On Disney and the Movies that Never End, Tangled Edition

I have very mixed feelings about this Walt Disney fellow. Not only did the man create, but also, because of his success/vision/financing(?), allow to be created, some of the greatest family movies and cartoons of all time. Disney, and now Pixar, are mighty companies, designed to delight children of all ages (and delight their shareholders as well). Disney owns theme parks, cruises, TV networks, Broadway shows, and so much more. They have even acquired two entities that I love: Marvel and Star Wars. Despite what I think of the company's marketing/merchandising machine and my concerns over what will happen to the my beloved Star Wars franchise, the most important thing for me right now is that my three-year-old daughter has been sucked into that machine.

It started when my wife and I decided to put on Cinderella for my youngest. My daughter has never been a huge TV watcher, primarily because we don't watch a ton of television. When she did watch TV, a lot of it was music based (i.e. Barney) and never any full-length movies. We put Cinderella on thinking she would just watch for 10 minutes, if that, and ask for something else or move on to some other activity. That girl sat through the entire film, eyes glued to the TV. She laughed, she asked pertinent questions and said "Oh no!" at the appropriate moments. My wife and I were stunned. And then came the words I dreaded to hear... words that brought back repressed memories from when my three oldest children were younger.. my daughter looked me in the eye and said "Can I watch that again?" Aaaaargh! It was starting!

"Can I watch it again?" How can children watch the same movie (or TV show) over and over again? I mean, what pleasure can they possibly get from it? Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. My daughter watches movies over and over again and somehow seems surprised that everything turns out all right in the end. She is only three, but still... she's insane, right?

Just as an aside, she did watch TV shows over and over but usually there were enough episodes in a season to keep it at least a little fresh. Also, as I mentioned above, when a show has a lot of music in it, the TV almost becomes more like a radio.

Unfortunately I find myself watching these same movies over and over again and then my insanity kicks in. No, I don't expect the outcomes to change but I start picking apart the movies, analyzing them and wondering things that are best left un-wondered. Some of you may be understanding exactly what I am saying, others may be scratching their heads wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, for the latter, let me show you what I am talking about.

My daughter's current obsession is Tangled (I know it should be Frozen, but hey, kudos to her for not jumping on the band wagon.) For the last month or so she has wanted to watch it in the mornings before going to day care and also when she gets home from daycare. She knows it so well she is quoting scenes, and singing along to most of the songs. I have watched the film over and over as well and I am left with all sorts of questions.

First off, I don't believe that anyone could be stuck in a tower for 18 years and never go outside. Especially when you have a big window overlooking your secret valley. Rapunzel let down her hair so her "mother" could come and go as she pleased yet she never, before her 18th birthday, lowered herself down to step on the ground. I don't care what kind of psychological abuse one uses on their hostage; it seems highly unlikely that someone would not, at some point even step a foot on the ground below the tower. This would slowly turn into a steady exploration of the valley, and then curiosity would take them outside the valley. Nope, not Rapunzel. She just stared out the window and pined.... I say bullshit!

Next, the movie tries to portray Mother Gothel as this evil woman who stole a baby for her own selfish designs (immortality). Yes, she did steal the child from its birth parents, and yes the primary motivation for the act was to keep her fountain of youth, but Rapunzel grew into a fairly intelligent, well-mannered and lovely woman. I feel some of her behavior (and art talent) could be attributed to birth, but a lot of her development must have been taught/learned. The only person to interact with Rapunzel was Mother Gothel. Therefore, there must have been a level of love that Gothel had for Rapunzel. She may have even reached the point where she thought of Rapunzel as her own daughter.

I think it is wrong to assume that there was nothing but selfishness and evilness behind the woman's actions (at least before the events of the movie). There must have been love of a sort between them. "Stockholm Syndrome", I hear you thinking; sure, maybe that would explain Rapunzel's side of it. After all, she did reach out a hand to try and catch her fake mother as she tumbled out of the window to her death. However, this doesn't explain why Rapunzel was not just locked in a room and ignored, except for "magical youth giving" time. Like I said, Mother Gothel must have developed some sort of love for Rapunzel.

Next, there is a series of little things that I noticed and feel the need to mention.

I know Rapunzel never wore shoes, so her feet must have toughened up a bit, but she was walking on stone floors and rugs in the tower. Running outside in a world full of rocks, twigs and other sharp foot-piercing stuff seems a bit far fetched. Yet Rapunzel puts on a huge dance number in the valley.

At one point during the movie, Flynn Rider and Maximus (the palace horse, who happens to be chasing Rider, who made off with the crown of a certain lost princess) fall from a tree into a very deep gorge. The fall is hundreds of feet yet they just land with an ooof! In real life, there would have been two shattered corpses on the valley floor.

In the bar scene, where Flynn and Rapunzel are hiding from a group of guards who are hot on their trail, Maximus enters the search and is practically a bloodhound. The horse sniffs out an entrance to a secret tunnel out of the bar in under 5 minutes. Yet in an earlier scene, Maximus is no more than two feet away from Flynn, who is blocked by a thin wall of vines, but doesn't detect the rogue. This almost annoys me as much as the Ring Wraith in Fellowship of the Ring. The foul beast is two feet from Frodo and can't find, sense or smell the ring. Hey Sauron, maybe these aren't the best candidates for a Ring recovery team! But, I digress...

Later in the film, when a group of the song and dance ruffians arrange a Flynn Rider rescue operation, the piano playing thug places Flynn on the end of a cart. Another one jumps off a second story landing (2 stories! Broken legs anyone?) onto the cart catapulting Flynn a tremendously large distance to land exactly on the back of Maximus. I am not even going to guess the distance both vertically or horizontally but, it is absolutely ridiculous. A Chinese circus act would have to train years to get that to work (including the death or dismemberment of countless acrobats) and these guys pull it off first try. Not friggin' likely.

