Oh YEAH BABY! Its GO Time!!

Who are YOU going to kiss at midnight?

SEMI TRUE STORY

So yesterday I am in the computer room banging away at the spelling errors on my blog and my son is in the back room playing on the new Wii, when I see a firetruck drive by the house. This might not be unusal in your neck of the woods, but you see, it is WAY uncommon in my neck of the backwoods! So I go to the front porch and look around. I see no fire. I look to the East and see no fire. I look to the west and see no fire. I sniff the four winds and smell no fire. Out of duty, more than concern, I go to the back door to repeat the process and see the world is a-balze! The 400 aces of grassland behind my house on fire and the steady south winds were blowing it right at me!

Actually, that's probably what I would have seen if I had looked outside about 15 minutes earlier. As it was, about 100 acres had burned up, the local fire department had shown up, put out the fire and were driving around soaking the smoldering reminents. SO, while it was not really an adventure, it still left me a bit weak in the knees to realize my son and I might have been burned alive while deeply entranced in one form of electronic video gizmo or another. This was a real threat to life, family, home and security and do you realize that Redneck Diva never once did the descent thing and offered to help or even warn us of the impending disaster. Sorry Diva, Oklahoma Bloggers just don't support arsonists.

Another Competition

So it seem Barrak (the vote) Obama's people are offering up 10 tickets in an essay writing jump ball contest. The best essayist that is also a likely campaign contributor, will win an all expense paid trip to the Inauguration, the parade and one of the balls. It's a big deal and I need to find a way to win this sucker! I am thinking about submitting something like:

Growing up as a poor black child in Oklahoma, prior to becoming a multi-million dollar but anonymous Democratic Party contributor as an adult, I daily faced the reality of racism and the oppression of poverty. Upon graduating at the top of my class with perfect grades, teeth and little to no body odor, I saw many of my less deserving classmates whisked into upper level management positions or full ride scholarships because of the good old (white) boy culture that still exists even today.

This inauguration marks the beginning of the end of those times. The end of times when poor black kids like me will watch others moved to the front of the line because of their white skin color or inside connections. I, and preceding generations before me, have longed for the day when that unfair, racist favoritism was no longer showered on others, but instead, would be showered on us. And I believe that January 20th (or there abouts) will be the day those changes begin to take place. It would be my greatest honor to be witness to, and take part in, that change for this country.

So what do you think, do I have a winner? Since it is for a political group I don't think honesty matters all that much, so the fact that I am a middle aged white guy might actually be in my favor. ...I wonder if I need a warmer coat for Washington? I hear it can be really cold there in January.

So It Begins

THE FOLLOWING IS A PAID POLITICAL ANNOUNCEMENT

You know, Oklahoma has a long history of poverty


We, as a state, have come to know ..and in many ways expect suffering and misery to surround us.



We have become indifferent to the abuse of innocents



While Redneck Diva seems happy with the state of affairs we have endured while she reigned as the Okie Blog Award winner, this is NOT the Oklahoma I want for my children! A vote for me means a vote for a better, more lucrative Oklahoma. We need to take steps forward to a prosperous future, not fall back into the disparity of the Dust Bowl that Redneck Diva calls, "The Good Old Days."

The 2008 OKIES Are Here!!

So my old buddy Mike over at Okiedoke finally got around to making another post on his blog. I know, I know, that in itsself shouldn't be considered newsworthy, even if it is becoming a rarity, but the big deal is the nominations for the 2008 OKIES has been opened to the public!!

This is great news, because a year or so ago I was nominated for my Y2K Survivor blog that was hosted by the now defunct AOL Journals. Mike and Britt and Avitable and a few others (every-freakin-body) encouraged me to move to a new host (Called me a dumbass) but none of them, except Mike, is allowed to vote because somebody got all, "There has to be RULES!" on us:

Only Okie bloggers with active Okie blogs are eligible to nominate and vote. “Active” is defined as having at least one blog post during the last 60 days of 2008. An “Okie blog” is defined as having at least one blog author residing within the state of Oklahoma.

That means that the International appeal of Opprobrious means nothing in this competition. It is simply backwoods mano-a-mano. Several men enter the competition ring and only one man remains! Yes it is the Thunderdome of the blogosphere and Mike is Tina Turner... kind of loud, abrasive and dressed way inappropriate for his age. The last time I was in this death match I was pummeled and beaten without mercy by the ruffian known as Redneck Diva. But that was last year, this year I ain't no Okie Blogger Awards virgin! That's right, I am the survivor of hard fought, bloody battle of political TV ads during football season! I can now pave the way to my landslide victory with the skills I gained from long hard hours of taking naps between beer commercials. I can start whisper campaigns and offer accusations without merit or foundation!

Redneck Diva is soft on crime!! She just doesn't understand Oklahomans!

Better yet, I can say:

Did you know that in 2006 a Wal-Mart checker in Sands Springs said he/she thought denying gay marriage was the same as denying civil rights. AND Redneck Diva never confronted the manager of the store and had the clerk fired nor organized a protest to shut down that store's business. Redneck Diva just doesn't have Oklahoma values.

Oh yeah baby! The gloves are off! You are SO going down!!

Now if I could just lure people to this new blog so they could read my attack ads....

Bush Legacy

So the news feeder I read has been talking about the Bush legacy and how the Bush camp has been claiming old Dubya is NOT the worst President that ever sat in the White House. It is unimaginable that there can be ANY excuse, spin or party loyalty that can save this disaster of the past eight years.

Now that all of the politicking and party games have ended, anybody with a brain knows this loser was bad for America and bad for the world. Facts can be found here, here and here. Oh sure we could go out and find more, but why? The guy rode to power by berating others and starting false rumor campaigns. He manipulated the American people by playing to their faith and then he failed to fulfill their promises.

But Google News is reporting that after Laura saw the world has labeled her semi sobered up figurehead as a bigger loser than his Daddy, she set the dogs loose. And by dogs, I mean none other than the master manipulator Karl Rove.

So now for some fun. How would YOU spin this to say that Bush was a national hero and not a total clusterputz?

"He showed the world that absolute corporate deregulation creates the ultimate economic parity." In other words, we are all broke.

"He forged a stronger bond with an emerging Chinese nation that resulted in the largest global economic shift in history." They now own us.

"He redefined civil rights around the world." Removed habeas corpus and endorsed torture.

"He was a modern day Robin Hood. He took from the wealthy welfare recipients and gave to the poor corporate welfare recipients.

He redefined Texas Oilman

ok ok what have you got? How would YOU play Karl Rove and spin that mess?

No Gamblin Man

OK I have always said I do not like to gamble. So for the past two days I have been ass deep in No Limit Texas Hold 'Em tournaments. Dad came for his Holiday visit, where he restrained himself from the casino on Christmas night, but we played two tournaments on Boxing Day. Then today we played another tournament and then spent what seemed like several hours in a cash game.

I went because my Dad likes to play poker and he doesn't have anybody to go play with him. I don't like to gamble and technically I never did. Dad paid for everything, even the buy in for the cash game. Then all I had to do was play cards. All of the games we were in allowed "re-buys." I never went for a re-buy. I was also never a real threat to anybody. I can play cards, I am probably an average card player, but I am no where near the league of a good card players.

So I did ok for never studying the game. Maybe too good. Dad now wants me to start going to local tournaments every weekend so I can hone my skill and we can make a real team. But... I don't like to gamble. And... I don't think I want to change the way I feel about it. As it is, I am willing to go with my Dad and play cards. I would play cards with just about anybody, and have always enjoyed a good game, of any kind. Only, I choose not to gamble, because all things considered, I don't like it.

I have always heard you should never gamble what you can't afford to lose. As a tight-ass bastard in good standing, I have NEVER felt I could afford to lose a freakin thing! EVER!

So there you have it. My long weekend of gambling debauchery has come to an end and I remain as always, too cheap to enjoy myself.

What's Your Plans this New Year's Eve?

One Martini, Two Martini, Thud

OK so last night Mrs. Cris opens up one of the presents I got her. A little bar set for making cocktails. We have been hanging out with friends who are into cocktails, and while we are not much in the way of drinkers, it seems like a topic where we need a bit of schooling.

