Normally, my father is a great go to man for advice. Once in a while, however, he comes up with something a bit odd. I am sure he could find great success as an employee at despair.com, the creators of this fine piece of demotivational art...
3.27.2007
Quotable
"Pursue yesterday as if today never happened." - Dad Casey
Normally, my father is a great go to man for advice. Once in a while, however, he comes up with something a bit odd. I am sure he could find great success as an employee at despair.com, the creators of this fine piece of demotivational art...
Normally, my father is a great go to man for advice. Once in a while, however, he comes up with something a bit odd. I am sure he could find great success as an employee at despair.com, the creators of this fine piece of demotivational art...
3.14.2007
2.27.2007
Geriatric
No vehicle is more geriatric than a Lincoln Continental. I have never seen a Continental driven by any one under the age of sixty. Lincolns in general scream "look at me, I'm old."
(Dad, if you're reading this, please don't buy any vehicle made by Lincoln!)
The only thing that could be more geriatric than a Lincoln Continental is a Lincoln Continental with a bumper sticker that reads: My other car is a bingo bus.
(Dad, if you're reading this, please don't buy any vehicle made by Lincoln!)
The only thing that could be more geriatric than a Lincoln Continental is a Lincoln Continental with a bumper sticker that reads: My other car is a bingo bus.
2.15.2007
Decorations: Prepared for any holiday
The various departments at my workplace have free reign to decorate their area with whichever holiday or season they choose. For some groups, this liberty works well; other groups display their unfamiliarity with the calendar.
Example: There are to departments that share a floor. The first department split their area in half. Their floor space is decorated in glittery foil shapes, streamers, and holiday appropriate messages: half red and pink hearts, half green clovers. That’s great. They’ve got their bases covered for Valentines Day (just passed) and St. Patrick’s Day (soon to come).
The other department has not been as successful in planning their decorations. Suspended from their ceilings are star shaped pinwheels, made of construction paper, and roughly fifteen inches across. The pinwheels are well crafted, but their color combinations puzzle me. First option: red, white, and green. Second option: orange, yellow, and green. If they are trying to maintain a festive atmosphere and help our employees recognize holidays, a calendar consultation might be warranted. As it is now, it appears they have forgotten that Christmas is nearly two months passed and Cinco de Mayo is not till… well, the 5th of May.
Example: There are to departments that share a floor. The first department split their area in half. Their floor space is decorated in glittery foil shapes, streamers, and holiday appropriate messages: half red and pink hearts, half green clovers. That’s great. They’ve got their bases covered for Valentines Day (just passed) and St. Patrick’s Day (soon to come).
The other department has not been as successful in planning their decorations. Suspended from their ceilings are star shaped pinwheels, made of construction paper, and roughly fifteen inches across. The pinwheels are well crafted, but their color combinations puzzle me. First option: red, white, and green. Second option: orange, yellow, and green. If they are trying to maintain a festive atmosphere and help our employees recognize holidays, a calendar consultation might be warranted. As it is now, it appears they have forgotten that Christmas is nearly two months passed and Cinco de Mayo is not till… well, the 5th of May.
2.11.2007
What "If"
Close your eyes and imagine for a moment... Wait, on second thought, don't close your eyes. If you do, you won't be able to continue reading.
So, just imagine with me. Picture yourself in the morning drive-through at McDonald's. A pleasant voiced McD's employee takes your order. Once ordered, she asks, "Is that everything?" Indeed it is; like me, you would be a much heavier man if you ordered much more than the usual pre-church Sunday morning grease with a side of hash browns.
She then prefaces your grand total with an interesting disclaimer: "If you order is correct, your total is..."
IF?! What do you mean IF? There should be no if in fast food. Now I'm sure she was innocently trying to direct my attention to the large electronic readout of my order where I could verify the accuracy of my order, but too many people have had too many orders turn out wrong for any fast food employee to say the words "If your order is correct."
After a statement like that, I almost expect the person at the second window to say, "Here's your bag of food. If your order is not correct, don't complain; you had your chance to make sure it was accurate."
Hmm. What would happen if we all lived by that rule of "IF?"
So, just imagine with me. Picture yourself in the morning drive-through at McDonald's. A pleasant voiced McD's employee takes your order. Once ordered, she asks, "Is that everything?" Indeed it is; like me, you would be a much heavier man if you ordered much more than the usual pre-church Sunday morning grease with a side of hash browns.
She then prefaces your grand total with an interesting disclaimer: "If you order is correct, your total is..."