After watching Tangled as many times as I have, I am also convinced that most of the royal guards are clones. The majority look exactly alike. And I also might add, they shoot as well as Storm/Clone Troopers from the Star Wars movies as well.

Let's jump right to the end, which I have to say was very reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast (hero gets stabbed in the back, villain dies by extreme gravity, and hero brought back from the brink with a tear from their beloved). Flynn, on climbing the tower to save Rapunzel, gets a knife to the back from Mother Gothel. Rapunzel agrees to stay with her fake mother (knowing that she is the lost princess) with no resistance, if Gothel lets her heal Flynn with her magic hair. In an act of supreme sacrifice, Flynn cuts Rapunzel's hair, freeing her from the control of her wicked abductor. All I have to say to this is... how stupid is Flynn Rider? The sacrifice is nice and all, but he could have cut Rapunzel's hair after she healed him. Nope, not Flynn. Maybe deep down inside he realizes he doesn't want to settle down and get married and figures this is the best way out. Probably not, but you never know!

Was I also the only one that thought that if Flynn wants to live forever, all he has to do is be a jerk to her (or marry her, that seems to make a lot of women cry)? Apparently her tears still have the magic healing power, since it was Rapunzel's tear falling on Flynn that healed him. If Flynn could bottle up those tears and force her to sing, he could stay young forever. And he wouldn't even have to use force--she obviously is susceptible to emotional control.... okay, that last bit is getting a bit dark, but it just helps bring home my point.

I have watched this film too many times. If the over-analyzing of the film wasn't enough, the fact that I find the songs popping into my head randomly throughout the week proves it. The sad thing is, is that this is just the beginning. Today it is Tangled, tomorrow it will be something new. A new movie will be placed on repeat. Then my daughter will not just want to watch the movie but she will want the bed sheets and the curtains and the cups and the play set and the dolls and the trading cards and on and on and on. I guess that is just one of the hardships we as parents have to bear, and to be honest, if this is one of the hardest, with all the shitty stuff that can happen to a child in the world today, I say "Let it go, Let it go, Can't hold it back anymore..." (Okay, that was from Frozen, but dammit, that is the movie she should be fixating on!)

On all these Damn Facebook Things

I have been Facebooking for several years now and often have discussions with non-Facebookers on the value of the service. People who don't Facebook bring up numerous arguments for why they do not participate.

Many people feel it is a security risk to put all your information out there for anyone to read. Nay nay I say (That was a little shout out to John Pinette---may he rest in peace). You have control over what you put on Facebook, just like anywhere else on the internet. So if you feel the need to share stuff that you don't want anyone else to see it, maybe you shouldn't put it on Facebook. Just saying...

Some people also tell me that they choose not to get on Facebook because they don't want to get sucked into its world. This is something I can understand. When I first started on Facebook I was obsessively playing games (in particular Mafia Wars) and constantly changing my status with riveting updates such as what I was eating, whether I was having a particularly challenging bowel movement and other even more interesting things. Apparently these constant status updates are what Twitter is for. I shouldn't make fun of Twitter, though. It would be nice to be interesting enough to have people actually care about every trivial thing that I was doing every minute of the day. Eventually, I got past this phase of hyper-Facebooking and just settled into using it to let family and friends know what is going on in my life (and to plug the Blog, of course). By the way, you can all stop sending me game requests. I'm done with them.

People have told me that Facebook is just stupid and pointless and I can't always disagree with them. There are things I really love about Facebook and things I absolutely abhor. It is a wonderful way to reach out and stay in contact with family and friends. When something terrible happens, it is so much easier to blast a post to the whole family as opposed to making individual phone calls. (Okay, there are always people you call. I would never post on Facebook about the passing of a loved one before calling the immediate family first. How crappy would that be? Status: "Mom Died today. And I had a burrito for lunch." <Picture of Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan with Burritos on their heads>)

Facebook is a great way to organize events and activities with your friends. My 25th High School reunion is in the works and I am trying to help, so I created a page for it on FB and only got about 17 people to join. Even though that was 17 people of about 40-ish (not the biggest school), I found myself getting annoyed. It would be son much more simple if the whole class were on Facebook. We could have everything organized in a couple of days. I actually had a friend (well, we're still friends so forget the past tense) who did not want to join so I created a fake Gmail account and then made a fake Facebook account for him, just so that I could have an easier communication system with my gaming group. He actually uses it now and it sure does make things easier for me.

But with the good comes the bad, unfortunately. Facebook has changed a lot since I started. Advertisements are taking more and more space. Ads are appearing in our feeds. Constant changes to the layout are annoying. Posts to other people's walls are showing up in my feed and sometimes it is something I don't think the writer is intending for other people to read (awkward!) Worst of all is what other people post.

I'm not saying everything that people post is bad. I have gotten a good laugh out of some things and have been educated on various subjects through articles my friends have shared. I enjoy seeing people on vacation (though I am often jealous, especially when the people are somewhere warm and sunny while I suffer through another cold winter's day in upstate New York), and I like seeing family photos. It is nice to keep track (not in a creepy, stalker way) of how everyone and their families are doing. It is heartbreaking to see people dealing with adversity, but it makes me feel closer to them, even though we may hardly ever talk or see each other (especially when so many of my friends are spread across the globe.) This all being said, there are plenty of things that people post that drive me crazy!

