thought they were old, they were always very active and vibrant.  To watch them slowly fade away was difficult. 

Of course, getting older has it's advantages.  When you talk, people will actually listen to what you have to say.  You know how to do things on your own, like build a garage or fix an electrical outlet, both without being severely injured.  You can go to your mechanic and tell them exactly what you need done on your car without having to try to explain the weird noise it was making by demonstrating those noises for them.  You finally have enough connections that you can get Husker tickets to virtually any game you would like to see. 

Hopefully there are things coming as I continue down the other side of the hill that will make getting old a pleasant surprise.  I never imagined I would be this old, but now that I AM this old, I may as well embrace it and enjoy the ride down the long and winding road. 

Show Some Manners...Jerk!

I find it highly interesting how the 55 miles between Omaha and Lincoln may as well be the Grand Canyon. The people of Lincoln seem to have a definite aversion to the people of Omaha. Really, it's no wonder. The people from each city are top to bottom different from each other. When I go back to Omaha, specifically back to my old part of town, South Omaha, it astonishes me how people are much more polite and friendly than in Lincoln. People in Omaha seem to have been taught something that is quickly fading from humanity in general, including Stinkin' Lincoln. Yes, it's the long lost art of manners. Perhaps you have heard of them. However, just in case the term has no meaning to you, let me explain. You see, when another human being does a nice thing like hold open a door for you, what you are supposed to say is, "Thank you." Or maybe you bump into someone, at this point you are supposed to say, "Excuse me," or maybe, "I'm sorry." These expressions seem to be missing from the Lincolnite lexicon.

This brings us to the whole reason why I decided to blog tonight. I had a run in earlier today with a self absorbed, rude, tactless jerk. Am I being melodramatic? You be the judge:

As I was heading to work, I left with just enough extra time to run an errand. I had some packages that I needed to get shipped, so I headed to the UPS Store. I pulled up to the little strip mall that the store inhabits and noticed that I had my pick of a few parking spots right in front of the store. After parking, I gather my packages together and head into the store. I had them all prepaid for, so it was a very quick transaction. Upon finishing, I headed for the exit and as I opened the door, a gentleman (I use the term loosely) coming in got to the door at about the same time. I stepped aside and let him come in. I didn't even think about it at the time, but I didn't get any sort of acknowledgement for the gesture. No "thanks", no "excuse me", not even a head nod. What made me think of this later on, was what happened next.

I step towards my car I noticed that someone had parked their truck directly behind me and boxed me in. The baffling part was when I looked over to the empty parking stall two stalls down. I examined the truck and tried to think if any of my friends drive a 2005-ish Mazda pickup, because the most logical reason for parking behind someone when there is an open spot just a few feet away is that it has to be some kind of joke. But, I was sure none of my friends drove a truck like this. So, I looked around at the potential places the owner could be. I came to the conclusion that it must be the fella that was going into the UPS Store as I was leaving.

Then I thought, maybe I could just wait it out until he is done. But that's when I looked at my watch and saw I was running a little late now. So I walk with a purpose back into the UPS Store and see the suspect standing at the counter speaking with the customer service representative. I approach the suspect and ask him if that is his truck out there parked behind me. He looks over at me, clearly annoyed that I have interrupted his conversation and says, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute." In return, I say, "Well, I am late for work, if you could move it now I would appreciate it." He looks at me again, this time even more annoyed and fires back, "I said, I will be there in a minute. I am almost done." It's at this point when I hear this voice that sounds exactly like mine say, "Oh, okay...jerk."

When I realized it was indeed my voice that uttered those words, I headed for the exit. Once I got outside and was waiting for the nice man to come move his truck, I reassessed what had happened, and came to the conclusion that I was spot on with my remark (Usually though, it's best to keep such realizations to ones self. That being said, from this point on, the man parked behind me will be referred to simply as "Jerk"). As I saw Jerk exit the store, I opened up my car door and started to get in. That's when Jerk unloaded on me. "YOU CALL ME A JERK, MAYBE YOU SHOULD LOOK IN THE MIRROR! IF YOU WOULD HAVE JUST LET ME FINISH UP IN THERE INSTEAD OF INTERRUPTING ME, I COULD HAVE GOTTEN DONE FASTER! I WASN'T HURTING YOU BY PARKING HERE."