IF?! What do you mean IF? There should be no if in fast food. Now I'm sure she was innocently trying to direct my attention to the large electronic readout of my order where I could verify the accuracy of my order, but too many people have had too many orders turn out wrong for any fast food employee to say the words "If your order is correct."
After a statement like that, I almost expect the person at the second window to say, "Here's your bag of food. If your order is not correct, don't complain; you had your chance to make sure it was accurate."
Hmm. What would happen if we all lived by that rule of "IF?"
1.31.2007
When music lovers become parents
Who's idea was it to let Bekah and I become parents? There must be something wrong with us, some mental deficiency... as we attempted to teach our son the chorus to Under the Bridge. Why we did this is still a mystery, but all intentions aside, the result is different than expected.
His version is in bold. In case you are not familiar with the song, the real lyrics follow.
I-oh whan feeeeel (I don't ever want to feel)
Ike a day! (Like I did that day)
Take luv (Take me to the place I love)
Awl duhway (Take me all the way)
List of people that don't deserve to be parents; who, by the grace of God, have been blessed with children that will hopefully grow up to be nothing like their parents:
Nicholas Casey
Bekah Casey
Add your name here _________________
His version is in bold. In case you are not familiar with the song, the real lyrics follow.
I-oh whan feeeeel (I don't ever want to feel)
Ike a day! (Like I did that day)
Take luv (Take me to the place I love)
Awl duhway (Take me all the way)
List of people that don't deserve to be parents; who, by the grace of God, have been blessed with children that will hopefully grow up to be nothing like their parents:
Nicholas Casey
Bekah Casey
Add your name here _________________
1.23.2007
The Pillsbury Dough Boy and the Burger King Security Guard
Yes, you did read that correctly, Burger King had a security guard. I was just as confused as you probably are now. Why? For what reason would a fast food joint in a Seattle suburb need to hire a security guard? I have been in numerous Burger Kings between Seattle and Denver (even one in Canada) and I have never seen a security guard patrolling the grounds. Not even in the Burger King in downtown Seattle. Nor have I seen them in any other fast food chain.
It was a strange sight, at 19, walking into the Evergreen Way Burger King in south Everett, to see a security guard. I grew up on Burger King (my parents had a strange aversion to McDonalds) and the security guard feature was new to me, as was the rest of the BK dough boy experience.
It was the last summer before I moved away from home, and much of my adventures were a last hurrah before Shane, T-Dog, and I started out on our own. There were six of us that night: Pike and his sister Shelly, Nick and his sister Jen, Shane, and myself. We had been hanging out at the Everett Mall for most of the afternoon and evening; as closing time approached we found ourselves bored, hungry, and cruising north on Evergreen. Shane and I were the drivers. Nick and Shelly rode with Shane while Pike and Jen were in my car. Shane pulled off first and I followed him into the Burger King Parking lot, beginning the most unlikely of adventures.
Once inside, the security guard was the most prominent figure behind the counter. Dressed in a Charlie Brown yellow shirt, tight enough to be painted on, tucked in to too tight black denim that would have been better fitting on a Chippendales dancer, this meathead was built like a genetic crossbreed of a buffalo and a honey bee... hopped up on steroids. He was brooding and bald; not the male pattern baldness that will someday consume my hair, but the redneck Neo-Nazi I shave my head with a strait edge razor kind of bald. The long lost Stryper fan looked out of place behind the counter. Adding to the oddity, he walked around insulting the kitchen staff, slapping “kick me I’m stupid” signs to the back of the nerdy kid working the cash register, while sucking down a king sized chocolate milk shake. He finished off that shake and refilled it with more of the frosty brown dairy product before we even had a chance to order. The addition of six new customers did not diminish the flow of insults and emotional abuse the security guard inflicted upon his coworkers, if anything he increased his efforts to humiliate the BK staff as if he was performing for an audience.
Part of me felt pity for the poor BK employees for having to endure such torture. The other part of me wanted to jump the counter and punch the guy, but I resisted. Somehow, I felt that punching the security guard would be equivalent to a rabbit trying to tackle an elephant.
I ordered a hamburger - ketchup only, but they ran out of ketchup so I ate it dry. Jen ordered a chocolate milkshake, but they ran out of chocolate (seems the security guard drank the last of it). Instead Jen ordered vanilla. Other things that Burger King ran out of that night: cheese, salt, onion rings, napkins, and ice. The place was falling apart: the abusive security guard, the employees near tears, and a stock supply that seemed like they had not received a delivery in months.