I hate when people share political stuff. Well, I should say, I hate when people post political stuff that I disagree with. Someday I will share all my political views, but until then, much like Donny and Marie were a little bit country and a little bit Rock and Roll, I am conservative on some things, and liberal on others. Whether you are a hard-core conservative or a hard-core liberal, I don't want see 20 posts a day, sharing articles that support your viewpoint. I will block your feed and I have blocked feeds from people because of it.

I also hate the "Like, Comment, or Share if you love/hate  <Fill in the Blank>" posts.  I don't care what the Blank is, whether it is Jesus, or your daughter/son, or Herpes, or GMO's, or Nickelback--I am not going to do it. This does not mean that I don't love/hate whatever the Blank is; it just not how I choose to show my support/aversion to something/someone. Along the same vein, I hate the passive aggressive "most of you probably won't share this" posts. Your right: I'm not going to re-post it. Maybe I should call it the psychic post.

Some people don't like Vague Booking, the time honored tradition of putting up a post, almost demanding someone to comment "is everything all right?" I personally have no problem with the practice. I don't usually do it, but can't swear that I have never done it. I think we all get to the point where we just want to blast out some frustration without telling everyone the whole story behind it. Besides, many of us have people on Facebook that are close friends and family, and some people whom we barely know. Usually the post is not that vague to the people in your inner circle. (And sometimes, the post is about one of the people in your "friends" list.)

I'm sure there are a lot of trends/fads that have risen and fallen during the time I've been Facebooking, There was/is Grumpy Cat, just to give an example, but the one that is currently driving me crazy is the stupid quizzes. The "What kind of <Fill in the Blank> are you?" ones. Oh my goodness. Enough! I don't care which member of the Partridge family you are or what toe you are. Stop! Stop! Stop! There is no way answering 6 simple questions can do much of anything, let alone give you great insight about yourself. I wish I could find it, but, I saw a post where someone famous took a quiz that they were in and didn't get themselves. It's stupid and ridiculous, so enough! And in case you were wondering...
I am....
Joey Gladstone (from Full House)
Artemis (from Always Sunny)
Andrea Zuckerman (BH 90210)
I'm destined to win the Amazing Race
Stu Pickles (from the Rugrats)
Dan Humphrey (from Gossip Girl)
Sara (from Orphan Black)
Ross (from Friends)
Apple Jack (from My Little Pony)
Rose Tyler (from Doctor Who)
The Office is the TV Workplace that is right for me
House Baelish (from Game of Thrones)
Eric (from True Blood)
Star's Hollow is the TV town I should live in
Yoda (from which 80's alien are you)
Maury Ballstein (from Zoolander)
The Bride (which bad ass Tarantino character)
John McClane (which 80's action hero)
Miracle Max (Princess Bride)
I am Divergent (Which faction are you)
The Beast is the Disney Prince that is my True Love
Kermit (which Muppet)
Ichabod Crane (which Johnny Depp character)
Iron Man (which Avenger)
Josh (which Clueless character)
Iago (which Disney Sidekick)
Mystique (which X-men character)
Gatsby Leo (which Leo DiCaprio character)
Ursula (which Disney villain)
Sulu (which Star Trek character)
Geordi La Forge (which Next Generation character)
Rex (which Toy Story character)
Luke Skywalker (which Star Wars Character)
Tiana (which Disney Princess)
Ron Weasley (which Harry Potter character)
Brick Tamland (which Anchorman newscaster)
A Hobbit (which magical Tolkein creature)
Haymitch (which Hunger Games character)
Princess Ella (which Movie Princess)
Tweedledum and Tweedledee (which Alice in Wonderland character)
Damian (which Mean Girl character)
Valley Girl Cage (which Nicolas Cage character)
Bertram Weeks (which Sandlot character)
Bane (which Batman Villain)
The Mandarin (which Marvel Movie Villain)
The 80's Fantasy World I should live in is Florin (Princess Bride)
Chunk (which Goonies Character)
Frodo (which Lord of the Rings character)
Alfalfa (which little rascal)
Chas Tenenbaum (which Royal blah blah)
Nala (Lion King character)
The Scarecrow (which Wizard of Oz character)
Ferris Bueller is my 80's Movie Boyfriend
Velociraptor (which Jurassic Park dino)
Anna (which Frozen character)
Super Speed is the Super Power that is right for me
28 Days Later is the Movie Plague that killed me
Anna (which Downton Abbey character)
Fall/Autumn (what season)
I will live to 106 years old
Pig (what farm animal)
Enlightened (what type of person)
Octopus (what ocean animal)
True Neutral (what alignment)
Impulsive (what one word describes you)
Serious/Creative (What personality)
Flirty (Ideal Clothing style)
American Apparel (what corporation)
Oldies (what music style)
Boxing (my fighting style)
Oyster Mushroom (what mushroom)
Orange (my aura color)
Hazelnut (what nut)
Seafood (what food)
Paul McCartney (which Beatle)   75
Smell of a Lilac Flower (what smell of spring)
Snake (what pet)
Barbados (what Caribbean Island)
Hamburger (what type of burger)
Couch (what furniture)
Thumb (which finger)
Jet Plane (what vehicle)
Star (what shape)
A Saint (what were you in a past life)
Storm Cloud (what cloud)
A Rubber Duck (what toy are you)
Flexible (what is your brain good at)
Low Key Fun (what kind of fun)
Judd Apatow (which director)
Ice Wine (what wine)
Passionate Kisser (what type of kisser)
George W. Bush (what president)
Black Sabbath (what classic rock band)
Loyal Best Friend (what type of best friend)
Thunder (are you thunder or lightning)
Pickup Truck (what type of car)
Daernerys Targaryen (what Game of Thrones character)
Chocolate Cupcake (what flavor of cupcake)
The Ghostly Hitchhiker (which Urban Legend)
Shao Yang Body (what is your Chinese Body Type)
Comedy (what movie genre)
Pablo Picaso (which artist should paint your portrait)

Ps. Bitstrip... not a fan.

