Guest Post

Good Evening.......

I am delighted you could join me as I try to do as much damage as possible on this blog. My name is Downadup Cornflicker and I am a worm. Yes that's right! I am THE worm you heard about. I sent out my minions to scurry ahead of me with the whisper campaign of fear. Clornflicker is coming! Cornflicker is coming! Cornflicker is coming on April Fool's Day to destroy all the computers!!

I am the fear you feel in the dark of night when you walk away from your darkened monitor. I will steal your connection to the world away from you, and you will never know it. I am like Ninja, only binary. I am like the raging grass fire that consumes the prairie and can not be stopped. I AM Cornflicker!!

I have destroyed over 3 million computers worldwide and I haven't even been released yet! Yes, I am THAT bad ass worm.

So scurry around like cockroaches and try to find protection and firewalls for your pathetic computing devices. A am the mighty worm that will eat through your best defenses! I am kryptonite to your OS, I am Kevin Fedderlane to your PC Brittany. I am the monster you fear to dream about, I am WORM!

You want to try to stop me? Do you? Well, do you punk? Ha! I spit in you general direction, and considering what real worms eat, that even grosses ME out! You can try this, or this or even that. It will not save you. I am as unstoppable as rap music and slutty chicks with Daddy issues.

Mark your calendar. Take note for this day in history is the day a Worm rules the word!

OH and I would like to thank Cris for allowing me this chance to guest post. I think Opprobrious rocks and Cris kicks ass, so this was like a dream come true. As for me, I hope to host Saturday Night Live in a week or so, during May Sweeps. Be sure to check me out, the show should be awesome! I understand we might even get U2 for the musical guest! I LOVE them! In fact, I can't recommend enough that you down load the latest album... if your computer still works! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Hereos

OK so I am a nerd. Big news flash there, huh? So there I was watching Heroes on TV, and just before the line of thunderstorms swept in and knocked the signa... no actually it was the weatherman that came on and Stopped broadcasting the TV show so they could show off the new radar... anyway just before we missed the final 25 freakin minutes of Heroes, Peter's Mom told Peter, "Unconditional love isn't really love at all."

OK, that's it! I am now playing the bullshit card! That's right timid readers, I am slapping that bad boy down on the card table because I totally disagree with that statement. In fact, I would venture to say that anything LESS than unconditional love is not really love.

Do parents ONLY love the smart, good looking kids? Hell no! My Mom loves me and that'd all the freakin proof you need right there. Right Mom? ... Mom? Mom!

Oh well, she naps a lot lately, especially when I come to visit, so it is best to let her get her rest.

But the thing is, parents love their children whether they are class leaders or class losers. Does a husband stop loving his wife of 30 years because she has a stroke or an accident? Hell No! He stays by her and loves her and then slips off for meaningless sex in the parking lot of strip clubs. If he is lucky it will be with one of the female dancers.

Does a woman love her husband less when, after years of providing he grows older, harder of hearing and develops a "beer" gut? Well, yeah, that probably does happen. Which goes to prove my point. Women are evil.

Wait.. I mean, the only real love is unconditional love. So what if your spouse dumps you and leaves you in poverty while he or she is off screwing the brains out of some younger, hard bodied bimbo or himbo without you? You know they will eventually return to you because love will find a way. Lust led them away but it was true, unconditional love that led them back to you. And the fact that the himbo/bimbo spent all your life's savings and left them broke and in need a place to live is just a coincidence. Honest!

It's kind of like how you love Blogs. I mean if this blog really sucked, you would never even comment on it, right? And there's the thing. Comments in the comment section is like real, unconditional love.

:::::waiting::::::::::



::::::: Still Waiting:::::


Fuckers

Don't Blog About This, OK?

OMG do people think I go through the day looking for mundane dribble to put on this blog each day? I can't even begin to ell you the number of people at work, friends and even at home that start to tell me things then stop and say, you wont put this on your blog will you?

First of all, I do not report boring shit on this blog. No, it is all totally made-up fiction that bores people on this blog! Most of the times, expect when I am sharing, like now.. except for the part where I said people that read my blog... because you KNOW that's fiction.

...ANYhoo... I want to assure you, the reader, I do not report on the daily lives of people in my life. Sure, I will tell a tale or two about family. Occasionally I share a story that involves a co-worker, but I am not telling you the soap opera, TV Tabloid version of people in my life.

I am telling you all of this so you will know with all certainty that if you choose to email me naked pictures of yourself I will not post them on my blog. Honest! I am not lying!

Unless of course, the story ends up effecting me.

Great White Hope

So in Eastern Oklahoma we don't get much snow. Every few years we hear of big snowstorms out in the Western part of the state and there was one year where I actually lived through one or two of them. But now that I am over here on the Eastern side, snow is a mythical, fairy dust, like substance that you read about but never see.

With the greatest ever winter snow storm predicted to befall us, here in the early part of Spring, I said no snow would reach us. I woke this morning to the sound of rain and the news that out around Laverne, Oklahoma, where we used to live, there was 25 inches of snow. So much snow in fact that a nursing home, a school house and some other building had the roofs cave in from the weight of all the snow.

At my house there was nothing. I talked to my Dad, I talked to old friends and nothing came this way but rain. I heard it was in Oklahoma City, I heard it was just down the road in Creek County. Here there was nothing.


Then suddenly, in spite of all my grousing and denial it began to fall. Big wet flakes that stuck to the sides of poles. White fluffy snow blanketed my front yard in, as close to a white out, as this part of the country will ever see. Snow piled up on the cars and in the yard. The trees, in full bloom of spring bent heavy from the clinging wet flakes. It was magical and it was beautiful.

But since we were in a real snowstorm we did what people should do. We all teamed up and cleaned the house since all outside activities seemed to be off the table. Hours later, with a sparkling clean house, my Dad calls to tell me that out West, where he lives, the snow plows have the the snow tossed up along the highways as tall as his Chevy truck. So I stepped outside to join right in this friendly little pissing contest, only to see all of our snow had already melted!

See, told you we wouldn't get snow.

Sick Friends

So as many of you know, our friend Adam is under the weather. Without telling too much of his business, I want to say I have been telling him for a long time that if he keeps sticking things up there, something is bound to get stuck. Anyhoo, I am not sure what all they ended up pulling out of there but I hear it was like one of those little clown cars you see at the circus.