It was not a pleasant experience, but the six of us made the best of it. At the front of the store was a five foot tall cardboard cut out of the Pillsbury dough boy (and you were wondering what the dough boy had to do with this story). The giant dough boy was advertising the new miniature cinnamon rolls Burger King had added to their breakfast menu. We joked about how it would match the décor in Shane’s room. We left, everyone except Shane... something about having to use the restroom. Huddled by the cars, Nick and Shelly waited for Shane to unlock his doors so we could leave.
Moments later, we heard someone inside shout “HEY” and Shane burst through the doors, Pillsbury dough boy in hand.
“Nic, do you have a rope?” he asked me. “We need to attach this to your car.”
I did not have a rope, but I did have a sunroof. Shane threw the large piece of cardboard onto the roof of my Acura Legend, opened up his car, and started the engine. I opened up my sunroof and employed the only method available to secure the dough boy: Pike reached up and held on to it with both hands, making sure it would not blow off as we drove away. Again, I followed Shane. He turned south on Evergreen, but immediately turned into the Value Village parking lot across the street. He wanted to fit the dough boy into his car, but he drove a hatchback Ford Escort (a white car he affectionately nicknamed Iceberg). He made a couple of attempts to stick the cut out into his trunk, but he could not fit it in AND close the back door. The only way to fit the cardboard advertisement into his car would be to lay down the back seat. Unfortunately that seat was occupied by Shelly.
Shane tossed the stand up back on top of my car and we drove off... again. Shane still took the lead, driving to the north end of the parking lot, passing Burger King on the other side of the highway. I followed close behind and when we reached Evergreen Way, Shane inexplicably turned south. Naïve as I was, I followed. Pike and I had been laughing at the madness of our pilfering, but within seconds, Pike noticed something unusual.
“Who’s that crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of road.” Pike asked.
Before I go any father, I must explain something about this stretch of Evergreen Way. It is one of the busiest north/south routes through Everett. Traffic is thick at all hours, even the twilight hours of our exit from Burger King. If you follow it south, it becomes Highway 99, which in downtown Seattle comprises the famous Alaskan Viaduct. Traveling north, and skipping a few blocks east to Broadway, you can follow Highway 99 all the way to the Canadian border. At this particular junction between Burger King and Value Village, Evergreen Way has a 45mph speed limit with seven lanes: three northbound, three southbound, and one turning lane in the middle. Sane people do not normally dance like Donkey Kong in the middle of Evergreen Way, especially at 10 pm.
Where was I... Oh yeah.
“Who’s that crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of road.” Pike asked.
I shrugged and continued driving. Within seconds the identity of the crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of the road became clear; it was the bald gorilla in yellow and black from Burger King. I had just reached speed limit when the crazy jumping gorilla stepped in front of my car. It takes a crazy person to stand in the middle of the road, but only a fool would step into traffic to play chicken with a large speeding machine of metal and glass. I slammed on my brakes to prevent hitting the security guard. Although I had no sympathy for the guy and wouldn’t mind injuring him, I did not want to damage my car.
As I skidded to a stop the guard started running toward me, charging my car like a bull charges a matador. Perplexed and not sure what to do, Pike let go of the Pillsbury dough boy. The security guard's once pale skin had turned beet red. He pounced onto the hood of my car, growled, and snatched the dough boy display. As soon as he rolled off to the side of my car, I stepped as hard on the accelerator as my car would allow. As we tore away, the guard slapped my back window hard enough I thought it would shatter. Jen screamed. She must have had the same thought I did because she was leaning forward, hands covering the back of her head.
I looked in my rearview mirror as we drove off. Two blocks later, the guard was still standing in the middle of the road. One fist in the air, as if threatening to hunt me down; his other arm around the Pillsbury dough boy like a prodigal lover returned. Six lanes of traffic passing on either side.
Side note: Shane drove buy Burger King later that night and the Pillsbury dough boy was not in the store, but instead, sticking out of the dumpster.
Second side note: The security guard left a dent in my hood. When people doubted the retelling of my story I would show them my car, and they believed.
Third side note: This is also the same night that Shane and I drove side by side down Evergreen to the Snohomish/King County line at 11 pm... at 25 mph in a 45, with a parade of irate honking drivers behind us. Poor Jen, curled up in as close of a fetal position as her seat belt allowed. She was afraid that some one would shoot us. We all returned home safely, though sore from laughter.