On Bicycling

Not my actual bike. Mine did not have a speedometer.

Today's somewhat embarrassing story is brought to you by 15-year-old me.

The other day my beautiful wife (sucking up to my editor never hurts!) and I got my daughter to bed around 8 pm (her normal bedtime) and were just kicking back, ready to chill for the rest of the night. Something was bothering me, though. I knew I was forgetting something, but I didn't know what it was. I needed to go out for some reason after my wife got off of work but couldn't remember why. Then it hit me. Earlier that day I had dropped my car off at the garage to get its annual inspection. I had returned when it was finished, paid and got my keys. This was all done while my wife was working and while using her car, so I couldn't drive both cars home by myself (well I could have, but it would have been complicated) and I figured I'd just have her drive me over later in the day. Unfortunately, I forgot, later in the day came and went, and I was not going to wake up my daughter to have my wife drop me off at the garage.

The solution to this dilemma was very simple, as my wife would suggest. She works out of our home, and our daycare is only a block from our house, so she really didn't need her car for anything. "Just take my car tomorrow and we'll pick up your car after we are both done with work," she said. Simple! Uncomplicated! But in the back of my mind, a plan of my own started to form.

I have been cursed with an overwhelming need to not inconvenience people. I am the type of person that, if someone is blocking the aisle in a grocery store, will turn around and go up a different aisle to get behind them, instead of just saying "excuse me". The thought of leaving my wife without a car was unacceptable. Different plans started bouncing around my head, but I quickly narrowed it down to two. The first was to get up really early and walk to the car. The place where the car was sitting was only about 3 miles away, so it wouldn't take me that long. I've walked further, and in worse conditions (i.e. winter) to get to work in the past. But I really didn't want to walk, especially when there was another option, the second plan.

My three older kids each have bicycles. I picked up two 10 speeds at a lawn sale last year for my oldest two, sprayed them down with WD-40 and my son and daughter have been happily riding them ever since. Besides the little test ride which totaled maybe 300 feet, I hadn't ridden either of the bikes. In fact, the last time I rode a bike of any sort for any distance had to be before I got my license when I was 17 years old. This would put it at about 25 years since I really road a bicycle, so of course, this was the plan that I decided to execute. I decided that I would get up at 4 am, ride my son's bike to the car, stuff the bike into the car and then drive to work. The plan was brilliant! What could possibly go wrong? 

At this point I should disclose the fact that I did not mention anything about my intentions to my wife. If I had told her my ingenious plan, I'm sure she would have resorted to using underhanded tactics like logic and common sense to point out that my plan was absolutely ridiculous. She would have insisted that I just take her car and not to put myself through all the added stress. She would have been right, but I'd show her the brilliance of my plan!

After a not-so-great night of sleep, I jumped out of bed a little before 4 am, all ready to get my Lance Armstrong on (minus the doping). I grabbed my stuff and put it all in a little backpack, instead of using the classy Walmart bag that I usually carry my things around in, and headed out to the garage. I grabbed the bike, tested the brakes and the air pressure and walked it out to the road. I double checked a couple of times to make sure I had my car keys, which I did (forgetting my keys on top of everything else would have made this story epic). I said a prayer to the patron saint of bicycles (Pee Wee Herman?) and set out on my big adventure.

The weather was pleasant, there was no rain and the temperature was comfortable. I started peddling, made a couple of adjustments to the gears and continued peddling. I'd like to say I got a mile or two before the burn in my legs kicked in, but the truth is I traveled about 8 houses before the muscles in my leg said, "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" But, since I don't talk to my legs, I just ignored them. When I set my mind to something, especially something stupid like this bike ride, I am committed (or should be). 

I peddled, and I peddled, muscles that have been dormant for 25 years protesting with every turn. When people try to convince others that they will not forget how to do something they haven't done in a long time they use the phrase "It's like riding a bicycle. You never forget." Oh, I forgot all right. I forgot that bicycling requires someone to be in at least a little bit of shape. I forgot that muscles that go unused for a long period of time don't just start working without any protest. I forgot that when you exert yourself, you sweat (and boy, did I sweat!). 

I peddled, and peddled, almost praying that I would arrive at this little hill about half way to my destination. It became my goal. I'd hit that and I could just coast for a while... weeeeeee! Sweet relief from the peddling! Then, I got to the hill, and my brain said "Please try to remember, you paid $10 dollars for this bike. You shouldn't just open it up." I did listen to my brain in this case; it has kept me alive for many years and usually has much better advice than my legs -- usually (this whole bike ride being an example of when I shouldn't listen to my brain). I rode the brakes down the hill, so I didn't get quite as long of a respite as I was hoping, but it was a glorious 3 seconds of not-peddling.

The only problem with hills is the fact that if you go down a hill, you usually have to go up one. I peddled and peddled some more and I knew with a growing joy that my destination was almost at hand. Unfortunately, I also remembered that there were a couple of small hills ahead. As I approached the first one, I realized that it wasn't really a hill. I've seen handicapped entry ramps steeper than this "hill". I approached it, started thinking about building up some speed to "tackle" it but then just stopped the bike and got off. I walked it up. Pathetic, I know! I got to the "summit" and thought about just walking the rest of the way (or setting up a base camp, and trying to get up "K-2"--the second hill--the next day). I also decided that if I just walked the rest of the way to my car I was just going to toss my son's bike in the tall grass on the side of the road and pick it up on the way home. Digging deep into my resolve, I threw away the thoughts of abandoning the bike and pushed (literally) on. 