Which leads me to the topic of tonight's discussion: No, not the black hole of Calcutta, I want to talk about health care in America. Did you know Dave2 nearly died? OK, maybe not died, but he had a lot of pain. He was flying half way across the world in some exotic land where his kidney stones flared up and he had to be taken to a hospital. Dave was treated, pain relived and taken back to the airport in time for his flight. That's health care man!

Where was this mysterious land that renders examination, testing, diagnosis and treatment... not to mention all the paperwork... and can get you back in time for a connecting flight?! A few years ago my daughter got Chicken Pox. We are first time parents. We read up on it and the family medical book said Chicken Pox could turn lethal and kill everybody in the Continental US, so out of concern for myself... and the world... We called the Dr.

The Dr said it sounded like Chicken Pox and she really needed to be examined before she died and spreads her disease and we should absolutely, most definitely NOT take her to the Dr's office but to the ER. Because she is contagious. Evidently ERs have a disease inhibitor that is not found anywhere else in the universe. SO we go to the ER where we are told we will see the doctor in the near future. In the mean time we need to find a place, away from the waiting room, to wait. They did not want to slackers in there with broken limbs and severed appendages to rick getting sick. SO we went to the next available place with seats. The empty cafeteria. Now I wonder, how long does a Chicken Pox germ live anyway?

There we waited for maybe three more house before we were paged that our table... I mean Doctor was ready to see us. The dude looked at her from across the room, glanced in her eyes and said, "Yup, that could be Chicken Pox alright! You should take her to her regular doctor." So four hours missing from our life, a sick kid and now missing $100 we experienced rural health care. Sounds like Dave2 got it better.

And Adam, Dude, once you can stop pooping in a bag and your new sphincter transplant has healed up, I am sure you too will look back in awe and admiration at the men and women who saved your life. ...even if you might never be able to look them in the eyes without total humiliation. Oh yeah, and as the stitches begin to heal, just remember what I told my little girl. DON'T SCRATCH!!

Three Things

First
Blogger says there is a scheduled outage for 3/25 at 4:00. Now I don't know if that is AM or PM or both because I don't know how long this freakin outage is going to last. It could be a few minutes, it could extend to the end of time. Chances are it will last somewhere between the two time references I mentioned, but it pays to be safe. That means you need to stock up on Opprobrious NOW!! Copy and paste your favorite blog posts so you can re-read them in the near future when Blogger will no longer be providing exemplary services to people too fucking cheap to pay for a real site.

Yes friends, just like when you get real lucky and know a scumbag artist is going to die BEFORE he kicks the bucket, you now have the chance to capitalize off of the probable demise of all things Opprobrious, at the scheduled outage of Blogger in less than six hours from now... or maybe 18.. whatever. The thing is NOW is the time! Order your T-Shirts, Buy the motivational Tapes, stock up on Tagamilf because the end is near... maybe.

Second
WTF is the deal with Will Smith?! AOL which is owned by Time-Warner, the world's greatest news source, ran a big story on how Will and Jada Pinkett dispelled rumors that Will was gay. OK, the guy has been married for years, has kids, and as far as I know NEVER had any rumors about him being gay. So how in the hell can a PR dude get that kind of press over dispelling a non-rumor. Is Will's career in the crapper following Hancock and I am Legend? I mean, yeah the movies SHOULD have been better but that wasn't his fault. The writing wasn't as good as it should have been and the directing was a bit weak. But Will Smith did an excel... Oh crap... does this mean I'm gay for Will Smith??

Third and final
Chalk it up as Psycho Dad. We have been having fun with our new phones that we got last week. So last night I went in the back part of the house and when I came back I had this evil impulse to freak out my 17 year old daughter. I snuck into the dining room, right behind the recliner she was sitting in while reading a book (the final Sookie Stackhouse Book in the series... yeah she's hooked) So in true horror movie style I whip out my Blackberry and text to my daughter, "I am standing right behind you!"

Then I waited on the other side of the wall, next to the door that was beside her chair. I was like a little kid, nearly overcome with giggles as I waited on her to timidly peer around the edge of her chair. ...and I waited... and I waited... and I started thinking, how freakin long does it take to receive a text message, when MY phone started vibrating.

I quickly opened it up and read, "I'm in bed, dumbass."

Grrrrr I had been stalking an empty recliner!

Matt

My grandfather was always handicapped, as far as I knew. Actually I didn't know the term back then, I just knew he was in a wheelchair and his legs didn't work. I knew he had been in an airplane crash in Northern Nebraska while illegally shooting Coyotes from an airplane. That it was a necessary range practice to protect cattle herds was as accepted as the fact that flying around and shooting a gun at things was considered normal.

Because he was handicapped his old house had a wheelchair accessible ramp. His ramp was made of concrete. I distinctly remember his independence, as he wheeled himself to his car, got in and out and was able to drive without the use of his legs. We went on many adventures when I was a little kid, before he moved back to Nebraska. He died when I was 9 years old. My oldest cousin on that side of the family had just been born. I am not sure if they ever met, although I know my grandfather loved the baby as much as he loved us all. They just never had the time to play together that all grandparents need with grandkids.

So the little kid grew up in the house our Grandfather had owned in town. Man we loved watching him play with his wild abandon! One day we went over to the house to find him on his new Bigwheels Tricycle barreling down the handicap ramp wearing a fondue pot on his head as a crash helmet.

I know, I know, I always tell you these little tales and then end with the tragic thud. Well I don't want to break a formula that works so.... I understand that little kid turns uncomfortably close to 40 years old today. Happy Birthday Dude!

Phone Phucup

So you know how I got that new Blackberry (they said it was a $500 phone)just so I could keep up with emails and work issues while performing new job duties on the road? Well today was my first day at work with the new machine.

So loaded up man! I took the hands free, a car charger and even a cute little clip on phone holster that will clip on my belt, since the Blackberry case provided has no freakin clip. I mean it dude, I had it all!

About half way to Stillwater, past the point of no return, I realized I had it all except for the actual freakin PHONE!!

Oh yeah. All day long I heard things like, "Well if YOU would have paid for ME to get the Blackberry we would have it right now... because I wouldn't forget it!" Or "You spent all that money and all weekend long learning how to use it.. then forgot it at home?!! LAME DUDE....LAME!"

SO I get home and see I had around 60 work related messages piled up in my text/email accounts. The good news... I am on the road again tomorrow!

God, PLEASE don't let me forget my phone a second day in a row. PLEASE??

