nowthatssick

Five Sure-Fire Ways to Get Your Ass Kicked in a Biker Bar.

2009-05-06T16:35:00.001-07:00

5.) Toss the keys to your Prius at the bouncer and admonish, "Now you be careful with Daddy's toy!"

4.) Instruct the bartender to, "Be a good fellow and fetch me the wine list...and while you're at would you mind switching the channel to the Bravo Network?"

3.) Slowly stir your drink, tear at your cocktail napkin, and between sobs pout, "What's a brother gotta do to get a hug around here?"

2.) Proudly show off your t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan, "Free Mustache Rides".

1.) Laugh at your beer-drinking buddy, toss your head back and loudly proclaim: "I'm reminded of what Oscar Wilde once said..."

I invite your suggestions...

Don't Forget: It's Nurse's Week!

2009-05-05T14:47:00.000-07:00

Just found out that this week is Nurse's Week. I think that in honor of this occasion we should ask our spouse to dress up, and...

Um...on second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea. Amie's giving me that look that says, "Time for you to get off the computer, honey."

More later. I hope.

Well, Waddaya Know?

2009-05-05T13:59:00.000-07:00

It would appear that the fine folks at eBlogger have been reading my site. No sooner do I post that - for some inexplicable reason - my profile counter stuck on 16,756 than they fix it. Well, sort of fixed it.

Now, instead of a specific number, it provides me with an "approximate" number. They've rounded up to 17,000. Guess the traffic is too much to count.

Guess now I know how Ronald feels.

Even MORE Motivational Poster Madness.

2009-04-29T17:04:00.000-07:00

Just received these from one of my father's friends...thought you'd enjoy them:

Men Are From Mac, Women Are From PC.

2009-04-27T22:51:00.000-07:00

I know...I've not been posting in nearly two weeks. Usually there's nobody to blame for my paucity of posting but me. But this time I've got a great excuse...although - believe you me - I'd rather blame my lazy self.

My computer is dead. Or, to be more precise, is on life support, and the EEGs are flat-lining.

Two weeks ago I turned on my Mac and it made a noise that I can only describe as a cross between a butter churn and a 1950's pinball machine on perpetual "Tilt". Now I'm no computer genius, but I think that can be technically labeled a bad sound. I called my good friend, Graham, a self-professed computer geek who just so happens to work for Apple. Like all computer geeks, Graham's first question was, "when was the last time you backed up your data to your hard drive?" I suspect that they all know the answer, and that the answer is always some derivation of "never". I also suspect they ask this question for no other reason than it allows them to immediately create a sense of superiority over you.

So there. That's my excuse. And if you cared, you'd say a prayer that I am able to get most of the data off of my computer's hard drive. And, if you really cared, you'd by me a new Mac laptop. Oh, and a free-standing hard drive, too. In the meantime I am relegated to using Amie's computer. It's a PC. The experience has me thinking of writing a new book, "Men Are From Mac, Women are from PC".

In other news, have you ever wondered what full-blown A.D.D. feels like? Well, if you have, may I suggest you surf over to the Fox Business News channel? There really is only one reason to watch this channel...and that reason is Dave Ramsey. Tonight Amie and I tuned in about 10 minutes prior to his show, and caught the tail end of "Happy Hour". I'm convinced that if A.D.D. screwed me up more than ten minutes of this show did, I would be jumping out a window.

I can just image how the brainiacs over at Fox Business News pitched this one. "CNBC's kicking our ass...we need a amp'd up, high-energy, closing bell recap show of our own. Let's have three hosts! Let's make one of them a ex-jock looking guy, one a Gen Nexer who flips his hair more than Twiggy on a photo shoot, and the other some nonsensical eye candy. And let's make sure none of them have a clue about finance!"

Trust me, stay away from this unwatchable crapfest...unless you're pulling an all-nighter and have run out of both caffeine and sugar.

The Number of THIS Beast.

2009-04-16T15:07:00.000-07:00

16,756 is now my new lucky number. For the past four weeks the counter on my eBlogger Profile Visits has been stuck on - you guessed it! - 16,756. It would appear that once you've had 16,756 visitors, you've reached your limit. I'm okay with this.

Oh, and in case you were wondering...I despise heavy metal music.

Really Screwed Up.

2009-04-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm really not much on pretense. This is especially true when it comes to wine. In fact, I have a theory that 99.9% of the men who proudly call themselves "Wine Experts" are the exact same kids who were routinely beaten up in high school*. It's the pretense and snobbery that permeates wine which makes it so difficult to convert non-wine drinkers. This is a widely known - and lamented - industry fact.

Another wine fact is that there's always someone trying to invent the next "cool" gadget to allow the wine lover to part with their money...over something other than a bottle of wine. I was reminded of both of these truths recently when I received an unsolicited sales pitch from a company known as Vimentis. To my surprise, it wasn't a solicitation for yet another medical means of male enhancement!

Vimentis is a Canadian business which markets a gadget that fills the void when one asks, "How can I class up the opening of a screwcapped wine bottle?" Well, if asked, my answer would be, "By getting a manicure?" Vimentis thinks the answer is, "By buying our product!" It seems that the fine folks over at Vimentis wants to remind us that selling wine is all about reinforcing pretense, romance...and gadgetry.

And dig their se-duc-tive ad copy! "There is something to be said about the ritual of cork removal..." I'll say there is. It detracts from your enjoyment of your wine, your meal and your table companions. "...and something subsequently lacking when a server presents your wine in a restaurant only to do a quick wrist twist and be done with it." Really? Isn't that a bit tantamount to complaining, "Sure, the movie was great...but the previews they showed before the movie totally ruined the evening", or, "the food at that restaurant was incredible, but the color of their menu covers!" "Vimentis - Bringing Ritual and Romance to the Wine Screw Cap." Is the public really screaming out about the lack of this?

Call me silly, but when it comes to wine, it should be about the wine.

Alas, Vimentis isn't the first company to try to sex up the opening of a screwcap. The first one I encountered was a device that is now known as the WineFritz. I encountered this device years back at a wine event in Vail, Colorado. The inventors - noticing that all the wines on my table were screwcapped - quickly approached me and laid on their well-rehearsed sales' pitch.

"We've invented a device which adds romance to opening a screwcap!" they proclaimed, to which I asked, "Why do you think there needs to be additional romance? Isn't part of the beauty of the screwcap the ease of its use?" They explained that, being owners of a very popular restaurant in neighboring Breckenridge, they knew (or believed they knew) that the addition of romance meant the addition of a heaftier tip for their servers. And, the couple in front of me reasoned, as many wineries provided promotional corkscrews to restaurant servers, perhaps I'd like to buy some of their screwcap devices - emblazoned with my logo - as giveaways?

I picked up their nifty, not-so-little device and asked them, "Have you given any thought to how impractical this is for repeated tableside service?" My comment was met with blank stares. "Think about it," I stated, "a corkscrew fits easily into a server's back pocket or apron. This think is so big, there's no way a server can walk around with it. I'll bet you they'll lose this thing within the first night of using it." Their jaws dropped simultaneously. "But," I added, "you're never going to lose my handy invention for opening screwcaps." Smiling, I held it up:

And they didn't cost me - nor you - anything. Thank goodness for my opposable thumbs. I never go anywhere without them!

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*And I'm betting the remaining 0.10% just didn't hear the question correctly.

Wherein My Annual Karen Black Quota is Met.

2009-04-14T21:36:00.001-07:00

I have been around airplanes and aviation most of my life. And I'll admit that when I board a commercial airliner I replay a macabre fantasy (which I no doubt share with my fellow Aviators) that fleetingly rears its head as I make my way to my seat: that somehow the pilots would become incapacitated, and it would be up to me to land the plane.

It could a 'minor collision' with an errant private plane, like in Airport 1975. Or, it could be that the crew succumbed to food poisoning after eating fish, al la Airplane! Regardless of the reasons of how we get there, the end result is always the same: my uncanny abilities to fly any plane saves the day. Hey...I did say it was a fantasy!

And while I've only dreamt it, Doug White of Archibald, Louisiana has lived it. The lucky bastard.

Last Sunday, White and his family were flying from Marco Island, FL to Jackson, MS after attending funeral services for his brother. Okay, so he's not that lucky...it has to be terrible to lose a brother. They were flying in a Beechcraft King Air, a nice turboprop, twin-engine plane to be sure, but certainly not a 747. And while the article didn't mention it, I imagine that this must've been a charter flight, because King Airs are not flown by any regularly-scheduled airline that I' aware of. That is, unless you're going to Hooterville.

Shortly after takeoff, White noticed the pilot was slouched over, and wasn't at all communicative. He quickly surmized the pilot was out (sadly, he later died), and communicated this information to air traffic control. How'd he know how to do that, you ask? Turns out Doug White is a pilot with a single-engine rating and about 130 hours. While that's not a whole lot of flying hours, it's about 100 more than you need to get your pilot's license. So he did have a fairly good - pardon the pun - grounding in landing airplanes.

Hmmm. So, while sad and something you don't read about everyday, this really wasn't so amazing. It's like asking your son, three months into having his driver's license, to parallel park your Porsche. Sure, it would elevate his stress (and yours), but it's not as if he's never parked a car before.

Well done, Doug White...but I take it back. You're not a 'lucky bastard' after all. As for me, I'm holding out for the Big Time. Only hope I don't throw a hissy fit like Karen Black did in Airport 1975.

Silence: The New "No".

2009-04-14T12:32:00.000-07:00

Like anyone conducting a job search, I've gotten quite acclimated to hearing the word, "no". No jobs at the present time. No, thank you, we're not interested. Sorry, but no. It's a natural part of job prospecting.

But since when did silence come to substitute "no"?

It seems that in today's workplace there just isn't time for common, professional courtesy anymore. This in spite of the fact that we're bluetoothed to the gills with phones, faxes, multiple email accounts...plenty of opportunities for constant communication.

I know, I know...I'm griping. But it amazes me that potential employers will take the time to talk, interview, meet and follow up with you...up until that time they've made a decision. And, if that decision does not include you, there is seemingly no need for further discussion.

I guess I was taught to have better manners than that.

Best Gift I Ever Gave.

2009-04-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

Posting about cheese in a can reminded me of a time long ago when I decided to make some special Christmas gifts for my closest friends. In retrospect, they were perhaps the greatest gifts I ever gave. And, if not "the greatest", then at least the most - um - original.

It's 1991. At that point in my life I was living in Gainesville, Georgia, working in my family's business. My father owned a company which produced a wide range of liquid and aerosol consumer goods; most notably, WD-40 and Barbasol Shave Cream. The company was, for some time, the world's largest manufacturer of shave creams and gels. Most weekends found me on a 60-foot houseboat (my home for a few years, but that's another story), usually sharing a few bottles of wine with some of my friends. On one of these weekends a friend of mine joked about the idea of wine in an aerosol can.

Uh-huh. You can see where this is going.

The following week I happened to be in the company research lab, inspecting a gel shave cream can. Now, shave gels are packaged in a aerosol can known as a 'barrier pack'. That is to say that the product is kept out of contact with the propellant used to dispense the product. This can be done via a plastic piston or plastic sleeve or bag. It wasn't long before I thought, "You know? I could easily put wine in the plastic bag, crimp a valve on it, and charge it with propellant. Then you'd have wine in a bag!"

So it was that I produced "¡Three Amigos! Wine-In-A-Can". The name, "¡Three Amigos!" referred to a fictitious winery owned by me and two buddies of mine (and, of course, a reference to one of my favorite movies of all time), and seemed a fitting name. The next weekend I presented my friends with a can of wine, and we enjoyed a chuckle or two.

With the approach of the Holiday season, I thought that my Wine-In-A-Can could be taken to it's next logical step. So was born the "Mat Garretson Cheap Date Kit"!:

In addition to the ¡Three Amigos! Wine-In-A-Can, there was a can of Cheese-In-A-Can, conveniently shrink-wrapped together. I tied a small bag of oyster crackers to the neck of the can o'cheese, and - TA-DA! - there you had it. The gift even came with a note instructing you to, "tilt your date's head back, ask her to open her mouth, spray equal parts wine and cheese, and drop in a cracker. No muss! No fuss! No dirty glasses or dishes!"

Sadly, I never kept a "Cheap Date Kit" package for myself...I gave them all away. If you happen to find one, let me know. They're incredibly valuable collector's items! Well, to me, anyway.

And There Was Much Rejoicing.

2009-04-05T06:39:00.001-07:00

YEAH!

The Agony of Choice.

2009-04-02T14:14:00.000-07:00

No. Really...trust me. Any choice is painful. Still waiting for them to come out with a Pont-l'Évêque version.

Ah...The Smell of It!

2009-03-30T13:14:00.000-07:00

Reading about bacon-flavored vodka got me thinking. I know...not a necessarily good idea. With all this lamenting the current state of the economy, why not come up with a distilled spirit that could cash in on our national psyche...in a very literal sense?

Offered for your consideration: LIQUID A$$ET. The world's first (and, as far as I know, only) premium vodka infused with genuine, U.S. One Hundred Dollar Bills. Just think of the promotions!

"Finally! An intoxicating beverage that will really help to piss away your money!"
"You think it's expensive? Just wait until you taste it!"
"If you have to ask, you can't afford it."
"Common sense for your common cents."

I know. The possibilities are endless!

Makin' Bacon.

2009-03-30T08:33:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Exhibit A: Bakon. A bacon-flavored vodka. That's right...a bacon-flavored vodka.

It looks as if science has solved that age old dilemma: how to get your pig belly fix and drunk all at the same time. Bakon. It lubricates without the greasy side effects.

And dig the use of the "K" in the logo. It fetches your attention in a way so Southern...like "Kountry Kitchen". The producers happily play up the fact that theirs is a potato-based, bacon-infused vodka. I guess this means that all you need do is drop a raw egg in a shot glass, pour in the Bakon and you've got the makings of a healthy breakfast to start your day!

Now, don't get me wrong...I love bacon. I love bacon. But I find America's preoccupation with bacon a bit...well, weird. I'm predicing a quick boom-and-bust life cycle for Bakon (and bacon, for that matter) similar to that other bandier of the 11th letter of the English alphabet: Krispy Kreme.

That's right. Bacon is now in my dead pool. Oh, I'll still eat it (and really enjoy it...especially if it's Benton Farms' Bacon!). But Bacon is far too trendy for my tastes.

Tone Deaf.

2009-03-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

I've always felt that GOP Minority Whip Eric Cantor was a bit of a tool. The guy's been harping on Obama should he do anything that remotely looks as if the President is taking his attention away from the economic crisis has himself found the need to spend last night pondering - ahem - different assets.

That's right. Cantor went to a Brittany Spears' concert.

Hmmm. A coulda been watching a has-been. In one evening Cantor has proven he has neither an ear for music or the American people.

There's a joke in there somewhere. Feel free to come up with your own punchline.

The View.

2009-03-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

My family and I enjoyed a very relaxing Sunday, thank you very much. Early in the morning I took a long walk around the neighborhood. It was sunny and VERY windy, and reminded me for all the world of walking around the Mountains of Morne in Ireland. Here's the view I enjoyed:

Not too shabby, eh?

Watching & Waiting.

2009-03-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

From the moment Jack and Thom leave for school until the moment they return, this is usually where you'll see VIVI. Watching and waiting for her brothers to come home and play with her.

Boy, does this Dawg love those boys!

Someday My Prince Will Come.

2009-03-18T13:17:00.000-07:00

And, when I say, "Prince" I mean "Job". Oh, and when I say, "Someday", I really mean "Today". And it goes without saying that when I say "Will", that really means "Better".

There. Are we clear now?

The Kids Aren't Alright.

2009-03-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

It's true. In the end, we usually become that which we use to rail against becoming. Call it the caving in, call it joining the establishment, call it growing up. As you progress through life, you mellow. It's not that you refuse to acknowledge your inner rebel...you just come to that point in your life where you finally realize that the cause needs to be worthy of your rebelling against.

And, when you've finally reached that point, it's easy to view members of the younger generation as something that was spawned from parents not even remotely human.