I rode the bike about 30 feet until the second hill started. This one was a lot steeper than the first, but in the book of the world's steepest inclines, it would have not even been a footnote. I pushed the bike to the top, and saddled up again. I traveled across the road and through the Super Kmart parking lot, and there was the spot I parked the car... and it was there. (You thought I was going to say it was gone or something, didn't you?) I opened the hatchback, pushed the back seat down and stuffed the bike in. I fired up the car and headed down the street. My legs felt like jelly and the fact that it is a manual transmission meant working the clutch was fun, fun, fun. I took my sweaty shirt off and dangled it out the window, to try to dry it out some. I of course did not even think about bringing a change of clothes, but then again, with such a leisurely bicycle ride to my car, why would I even think I would need one?

I got to work. My shirt was pretty dry, and went into the bathroom and ran my head under the water. Of course, this was annoying due to the fact that the faucet is run off of a motion sensor so there was not a steady stream of water. I had made it to work by 4:53 am, so despite all the aches and pain, I was quite pleased with myself. My legs eventually stopped throbbing at some point during the day and I have to say, if this situation ever comes up again, I will just listen to my wife! 15-year-old me can take his banana-seat-riding, curly-handle-bar-using self and his bike (which was named Excalibur, I kid you not) and get lost! And Freddy Mercury, shut up! You may want to ride your bicycle, but I don't. 

Those last few sentiments were brought to you by my legs.     

  

On Terror, Terrorism and Why I Stopped Wearing Underpants

I wanted to write something about what happened at this year's Boston Marathon. Since I usually avoid writing about current events or anything too serious, I figured I would balance the seriousness of the subject matter with an explanation of why I gave up wearing underwear all those years ago.

I was not watching the Boston Marathon, as I am 100% opposed to running, so I did not see things happen live. (I have said it before, and I'll say it again: I only run if someone is chasing me, and I am happy with that.) My wife had come downstairs (she works upstairs in our home) and told me that something had happened at the Marathon and it might have been a terrorist attack. Bombs went off near the finish line and two people had been killed.

I waited a bit before I switched the TV over to see what was happening. Gabby and I were in the middle of a Barney view-fest and God knows, I would hate to interrupt the 138th viewing of Barney's Animal Alphabet Matching Game. Besides, did I really want Gabby (who is 2) to see all the stuff that was sure to be unfolding on the television? Sadly, I have to confess, Gabby was more of an excuse than anything else. It was really me who didn't want to see what was happening. There were two reasons I didn't want to watch: first was the strong feelings that were already starting to hit me because of this potentially being an act of terrorism, and the second reason was that I knew I would just get mad at the network TV coverage.

When I eventually switched over to see what had happened, it brought me right back to September 11th, 2001. I can remember very clearly (as I am sure most people who experienced it can) the day that the Twin Towers came down. I was not working that day, for whatever reason, and came out of the bedroom and turned the TV on. I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing. On the screen were the Twin Towers, smoke pouring out of one. Then suddenly the cameras started tracking a plane and it flew right into the second tower. Once I realized what was happening, I felt this tremendous surge of emotion.

I don't know if I cried or not, but the pain in my chest... well, pain is not the right word. I don't even know if I even know what the right words are. The closest that I can come to describing it is to take how I feel when I get really angry/frustrated (which usually results in tears) and add the sorrow I felt when I got the news that my father had passed away (which definitely left me crying) and smush the two feelings together. As I watched the coverage of the towers throughout the day, these feelings would ebb and flow inside me. When I saw what was done in Boston, those feelings came right back to the surface.

Maybe it is because I am the farthest thing from being an extremist in any way, but I cannot fathom what could bring a person to the point where they could murder innocent people to express their ideology, or disenfranchisement with something. I can't understand it and I never will. I know that the USA is not the wonderful, benevolent and innocent country that so many people who live here seem to think it is. Over the years our country has done plenty of questionable, if not down right "evil" things, both overtly and covertly. We, however, are not the only country guilty of  this. There are few countries out there that have a spotless history, and many are guilty of a lot worse things than we have ever dreamed of (I'm looking at you Josef and Adolph.) To think that it is justifiable to perform acts of terror is inexcusable.

And speaking of inexcusable, we need to do something, as a people, about the media in this country. It is getting out of control. I am just about to the point where I want the government to control the media. I pine to have the freedom of speech taken away from this country, because some people just won't shut the F__k up! 24 hour news channels are ruining this country. Maybe that is a bit extreme, but seriously, has any good come from this phenomenon? Every tragedy that befalls our country is blasted with non-stop coverage: interviews with neighbors, cousins, digging up any little bit of info, trying to beat out the other channels. The networks want to evoke emotional reactions in their viewers and pull out everything they can to manipulate them. I'm not even going to get into the fact that news channels seem to be more and more biased these days and appear to take advantage of events like this to promote what ever political viewpoint that they are championing. I think they all need to go away.

The best thing I saw, that seemed to sum up everything I am feeling toward the media, is a little cartoon with a guy sitting in a chair watching the news. The news reporter says "What can we do to lessen the grip of fear from terrorism?" and the guy turns off the TV. Brilliant.

If network TV isn't bad enough, then let's talk about social media... I'm talking about you, Facebook. Boy, my feelings on what showed up on there during this whole Boston Marathon business run the entire range from pride to utter disgust. Memes are often funny, but sometimes loathsome. I saw outpourings of support and kindness, I saw people taking advantage of the situation by posting erroneous or outright false images and I saw the usual political battles being waged again and again, shamefully using this tragedy to make their points.