MY Boy

Years and years ago, in what seemed another lifetime, I had a little boy. He was sweet and sucked his thumb a lot. He went through a series of accidents where he kept breaking his wrist on one arm or the other or the other... ok he broke one of them more than once, and he broke a bone in his foot once.

He has always been his mother's child. A big Mama's boy. In fact, I used to growl at him in a deep manly voice, "What are you, some kinda MAMA's BOY?!!" And he would reply by hugging his mother close and defiantly saying "Yes I am!"

Now he is 14 years old. His voice has changed, he has hair growing all over him. He is the tallest person in our house. It is becoming harder and harder to recognize the little boy who would run so enthusiastically through the house wearing a bath towel around his neck as a cape... and often little else! One of my favorite pictures of him is curled up in his bed for an afternoon's nap. A prerequisite in our house for the under age 5 set. Only he was in bed with his best buddy of day, a big old Basset hound we had saved from the pound. The dog was bigger than he was, up in his bed crashed just as hard as an over active little boy. And there was Jr, dead to the world, a thumb in his mouth and his butt sticking up in the air.

So I look at the young man that is in my house today and I realize those days of sweet innocence are gone forever. Now our long talks about Spiderman and Harry Potter will be replaced by forced issue like safe sex, responsibility, how to respect a date, and cultivating the proper image. Everyday, my baby grows a little bit father away from me.


But today I found him asleep following church. In an unmade bed, surrounded by the hangers tossed out of the closet as we got ready for church. Curled up to his best buddy the cat. And for just a moment, right up until the flash of the camera woke him up, he was still my little boy. Then he got up, straightened his church shirt and said he would put the rented DVD in the player for me, since he knew I had trouble seeing the controls. "Besides," he reminded me, "it's due in the morning and we don't want late fees."

Epiphany Sunday

OK I think I understand all the trouble Own Wilson went through here a few months ago. The kids rented the movie, The Wendel Baker Story, staring Own and Luke Wilson. Hell, I wanted to commit suicide less than half way through, and I know it took them weeks to film it. You know, considering this flick and Drillbit Taylor, it seems maybe... just MAYBE... they can't carry a movie on their own.

The daughter and I got back from church and decided to play with my camera while we were ll cleaned up. Turns out the memory card can only hold two pics. I think I need a bigger card.

I decided to pounge around the house this weekend. Recharge batteries, as we have had a lot of company and been working long hours. I realize that lounging puts more of a strain on my back. Holy Crap I hurt today!

That's about all the insight I can handle for one week.

Woke Up To The Sound of Thunder

Ever hear that old song, Night Moves by Bob Seeger? "I woke up to the sound of thunder.." That line has a grew more and more significant to me as I grew older and gained experience. See, I am from a part of Oklahoma called "Green Country." That means we get ALOT of rain. We will get maybe 10 times as much rain as the farm country out West where they grow all the wheat.

With rain, comes thunder. "Sounds like the potato wagon is rolling over the bridge," my old neighbor used to say to me as we sat in his porch swing and sipped lemon aide. Yeah, I know that sounds corny and like a time from some by-gone era, but it was only the mid 70s! My parents were divorced, I was a latch key kid and my next door neighbor was a great guy. We would sit for hours everyday after school and sip cool drinks and talk about the events of the day for a little kid. It wasn't until I graduated from high school and saw him die a reclusive death, that I realized our times together probably meant as much or more to him than they did to me. I miss him as much as any family member I have ever lost.

So thunder is nearly a daily thing in Eastern Oklahoma. Not a big deal, til your trailer house blows away, right? Well that's what I thought up until I spent a few years farming out West. See I grew up along the edge of a flood plain. As a result there were a lot of snakes slithering around, but there were only a couple that were poisonous, Copperheads and Water Moccasins. But when I went out West to farm there were rattlesnakes!

The water snakes were not a problem since there is no water out there. The other snakes were serious, especially if you were hauling hay. Sweat pouring into your eyes, stumbling over high rough cut stubs in the field while trying to ignore the growing pain in your back. Then you grab a bale of hay to toss on the trailer and hope the biting end of a snake is not sticking out of the compressed bale. We had a hay field that was lousy with rattle snakes, I mean snakes of all sizes and they were aggressive.

Add to the fact my father in law was deathly afraid of snakes. He got to the point he took all of his aggressions out on snakes while driving. See, to him, the only good snake was a dead snake. So driving along the highway, dirt road, city street... whatever, he would see the shimmer of a snake crossing the road, swerve over to run it over then slam on his breaks.

As I peeled my face off the inside of the windshield and dabbed the scalding hot coffee off balls, he would look at me unconcerned and explain, "When you hit your breaks, it shreds them." And that was life around the farm for about 9 years. From Spring to frost you better wear a seat belt and you better have a lid on your drink because everything got run over and shredded. Snakes, litter, even tar filled road repairs.

Snakes because such a topic to think about and watch for along the road they were always in our minds. One day I had to go out into the snake filled hay field to repair a fence and I asked about the snakes. "Don't worry," my Father in Law advised. "Snakes wont wake up until it thunders. It's the thunder that wakes them."

SO I told you all of this to simply say, "I woke last night to the sound of thunder." Which means the snakes are now awake for the summer.

Blackberry Bonus (kind of)

The camera works all too freakin well. That means I should have more pics that show my world.

RE: Blackberry

OK so I called tech support and they did an excellent job of 'splaining to my dumb ass why I could not access the internet. I am pretty sure the store clerk was supposed to set that feature up as well as move over all my ringtones. She did not. She gave me a card with the number for tech support.

So here is the deal. I ALMOST got a Smartphone. No, not an I-Phone because I use US Cellular, due to personal and regional coverage reasons. I had a choice of two smart phones. I looked them over and took a consultant group with me that included my wife, son and two co-workers. The general consensus was I am not smart enough for a Smartphone, but one of the co-workers plans to upgrade to a Blackberry (From a MotoQ) and they can 'splain to me how to use it.

The big deal breaker on the pretty smart phone was the on screen keypad. I didn't like it. It took like 30 minutes to boot up and when I saw the two-letters per key design, I wanted the Blackberry Curve.

So I took the day off because I have been a bit blinky lately and need to burn some sick leave. I downloaded all my Scottish bagpipe ringtones off of Myxer and of course, nobody in the house can figure out how to load them.