About a week ago I received an invitation to become a Facebook Friend of someone named "Alan Wine Merchant". Not knowing who this person was, I was hesitant to connect. My research found that this was actually a wine merchant in the UK. Over the course of my career, I've sold a lot of my wines to a wide number of British merchants, and figured that this individual may have known me through a visit. Seeing no harm in the offer, I accepted their invitation. And, in the course of our short, one-week friendship, I received three separate offers from my new friend on wines he wanted to sell me. Ugh.

Yesterday I wrote to this chap (like how I can slip into the vernacular?) and politely explained that, if his sole purpose to be on Facebook was to spam his 'friends' with such offers, then I would appreciate him removing me from his list. Short, sweet, and - I thought - polite. Within a few hours I received the following response:

F*CK OFF! Get a life old man and stop leaving rude comments on my wall you obnoxious old bastard!!!!

Really? Am I really that old?

There certainly is a disconnect between the "Gen Xers" and me. On the whole they exhibit an enormous disconnect with both reality and civility...especially in the professional world. The overwhelming sense of entitlement that pours from their mouths is both amazing and sad.

Yesterday's encounter reminded me of another encounter with the younger generation. There is a magazine called Wine X, an allegedly hip, trendy wine publication designed to capture the attention of similarly allegedly hip, trendy wine drinkers. It's painful to read, all posturing, posing fluff (and badly-written fluff at that) that has little or no substance. Obviously, enough people shared this opinion, and the magazine soon fell off the radar.

Anyhow, shortly after its launch, I was contacted by the publisher, a one Darryl Roberts, who asked if I would help him on an article they were preparing on Viognier. At that time I was on a one-man crusade to take this hip, trendy grape from obscurity to mainstream, and would have talked to any media type about it...including one who represented his rag. Of the course of our meeting, I provided Mr. Roberts with a number of handouts I had prepared on Viognier. Imagine my surprise when I read the finished piece and found that a large percentage of their 'report' was comprised of verbatim transfers from my handout.

I soon contacted Roberts and expressed my concern that what he had committed was, basically, plagiarism. This hip, trendy publisher immediately responded with, "You should feel lucky that we even bothered to print your stuff!" When I explained that he was perhaps unaware that his actions were not only unprofessional but legally actionable, he decided to print a corrective acknowledgement in the very next issue.

Amazing, but true.

Perhaps my encounters with the self-absorbed, disconnected from reality, 'me-me-me' generation has provided me with a cause worthy of rebelling against? Nah. They're not worth the time and trouble...and it is fun observing their whiny-baby antics.

"Quick, Robin! To the Bat...Elephant!"

2009-03-16T19:37:00.001-07:00

Over the course of his career, Adam West has subjected viewers to some truly bad theater*. My buddy Efrain found this publicity still...no doubt taken at some po-dunk state fair. I don't know who was suffering more humiliation, West or the elephant? Given his body of work, I'm betting on Jumbo. If those blue tights could talk.

Sorry for the sparcity of posts, but I have been busy searching for gainful employment. Hmmm. Perhaps there's a state fair in need of entertainment?
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*Insert obligatory, vague Leonard Pinth-Garnell reference here.

From Our "Pissing Away Taxpayer's Money" Department...

2009-03-09T22:08:00.001-07:00

For those of you unaware, the state of Pennsylvania serves as the primary retailer of alcoholic beverages within its borders. And, like most business better suited to private enterprise, the PA government does a horrifically bad job as a liquor retailer. And, while you normally get what you pay for, the fine citizens of the Keystone State sure don't. They actually get to pay higher prices for such crappy service.*

The whole shebang is operated by the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (PLCB for short). The PLCB recently announced that it was spending more than $173,000 to spruce up their nearly 650 stores. Better selections? New signs? Cleaner stores? No, no and no. The money is being spent in hiring a consulting firm that will train store employees to be more courteous. It would appear my belief that PA drinkers pay too much would be right: even in these scant economic times, the PLCB can just piss their (uh...if you live in PA, your) money away!

That's right. Some bright bulb at the PLCB feel that these government employees need to learn to be nicer! They want to make sure clerks are saying "hello," "thank you" and "come again" as they stick it to their customers. Having encountered more than my fare share of these dairy cows masquerading as retailers, I can tell you that - on its face - it's not a bad idea. The ones that I've met have a fairly fatalistic outlook on their career choice. Like most ineffectual governmental employees, these members of the PLCB must have as their motto, "Sure I'm dead wood...but you can't fire me!"

Let's see...there are about 4,000 PLCB employees. $173,000 divided by 4,000 is $43.25. Hell, pay me $20 per employee and I'll just kick 'em in the ass and say, "Smile and be happy you're living off the state teat!" Should affect the same results. I can pretty much guarantee you that the terms "gracious customer service" and "government employee" are mutually exclusive. ..or at least are to the point that no amount of money spent on training will change things. Here's just a suggestion - and I'm just spit-balling here - why don't you just DISMANTLE THE WHOLE DAMN PLCB SYSTEM?!?

Now, to be sure, there have been a few candidates for Governor in PA who have voiced agreement that the whole PLCB should be abolished. That's before they've assumed office. I can only guess that no sitting Governor wants to be remembered as the one who gave 4,000 employees (read: voters) their pink slips. Well, don't you think being made redundant has become en vogue these days? Everyone employer is doing it...so why not add a few more to the ranks in Pennsylvania?

In my experiences selling wine around the globe, there's only one state that surpasses Pennsylvania for sheer ineptitude and idiocy in its regulations and selling of alcoholic beverages. That state would be Utah. But, hell, at least they have an excuse: their state is linked pretty intimately with the Mormon faith. What's PA's excuse?

Do yourself a favor: find ANY excuse not to buy your booze in the state of Pennsylvania. Even if the clerk does smile and say, 'have a nice day'.

* "How crappy?" you ask? So crappy, that Philadelphia residents took to the roads, and were driving over to nearby Cherry Hill, NJ to buy their booze from cheaper, privately-owned and operated retailers. And, in a flourish of typical governmental efficiency, the state of Pennsylvania found a solution...no, not in lowering prices and increasing service, but by staking out NJ liquor stores and pulling over anyone driving a car with PA plates as soon as they crossed the border. THAT'S how crappy!

30-Second Movie Review: Bottle Shock.

2009-03-09T14:56:00.000-07:00

Is the kind of movie that results when you take the posing pretentiousness of

And the self-aggrandizing romanticism of a fairly unromantic industry like, say

And mix it all into the cinematic version of a

Creating, in the end, something that is a lot like

(Face)Book of Lists.

2009-03-09T11:28:00.000-07:00

I joined Facebook almost a year ago, but really have only been actively participating on it within the last two months. This activity came about after I had received three messages from old friends, none of which I'd heard from since my college days. Those three contacts have since spread into hundreds of old friends and acquaintances...from high school, college, extended family and various work-related businesses.

It seems that everyone my age has decided to sign onto Facebook. It's akin to salmon swimming upstream to spawn, or the Swallows returning to Capistrano. Perhaps we're all just feeling that we're sliding into the last half of our lives, and are interested to know how old friends are fairing on their rides.

One of the unintended consequences of being a member of Facebook is that I've received literally hundreds of 'list requests' from fellow members. These request basically consist of a friend sharing with you their - say - Top 10 favorite movies, or their Top 15 favorite albums. The idea being that you will learn something about your friend...and, of course, they want you to reciprocate. It's as if all your friends now think of themselves as self-appointed James Liptons, and wanted to get to know the real me.

Well, if you share such aspirations, let me share with you now one such list that I actually responded to:

25 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:

25.) I tend to be a fairly impatient person. It’s my worst trait, but I’m working on it.

24.) If I see something that needs to be done I all too often jump right in with both feet and take on the task myself. That’s lead to countless great (and a few really stupid) adventures.

23.) Usually when people ask where I’m from I say, “Georgia.” That said, I’m actually from Chicago, Illinois. By the time I turned 14, my family had moved five times (Chicago, Cherry Hill, NJ; Tustin, CA; St. Charles, IL; Dunwoody, GA). Georgia is where I truly grew up. It’s where I went to high school and college, it’s where my parents, most of my siblings and my oldest friends live.

22.) If I could live anywhere in the U.S., I’d love a big house on the coast, somewhere South of Charleston, SC, and North of the Georgia/Florida border. If I could live anywhere in the world, it’d be in the middle of a vineyard in the French appellation of Bandol.

21.) My wife and I were born on the same day - November 4th, yet seven years apart. As I’ve a twin sister, it means that I’ve always shared my birthday with a woman.

20.) The best birthday present I have ever received was when I was seven years old. I didn’t actually receive this present until I was 36.

19.) We have a Bulldog named “VIVI” (pronounced “viv-vee”). Her daddy was UGA VI, and her brother is UGA VII. As much as I love her, I am much more inclined to have an Airedale as a pet. But my boys love UGA, and you can’t say, “no thanks” to Sonny Seiler.

18.) I’ve four siblings…three older brothers and a sister. Of the five of us, I’m the one with the most gray hair. I attribute this fact that I’m the only one who started their own business.

17.) I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I could go for months on end without something sweet…but if there’s a cheese course on the menu, lookout!

16.) I lived on a houseboat for nearly three years. Winters on a houseboat really helps to clarify who your real friends are.

15.) For most of my youth I planned to make my living as a Naval Aviator. Then I had the opportunity to learn first-hand that there was very little flying involved. I still love to fly, but I’m glad I didn’t choose that as my career path.

14.) And, while I like the career path I choose; namely, the wine business, I cannot abide the level of pretentiousness and entitlement that pervades the industry. Far too many of my contemporaries have entered the wine business for lifestyle, not livelihood.

13.) I’ve been to my share of Tailhook Association conventions, and you shouldn’t believe everything you’ve read about them.

12.) When I was younger, I was somewhat obsessed with Star Wars…so much so, that I actually saw it over 70 times when it came out in 1977. I never knew that being a geek would serve me so well…until I became the father of two young boys.

11.) I have an amazingly large head, literally speaking.

10.) For someone who has made his living speaking in front of large audiences, I really don’t like public speaking all that much.

9.) Before I can begin to cook the family dinner, I need to ensure the dishwasher is empty. In this way, I can clean as I cook. Some people would call this obsessive behavior. I prefer to call it ‘being organized’.

8.) But I know it IS obsessive behavior.

7.) Every serious relationship that I have had with any woman prior to Amie has ended with that woman eventually becoming a lawyer. I don’t know what that means, but there you have it.

6.) I have two scars on the top of my right hand. These are the result of accidentally putting my hand into a mechanical box sealer while working at my father’s aerosol business.

5.) I’ve had the good fortune to play golf on some of the world’s greatest courses. Every time I’m golfing, I think to myself, “Why don’t I play golf more often?” It’s only when I enter the receipts for green fees, cart rental and the bar tab into my checkbook that I remember why.

4.) If granted the opportunity to start a new career, and money were no object, I’d be hard pressed to choose between being a writer or the curator of a real good aviation museum.

3.) If I could change one thing about me physically, it would be to cure myself of allergies. Cosmetic dental work would be a close second.

2.) I really don’t understand the attraction of horror movies. The idea of spending good money to get the crap scared out of you makes no sense. To me, movies should either make you laugh or make you think.

1.) In my wife I’ve found the embodiment of true happiness, commitment, and unconditional love. I try each day to prove worthy of her.

There. Do you feel that you know me any better?

"I Got a Rock."

2009-03-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

As if dispel any doubts that the United States is pinching its pennies, President Obama's choice of parting gifts to British Prime Minister Gordon Brown surely put the world on notice of this fact. As is customary when a visiting head of state pays a visit to the White House, Prime Minister Brown presented the President with some thoughtful tokens of his country's esteem and appreciation. Custom dictates that our President reciprocate in this gesture.

The Prime Minister of England saw fit to present President Obama with a penholder carved from the oak timbers of HMS Gannet, a Victorian-era ship which spearheaded the Royal Navy's fight against slave trading. This present was especially thoughtful in light of the fact the desk which Obama sits behind in the Oval Office was carved from oak salvaged from the Gannet's sister ship, HMS Resolute. In addition, Brown - on behalf of the people of the United Kingdom - gifted the President with a framed copy of the commission for the HMS Resolute, as well as first-editions of the seven-volume biography of Sir Winston Churchill by Sir Martin Gilbert. All in all, some very fitting, very thoughtful gifts.

And how did President Obama reciprocate? With a "special" collection of 25 "classic" American films. Yes, you read right...with a box set you or I could have easily obtained by by giving a large enough donation to any PBS station, or by going down to your local Blockbuster's! Come to think of it, Blockbuster's is on the ropes these days...perhaps these gifts are a sign of yet another economic bailout in the works?

Looking over the list, I have to agree that there are some true cinematic treasures there, but I wouldn't say these represent the best, all-time, Top 25 movies made in America. To begin with, City Lights needs to go, as does any movie starring Charlie Chaplin...the cinematic definition of 'overrated' if ever there was one. And as much as I love Buster Keaton (a real talent of the silent screen, unlike Chaplin), I don't think The General should have made this list. Although I'm quite a fan of science fiction, he gifted 2001 and E.T.? Honestly?? And how could you include just one installment out of the six in the Star Wars' franchise? Not that any of them rates Top 25 status. It is interesting to note that the one he did include is entitled, The Empire Strikes Back. Now there's a Freudian slip if ever there was one! And two Hitchcock films? And one of them isn't North by Northwest? Give me a break.

And the gifting only got worse: the Browns presented the Obama girls with dresses from the stylish UK Topshop stores, as well as six books written by British authors whose works are soon to be released in the U.S. In return, the Obamas provided the Browns with two models of the "Marine One" presidential helicopter for them to pass along their two sons. Whoopie!

Given the paltry presents, something tells me that Obama's staff forgot about this little act of gifting protocol until the Browns were just hours away from departing. And, after the staffers voiced a collective "DOH!", some poor underling hoofed it over to the gift shop at the Smithsonian and bought the first things they saw.

I'm thinking that - if he knows anything about popular American culture - Gordon Brown has now got to feel a little like Charlie Brown. Especially Charlie Brown on Halloween night. You remember the scene...Charlie and his friends go out trick-or-treating, and at each door all of the other kids get great candy, and Charlie Brown looks into his bag, and says, "I got a rock."

When it comes to gifts of State, Gordon Brown got a rock.

With gifts as thoughtful as the Obama's, I'm thinking I know what Brazil's President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has to look forward to on his March 14th visit to Washington:

Compliments of the United States, Luiz! Don't spend it all in one night.

Guess it Could ALWAYS be Worse.

2009-03-06T09:29:00.000-08:00

All this blogging about how bad the job market might make you believe that I don't realize how good I've got it. I'm married to the woman of my dreams, have two great sons, and a smelly, semi-famous Dawg. I could always have followed my original career plans of being a server at a Hooters. Thankfully I didn't. The wings suck and the customers don't tip...with the exception of John Daly. And he just tips over...

ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND!

SLO Going.

2009-03-05T12:06:00.000-08:00

In my life the question, "How's the job search going?" has become so commonplace that it's replaced, "How's the weather out there?" I anticipate hearing it from everyone I talk to, including complete strangers. In case you were wondering, the job search is going just fine, thanks for asking. It's the finding of the right job that's a bit more problematic.

Yesterday I read that one in ten Californians are now out of work. Good to know I'm in such plentiful company.

Nearly every night Amie and I review prospects, and make determinations on (and changes to) our gameplan. One startlingly obvious thing we recognize - besides the fact that the entire global economy sucks right now - is that we may be victims of geographical undesirability. San Luis Obispo, known its friends and admirers as "SLO", is in all other ways a seemingly desirable place to live...unless you're an executive looking for gainful employment.

It's odd. A national organization of realtors recently ranked SLO as the #2 most expensive place to own a house. New York City took the #1 spot. I blame this bit of dubious distinction on author Garrison Keillor. In one of his books Keillor proclaimed San Luis Obispo as his absolute, most-favorite city to perform in. And, as we all know, residents of Minnesota are looking for any excuse to move...just point them in the right direction. The bastard.

The naked truth is this: you need to have made your millions outside of SLO to live in SLO. Residents (myself included) relish the fact that it's far away from the maddening crowds of LA and San Francisco; in fact, we're nearly smack dab between the two. No traffic, no crowds, no noise. And, as I'm finding out, no jobs. At least no jobs that don't require my mastering the phrase, "Do you want fries with that?"

