Why guys are so cool...

1. Phone Conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
2. You know stuff about tanks.
3. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
4. You can open all your own jars.
5. Dry cleaners and hair cutters don't rob you blind.
6. You can go to the bathroom without a support group.
7. You don't have to learn to spell a new last name.
8. You can leave the motel bed unmade.
9. You can kill your own food.
10. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
11. Wedding plans take care of themselves.
12. If someone forgets to invite you to something, he or she can still be your friend.
13. Your underwear is $10 for a three-pack.
14. If you are 34 and single, nobody notices.
15. Everything on your face stays its original color.
16. You can quietly enjoy a car ride from the passenger's seat.
17. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
18. You don't have to clean your apartment if the meter reader is coming.
19. Car mechanics tell you the truth.
20. You can quietly watch a game with your buddy for hours without ever thinking: "He must be mad at me."
21. Same work...more pay.
22. Gray hair and wrinkles only add character.
23. Wedding dress - $2,000. Tuxedo rental - 75 bucks.
24. You don't mooch off other's desserts.
25. You can drop by to see a friend without having to bring a little gift.
26. If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, you just might become lifelong friends.
27. Your pals can be trusted never to trap you with. "So, notice anything different?"
28. You are not expected to know the names of more than five colors.
29. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
30. You almost never have strap problems in public.
31. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.
32. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.
33. You don't have to shave below your neck.
34. At least a few belches are expected and tolerated.
35. Your belly usually hides your big hips.
36. One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.
37. You can "do" your nails with a pocketknife.
38. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.
39. Christmas shopping can be accomplished for 25 relatives, on December 24th, in 45 minutes.

To Whom It May Concern

I Want To Be Six Again

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult, in order to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old. The tax base is lower. I want to be six again.

I want to go to McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them.

I want to play kickball during recess and stay up on Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.

I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but it didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care.

I want to go to school and have snack time, recess, gym and field trips.

I want to be happy, because I don't know what should make me upset.

I want to think the world is fair and everyone in it is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.

Sometime, while I was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies, unhappy marriages, illness, pain and mortality.

I want to be six again.

I want to think that everyone, including myself, will live forever, because I don't know the concept of death.

I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something used for escape from the things I should be doing.

I want to live knowing the little things that I find exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned them.

I want to be six again.

I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware of only the things that directly concerned me.

I want to be naive enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else.

I want to walk down the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet and the possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking for.

I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike, letting the grownups worry about time, the dentist and how to find the money to fix the old car.

I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up and what I'll be, who I'll be and not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.

I want that time back.

I want to use it now as an escape, so that when my computer crashes, or I have a mountain of paperwork, or two depressed friends, or a fight with my spouse, or bittersweet memories of times gone by, or second thoughts about so many things, I can travel back and build a snowman, without thinking about anything except whether the snow sticks together and what I can possibly use for the snowman's mouth.

I want to be six again.

RIP Cellini

Some weekend funnies

College Entrance Essay

3A. IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie.

Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400.

My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy.

I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations with the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin.

I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But I have not yet gone to college.

Are you serious?

Shout out to Walt!

It's Almost Halloween

It's almost Halloween, and that can mean only one thing. I must make fun of one of the most retarded TV shows ever created. CSI. Any of them. CSI:New York, CSI:Miami, CSI: Las Vegas, CSI:Trout Lick Michigan, you get the idea. And to sum it up, I'll express the inner most retardedness of said CSI shows in the form of a picture. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so after you check this out, I expect my change back.

As Suspected

Test yourself

Wandering around the internet and stumbled on this site. http://www.goldinuniverse.com/default.asp

Totally cool, here's what it said about me:



You are under considerable stress and you are almost about to 'blow your top' but you are fortunate enough to be able to exert control. Control is the name of the game and it is so good to realise that whatever the situation may be a this time - it will pass. You need to get away from everything for a while and if you do, you will find that, strangely enough, it will seem that most of your problems and situations will seem to wash away, just as the sea may wash away 'footprints' in the sand.


You are looking for excitement and stimulation and you are ready to try anything - but be careful not to take too many risks.


You are very demanding - and insisting on total involvement but you do not reciprocate with the same depth of feeling. However, it could well be that maybe an unprecedented surprise is awaiting you in the near future. For just as one whilst paddling in the sea, could flounder into a whirlpool, so you may be drawn into a loving situation that has high emotional demands - and you could well respond with a depth of emotion that you never even dreamed that you possessed.


Matters have not gone well for you. You are experiencing severe stress trying to guard yourself from further disappointments. It would seem that all of your hopes and dreams have not been realised and you are now beginning to doubt yourself. You no longer wish to be further advised by anyone and you insist on going it alone - to control your own destiny. Even though deep down you doubt whether things will get better in the future you have one consolation - and that is that they couldn't possibly get worse. Unwilling to give up anything that you possess, you are looking for some sort of security as a protection against any further setback or loss of position and prestige. You are so negative that you tend to exaggerate your problems and refuse to accept any advice from so called well-meaning friends.