After being about halfway into my car, I pulled myself back out of the car, took a few steps towards Jerk and said, "Look, is there a reason you couldn't have parked in that spot right there!? (Pointing at empty stall.) You are a thoughtless jerk." The only satisfaction I got out of the whole incident was when I noticed after I got out of the car and took a few steps towards him, his expression changed, his tone changed, and he was trying to get those keys to work as fast as Lane Myer when he was being chased by the paperboy who wanted his $2. I think I scared the Jerk. Which is quite empowering when you are only a 5' 6" guy with a Napoleon Complex.

As I turned back to get into my car, I hear him say, "No, you're the jerk!", as he is shutting the door of his truck. I look back at him, and now that he is safe and secure in his truck with all the windows up and doors shut, he goes on a rant of epic proportions. Most of which I can't repeat because of the fact that this is a family blog.

Now, going back and analyzing the situation, we saw that he never once said he was sorry. Of course, I might have played a very small part in not hearing the apology. But, had it been me, I would have been apologizing all over the place if someone told me I was blocking them in. Then, somehow, after his ridiculous behavior, I turn out to be the jerk (Which by reading my blogs, you have to agree with the guy to a certain degree).

This is just one example of the lack of manners and selfish behavior that goes on in this fine city of Stinkin' Lincoln. It's things like this that continue to add to my disdain for this place. But hey, without these antics it just wouldn't be Stinkin' Lincoln.

There's Not Always Room for Jello

Well, here we are again. I have missed you. Hopefully you have missed me, as well. So, we are going to give this a try again. Try to put these sometimes crazy, sometimes humorous, and always ignoble thoughts in my head out there for everyone to see. I feel vulnerable, naked and exposed. No need to hide your eyes or put the kids to bed, for this is not one of those blogs. We keep it clean around here, relatively speaking. So pour yourself your favorite beverage (I suggest alcohol of some sort to make the reading of this more bearable), sit back in your favorite chair, and let me bore you to sleep with my drivel.

Today's blog takes us back a week or two to the beautiful warm weather we all had the privelege to enjoy here in Nebraska before old man winter destroyed all of our hopes and dreams of it being a very early spring. Here in Stinkin' Lincoln, there appears to be a bit of an epidemic, it may have already made it to your area. This being a college town, we have a great many young ladies who use very poor judgement when dressing. The warmer weather always seems to be some contest to see who can wear the least amount of clothes. Ladies, it was 55 out, not 85. There is no reason to be wearing a sheer spaghetti strapped tank top and what my friend's 16 year old daughter calls "butt-shorts" (I believe in "my day" and perhaps, "your day", they were referred to as "Daisy-Dukes" or "Oooobabies"). Besides, your legs are so white they might actually look better if you DON'T shave your legs. At least the hair would give you some color. Ever heard of a tanning booth or doing whatever that John Boehner does to make himself look the color of an Oompa-Loompa?

This is just one example of the epidemic that is poisoning the female population in Stinkin' Lincoln from ages 16-24. But that is just the tip of the iceberg my dear friends. What I really want to talk to you about is something that could effect women all the way into their 40's, even those trying to be modest. Let me paint the picture for you. On a beautiful Friday afternoon I went to the neighborhood coffee shop to get a cup of java for my wife and I. The local coffee shop is in a "ritzy" area by Stinkin' Lincoln standards. There are several boutiques, flower shops, hair salons, dance studio, guitar studio, and then mixed in is an autobody shop. Nothing says classy like the smell of paint in the air on a warm winter's day. However, by Stinkin' Lincoln standards, it's very highbrow. Then about half a block away is a very small college. I think you can imagine the type of crowd this area draws. You have all these rich women walking around thinking they are pretty hot stuff, and a bunch of college kids loitering and over compensating for their lack of self esteem.

I pull up to the coffee shop and from the time I pulled up to the time I left I saw 7 women, and I use the term loosely, wearing these tight, stretchy, black pants. When I got home, I asked my wife what the deal was with this new fashionable fad. She said they are called "Yoga Pants".

"But," I say, "there isn't a yoga studio there." She replied, "Very few women that wear yoga pants do yoga." Awwwww, so it's the new, hip, cool, trendy thing to do. (It is at this time I must warn you that if you are easily offended, please don't read any further.)