Being so far removed from a major hub of industry, has me wondering: do we need to move to a big city to even be considered for a job? Given the fact that an ever-increasing number of the nation's working class is no longer working, there are plenty of qualified execs closer to major markets than I am. This fact does give one pause.

When I contemplate such a possible necessity, I can't help but be reminded of the lyrics to one of my favorite Style Council songs, Homebreakers:

"Move around...if you can't find work in your hometown."

That, and one of my favorite works of literature:

Call me Joad.

GOP = Gone Out to Pasture?

2009-02-25T10:41:00.000-08:00

Did you happen to watch President Obama's address to Congress last night? All in all, I thought it was a pretty good speech. Did you catch the GOP's response to Obama's speech? If you didn't, how can I sum it up for you in a few words? 'Pathetic' comes to mind, as does, 'embarrassing', 'uninformed' and 'woefully out of touch'.

The speech was delivered by burgeoning Republican star, Bobby Jindal, Governor of Louisiana. GOP insiders point to Jindal as a rising star within the party, and someone who - if he doesn't screw it up - may very well head the Republican ticket within the next two presidential election cycles. His speech was stilted, filled with factual errors, and, in some instances, was downright nonsensical.

Honestly...is this the cream of the GOP crop? If it is, then the party's usefulness is past its expiration date.

Please understand, I proudly count myself as a conservative. But I'm a conservative in the Teddy Roosevelt/Barry Goldwater mold. Along with Lincoln, I consider T.R. to be the finest president this nation has ever had. And Goldwater's book, "Conscious of a Conservative" is a must-read if you really want to understand the pure core of conservative thought. The party traditionally associated with this way of thinking has been the Republican Party...but that seems to be a thing of the past. It has strayed from the path of rational conservative thinking as to have perhaps become irrelevant.

Having had their heads handed to them in the last two election cycles, the Republican Party is running around like a headless chicken. A lack of a head - and the rational, thinking brain contained therein - is the only reason I can conclude as to why the Republicans have trotted out the likes of Bobby Jindal...and Sarah Palin and Michael Steele as the new leaders of the (once) Grand Old Party. If this is the future, give me the past, thank you.

It's time true conservatives wrestle back the party from these vacuous, bloviating children, and get back to basic, core conservative beliefs. If it doesn't happen soon, we're in for a one-party country for some time. And that would be a bad thing.

Idle Hands.

2009-02-25T08:31:00.000-08:00

I know, I know...I really need another hobby other than Photoshop. But, in my defense, the last few weeks have been rather rainy, and it's been difficult to practice my other hobby of outdoor cat juggling. As we all know, cats hate getting wet.

But, thankfully for us all, the skies around SLO have finally parted, and the sun is out. Which means I'll be out and away from my computer. But, before I do, let me leave you with my latest Photoshop effort:

Fans of great Bourbon will have no trouble identifying this as a blatant knock-off of one of the best Bourbons on this (or any other) planet: Old Rip Van Winkle's Family Reserve 20 Year Old. If you have never heard of, or have never had tasted, the exceptional efforts of this master distiller, I urge you to check them out HERE. They are the benchmark for Bourbon.

Over the years I've been fortunate to have gotten to know Julian and Sissy Van Winkle, proprietors of Old Rip Van Winkle Distillery. I only hope that this tongue-in-cheek tribute to the 20 Year Old doesn't upset them. They've got a pretty good sense of humor, though. It remains to be seen if I do.

And with that, I'm out the door!

Isn't He Lovely?

2009-02-22T17:11:00.000-08:00

Given the overwhelmingly favorable response for my Peter Frampton album cover (thank you, Mel Hill!), I thought I'd offer up yet another example of Photoshop prowess. This time, it's Motown:
Enjoy your week!

Bad Santa.

2009-02-20T11:16:00.000-08:00

DRUNK SANTA FELL ON ME, WOMAN CLAIMS
February 19, 2009 7:17 PM

A Chicago woman who claims a drunken man in a Santa Claus suit stumbled and fell on top of her, knocking her face-first into the sidewalk outside a Chicago restaurant, is taking the overly-jolly man to court.

Antoinette Basso filed suit today against the allegedly inebriated St. Nick, Daniel E. Aulwes, claiming negligence and negligent battery for the Dec. 7, 2008, incident outside the restaurant in the 1000 block of West Monroe Street.

Basso was standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant when Aulwes "under the influence of alcohol to a certain degree and ... unable to walk in a safe manner" fell on top of her.

She hit her face on the sidewalk, suffering "pain ... disability and disfigurement," according to the Cook County circuit court lawsuit. She is seeking more than $50,000 in damages.

* * * * *

Now, I always thought that such blatantly frivolous lawsuits were the exclusive domain of the citizens of California. It would appear not. I can just hear this cheesy lady's testimony...sung to the immortal strains of that equally cheesy Xmas classic, 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer':

"My face got disfigured by drunk Santa,
outside of a restaurant -- December Eighth.
A bourbon-pickled, jolly dressed-up Santa,
the drunkard’s actions really sealed his fate.

The bastard’s going to pay for his wrong deeds now,
My lawyer says he’ll pay me -- through the nose.
We’ll take as much as judge and jury will allow,
We’ll take his home, his car and his Santa clothes.”

I know, I know...I've missed my true calling. And I could have gone one stanza better, but that would have invariably necessitated the use of the plaintiff's name, "Basso" and a common slang for your backside.

Enjoy your weekend!

Do You Feel Like I Do?

2009-02-20T08:29:00.000-08:00

But for the fact that I can't sing, I can't play guitar, and I basically don't have much in the way of musical talent, I could have been a contender!

My Latest Book Report.

2009-02-20T08:26:00.000-08:00

"Dry and acerbic, with a bitter finish.

Read twice with same results.
72 Points."

I'm Searchin'...I'm Searchin'...Searchin' Every Wiiiiiich Way.*

2009-02-19T08:57:00.000-08:00

The past few months has found me - for the first time in my life - utilizing head hunting services and internet job search engines. I've completed dozens of questionnaires, emailed my resume nearly a thousand times, and have applied to over 150 corporations around the U.S. It's a full-time job look for a full-time job. Sadly, there's no money in it.

Occasionally I'll get a job lead from a headhunter which leaves me thinking "WTF? Did he even read my resume?!" One such position just came across my desk:

VP of Business Development for a Leading Provider of Outpatient Wound Care Providers.

Now, the job does pay over $120,000 per annum, but really...where in my resume would it lead an executive search agency to feel that this job is right up my alley? Of course, I already thought up a (pardon the pun) sure fire way to develop new business for this potential employer: get in my company car and circle the clinics, performing a series of drive-by shootings. Hey...they're all going to need wound care, right?

Just an idea. Maybe I could work it into my first interview with them?
____________________________________________________________________
And, if the title of today's blog doesn't sound familiar to you, then you're obviously not a Beach Music aficionado: it's from "Searchin'" by The Coasters.

The Things We Do For Love.

2009-02-14T10:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday started at 5am. My wife and I rose a bit earlier than normal to prepare items for our two sons' classroom Valentine's Day parties. Amie was in charge of preparations...which meant I was her personal, private, executive gofer. She baked while I prepared printed materials. The kids rose a few hours later, and - just as we were preparing to head out to the car - it began to hail. Perfect timing.

But the early rising, frantic working and hail dodging all seemed worth it when I got to watch our Thomas waltzing:
The things we do for our children...and they are more than worth it!

Space: The Trashed Frontier.

2009-02-12T09:32:00.001-08:00

On any given day, the U.S. Strategic Command is tracking some 18,000 man-made objects that orbit our planet. These objects include spent booster rockets, satellites and the odd, 'misplaced' wrench, camera and other objects lost by clumsy astronauts. Combined, all of this astro-junk is estimated to weigh more than 11 million pounds. Since most of these objects travel at hypersonic speeds, the threat of one of them hitting a valuable national asset is a very real one.

That said, most men and women of science have dismissed the potential for collision so minuscule as to not be worthy of concern. When I hear such remarks I can't help be be reminded of the mindset of scientists who scoffed at concerns that we were polluting our watersheds and the air we breathe. Just like outer space, these earth-bound environments were thought to be too big for man to cause any real damage.

Well, two days ago the inevitable happened: two satellites - one American and the other Russian - collided in space. The resulting debris cloud has caused concern that fragments from the collision might impact the International Space Station. Major Regina Winchester, of the U.S. Strategic Command, commented that "Space is getting pretty crowded. The fact that this hasn't happened before -- maybe we were getting a little bit lucky."

No duh...you think?

They're On The Road to Nowhere.

2009-02-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

Having closed down my winery last November, I find myself in the rare position of being between jobs. I say 'rare' because I've not been without gainful employment since I was 15 years old. Okay, so I did take a month off between jobs back in 1998...but it was a month off with pay, covered by my new employer. And during that month off I contracted a nasty sinus infection. It now being mid-February, I have now gone an unprecedented 73 consecutive days without working. But the trade-off has been great in terms of my family life, and the house has never been so clean.

But it's high time I reenter the workaday world, and I'm now actively searching for just the right position. To be sure, many offers have come my way, but almost all of them require way too much travel. Those that don't require my living out of a suitcase offer salaries so minuscule that accepting the position would lead to my family and I to live in a trailer park. While the current economic situation might dictate my jumping at any job offer, I'm going to hold out for something better.

There's one thing this job search has reinforced: my belief that the U.S. wine industry is incredibly short-sighted. When word got out that I had pulled the plug on the winery, I was inundated with calls, emails and letters from industry folks all over the world. Most of these expressed surprise, sadness or congratulations...sometimes all three. Some also included possibilities of future employment. Of these, about a dozen were from businesses concerns offering positions that I felt were worth pursuing.
In subsequent conversations with these employers I've learned that all of them have decided to hold off filling these positions. They took one look at their 2008 4th quarter results, and felt it prudent to not hire anyone. And these are senior management positions like general manager, sales manager, etc. In other words, sales were bad for these folks, but they're not going to hire the one key manager who can/should improve their sales! I find myself wanting to say, "You think sales suck now? Just wait. You've made a decision that's sure to put your company on course that will lead to even lower sales". It's the Titanic without the band.

Such a mindset is kinda like saying you own a Porsche, but are only going to spend money on putting gas in the tank. No tune-ups, no oil changes, no rotating tires...nothing but gas. In the long run, this kind of thinking ends up costing more money in repairs (or replacement) than the periodic maintenance would have. Enormously short-sighted. But, hey, that's the industry I've been in most of my adult life.

To be sure, there are those out there that see this economic crisis as a great opportunity...an opportunity to pick up market share, equipment, land, and - yes - talent. These are the types of companies I'm aiming for. My only hope that I can stay out of the trailer park long enough to land one.

AND THIS LITTLE PIGGY CUT "WEEEEE" ALL THE WAY THROUGH.

2009-02-08T15:36:00.001-08:00

Don't Make Me Open This!

2009-02-07T13:35:00.001-08:00

Failure to Launch.

2009-02-06T07:33:00.000-08:00

In hopes of emulating the success of his older brother Harlan, young Pleghm Sanders poured his life savings into an ill-conceived chain of fast food restaurants. It is rumored that he was carted off to prison screaming, "Why is it my fault those customers got Tricky Noses?!"

Pleghm Sanders died in prison a broken man...

Paparazzi Paydirt!

2009-02-05T13:09:00.000-08:00

At long last! Here's photographic evidence of the long-suspected-but-never-confirmed love child between Ernest Borgnine and Totie Fields!

Words Escape Me.

2009-02-04T11:45:00.000-08:00

Anyone know the story behind Michael and his chicken-costumed 'special friend'? Anyone care to admit they know the story? Anyone?

A Harvest of Shame.

2009-02-02T10:52:00.000-08:00

For decades I have suffered under the misconception that the Coca-Cola Company has been perpetrating a hoax upon the American consumer. Sprite, their popular, citrus-flavored answer to 7-Up is - if you are to believe their commercials - produced from a fruit known as the Lymon. Half lemon, half lime, the Lymon can rightfully lay claim to being the first genetically-modified food product to be mass-produced...and mass-consumed.

I have thought the Lymon to be a PR device, 'invented' by the Coca-Cola Company as a catchy little devise to hawk their carbonated wares. It now appears that I was sorely mistaken...

...the Lymon does exist.

This weekend, my son Thomas presented me with this piece of fruit, harvested from our own yard:

It looks like that's a lime emerging from this lemon! I'm thinking I can propagate this fruit and plant hundreds - perhaps even thousands - of Lymon trees. Then I can score a fairly lucrative deal with Coca-Cola to become a major fruit supplier. And, if not Coca-Cola, then I'll offer my harvest to PepsiCo.

So the Lymon does exist after all. It's either admit that, or the fact that we're living far too close to the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant for comfort*.

____________________________________________________________________
*In actuality, we live about 14 miles from this plant...and it's never caused me an ounce of concern.

Channeling My Inner James Lipton.

2009-01-29T17:37:00.001-08:00

1. What is your favorite word?
Jamesliptonwaskilledtoday.

2. What is your least favorite word?
Justkidding.

3. What turns you on?
The startled, absolutely panicked look of James Lipton's face as his hands try to gain purchase on the hood ornament of my car, only to realize that his right foot is being crushed beneath my left front Continental tire as I accelerate.

4. What turns you off?
Pretentious weenies like James Lipton.

5. What is your favorite curse word?
“jameslipton!”

6. What sound or noise do you love?
The gurgled last breaths from James Lipton as I slowly choke him into a irreversible coma.

7. What sound or noise do you hate?
The self-absorbed, self-important sound of James Lipton's voice as he interviews an equally vacuous 'star'.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Outrageously-compensated, and presidentailly-pardoned assassin of James Lipton.

9. What profession would you not like to attempt?
Personal, private, executive secretary to, and sycophantic gay lover of, James Lipton.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
James Lipton? No, James Lipton is down there...

SLO Fish Wrapper Fish Tale.

2009-01-29T11:03:00.000-08:00

This just in to the San Luis Obispo Tribune: appears a homeless man was caught in the act of preparing a fish for a meal for himself and other vagrants along the banks of the San Luis Obispo Creek. The meal consisted of a loaf of bread, some lemons and a very large trout. A large trout that this homeless man caught for their meal. A large Steelhead Trout.

Steelhead Trout are a federally protected, endangered species. I'm doubtful that this homeless man took that into account when, feeling both peckish and industrious, he dropped his line into the water. In return for such lawlessness, the man was taken into custody and sentenced to 10 days in jail. The trout, already dead, already grilled, was disposed of, uneaten. What you see to the left is all that remained at the scene of this crime.

Now, I'm all for protecting endangered species. But I suspect that - in this day in time - we're going to see enough similar acts of desperation to fill a new novel or two*. What I find sad is the lack of thinking the who incident through. The guy is homeless, so 10 days in the hoosegow is probably a welcome thing for him. Wouldn't it have been better to inform him of his infraction, release him with a sentence of 10 days community service? Sure would have taught him the necessary lesson, lessened the taxpayer burdens and costs that come with incarceration, and provided some necessary service to the community to boot. Way to think it through, guys!

All this reminds me of what a good thing it is that I gave up hunting and eating California Condor. Sure, the sport was fun, but the meat is too gamey. Just like Bald Eagle.
____________________________________________________________________
*And just where is William Faulkner when you need him? Dead. And uneaten. Just like that Steelhead Trout.

Use Facebook? Like Rhône Wines?

2009-01-25T08:21:00.000-08:00

THE RHÔNEAGADES ARE COMING!
THE RHÔNEAGADES ARE COMING!

I've recently become a convert to Facebook. In the two weeks that I've been an active member, I've reconnected with high school friends, college fraternity brothers and folks I've met through the wine industry. Never being one to idly sit on the sidelines, I've started up an informal group of like-minded wine lovers called, The Rhôneagades.

The Rhôneagades is open to all Facebook users who have a passion for Rhône and Rhône-inspired wines. It's my hope that members will share tasting notes, wine-related travel stories and photos, and anything else that seems appropriate to the subject at hand.