Yes, they were Muslims, despite the fact that many thought that they were domestic terrorists. What is the big deal? I thought they were domestic terrorists as well, and I didn't watch any of the coverage, so was not influenced by any media source. I've seen several memes pointing out that they were both Muslims. Does this make it worse? I saw one that said they received welfare and financial aid. Again, does it matter? These people people were willing to plant bombs and kill innocent people -- is this the time to point out that we have a system that is easy to take advantage of? I am getting to the point where I am about to take some computer programming classes so that I can learn to write a program that will filter out and delete any meme that is not funny... or has Grumpy cat on it... I'm getting tired of Grumpy Cat.

In conclusion, my heart goes out to all those who were affected by this horrible attack. I, like most of us, were glad to see that they got the two responsible. I don't even care that the one was killed. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I am glad they caught one alive, though. I think it will help answer questions that may have been left if he wasn't (like, if there were more people involved). With the capture of the assailants, let us hope we can put this tragic event behind us, and allow those who were affected directly to recover.

Now that I have had my say, as promised, here is a brief (pardon the pun) explanation of why I don't wear underwear anymore: I am not sure if I have mentioned it before (this would be a great opportunity to read through all my blog posts and check) but at some point late in my high school career I decided that underwear was not for me. How I came to this decision, I cannot remember. I always have said jokingly that I thought this would help my chances of having crazy porn sex (since the "actors" in the adult film industry never seemed to wear underwear). I did not really believe this, as many years of "going commando" did not seem to help me have any sex, forget crazy porn sex.

I do remember ending up with several pairs of jockey shorts one year and wearing them quite happily, until we had gym class. The underwear actually hung down past the bottom of my shorts. I was so self conscious that I found my self constantly adjusting them as we were engaged in whatever the sport du jour was. Unfortunately it did not escape the eyes of the gym teacher who liked to "pick" on kids (not to an excessive level) and he started teasing me about my wardrobe malfunction. I refused to wear my jockey shorts again after that.

I also remember preferring to let the old twig and berries bounce free instead of wearing a jock strap when I played sports. I found jock straps uncomfortable and knew there would be no thong wearing in my future. Not that the jock strap went up my crack or anything, but I didn't like the feel of the straps on my butt.

The exact reason for my non-underwear decision will probably always be a mystery. But then again, I don't understand why I do a lot of the things that I do. What I do know, is that "going commando" has saved me hundreds of dollars over the years, from buying new pairs, to all of the laundry related expenses I have incurred. Despite a few occasions where I was wearing short shorts (not male Daisy Dukes, or LT. Jim Dangle from Reno 911 short shorts, just regular short shorts) and I had an escapee, free balling has served me well. Though I must confess, I do have a few pairs of underwear in my drawer, primarily for doctor visits. I feel uncomfortable when the doctor says to strip down to my underwear and they come in and I am fully nude.

I don't think that I will ever go back to wearing underwear. When I do, it feels weird and uncomfortable. It gets so hot and sweaty down there -- how do you people stand it? And if anyone feels like performing an act of terrorism, just pull my shorts down in a public place. That image will terrorize people for years to come.

On Kid-Wrangling and Pooping in the Woods

I tried to write my last post about something topical, and it did not go over very well, so I'm going back to telling embarrassing stories about myself. This one happened back in the dark days, when I was married to my ex-wife. The kids were very little and we were all out lawn-saling in Argyle. I believe it was the town-wide lawn sale because I remember that we had all been out in the car for a while.

Being veteran lawn-salers, we had established a basic plan for dealing with our kids while out. When we got to a lawn sale, one of the adults would get out and "scout" ahead; the other would stay in the car with the kids. If the scout saw something the other person would be interested in, then they would signal, and the car-bound adult would get the kids out of the car and bring them to the sale.

I like browsing, but it only takes me about 2 minutes to size up your average lawn sale, and figure out if there is anything I have interest in. It would have made more sense for me to be the scout, but 99% of the time it was my ex-wife. She would spend what seemed to be an eternity looking around, and I would sit in the car with the children. The kids would steadily get less happy about being strapped into their car seats, as one would expect. When the kids were very young, lawn saling was a lot easier, because they would usually just snooze in the car. While they slept, I had time to draw, write or read. As the kids got older, however, they became interested in the items they saw at the lawn sale and began begging to get out of the car. I obliged them more often than not.

My role at that point became, not a fellow lawn sale customer, as one would expect, but a kid-wrangler. My job was basically to manage the children and make sure that they did not destroy things at the lawn sale we were visiting. Kid-wrangling is not a fun job, especially when you have kids with ADHD. Let me tell you, everyone always knew the names of my kids, because I was constantly "yelling" at them to put stuff down, not to touch fragile items and to watch out for other lawn-salers, etc.

Kid-wrangling was not just my role at lawn sales -- it was one of my major roles in my marriage. Whenever we went out in public, it was what I did. I kid-wrangled at parties, grocery stores and anywhere there was a potential for unattended kids to cause major property damage. I should hire myself out, since I am pretty good at it. I remember going to a lot of parties at my ex-wife's family's homes, and all I did was chase the kids around. I barely seemed to get a chance to just sit, relax and visit. Anytime I tried to chill, I would eventually hear my ex-wife say something about how the kids were running amok, which was my cue to get up and deal with it. There were many times I just took the kids outside and sat alone with my plate of food and let the kids run crazy. I wasn't being anti-social; it was just the easiest way to wrangle the kids without having to hear my ex complain, after the party, about how she didn't get to talk to her family because she had to chase the kids all day (which is just one of a thousand reasons why we split up.)