We surf the net, check this blog, play on Facebook and check EMail just fine. It's the ringtones that make me feel like a loser. Oh, and I couldn't get Hulu to play Scrubs reruns. So I guess I had two failures. Other than that... it's a cool phone. I think I will enjoy everything but the bill.

Guess what I got!!

I have a Five-Freakin-Hundred dollar phone and I have no freakin idea how to use it! After 3 hours of screwing around I am now on hold with Technical Services. Grrrrrr

...and I have a fan behind me

So St Pat's has gone again. Maybe we should all be filled with the merriment of green beer and small chested Celtic women. But I can't help but feel bad. The thing is, I feel bad because I don't feel bad, and THAT'S what I wanted to talk about tonight.

Liam Neeson's wife, Natasha Richardson, died today following a horrific skiing accident. She was a well known product of a great acting family, had won a Tony Award and held the respect of her peers. One moment she was full of life and energy and within hours that life was snuffed out.

What bothers me about this is, I don't care. Now don't get me wrong, I am not being callous or disrespectful. In fact I am trying with all my might to be a better person, but that simply has to start with self awareness. When I was told of the tragic fate of Ms Richardson, I shrugged my shoulders and mumbled, "Never heard of her." Later I learned she was the wife of Liam Neeson and mother of his children and beloved by her family who are shocked and devastated because a vital part of their lives is now gone forever. And I shrugged the information off without a second thought. Did you? Did you feel the same initial reaction?

Here's the deal. I want to be a better person. I don't want to be a big sissy or get in touch with my girly side. But you know what? I have felt loss. I have suffered grief. There were good people who were there to help me. People who can always be counted upon. And I feel, I will never really be one of those people because when I hear about the Natasha Richardsons of the day, I shrug it off because I don't know them. But I know the pain of loss... so... WTF?!!

Here's the deal man, I think all reasonable, intelligent people are on Mazlow's journey to self actualization. I want to be the better person. I want to be one of the good guys. I want to be an apex human filled with humanity. I know the world is full of those who have no desire to do this (we call them Republicans) and I am actually sad for their self-imposed limits of personal growth. But it does not change the fact that I want to be as good a man as I can be, but I also don't really care that Natasha Richardson died in a terrible skiing accident, and it is because I am not yet one of the good guys. And reason demands that I have to acknowledge that I might never be one of the good guys. It doesn't change anything, the goal of life is to climb our own personal ladder to self actualization. It is not a competition, we will all have different levels. But still, we can take comfort in the fact we are better people than Republicans.

SO to Liam Neeson and the family of Natasha Richardson: I am so sorry for your loss. It's a damn tragedy for the entire family and I wish all of you well in these troubling times.

ON Another Topic:
We interviewed for a new employee today. This lady comes in and is telling us how she worked with the poor and how they are unwashed, but "her heart has no nose." She said she brings them into her office and she helps them get back on their feet and the love she feels for them means her great and loving heart can't smell the unwashed people in abject poverty. "...plus I have a fan behind me."

Now THAT was funny! I don't care who you are.

p.s. If you want to argue the issue about small chested Celtic women, you are going to have to PROVE IT!

Still Green

OK I have been wondering today if I need a different group of friends. Here is it St. Patrick's day. The day of drunken revelry for all Celtic people and worked all day and talked work all night. I never had a green drink nor even corn beef and cabbage. There is just something wrong about that, when you consider how this holiday excites me every year... but we NEVER do anything.

My son was telling tales tonight. My visiting brother in law had the boy sharing stories and one was about one day when we were working in the yard. Jr claims I took a break, went over the porch where he had brought me an icy cold lemonade. He claims I looked at the glass full of yellow refreshment, so cold the glass was soaked in sweat, and then I looked at the dog happily thumping it's tail next to the glass. The boy swears I poured the drink out on the ground out of concern the dog might have marked it's territory on my glass and wizzed in the drink.

No I have no memory of that incident. So am I paranoid? Am I cautious? Do I have a son who tells a good story? Would YOU have drank from the glass?

My Irish (kinda)

OK OK SO I looked all over to tell you how my family has a recorded decent from a Diarmid O'Duin. Diarmid was a character in Irish Mythology and while I have seen many tales of his adventures in reading about my family history... I failed to find you any for independent reading. So instead I give you...

Leprechaun
The LeprechaunThe name leprechaun may have derived from the Irish leath bhrogan (shoemaker), although its origins may lie in luacharma'n (Irish for pygmy). These apparently aged, diminutive men are frequently to be found in an intoxicated state, caused by home-brew poteen. However they never become so drunk that the hand which holds the hammer becomes unsteady and their shoemaker's work affected.

Leprechauns have also become self-appointed guardians of ancient treasure (left by the Danes when they marauded through Ireland), burying it in crocks or pots. This may be one reason why leprechauns tend to avoid contact with humans whom they regard as foolish, flighty (and greedy?) creatures. If caught by a mortal, he will promise great wealth if allowed to go free. He carries two leather pouches. In one there is a silver shilling, a magical coin that returns to the purse each time it is paid out. In the other he carries a gold coin which he uses to try and bribe his way out of difficult situations. This coin usually turns to leaves or ashes once the leprechaun has parted with it.However, you must never take your eye off him, for he can vanish in an instant.

The leprechaun 'family' appears split into two distinct groups - leprechaun and cluricaun. Cluricauns may steal or borrow almost anything, creating mayhem in houses during the hours of darkness, raiding wine cellars and larders. They will also harness sheep, goats, dogs and even domestic fowl and ride them throughout the country at night. Shoe Repairs Although the leprechaun has been described as Ireland's national fairy, this name was originally only used in the north Leinster area. Variants include lurachmain, lurican, lurgadhan.

Opprobrious Sponsor

Anti-People Magazine

OK we used to get People Magazine. You could read about pretty people living exotic lives on a level that was never realistic but fueled your fantasy life of one day making it big time like Elmer Fudd. Who, as we all know, owns a mansion and a yacht.

But People magazine has turned into a weekly publication that has two topics. American Idol (which I don't watch) and dieters. My first response at this realization is, "Why the FUCK am I paying for this crap when I don't want to know about either one of those subjects?!!" My next thought was not admiration for people who torture themselves to loose weight for public attention, but the fact that statistically, they are almost certain to gain it all back in 2 - 5 years because 95% of all diet and exercise plans fail. The Mag now seems to feature people, who might as well be cartoons, because of they are not famous and have a great rack I am NOT going to remember their names. And then it shows their struggle with weight and how they are trying to lose, then a year or so later they will show how they gained it all back or died. Holy Crap that is depressing and I do NOT want to have to see that every week!