If you're a Facebook user, I invite you to join us!

Question #1: Why Do They Call it "Dope"?

2009-01-24T14:08:00.000-08:00

Things sure have changed since I last applied for a job. Just today I was instructed to complete an on-line questionnaire for a potential employer. Of the fifty questions asked, 18% of them concerned drug use. Don't believe me? Well, my friend, here they are...straight off the questionnaire:

3) How often do you use recreational drugs (street drugs) other than marijuana (pot, grass)?

1 : Daily

2 : Weekly

3 : Monthly

4 : Seldom or Never

8) When do you use marijuana (pot, grass)?

1 : While at work or school

2 : Only on my own time

3 : Very Rarely

4 : Never

16) Excluding medicine you got from a doctor, which of the following drugs do you use? You may enter more than 1 answer for this question.

1 : Psilocybin, DOM, STP, MDA

2 : Ecstasy, Crank, Crystal, Ice

3 : Tranks, Downers, Barbs

4 : None

19) Excluding medicine you got from a doctor, which of the following drugs do you use? You may enter more than 1 answer for this question.

1 : Hashish, Hash, THC

2 : Glue, Poppers, Ether, Inhalants

3 : PCP, Angel Dust

4 : None

22) Excluding medicine you got from a doctor, which of the following drugs do you use? You may enter more than 1 answer for this question.

1 : Cocaine, Coke, Snow, Crack

2 : LSD, Acid, Mescaline, Peyote

3 : Heroin, Opium

4 : None

25) Excluding medicine you got from a doctor, which of the following drugs do you use? You may enter more than 1 answer for this question.

1 : Morphine, Methadone

2 : Speed, Meth, Bennies, Dex

3 : Valium, Quaaludes (Ludes)

4 : None

29) How often do you come to work under the influence of alcohol or drugs?

1 : Always

2 : Frequently

3 : Occasionally

4 : Seldom or Never

31) How often does your use of recreational drugs (street drugs) interfere with your work?

1 : Always

2 : Frequently

3 : Occasionally

4 : Never or Don't Use

35) When do you drink alcohol?

1 : While working on the job

2 : While driving

3 : Just before coming to work

4 : None of the above categories or Never

As for the other 82% of the questionnaire? Most of the questions asked - in some manner or another - if I were the type of person who settled arguments through fist fights. Uh-huh. I felt like answering that I did enjoy punching someone in the face, but only if they stole my stash.

Is the average American working stiff showning such a propensity for drugs and violence that it's now necessary to utilize nearly 50% of a pre-employment questionnaire to screen them out? And is the average American working stiff so whacked out on goofballs that they get caught answering in the positive to these questionnaires?? Or is it that I am applying for a job with the wrong type of employer?

Interesting questions...and ones that I'd like to find the answers to. Sadly I don't have the time. I've got to go score some airplane glue before I head into work.

A Bad Idea From Bake-o.

2009-01-23T14:06:00.000-08:00

Amie and I were driving around in the rain and drizzle today. While we were at a stoplight I noticed a license plate frame on the truck in front of me. It read, "Three Way - Bakersfield". I pointed it out to Amie, and mentioned, "That must be what they do for fun out in Bakersfield". Turns out it's the name of a dealership.

Now, anytime I've gone near a car dealership, I knew I was going to get screwed. But do they have to make that fact so blatant? And, does it have to include a third party?

Talk about your unfortunate branding. Who in the company thought this name was a good idea? As I'm always wearing my sales/marketing hat, it immediately got me thinking of a whole sales pitch:

"Three-Way: Where We Don't Leave Out the Middle Man."

- or -

"Three-Way: Where YOU'RE the Middle Man!"

I think this pitch has got legs. At least six of them...

Welcome to Hooterville.

2009-01-23T09:21:00.000-08:00

Occasionally I am reminded that I live in a small town. The front page of this morning's paper provided me with one such reminder. What's the big news? That, at 1pm today, an Alaska Air Boeing 737 is going to land at the San Luis Obispo airport.

With less than one cup of coffee in my system, I must say that I was impressed as I read this article. I also must say that, in my state of semi-consciousness, I thought the paper read that a Boeing 747 was scheduled to land here. Now that would have been an impressive sight. Having been around airplanes my whole life, I envisioned the idea of a 747 landing at our local airport in my head, and thought, "Landing? Maybe. Takeoff? No way." This would definitely be a spectacle worth witnessing first-hand.

What a difference a cup of coffee made.

Sure, a 737 is a nice plane...and it's slightly bigger than the craft you usually see here. But not by a whole lot. Not worth making a trip out to the airport...and definitely not front page news.

Unless you live in San Luis Obispo.

Cast Away.

2009-01-22T08:08:00.000-08:00

It's amazing what washes up on our local beaches. They found this just yesterday at Pismo Beach. Do you throw it back in, or what?

The Potential Downside of Change.

2009-01-21T10:27:00.000-08:00

While I am all for a new presidential administration, I can't help but wonder: will political satire begin to suffer as a result? Will we soon see Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Louis Black and Keith Olberman applying en masse for their share of the corporate bailout funds?

Can't help but wonder...

Jonesing for 'Cue.

2009-01-20T07:03:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been getting some powerful hunger pangs for some good Georgia Barbecue. And when I'm feeling this way, there's only one place that can truly satisfy my belly: Old South Barbecue in Smyrna, Georgia.

Most people, if they even know about Smyrna, know it as the birthplace of Julia Roberts. There are those of us who know better: this is the town the Llewallyns made famous. This gracious family has been serving up great pig meat since 1968, and I've been eating there since 1978.

Old South is my gastronomic touchstone, and - since I moved to California over 15 years ago - I make it a point to stop in for lunch or dinner at least once on each return home. As I don't get to eat there on a regular basis anymore, I tend to - pardon the pun - pig out. A typical meal starts out with a BBQ pork salad, large plate of lettuce that's loaded with shredded pork and dressed with blue cheese dressing. It's a meal in itself. Then there's a cup of Brunswick stew. Now I'll admit I prefer my stew to their's, but their stew is pretty darn good. Then, for my main course, it's a hearty platter of ribs, with cole slaw and hush puppies on the side. And, of course, there's gallons of sweet tea to accompany the meal.

But...what can I do to quell my Old South addiction when - like now - I'm in California and I've no plans to fly back to Georgia? Sadly, the Llewallyns aren't set up to pack up and overnight their food. Like all good Southerners, I must rely on the kindness of friends, and not, as Blanche DuBois did, on strangers. They go pick it up, pack it in dry ice, and ship it overnight to me.

So..do you want to be my friend? Hmmm? I'll even give you my FedEx account number!

Shaving Face.

2009-01-19T13:42:00.000-08:00

Of all my morning ablutions, there's none I detest more than shaving my face. I've never really understood the logic to dragging a razor blade across your skin moments after awakening. The fear of spending the rest of the day displaying bits of torn skin and dried blood has been enough to keep me firmly in the camp of those who prefer to be evening shavers. Better yet, I prefer going for days without shaving my face.

I have what is known in dermatological parlance as very sensitive skin...what the French refer to as 'peau sensible'. This is a combination of the words, peau, pronounced like "po" and sensible, like..."sensible", meaning, "You'd have really poor sensibilities to shave that every morning, monsieur".

I've tried everything. Electric razors really don't provide a close shave. I've really enjoyed the results from, and experiences of, trained barbers who have shaved me with an old-fashioned, 'cut-throat' straight razor (the finest such experience having taken place in a throwback barber joint across the street from the Hotel Moteleone, New Orleans). But, I would never think of doing that to myself.

Since 1990 my shaving device of choice has been the Gillette Sensor. It's your basic, two bladed, swivel head razor, a system Gillette introduced in 1989 with that catchy phrase and jingle, "A best a man can get". And, for 19 years now, I've been a staunch believer in that.

And shaving technology has passed my face by long ago. These days there are three-, four- and even five-blade shavers, no doubt playing up to modern man's belief that bigger is always better.

I've tried out a few of those three-bladed shavers, just to see if I'm missing out on a better shave. Maybe I am missing something, but to me it felt like I was trying to shave with a blade as big as a business card. They're unwieldy, and difficult to operate in tight areas like around the nose, or when cleaning up your sideburns. So, I'm sticking with my two-bladed Sensor, thank you very much.

But everyone's still trying to build that 'better mousetrap' of a razor. Today I came across an ad for the next greatest shaving sensation, the Rolling Razor. Looking for all the world like souped-up fallopian tubes, the Rolling Razor features two razors facing opposite directions. As if half-awake men and women really need twice the opportunity to cut the crap out of their faces or legs.

From what I've seen in their promotional materials, you hold the Rolling Razor much like we used to hold the tear-away pop top tabs from soda and beer cans. And I'm imagining that this sucker shaves you about as well as an aluminium pull-tab, too.

And just dig the sales copy for the men's "Silver Streak" razor!:

"It is said, that Zeus himself stood upon Mt. Olympus and cast his lightning bolt towards Earth. Upon impact, there was an massive explosion that revealed a fiery arc of light...that arc of light was Silver Streak. From that day forward, shaving became a powerful masculine experience underscored by true performance characteristics, indisputable strength, unparallelled accuracy and lightning quick speed."

Where do I begin with my criticism of this paragraph o' drivel? That they buried the lead? That they lost me at "Zeus"? That they forgot the prime directive of marketing...mention the product in the first five words? That you shouldn't let your teenager write ad copy? And this is just the verbiage for the men's shaver. They make one for women, called the "2 Pink", and the blah-blah for it is just as bad:

"Sent by Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty, 2 Pink was able to greet the feminine curves of a woman with sensuality and reverence, while using the sharpness of Cupid's arrow to prevent nick and scratches. Love at first sight, 2 Pink has been described as an experience of pure beauty."

And how do I describe the experience of reading that? I suspect a frustrated Greek ad copy writer needs a refund on their "Learn to write Romance Novels" correspondence course.

Eeeew.

Wining and Dining...White House-Style.

2009-01-18T15:13:00.000-08:00

'Round these parts everyone is getting excited about the pending inauguration. It seems highly fitting that Barack Obama will be sworn in as our nation's president the day after this nation celebrates the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It's a good sign.

In the wine business, much has been made of the wines to be served at the inauguration luncheon. Turns out all three courses will be paired with three different wines...produced from wineries of which I have had some dealings with.

The first two wines - the 2007 Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc and the 2005 Goldeneye Pinot Noir - are both produced by the same company (albeit different wineries and fruit sources), Duckhorn. Over the past three years I've gotten to know the Duckhorn folks well. We'd dine together at my winery during the Hospice du Rhône weekend, and we'd occasionally see each other across the U.S. on business. The wife of Jeff Roberts, Duckhorn's VP of Vineyard Operations, became such a fan of my wines that they became members of our wine club. Turned out that Pete Przybylinski, Duckhorn's VP of Sales and Strategy, and I have a Georgia heritage in common. Not only did Pete attend the University of Georgia (where he graduated from the Terry College of Business), but we both attended the same Atlanta-area high school, Crestwood. Pete was six or seven years behind me, though. The Duckhorn team are all great folks. Proof positive that good wine really does make it a small world.

The final wine to be served at the inaugural luncheon is a sparkling wine from Korbel. I had the opportunity to dine with Korbel's owner, Gary Heck, about 13 years ago. That evening still ranks as one of the most uncomfortable meals I've ever had.

I was single at the time, still having not had met Amie, the lady who would become my wife. I received a call from a buddy of mine in Atlanta, Jim Favret. Jim and I have known each other for decades, having both worked in the wine business there. Jim called to ask if I'd be willing to be a blind date for an acquaintance of his. It appears this lady was in need of a date to her company's holiday party. She worked for one of the other wineries owned by Gary Heck. "There's a few cases of great wine in it for you if you say 'yes'" Jim explained. I called this young lady and offered my services as her date...after all, 24 bottles of wine and a night on the town seemed a whole lot more fun that sitting around Paso Robles for the weekend.

Before I made the trip up to Sonoma County, my blind date had called to ask if I owned a tuxedo. "Of course," I replied, "but do the employees really dress up that much for this party?" Every other winery holiday party I'd ever been to were pretty informal affairs. She convinced me that everyone was going to dress up in their finest, and pleaded with me to pick her up wearing my tux. Imagine my surprise when we showed up to the dinner and more than half the attendees were in jeans, caps and cowboy boots! Even ol' Gary Heck himself was dressed up in a modest, two-piece suit. I tell ya...I would have felt less uncomfortable if I was wearing a wine barrel. I gave my date a weak smile, and thought to myself, "at least it can't get any more uncomfortable for me." Of course, I was wrong.

As the call to dinner was made, my date shoehorned us into the table at which Heck and his wife were sitting. He smiled, and introduced himself with a look that had "you don't belong here, son" all over it. I tried to return a smile which said, "Don't I know it, pops". As everyone was seated, Heck stood up and delivered the obligatory rousing company CEO speech that I knew was coming. In this end-of-year pep talk to his troops, Heck said words to the effect that in the coming year that their wine company was going to crush the competition and leave them all in the dust. That speech only served to compound our mutual discomfort when - during dinner table small talk - he asked what I did for a living. And it didn't help that he recalled reading about me in a recent wine industry publication.

Needless to say, I was never invited back to any of their soirées.

Over the course of the last decade I've had the great fortune of spending time at the White House. A friend of mine serves as one of the Ushers assigned to the residence. Going there - especially post-911 - is a rare treat...a real Frank Capra-esque type of moment.

That's me with Amie and our mothers on the front walkway leading up to what those who work there refer to as the Executive Residence. On my last time to the White House, I was able to bring them (and my father, who was busy snapping this photo) with me, and we had and enjoyable few hours inspecting the grounds and most of the Residence. One of the highlights of the trip was watching my mother-in-law, Mary, frolic with the Bush's two dogs on the lawn...right underneath the windows of the private residence. Sadly, a few months later, Mary lost her 18-month struggle with cancer. Being able to share that moment with her remains a very special memory for Amie and me.

Every time I've exited the gates of this amazing home I am struck with the thought that only in America could a humble businessman like myself be welcomed into a place so important as this. It's an amazing thing, and regardless of where you find yourself on the political spectrum, you've got to admit that it's pretty cool knowing that something like that must happen all the time.

Through my friend the Usher I learned an interesting piece of White House trivia which I'll share with you. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of a State Dinner, right? They're very formal affairs at which the President and a visiting dignitary walk in, offer each other a toast, and enjoy a four-course meal paired with wines. Simple enough, right? Well, how long do you think the average State Dinner takes? From the time the President and his guest walk in, to the time he and his guests adjourn from the dining room? Two hours? Four? Five?

Nope. Fifty-five minutes. That's right...less than an hour. As my friend explained to me, "You're not their to eat." True enough, I reckon.

Wherever dinner table you happen to be sitting at this Tuesday, I ask you to raise a glass of something tasty and say a prayer of thanks. Thanks that no matter how bad things seem to be right now, we Americans really have got it good. I know I will...and I'll damn sure be spending more than 55 minutes enjoying myself.

Hot Off The Presses!

2009-01-18T12:01:00.001-08:00

Johnny Vardeman's latest column in The Gainesville Times just came out today. Care to guess what it was about? That's right: The Poultry Bowl!

READ ABOUT IT BY CLICKING HERE.

Thanks, Johnny!

Playing Chicken: An Update.

2009-01-15T22:07:00.000-08:00

Last month I posted (here) about my learning of a long-passed, failed college football bowl: The Poultry Bowl. In my post, I had asked that anyone with any information on this bowl series - a series consisting of only two games - please get in touch with me. I am pleased to report that some light has been shed on this subject.

I recently heard from Johnny Vardeman. Johnny is an institution of newspaper journalism in North Georgia. He's been a columnist for The Gainesville Times for quite some time...and when I lived there I would read him regularly. Johnny's first email to me mentioned that even while he had vague recollections of The Poultry Bowl, he was willing to do a little research. Last week he sent me the following email:

"Mat, The Poultry Bowl was played Dec. 8, 1973, at Gainesville's City Park. Stephen F. Austin vs. Gardner-Webb, GW won 31-10. About 1,000 people attended. It was a cold rain before game, so attendance was off, but probably wouldn't have drawn many anyway. Promoters were Bill and Bobby Smallwood."