Oh, and Mrs. Cris swears the gift was really for me and not for her! The nerve!

So as soon as she was finished bitching about me getting her a gift meant for me, I opened the boxed set and pulled out the surprise ingredients I had been hiding for Appletinis. Now I was going by memory and I am terrible with numbers, so I couldn't remember if it was 2 ounces of Vodka to one ounce of Sour Pucker schnapps and one ounce of apple juice, OR 2 oz Vodka, 2 oz of Schnapps and one Apple Juice OR... well, you get the picture.

So there I am trying to figure out the secrete combination. The first drink was way too strong, says Mama Bear. So I down it and go back to the mixing counter. The second one, with equal parts of vodka, schnapps and apple juice seemed really good. And in hindsight I probably should have stopped there. But let me tell you a little story about men and they way they think:

When I was in college learning how to be an excellent educator and shaper of young minds (a career I have never actually worked)I was in a methods class, teaching you how to engage students to learn about Science. So the old Prof had batteries on a table, a long wire and a light bulb. He had us hold the wire from one battery post to another and then hold the flashlight bulb on the top of the connecting wire. EUREKA! We created a small flashlight.

Like little kids we played with the new toys (I was in my 30s at the time) and we were really enjoying ourselves when the old Prof instructed us to add a 2nd battery. You would have thought he had told us the secrete to cold fussion. Silently, with intent looks on our faces, more than a few of us biting the tip of our tongue in concentration, we held two batteries together, with the wire going from negative to positive and when we held the flashlight bulb to the tip the light was twice as bright!

It was the most amazing thing us non traditional, straight A, super nerds had ever seen! Now when the experiment started, somehow I was in a group of all guys. I don't know how this happened since in Education, about 90% of all participants are girls. I loved college! But in this case it was a table of us guys all marveling at the brighter bulb. And then, as if of one mind and body we all started working together to add extra hands and construct our very own SUPER FLASHLIGHT! We started with three batteries and then added a fourth and then.... the bulb blew out.

The old prof had been watching us the entire time, waiting for the inevitable. He laughed, making sure the rest of the class saw the group of stupid guys with dead bulbs. Then he told the class that regardless of the age, girls will sit around and discuss how cool the experiment worked, but boys will always try to take it to another level until they blow out the bulb.

Now with that in mind, it might be easier to understand why I went back and tried to recreate the second Appletini recipe. Did I mention I was not good with numbers? Was it 2V,2S and 1 juice? What the hell, let's just make it and see how it tastes!

And THAT is why I woke up with a headache on Christmas morning 2008. God Bless us, everyone.

No Time Like The Presents

Hey I am going to have company here at North Pole, Oklahoma. I might not be around much for the remainder of the week. Christmas is all about family togetherness, which probably explains the huge spike in alcohol consumption this time each year.

Have a Merry Christmas!

Making a List, Checking it Twice

The list. No, I mean THE list. A year or so ago a woman came to my office with her list of people she had slept with. It was a result of a conversation we had while traveling to another state. At that time she had revealed she had been with around 50 guys. She went on and on about how she was horrible, but not really because she had only been with an average of two guys a year since her divorce 25 years ago. "That's not really all that bad is it?"

This then turned into a competition of sorts as others compared their list. Another girl in the group was much younger, and had a total score of around 30. There were several naming a single partner and most in the single digits. I was a little uncomfortable in the discussion because I am very competitive and yet was defeated before I even got out of the starting gates... not that that's a problem for me! Honest!

Then a few days later, the woman who started the discussion showed up at my office with a list of about 15 names and about 35 blanks, or names she could'nt remember since they were mostly one night hook ups. Followed by demanding that I never, ever tell anybody about the names on the list. So, why make one and show it to me?

Then she went around town and told everybody she had made a list and I had it with all of the names on it... which wasn't true. If she had told me to never share it or keep it, I didn't need another piece of paper floating around, so I threw it away. I really didn't see the need in keeping it.

All the time I am asked if I think she is awful. How am I supposed to answer that? Why would I think she was awful based on how many people she chose to randomly sex up? Did I feel less of her for having so many she could not remember names (only coloring and size :::shudder:::)?

In time the talk about THE list turned to other, less stressful topics. But now that there is time to look back and reflect, is it normal to keep a mental list? Is it unusual to forget names, even after a quarter of a century or longer? I have to admit after 30 years I am not so sure who would be on my list. Maybe I should go to Classmates.com and start calling the hot chicks from high school and ask them if we actually had sex or if I just thought about it a lot. A whole lot.

First Christmas Revisited

So we gathered, we ate, we played, we opened presents and we played some more. There were many special moments, as there always are when we can gather an expanding family together. I got some special bonding time with new family members.


And I got to display my carefully cultured look of professionalism. Please note the belly hanging out from under the sweater. A sweater I KNOW covered the full monty only a couple of washings ago!

And YES if you are wondering. I am about to get an opprobrious Christmas gift.

Travelin Man

So my buddy over at D-USA made this map of where he had been in the US of A. I think he is a bit more worldly than I... mainly because he has been to real foreign countries rather than Canadian and Mexican border towns. However, I have braved Tijuana twice and was not kidnapped for money nobody would pay, nor forced into the white sex slave industry. Bummer. ANYhooo Here is a bit of an exaggerated map of where I have been and probably left a bit of urine there to remember me by.

Make yours @ BigHugeLabs.com

The First Christmas

I know, I know, by looking at the title you think I am going to wax all philosophical about the birth of Jesus and go all Midwestern Religious nut case on you. And if you were going by context clues, Short, fat, bald man, with no real education in religion, living in Oklahoma.... then you would have valid reasons to think that way. Then again, if you ever read this freakin blog, you might know, Opprobi don't roll that way.

No, I tend to keep religious beliefs to myself and stray away from as many nut cases that dominate the ext reams on either end of the spectrum. AND THEN I BECAME A FATHER OF CHILDREN. I know, I know, all those holier than thou wingnuts told me I was setting the stage for disaster if I don't beat the fear of God into my wee little ones. Instead I focused on respect, honesty and hard work.

I figure I am not an expert on Algebra or Religion, but I made sure my children went to the places where they would learn about both. I am not real comfortable around zealots, and I really wouldn't want that for my kids, but a strong moral foundation is important. And the Judea Christian faith is based on morals (10 commandments, turn the other cheek, only throw rocks at hookers if you never bought a BJ etc) so how could a guy go wrong there? Right?

OK, I never suspected that my own personal bias would effect my kids. When asked about religion I would tell my kids it was personal, and they needed to decide for themselves what they believed. Their mother took them every week to the church I was a member of, but had stopped attending due to personal conflicts. Who knew my daughter would grow into the same moral conflict?

So for years we talked about switching churches. Last Easter we checked out a less politically driven congregation. At least they were skewed more towards our personal beliefs. It felt right. It felt good. And we have all joined, as members, in the past several month... all except one. My daughter is still a hold out, but she willingly goes, she participates in Sunday School, she leads in prayers, and I think she is accepted and loved by our little church. But she refuses to join because you are asked if you believe Jesus is your savior who died on the cross. Did I mention I stressed respect and honesty all her life? Damnit!

So tonight, we celebrated the first of several family Christmas gatherings. We had a great time of gifts, food and laughter. For the record, the memorable moment was "Your cousin is riding on your new tricycle... and he is NOT wearing pants!" Later, after we had all reluctantly hugged and started the long drive home, my cousin called me. The father of the little boy without pants. We talked about my nephew and his tattoos, piercings and eventually his religious beliefs.

"He seems very proud that he is an atheist," I told my cousin. "It seems the cool thing right now to say atheist or agnostic."

"Really!" my cousin said, in more of a judgment than a question. My cousin is nine years younger than I am, he is an attorney in Oklahoma City and he is a very devout Catholic and family man. He seemed hurt and insulted when I told him about my nephew. Finally after he thought about it for a bit he said, "Hey, tell your nephew if he doesn't believe in Christ he needs to give me my Christmas presents back."