Disappointment and the fear that there is no point in formulating fresh goals have led to anxiety and you are distressed by the lack of any close and understanding relationships. You feel you are not appreciated by those who matter to you. You are attempting to escape into a world on which you can relax and feel at ease.



Pretty much how I felt at the moment. I'll go back later in a few days and check it out again, see if I "improved."

Circle Circle Dot Dot

In life there are certainties. Things like Ben and Jerry's Phish Food is the best ice cream in the world. EA Sports NCAA Football is the best video game series ever. And I quite possibly rock the most awesome high and tight ever seen in the ICU. Since reliving the epic basketball career of my junior high school for the last two nights, I've also returned to another classic pass time I used to do during junior high. Dotting faces.

For the uninitiated, getting dotted in basketball terms means that someone shoots a jumper over a defender's outstretched arms, said defender just got "dotted." And since you are a loyal reader, you obviously immediately recall that my J is wetter than Billy Madison on a field trip, and have dotted more people than a herpes outbreak.

But since:
1. I'm working nights and have a whole new set of people to annoy/antagonize/terrorize.
2. I have a limited attention span and require almost constant supervision.
3. I have more free time than is legally allowable in a critical care setting.
I've decided to re institute the "dotting" aspect of junior high and bring it up to speed. Since I can't enthrall the rest of the hospital with my silk smooth J, I can in fact regale them with my mad IV skills.

Now, ICU generally has the more critical patients, requiring constant care, observation and attention. Since I work in an ICU that can be paralleled to a Nickelodeon show, this usually isn't the case, but we are requested on a regular basis to go to another ward to attempt an IV stick on "a difficult patient." Since this means I get some fresh air and am allowed to roam unsupervised until tracked down, I usually volunteer. This is where "dotting" comes into play. To "dot" someone means that they failed to get an IV, called the bullpen (my sport reference to ICU), and I successfully start the IV. And since I'm rocking a 117% success rate (wrap your mind around that), it's starting to look like a measles farm around here.

To add insult to injury (and who doesn't like to do that?), I instituted some rules to make it an official dotting.
1) The previous nurse has to have made an attempt to start the IV.
2) The "dot" must occur in front of that nurse, or staff of that ward.
3) I must let the nurse know after he/she gets "dotted" that I only practice nursing for maybe 30 seconds a day. Maybe.

So far I've dotted 4 out of 5 wards in a two night span, with 4West being dotted a ridiculous 4 times. The last time I started an IV up there was for the same nurse I dotted the night before. I dotted him so hard that the guy no longer knew how to use the Euler Method to approximate curvatures in a line segment when he got back up.

If you don't see our favorite ward on there (I'm looking at you 5 East) it's because they're a psyche ward and frown on IV usage there. So I'm looking at a 100% success rate with an asterisk. Not too shabby.

Dropping J's Like It's Hot

One of my greatest pleasures in life is getting on peoples nerves. It doesn't matter who it is, my boss, the person sitting next to me, that dude with the lazy eye who gives me my morning coffee at McDonalds, I'll invariably do/say/provoke something entirely inappropriate to make the situation 100% awkward. For them.

Case in point. If you're a faithful reader (and if you aren't, then why not?), then you know that I've been working the night shift for the past few days. Now normally you'd be concerned. Is The Kid getting enough sleep? Are his biorhythms in check? Do we need to alert any authorities? To put you at ease: yes, yes, and not yet.

You see, I have 4 other people working with me, with the occasional worker bee that comes in to draw blood or suction lung butter out of my ventilated dude, to provoke. And my weapon of provocation (what?) lately has telling long winded stories about my junior high basketball career.

Long story short, I was the tallest kid in my junior high class, listed at 5'10" but played like I was 5'11". I had more armpit hair than the rest of the junior high combined. I was an adolescent freak of nature who couldn't play basketball to save his life. But don't let that fool you. I shattered dreams, I shattered records, and when it was all said and done I shattered the ladies hearts.

I think I played, in my two year junior high basketball career, a total of 1 minute and 13 seconds. But I can milk that 73 seconds for all it's worth, making every deft pass an ESPN hi lite, every 3 point shot made (all 2 of them) a dagger in the heart of the opposition, every vicious bone crushing screen a statement of my white awesomeness. Case in point, I have spent over 3 hours following one of the nurses around telling him over and over again about my ridiculous jump shot. Granted, although both of my jump shots that I made in junior high were pretty much from NBA range, they were honestly desperation shots since everyone else on the team was covered and I didn't know how to dribble. One shot (which was nothing but net thank you very much) I literally heard an elderly woman in the stands say "That kid has the wettest J on the team!" The man was flexing his muscles and the fans liked what they saw. I could bring the rain.

How do I get 3 hours out of that? Very carefully, and with exacting detail. I figure I'm about 17 minutes away from getting a restraining order put against me.