So, there's that. No word yet on the 1974 Poultry Bowl...the final Poultry Bowl ever. When I know more, you'll no more. And if any of you have more info - or photos - I'd love to hear from you, too.

Thanks, Johnny!

Gettin' my MN on.

2009-01-15T18:30:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in my last entry, Amie's father, Doug, recently spent some time with us. And, when I say, "some time", I mean three months. Yes, you read correctly. Three months. Despite what you might be thinking, all-in-all, his visit was very nice. I had a buddy pretty much through the last half of college football season. Even though Doug pulls for the Big 10 (which, if you're a regular on this blog, you know is really the Big 11. Idiots), he's pretty fair company when a game is on.

Anyway, having Doug here for so long (so long...) meant that we felt obliged to accommodate his gustatory peculiarities. So it was that throughout his visit our pantry was stocked with Velveeta, smoked sausage links, Hickory Farms' summer sausage and Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup.

And, if you're wondering, no, we had no lutefisk (but you can read about lutefisk here).

Now that he's returned to the Great White North, we've been trying to use up these leftover staples. This evening, a culinary truth was made evident to me. Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup is the Midwestern equivalent of the South's penchant for okra. Both products are defining staples - binding polymers, if you will - of the fabric of their region's heritage.

If you see, smell or taste okra in a dish, you know you're eating Southern. It recalls an African heritage, and is the backbone of all good stews, gumbos and the like. Similarly, Cream of Mushroom Soup recalls Nordic ice fisherman, chugging down Grain Belt beer, and heating up something in time for the Gophers/Vikings/Twins/Timberwolves regular weekly loss to whomever they are playing.

Tonight we prepared a tuna noodle hot dish. Real comfort food. Too bad the temperature here in San Luis Obispo was in the low high 70s. How I miss winter!

Mayonnaise Helper.

2009-01-13T23:41:00.000-08:00

Miracle Whip.

Is there a fouler condiment stocked on the average American grocery store shelf? I don't think so. I remember the first time I tasted it: I spit it out. It made me think, "So, this is how mayonnaise tastes when it goes bad." I gave it a few tries since that day, and the result is still the same. The only miracle I can see in this crap is that people actually buy it. And like it.

Miracle Whip was born out of necessity...during the Great Depression. Seems that mayo was a tad bit expensive, and a Salem, Illinois-based restaurateur got the bright idea to cut mayonnaise with salad dressing. Think of it as Hamburger Helper for mayo, and you get the idea. In 1931, sensing a good thing (and a great profit), the folks at Kraft paid the developer $300 for his recipe. Two years later, at the 1933 Chicago World's Fair, Kraft debuted their newly-won condiment to the world. And, hard as it is for me to believe, the world raved about it.

Yuck!

Now don't get me wrong. I'm a big-time mayonnaise fan. I like it with my french fries, occasionally with my burger, and it forms one third of the holy trinity that is pimento cheese. Think you don't like pimento cheese? You've never tasted real, Southern pimento cheese. But adding salad dressing to your mayonnaise?! There's something slightly sacrilegious about that if you ask me. America is doing all it can to keep out of another Great Depression. We don't need this reminder of just how bad it may actually get.

So, why am I ranting about Miracle Whip? Last Friday, Amie's dad flew back to Minneapolis after a visit with us. He loves Miracle Whip. I was grabbing some water out of the refrigerator last night when I noticed the barely-utilized jar of this stuff. "Do you want me to keep this?" I asked Amie. She got a sour face and shook her head 'no'.

I tossed the jar into the recycling bin. I'm so pleased Amie shares my disdain for this pseudo condiment. It made me realize just how much I love my wife.

Heart-Stopping Junk Food Moment.

2009-01-13T19:23:00.000-08:00

I proudly will admit that I am not overly-fond of junk foods. If you catch me wolfing down nachos, there's a 90% certainty that there's a ball game on*. On the other hand, if there's popcorn nearby, I'm either in a cinema or watching a movie from the comfort of my family room. Do I drink Coke? Sure, if there's Bourbon in it...other than that I really have to be in the mood. And you'll rarely - if ever - find me jonesing for a candy bar. I just don't have a sweet tooth**.

And when it comes to that quintessential junk food - the potato chip - there's only one brand that gets my motor purring: Jays. If there's a bag of Jays within arms reach of me, rest assured it's soon gonna be an empty bag. My addiction to Jays potato chips makes Amy Winehouse's addiction to meth look positively Pat Boone-ish.
If you're not familiar with Jays, one thing is for certain: you're not from the Midwest. Founded in Chicago in 1927 by a one Leonard Japp, Sr., Jays - or Japp's as they were known then - quickly rose to regional prominence. In 1941 the brand changed names to "Jays" for obvious reasons***. I have fond memories of devouring bags of their original potato chip when I would visit my grandmother who lived in downtown Chicago, right on Michigan Avenue overlooking Grant Park and Lake Michigan. Great memories, those.

Sadly, Jays never made it national. So when I'd make regular trips back to the Midwest to sell my wine, I always made at least one meal out of a big bag...and brought more home to savor.

Now that I've shared with you my addiction for Jays Original Potato Chips, then perhaps you'll have a better idea as to why my heart skipped a beat last Sunday while grocery shopping. There, stacked on an aisle-end display were scores of brown boxes with the familiar blue Jays logo! I thought to myself two things: "It COULDN'T be...could it?" and "I wonder how much money I've got in my checking account...and is it enough to by every bag this store has?"

Sadly, my passions were short-lived****. As you can see, the boxes were filled with other products, not Jays. And when asked if they could get Jays, the store manager looked at me like I was a man possessed. I was...but in a good way.

So, do a disposessed potato chip junkie a favor? If you see a bag of Jays Original Potato Chips, ship it my way, would ya?

I'm starting to get the shakes real bad.
____________________________________________________________________
*As for the other 10% of the time? I'm more than likely drunk.

**Much to my son Jack's dismay. When I once asked him to show me his sweet tooth, he opened his mouth, pointed to one tooth, then quickly moved his finger away and said, "Actually, dad, they're all sweet tooths."

***Although I could see the possibilities of turning this wartime liability into a sales asset. They could have started a campaign that would have donated 1% of sales into the purchase of War Bonds. Think of the ad campaign: "Eat a Japp and Win the War!" Hmmm. Maybe that's why I'm still looking for a job?

****Like my checking account.

Et Tu, Asher?

2009-01-13T14:11:00.001-08:00

UGA Cornereback Asher Allen just announced that he won't return to finish up his Senior year with the Dawgs. He's entering the 2009 NFL draft.

Damn. I need a bourbon...

Joe the Jackass.

2009-01-12T18:57:00.001-08:00

Here we are, slovenly slouching towards the 2012, the year also known as Nostradamus' 'game over' year. There's been plenty of hype all over the internet, on television and in print about what we can expect in three years, all of it dire. Some pundits point to certain signs as proof positive that civilization is playing out its curtain call.

I for one saw the writing on the wall as soon as The Cookie Monster was forced to change his name to The Veggie Monster.

As if to lend more credence to the doom-sayers, an on-line news service has seen fit to give Samuel J. Wurzelbacher - aka 'Joe the Plumber' - an extension on his already-overdrawn 15 minutes by tapping him as a cub reporter. His assignment? Covering the Gaza Strip. As if the area hasn't suffered enough.

Every time I see this bafoon I laugh. His story epitomizes the quote, "a tale told by a fool, full of sound and fury, signifying...nothing". Upon accepting his charge, Sammy was asked why he felt he needed to go to Gaza. He responded to the effect that television reporters weren't covering the real issues, and that he had a better plan. Seconds later, when he was asked how he was preparing for his trip, he proudly stated that he was watching all the TV reports he could.

Uh-huh. I'm thinking Sam/Joe is the result of swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool. And I don't think that I'll bother with the tale this fool will tell...

Busted Outta the Joint!

2009-01-11T07:34:00.000-08:00

NEW YORK (CNN) -- A giant lobster named George escaped a dinner-table fate and was released Saturday into the Atlantic Ocean after a New York seafood restaurant granted him his freedom, according to a statement from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

George the lobster was a "sort of mascot" for City Crab and Seafood in New York.

The lobster, which PETA said was 140 years old and weighed 20 pounds, had been confined to a tank at City Crab and Seafood restaurant in Manhattan when two customers alerted the animal group.

The PETA statement did not say how the extraordinary age estimate was determined, but restaurant manager Keith Valenti told CNN that lobsters can grow a pound every seven to 10 years, and he put George's weight at 18 to 20 pounds.

"I've been here for 12 years, and that's the biggest lobster I've ever seen," Valenti said.

He said the lobster had been "sitting in the restaurant's tank and acting as a sort of mascot," but when PETA got involved and requested the release, it "seemed like the right thing to do."

____________________________________________________________________

And I'm betting that, shortly after his humane release back into the Atlantic Ocean, George the (nearly) Sesquicentennial Lobster met Sammy the Harbor Seal and became Sammy's much-appreciated dinner!

C'mon, PETA...have you got nothing better to do?

It takes a lobster seven years to grow to one pound, and the lobster tanks at most fine-dining establishments boast lobsters in excess of two to five pounds. Are these lobsters not as worthy of saving? Besides, at nearly 150 years old, I think George has led a long and fruitful life. His wife, kids and friends are probably all long gone. Can you think of a better candidate for lobster euthanasia?

His death at the hands of City Crab and Seafood would have been quick and (relatively) humane, and he would have provided sustenance for a family of four. Or one fat AIG exec on another expense account binge. Instead, George was unceremoniously dropped into the cold sea, in strange surroundings, and was bitten in half by a seal, or some other such predator.

The horror. The horror.

SEC, Baby!

2009-01-08T21:23:00.001-08:00

As if to give answer to the question, "Is there a finer conference in all of college football than the SEC?", the Florida Gators just won the Orange Bowl, clinching the national championship. That's the third year in a row - and fourth year in this decade (so far) - that an SEC team has earned top honors.

And I'm betting an SEC team will be crowned national champions next year. I bet you can guess who!

GO DAWGS!

My Two Newest, Bestest Friends.

2009-01-08T08:53:00.000-08:00

Have I told you how much I love Joe Cox and Caleb King?

Gone, Baby, Gone.

2009-01-07T12:31:00.000-08:00

Here's a photo Thomas took of Knowshon and Matt just prior
to the start of the Georgia/Tennessee game last October.

Well, it's official. Less than an hour ago, Matthew Stafford and Knowshon Moreno held a press conference in Athens, Georgia, where they announced that they were both leaving UGA so as to be elligible for the NFL draft. They will be missed.

I'll always treasure the memories of watching these two light up the scoreboards...and how these two lit up a national passion for UGA Football. I love the fact that my kids got to see them play from the sidelines, and meet them a few times in the locker room.

Guys, I wish you both the best of luck in the big league...but wished that us fans would have gotten to watch you 'tween the hedges for one more season.

C'est la college football.

Houses of Unholies.

2009-01-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

Did you watch last night's Fiesta Bowl? Great game, huh? I was glad to see yet another Big 10 team go down in flames. When is the Big 10 gonna realize that passing the ball is a BIG part of playing the game?

Perhaps the strangest part of last night's game was the halftime entertainment. Now, for me, halftime is a good time to stretch your legs, grab a beverage and (should you have partaken in many other beverages prior to this one) make an on-site inspection of the stadium's plumbing. But, for those who enjoy watching the halftime entertainment provided at college football games (read: the parents of the poor mokes down on the field), last night's offering from the Texas Longhorn Marching Band was...weird.

The Longhorn Marching Band chose as their offering a musical tribute to Led Zepplin.

Uh-huh. Led Zepplin.

Now, I will admit, I've never been a big fan of Led Zepplin. And I can now attest that Led Zepplin's music doesn't sound better to me when it's performed on trombones, xylophones and tubas. And the accompanying visuals of forced smiling baton twirlers and chubby flag wavers doesn't help much, either.

Just what was their musical director thinking?! "Hey, kids, let's show your parents just how much money they're pissing away on your education!!"

Oh, well, at least the University of Texas upheld the motto of their hometown of Austin: Keep Austin Weird.

Weird. That it is.

Erin Go Flying.

2009-01-06T08:29:00.000-08:00

Seems a bunch of vacationing Irishmen recently boarded a Thomas Cook airliner in London Gatwick bound for Cuba. It would appear that all of them had an innate fear of flying...what else could explain the fact that, prior to the flight, all of the Irish lads decided to get butt-plowed?

Oh yeah, I forgot...they're Irish.

The merriment continued unabated on the flight down to Cuba, with the Irish passengers entertaining their seatmates with trying to open one of the emergency exits*, as well as the occasional punch to their face. Now that's in-flight entertainment...coming at you in 3-D! It would appear that they partied non-stop throughout their stay in Cuba. 17 of the Irish revelers were so drunk that they were denied boarding the return flight to Gatwick.

Talk about playing to your stereotype.

*And, before you fret about something like that ever happening on your flight, let me tell you: it's impossible to open an emergency exit - or any other door - on an airliner in flight. Well, a pressurized airliner, anyway.

A Capital Thought.

2009-01-02T14:53:00.000-08:00

My, but it was nice to see the Georgia Bulldogs win their bowl game. After a first half which could best be described as lackluster (and, for me, stress-inducing), the Dawgs got their train back on the rails for a 24 to 12 win over the Michigan State Spartans. And, for the first time in a long time, our defense looked fantastic.

Thank ya, lordy!

All in all it was a fairly good season for UGA. With some juggling of the top teams, they may just end up in the Top 10. We were the victims of a lot of injuries...and even more self-inflicted penalties. The off season will allow recuperation on the former, while the later I think was an indication (more than anything) of a young team. Next year we'll be better!

And I am hoping that - given the dashed hopes and missed opportunities this season bore witness to - Matt Stafford and Knowshon Moreno will stay put for one more year.

Pretty please, guys?

About a Game (or Two) of Chicken.

2008-12-31T15:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I took my son Thomas for a haircut. As I waited for him, I picked up a copy of ESPN Magazine, and casually turned the pages. This issue covered the histories of many of the upcoming college football bowl games. My attention was drawn to a sidebar wherein a few failed bowl series were mentioned. One in particular - "The Poultry Bowl" really caught my eye. It appears that there were exactly two Poultry Bowl games ever held: the inaugural one in 1973 and the last in '74. Both games were held in Gainesville, Georgia.

Now I happen to know Gainesville, Georgia fairly well. I lived there from 1988 until 1992...most of the time while living on a houseboat, but that's another story. Located about an hour northeast of Atlanta, and situated alongside Lake Sidney Lanier, the Gainesville I knew was a sleepy little burg soon to be the recipient of development growth akin to an out-of-whack thyroid condition. It was a lovely place...with (obviously) the lake, a quaint downtown square, and scores of beautiful Georgian homes, all saved from the match wielded by that drunk Yankee arsonist, General W.T. Sherman, but that's another story.

Just south of downtown is this monument (pictured above) to Gainesville's #1 industry: chicken processing. The monument is a bit underwhelming...a fairly tall column for a very small chicken statue. I always thought of it at the "Nelson's Column of The South", but that's another story. Gaineville bills itself as the "Chicken Capitol of the World", and, when the wind blows from the direction of any of the dozens of poultry plants on a hot afternoon, it's hard to argue...and that's not only due to the gag reflex induced by the accompanying stench.

I learned a bit about Gainesville's place in history while I lived there. I knew that it was the first town south of Baltimore to be outfitted with streetlights. I knew many residents who can still recall its total obliteration from a 1936 tornado. I myself even had the misfortune of being caught in a pretty bad tornado while living there, but that's another story. But, until yesterday, I had never heard tell of Gainesville's shot at college bowl fame and fortune.

In searching the internet, I found it all but impossible to find anything about the Poultry Bowl. I did find this photo of then-governor Jimmy Carter at a public affair in Gainesville at which he declared the day "Poultry Bowl Day".

I had gotten to know Jimmy Carter a bit back in the time I lived in Gaineville, as we shared a love of Atlanta Braves' baseball and Civil War/Confederate history, but that's another story.