Where I Pass Along Some Christmas-time Good Mojo

Yes children, always remember Santa's advice and never fornicate with one of the Special little creatures of the Holiday season, unless you have plenty of protection.

Out Late Saturday Night

Look an my buddy had a birthday. There were steaks eaten, alcohol drank and cards played. We had a good time and not once did I think about getting home to post this blog before midnight. Is THAT so wrong?

Please check out our Tee-Shirt Store on the sidebar. Yes it is well past time to Save the Va-Jay-Jays or Save the Hooters, but it is never too late to catch Ball Lickingman Fever! I also added a seasonal Tee-Shirt for the Holidays.

Now of you will scuzzze me, I need to go to bed. My family has been asked to light the Advent Candle. I don't know what it means and it could result in a some ugly Presbyterian hazing before the day is ended. In spite of all that I am still looking forward to tomorrow because my Cousins are coming home for the day with all of their little kids and we get to open presents!!!

Last year, my Uncle got each of his grandchildren, down to age one, Official Red Rider B.B. gun air rifles. Just like in a Christmas Story... only his son the attorney has 5 children and his daughter the designer has three. I had SO MUCH FUN watching somebody else be in big trouble!

Advent Nightmare

So we have been going to this new church since Easter. We missed maybe a couple of Sundays in the past 9 or so months. We really enjoy it, both my wife and son are in choir, my daughter is enjoying Sunday School even if she feels she needs to dress like a hooker. But this month my daughter has also served as the liturgist and this week the whole family has been asked to light the Advent Candle. Needless to say, I have been having a nightmare or two about it.

Fuckadoodle

OK I don't have much here. I was in a meeting today when one of the sweetest, funniest chicks I work with got all misty over her best buddy. Seems her BFF took another job and was greatly missed. This sweet, wonderful woman could get very frustrated in dealing with the total headache that is the social services game and at times of high stress, this chick, who seemed so sweet sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth, would scream "Fuckadoodle!"

Now I am consumed with curiosity. What does it mean? Is it like "Cluster fuck?" You know, where all about you is suddenly so screwed up there is no way to save the day. Or, is it just a general curse word you scream when frustrated, like "Shoot, Nuts, or kah-kah?"

Then parts of my twisted mind start picturing some type of Pixar animated character named Fuckadoodle. He looks a lot like that chicken in Rockadoodle, only with a 1970s porn mustache. Then my eyes roll back into my head and I am in nirvana brain candyland as I hear Quentin Tarantino-esque old drive-in movie teasers with the over modulated sound crackling through the metal speakers handing from your car window. (You probably had to be born prior to 1970 to know what the hell I am talking about there)

Roll the 70s porn, B movie, action flick music.

Announcer: ON the farm life is all about the birds and bees.

Scene: Chicken pulling a big worm out of the ground (erotic look)

Announcer: But farm survival is all about the survival of the fittest. And the baddest Cock on the walk is about to strut his stuff

SCENE: A Henhouse with pretty white chickens in shelf like, straw filled nests.

The announcer: When Fuckadoodle is around all the chicks are laying.

SCENE: Hens have excited looks as they lay eggs and flee the nest. (Slo-Mo shot of falling egg would be good)

End music with classic 1970s want-ta want-ta wow sound.

Scene with rolling credits: Fuckadoodle strutting around the hen house yard

Making the Grade

So I go check out this lazy fucker over here, and he is all about "Oooh! Look how freakin cool I am because people like ME and not Cris because I am all cool and he isn't! So he does a reading test and finds out his blog is written on an elementary school level. HAHAHA I took the same test and came out WAY more literate. Which had me feeling pretty good until I clicked his link to see how much this amazing blog is worth.

Fucker.

Do you realize how much more time I spend on this blog than I do my marriage? Hey that might explain my love life!


Your Blog is worth $0.00 It is a total loser

OK OK you are just going to have to trust me here. It said my readers are WAYYYYYY smarter than Avitable's readers because THEY read on a college (post grad) level. But HIS readers are only on an Elementary reading level. And I have to say I agree! I read his stuff everyday so I should know!

Oh yeah, and the link he sent me to seems to be some kind of CIA tracking device that will pop up on your screen and waterboard your Explorer programs.... so I deleted it because one of Myyyyy S M A R T readers figured out old Avitable was about to get us all tossed in Gitmo!

Bad Paintshop Santa

Is This Media Bias?

I ran onto this article on AOL. It was featured as one of the news teasers they have on a scrolling headline. It was called, Dick Cheney Takes Parting Shots. Now here is the problem, I believe news needs to be unbiased, but then again the news has the responsibility to flag bullshit to the reader. So is this media bias or responsible reporting about the rantings of a Dick on a show ran by a douchebag?

Dick Cheney Takes Parting Shots
By Jay Allbritton
Dec 15th 2008 10:03PM
Filed Under:eIraq, Dick Cheney, Terror, Obama Administration


During Dick Cheney's interview with ABC's Jonathan Karl, the vice president disagreed with Karl Rove's statement last week that if pre-war intelligence indicated Iraq did not have weapons of mass destruction the United States would not have gone to war. Cheney argued that we would have gone in, saying, "[Saddam Hussein] had a long reputation and record of having started two wars. Of having brutalized and killed hundreds of thousands of people, some of them with weapons of mass destruction in his own country."

Cheney also told ABC that Guantanamo Bay's detention camp should remain open until the end of the War on Terror. He said he did not know when that would be. Terror, incidentally, has been in existence... forever.

Cheney expressed doubts that President-elect Barack Obama will close the camp or give up any of the broadened authority Cheney fought to bring to the executive branch. Cheney told Rush Limbaugh, "Once [the Obama administration] get[s] here and they're faced with the same problems we deal with every day, then they will appreciate some of the things we've put in place."

Of waterboarding, Cheney said that he supported the process of getting it cleared. He called waterboarding, "a remarkably successful effort, and I think the results speak for themselves." Actually, they don't, since we have no idea what information waterboarded detainees have provided.

Cheney's farewell media push culminates with an hour long interview on Fox News Sunday.

Home News

I have been wondering about doing another link post about things that are news to me. There was the great story about how the FCC pussied out on allowing free high speed internet access. But today I want link to another kind of news story.

A month or so ago I posted a cartoon music video about a song that was HUGE when I was a little kid. Well to be honest music has always been huge to a certain age set. Back when I was about 11 or so I would ride my bicycle over to the record store. The little shop was on the oldest block in town, a few doors down from the bank, across the road from the hugely popular Newberry's Department Store and just up the street from J.C. Penny's.

The record store itself was like a treasure for impressionable and unattended youth like myself. It was laid out in tiers so that once inside the doors you had to climb up levels of record displays and bins of vinyl discs of musical goodness. Yes this was just before the modern wonder that was 8 track tapes, a generation before CDs and a lifetime prior to the Sci-Fi bullshit thought of Blue tooth.

A week was not complete that did not include a trip to the old record store. Where minty fresh LPs promised a glimpse into the cool and hip world of rock and roll. Names like Grand Funk, BTO, and CCR ruled this small rural treasure.

The old record shop closed decades ago. As the years passed I never fail to glance over at the different businesses that have filled the gap left in my life. Finally a flower shop was in that old multi-tiered space. I can't even imagine what the designers had in mind in making a multi-layered store, nor how the business had escaped ADA accessibility standards. But the different levels still remained when I went in the old building last Spring, asking the owners to place cards on prom corsages that remind teens to not drink and drive.

While the old J.C. Pennys and Newberrys folded their tents not long after the record store went out of business, the old buildings remained as monuments to the safe haven that used to be my home town. In an aging community that is now more recognized for the empty lots downtown that denote the once stellar building sites in this gem of an ancient oil baron's hay day. These old stores now seem to belong more to the people in the community that have lived here for generations. Where residents have watched the old town slowly turn from splendor to ruin.

Time finally caught up with my old record store. Today that building burned to the ground. ON the other hand you can see my office from the footage shot by the News helicopter!

Buttoned Inn

The first ice storm of the season is here. Clinking and tinkling on the metal cover of our chimney. I have my supply of seasoned firewood covered and dry in our new wood shed. We have the freezers stocked with food and I have about 4 large 2 liter bottles of Fresca.