Soccer scrimmage, and rubbing elbows with celebrities

Some of you might not know that I live in Oklahoma, and the first thing you think of when you hear Oklahoma is probably "bad dental plans," followed closely by "mullets." You're right on both accounts, but what I was really looking for was "rednecks with mad soccer skills." Nice try, thanks for playing!

I have 2 boys playing soccer this year, and when I say they're playing soccer, I mean they're being coached like the kids are defending the World Cup against Brazilian soccer cyborgs. I mean seriously, the kids are 4 and 7 and they're running practices close to 2 hours in length! Anyway, since I'm the prototypical ex-jock dad (read that as never played soccer and don't understand why there's so much running) I tend to get easily distracted at the practices. And that's how I got to meet Nickelodean celebrities Drake and Josh. Kinda.

I spent a majority of the scrimmage talking to two 8 year old kids who told me their names were "Drake and Josh." I called shenanigans on this. The kid who said his name was Josh then decided to claim that his name was "Gake" and I again called shenanigans. I was finally informed his name was "Jake" and since I rarely call shenanigans more than twice a day, I decided to let it slide. So Drake and Jake explained to me that the funniest thing ever would be to put a Sweet Tart in my water bottle. I told them the funniest thing ever could probably be found on YouTube. Jake then promptly ran onto the field, grabbed the soccer ball that was in play, kicked it into the water filled ditch and ran off with Drake. I assume that this kid is on the fast track to a life of breaking girls' hearts and eventually being arrested for fraud and embezzlement. Anyway, Drake and Jake were some pretty cool dudes who provided me with some quality entertainment, because let's be honest, seeing some of the best amateur athletes in the eastern Oklahoma area can get pretty boring.

Night Shift

Disregarding my occasionally infamous golf course outbursts, I have the kind of demeanor that would make historians describe me as “stoic” if I were a war general or the quarterback for the Steelers in the 1970s. For the most part, there really isn’t a whole lot in the world that gets me upset. All that changes when I work nights.

There are a few good things about working nights. The bosses aren't here, so anarchy rules. I have free reign of the break room fridge (no name means fair game when it comes to left overs), and I can pretty much camp out in the only room with a patient on a vent and have a marathon infomercial viewing session.

The parts that chap my ass include the sleep deprivation, the soul crushing boredom that hits at 2 in the morning, and the fact that all the good websites are blocked by the firewall. WTF? If it wasn't for the fact that I'm as tough as a ten penny nail I'd probably be reduced to a shell of a person, but here I am, in all my glory, keeping my one loyal follower happy. You are happy, aren't you?

Chuck is the Man!

Chuck Norris is the MAN, and if you don't believe me, just take a peep at these nationally recognized facts:

If you have five dollars and Chuck Norris has five dollars, Chuck Norris has more money than you.

There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris' computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.

Apple Pays Chuck Norris 99 cents every time he listens to a song.

Chuck Norris can sneeze with his eyes open.

Chuck Norris can eat just one Lay's potato chip.

Chuck Norris is suing Myspace for taking the name of what he calls everything around you.

Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of suprise.

Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.

Dudes Explained

Yeah, that's pretty much us.

Rules of Conflict

The Rules of Conflict, according to the various American forces...

US Army Rules

1. Be courteous to everyone, friendly to no one.
2. Decide to be aggressive enough, quickly enough.
3. Have a plan.
4. Have a back-up plan, because the first one probably won't work.
5. Be polite. Be professional. But, have a plan to kill everyone you meet.
6. Do not attend a gunfight with a handgun whose caliber does not start with a "4."
7. Anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice. Ammo is cheap. Life is expensive.
8. Move away from your attacker. Distance is your friend. (Lateral & diagonal preferred.)
9. Use cover or concealment as much as possible.
10. Flank your adversary when possible. Protect yours.
11. Always cheat; always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose.
12. In ten years nobody will remember the details of caliber, stance, or tactics. They will only remember who lived.
13. If you are not shooting, you should be communicating your intention to shoot...

Navy SEAL's Rules

1. Look very cool in sunglasses.
2. Kill every living thing within view.
3. Adjust speedo.
4. Check hair in mirror.

US Army Rangers Rules

1. Walk in 50 miles wearing 75 pound rucksack while starving.
2. Locate individuals requiring killing.
3. Request permission via radio from "Higher" to perform killing.
4. Curse bitterly when mission is aborted.
5. Walk out 50 miles wearing a 75 pound rucksack while starving.

Marine Corps Rules

1. Curse bitterly when receiving operational order.
2. Make sure there is extra ammo and extra coffee.
3. Curse bitterly.
4. Curse bitterly
5. Do not listen to 2nd Lieutenants, it can get you killed.
6. Curse bitterly!

US Air Force Rules

1. Have a cocktail.
2. Adjust temperature on air conditioner.
3. See what's on HBO.
4. Ask "what is a gunfight?"
5. Request more funding from Congress with a "killer" Power Point presentation.
6. Wine & dine 'key' Congressmen, invite DOD & defense industry executives.
7. Receive funding, set up new command and assemble assets.
8. Declare the assets "strategic" and never deploy them operationally.
9. Hurry to make 13:45 tee time.
10. Make sure the base is as far as possible from the conflict but close enough to have tax exemption.