I am amazed that I've yet to find any real evidence of the Poultry Bowls themselves. Where were the games held? What teams played? Who was responsible for conceiving of The Poultry Bowl, and what was responsible for its quick demise?

It remains a mystery to me...for now. I plan to do a little bit of Poultry Bowl research, and - should you have any information to pass along - I'd really appreciate hearing about it.

That will surely make for another story.

Trends That NEED to Go Away, Vol. 1

2008-12-30T10:00:00.000-08:00

As we head feet-first into 2009, it's only natural to take a look back in remembrance to the last 365 days. Soon our televisions, radios, internet and print media will be chock-full of tributes to those famous individuals who passed on, those wacky trends we endured, and the headlines that made 2008 'one for the record books'.

I, for one, will forego adding to this penchant for lists, remembrances and tributes...with the exception of one thing: an observation of trends that need to pass with the close of this year. And I've got just the thing that needs to go away...tout de suite:

UGG BOOTS.

If ever there was an article of clothing which personifies the tourtured psyche of the American woman, then it has to be the Ugg Boot. I find it amazing that this style of footwear has become all the rage. Think of it: these boots - fashioned after those worn by whale blubber-eating Eskimos - are usually seen strutting about by rail-thin anorexic waifs!

It's the fashion equivalent of the Dali Lama going on a one-monk shooting spree. Both are shocking to witness, and both make about the same sense.

And before you Ugg-lovers howl in defense of your podietal pleasures, let me cut to the chase:

They're not comfortable, and
they make your feet sweat, and
even if they were comfortable,
they are downright ugly,
and not the "so ugly they're beautiful" kinda ugly, but rather
ugly as in "it looks like you're wearing two dog turds on your feet" kinda ugly.

If I could wish for one thing to fade away as 2008 comes to a close, these boots would be high on my list.

After all, a guy's gotta have a dream.

Sand in the Vaseline.

2008-12-29T14:38:00.000-08:00

I was surfing over the internet news feeds, trying to catch up on what was happening in the world. It seems like today's big news is the same big news that was yesterday's big news: unrest in the Middle East. I was surprised to find that the news wonks over at CNN.com saw fit to give equal billing with the recent Israeli attacks on Hammas to a man and a woman from England accused of having sex on the beach in Dubai. Alas, it's true: as if there wasn't enough pain and suffering in the Middle East, now they're importing more. And it's in the guise of two puffy-faced Brits having sex on the beach.

Used to be that anytime I consented to sex on the beach I was given a fruit-laden Vodka shooter. Nasty things, those drinks...which is why I guess they named it, 'sex on the beach'. Have you ever had beach sand stuck in your genitals? Not fun at all...just like the drink.

Anyhow, it seems that two folks from the UK - a Mr. Vince Acors, 34, and Michelle Palmer, 36 - were enjoying an all-you-can-drink Champagne binge at a Dubai nightclub. One thing (and, it would appear, one glass) led to another, and before you could say, "Who's wearing the Champagne Goggles?!", these two were snogging together on the beach. I'm reckoning that it wasn't at all like that infamous "From Here to Eternity" scene.

Due to the strict Muslim laws in Dubai, from here to eternity is what they just might be facing. Okay, not really. Just three months in jail.

Looking at these two is proof positive that over-imbibing on alcoholic beverages is a surefire way to get those - um - less-attractive of our species in a conjugal mood.

But, really, Dubai? Haven't you been building your reputation (and increasingly massive pleasure domes) in hopes of making a modern-day Gammorah, a place so decadent that it makes Las Vegas look like Romper Room? A place where over-indulgence of everything...food, material goods, and alcohol is not only condoned but approved of and provided for? Now, I might not be a Muslim, but I do think that there's at least one passage in the Koran that speaks harshly against the consumption of alcohol. And I'd say it's a pretty fair bet that there's a lot of promiscuity going on - and perhaps even condoned - in and around those pleasure domes.

Guess that's all okey-dokie with Dubai....as long as you don't do it on the beach. Seems the officials in Dubai have drawn an arbitrary line in that sand...and the line crosses over anything resembling a horizontal mombo upon it.

Kinda silly if you ask me. Better have me a drink...and, no, not a sex on the beach.

iTunes, We Have a Problem.

2008-12-27T11:13:00.000-08:00

I love iTunes.

It's a great way to buy, store and play music. I use it in my car, my iPhone and my home wireless system. When Amie and I prepare dinner, it's customary for me to pop a cork on something friendly, pour us both a glass, and select some music for us to listen to.

I love iTunes.

Which is not to say that iTunes is not without its quirks. Take for instance the album art feature. When you play a song on your computer/iPhone, an image of the appropriate album art is supposed to appear on the screen. I say supposed to appear, because - every now and then - iTunes gets it wrong.

Last night was one such instance. As we listened to the strains 0f Nancy Wilson singing "The Christmas Waltz", my personal favorite Christmas song ever. The song was part of a compilation Amie had purchased years ago at Pottery Barn. As she and I waltzed around the dining room (this song always gets us in the mood to dance), Thom and Jack gathered around the computer and began to giggle.

At first I thought the snickers were due to our dancing...but, no, it was what appeared on the screen. It seems that iTunes has it in its mind that the Pottery Barn Christmas album looks like "Playdagroove! Miami Album 08".

Well, at least it's got the appropriate green and red Christmas colors. And, given the fear of global warming, perhaps the appropriate wardrobe.

I hate iTunes.

Vulgar Wheat.

2008-12-25T17:18:00.001-08:00

My sons tend to go through phases with their breakfast cereals. At present they really seem to enjoy Frosted Mini-Wheats...or as we like to call them, "sweet squares". The few times we've actually used the term, "Mini-Wheats" the boys backed away from the table in a horror, thinking that we were trying to foist something healthy on them. As a result, we've placed emphasis on 'sweet', and have kept them at the table.

Suckers.

But what we de-emphasize Kellogg's appears to go out of their way to reemphasize. In no fewer than 12 places on box of Mini-Wheats will you find the word, "Wheat". This includes a proclamation, in bold ink, "Contains Wheat Products" directly underneath the ingredients' listing...a list which kicks off with the main ingredient: wheat. Seems Kellogg's really wants you to know - just in case you were wondering - that there's a whole lotta wheat going on in this box.

Now, I am sure that Kellogg's erring on the side of caution is all well and good. There are those folks out there who have severe intolerance to wheat and wheat-based products. In most cases, this intolerance results in a bloated stomach, skin rashes and even diarrhoea. In some severe cases, eating anything remotely wheaty can prove deadly.

But honestly, what moron afflicted with a wheat allergy is going to buy - much less eat - a food labeled "Mini-Wheats"?!

I betting their the same one who gets pissed off after opening a box of "Pebbles" that it really is a poor choice for lining the floor of their fish tank.

And, in case there was any doubt, I do need a second cup of coffee.

Oh, Tannenbaum!

2008-12-22T10:21:00.000-08:00

Ah, it's finally beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

The weather has turned cold enough that we can light a fire in the fireplace every night without the need of stripping down to a tee shirt and shorts, a hot toddy is practically de rigeur, and the smell of our decorated Douglas Fir is like a soothing balm to the soul. Life is good.

Last week we went out and found the perfect tree to place in the picture window of our living room. Bringing the tree home, and decorating it the next day was definitely a Frank Capra moment. That's my son Jack helping me offload the tree...with VIVI close by, thinking she's just gotten the mother of all chew toys.

I have to say that I'm a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to a Christmas tree. There are those who enjoy flocked trees...you know, the ones sprayed white with some faux-snow concoction. While Amie and I do miss a White Christmas, we don't miss it enough to be that gaudy...or to deal with the mess a flocked tree has got to cause when you're taking it down.

And, speaking of flocked trees, our local Christmas tree lot had flocked trees available in many colors other than white. Go figure. This one was my favorite. Now, honestly, who would want a putrid yellow Christmas tree in their house?! Is this really a popular choice these days? I could just imagine some drunk relative taking one look at this tree and thinking, "I wonder if that's made of Colby or Cheddar? Either way, screw it...I'm hungry!"

Perhaps I have relatives more dangerous than yours?

There were also (as you might be able to discern in the photo) a mint green and pastel pink-flocked tree. Hmmm. I guess it takes all kinds to make a world, huh?

Nope, for us it's just a 'plain Jane' Douglas Fir. It looks beautiful at night...both from my living room couch and from the front lawn.

I'm going to throw another log on the fire and pour a glass of something warming. Hope you will do likewise.
If you want to know about my favorite Christmas presents of all time, check out what I wrote last year... here, here, here, here and here. Also, this is pretty funny.

Are You an Apple or an Orange?

2008-12-21T15:57:00.000-08:00

I received an email yesterday from a former member of our wine club who was hopping mad. Seemed he took offense at a comment I made in high-profile wine magazine. In this article I had made mention that - having closed my winery - I was looking at the possibility of returning to The South. I was quoted as saying that I never really felt fully acclimated to life as a west coaster, and that my heart had always resided south of the Mason-Dixon. While I haven't made any serious plans to return back to the Southeast, I have to admit that the quote was, by and large, correct. I reckon that I am living proof that you can take the boy out of the South, but you can never take the South out of the boy.*

In this email, I was all but called a traitor. My correspondent tried to defend the West Coast way of life, and claimed that anyone who didn't think this lifestyle superior to all others was obviously lacking in both taste and sensibility. I responded that trying to compare the two was tantamount to comparing apples to oranges, and that just because I have a stated preference of one over the other didn't mean I couldn't (and I didn't) appreciate both.

So, what exactly differentiates a Southern way of life from a West Coast one? That's a good question...and one that I often am at a loss of words to answer. So instead, let me try to explain by use of the following photographic images.

1.) When you hear the words, "Beach Music", do you think of:
- or -
2.) Do you own a pair of moccasins that look like:
- or -
3.) When you get hungry for barbecue, does your mind turn to:
- 0r - 4.) When you go scuba diving, are you dressed like: - or - 5) In preparations for an afternoon at a college football game, do you require: - or - 6.) When you hear the word, 'summer', does your mind turn to: - or - 7) Taking current events out of the equation, do you consider America's
last big military debacle to be: - or -

8) When preparing a glass of tea, do you turn to:
- or -

9.) Hearing the term, "the arches", does your mind race to:
- or -

If you picked the first of the two photos accompanying any of these questions, chances are you're living on the west of the Mississippi. If you've consistently picked the second, you no doubt feel my pain. Again, it's not that any choices are necessarily 'better', they're just different.

And different is good. Trust me. I know.

*And, just to clarify to those would-be employers out there, I am more than happy to remain an expatriated Southern Boy if offered the right job.

Don't "Taze" Me, Bro!

2008-12-17T22:08:00.000-08:00

Least we forget it, we Americans love a good fad. Hula-Hoops, disco, pet rocks, yappy rat-like miniature dogs, you name it, we love it. And it would appear that Iraqi reporter Muntazer "Taze" al-Zaidi has his pulse firmly on the collective American psyche when - just last Sunday - he began a new craze: throw your shoe at The Man.

Seems shoe throwing - both literal and figurative - is all the rage...when you're in a rage. Jeez.

Just this week, talking heads were all a-buzz with the latest shoe sightings. Three days ago a Bronx fireman gets pissed at a fire chief closing a firehouse...and pretends to throw his shoe at him. The View's Joy Behar slips off one of her C.F.M. pumps and pounds it, Khrushchev-like - in a rage because poor ol' Elisabeth Hasselbeck gets dissed*. And then today, some Schmo goes to a New York Transit Authority public hearing and threatens to throw his shoe at the head transit guy!*

Merde.

And you can now buy "I Love Shoes" and "Bagdad - I Throw a Shoe at You!" t-shirts. That's right...and you can buy them here.

Please. Make it. STOP.

Now that's what Ed would call a 'really big shoe'. A really big shoe full of crap.

*Note to Joy Behar: next time you take your shoe off, please do us all a favor, and drive that spiked heel through Elizabeth's forehead. Not that it would damage anything, mind you...but at least you would finally get me to watch your show.

*And did you see that?! Before the guy was able to take his shoe off he was surrounded and tackled by many NY transit cops. Which goes to show: New York cops can beat the crap out of Iraqi cops. With or without shoes.

Favorite Photos of 2008.

2008-12-15T09:17:00.000-08:00

Hard to believe it, but it's nearly time to put 2008 in the archives. Where does the time go? Before we both get neck-deep in holiday festivities, I thought I'd share with you some of my favorite photos from 2008:

Here's our VIVI, taken the in late January, shortly after I brought her back from Georgia. She's since grown to nearly 60 pounds! She snores, farts and can often act like a bull in a china shop, but we love her all the same.

This is a shot of our two boys boogie boarding on Pismo Beach. When the weather permits, these two are always ready to hit the surf.

Thom and Jack again, here coloring Easter eggs. I may be a bit prejudiced, but aren't these two handome boys?

Here I am with two of my favorite people on the entire planet. That's Bob Lindquist on the left, and Daniel Ravier in the center. Bob owns Qupé Wine Cellars, while Daniel is the winemaker and General Manager of Domaine Tempier. Great guys, great wines.

Here's one of me and James Hunter...hands-down winner of the "Who's Mat's Favorite Musician of 2008?" His music (which I've talked about here) is amazing.

The onset of Fall means one thing around my house: The Return of Georgia Football! The first game I attended was in Tempe, Arizona, as UGA took on (and took apart) Arizona State. The day before the game, I hung out with Sonny Seiler and his son, Charles. The Seilers are the owners/caretakers of Georgia's beloved mascot, UGA. Here's a photo of UGA VII taken in the Seiler's hotel room. UGA just so happens to be VIVI's brother, and share UGA VI as their daddy.

Two weeks after meeting up with the team in Arizona, the family and I flew out to Athens, Georgia to take part in the UGA game versus Tennessee. My sons were invited to be the tee retrievers for the game, and the three Garretson boys watched from the sidelines as Amie watched from a Sky Box. That's Bulldog wide receiver Mohammad Massaquoi on the left, some UT defenders on the right, and me and my boys in the middle.

Here's one of the whole family shortly after the end of the game. The boys and I were able to spend some time in the locker room with the team. Both Jack and Thom felt so at ease, they didn't ask their dad to introduce them to anyone...they did it themselves. It was great watching them catch up with Matthew Stafford, Knowshon Moreno, etc., etc. This photo was on the short list of possible Christmas Card contenders. It was knocked out in favor of this one:

I've said it before...and will no doubt say it again: our two boys are drop-dead handsome! This is the photo we've sent out with our Christmas Cards.

Happy Holidays!

Wonder of Wonders, Miracles of Miracles.

2008-12-09T09:10:00.000-08:00

As if to downplay my discovery of 'the miracle bacon map of California', a lady in Fort Pierce, Florida now claims that an MRI photo of her brain taken six years ago has an image of the Virgin Mary.

Here's the image. Hmmm. Perhaps she does have a point.

She's decided that her six-year sabbatical has provided her with enough time for reflection as to what to do next. Taking a cue from the lady who found Mary in her toast, this woman has decided to hawk her MRI photo on eBay.

As of this writing the bidding is up to $225.00 Uh-huh...Two-Hundred and Twenty-Five Dollars for this image. And people say there's an economic crisis.

Makes me wish that I would have shown some restraint, and had not eaten 'the miracle bacon map of California' after I had taken its photo. I could have put it on eBay and the dough would roll in. But, then again, perhaps it's not too late? Perhaps there's a living to be made in selling old MRIs with hidden images? I've looked at mine (shown below), but I can't seem to find the Virgin Mary or a slice of Bacon. How about you?:

Ummmmm. BACON.

You can't fry humor-blogs.com in a pan, but it sure is tasty.

It's a Miracle!

2008-12-08T14:41:00.000-08:00

I've heard tell of a kindly old lady who toasted some bread that resulted in burn marks which looked a lot like the Virgin Mary. I've even read about one guy who was at Graceland the day Elvis died, and he witnessed a cloud that looked like The King in profile.

Now I would usually dismiss such proclamations as the ranting of a dangerous mind. But after what I experienced today I am not so sure. As you can see below, my breakfast certainly resembled the shape of California. I'm thinking of preserving this piece of pig belly. It could really help me out when folks ask me, "Just where in the heck is San Luis Obispo?!"