I feel like Lt. Dan from Forrest Gump defying God to give me his best shot. "Is THAT all you have?!!"

I don't know why there is still, even at my advancing age, a level of excitement and energy as a winter storm blows into town. My son is bouncing off the walls, filled with the prospect of a 3, 4 or maybe even a 5 day weekend of snow days. I have to admit I am just as bad. Not that I feel that way about work, sheeesh I worked all weekend on the computer from home. No, if work needs to be done, I can't seem to keep away, but still its exciting.

And ok... maybe I WOULD like to sleep in late, under a big pile of covers and lounge around the house as long as possible. I love winter lounging where you can blame complete and total laziness on the weather. Oh yeah... the weather dude just said during the break from the Giants/Cowboys football game... We are having THUNDER SLEET!! COOL!!

BRADFORD WINS THE HEISMAN!!

Cancer

Serious as cancer man. That's the old saying to denote you mean business. As serious as cancer! Sure for a brief time it was a heart attack, but come on, people get heart attacks all the time on TV and survive. ... but cancer? That's serious!

A few years ago the local Health Departments started telling us that our little girls should have HPV shot. Some kind of a cootchie bug or virus that gives chicks Hoo-Hoo Cancer. But come on dude, what are the real chances anybody I know is going to get cancer of the naughty parts? Right?

Well ok, so I tend to err on the side of caution. Even though the local bible thumpers were saying if I let my itty bitty 12 year old get a HPV shot I was giving her the thumbs up to wild multi partnered sex sex sex. On the other hand, reason tells me she is her mother's daughter and probably has very little interest in THAT topic!

But what the hell, we took her to the Health Department because the shots were free and she took her three rounds of medicine and not once did the nurses tell her that her Hoopty-Do was open for business. And I appreciate that parental support I get from the abortion mongering public health people.

But not everybody is that lucky. I have heard of three people this year that did not get the shot and now have cancer way down there. One of a beloved Opprobrious commenter. Another is a community partner and the third, we just learned, is the sister of my daughter's best friend.

Look I am not preaching and I know this is not Save the Va-Jay-Jay month, but really.. if you have little girls go get the HPV shot before they become sexually active. There is a bug out there that is killing people or destroying the future we all hoped would happen to the children we love. So in closing, don't be an asshole! Take your little girls down to the local Health Department and get the free freakin shots. It's that simple.

Big Day

So it's been a big day towards the end of a big week. I finally was hired for the job I have been doing since July, so the pay will start with the new year. Yeah... don't think about the uncompensated effort, move forward and work to build a better program every day. It should be fun. I should be excited. But in truth, I am tired and a bit stressed with the added responsibility. I guess it's all part of growing up, even when you are pushing 50.

I got in tonight and ate dinner, watched a bit of Bears/Saints then logged on at half time. I checked the work Email and saw one of Boards I sit on needed help. I emailed my apology for being away and not able to pitch in, then I called the agency and talked to the director. She said they were just finishing and there was no need for me to come down. "...but tomorrow starts early, see ya then!"

I have been working on a community program for about 6 months and I think it is about to blow up due to divisive factions within the community. I was appointed, voted, sacrificed Chairman of the committee last week. I think I will suggest scuttling the program, return the seed money and we all go home. I hope the group will come together for the common good. Ifg they do not and they choose to not walk away, I will demand we move back the time line, drop each of the competing factions from the steering committee and allow each of them to submit a full proposal, with budget, work plan, goals and mission statement ... along with a sustainability plan.

At that point we should ask the funders to sit in on a selection committee and plan for a real program next fall. As far as plans go, it sucks ass, but when community partners decide to work against each other rather than for the common good you end up with something sucky. And the main problem here is, I am way too nice of a guy to want to force this issue.... but we have some bad plans that will get kids hurt, or create a liability problem that could leave MY ass hanging out in the wind. I guess if you put me at risk by asking me to accept responsibility, I can't afford to be a nice guy.

You know what...? I don't use enough sick days! That's my problem, I should call in sick way more often!!

My Boating Adventure Got Me Thinking....

Ship Wreck

Garrr deep in the calm still waters of Oklahoma thar be a mighty sailboat called the Opprobrious. (spelled correctly) It stands 22 foot long and is as sound as the day it popped out of the fiberglass mold. The ship became legend along Banyan Road where neighbors would drive by daily and exclaim, "When's that freakin redneck going to get that boat out of his front yard and into the water?"

Rumors began to spread that Cap'n Opprobrious might be Hydrophobic, not with rabies, as is most common in these here waters, but the fear of drowning. The locals would stop and taunt him, "Daddy's afraid of the water! Daddy's afraid of the water!"

And the gruff old salt would cuss and ground and stump around on his two good legs while complaining of a ruptured disc and the pain of a bad back. All to no avail. The taunts continued, the neighbors continued to cast names and the boat never moved. Not by trailer, and not by water.

Then on December 9, 2008 everything changed. The Mighty Opprobrious finally got wet! Then when finally awash in water and set loose in the very environment it had been yearning it's mighty but broken little boat-heart to conquer... the tiny ship struck aground. It was quickly swamped in water and it sank to the bottom.

And THAT'S exactly how I found it when I got home tonight. A rain squall had blown in a winter storm. The rain fell so quickly the little drain could not empty the cockpit fast enough and finally the weight on the trailer shifted and the boat tipped backwards on the trailer, driving the little boat motor propeller into the soft, wet turf.

Tonight I had to bail out the cockpit of a sailboat that hasn't seen water in over a year. It was swamped by rain. When it was bailed enough to tip back right, I found the drain was plugged by ice, which needed to be broken. And now I wonder, how freakin lousy of a sailor am I that I wreck my boat in my front yard when the only water around is rain?!

And Just Like That, It Was Over

The final credits rolled. Sure it was predictable, sure it was hokey, sure it lacked realism... but that was kind of the point. After all day of facing reality and bills and deadlines. Being told by others what I am allowed to do or not to do... facing a world filled with injustice and nobody left to fight for the good and the right. The last thing I wanted was realism! I needed to see the little guy win in a corporate controlled America. We needed hope.

And then there was Boston Legal. From Shatner's growl of "Denny Crain" to Spader's well written rants against the windmills of today's society, I loved Boston Legal. I loved the total embrace of all things Repuglican by Mad Cow Denny. I loved the inexplicable fixation on 200 year old Murphey Brown. I loved the hop, skip and purr of Jerry Espinsen. I loved it all.

And what's more, my kids loved it. For years my daughter has said her real love in life is "Denny Crain!" My son, who only seems to watch Asian based cartoons, will turn off a video game to come watch Boston Legal with his parents. Even my wife will leave her TV-less sanctuary in the Living room to join us in the den so she can watch, laugh and eventually fall asleep while watching Boston Legal.

Tonight it aired the final show. The last episode we wanted to see, but could never miss. Denny and Alan ended up, as always, with drinks and cigars in hand on the balcony celebrating the best TV bromantic comedy. And then, just like that, the show was over.

D DAY

So I never meant for it to work out like this. I mean it, I thought all I had to do was pop into the store, buy a TV and go home and hook it up. Seemed pretty simple in my mind. But you know the saying, those who fail to plan, plan to fail. I should have made a game plan.

As you know, Thursday I was half way across the state at a meeting in Stillwater, home of the Holiday Bowl bound Oklahoma State Cowboys (YEAH!!). So I go in my favorite Pistol Pete Wal Mart and decide since Mrs. Cris is with me, NOW would be a good time to get that TV we talked about for the Holidays. BONUS: It would be hooked up in time for the Big 12 Championship game between Mizzou and Oklahoma University!!

So Saturday we get up and encourage Ms. Cris to leave the house. Then Crissy and I begin to clean out her corner of collected crap. We have to wait until she is gone or she will make us stop and nothing will get done. It took all day! Finally we clean out her corner, and we move the old entertainment center into my bedroom. We hook up speakers and DVD and VCR. We have everything working and Satellite Christmas music fills my bedroom while I secretly imagine 32 inch porno. Hey we all have dreams! Don't you judge me!