US Navy Rules

1. Go to Sea.
2. Drink Coffee.
3. Deploy Marines

And Now You Know

Today, I realized the word bed actually looks like a bed.

Football season is upon us

Football season. The smell of fallen leaves, the crisp air, ESPN College GameDay on the tube. Pure bliss. Unless, like me, you live in Oklahoma (not from here, just have to live here, don't judge me) and have to deal with the OU bandwagon. Kind of depressed about the whole situation, then I saw this guy. Umm, yeah. GO SOONERS!

I know, I miss you guys too

A Joke A Day...

A Truly Touching Story

In 1986, Mikele Mebembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Mikele approached it very carefully.

He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant’s foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Mikele worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Mikele stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away. Mikele never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Mikele was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mikele and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mikele, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mikele couldn’t help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mikele summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walk ed right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Mikele’s legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly. Probably wasn’t the same elephant.

The Cheat

Richard Turner is The Man. And when I mean The Man, I mean he's the guy who's going to wander up to the card table, shake your hand, shuffle the cards, and beat you about the head with them until you cry blood. Watch the video below. What he's doing is called center dealing. He's dealing cards from the dead middle of the deck. 90% of the people in the world can't deal a card from the top without developing carpal tunnel syndrome, and this guy is dealing cards invisibly from halfway down the deck. Oh yeah, he's also BLIND. Wrap your mind around THAT.

Is There A Santa Claus?

Consider the following:

1)  No known species of reindeer can fly.  BUT there are 300,000
species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of
these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying
reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

2)  There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT
since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and
Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total -
378 million according to Population Reference Bureau.  At an average
(census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million
homes.
One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

3)  Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the
different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he
travels east to west (which seems logical).

This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for
each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a
second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill
the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat
whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back
into the sleigh and move on to the next house.

Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed
around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the
purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking
about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles,
not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every
31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second,
3,000 times the speed of sound.  For purposes of comparison, the
fastest man- made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at
a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops,
15 miles per hour.

4)  The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element.
Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego
set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting
Santa, who is invariably described as overweight.

On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds.
Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN
TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even
nine.

We need 214,200 reindeer.  This increases the payload - not even
counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for
comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

5)  353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous
air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion
as spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere.  The lead pair of
reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy.  Per second.
Each.

In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing
the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their
wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26
thousandths of a second.

Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06
times greater than gravity.  A 250-pound Santa (which seems
ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by
4,315,015 pounds of force.>
In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve,
he's dead now.

Greatest book review ever

A friend recently pointed me to the greatest book review I have ever read on Amazon, and I am reposting it here for your enjoyment. Trust me, it’s not what you think it is.

“Please allow me to share with you how “The Secret” changed my life and in a very real and substantive way allowed me to overcome a severe crisis in my personal life. It is well known that the premise of “The Secret” is the science of attracting the things in life that you desire and need and in removing from your life those things that you don’t want. Before finding this book, I knew nothing of these principles, the process of positive visualization, and had actually engaged in reckless behaviors to the point of endangering my own life and wellbeing.
At age 36, I found myself in a medium security prison serving 3-5 years for destruction of government property and public intoxication. This was stiff punishment for drunkenly defecating in a mailbox but as the judge pointed out, this was my third conviction for the exact same crime. I obviously had an alcohol problem and a deep and intense disrespect for the postal system, but even more importantly I was ignoring the very fabric of our metaphysical reality and inviting destructive influences into my life.
My fourth day in prison was the first day that I was allowed in general population and while in the recreation yard I was approached by a prisoner named Marcus who calmly informed me that as a new prisoner I had been purchased by him for three packs of Winston cigarettes and 8 ounces of Pruno (prison wine). Marcus elaborated further that I could expect to be [...] raped by him on a daily basis and that I had pretty eyes.
Needless to say, I was deeply shocked that my life had sunk to this level. Although I’ve never been homophobic I was discovering that I was very rape phobic and dismayed by my overall personal street value of roughly $15. I returned to my cell and sat very quietly, searching myself for answers on how I could improve my life and distance myself from harmful outside influences. At that point, in what I consider to be a miraculous moment, my cell mate Jim Norton informed me that he knew about the Marcus situation and that he had something that could solve my problems. He handed me a copy of “The Secret”. Normally I wouldn’t have turned to a self help book to resolve such a severe and immediate threat but I literally didn’t have any other available alternatives. I immediately opened the book and began to read.
The first few chapters deal with the essence of something called the “Law of Attraction” in which a primal universal force is available to us and can be harnessed for the betterment of our lives. The theoretical nature of the first few chapters wasn’t exactly putting me at peace. In fact, I had never meditated and had great difficulty with closing out the chaotic noises of the prison and visualizing the positive changes that I so dearly needed. It was when I reached Chapter 6 “The Secret to Relationships” that I realized how this book could help me distance myself from Marcus and his negative intentions. Starting with chapter six there was a cavity carved into the book and in that cavity was a prison shiv. This particular shiv was a toothbrush with a handle that had been repeatedly melted and ground into a razor sharp point.
The next day in the exercise yard I carried “The Secret” with me and when Marcus approached me I opened the book and stabbed him in the neck. The next eight weeks in solitary confinement provided ample time to practice positive visualization and the 16 hours per day of absolute darkness actually made visualization about the only thing that I actually could do. I’m not sure that everybody’s life will be changed in such a dramatic way by this book but I’m very thankful to have found it and will continue to recommend it heartily.”