Could be quite the conversation starter. I ended up thinking the better of it...besides, I'm a sucker for bacon!

And you can go be a sucker for humor-blogs.com.

A Sheep in Lion's Clothing.

2008-12-03T07:29:00.001-08:00

I pity poor James Sheep. Since January of 2007, James has served as the mascot for the Penn State Nittany Lions. In my humble opinion, that Penn State's mascot ranks among the worst in college football. The outfit Sheep has had to endure for nearly two years looks like the lame creation of some low-budget, local cable access kiddie show. It looks to me like a rat with a thyroid condition. It's similar to a lion only in that it begins with an "L" and has four letters. L-A-M-E.

What exactly is a Nittany Lion, anyhow? They say the name honors the mountain lions that used to roam Mount Nittany, which is located near the school's campus. Uh-huh. I've been to College Station, PA, and have even had dinner with Joe Pa and his wife at his house. Twice. While there, I have had ample opportunity to see Mount Nittany up close. To me the mountain looks like a big meat loaf. Hillock, definitely. Hill, maybe. Mountain? No way. If mountain lions once roamed that turf, I'm betting my neighbor's cat could beat the crap out of one.

I digress. Anyway, back to James Sheep. He's been parading around in this outfit for TWO YEARS. It must be enough to drive a man to drink. Well, it looks like it finally has...or has at least has resulted in James getting too drunk to drive. At 3:15 a.m., the morning of Penn's 49 to 18 beating of Michigan State like a drum, ol' James was out with his possé, getting a little 'pregame attitude adjustment'. A momentary lapse in judgement caused Sheep to decide to drive his car. Well, James was pulled over by a University police man, and - can you believe it?! - he was found to be drunker than Cooter Brown*. Now, I'm all for starting your pre-game tailgaiting early, but not 13 hours before a game, and certainly not while driving in the car. I guess Big 10* schools are a bit different than the SEC*.*

Luckily for James Sheep his incarceration ended in ample time for him to take part in his much-anticipated sideline hijinks, which were no doubt viewed by a bunch of drunk fans. And it was a good thing he made it. At halftime Penn State honored Sheep for his exemplary services as mascot for two seasons! Ah, the sweet irony of it all.

I could not imagine donning the Nittnay Lion mascot uniform in anywhere near a sober state. I could only imagine what it felt like to do it hungover.

Poor James Sheep.

Rumor has it that University officials are seriously considering not allowing James Sheep to travel with the team for the Rose Bowl. I for one think they should let him go. And if they're short on cash to send him, they could probably score some big-time endorsement moolah for his appearance, too. Think of it: "The Penn State Halftime Show with James Sheep! Sponsored by Jaegermeister!"

The only thing they need to worry about is if Sheep gets a bit too into his routine, and the bottle. I'm betting that, if he did, Penn State would be penalized for excessive end zone celebration.
*Now, to be fair, I really don't know anyone named "Cooter Brown", so I've really no idea as to how drunk he can get. The saying is fairly popular in The South, which is where I grew up. I would imagine that if my parents had named me "Cooter" I'd be a fairly accomplished drunk, too.

*And that's another thing. Why is the Big 10 comprised of eleven teams? I'm betting their math skills aren't all that good. And guess which was the last team in the Big 10? You guessed it...Penn State!

*Yes they are in that they suck at football!

*Look at me! Three side notes in one paragraph! Um...guess this one makes four. Now I can finally relate to the Big 10!

Stop looking at these asterisks and go check out humor-blogs.com.

My Left Foot.

2008-12-02T13:41:00.000-08:00

I have to say that I lead a fairly charmed existence. Throughout my life I've been incredibly lucky. On the whole, good things seem to come my way. And when I say, "on the whole", I mean for most of my body. The same cannot be said about my left foot. It seems to be cursed. For the last two decades I've been injury free...with the exception of damage I've incurred to my left foot.

This discrepancy in an otherwise charmed life recently came into focus - painful focus - this morning. I was walking from the kitchen to the dining room when I stubbed my fourth left toe on the leg of a chair. Here's a photo of my foot (above). You will note that the aforementioned toe is now black and blue...not to mention a bit swollen. I reckon it's broken, but what can you do? There's not much a doctor can do for a broken smaller toe except to say 'live with it'. That and, 'that will be $100, please'.

You may also notice that the nail of my big toe is just now starting to grow back. I lost this toenail on October 8th in Chicago, Illinois. My family and I were relaxing in the Admiral's Club at O'Hare, and - when I went to retrieve our bags from a closet, the heavy door came into contact with my big toe. The door won.

This is the second time I've lost this toenail in 15 years. The other time was caused by 'catching' a falling wine bottle on my toe. At least the bottle didn't break.

And two years back I broke my fibula, just above the left ankle. It broke while showing my boys "the agony of defeat" move on the ice rink of our resort in Squaw Valley. The ice won that time. I spent the evening medicated by Bourbon, and the next six weeks in a walking cast. In a cast I walked with in England, in France, in Miami, in Chicago, in Texas and California. That boot was made for walking.

I dunno. Perhaps it's kinda like The Picture of Dorian Gray. Maybe my left foot is my 'picture in the attic'? Or perhaps my left foot is my Achilles' Heal? Or perhaps it's high time I stop wearing sandals all of the time?

Well, I would start wearing more closed toed shoes, but with the condition my left toes are in, it's downright painful to wear anything but sandals.

Just call me hop-a-long.

Space Cadets.

2008-12-01T21:06:00.000-08:00

I tell ya, I love watching college football. With the regular season coming to a close, I'm feeling a tad bit maudlin. There's nothing quite like settling in to a comfy chair on a Fall Saturday to watch a game or two with friends*. I'm going to miss it when it's gone.

But I have to say there's one thing I won't miss about watching football on TV, and that's the commentator's use of the phrase, "in space". Those two words seem to be on the lips of every talking head in football. And it's annoying. "He's a great quarterback, because he's able to read the defense, and get to his receivers in space", or, "his coaching ability allows him to manage his players in space".

Come on...it's football, not rocket science. No matter how hard you try to make it rocket science.

Perhaps they're trying to sound technical, or are trying to elevate the sport of football to another level. To me they just sound like jerks looking for a new way to talk about a sport that enjoys great traditions.

*Okay, so there is something better than watching it on TV. And that's watching it from the sidelines. I had the opportunity to do that a few times this year, cheering on my Georgia Bulldogs. Here's a photo of Mohammad Massaquoi outrunning a few Tennessee Volunteers at this year's game in Athens. Notice me with my sons in the background??

Snatching Defeat From the Jaws of Victory.

2008-11-29T13:52:00.000-08:00

Ouch.

Just watched my Georgia Bulldogs give away an assured victory to Georgia Tech. No doubt those idiots from Tech are ripping out pieces of our beloved Hedge as souvenirs.

Georgia was all over Tech in the first half. They were beating them liked they owned him. The second half? Not so much. It's as if we substituted our guys for the fourth-string team. Fourth stringers from a high school for the blind, that is. Yet another game where Knowshon Moreno rushed for fewer yards than we were penalized.

It makes me sick to my stomach. But, hey! Gotta Look on the bright side! Now that my stomach's been emptied, I've got a whole lot more room for Thanksgiving Day leftovers!

Next year...next year.

Go drown your sorrows in a big bowl of humor-blogs.com.

Of Human Bondage.

2008-11-29T09:10:00.001-08:00

Last week, while my two sons were out with their grandfather, my youngest, Thomas, purchased a toy gun and handcuff set. Like any eight year-old boy, Thomas wants to be a policeman when he grows up. At least he does when he doesn't dream of being the next star football player for the Georgia Bulldogs.

I happened across Thom's toy handcuffs while cleaning up the family room yesterday. Looking at them had me thinking - like any 46 year-old boy might - 'why on earth would anyone find being handcuffed remotely sexy?'

The answer came to me a few minutes later while vacuuming. All adult role-playing involving bondage themes really boil down to one thing: the party that's being bound is lazy. That's right...lazy. Instead of admitting they're lame Lotharios, they tell their partner that they're into being handcuffed to the bedposts en flagrante. In this way they can blame their inability to reciprocate in any sensual manner on the hindrance of the hardware.

That's got to be it, right?

Yeah. Deep thoughts on a Saturday morning. Now you can do what I'm going to do...go enjoy the last weekend of regular-season college football.

And when you're done with that, go check out humor-blogs.com.

Two Turkeys for Thanksgiving.

2008-11-27T08:34:00.000-08:00

I know. I'm in a rut. It seems all I can do is post these semi-silly riffs on motivational posters. Perhaps I'm conserving energy in preparation to digest that BIG Thanksgiving meal. But seeing how the college football regular season comes to a close this Saturday, I thought I'd post a few aimed at folks living in Alabama and Florida. Y'all suck.

I promise to get more creative for my next post. And, no, it won't involve poster art. In the meantime, I hope that you and yours have a wonderful Thanksgiving celebration. And, for those of you who live outside of the U.S. (and may therefore be unacustomed to our quaint holiday), please spend the rest of this day over-feeding yourselves.

GO DAWGS!

Like art, humor is in the eye of the beholder. But humor-blogs.com is pretty damn funny.

Motivation for the Final Frontier.

2008-11-26T10:18:00.000-08:00

In yesterday's post I admit that I took the lazy way out. Instead of writing something pithy, I fell back to Photoshop to create a few 'motivational posters'. One of these posters had a Star Trek theme, the other played on my hatred of cats. Being somewhat of a Trekker (a fact for which you can confirm here), I thought today I'd share more Trek-related photos rendered like those lame office motivational posters that seem to be all the rage...that is if you believe what you read in Sky Mall is any.

Many thanks to the folks over at eRobertParker.com for providing some of these lines. You allowed me to be even lazier that yesterday!

Get of your lazy keester and go check out humor-blogs.com.

Phun With Photoshop!

2008-11-25T11:59:00.000-08:00

My contribution to the slew of motivational/inspirational posters that are all-too-often seen in work environments:

Ho-hum...back to work.

And you can go head back to humor-blogs.com.

Reading and Sh*t.

2008-11-24T14:40:00.000-08:00

Recently I received an email from a woman who worked at Hachette Book Group, a not-so-diminutive publishing house which Americans may know better by their Little Brown marque. It seems this lady had read my blog (amazing in and of itself), and thought my blog was funny. Or, at least she thought it funny enough to think, "Hey! I should send this guy some of our humor books! If I do, perhaps he'll even write about them on his blog!?"

Well, call me a shill, but she did send the books, and I'll now write about one of them. After all, I used to review movies and wines, why not an occasional book? Now if only someone from Cunard would write to offer me free First Class accommodations on the Queen Mary 2! You can bet your patootey that this blog would be re-titled, "Cunard Is The Greatest Thing Ever".

Of the three books she sent to me, I've only had the opportunity to read one. It's titled, "Is it Just Me or is Everything Shit?" It seems that this is the Americanized version of a hugely popular book in the U.K. Or, at least it's popular enough that they've printed a Volume Two. I was drawn to the book for three reasons. The first being that I often think that much of modern society is a load-a crap...and my observations form the basis for quite a number of my postings. The second is that for the U.S. edition of this book (How do you shorten it? "I.I.J.M.O.I.E.S."? "Shit"?) the publishers called on the pen of Brendan Hay, a one-time writer for The Daily Show With Jon Stewart and The Simpsons, so I'm thinking to myself, "It's got to be funny." Lastly, I am, with very few exceptions (read: The Benny Hill Show, Are You Being Served? and No, Honestly) a fan of British humor. Having lapped up everything from Dave Allen to Monty Python, from Alas Smith and Jones to the Blackadder*, I imagined that this book would hit my funny bone.

Now, when you read the words "for fuck's sake", or "fucktard" there is one thing you can be assured of: the writers are British. Both terms are liberally sprinkled throughout the pages. So this book - while edited for a U.S. audience - still has plenty of humour. The observations are, for the most part, dead on. And, again, for the most part, their riffs on modern life are pretty damn funny. But the book is a lot like a Whitman's Sampler Pack. Some of the offerings are incredibly indulgent, while some are just not to my taste. That, and like the Whitman's, you best not consume it in one sitting...or it's going to make you sick. This book is best consumed a few bites at a time.

So, if you're looking for a stocking stuffer for that curmudgeon on your list, or looking for a good addition to your lavatory library, I'd suggest checking out this title. As for me, I'm going to sit here and wait until I get that call from Cunard!

*Blackadder is easily the funniest show ever to grace a television on either side of the pond. And before you go off saying, "Hey! That's not British! Rowan Atkinson is from Australia!" Let me just say this: "No he isn't, that's a popular misconception", or "Even if he was, it was broadcast on the BBC", or "Get an f-ing life". Feel free to take your pick

And now you can go off to humor-blogs.com with my blessings.

You're Overdrawn on Your 15 Minutes, Lady.

2008-11-22T07:36:00.000-08:00

This just in to our "I'm trying to milk and extra second more than my 15 minutes of fame" department. And, no - thankfully - I'm not talking about Sarah Palin or Joe the Plumber, but, rather, Ashley Dupré. You remember her...right? She was the call girl who's affair with New York Governor (and self-professed "Mr. Clean") Elliott Spitzer earned her her 15 minutes, and Spitzer a lifetime of shame. That and an eternity serving as blog fodder.

Well, Ms. Dupré was interviewed Friday night on 20/20 by Barbara Walters. Wow...a hooker being interviewed by a tramp? Talk about 'Must See TV'! Well, not for me...I was watching the Marx Brothers' A Night at the Opera with my boys. Much more entertaining. And Kitty Carlisle was hot back in 1935. At least hotter than Ashley Dupré.

For those of you who are wondering, "Who the f*ck is Ashley Dupré?" I salute you. And I provide this picture of her for your edification. I know what you're thinking: "Elliott Spitzer paid $4,300 an hour, and ruined his life for her?"

Everything about Dupré screams trash. I especially like that oh-so-tasteful tattoo she's sporting above her bikini line. I wonder what it reads? My guesses?:

You Must Be Taller Than This to Ride.
Exact Fare Required.
No Refunds.
Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter.
Slippery When Wet.
Inspected - USDA Skank.
Spitzer Was Here.
Thanks...Come Again!*
Objects Are Smaller Than They Appear.
Do Not Talk to Driver While Vehicle is in Motion.

*Can't take credit for thinking up this one. Thanks, Jack J. Bulkin!

There's no doubt thousands of Dupré riffs to be found on humor-blogs.com.

Something About Nuts Falling From a Tree?

2008-11-22T07:22:00.000-08:00

Have you signed up for Netflix yet? The Garretson family really loves this service. Flat fee, no driving to the video store, incredible selection...that's delivered to our door in 48 hours! Whoo-Hoo!

The boys really like Netflix, too. In two short months of membership, they've gone through all of the Goosebumps DVDs, as well as a number of Star Wars Clone Wars, Pokemon, Transformers...you get the picture. Trying to dredge up new titles for them to enjoy was getting downright difficult. Until now, that is.

Knowing that Jack and Thom share their dad's penchant for high-brow science fiction (Amie would argue that there is no such thing) and low-brow humor, I looked up one of my favorites: Mystery Science Theater 3000. And, as luck would have it, they've got scads of available titles! Wooo-Hoo indeed!

The first DVD I rented was one that included a series of shorts, including "Mr. B Natural". If you've seen it I don't need to explain how funny-slash-disturbing it is. If you've not seen it, I can't explain it to you. Sorry. Well, the boys laughed their tiny little keesters off! Jack wanted to know if I would buy the DVD from Netflix, but when I explained there were dozens of more MST3K (as we "Misties" call the show) titles to be had, he was all for sending it back and ordering more.

So far we've seen "Teenagers from Space" and "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians", both of which have been given two thumbs way up from our diminiutive, budding Siskel & Eberts. Right now I'm staying with the older episodes starring Joel Hodgson. When Joel retired Mike Nelson took his place...and about that time I started dating Amie. It's not that I don't like Nelson, it's just that I never gave him the chance.

Perhaps I will...perhaps I will.