Then we move all the furniture in the Den and scoot the old antique dresser over by the fireplace and finally we are able to take the monster out of the box. We hoist up the giant 42 inch plasma screen TV and plug it directly into the satellite feed. Time is running out, the Big 12 starts at 7:00 pm but we have to go hand out candy for our church at a local parade... so we really have to hurry. We set it up, make sure it gets a signal and rush out to do the parade thing.

When we get back, the game has already started, we missed part of the first quarter but all is good. The TV shines bright and all is good with the world... until we notice that the store display TV had some image burned into the screen. As Sam Bradford was leading the Sooners to the Big 12 Championship and the the chance to play for the National Championship we can clearly see menu settings like: START SET UP PLAY across the bottom of the screen and a huge line at the top. The TV was ruined!!

So I never intended to spend all day Sunday, while the Cowboys played the Steelers, at the store trying to exchanged my ruined 42 inch plasma screen TV for one that was not ruined. But I did. I spent my entire weekend trying to hook up a new TV. It was nothing like the little plan I had in my little head.

You know the worst thing? As we waited in line at the service desk, for the third time, I kept telling Jr, "The Cowboys and Steelers should be about through the first quarter by now."

"It's just killing you to have to wait, isn't it? he asked with a smirk.

It was!! It was killing me!! Only a few more weeks of football left then the long dry season! Now is when it is real interesting and I was missing it to wait in line time after time at a service counter for a TV I already paid $700 for, but have yet to enjoy. So we get home, hook up the TV, turn on the last half of the game 3-0 Cowboys... and I kind of fell asleep and missed it.

Season of Wonder

Living in Hell

OK OK OK maybe the title is a bit of an exaggeration but it's all Mrs. Cris's fault. Last night we bought a 42 inch Plasma screen TV. It is not for video games (which would benefit more from an LCD) but for movies and TV and when the wife and kids are away... porn! But now, 24 hours later the freakin thing still sits in it's box because Mrs. Cris has a pile of crap in the corner of our bedroom where our old 32 incher will go... complete with the old entertainment center.

You might think the prospect of watching McDreamy on a tube a full six inches larger than the old one would be enough to persuade. But trust me, there is nothing you can offer that is around six inches that will get her excited. ...well, I can't at least.

So there is sits in a box, protected by huge Styrofoam corners, which makes the TV seem like it will be even bigger! It sits there still, taunting me, mocking me, making me wish I have never heard the cursed name Lenore (Poe'd you!) And I crawl into my computer room and blog and blog while gnashing my teeth and counting down the hours to the Big 12 Championship with OU ranked #2 in the Nation and on the brink of another National Championship... or big bowl nosedive.

Yes my friends, this is hell. Hell on steriods. This is the vision of torture most foul. Sure waterboarding sucks, but not if you get some good TV tubing later. Me... I get to sit and look at a box.

Defiant of Consumerism

I don't know if it is age or a natural inclination towards frugality (cheap ass bastard) but I seem to be more and more defiant of consumerism. When cell phones came out, I was against owning one. It was near impossible for me to grasp how they would bill and I still wonder about the advantage of my current $120 a month plan compared to my $22 plan I had with the home line.

Oh even before that I couldn't grasp the advantage of a computer. A techno geek of the early 80s would rant on and on about how they saved time. They will balance your check book and pay bills. I told him I already balanced my checkbook and paid my bills and it looks like with a computer I would just be doing it several times over and over. It wasn't until I was told you can type a document and correct as you type it, or go back weeks later and change it without having to retype that I saw a practical use. And to be fair... that is still 99% of the function I use my computer.

I have been resistant to CDs, MP3, DVDs, and I don't even understand what a blue ray is... but I am pretty sure it's what killed Steve Irwin. My Grandparents bought an old console Television set and kept it until the day they died. Giant black and white monsters in beautiful cabinets. Sure the TVs stopped working back in the 1960s, but they made wonderful TV stands for the small color TV's they placed on top.

So while I seem to be embracing my grandfatherly demeanor, I can't say it is due to age, since I was that way about the ludicrous proposal that cassette tapes would one day replace 8 track. Preposterous! Any fool could see an 8 track tape was a continuous loop of music where as a Cassette had to be flipped like those old archaic LPs.

Well maybe I have a couple of giant cases of Cassette tapes stored by our boxes of old LPs out in the barn. Maybe I have a cell phone plan and every member of my house now has their own phone. OK so I caved about the computer and the DVD player. Maybe I have my own MP4 with all old fucker music. OK in the past I have caved! I folded like cheap hooker on the curb side. But here I draw the line. From this point on I am embracing my inner old fart and refusing to progress any further.

Just as soon as the boy and I set up our brand new 42 inch plasma screen so the DVR and satellite is working properly. And THIS time I mean it!!

History Depot

Back at the beginning of the last century the automobile was hitting mass assembly lines, Henry Ford was considering interchangeable parts, and Oklahoma was hoping to grow up to be a real state like Kansas or Arkansas. There were a couple of problems with this wish, the land was full of Indians run out of the Eastern part of the country by Andrew Jackson, the territory was full of criminals hiding from justice and that hanging judge Parker in Ft. Smith, and there was a sticky black goo that bubbled up all over the freakin place.

Surprisingly it was the black goo that ended up making the state known throughout the world. In fact, Tulsa still tries to claim the title "Oil Capital of the World." With money came law enforcement so eventually the criminals were run to ground and the Indians were displaced in just the right way. Economically.

Little towns around Tulsa began to spring to life. Glenpool is literally named for the pool of oil found in the glens south of Tulsa. As money rich men from back East came to suck the state dry of resources. Men by the name of Phillips, Skelly and J. Paul Getty walked the streets of my home town. They built refineries, built railroads, and made fortunes large enough to support their families until they needed to buy a Presidency... but that's another story.

One of the railroads they had built runs from Tulsa through Okmulgee County. Right along old highway 75, straight as an arrow. The railroad is still used heavily even today. Traffic is still stopped in these small rural towns while trains switch tracks, change loads, or wait for one to pass another. The trains still exist, the tracks are maintained but the old depots have long been forgotten.

Many local towns converted the old traditional train depots into city offices. They have the look and feel of olden times, preserving the nostalgia while providing space for community offices or events.

Back at the turn of the last century the Phillips brothers and Skelly Oil made sure the trains ran through Okmulgee County. Now, 100 years later those companies have moved on to greater, more important things, like Iraq. The refinery is gone and the wells are dry The old refinery whistle that used to blow at 7:30 and 8:00 each morning, at noon and 1:00 then at 5:00 every evening is silent. When I was a kid you set your life by that whistle. It could be heard in every corner of the town and every parent knew it because their childhoods had been ruled by that whistle. A sound my children will never hear. A security none of us will ever feel again.

At the top of the hill of the historic downtown Okmulgee Main Street is the old depot. It is dark and dilapidated. People have tried to build nicer, newer buildings around it to hide the old embarrassment. Then the renovation of depots started and the City got all excited and decided they too wanted to renovate their historic turn of the century depot built by the Phillips Brothers and the Skelly family. Only the City couldn't actually prove they owned the damn thing.

So they contacted the railroad company, which now has it's own real estate business division, to rent off or sell old railroad properties. The Railroad said they would be willing to work on the situation but then the Muscogee-Creek Nation Tribal Government said that in all truthfulness, THEY were the real owners of the old crumbling building.

So another year ticks by and a few more bricks fall and shatter. The building is not even recognizable from the photograph above. It sits as an unofficial shelter for bums, hobos and gangbangers. It is the unspoken symbol of our community. A rich heritage that is squandered by little men with petty goals that would rather see rot and decay than progress and hope.

Orgasmic

OK I want to quickly mention the orgasmic power of a good wiz. I know, I know, that just sounds gross and crude. But every morning I go to work where I sit behind a desk and power down two or three travel mugs of hot coffee. Sure I motor between offices and work on a myriad of issues but all the time I am pounding most of a full pot of coffee into my bladder.

Everything is all good until about 11:00 am. At this time the laws of physics can no longer be ignored and I am suddenly, out of the blue... surprisingly... faced with the need of an URGENT trip way down the hall, to the other end of the building, to the only men's room on my floor. The door is always locked. I have to use a key to enter.