And it begins...

And here we go. Been looking to drop some weight for a while, been feeling very run down and tired. The Crossfit is kicking my butt and I seriously need to revamp my diet. So here it goes, for the next 30 days I'm going to seriously watch what I eat and try to stick as close to a Paleo diet as I can and avoid dairy, starch, breads and sugar. This is going to suck.

Weighed myself last night before my shower and I was 209.5 lbs, looking to be under 200 by the end of the month. If I can clean up my diet it shouldn't be a problem. Back when I was wrestling I had no problem cutting weight, could go days without eating junk food, but now I can hardly walk through the kitchen without grabbing something unhealthy. What's up with that?

So I'll try and keep all of you guys updated (all one of you) as to how things are going, how I'm feeling, diet changes and all that. It's gonna be five types of interesting! Yeah, whatever.

100 Pushup Challenge and another review

Way back in the day when I was stationed with the Marines, we did a lot of push ups. A lot. Large quantities. Numerous push ups of every shape and size. Now that I'm older, fatter, and in dire need of getting into shape I've been reevaluating the push up. I've started a push up regime with a goal of 100 consecutive push ups (done correctly, none of this bobbing up and down junk) and I've been experimenting with a piece of equipment that has been kicking my butt. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the Perfect Push up (cue angelic music).

First, a little bit about the push up. While push ups themselves are very simple exercises to perform, they are actually bio-mechanically a very sophisticated exercise, recruiting nearly every major muscle group in some way to support the body during the movement (provided you are doing them with correct form.)
The push up is also extremely versatile, letting you emphasize certain muscle groups by simple changes in hand-arm positioning (wide versus narrow), incline or decline, or through elevation of the hands, which deepens the range of motion.

I don't have a very good history with push ups, for some reason my elbows like to drift out to the sides and I recruit more shoulder than chest. This has given me some problems with my shoulders and they tend to get rotator cuff injuries fairly often. Also, because the hands are in a fixed position, the wrists tend to become strained fairly easily. The Perfect Push Up corrects these problems for me, and also offers some added benefits.

The Perfect Push up basically takes a standard push up bar, which keeps your wrists in a neutral, non-bent position, and attaches the push up bar to a rotating base. This base allows you to maintain neutral wrist position while simultaneously rotating your arms (primarily at the wrist.) This ability to rotate is intended to allow you to compensate for your own bio-mechanics by taking stress off from the wrists and shoulders. If you've seen the commercial, it's like throwing a punch at the floor. The added twist in the movement recruits more stabilizer muscles and gives you a better bang for the buck. I've noticed new soreness in my lats, shoulders, chest and surprisingly in my abs. Doing the push ups correctly (IE SLOWLY and in good form) has really helped my abs and lower back.

Overall, I highly recommend the Perfect Push Up. Using this as an aid has made me pay more attention to form and offered a greater challenge than just push ups alone. I think I'm about 4 weeks from doing 100 consecutive push ups in good form, and it's been almost 10 years since the last time I could do that. You can pick one up for about $20 at Wal-Mart or any other retail store.

My Favorite Stephen King short story

I'm a huge Stephen King fan. My dad is a big reader and had a pretty decent sized library down in the basement. Stephen's books took up a good sized portion on one of the shelves, and during my teenage years I read all of King's books as fast as I could. I saw one book next to it that I had regularly ignored since it didn't have King's name on it. My dad recommended it to me, explaining, "It's written by Stephen King, just under a different name." I read it, loved it, and a fan of Richard Bachman/Stephen King was born.

The Long Walk is one of four short stories in The Bachman Books, published under the name Richard Bachman. The story is set in the "near future" around the annual Long Walk contest. Each year 100 boys are selected out of a pool to participate in this event, with the winner of the walk receiving The Prize - anything the winner wants for the rest of his life. Girls need not apply. Apparently the near future is sexist in nature.

Sounds like a pretty good deal, doesn't it? The catch is this. The 100 boys start at the Canadian/Maine border and walk south along the highway. If they walk slower than 4 mph for 30 seconds in an hour (all of the boys are monitored by following trucks filled with soldiers) they get a warning. Three warnings and you get a Ticket. Meaning you get shot. Dead. Game over. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200. You can get a warning erased from your record by going a full hour without getting a warning. So, if you have no warnings, within 2 minutes you can go from sitting pretty to lying face down in the road with acute lead poisoning. So it's 100 boys walking south waiting for 99 of them to crap out and get eliminated in the truest sense of the word.