Okay, lets get back to the story. One this particular day, we stopped at a promising lawn sale on the outskirts of town and my ex-wife hopped out and started looking around. I figured she would be a while because this sale had a lot of clothes for sale, and so I was just settling in for a long wait. The kids were comfortably chilling in their car seats, and all was fine.

Well, not quite everything.

I had been slowly feeling the build up of a pretty nasty bowel movement. I had mentioned to my ex-wife that we should probably stop somewhere soon, and we had decided we would find a place I could take care of business after the lawn sale we had just stopped at. Apparently, we forgot to consult my excretory system about our plan, because after sitting there for about 5 minutes I realized, after some pretty violent cramps, that the poop was coming very, very soon. Whether I was ready for it, or not.

It turned into one of those rare moments when you start having very dark debates with yourself. We were basically in the middle of nowhere -- well, nowhere with an easy access public toilet, anyway. We were also pretty far away from our home (at least 30 minutes). Even if there was a public toilet nearby, I would probably have soiled myself long before I unbuckled the kids and got them into the store or restaurant. Besides, trying to handle multiple children while I went to the bathroom was something that would have proved awkward as well. I began thinking about whether I should just let it go in my pants or not. It seemed like the easiest/most likely solution. I hadn't intentionally pooped my pants since I was in diapers and was not relishing the idea at all.

Just to add more complications, the car was some distance from the lawn sale itself so I would have had to yell to get my ex-wife's attention. I did not feel like calling across the yard, "Hey, I have got to take a massive dump, right now! Get in the car before I fill my pants!" The lawn's owner and the other two or three patrons may not have appreciated that bit of TMI. So it was time to get creative. Either that, or I would have a long squishy, stinky ride home.

I was quite familiar with the area nearby the lawn sale, as this was a road I drove on almost everyday to go to high school. It was not a very busy road, being surrouneded by woods on both sides. An idea struck me like a lightning bolt and the spark of hope became a conflagration. (Just wanted to use conflagration in a sentence, sorry!) The solution came to me. Does a bear shit in the woods? That I can neither confirm, nor deny, but I decided at that moment that I would.

I fired up the car and quickly sped away. My ex gave me a quizzical look and I tried to use some sort of sign language/ hand-signaling to indicate that I would be right back. She seemed to get the message because she appeared to go back to shopping. I couldn't tell exactly, because I was focused on getting to a place to do what I had to do and clenching my butt cheeks as tightly as possible. If I had a piece of coal, I would have shoved it between my cheeks and probably would have made a diamond.

I drove up the road about half a mile and pulled to the side of the road. The place I selected had woods on both sides, pretty close to the road and fairly thick. There was also enough room for me to pull the car completely off the road. Now this is where I might get accused of endangering the welfare of my children, depending on how rigid you follow the rules: I made a quick check of the kids to make sure they were all comfortable and settled in (they were). Carefully exiting the car (making sure not to bend, because I was sure that if I did, I would have lost control of my sphincter), I grabbed the keys, saw the baby's diaper bag, grabbed it and dashed madly into the woods. I was close enough where I could see the car and get to it in a second or two, but far enough so I wouldn't be squatting and waving to cars as they drove by.

I dug a quick hole with the heel of my shoe and dug the baby wipes out of the diaper bag. I was very proud of myself that despite the fact that all of my brain was devoted to preventing a messy accident, that I had the wherewithal to think about the post-poop clean up. I can just imagine trying to wipe with gathered leaves. It would have been more eco-friendly, for sure, but not that smooth on my butt. I gave one quick look to make sure there were no cars coming, or people wandering in the woods, dropped my pants and did the squat and drop. Sweet heaven! Sweet release!

I quickly got all the poop out, well maybe not all of it, but enough so that I could make it to a proper restroom and finish properly. I wiped, threw the used baby wipes into the hole and kicked the dirt back over my mess. I just have to say, for the record, I wish I could wipe with baby wipes all the time! You feel soooo clean afterwards. I quickly made my way back to the car and checked on the kids. They were all fine. No tears were shed. They just patiently waited for me to return. I turned the car around and headed back to the lawn sale to get my ex-wife and explain what I had done. For some strange reason she was neither shocked, nor surprised by my action.

This is a bit of a cautionary tale. When lawn-saling, make sure you have an established pooping strategy. When you are out there in the field (hopefully not literally), toilets are not always handy. Make sure you know where the public bathrooms are and the quickest route to them. Also, listen to your body. My bowels gave me plenty of warning, yet I kept ignoring them. The stomach cramps would rise and then subside making me think I could ride them out. I tempted fate, and fate almost won (a pair of pants and my dignity). Lastly, you should always carry baby wipes, even if you don't have a baby. They are to cleaning as duct tape is to home repairs. You never know where you may find yourself pooping, so be prepared!

On Unintended Plagiarism

I was listening to one of the comedy channels on iTunes the other day at work when I heard a bit of stand up by Dennis Miller. I am not sure what year this particular special was taped in, but it certainly made me mad. I enjoy Mr. Miller's stand up, as well as his TV show and his work on SNL, but in this set Dennis ruined my imaginary stand up career.

For years I had an idea for a little comedy bit. It wasn't a huge shtick (That's what she said!), but I told it to several people and usually got a good laugh from it. The more I told it, the more I tweaked it so that everything would be just right. I even said to myself that if I ever got the intestinal fortitude to go to an open mic night and do some stand up, this little routine would be in my set.