Why do I tell you all of this? Am I just a big, gross, old, pervert checking out middle aged women and college girls in yoga pants? I am shocked and outraged that you would think such a thing! Rather, I would like this blog to serve as a warning for women everywhere that yoga pants are a trap. Here is why I say that: You may go to the local yoga pants store and take them into the fitting room and squeeze into them. You may look in the three-way mirror and look at your butt and legs and think, "I think I can pull this off!" If this is your criteria for whether or not to make that purchase, you are missing one important step. You need to either have someone you trust to tell you the truth, or figure out a way to look in that mirror and watch yourself walk away. You see, when stationary the yoga pants may look just fine, but unless you are a size zero or have dancer's legs, most likely when people watch you walk away they are going to think they are looking at a Jello mold during an earthquake. I know what they say about there always being room for Jello, but in this case, it's not true. Yes, we can see every fat cell locomote on your calves, thighs and buttocks when you adorn yourself with those new, hip, cool, trendy yoga pants.

In light of this, you might want to just put those yoga pants back on the shelf or cross them off your wish list. What's that you say, it's too late, you already own them. In that case, I suggest giving them to that girl you can't stand in your school, or that middle aged know-it-all tramp that works out at your gym. It will just be our little joke.

Inspired

Well, it's been a while. Pull up a chair and listen to me drone on about nothing in particular. I found myself inspired by a friend to post another blog. Flattery is a great way to get people motivated. Oh, and did I mention how great you look? Have you lost weight? Regardless, enjoy!

DOG DAYS OF SUMMER

Well, another spring has come and gone and we are into the "dog days" of summer. In the middle of this past abominable winter, I told myself no matter how hot it got this summer, I would not complain. The question is, does it count as "not complaining" if I would choose to go to the dentist, the doctor, or even have an IRS audit rather than go outside and work in the garage or pull weeds? Is it "not complaining" when I hop in the truck and sit on the black leather seats and bite my lower lip while putting my fist through the roof of the truck due to the seats being 323 degrees? Is it really "not complaining" if someone says, I sure do love this hot weather after last winter, and I have to put on a fake smile and say, "Yeah, I love it! It reminds me of the tropical heat in Mexico. I just can't get enough of it."? I guess the answer is in an old adage, "Grin and bare it."

SUMMER STORMS

As you may have read in a previous post, I enjoy storms of all kinds. Whether it be a summer thunder storm or a winter blizzard, they intrigue me in various ways. By far, the most intriguing of them all is the Supercell thunderstorm. If you have lived in the great plains for any amount of time, in all likelihood you have at least heard of a Supercell thunderstorm. For those of you challenged in the meteorological sense, a Supercell is a small storm(1-6 miles wide) that packs a big punch. It is a storm that is rotating and has a great deal of updraft, or a vortex. To dumb it down even further (not that you are dumb), most tornadoes spawn from Supercells. The picture above is a text book example of a Supercell.

I did get to see a couple rotating storms this year, but I still haven't had the treat (yes, treat) of witnessing a tornado. Now, don't go reading anything into this, I did not storm chase. I am very aware of the fact that I know just enough about tornadoes to get myself killed. But the fact of the matter is, every spring, from May to July, I contemplate the prospect of happening upon a tornado. Of course, in my head the tornado I happen upon is out in the middle of no where, and I am southwest of the tornado as it travels to the northeast. It does nothing to hurt anyone and maybe hits an abandoned barn or silo just to give me a display of it's power. But, with the way things usually go in my life, I would be locked in an all glass building with no basement, directly in the path of the tornado with no where to run, no where to hide. I guess that would probably help rid myself of my storm intrigue...if I were to survive, that is.

IN CONCLUSION

Well, those are just a few thoughts off the top of my head. Maybe next time someone compliments me on my writing skillz (yeah, that's right, I said skillz) I will put fingers to keyboard once again. And yes, this is a shameless ploy to get you to shower me with praise. But don't worry I won't let it go to my head.

Facebook, the Proverbial Can-O-Worms

I am here today to talk to you about one of the dangers of Facebook. I am not going to say it's from the devil or anything like that, that for you to decide. I am no judge. But one of the pitfalls I find in Facebook is that horrible moment when you get a friend request from someone that you have major reservations about granting that friend request. The requesting "friend" comes in many forms. You have the guy/gal from school that you either don't remember or didn't like, the relative that you don't even know, the stalker from work that decided that you and he are BFF's, and of course the person that you just plain don't like, but they are unaware of this fact.

The dilemma with all of these "friends" is what to do once you get that friend request. For some, like the guy/gal from high school that you don't remember, it's easy to click that deny button. But, your third cousin on your dad's side that you met once when you were 14 and he was 8, and haven't seen since, this is a predicament. Let's say you deny this request, what happens when dad or grandma hears you dissed your own family? But then if you accept the request, what if the "cousin" turns out to be a psychopath and befriends one of your friends and then eats them with some fava beans and a nice Chianti? Yes, this is an extreme case, but I don't know this fictitious cousin from Adam. Really, isn't it just as dangerous to "friend" a cousin you don't know as it would be to "friend" a random person you find on Facebook?