Warnings are also given for infractions such as "assaulting other walkers or getting aid from the spectators", and instant Tickets are punched for "attacking the vehicles and/or soldiers, or attempting to leave the road." There are no rests stops, they get all the water they want from canteen provided by the accompanying soldiers, are issued daily rations at 9 AM every day, and all of their "business" has to be taken care of while walking.

This is a physical and mental trial that I think could make a brilliant movie if it followed the book. There is a lot of psychological intrigue in to why these boys signed up for this, the alliances formed, and the all too real truth of death. One of the walkers signed up as a means of suicide. How messed up is that? The walk itself is kind of a by line (IMHO), the real meat of the story lies in the characters. The partnerships, the antagonists, the internal struggle with knowing that there is a 1% chance of winning. How many people would knowingly go into something like this knowing that there is a 99% chance of them dying. In front of spectators. Oh yeah, people line all up and down the road watching these guys walk. It's like the Super Bowl, World Series and NCAA Basketball Finals all rolled into one.

Sadly, The Bachman Books is no longer in print, but a copy is easily picked up second hand on the Internet. Another short story, Rage, is a strong resemblance to the recent Columbine shootings that have been occurring lately (albeit written in the early 70's, it is eerily prophetic). As stated on Stephen King's website, "There will be no future printings of this book at Stephen's request due to the sensitive nature of the material found in Rage." If you want to pick up a copy, hit your local library or just break down and by it here.

This made my day

Post Office Rant

To the jerk at the post office who held up the line for 17 minutes (yes, I timed it) while weighing and stamping 4 boxes of packages and letters.

I mean, seriously. We know you're a big wheeler and dealer in the Ebay game, we heard about it multiple times during this mailing process, which I believe started sometime roughly in the Paleolithic Age. We don't care that you're making a killing on Ebay. We don't care that you can quit your regular job "in a few years" and live solely off the Ebay tit. We don't care that "this is the third month in a row of growing profits!"

All I wanted to do was hop in, mail out my package, and be on my merry way. Still, even my humble wishes seem to be out of reach. What we do care is that you're holding up a line of people for something that should have been done at your house. Wow, here's some more people coming in, assessing the situation and then hunkering down with the rest of us while to diddle around up there and launch into another epic tale of internet glory.

Here's a hint. Write this down, idiot. When even the postal worker recommends that you get a postal scale for your home, i'd take it as a very very strong hint. Look to the left, see that postal scale on the wall. It's for sale. Buy it. Take it home, get online and buy some postage. I'll even give you a head start. Go to www.usps.com and buy some. Then, weigh and print out your own postage at home and regale your cat or dog with whimsical stories of how Mrs. Muddlehoffer in Bent Elk, North Dakota got totally screwed on the commemorative Elvis plate you're sending her. I don't care that you got it at some garage sale for $2 and sold it to some housewife for $30. The 11 other people with me don't care. Oh, and the best part is that since you make a sizeable income from this Ebay thing, IT'S ALL TAX DEDUCTABLE. That means it's pretty much FREE! So thanks for making me wait all that time with 3 kids, a bunch of pissed off rednecks and one increasingly pissed off postal worker. You know they're on a hair trigger as it is.

Oh, and it really put the cherry on our sundae when you took out the paperback book and started reading. Nice. Epic. You sir, have cast iron balls. Thanks for making my life and my time that much more precious. Dick.

I knew he was out there!

The Man Box

Every guy should have a man box. A man box, to the uninitiated, is a box (duh) that a guy uses to put mementos, personal affects or cool little trinkets to pass on to their kids. I've had one for about 20 years, and the contents are ever changing. Currently this is what's in my box.







I use an old Jack Daniel's tin. Why?

#1. Because it's freakin' cool.

#2. Because I have a lot of crap that a cigar box wouldn't hold

#3. I like JD. Don't judge me.




And this, ladies and gentlepeople, is the contents:














Let's break it down, starting at 12 o'clock high on the picture. That's at the tippy top for all you public school kids.

Various patches, rank insignia, military patches, unit coin and my Navy ring. The smaller gold ring is the signet ring my grandfather wore when he was alive. Going clockwise we have a money clip (i have no money, so the clip is delegated to the box), a Fleet Marine Force Special Warfare qualification badge, my dog tags with jerry rigged silencers on the chain, a couple of extra medals from back in the day, a Good Conduct (suprised?) and National Defense, my SOG knife I used while in the Gulf, and at the 6 o'clock position a mouth piece. I have a thing about my teeth, and one of my old room mates was a dental tech and made if for me. Again, don't judge. Kind of in the middle are a couple of pocket knives, my grandpa's watch, about 3/4 of my ribbons and awards (GO NAVY!), my boatswain's pipe (not the cool kind, settle down kids), and a necklace my parents gave me when I graduated high school. I think they were kind of relieved. And finally a handful of the old silver half dollars. Just because.