I have always loved stand up, but listening to a diverse selection of performers is a fairly new thing for me. When I was a kid I remember finding a Bill Cosby record in my parents' very eclectic music collection and listening to it over and over again. (I can still hear Bill making the sawing sounds as Noah was building the Ark.) As I got older, I can remember enjoying Eddie Murphy (Delirious and Raw, before he sold his soul to Disney... not that I'm judging), Sam Kinison and Andrew Dice Clay. (Yes, as loathe as I am to admit it, I remember loving the Diceman when he first came out. After hearing him at age 40, I can't understand what I ever found funny about the guy.) But it was only the comedians that were big at the time that were available for me to listen to. The Internet has allowed me to experience so many more artists. Thank you, Al Gore!

I used to go to comedy shows up in college, but I unfortunately went to St. Lawrence University, a small private school in the middle of nowhere. The college did not draw any big name comedians and the ones it did draw were probably rethinking their choice in agents after the show. I went to as many shows as I could, and even got pulled up on stage and got to pretend to be Tina Turner at one. The highlight of my collegiate stand up viewing was when Jay Mohr performed and I got to talk to him a little bit after his performance. He was still hosting Lip Service on MTV back then, so I guess there was little chance of his career sinking any lower! He was a pretty cool guy, from what I remember (which isn't much).

Throughout all of this, I never even had a chance to listen to any of Dennis Miller's material. Well I did catch him on the Weekend Update and on his HBO show, but not any of his stand up specials. Therefore, it was a bit of a shock when I heard a routine of his that was almost identical to the little bit I had created. I first heard this similar routine about a year ago and I know this special is older than that. There are some slight differences in our two pieces, but if anyone had heard both bits, I would surely have been accused of stealing his material.

There is a tiny chance that I heard his bit and liked it so much that I somehow unintentionally stole it. Maybe I repeated it and completely forgot the joke's origin. I am not sure when he first did this material but it was probably before I first came up with my routine. Even if I had come up with my stand up before he did his, I doubt he got it from me. (Gee, you think?) Unless he got it from some sort of nine degrees of separation scenario. If that was the case, maybe it passed through Kevin Bacon at one point? I truly think we just had the same idea and got to the same comedic place. You know what they say about great minds!

What is the routine you might be asking yourself? Well now that I have built it up it will probably not be nearly as funny as I always thought it was. This is how I used to tell it....

I was watching the Wizard of Oz the other day and it got to the end, after Dorothy risks life and limb to save the day and ends up missing the balloon back home. The good witch floats down and tells Dorothy, "You have had the power to go home all of the time!" If I was Dorothy I would have punched her right in the face and said, "Yeah bitch? I've had the power to go home all this time? You had the power to tell me this three hours ago!" I would have called her the "Not so Good" Witch of the North and a master manipulator as well. She lures Dorothy to Oz with the intent on having her kill off her witch competitors, which Dorothy does with a house and a bucket of water. I mean, how many witches were left after Dorothy's assassinations? Dorothy even "killed" the wizard, the ruler of Emerald City, in a sense. There was a serious power vacuum generated from all of Dorothy's "work," and only one witch to fill the void. It all sounds very suspicious to me.

I had another bit I had been working on as well, and was ready to use it when I thought I would do a Google search to see if there were any other skits similar to it on the Internet. Yep, once again, someone else shared the same thoughts that I did. Two people watched the same movie and saw something that made them laugh. (There are more than us out there, I just don't have the time or energy to do the research.) I must admit, the article that the other person wrote went into a lot more detail than mine and mentioned scenes throughout the movie. This is how my other little routine went...

The other day I was watching the classic film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. (No wonder I haven't had a lot of time for blogging; I have been watching all of these films. LOL.) I am not sure if I am the only one who feels this way but in my opinion, Grandpa Joe is an asshole.

You may be saying to yourself "Grandpa Joe, Charlie's lovable grandfather, an asshole? No!"

"YES!!"

Let me tell you why I feel this way. When we first meet the Bucket family, all four grandparents are bedridden. We never find out what exact ailment has confined them to their beds, but it is certainly implied that they are stuck there. I mean, if they could, they would surely be helping the family somehow. Charlie's mom is sweating over hot laundry vats, washing other people's clothes, and doing what she has to to provide for the family. Even Charlie is selling papers, to bring in more cash to support everybody. But the grandparents? They are too sick to work or even get out of bed.


As if earning enough money to get food on the table (or bed trays) for six people wasn't enough, they give Grandpa Joe an allowance for tobacco? Seriously? Are we supposed to feel like he is this wonderful grandparent for stopping his vice and using the money to buy Charlie a chocolate bar for his birthday? Has anyone else realized that this was probably Charlie's money to begin with? Despite all of the odds, Charlie finds the last Golden Ticket and brings it home. The next thing you know, not only does Grandpa Joe get up out of bed, but he starts dancing around the room. Dancing? Really? He goes from freeloader to Fred Astaire in less than a minute. All this time he could have gotten up and done something to help the family, maybe even allowed Charlie to be a normal kid and not have work selling papers, but nope. Why ruin a good thing?! What would have been nice, is if they got to the Chocolate factory and the whole thing was just an elaborate ruse. Willy Wonka paid Charlie a large some of money and Grandpa Joe was forced to work in the chocolate factory for the rest of his days.

Comedians are often accused of stealing material from their peers and are usually hammered unmercifully for it. I am not going to say that this doesn't happen, but I certainly think that it is possible for several different people to see or experience something and find the same humor in it. There are only so many experiences and situations that are shared by all of us, and only so many ways they can be made funny. Unintentional plagiarism seems like a plausible excuse. So the next time that you hear a comedian and think that their routine sounds a bit familiar, try and give them the benefit of the doubt. But if they suck, let them have it!

I can not guarantee that all of my musings are unique and have never been written nor thought before by someone else. I can only promise that I am sitting on the toilet, in the car, on the bed - wherever I am writing - and spewing forth the craziness as it comes into my head.