Then what about the person you know but don't like that asks to be your "friend"? I have worked hard to keep the peace and not let on that I can't stand this person. On one hand I could just "friend" this person just to continue to keep the peace. But, I really don't want this obnoxious person saying something stupid on my Facebook page. Plus, I don't want him to access to my thoughts. But if I don't accept his request, he will know that I don't think that much of him. I suppose it would be wise to find some sort of middle ground. But what could that be? Oh, I got it, how about I don't accept the "friend" request, BUT, I also don't deny it. Just leave it in limbo. But, what happens when I see this person and they say, "Hey, did you see my "friend" request on Facebook?" Then what!? Maybe this is one of the reasons why I should consider not getting involved with a "Social Networking" site. It is a slippery slope, a can proverbial can-o-worms. But, hey, do what you want, I'm no judge...sinner.

Save the Planet!

As I have mentioned in a previous blog, I am enamored with the ocean. Though I have only been in contact with it a relatively minimal amount, it is something that brings me great joy. The smell, sound, wild life, and scenery both above and below it's surface is something I feel I would never grow tired of. So, you can probably imagine how the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico makes me feel. Seeing fish and sea turtles wash up on shore already, not only saddens me, it angers me. Sadly, this is just the beginning. The Gulf of Mexico is one of the richest fishing waters in the entire world. It is an incredible ecosystem. This means there are more species of aquatic life, both enormous and microscopic, than can be counted.

I don't really consider myself a "tree hugger" in the purest sense. But, I feel one of my greatest attributes and at the same time one of my biggest faults, is my ability to feel. I have been told by many a person that I wear my heart on my sleeve. Because of this, if I see injustice it cuts me to the bone. To me, things like oil rigs in the ocean, animal poaching in Africa, strip mining, deforestation, etc., these are all things that really get to me. One of my biggest pet peeves is shortsightedness, and oil rigs, poaching, strip mining, and deforestation are all things that look at what can be had now without any regard for what our children, grand children, and great grand children will be able to have. This oil spill was preventable, but shortsighted people chose vast amounts of money over protecting the ocean. As a result, one the most incredible ecosystems in the world is in jeopardy. It's been 21 years since Exxon Valdez ran aground and spilled 11 million barrels of oil into the ocean in Alaska. Today, the ecosystem in that area has yet to fully recover. So, at my age of 37 years old, I will officially be a senior citizen by the time the Gulf Coast gets close to being back to what it is today.

The bright side is the fact that the earth is a pretty amazing place. Try as man might, the earth will never be brought to ruin. Man on the other hand, well that's a different story. We may drive ourselves extinct before we get a chance to kill "Mother Nature". At that point, the earth will be just fine.

I am going scuba diving next week, and if anything, this oil spill is going to make me enjoy my visit to the ocean all the more. It's a shame man has to destroy things before we can all appreciate what the earth has to offer. But this coming week, I am going to look a little closer at the coral and the sea turtles and really appreciate what I get the privilege to see. Hopefully, someday soon, those ruining the earth, will be ruined themselves and the next generation will get to enjoy a much more beautiful world.

Grumpy Old Man

Anger management once again pays off. I was about a gnats eyelash away from pushing some grumpy old fat guy off a ladder this weekend. But, I walked away, counted to ten and then pushed him off the ladder. No, just kidding. I actually regained my composure and just laughed at the guy. I think that may have made him more angry. So, you are probably wondering what lead up to all of this. Well, I was working at an extremely crowded construction sight, where we all had the same common goal, which was to finish. What I was working on was finish carpentry. As usual, I was working on base trim. I had a piece of 12 foot base sitting on the floor and I was going over to grab it when the grumpy old man put his ladder over the top of it so it was impossible to pick up without moving said ladder. I said to him, "Oh, actually I need to grab that piece of piece of trim you just put your ladder over."

The grumpy old man looks at the piece of base, and while stepping on to the ladder he says, "I will be done in just a minute."

Now, let it be known that the guy was done with his task in under 3 minutes. But how long would it have taken for the guy to move the ladder and allow me to get my piece of base out from under his ladder? My guess would be around 15 seconds or so. I am no math wizard, but I am pretty sure it would have made more sense for him to move his ladder, but of course I am quite biased in my stance. Didn't he, by his actions, put the project behind another 2 minutes or so? Of course all of this was frustrating, but this wasn't when I wanted to push him off the ladder. So, let's move on to the next stage of my anger pot wanting to boil over.