Have I ever told you about my office building? It was built back in the art deco days of the 1920s. It was erected as a shrine to the Masons and the old Masonic Lodge sits on the top (6th) floor. The basement is the old lodge dining hall and the door knobs all hold the ancient Masonic symbols. I am surrounded by Masons, and not one has asked me to join. Fuckers! The Masonic lease was made with the opening of the building and runs for 99 years. That lease is about to end. Yes, it is an old building.

A building that is lined with granite walls and marble floors. It is highlighted by massive crown molding and wrought iron. It is a manly building built at the height of American decadence by an old Oil Baron at the turn of the last century. It's pretty damn cool. But with old buildings there are a few problems.

The marble and granite halls are massive resonators to any office that has an open door. Staffing sessions and strategic planning meetings require a closed door or your discussions can be heard not just in the hallways, but on every floor. The other problem is the old locks and latches on the doors are faulty. So it takes a bit if finagling to get them open at times.

So, if you can imagine this middle aged fat boy with a bladder full of coffee shuffling down those marble halls, digging in my pockets for keys and fighting with the screwed up locks until I burst into the men's room and rush to the urinal. It is not until I notice I have released a loud blowing burst of air that I realize I have been holding my breath for an unknown amount of time in urgent anticipation of wetting my pants. As soon as I realize I am blasting out a deep, long held breath, I also ALWAYS seem to notice that the door leading to the men's room has not quite closed.

How many people in that freakin building hear this strange sound every day around 11:00 am? What's worse is the final release is so intense, so monumental at this point it takes all my will power to not follow the blast of held breath with a long drawn out moan of relief.

Every day these thoughts fall into place as I see that men's room door still hanging slightly open by the old pneumatic door closer. Every day I realize the pervy way I traveled down the hall with my short little arms stuck way down my deep pockets as I race for the men's room door. As I repaly the journey in my mind I also see in my minds eye one last vision... I am pretty sure I made a weird face. Yeah, I mean THE face.

Random Thoughts

I am in a play on Friday. I don't know any of the lines or cues. I can't seem to get motivated to learn this thing.

I woke up this morning and saw the Christmas lights were still on. It was clear Jr did almost everything he needed to do yesterday, and then forgot to hook up the little photo sensor timer. No big deal, I hooked it up before I left the house, then made sure to chew on the little boy about his "half assedness." I let him know that even though he failed to complete, again, I had the timer on and the lights will come on by themselves at dark and stay on til around midnight.

Tonight I drove up to the house in total darkness. When I checked the timer I realized I had accidentally turned the setting to "off." I hate it when that happens and your kid gets to taunt you about YOUR half assedness.

I found out today that nearly half of all high school seniors in my home county drink alcohol. And out of that group, nearly all of them (85%) report having had their last drink in a car. This is very bad. Shocking, alarming... it scares the crap out of me because my daughter will be a Senior next year, she is driving and she drives with my son. And in case you didn't do the math in your head... if nearly half of all Seniors are drinking and driving then it is only a matter of when (not if) a tragedy will take one of these kids. You are damn right I am scared.

ABC announced tonight that there are only two more episodes left of Boston Legal. Then Google News reports that William Shatner (77) already has a new job as a talk show host. Denny Crane!

Adam Avitable has not named me the winner of his Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD set yet. I thought the competition was over Sunday... but here I sit with my hands in my lap, eagerly awaiting some Willow Lesbian TV fare... HELLOOOO! What could be MORE deserving to win than that??

I really want to go on a rant about how not only Bush policies, but the MSM as a whole has failed this nation and the world. The news is now reporting the recession that the fear mongering "Liberals" were screaming about months ago, really did officially start a year ago. Now we are in the longest recession since 1982.. and moving in on the record that started back in October 1929.

I want to rant about how Fox double talk, (called News Entertainment) has excused and covered an inept if not outright corrupt administration. I want to demand justice. I want Foreign owned news organizations made illegal, I want sanctions and regulation on broadcasters... I want a country I can believe in once more. I have said it over and over... I want the same accountability you would expect from the commissioner of any major sports league. You know there is an old saying that goes: "If wishes were horses then beggers would ride... and if bullshit were biscuits we'd eat til we died." Unfortunately, this old proverb nearly came true.

I wish I was more organized and knew how to assemble these randoms thoughts into one smooth blog entry. Fat chance, huh?

The Problem With Bedlam Game Martinis

Changes

Yes I changed my banner a bit. Yes I have been missing more daily posts lately. Maybe I am living life more and retreating to my computer room less. Maybe I am more busy with the new job and I get tied up replying to emails or sharing information with my community partners. Maybe I stayed out too late drinking Orange colored alcoholic drinks while watching Oklahoma State quit in the fourth quarter... again.

On the other hand, B.F. Skinner says if you want to train an animal to do what you want, you should not reward them every time they give you the desired response. See, if you do that, the animal will only come for the treat and lesson is never learned. Skinner says to mix it up, give treats sometimes for the desired behavior, praise the desired behavior and scold any variation.

What... You think I am going to bitch that more people are not reading my blog so I can cash in on the gazillions of dollars other people make? Nawww, that's not me. I enjoy the game. I like the opportunity to share and maybe develop an improved writing skill.

As the year draws to an end I am sure there will be many tales of my growing children facing the holidays with a different outlook. My daughter is realizing her time as a child is nearly over and she feels the fear and anxiety that comes with losing the security of always having an older, wiser person in charge. My son is growing body hair and his voice is changing. He speaks more aggressively and is constantly telling his family members "I outta BEAT you!"

It's an age thing with him. His sister went through nearly the same thing at the same age. The nature of the beast, so to say. I try to deal with it as a caring and loving father and will often even turn down the volume on the TV before offering my sage advice, "You need to quit writing checks your butt can't cash!"

Such is life at the Opprobrious house. Endless days filled with love, wonder and growth... with the occasional threat of a 13 year old beating.

Bedlam

In other parts of the country the word Bedlam is something that reasonable, thinking individuals would avoid. In my home state we embrace it. We revel in it. It defines us and brings us together as a people, despite religious, political, or economic views. In Oklahoma Bedlam means football, and football means either Oklahoma University or Oklahoma State.

And on the longest weekend of the year, God has blessed us with two state teams in the top 15. We have OU with a real claim to being the best team in the nation and we have up and coming Oklahoma State with young Mike Gundy as coach. While 75% of the state's college educated population will attend an OSU school, 98% of the state roots for OU. The state, even OSU fans, love OU because OU is a football powerhouse. 364 days a year the entire state roots for the Crimson and cream, but on Bedlam blood runs thicker than water. Which means that three-fourths of the the 20% that got a college education will be decked out is ugly Orange, flying their fan flag and cheering State to ruin OU's bid at another national championship.

Tonight a group of us gathered in the Northern edge of the county around a tiny 64 inch TV screen and with little more than Cranberry martinis and screwdrivers (Red or Orange drinks) for protection, rooted for our teams and against each other. End result, my guys lost again, like almost always... but next year it will be different! Next year I'll find a real sincere pumpkin patch and I'll wait all night if I... sorry... I guess it's all the orange getting to me. But still... Wait until next year man... Next year!

A Day of Rest

So the boy and I started off hauling firewood. The girls went shopping so the house was still pretty trshed from Thanksgiving. Once the firewood was stacked and put away we hauled in the Christmas boxes and the empty Thanksgiving decoration boxes. We took down the old decorations and cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom.

I had my son put away all the clean dishes and told him I would clean the rest of the kitchen, which, trust me, is a huge mess after I have been cooking in it. WHen I say scrubbed it from top to bottom, I am not kidding. I am a bit of a mess. As soon as the boy finished his part, he was on the phone to his friends.

"Dude you gotta help me out here. I'm home alone with my Dad and he's in one of those WORK moods! You gotta let me stay over at your house, I can ride it out there and he will be back in his recliner once the football games start."

"What do you mean you are out of town?!! When will you be back? Do you hide an outside key I could use? He won't know, and I can just go in your room and play video games. ..... well then when will you be back? WHEN?!! Oh man, I gotta make some more calls! Bye."