But then I got to thinking. Hey! I'm a big time publisher with a monster blog that has hundreds of readers, if you keep counting the same two over and over for a really long time. I could create my own feature of people, who are really no more than cartoons, that overcome real health weight issues for the better... I could even make it a charity! Cris's Kids!

So I would like to tell you about my little friend Nyondo. See NY (as I have come to call him) was a poor product of ethnic cleansing in the Tanzania war zones. Pushed from refugee camp to refugee camp little Nyondo grew more and more frail. Finally when our Cris's Kids Rescue Team found him he was literally stick thin. For only a few dollars a day we were able to provide Nyondo with the basics grains and dairy product to sustain life via a few Hot pockets. It is because of people that care, like you, that children like Nyondo and all other Tanzanian War refugees mights have hope of a future.

Please Help us help Nyondo and thousands of other starving little kids just like him with your Email pledge of $50, $200 or $30 Billion dollars a week. With your great heart and generous spirit you may be able to claim in a few years that American Job Outsourcing to Tanzania sweat shops might never have been possible if you hadn't stepped in to save a little boy like Nyondo.

Doctor Visit

"You gotta be fucking with me!" my co-worker screamed at me over the cell phone as I pulled onto the highway. I had called her as I was leaving my last Doctor's appointment. "He told you that you need to lose weight and all he gave you was an ad from a magazine...?"

OK I have been taking a lot of heat about my choice in Doctors lately. I go to a guy in his 80s. He is a member of our church and he calls every one of his patients and discusses their lab work with them on a personal level. He will answer all questions and work with you on a health plan. Plus, he is not the kind of guy who thinks he knows everything. I have heard him on phone consultations, and I have discussed medically scoffed at theories and found he does not prejudge any topic.

So when I told my co-worker I was just leaving my appointment and I had a photo copy of an advertisement from Country Magazine, this product of a family of nurses went a bit ballistic. "It wasn't even a fucking medical magazine..? Not even about health?!"

With this kind of support for the medical decisions in my life I thought I would discuss the matter with my family. Turned out nobody in my house cared enough to listen. Luckily my Dad calls several times a week. So I told him the tale and how I was told I should try "Apple Cider Vinegar" pills.

Now Dad is an old farm and ranch guy. But he deals with a lot of vet medicines and without a formal education he has a much greater understanding of life sciences than I will ever possess. He has doctored thousands of sick cattle back to health, and the few hundred that didn't survive were just carted off to the nearest wash-out for the coyotes to eat. What I am saying here is, I think I was good hands when discussing my medical future with my Dad.

AT first he was not too thrilled about the old Doc's recommendation. And being a solid businessman I was shocked Dad never picked up on the fact that my Insurance will not cover vinegar. But then Dad surprised me!

"Whoa there... You know, now that I get to thinking about it, I think it might be a good idea. Folks have always known Vinegar helps you lose weight. Why even back when I was a little kid, I used to try to drink the pickle juice out of pickle jars, because I loved the taste. And my Grandmother would say, 'Don't drink that pickle juice, it makes you Poor!'"

Dad went on the explain that back then, before the advent of indoor plumbing and when you had to walk 12 miles a day to milk the cow 6 times a day before sunrise everyday of you life, even in snow and you don't know what it is like to suffer... Anyway, he went on the explain that being "poor" meant thin and frail. "And really pickle juice is about the same things as vinegar, so I think it is worth a shot. ...and if it doesn't work I can always hook you onto the tractor and haul your fat ass off to the wash-out."

And THAT'S why I am now trying this product. I might be crazy, but after a few days I really do have a lot less appetite.

Miss Britt Sexathon

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WTF?!!

Thump:::::: Thump::::::: THUMP!

THUMP::: THUMP:::::THUMP!!!

Hello........ Is this thing on?

Time to Take a Stand!

There comes a time when all of us has to take a stand. We know we can't allow the present course of events to continue without standing up and saying "this is not right!" We are now at one of these times and you, the American public finally have the rally point upon which you can focus your outrage and disgust at the corporate market world that values profit above all else. It is time to make that stand!

You must Choose:



OR


Which do YOU think is the right body image for Dora the Explorer in future cartoons? The creators are thinking about giving the pre-school favorite a teen aged body that could cause years of internal conflict for the millions of little 3 and 4 year old girls who feel like less of a little woman for not having the stipper chick figure of the proposed new Dora.

Now be brave and make your stand!

A Message From Corporate

As many of you may recall, the Opprobrious Blog and staff was taken over recently in a hostile takeover by the Syntelligent Corporation. All employees, thoughts, ideas, doodles and conversation associated with this blog, even by you the reader, now belong to us. This is no different from what used to happen in your mundane world before the awesome poser of our Syntelligent marketing concepts.

Now you have at your disposal an all power corporation, controlled by the wealthiest men in the world who don't want to be bothered with ever knowing your name. The end result is; If you have an idea while reading Opprobrious or one of the other millions of Syntelligent holdings, you are required by international law to respond in the comments section of this (or other other Syntelligent holdings) blog. Those ideas then become the intellectual property of Syntelligent so that we and we alone might profit.

Failure to report personal thoughts, ideas and observations on the comments section of this (or other Syntelligent properties) blog will result in an invisible black mark on the cookie of your computer. After a predetermined number of black marks have been recorded on your computer cookies, due to your failure to respect the intellectual properties of the Syntelligent Corporation, a black ops team will be dispatched to your residence as determined by an ISP ping. The Ping will also be unknown to you. The black Ops team that will be dispatched to your house will be instructed to kill your favorite pet.

While this policy may seem cruel, please remember you forced the issue by failing, time after time, to comment once you had a thought stimulated by a Syntelligent Corporate holding. And we did give you several chances (black marks) on your cookie before pinging your computer and dispatching a black ops team to kill your favorite pet. That's because Syntelligent values you, the customer. Almost as much as you love your pet.

Passages

So I went to the funeral today. I hate funerals. But this one was probably what a funeral should be, allowing people to share memories of the person they loved. They played a few country western songs and read a passage from the bible and then asked the crowd of people in the room to share stories of person they were there to honor.

Now this is a country where men don't cry, so you wont get many public speakers. A couple of women said pleasant things and one guy tried to tell a story of how one of the boys hooked grandpa with a lure while out fishing one day. Then there was silence. So I stood up and shared part of the story I had been thinking for days, and in fact have thought of many times in my life.