A few moments later after he was done screwing around on the ladder, he was coming down, and he had put a piece of ceiling tile against the wall where I was going to install the base molding. I picked up the ceiling tile to move it, and as soon as this old geezers foot hit the floor, he ripped the ceiling tile out of my hand while saying the ever so eloquent and well thought out words, "Gimme that!".

I just shook my head and as he moved his ladder, I picked up my piece of base. For the next several minutes I went about my business and did what I was set there to do, put in base. When I was finishing up my last piece, a person from the safety department came in the room and asked the grumpy old cuss if he was using the scaffolding that was blocking the exterior door that came into the room. The old poop said he would be using it again in a minute. The safety guy said, that it was blocking the entrance, so if he wasn't using it, could he please keep it out of the way. It was at this moment that my anger pot almost runneth over. The old coot said, "If they want it, they can go around and come in another door."

I looked up at him and saw that he was smiling, but after seeing his behavior over the past 15 minutes, I knew he wasn't kidding. It was at that moment that I wanted to just accidentally "bump" into his ladder. But instead, I looked at him and said, "You know, you aren't a very nice person." I then gathered up my tools and walked out of the room. Having reached my anger management capacity, I told my boss man that I had to go home and go to bed. I knew that if I had another encounter with that guy, it wasn't going to be pretty, and I would come out on the short end of the stick.

I like to look at this experience as a triumph of sorts. First of all, no grumpy old men were injured in the making of that building. And I kept my cool under some fairly adverse conditions. I may have turned the corner in my quest to rid my self of the curse of the medulla oblongata.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Greetings friends and strangers! Tonight, I am going to embark on a journey of happiness. For those that know me, you are probably thinking, "Who is this and what have you done with Brandon!?" Well sometimes, even when you feel like curling up into a ball in some hole in the woods, you have to count your blessings. That's one good way out of that hole. Anyhow, back to happiness. This weekend was pretty nice. I had the opportunity to spend time with some dear old friends, and to hopefully make some new friends. To have people you can call friends is pretty special. There are many people that go throughout life that either don't have time for friends, or are too concerned with getting ahead in life, therefore walking all over people that might otherwise be friends. I won't even get into the people that are too strange to have friends, this might divert us from the journey. I am fortunate to have people that overlook my bad qualities (and there are many) and accept me for who I am. I am not saying I don't try to change those bad traits, my friends are just patient while I am working those things out. Heck, I have a few friends that has been patient with me as long as I can remember, even if I have been working on not being a blunt jerk for that entire time. (Believe it or not, it's gotten better.)

It was a nice variety of settings that our interactions took place. One night it was with good wine (or in my case, beer) and good food around a fire the next night it was at a giant round table in a restaurant, also with good beer and good food. Another common thread was laughter. To put it simply, laughing is pretty great. It seems that for that period of time when you are laughing with friends, all the troubles that we all battle in the daily rat race take a back seat. I believe this can have a healing affect. I'm no doctor, but if your blood pressure goes down, and even for a short time you can just relax instead of being so blasted tense, that has to be good for you. So, my prescription for life is laughing with friends. Do take with alcohol. Will not cause drowsiness. Take on a full stomach. Please take as directed.

"Send a Janitor on Vacation Foundation"

In an effort to get myself out of Stinkin' Lincoln, I have started down a path never travelled by myself. EBay! Oh sure I've purchased many items on EBay. According to my "Feedback Score", I have purchased 28 different items over the last several years. Usually concert tickets and the occasional janitorial supply. But now I have taken on the selling aspect of EBay. And you know what, it's kind of fun. My wife told me that if I sell all the things I have been tucking away like the pack rat I am, I can use the money towards my trip south of the border.