So we brought all the storage boxes up on the porch but I would not let them in the house. The field mice had been all over them and I felt they smelled bad. That meant we would take the decorations out of the boxes and carry them into the house until the box was empty and can be returned to the storage building. About 12 hours after we started hauling firewood we were emptying the final box when the girls came home. The boy hitched a ride with them to some kid's house... I don't really care which one because honestly... I am beat!

A Day of Thanks

I know, I know there are always blogs that get all full of themselves as they feel the urge to spew out all the things that have blessed them for which they are thankful. That is not what this Holiday is about. It is about survival people. A bunch of freakin retards were abandoned in a harsh barren wilderness with nothing more than the bare essentials the crew of Gilligan's Island used to survive.

Only Gilligan could scurry his skinny drug addled ass up a coconut tree anytime he felt a hunger pang. The churchy do-gooders on the Mayflower had no Professor, no coconut trees and it was about to get so freakin cold the landing party was about to die. Only the kind act of the Native Americans saved them from total destruction. If they only knew then what they know now, huh?

Ever wonder why the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock? I read about this over a decade ago when I started working for Oklahoma State University. See the ship was looking for a good spot to land the Pilgrims. There was no love lost for them back in England, Bloody Mary was all about Catholicism or death. Catholics get that way... you have learn to give them space and some personal time and things usually cool off. It might help if you have a beheading or two of the people in charge but it is not always a prerequisite.

ANYhooo The Pilgrims were given the bum's rush off a perfectly good boat that could have easily sallied down the coast to the warmer, more fertile lands of Virgina or the Carolinas. The reason they Pilgrims were abandoned on a freakin rock, and yes my friends the ground was barren and rocky and not good for crops, the reason they were left to die in the cold north was written in the Mayflower Captain's log.

The Captain entered into his log that while he would like to continue looking for a suitable place to unload the passengers, his ship was running low on supplies, especially beer.

Yes, the true story behind Thanksgiving is the Pilgrams were dumped in a cold barren land where they could not possible survive because the Captain and crew of the Mayflower needed to make a beer run. And NOW you know the rest of the story.

Avitable's Contest

Not since Seinfield had a contest to see who could go the longest without wacking off has a guy wanted so desperately to win a friendly competition. See, Blogger Giant Adam Avitable has a contest. If you send a picture of yourself with his name written across your naked chest, or post in his comments of your favorite Buffy moment or make your Blog post all about his contest... you might win the full collection of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series. Oh yeah and if you do the thing in your blog about his give away you have to link back to Adam's blog.

Now my kids grew up watching Buffy. I liked the movie but loved the series. Didn't you love the episode where everybody lost their voice and the creepy guys from the Brother's Grimm Fairy tales came in take all the children?

Oh well, I really want to win that contest.. hope I don't look stupid trying though.

It's GO TIME Baby!!

Thirty-six hours to Turkey time and we are in full pre-host mode. We have already called my son's friends and made them cry and told them they could not even think about coming to our house until AFTER Thursday. We have created a fair dispersal of chores for each family member based on ability.

I will do a lot of cooking, my daughter will do a lot of cleaning. My son will say he is working but will keep showing up to ask stupid questions that never should be asked... If Clark Kent had diarrhea, wouldn't it cause the entire town's septic system to explode? Can Super poop even break down without a Kryptonite sewage system? Do parasites go to heaven when they die? Then is it really heaven if we still have bed bugs?

Mrs. Cris will again play to her strengths and take several naps then take full credit for how nice the house looks and how good the food tastes. My son will feel insulted for not being included in the credit for all the hard work.

I have set the Holiday beast to thaw. I have prepared the traditional electric roaster and have already baked a cake and a batch of peanut butter cookies. Unfortunately, as will happen at the Holidays... I have already eaten one batch of peanut butter cookies.

But the season is upon us! We will work like demons to clean and cook and clean again while thinking of Friday as the day of rest. There will be guilt about not wanting to brave the lines to Wal-Mart for the super day after sale, but we know after days of cooking and cleaning and in-house fighting we deserve a rest. Which will last until 11:00 a.m. and the call to erect the Christmas tree can no longer be ignored.

Soon... there will only be a few weeks left til Christmas and we only have so many free weekends available to put up trees, wrap packages, decorate the house, pay personal property taxes (bastards) and watch football. Like I said... IT's GO TIME BABY!!

Polls

AOL did one of those silly polls where they ask you to list the most and least noble professions. Out of the list provided, Nurses were the most noble profession, besting clergy and school teachers, while car salesmen were the scum of the Earth.

Now I have to admit I put lobbyist on the bottom rung of the ladder. I have to deal with them in my job. They write policy that allows kids access to alcohol and drugs and set up a life time of deadly addictions for profit. They are, in my opinion only worthy to be lined up and gut shot. Left in the hot baking sun to suffer in mortal pain for hours and hours. Hopefully, they will make use of that time to beg God forgiveness for not being of a sweet, kind of giving nature like myself. Bastards.

But then I thought about it, after I cast my vote. Let's face it, in my heart I was raised and will probably always be a conservative Republican... even if all the other Okies call me a flaming Liberal. But I got to thinking about it, and I don't think Lobbyists think of all the lives they ruin when they walk into a Congressman's office, smooze him/her with gifts and provide a pre written policy that creates greater profits for the company. I think they focus on the job. In most cases, when they are asking for seduced deadbeat credit card holders to be relegated to a lifetime of un payable debt, they are thinking of system abusers and divine justice. When they think of exclusive rights to life saving medicines, they are not thinking of the people who will go without due to unaffordable prices, they are focused on corporate rewards for the winning team.

A car salesman like you might find at DAVID STANELY FORD IN OKLAHOMA CITY on the other hand is really the scum of the Earth. They might tell a family an outright lie just to get them to drive all the way across a fucking state and THEN tell them the car they promised to hold... just had the engine fall out or the transmission seize up. Those guys know they are lying out of the box. They exist off of dishonesty.

So, like most Republicans SHOULD feel over the past eight years, I really regret the way I voted. I wish I could do it all over again, but it is too late and I will have to live with the consequences of making a bad choice. I just hope it doesn't effect you, my friends, in too negative of a way.

Malibu Stacy

Top Ten Stories of my New Car!!

10. It gets an average of 30 mpg
9. It has an on-board computer that tells me my average mpg as well as average speed, oil life, and what kind of music station I landed on.
8. It's freakin paid for baby!
7. It has loads of leg room in the back seat.
6. All my friends are jealous of how cheap I got it!
5. It has STUFF I can fiddel with on the steering wheel
4. I have been back home for two days and the computer says I am still averaging 52 mph (heh heh I am such a nerd for getting THIS tickled over that fact)
3. I finally (after 28 years) have a newer car than my wife
2. My Dad feels like a hero for having his friend buy it wholesale
And the Number one story about my new car is:

I met Mrs. Cris at Wal Mart to buy the Thanksgiving Day food. After about an hour of madhouse like congestion, I left her to check-out while I went to another grocery store across the street for the few items we could not find.

As I walked up to my new Fleet Silver 2007 Chevy Malibu I could see from the pedestrian crosswalk that there was a huge freakin ding in my door! I had parked away from other cars, in a spot where nobody should have been able to open a door into my door... and now there were no cars around at all... and I had a HUGE HONKIN DOOR DING!!

You can guess I am already pissed off as I am stomping up to my new 2007 Fleet Silver Chevy Malibu when things get worse. See, I had to go to the Chevy dealership here in town to have a spare key made. No big deal, I had keys made for my Caviler, they cost about a buck a piece at Wal mart. So I go to the parts counter and ask how much for a spare key.

Fourty-Five Freakin Dollars, the man said. OK... maybe my mind inserted the profanity as it was reeling from the sticker shock. When I asked if he was kidding I was told the new keys have an anti-theft computer chip in them to protect me from getting ripped off. The guy said he was protecting me from theft as he began to cut my new key. Which with tax... total cost.... FIFTY-TWO FREAKIN DOLLARS!!