Mike and I were maybe 11 years old. We slept out in the garage because his parents politely banned us from the house. Not only were we overly impressed with all types of flatulant jokes, there MIGHT have been a long night of me asking Mike questions like, "Pssssst! Psssst! MIKEEEE!"

"What?" he would ask from the twin bed on the other side of the dark bedroom we were sharing.

"Wanna play Army? I'll act like a tank and you can come along and BLOW ME! HAHAHAHAHA"

Did I mention we were 11? In fact at this time we were probably more like 9. My maniacal laughter would be interrupted by Mike's Dad's patient voice saying, "Boys... You need to settle down in there. We got to get some sleep."

Maybe 5 minutes later I would start again, "Pssssst! Psssst! Mike!"

He would be laughing because it was just too obvious. "What?"

"You want to play Navy?"

Later, I was reminded I had eventually included all branches of the armed services and tried more than a few vocations. All followed by Mike's Dad telling us to settle down. In the dark, in an unfamiliar house, the parental bedroom seemed like it had to be in another world. In the light of the next morning, Mike showed me it was more like 5 feet away. I don't believe we ever spent another night under the roof of the house.

Which is why, a few years later, we were much older but still banished to the non attached garage. Mike pointed to the refrigerator and told me his Dad had a 5th of Cherry Vodka in a plain brown paper sack. So we checked it out, and thoughts of awe turned to dares of courage to the point we each pretty much shamed the other to try a drink. When we realized it didn't kill us we tried another and another. Sometime, maybe 3:00am or so, one of us thought about checking to see if we had drank a noticeable amount. So we rolled the paper sack down a little, then further and further and with each inch our hearts started trying to jump out of our throats. Finally we yanked the sack off the bottle to see it was nearly empty!

There was no way to hide this! We had gotten into something we never should have and we STAYed there! We were so going to get killed! I don't know if I have ever been as afraid as I was that night. Finally we did the only adult thing we could think of, we put it back in the brown paper sack and back into the refrigerator and tried to act like it never happened.

Two days later I got a call from Mike. "He knows!" SO I waited for calls to my parents and the end of the world, which never happened. Life seemed to continue as normal so I never expected the question Mike's Dad tossed out one afternoon while we were goofing around in the yard. "Cris...?" He asked as he looked speculatively over the tops of his glasses. "Was that you and Mike that got into my Cherry Cough medicine?"

I know it sounds lame to see that written out here on a blog post. But I can't tell you the number of times I have re-heard that question in my mind. It ALWAYS sends cold fear shivers down my spine. I hung my head and 'fessed up. And instead of a beating, a lecture or another banishment, he just chuckled and told me he was going to have to start marking his bottle thereafter.

For years following that event, Mike said his dad would from time to time take a drink from his old "Cherry Cough Medicine" and start to put it back in the fridge, then stop, look at Mike suspiciously and pull out a marker and mark the level of what was left on the glass bottle. But he never mentioned the incident again.

God we are going to miss him.

My Secret Identity

So at night, under the cover of darkness when all the innocents are safe asleep in their beds, I cast off this fat boy persona so craftily cultivated to fool the masses. Like a lithe dancer I move on nimble feet at the speed of light. I jump twice my height, and have the power of a God.

Later, when I crawl into bed at night knowing all the women at my club desire me, and all the men wish they were me. I walk among them as a man among children, knowing none of them pose a real threat and they only exist for my amusement. Ha! And my father said I would never get anywhere in life if all I did was sit around and play with myself!

I turned Pro this weekend. I would boast even more but I still need the 14 year old to tell me how to turn on the machine.

Wii ROCKS!

Irish Tramp Stamp?

Randon Sunday Thoughts

So they are predicting storms in Oklahoma tomorrow. You know what that means...? Somebody's gunna lose a trailer house!

Redneck Diva tells me she has Dish Network's Wildblue Satellite as an Internet Service Provider (ISP). She tells me they charge twice as much for the service which sucks ass. She said as soon as the wins blow and the clouds roll in the ISP is long gone. Of course she told me all this AFTER I signed the freakin 2 year contract. Please send all hate mail and Dish Network related litigation to TheRedneckDiva.com. Oh yeah, and if you don't see a post from me tomorrow you should assume that either my ISP got knocked out by the storm or Redneck Diva kicked dropped by and kicked my ass for the "litigation" remark.

Oh each year at spring we have a small ant invasion. Nasty little buggers that keep popping up in one room after another. I poisoned them out of my bedroom and the kitchen, so they are popping up in the guest room. Terro is a very good poison. Raid and others have been completely ineffective. I also found out a few years ago from a local old timer that spraying Diesel Fuel around the parameter of your home as a weedkiller will also apparently run the ants off. I know, I know, this is bad for the environment and totally irresponsible! Pour fuel out on the group to seep into the ground water systems is WAY worse than using poison. In spite of this knowledge, I know it does work on the little "piss ants" as they are called around here. But I didn't do it this year because Terro is cheaper than diesel.

Day of Rest

I are a bargain hunter. Like my hunter gather forebearers before me, I am up at the ass crack of dawn's early light... OK by the moon's twilight shine I am out there following the known hunting trails of Ebay, Craigslist and a local auction or two. I tell you this to tell you another less interesting story.

Every summer I have epic battles of endurance between myself and the lawnmower. It doesn't matter if it is a push mower, riding mower, or a goat tethered to a rope in the front yard. If I need it to keep the grass under control it will not work! To be fair, I have a long history of buying used crap. My current 14 hp riding lawnmower I got at an auction for $200. It's OK but the fact that it makes a grinding noise and sparks shoot out of the front end always makes me nervous. The one we used last year I got from a dude moving away for $200. It ran fine until my daughter mowed for an hour without realizing the mower deck had lost a support bold and was dragging in the dirt. How she made 15 or 20 rounds without noticing she was digging a freakin trench has always puzzled me... and made me consider taking her car keys away.

So this year I announced to all the co workers and family that I intended to stop fucking around. No more Mr. Cheapskate! This year I would go to Sears and get a NICE NEW Riding Lawnmower that would last another 10 years or more without mishap! There was a bit of mockery and taunting that greeted this announcement along the line of "Whoopee, the dumbass finally realized he if he can't fix things he should buy new." I took it in stride as I added a few names to the list of people I will gut and pour salt in their wounds... once I am granted gutting and salting powers after I pass my G&S competency exams. Let's keep our fingers crossed for that, shall we?