The first item I sold was my scuba regulator. Though the goal with that was to upgrade to a better scuba regulator, I couldn't believe the "high" that I got when I received the email that informed me that my regulator had sold. Next thing you know I am going through boxes in the attic, boxes in the basement, and boxes in the garage to find things that I may be able to sell. (In case you haven't figured it out, I have what they call an addictive personality.) Over the past week or so I have put approximately 15 items on EBay to try and sell, of which, half have sold already. What really blows me away, is usually when I get into something like this, my lovely wife gets frustrated because she feels, and is probably right, that I am wasting time. But here are two things that drive my wife crazy:

1) Clutter

2) A Tight Budget

So for her, my new found obsession is awesome. Much of the junk, i.e., clutter, that has been building up around here is slowly be sent off to various parts of the country. Then the trip that I am going on in a month or so was going to make the budget a little tight. But now, I am raising my own capital to use as spending money in Mexico. Yep, she is a happy camper. The only problem is I am starting to run out of things to sell. That's where this story takes an unfortunate turn for my bride of nearly 14 years. You see, my wife's sister and brother-in-law are in town. They recently moved out of Stinkin' Lincoln and perhaps went to one of the few places that is worse than here, Stinkin' Bowman, North Dakota. Anyhow, since they are back in town, they are picking up the last of their belonging that are still here. The brother-in-law, who is one of the most generous people I have ever met, sees the fun I am having selling things on EBay and decides to make a few donations to, what I call the "Send a Janitor on a Vacation Foundation". (I wanted to call it the "Send a Janitor to Mexico Foundation", but with all the Hispanics that are in cleaning, I didn't want it to sound like a political statement.) At first he just gave me some tools he had that were pretty old, or as we like to say in the EBay selling biz, "vintage". But then it got a little out of hand. The brother-in-law heads to the grocery store and to just grab a couple things for their trip back to North Dakota tomorrow. After a while, my wife, her sister and myself are all wondering where Joe is. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent, as well as the guilty.) My sister-in-law calls him up and he says, I'm in the middle of something, I will call you back. I say to my sister-in-law, he must be getting you a present or maybe some flowers. But boy was I wrong. He was getting me something instead. On his journey to store, he spotted a yard sale that was a "ONE DAY ONLY EVENT!", so he had to stop. He looks around and quickly spots a couple large boxes of trading cards. He tells the guy he will take them all. The guy says, "I have two more boxes in the house," and Joe says he'll take them. So, imagine my wife's expression when Joe walks in with a 4 boxes of trading cards. Baseball, football, NASCAR, even some Batman and 007.

Needless to say, I appreciate the donation. However, I have to move things fast before my wife's head explodes. The problem is, everybody and their mother has baseball cards on EBay. There was a time when it was a popular and booming business. Not so much anymore. Cards that were worth $15-20 back when I collected in the 80's and early 90's are worth $8. That wasn't the direction we saw that going back then. For once I made a wise decision and sold the cards when they were worth something. So, I think I am going to have to get creative. Maybe sell them by team, or something like that. All I know is the approximately 30,000 cards have got to go somewhere, they just can't stay here.

Spring Has Sprung

As I was pulling up to the neighborhood coffee shop, I noticed there were no parking spots near the popular coffee emporium. I drove about half a block down, parked and hopped out of the truck into the delightful warm sun. As I walked to the coffee house, in my shorts and t-shirt, I was reminded of a few short weeks ago when the same thing happened. Only then it was about 14 degrees, I had my winter coat on, and flannel lined jeans. I thought to myself, "It's funny how you don't mind parking a little ways away when the weather is nice."

A couple days after the trip to the coffee shop, I had some things I needed to do around the house. After running up stairs and downs stairs for a while I started noticing how warm it was getting in the house. I figured the thermostat must have been set too high. But to my surprise the heat wasn't on, yet it was 76 degrees in the house. I needed some things out in my garage, which detached from the house. I stepped out and I couldn't believe hot warm it was. I checked the thermometer and it said 85! I thought to myself, "So that's why it's so hot in the house!". Next thing you know I am greeted by two slobbering, panting, and hot English Mastiffs. I noticed their massive water bowls were all but empty, aside from a thick gelatinous liquid that most definitely was not water. I then empty the Mastiff goo out of the water bowls and refilled them. The dogs greedily lapped up the water in nothing flat. I headed to the garage to get what I needed and as I approach the dogs, they both are still looking quite hot. So, I grabbed a rag to wipe off their dripping faces, and asked them if they wanted to come in. Usually at that point they will either come in if they want to, or stay outside if they don't. When I asked them, they just both plopped down in the sun, and one even rolled over on her back. Even the dogs are happy winter is over.

Today I was driving around a bit, and I noticed a Magnolia tree was starting to blossom. Seeing that made me what to jump up and down, but I was driving so I thought it was better that I didn't. A few blocks down, a tree is starting to get it's leaves. As I continued on I see a Maple tree budding out. Then I get home and notice how green our grass is getting. I looked beside the garage where I planted Vinca Minor last year and the plants had hundreds of little flowers about to bloom.