So get out there, gather up your little bits o'you and put them together in a place the kids aren't allowed to mess with. Let it be the "mystery box." Or the Man Box, whatever.

Cross what?

A few posts ago I did a quick review of the GymBoss and mentioned Crossfit, and which you probably when “huh?” And since it’s bad manners to talk about something in which you have absolutely no knowledge (all of my one readers) I’m going to take some time to explain exactly what Crossfit is, why you should seriously consider giving it a shot, and some resources for you to look up some more in depth information.

From the official website here Crossfit:
CrossFit is the principal strength and conditioning program for many police academies and tactical operations teams, military special operations units, champion martial artists, and hundreds of other elite and professional athletes worldwide. Our program delivers a fitness that is, by design, broad, general, and inclusive. Our specialty is not specializing. Combat, survival, many sports, and life reward this kind of fitness and, on average, punish the specialist.The CrossFit program is designed for universal scalability making it the perfect application for any committed individual regardless of experience. We’ve used our same routines for elderly individuals with heart disease and cage fighters one month out from televised bouts. We scale load and intensity; we don’t change programs.

In other words, it’s gonna kick your ass.

The part about Crossfit that I enjoy the most is the variations in the workout. One day you’ll be doing Olympic lifts like cleans or deadlifts, the next day you’re getting a pain storm of metabolic conditioning – sprints, high rep exercises and agility drills. You’re never bored, but man are you challenged! If workouts with names like “Fight Gone Bad”, “3 Bars of Death”, “Tabata This” sound bad ass, read on my friend.

I first came across the site about 9 months ago when I was looking up calisthenics and body weight exercises. I was using primarily body weight exercises like squats, pushups, dips, chins and the like and was getting OK results, I was just looking for something to kick up the intensity a little bit, maybe find a new wrinkle on an old exercise. I actually found some video of guys on YouTube doing one of the benchmark CrossFit workouts Fran. A lot of the workouts are named after women, fallen soldiers/sailors/Marines, or firefighters/policemen. A common question on message boards are things like “What’s your Fran time?” Anyway, back to our regular scheduled program.

Since you have absolutely no idea what a Fran workout is, here’s the skinny. It’s 3 sets of two exercises, the push press (hold the barbell at shoulder height in front of you, squat, and when you stand press the weight overhead to full extension) and the chin-up. For guys, the weight on the push press is 95 lbs, for women it’s 65 lbs. Three sets of 21 – 15- 9 repetitions done as fast as you can. Try it, I’ll wait. You back? Sucks, doesn’t it? These guys did it in a little over 2 minutes. It took me over 12 minutes to do mine, and I’m pretty sure I miscounted a bunch of reps in the middle due to lack of oxygen. I’ve played football, wrestled, did 12 years in the military and trained with some Special Forces bubbas, and nothing kicked my ass as bad as that workout. I was hooked.
Since starting this program, which I’ve scaled quite a bit since I’m pretty much an aerobic/anaerobic slug, I’ve lost about 15 pounds and gotten quite a bit stronger. It’s nothing like some of these guys that you can find on YouTube, but I feel pretty good about my accomplishments so far. My goals now are to get down to my high school wrestling weight of around 175-180 lbs, and to get my Fran time under 4 minutes. There are a slew of named workouts on the website, but I’m considering the Fran to be my baby since it was my baptism into the program.

If you’re interested in giving this a shot, here’s what I recommend. Go to the website here clicky! and click on the Start Here button on the left (duh). It gives a quick breakdown of what the program is about, how to scale your workouts (substituting different exercises for ones you can’t do, decreasing weights and the like), diet recommendations, and pretty much everything you need to know. Then, pick a workout that you want to try and slowly go through it, especially if you’ve never done any of the exercises before. I recommend staying away from any of the Olympic lifts if you’ve never been properly trained in them. It’s a good way to put yourself in a world of hurt doing that. After running through the workout slowly, do it as intensely as you can. Take a break if you need to, you’re not out to impress anyone. Get a feel for the program, push yourself past the comfort zone. You’ll do more in 10 minutes doing Crossfit than anyone else in the gym.

If you become a CrossFit convert, sign up for the daily newsletter. Each day you’ll get a WOD (workout of the day), some nutrition tips, links to articles and some general motivational stuff. Some of the articles are for CrossFit subscribers only, but for $25 you get all access to all of their articles in their library. It’s a killer deal.

All throughout the states there are affiliate CrossFit sites, gyms run by certified CrossFit trainers. I have yet to go to one, but there are a couple in the Tulsa area that I’d love to try. The vast majority offer scheduled classes as well as one-on-one training. The benefit of visiting an affiliate and meeting with a trainer is that they can ensure you that the workouts that you are doing are safe for you, and they can correct any deficiencies. Plus the motivation factor alone is worth the money. Every gym has a bona fide “fire breather,” the alpha athlete who destroys the workouts and sets the bar for the rest of the people in the class. It’s not too difficult to go easy on yourself when you working out with just your lonesome, but if the guy next to you is putting out and making you look like you’re in slow motion, then it’s game on!