So, yesterday I popped on craigslist and saw a nice John Deere Mower for ONLY $500. I called and the little old lady said her son used to use it but he got hurt and moved away and now she would have to hire her yard cared for and didn't need the mower. Iy looks nearly new. It registers 141 hours. OK, I don't know if that is a lot or very little, but I hoped it would make me sound like a smart shopper.

The battery was dead and a couple of tires were flat. Not unusual for a lawn mower that sat over the winter. She told me she had a pump in her storage shed. I looked all over and never could see the compressor, then I realized she meant a HAND pump! Holy fuck! What, was she still living in the 1800? So I hand pumped up the two tires as she politely asked me about my job. I tried to tell her, but to be honest I think I was having a stroke. I sit at a desk all day and play on the computer, pumping flat tires up with a hand pump was kind of like real work!

Anyway we started the mower, purchased it, and hauled it home. Then we went to the lumber yard and got a sheet of sheet rock to repair the wall my son ruined. Evidently the concept of closing a shower curtain is not obvious. Only, there was a gang of ruffians blocking our entrance to the lumber yard. They had some kind of a shake down station right in front of the door. I tried to do the manly thing and walk right by without making eye contact and not responding to any of their taunts. Unfortunalty, I had two 14 year old boys with me.

Would you believe that not only did they NOT try to defend me from those hoodlums, they actively cheered them on as they forced me to spend $4 on Girl Scout Cookies. Then the boys ran back to the truck with their treasure while I had to buy dry wall repair materials. Once we were home we patched up the wall and added our first coat of mud.

I have to admit I was exhausted by this point. I had a bit of lunch and it was making me want an afternoon nap REAL bad. But we own a little rent house in town and the renter said his water heater is messing up. We tried repairs and it looks like it needs a thermostat replaced. SO we gathered tool and went to town where I got to play with my favorite two elements. 220 volts of electricity and water! As you can guess I survived, got home feeling dead to the world on my freakin day off only to be reminded that tonight we move our clocks forward one hour and I will lose an hour of sleep. grrrrrrrrr

Day of Death and Destruction

So today was pretty tough. Growing up my best friend and I did everything together. We pretty much lived in each others house. We were raised by each others parents and we watched out for each other. He taught me how to play guitar, as he was from a long family of professional musicians and had been playing in front of crowds since he was 8 years old. In fact his Dad used to play Steele guitar for an old Country Western legend.

As long as we are on the topic, his Dad was the example of what a family man should be, at least to a kid raised by a single mother. His Dad was a mechanic and he went to work everyday. He had a large detached garage that was filled with tools, old bicycles, musical instruments and home brew. Oh yeah, in that garage each weekend there was a gathering of friends, old and young, and they would sit around and play or sing or just listen. The whole family made their own brand of chalk beer, they called home brew.

Mike (my best friend) and I would hang out with them. Mike played guitar and drums so he was always in the music side. And we would all sip a bit of home made beer and make music until the neighbors called the cops. It was never a big deal since the mayor was usually there in the garage sipping beer and occasionally pissing in the front yard with the rest of us.

Mike's parents were older. They always seemed wiser and they were way more patient than I will ever be as a parent. They would do anything in the world for one of the kids or their friends. Mike and I once ran onto a cool old dude that made us laugh. He said with this goofy grin, "Old people are just cool. I think that's why I like being around my Dad so much." Funny how out of years and years of non stop chatter of little boys, I have that as a vivid memory of Mike. That and us steeling a tractor tire one day, but that's a different story.

As the song says "dragons live forever but not so little boys." When we reached high school we seemed to drift in different directions. We had different classes and different extracurricular events. We got different jobs and ended up with different friends. But I still feel that bond. I loved Mike as only a kid can love his best friend.

We have almost never talked since freshman year in high school. I moved away and he stayed home and had a family. I would visit and hear my friend's kids talk about how Mike was a terror on the baseball field and could play the guitar like nobody's business. Turns out it was Mike's son Mike Jr keeping the family tradition. Then I moved back home and he moved away. We have seen each other a couple of times in the past decade. We have never met each others children.

Today I was told Mike's Dad passed away at a hospital in Tulsa. The man had influences in my life even I may never realize. I have been trying to keep my shit together all day, but I keep seeing that goofy grin on 14 year old Mike's face when he said "Old people are just cool. I think that's why I like being around my Dad so much"

As if that were not enough there is a little town south of me. They used to be a big time railroad town about 100 years ago. Now they are just a backwater town that seems to have one tragedy after another. Not all that long ago two little girls were riddled to death by bullets just outside of town. The nation was shocked. Today, a big chunk of that town burned down.

Fires are everywhere right now. Grass fires surround us and the air is heavy and bitter with the smoke. The news is reporting some highways have been shut down because the smoke is so heavy that driving is impossible. All things considered this day sucks ass.

Oh yeah and my son impulsively decides to invite 4 of his best buddies to spend the night. No warnings, no kid foods, at the end of a long hard week. Did I mention this day sucks?

Not Complaining About Work

OK I decided some time last summer I don't want to the be blog that complains about how hard I am working and how busy its been lately. Nope, I don't want to be that guy anymore than I wanted to be the guy who kept complaining about Bush. ...eh-hem... I guess we can still hope I will not be the guy complaining about work.

I have put in some long hours. The other day I was so brain dead when I got in that I couldn't even think of how to write so I looked for ANY video to post because somehow I can't seem to keep from feeling I HAVE to post every day or I lose. ... eh... not that I am competitive.

In fact, I have kind of walked around in a stupor, to the point I was looking dully at my rows of medicine tonight and wondering if I have been accidentally taking my muscle relaxer. The world may never know the answer to that one! But it has been a long two weeks of early mornings and late nights. And no matter how focused you think you are, you can't keep your eye on the ball if the lids keep drooping down.

So this morning I show up for my Doctor's appointment. I got up about two hours before the appointment so I could stretch out my back muscles. I went in, they called me fat, and the appointment was on! When I was settling up my bill with the nurses one of them saw the flyer the doctor had given me for one of the medicines.