Oh my goodness! It happened! The winter from a frozen over hell has ended. The scientist said it had to happen but I was starting to doubt them. The worst winter I can ever remember is done, and spring has sprung. (I'm a poet, and didn't knowit.) Yippy!!!

My Love Affair with the Ocean

Many of you that know me, and that are my Facebook friends and so forth, know that I have been raving, perhaps to the edge, if not falling off the edge in to pure crazy, about scuba diving, the ocean, islands, the beach and everything that goes with it. My wife can attest to the fact that I may go a bit overboard with my new found love of scuba diving. But allow me to explain myself.

Ever since I was a little kid, actually it's more accurate to say, as long as I can remember, I have always had a fascination with the ocean, especially with warm sunny beaches and it would be even better if it was on an island. I have no idea why, especially when you take into account that I live smack dab in the middle of the country, and the closest salt water is in the Gulf of Mexico a minimum of 16 hours away by car. (Maybe that's it in a nutshell.) Though I can't explain the fascination, there is no question it has always been there. When I was 7 or 8 years old, I had this dream (and isn't life just a sweet dream at that age) that when I turned 16 I was going to hop into my red convertible 1972 Olds Cutlass 442 and take a road trip to California with another dreamer friend of mine. When reality struck, the only part of that dream that came true was I was driving an Olds Cutlass. Only, it was a white 1976 Gutlass Supreme, a major hunk of junk that my parents bought me for $300. (My dad later said he wanted as much steel around me as possible while I was getting used to driving) However, when I turned 17 I got my chance to go to California and see my beloved beach. A family I have been close to my whole life was going to L.A. and asked if I wanted to join them. Next thing you know, I sold my baseball card collection and paid my way to California and had spending money to boot. (HUGE baseball card collection. I sold it at the perfect time.) We didn't get to spend a ton of time at the beach, but we did spend an afternoon at Huntington Beach. We got in the water and goofed around in the waves. That's when I got my first taste of ocean water. Later we found out that the water was only 65 degrees, but we had a great time. We were from Nebraska, we didn't know any better.

The next time I found myself at the ocean was nearly 10 years later in Bar Harbor, Maine. It was beautiful to look at, but Maine in September is not a good time to jump in the ocean. But, I remember just standing on the beach just staring out into the ocean. It was amazing. But still, not what I was looking for, not exactly.

After a few views of the ocean in Washington state, and San Diego, California, I finally got my chance to do the real thing. An island get away! I flew to Grand Cayman with a couple friends. I remember standing outside the airport waiting for my buddy and his wife to get the rental car. I was thinking, "I don't think I have ever been anywhere this hot and this humid." That's saying a lot when you are from Nebraska. Not many places can compete with our humidity level. But in Cayman, it was so humid it felt like you needed your scuba gear on just to breath. The next day, we headed out to the dive sites. From the moment I got into that water and once I calmed down about going 65 feet under water, it's like I was home. It sounds cliche, but it's true. The ocean, islands and scuba diving was everything I thought it would be and more. Which is amazing when you think about it. How many times has a person said, "Oh! You have GOT to see that new movie, it will blow your mind!", or "Dude! You have GOT to eat at this new restaurant, it's AMAZING!", only to see the movie or eat at the restaurant and be utterly disappointed. But, for me, the ocean was everything I had built up in my mind for 36 years, only better.

So, that is why I am obsessed with the ocean and scuba diving. I don't remember a time I wasn't in love with the idea of the ocean. Maybe it was all the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean that my dad and I listened to together? But regardless of the reason, I love the ocean.

Pit Bulls: Image vs. Reality

Growing up, I was a cat person. My family always had at least one cat, usually two. My parents still are cat people, but now they have 3 cats. But that is a blog for another time. Anyhow, my wife on the other hand, has always been an animal person. She can't even look at a stray cat or dog, or even turtle for that matter, without wanting to bring it home. But, if I had to pigeon hole her into a category, I would say she is a dog person. In fact, it was her family's dog, Pepper, a Dalmatian, that started me on the path to becoming a dog person. As most of you know, we now own two English Mastiffs, Lucy (8) and Howard (3). I went from being a little bit afraid of dogs (after being bit twice, you get a little traumatized), to having virtually no fear of dogs. Owning the breed of dog that is in the Guinness Book of World Records for largest dog will make most other dogs seem a bit underwhelming.