The beauty of Crossfit is the constant adaptation. You’re fighting the clock, the amount of reps you did last time, your intestinal fortitude. Go ahead and try it, you know you want to. Drink the kool aid, you know you want to!

Happy Easter!

In the pursuit of fitness

How many people here work out on a regular basis? Anyone? Bueller….Bueller? I’ve been actively following Crossfit (http://www.crossfit.com/) and doing a lot of Tabata work (another post soon to come). A lot of the work is timed or set up in intervals. Since I have the attention span of a gnat, I need all the help I can get to keep me moving in the workout without constantly looking at the clock. The solution? The GymBoss.

GymBoss is an interval timer that allows you to focus on your workout and not bother yourself with tracking time. It’s hands down the best workout investment I’ve made in years. All I have to do is hit start and start cranking out the reps, the GymBoss will beep and/or vibrate to let me know when to rest, change exercises, or call it a day.

It costs less than $20, is solidly built, and runs off of one AAA battery. If you’re a boxer, Crossfitter, interval trainer or anyone serious about fitness, you NEED this. Can’t recommend it highly enough. Visit the boys at http://www.gymboss.com/ and tell them kid iowa sent ya!

Getting my feet wet, and a little magishing

OK, the initial post was kind of a cheap way to kick off a blog, so here’s an official post (yay me)!

I’ve been into magic since as far back as I can remember. The sleight of hand kind, not the card game for those of you keeping score. The earliest I can remember being interested was when I was about 4 or 5 and one of my Dad’s friends made a rope penetrate his neck. The dude looked like Jesus, and after I saw him do the trick, I believed he was Jesus. I got a magic set for Christmas or my birthday or something, and my interest in legerdemain (as we call it in the biz) was started.

So I figured an easy way to ease into this whole blog thing would be to tell you a little bit about some of the magicians that I’ve admired. The majority you’ll probably never heard of, some you may.

Ricky Jay- You may recognize him from bit parts in several movies such as The Prestige, Heist, or HBO’s Deadwood. He is regularly consulted for gambling and magic advice for movies and television shows, and in my opinion is the top sleight of hand artist alive. If you can track down a copy, I highly recommend watching his HBO special Ricky Jay and His 52 Assistants. Pure poetry. The above photo is from his rendition of the cups and balls from his show that he calls “The History Lesson.” Insanely skilled at sleight of hand, a master of card scaling, an actor, author and scholar, the man is a virtual walking encyclopedia of magic and side show oddities. Here’s a link to a piece that the Times did on him. A great read. http://www.rickyjay.com/#
http://www.rickyjay.com/



Gazzo- Gazzo is a British import busker who has spent the majority of his time up and down the east coast following the money. Renowned for his cutting edge humor and his cups and balls routine, he has sprouted dozens of Gazzo clones that copy his style verbatim. But you can’t beat the original. Rumor central has it that Gazzo used to be THE MAN when it came to doing the punch deal, but a stroke back in the 90’s has hindered some of the fine motor skills. I’ve been interested in busking for quite a few years, and Gazzo was one of the first buskers that I’ve seen on tape, and I can’t imagine what a live show would be like. Currently Gazzo is back in the UK making fat hats, hand made busking pouches and doing the occasional lecture.
http://www.beatthecheat.com/


Cellini- Many people, myself included, consider Cellini to be the Godfather of busking. He is currently living in Switzerland, and has recently suffered a stroke. A student of Slydini, Cellini emphasizes simplicity and misdirection to showcase some of the most beautiful magic in the world today. Kozmo at http://www.kozmomagic.com/ has all of Cellini’s dvd’s, which are in my opinion must haves. Cellini’s work with the flip stick floored me the first time I saw it, and I’ve been a fan ever since.

Penn and Teller- The original Bad Boys of Magic. You can’t have one without the other, it’s kind of a union thing. Originally a juggler, Penn Jillette (the tall, loud one), met up with Teller (the quiet one, and incidently one of the very few people in the world with only one name on his passport) back in the 70’s, started busking (do I see a trend?) and are currently one of the top shows in Las Vegas. Numerous appearances on David Letterman, TV specials, movies, radio shows, books, and numerous other things later (kind of ran out of steam there) they’re at the top of the magic game. If you like podcasts, I recommend Penn Says, which can be found on YouTube or Itunes.
http://www.pennandteller.com/


The Amazing Jonathan- Another former busker, AJ is currently headlining in Las Vegas. Known as the “Freddy Kruger of Magic”, his comedy is interjected with magic and intermittent torturing of his partner Psychic Sandra.
http://www.amazingj.com/

There are numerous other magicians that I admire and am fascinated with, but I’ll save those for another post or two. This is a little something to get my feet wet, work on my writing and get something out there that maybe someone will get a kick out of. Feel free to drop a comment (drop a prop!), hate mail, or any general discontent.

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