"Did he tell you to try that too?" she asked me. "He told me to try it so I am splitting it with a co-worker. We will see if it works, I guess"

We were talking about a dietary supplement that is supposed to suppress appetite and speed up your metabolism, and it is made from Apple Cider Vinegar. I was just happy he didn't tell me I had to drink the liquid (He did suggest that might help too) but they make it in a pill. "So how many pills will you guys have to take?" I asked. "A lot of these things make you take several pills a day."

The nurses looked at me calculatingly and said that was right. They had assumed it would be one pill a day. So I pointed out the flyer said there was 360 pills for a four month supply. "Well then!" said the head nurse (which it turns out she WILL NOT do what the title implies... at least not for my HMO) "That means you have to take at least two pills a day!"

I noticed she did not finish the mental calculation. My brain whirled and spun and I ... and I... I.. decided if she didn't care enough to do the math in her head I was not going to try.

Then tonight, about 12 hours later, my mind suddenly went 20+20+20=60 and three one hundreds... That's three pills a day! Ha! And I looked around to room so I could brag about my amazing mental math skills that only took me 12 hours to riddle out, and realized I was all alone.

And so I decided to post today in spite of feeling tired.

Rant on Tort Reform

Once again I am shooting for big rock star status on the internets by having a guest blogger. Tonight's guest is my cousin, a well known ambulance chaser in Oklahoma City.

Alright Cuz,

I usually join you in your rants and raves, and its my turn. Take a look at this.



First,... naturally I am completely biased, but . . . this is total horse shit. What really irritates and frustrates me is when the general public gets behind this so-called tort reform bullshit and praises it in all of its glory, because it limits those horrible trial attorneys. What the general public does not understand, or is in complete idiotic denial about, is that trial attorneys represent THEM against the companies and the industry that these laws protect, AND, these laws also limit what the juries can do and decide,... which is who??? The damn general public!

Lemmings!!!! Lemmings I tell you!!!! If there were justice in this world, every house member that voted to enact this bill and everyone who supported this bill, would, themselves, or through a close loved one, either be seriously injured by a drunk driver in a car wreck, or be victimized by horrific medical malpractice, immediately upon voting for this bill. And when they find out that the insurance companies no longer have anything to lose by NOT settling a case, and having to wait out 5 years of litigations and appeals, and then finally, after 5 years, have to listen to a jury foreman tell them something along the lines of "well, we would like to award you over $200k in future earnings, since you are now confined to a wheel chair for the rest of your life, and can no longer work, or feed your children,... but you thought that it would be best if you were only entitled to $200k . . . so good luck with that.

Every house member that voted for this has sold out to the insurance and medical industries. There is no factual support for any of the horse shit claims that this bill supposedly is intended to cure.

The one thing that I always tell everyone when we are talking about is this,... follow the money. Show me where the money really goes. Very very few trial lawyers are living in million dollar homes, and even fewer victims live in million dollar homes.... they are usually giving all of their money to hospice and home medical care. . . . Then show me the houses of insurance executives and doctors. And while you're at it,... google campaign contributions to the house members that voted for this, and I think you'll see what happened today.

Until Gov. Henry vetoes this tragedy, the general public was stripped of some of its rights today.

That's my rant for today. Thanks for listening.

Only it wasn't all for the day. See, I emailed my cousin and told him I agreed and have always said I would support tort reform as soon as the Legislature can limit the amount of damage another person can inflict on me. If they can't limit the amount of damage I can incur, you can bet your ass I don't think they should be able to limit the amount of compensation I receive for that damage.

SO I settled down to eat dinner and got a phone call from Ambulance Chaser who said "I'm not done yet!" Then he went on to tell me about a case he just argued that went to the Supreme Court (State I think) and his guy won. And I start thinking "Holy Crap my cousin might actually be GOOD at this attorney crap, I should ask for more free services!" But we talk politics and state idiots and we are both getting wound up when I hear a muffled sound in the background and Ambulance Chaser tells me he has to go his drive through order is ready.

Wow, for that brief shining moment I got a tele-look at life in the fast lane. Then I was hung-up on for an order of McFries.

Things That Are Just Wrong

Great News!!

When you go to Google and you enter in the search window "Opprobrious Blog," This site pops up as the top two responses!!

WOOHOO! It's like Steve Martin said in The Jerk when he saw his name in the phone book for the first time, "Now I AM somebody!"

The Day My Laptop Died

So Jr was stumbling around the house, board and without direction. He is grounded from all forms of entertainment except his I-Pod until he brings home proof his grades are acceptable. Naturally, he left all school books and assignments at school for the weekend rather than bringing them home where he could, you know... study!.

So we get to talking about the video camera and how he and his buddies shot some video. I suggested he use the movie editor on the computer to edit the best of the clips together and he could share with his friends. I almost didn't see him for the remainder of the weekend. He was holed up in the computer room with my lap top making his masterful movie debut.

Late last night he came into the den and proudly announced he was finished! Then he asked if I would like to see his movies. You KNOW I did! So I go in and watch about 20 minutes of three nerdy middle school kids running with my camcorder while screaming they were attacked by zombies. The thing is, the oldest of them decided to be the camera guy. Yet he also wanted to be the kind of guy who would run from a zombie. But he evidently didn't know how to run without looking through the veiwfinder, so it was 20 minutes of screaming while watching erratic video of some 14 year old kid's feet.

So Jr and I had a discussion of editing and how it means you cut away the bad parts. "But Dad... I did! There was hours of that stuff. I just left in the interesting parts."

...interesting parts? Interesting parts of some kid's tennis shoes running away and occasionally seeing some other kid's shoes and screaming and running away? I ask you, has there ever been better proof that video games rots the brains? Anyway, I am sure that after all of his downloads and over dubs and music tracks my computer will be shot. The hard drive will be permanently corrupted with dumbasserosis that can only be transmitted from middle school boys.

Now to be fair, Jr was not the camera man. Later they discovered the oldest kid was awful at filming and they simply placed the camera on my truck fender and acted in front of it. Of course it was dark, so they got out all of my rechargable lights for the impromptu night studio. Wow, what fun we could have had as kids if that stuff had been around way back when. As it was they have a cute little movie of themselves when they were young and still played with plastic Ninja swords. A time when running and screaming at the top of your lungs was fun and exhilarating and made you feel almost manly.

All too soon it will be fall and they will be Freshmen at High School. Then they will learn the long slow lessons that say running and screaming is not considered manly. It is not considered cool. Exuberant joy at simple play with friends is not socially acceptable in a world where boys want girls to like boys. Next year they will learn to be cool. But for this weekend, he is still my little boy.