It's fun sharing laughs with the kids...especially over something that I enjoyed so much as this show. Hey! That reminds me! It's almost Thanksgiving! The week of Thanksgiving Comedy Central ran and MST3K "Turkey Day" Marathon. That was until Comedy Central canceled the show.

Remind me to send a "f-you" letter to Jon Stewart.

And let me remind you to go check out humor-blogs.com.

You've Got Mail!

2008-11-21T08:25:00.000-08:00

Economic prognosticators have been all over cable TV lately, each trying to describe (in exceedingly boring detail, I might add) the how's and why's of our current economic doldrums. Each points to their own indicators of doom...from the ever-falling Dow Jones' Industrial Average, to cost of gas, to the length of skirt hemlines.

As if we needed yet another indicator that the economy is in the crapper, I've got my own. All you need do is check out your computer's mail box to realize that our economy sucks. Every day my inbox is stuffed with notices of sales, special offers and once-in-a-lifetime deals from all manner of retailers. I estimate I spend at least 20 minutes each day responding to these emails...all asking to be unsubscribed from future emails. I know, 20 minutes may not seem like a long time, but I've got college football to watch!

Here's my prognostication: 4th Quarter is gonna be a stinker. Think the Titanic, but without the band. And you know what that means? More store closures in January...or at least an avalanche of spammed email offers for me.

Have a great weekend!

Humor-blogs.com tastes a whole lot better than Spam.

"Knowledge is Good." - Emil Faber

2008-11-20T22:46:00.000-08:00

I couldn't let today pass by without making mention of a very special anniversary. It was 30 years ago today that saw the release of the movie, Animal House.

Wow. Thirty years ago?!

I well remember going to the theater back in 1978 to watch this movie, and it was love at first viewing. Over the last three decades I bet I've seen Animal House at least 100 times. Like Caddyshack, I doubt there is a American man in his mid-forties who's alive today who can't quote the whole movie verbatim, start to finish. Standing in my kitchen with my wife this afternoon, I was doing just that that...until Amie shot me that look which said, "Stop...right now...before I kill you."

Within a few years of the release of Animal House I myself became a fraternity boy...a Sigma Nu for those who care to know. Right above is a picture of me with some of my brothers shortly after we won the the Greek Week talent show. That's me on the far left, wearing plaid, which was a daily ritual for me those days, hence one of my many nicknames, Plaidman. Gawd, was my belly really that flat?

We did our best to emulate the boys from Delta House. From performing the Gator to Carolina Beach Music, to living on a diet that was 90% beer, we had fun. Ah, the privileges of youth.

So, Happy Anniversary, Animal House! 30th anniversaries traditionally call for pearls. I could make a joke about gifting Mandy or Babs with a necklace...but I'd probably get that look again from my wife.

Otis Day and the Knights are performing right now on humor-blogs.com!

Adieu, Adios & Arrivederci!

2008-11-19T15:37:00.000-08:00

After months of reflection, prayer and discussion, Amie and I have decided to pull the plug on Garretson Wine Company. I am sure that you can appreciate that this was not an easy decision to make...but it's one that - having now made it - we are entirely at peace with.

There were a number of factors which led to this decision. Firstly, as you know, the economy is in a shambles. That means it's gotten a whole lot tougher to sell high-end wines, and that those folks buying our wines aren't paying us in a timely manner. Secondly, the only way I've been able to keep selling wine is to constantly be on the road. While I've not been one to shirk from the title, "Road Warrior", it DOES get old...not to mention awfully expensive.

But more important than the economy is how this business has taken a toll on my family. Before my last big road trip, my son Thomas asked if I'd bring him home a big tube of Krazy Glue. When I asked him why, he responded, "So I can glue your feet to the ground, and you'll stop traveling so much." Ouch. Thom's now eight, and Jack is nine. It's simply not worth my missing their childhoods to go out every Monday and return home every Saturday.

So it is that we've decided that a change was needed. What will really determine our next step will be where I can find a good job. While my job search won't exclude the possibility of another position in the wine business, I am open to other opportunities. Certainly, if you are aware of any potential leads (in or out of the wine business) that you think I'd be ideal for, I'd sure like to hear from you.

And I'd like to ask you for your prayers for my family during the start of this new adventure. We value them...and your friendship!

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
- Teddy Roosevelt

Proud as Proud Can Be!

2008-11-19T07:38:00.000-08:00

This seen at a stop light yesterday morning:

That's right. It reads, "Proud Parent of a Vegetarian". A vegetarian? Uh-huh. Does being the parent of a vegetarian really deserve bumper sticker status? Is it up there on a par with your kid making the honor roll at school? It is up there on a par with your kid serving in the Army? Really?

Just another sure sign that we live in an "every kid's a winner, there are no losers" society. Why don't you just placard your bumper with a sticker that reads, "Proud parent of a child who is a trendy, ashen face waif that listens to way too much Pfish, and who will soon go off to college to explore alternative lifestyles, too."

Guess that's too much reality for a bumper sticker, huh?

Time to go mine the funny at humor-blogs.com.

O'Reilly & Stewart: TAKE IT ON THE ROAD!

2008-11-16T14:58:00.002-08:00

Last week Bill O'Reilly showed up on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart. Now I am sure that - when he's not in front of a Fox News' camera - Bill-O is a nice enough guy. The sad thing is, though, is that he's paid to spew self-righteous invective, Republican party talking points and hawk his latest book...all at the same time. Watching him shout at the top of his lungs his hatred towards Massachusetts Representative Barney Frank made me wince. It's not that I especially like Frank...but it was a great indicator as to how far mature political discourse has fallen.

I guess that's entertainment!

It was an interesting half-hour. The two each were (in their own way) a bit more civil than I had expected. And they both - at times - respected the other's opinions. It got me thinking that it would be great for these two to stage a series of debates across the U.S. You know...kinda like in the laid-back, town hall format that some politicians favor. But with out all the B.S.

I know I'd pay to show up.

There's far too much fractionalizing still going on in the American political arena. In the end neither side is served by it...the real ones who benefit are those who's special interests are served. I long for a congress that is more bipartisan, and a president who holds a real mandate, not the George Bush kind. Sadly, those days don't happen much...I think you'd have to point to the immediate post-9/11 times to as the last time it happened. Do we really need such a terrible act to occur for our leaders - and press - to see and act like we're all Americans?

I know...you wanted to read something that was even remotely funny. Sorry, not today. Go check out humor-blogs.com for your chuckle fix.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...Summer.

2008-11-16T14:58:00.001-08:00

Oh, where for art thou, Christmas?

While you're still five weeks away, the stores in San Luis Obispo are full of your decorative trappings. Nearly every parking lot light pole is festooned with green and red garland with bright, shiny bulbs. Even the airwaves are alive with the sounds of the holidays.

My son Thomas and I drove downtown yesterday, and we witnessed the sights and sounds of impending Christmas season nearly everywhere we went. We both found it hard to reconcile with reality. Perhaps it was because it was such a bright, sunny day. The temperature reached 90˚F. Or perhaps it was watching the folks downtown stroll about in shorts, bikini tops and sandals.

I dunno. This time of year usually has me missing snow. Or, barring that, at least temperatures that have people wearing long pants and jackets. Thom and I listened to Bing Crosby croon, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" on the radio.

Not here it isn't.

Perhaps it's snowing over at humor-blogs.com? You'll never know unless you go check it out!

Parked Potted Putting Person.

2008-11-16T09:24:00.000-08:00

This was the view as I walked out my front door to get the newspaper. Notice anything? That's right...a car. A faded light blue Honda Prelude is parked in front of my house. And it didn't just get there this morning. It's been sitting there since 10am yesterday morning.

There were a lot of other cars parked next to it for most of Saturday afternoon. You see, we live less than 400 yards from the San Luis Obispo Country Club, and this weekend they play host to the 12th annual Straight Down Clothing Fall Classic. It's a pro-am tournament. I even hear that Freddie Couples was out there.

Now I love golf. I've been fortunate enough to play on some of the best links between Pebble Beach and Scotland. Every now and then I'll watch a tournament on TV. That usually means I'm visiting my parents in Atlanta, watching it with my dad. But, with the exception of The Masters, I've never had much interest in watching a golf tournament in person. Too much walking, too little to see. You're better off watching it on the big screen in the comfort of your living room. And that folding money you would have spent on tickets, gas and over-priced lukewarm Budweiser and stale hot dogs can buy a fella a whole lotta liquid libation.

Speaking of libations, I couldn't help but wonder: why did the driver of this car see fit to leave his auto overnight? Could he/she have hooked up at the tournament? "Hey! You're a John Daly fan?! Me too! Let's get it on!!" Perhaps...but I've got my doubts.

No. In all likelihood this driver got too drunk to drive. Too drunk to drive by watching golf. Say...maybe he/she is a John Daly fan!

Do people really get too drunk to watch golf? Is this typical? I can understand people getting drunk watching NASCAR. If you see me in the stands at Talladega, you can bet your ass that half my body weight will consist of Jack Daniels.

Tanked at the tournament. Drunk watching duffers. Potted viewing putting. Now that's a spectator sport I'd pay to see.

And would I pay for you to now check out humor-blogs.com? Not likely...but you never know.

Paradise or Cesspool?

2008-11-13T16:31:00.000-08:00

So there I was - again! - listening to my XM satellite radio, when my attention was piqued by one of their commercials. This time they were shilling for Branson. As in Branson, Missouri. Time was Branson was a place where old nobody's who were too sedentary to live the life of a dinner theater vagabond went to die.

Not any more...if you're to believe the commercial I listened to. Branson is now the 'vacation capitol of the world". And don't just take their word for it...this statement has been vouchsafed by no finer a publication than BQ Magazine!

That naturally got me thinking...who or what in the hell is a BQ Magazine?

I was betting on it being "Branson Quarterly", but nooooo. There's no such a publication...at least according to my exhaustive internet search. From the results of this search I've whittled the possibilities down to four. And here they are:

The British publication, Business Quarter. Now to be fair, the Brits have been known to think Benny Hill is funny. They also think that the rocky shores of Bristol are on a par with - say - the a sandy stretch on Maui. So you know they're not always to be trusted as the arbiters of good taste. But I'm betting this is not the BQ Magazine that touted Branson.

Then there's a magazine known as Boomerang Quarterly. Holy Crap. You mean to tell me that there's a regular publication dedicated to the needs of boomerang enthusiasts?!? What a waste of time. But, come to think of it, so is throwing a boomerang.

Nope, this couldn't be the magazine I was searching for. The only boomerang action you're apt to find in Branson, Missouri is when you partake of the $8, all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Like a boomerang, it's bound to come right back into your lap.

I found this Las Vegas-based BQ Magazine, too. It's for fans of the hip-hop scene. If faced to spend an hour leafing through these pages I'm thinking that Boomerang Quarterly would looking pretty good.

Naw. Too many rednecks in Branson. Too much love of fried cheese curds and Willie Nelson for this magazine to gush over the city.

I finally determined that the BQ Magazine talked about in the commercial just had to be this one. Beauty Queen Magazine. I imagine a lot of beauty pageants are held in Branson. It used to be that Miami Beach had these type of events locked up. But with Burt Parks now dead and gang-bangers running amok, Branson looks a whole lot safer than Miami.

So it would seem that the folks extolling the virtues of a Branson vacation want you to put your trust not in their commercial...but instead perpetually perky, smiling girls big on cup size but short on smarts. They know where the fun is...and it's to be had in Branson!

Now don't get me wrong. Branson, Missouri is a pretty exciting place. I've been there myself. It offers visitors with a whole heckuva lot to see and do. Why, just take a peek at some of the photos I took on my trip there:

Every window in the hotel I stayed at had its own breathtaking view!
It was especially breathtaking when the wind was in my face.

The hotel boasted some of the most modern amenities like this
outdoor pool/bathtub. This guy's name is Clem, and he's the owner.
He offered to loofah my back for me.

The state bird sure is easy to find...they're everywhere. Especially on you.

And all the friendly locals I met sure were colorful.
It helps if your favorite color happens to be red.

So, if you're planning that next great getaway, forget about Frankfurt. Adios, Antibes! Bon Voyage, Britain! Do what all smart-thinking beauty queens do...head to Branson, Missouri!

But, before you do, pack your bags and head right now to humor-blogs.com!

The Fathers of Invention.

2008-11-13T09:38:00.000-08:00

So there I was, driving in my car yesterday, listing to my XM satellite radio. When the occasional commercial comes on, I usually surf to another station, or just tune myself out of the noise. I was doing the later when my subconscious picked up on the tone of one commercial. Perhaps it was the background music, maybe the voice. Naw...it was the content.

The commercial featured a distraught young woman who was trying to determine who her father was. Turns out that the fine folks behind this commercial - Identigene - had just the answer...in an in-home DNA testing kit that could solve the young lady's dilemma, and determine her paternity.

First we had the in-home pregnancy test. By peeing on a stick, women could instantly find out if they were going to be visited by the stork. Now medical science has gone one better! For only $30 you can pop into the store and buy a kit that contains three swabs...one for you, one for your mom and one for the alleged daddy. Simply obtain mouth cultures with the swabs (how I'd love to be a fly on the wall watching that), have all concerned sign the consent forms (provided), and send it back to their lab...oh, and with a check for $120 for processing.

Thank you, Identigene!

And you bet the folks at Identigene back up their product. Well, they will. Just cough up another $250 more if you want them to stand behind their product in cases of child support, divorce, and the like.

Don't you just love technology?

And don't you just get a chuckle out of the knuckleheads at humor-blogs.com?

The Idea For Which I Make Millions, Part I

2008-11-12T14:21:00.000-08:00

Like all good Americans, I succeed by the sweat of my brow. I am in possession of an entrepreneurial spirit equaled by the likes of Pullman, Astor, Bell and Edison. Relentless in my search for the next opportunity for riches to strike me like a lightning bolt, I'm always thinking.

Throughout my life - and the life of this blog - I've explored those get rich quick schemes, like the time I confessed my desire to make millions inventing names for college bands. Sadly, such dreams of glory have remained just that...dreams.

But now I think I'm on the cusp of Great Things. When I introduce my new confectionary gadget, the Pope-Pez™!

Think of it! It's candy! It's religion! Two great treats in one! Simply cock back the head of your Pope-Pez™ and get ready to receive absolution - and minty fresh breath - all in one!

And the possibilities are nearly endless. You can create a different Pope-Pez™ for every Pope. Collect all 265...from Saint Peter to Pope Benedict XVI! And it doesn't end there. We can make a different candy for different sins. Need to cover an adultery? Spearmint should take care of that. Using the Big Man's name in vain again? Sounds like you need a licorice-flavored treat. Murder someone lately? Well, friend, you need to pony up for a six-pack.

All I need for this brainchild is some money. About an even million should do it. Any backers out there?

Stop wasting time...go check out humor-blogs.com.

Monday Morning Mystery.

2008-11-10T09:33:00.000-08:00

Two months ago, Amie and I bought a new coffeemaker. It's a Krups...from Germany. And as anybody who's used a Shamwow knows, the Germans make great things.

All in all, I like my Krups' coffeemaker. That is except for the fact that the lip of the carafe has been purposefully designed to ensure coffee dribbles down its sides regardless of pouring angle. But it really is an amazing machine. It percolates my coffee just fine, makes pretty decent espresso, and - the most amazing thing of all - it performs a magic trick every time I use it!

Every morning I fill the carafe with water, up to the 10-cup line, and pour it into the Krups' machine. After adding the coffee, I press the 'start' button, and off it goes. The 'magic' is in the fact that somewhere in the system I always lose water. Quite a bit of water, actually...like two to three cups worth.

Where does the water go?

Now I can appreciate the fact that some of the water is absorbed by the coffee grounds. But three cups worth? Doesn't seem likely. Besides, I've inspected the grounds afterwards, and while they're certainly wet, they're not liquid.

To compensate for this little mystery, I find myself having to add one and a quarter carafe of water to the system just to brew a full pot.

Where does the water go?

The machine doesn't leak...I've checked for that. Somewhere, somehow my little Krups machine is retaining water. And I can figure out how or why.

It's the little mysteries in life that get me.

Humor-blogs.com is more stimulating than a pot of coffee!