I am pretty sure I did not just whisper that in my head at the dealership. I was using context clues like the security guys walking towards me and even the mechanics in the back stepping to the windows to watch the show.

OK I went there because I needed a new key and the light bulb in the reading lamp replaced. But if those bastards were going to charge $52 for a damn $1 spare key, I was NOT about to ask them to replace a $3 light bulb! I had also noticed the battery on the keyless entry was getting weak, but screw that! I can get a new battery anyplace but this clip joint.

Then I go to Wal Mart and meet Mrs. Cris and we do the shopping thing and then I see the door so you know how the mood swig is shifting. Then I pull out my keyless entry and I don't hear any click, no lights come on, no indication it is working. I hold it over my head, around my crotch, in my pocket, out like a fairy wand and as I walk closer and closer I realize I can't even see if the damn locks have popped up through the stupid tinted glass windows

I was just about to use the key to unlock the door. I mean my key was right at the tip of the keyhole when a sweet innocent voice inside my hear said with awe and crystal clarity... "But my new car doesn't have tinted windows."

I jumped back as if I had been shocked. Mothers who had been out shopping with their little children suddenly clutched them tightly and reached to call 911 for perv squad to haul my freaky ass away... after all I had been walking through the parking lot paying pocket pool and fiddling with my hands around my crotch while making pained expressions. As a parent I would have been a bit concerned!

So I tried to stand with as much dignity as I could muster in my short, squat little frame, and I walked to my actual 2007 Fleet Silver Chevy Malibu without a door ding, which was parked four spaces further away in the same row.

Financial Rant

So I was getting ready for bed following the Colbert Christmas Special, and I check the Google News Reader and see that the US Government is ready to pull Citigroup's Chestnuts out of the roasting fire. And THAT pisses me off.

See a few years ago the credit card companies used their political influence to change the bankruptcy laws. With the oh so smart Repuglicants in power, they changed the system to where people could not write off debt from unsecured loans like a credit card. See, the system used to be that if the credit card companies kept sending out cards to people they never screened for good credit, then they (credit card companies) got what they were asking for with deadbeat customers.

The system was set up so that the banks had a level of responsibility. They had to protect the customers and the investors. But suddenly the Fox was watching the chicken coop and all the rules got changed. So now if you lose your job in this cluster fuck that will be the economy in the next year... oh yeah, we will not feel the pain until next summer, and then you might be lucky if you can buy a job. SO if you lose your job and you try to save your home and feed your kids and try to hold your shit together until the job market opens up and life returns to normal... you just MIGHT be temped to use one of the 12 or so credit cards you have in that wallet.

And if that new job never shows up, you will lose the house, lose the car, lose your shit and still owe for all of that PLUS the unsecured debt you racked up on your credit card while hoping "Tomorrow is another day." At which point you will be sooooo screwed because you just used borrowed money to pay a debt you can't pay without a job and an income... but you still owe!

Yes the unpaid credit card bill is now on the level of the college loan and unpaid medical bills. You will be hounded to your grave.

On the other hand, when Citigroup blows their wad YOUR government will promise YOUR taxes will bail them out to the tune of $306 billion.

Wasn't the bailout only $700 billion? WTF does this mean most of this shit is all Citigroup's fault? I think it's time to see some nads hanging from all the street lamps that line Wall Street! How many damn times are we supposed to pay the bills of high dollar screw ups while being told we need to solve local problems on the local levels?

All I got to say is there damn well better be some socialist redistribution of wealth around this place. What do you think the executives of Citigroup were paid to run up a $306 billion debacle? How come we asked the big three Auto Industry to retool the way they do business for $25 billion and yet never made one demand of a single business that is getting more than 8 times the amount as Ford, Chrysler and GM combined? The more I think about it, the pissed offier I feel.

Whaaa? I Missed a Post?

OK first of all in my defense for not posting last night... OU kicked Texas Tech's ASS and might even have jumped back into contention for the National Championship! Second of all, I was at a friend's house, where, after a few drinks we decided we should drive to another friend's house because they had the biggest TV. Finally... there was alcohol involved and the night ran late.

So Friday, as soon as school was out, we took off for PeePaw's house. We drove his used truck that he just bought from his sister, and spent the night with my Dad. We needed to check up on him and see how he is getting along 7 weeks after shattering his right side, breaking most all his ribs, his clavicle, puncturing his lung and tearing his liver. And... he had a friend of his buy a Program Car (Malibu) for me at a little over wholesale. So we thought we should get that while we were there.

We really like the car. My buddies are jealous, which is a bonus, and they tell me that "a little over wholesale" was a hell of a savings! Go PeePaw!

Saturday started with a casual visit as we drank coffee. Then I made breakfast for the family with Dad coming in from time to time to make sure I didn't cause the world to come to an end with badly scrambled eggs. Then Dad suggested we go over to his garden where he had turnips.

Now I don't know nuttin bout no turnips. I bought one last year and put it in some corned beef around St. Paddy's day, but really, I don't know anything about the plant. Dad said to peel it and make it like mashed potatoes.. but don't pour gravy on it. By the way, that answer to my question was made with a look that clearly said "Dumbass."

So Dad drives us over there in his new, used truck. Then walked through the garden and begins pulling turnips out of the ground and cutting away the greens. Did I just mention that he was lying unconscious in a Hospital with his entire freakin side SHATTERED and chest tubes coiled up around his punctured lungs less than 2 months ago??

Who the hell does that? What 66 year old man can do that? I am 46 and I couldn't do that! We had a great time, but in all honesty, Dad didn't look like he wanted to visit much after that, so we loaded up the new Malibu and drove home to watch football. Oh yeah.. and not post on Saturday.

P.S. The BCS just announced that OU did not jump Texas for the #2 position and is now ranked #3 and might not be in contention for the national championship.

Tis the Season

So yesterday a friend of mine came by the office so we could work on a funding project for an after school program. While here she talked about how her and her best girlfriend watch the TV shows Dirty Sexy Money and Boston Legal while on the telephone together.

I read several blogs that rave on and on about the wonderfulness of the TV show Pushing Daisies. They say it is the best show on TV and they can't imagine a better program on Network TV.

My family and I like watching Eli Stone. It is quirky, is has Victor Garber and pays more than a passing homage to a greater power in life.

While I knew Boston Legal was in it's final few shows of it's final season, I just read that the networks are cancelling Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies and Dirty Sexy Money.

On the other hand King of the Hill got another life extension.

A Holiday Tale

So there I was in Tulsa. I had finished up my meetings and I had more scheduled for late into the night. But for now, I had some free time. Since taking this unofficial and unpaid position at work my time has been absolutely consumed as I am trying to do all of the work I did before and make up for the lack of staff that wont be filled until after New Years. But for now, I had some time.

I got to thinking that if it stays this way I will never have time to get my wife thoughtful and considerate holiday gifts. OK, let's be honest. I am not known for thoughtful gifts. Usually I have a female co worker go with me and I ask them to help me look thoughtful, and price is no object, up to $50. Normally I pick a nice gift and then a bunch of gag gifts. One year I guess my daughter and I got carried away with the gags so now I try to stick to what works... let others tell me how to look thoughtful.

Except yesterday I screwed up the plan. I stopped by Best Buy to see if they still had the TV I wanted ta the price I liked. They didn't. So I went by Target and walked around and saw nothing that looked wifey. Finally I left the electronics and sex toy aisles and walked over to women's clothing. Once I sucked it up and stepped into chick world, I think I did an excellent job! I think I got some of the best buys on the clearance rack and then I got her some nice matching fake jewelry and some work out clothes because she just got a new family membership to the local Y.

So... what do you think? Is this gunna be the best Christmas ever or what?!!

Later, I got home, slipped the presents into my daughter's room and tell her we need to wrap them very carefully because Mom cheats worse than the little brother! She always peeks or something, because she ALWAYS knows what she is going to get. So we discuss how we need boxes and wrapping paper and we need to mark out the prices so she doesn't think we are real cheap. (eh-hem) And we have a plan we think will work.

Then tonight my Mrs. Cris is grinning from ear to ear at dinner as she admits, "I found your credit card receipt."