However, there are dogs that I have a very deep respect for, and won't just go running up to them and starting rubbing their belly. The one that is on top of that list is Pitbull. I am sure just the mention of this breed made half of you turn on the light, make sure the doors are locked and the cat is in. Afterall, they are the most vicious and heartless dog on the planet. They are a killing machine. At least that is what the media has gotten all of us to think. I will admit, that for the longest time, I felt that it was just in the nature of the Pitbull to attack even when unprovoked. But, without a doubt in my mind, the Pitbull is one of the most misunderstood animals in existence, right up there with sharks. Yes, some Pitbulls do attack. Yes, some are vicious. But, to say, in a blanket statement, that all Pitbulls are bad and the breed should be exterminated is ridiculous. Why?

Whether a Pitbull will be aggressive, and evil comes down to just a few factors. Really, they are factors that determine whether or not ALL dogs will be aggressive and evil.

1) BREEDING

One of the biggest problems in the dog community is "backyard breeding". You get some addlepated buffoon that thinks they can make a quick buck by letting their two Pits make babies. That's why if you get ANY puppy, you really are better off getting one from a respected breeder. Most respectable breeders do their best to either breed certain characteristics in or out of their puppies. They can do this with physical attributes such as color, size, and health, as well as the dogs temperament, i.e. personality. Almost ALL backyard breeders don't think to do this or even care if it's done. Also, backyard breeders will sometimes be extremely irresponsible about the dogs they breed. With all the inbreeding going on in those backyards, the backyard in which they are being breed should be known as Kentucky. (Sorry to any friends I used to have in Kentucky.) Believe it or not, their is incest in the animal kingdom. When I was 5, my parents got a retarded cat from my aunts farm. For the 14 years he lived, he would be laying on your lap purring away, then next thing you know he was trying to claw out your eyes. That was an example of farm cat inbreeding. The same thing results in the canine world. You breed a brother and sister together that are both angry dogs, what do you think you are going to get? You are going to get Charles Manson in a dogs body only not quite as charming.

2) Socialization

All dogs need to have interaction with both other dogs, and other people than just their owner. If you have a dog that never goes out of the backyard, that dog is not going to do well when it finally does get out of the backyard, it doesn't matter if it's a Pitbull or a Labradoodle (Although, what self respecting gangster owns a Labradoodle?). Now, hopefully I don't get myself in trouble here, but what type of people usually own Pitbulls? Probably the better portion of people that own Pitbulls are people that shouldn't have any kind of dog. They lack the time, money and/or education to know how to raise a well socialized dog. That being said, some of the most well behaved Pits I have seen were owned by people that didn't appear to have a lot materially in life. But, they appeared to have the intelligence to handle socializing their dog. On the other hand, I have seen wealthy people with a Labradoodle that barely had control of their dog. I chalk that up to a lack of time and possibly a lack of intelligence. Many times, when Pitbulls do attack, they seem to go after kids. I know my dogs don't love kids, but mostly because they aren't around them much. They aren't mean to the kids, they usually just run off and hide with their tale tucked deeply between their legs. Now, you get a Pitbull that is never around kids, and that is a recipe for disaster. They see that little "thing" as a threat. So, it's up to the OWNER to socialize their dog so it will play nice with others.

3) Training

Our last factor we will consider is training. In many ways, a lack of training comes down to many of the same reasons a dog lacks socialization. But there are a few things that makes it a category in and of itself. Training is important in all dogs, but especially with dogs like Pitbulls. Pitbulls, by nature, are determined animals. That's why they use them for dog fights. The Pitbull will fight to the death if an owner tells it to do so. In the dogs mind, he is defending his owner. Therefore, Pitbulls need training so they know what they should be doing with all that determination. As we see from my example, that can be used for the bad, like in dog fighting. But, with the proper training a Pitbull can be the best family pet anyone could have.

So what am I trying to say? I am trying to say that the bad wrap the Pitbull gets is because of the morons that own them. For some reason, the same people that feel it's okay to squeeze out 6 different babies from 9 different daddies, think it's cool to own a Pitbull. A good rule of thumb is, if you are totally inept at raising children, you probably should stay away from a strong willed dog like a Pitbull.

I have always felt there are two things people should have to pass a test for before they can do it. Those two things are, 1) Have children and 2) Own a dog. Maybe if this was done Pitbulls wouldn't have to be vilified by the media, and made to wear a muzzle 24/7. Most of those dogs are probably more deserving of respect than some of their owners. Maybe we should put the muzzles on the owners since they are ones that are really at fault for most of the Pitbull's woes.