It was a strange sight, at 19, walking into the Evergreen Way Burger King in south Everett, to see a security guard. I grew up on Burger King (my parents had a strange aversion to McDonalds) and the security guard feature was new to me, as was the rest of the BK dough boy experience.
It was the last summer before I moved away from home, and much of my adventures were a last hurrah before Shane, T-Dog, and I started out on our own. There were six of us that night: Pike and his sister Shelly, Nick and his sister Jen, Shane, and myself. We had been hanging out at the Everett Mall for most of the afternoon and evening; as closing time approached we found ourselves bored, hungry, and cruising north on Evergreen. Shane and I were the drivers. Nick and Shelly rode with Shane while Pike and Jen were in my car. Shane pulled off first and I followed him into the Burger King Parking lot, beginning the most unlikely of adventures.
Once inside, the security guard was the most prominent figure behind the counter. Dressed in a Charlie Brown yellow shirt, tight enough to be painted on, tucked in to too tight black denim that would have been better fitting on a Chippendales dancer, this meathead was built like a genetic crossbreed of a buffalo and a honey bee... hopped up on steroids. He was brooding and bald; not the male pattern baldness that will someday consume my hair, but the redneck Neo-Nazi I shave my head with a strait edge razor kind of bald. The long lost Stryper fan looked out of place behind the counter. Adding to the oddity, he walked around insulting the kitchen staff, slapping “kick me I’m stupid” signs to the back of the nerdy kid working the cash register, while sucking down a king sized chocolate milk shake. He finished off that shake and refilled it with more of the frosty brown dairy product before we even had a chance to order. The addition of six new customers did not diminish the flow of insults and emotional abuse the security guard inflicted upon his coworkers, if anything he increased his efforts to humiliate the BK staff as if he was performing for an audience.
Part of me felt pity for the poor BK employees for having to endure such torture. The other part of me wanted to jump the counter and punch the guy, but I resisted. Somehow, I felt that punching the security guard would be equivalent to a rabbit trying to tackle an elephant.
I ordered a hamburger - ketchup only, but they ran out of ketchup so I ate it dry. Jen ordered a chocolate milkshake, but they ran out of chocolate (seems the security guard drank the last of it). Instead Jen ordered vanilla. Other things that Burger King ran out of that night: cheese, salt, onion rings, napkins, and ice. The place was falling apart: the abusive security guard, the employees near tears, and a stock supply that seemed like they had not received a delivery in months.
It was not a pleasant experience, but the six of us made the best of it. At the front of the store was a five foot tall cardboard cut out of the Pillsbury dough boy (and you were wondering what the dough boy had to do with this story). The giant dough boy was advertising the new miniature cinnamon rolls Burger King had added to their breakfast menu. We joked about how it would match the décor in Shane’s room. We left, everyone except Shane... something about having to use the restroom. Huddled by the cars, Nick and Shelly waited for Shane to unlock his doors so we could leave.
Moments later, we heard someone inside shout “HEY” and Shane burst through the doors, Pillsbury dough boy in hand.
“Nic, do you have a rope?” he asked me. “We need to attach this to your car.”
I did not have a rope, but I did have a sunroof. Shane threw the large piece of cardboard onto the roof of my Acura Legend, opened up his car, and started the engine. I opened up my sunroof and employed the only method available to secure the dough boy: Pike reached up and held on to it with both hands, making sure it would not blow off as we drove away. Again, I followed Shane. He turned south on Evergreen, but immediately turned into the Value Village parking lot across the street. He wanted to fit the dough boy into his car, but he drove a hatchback Ford Escort (a white car he affectionately nicknamed Iceberg). He made a couple of attempts to stick the cut out into his trunk, but he could not fit it in AND close the back door. The only way to fit the cardboard advertisement into his car would be to lay down the back seat. Unfortunately that seat was occupied by Shelly.
Shane tossed the stand up back on top of my car and we drove off... again. Shane still took the lead, driving to the north end of the parking lot, passing Burger King on the other side of the highway. I followed close behind and when we reached Evergreen Way, Shane inexplicably turned south. Naïve as I was, I followed. Pike and I had been laughing at the madness of our pilfering, but within seconds, Pike noticed something unusual.
“Who’s that crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of road.” Pike asked.
Before I go any father, I must explain something about this stretch of Evergreen Way. It is one of the busiest north/south routes through Everett. Traffic is thick at all hours, even the twilight hours of our exit from Burger King. If you follow it south, it becomes Highway 99, which in downtown Seattle comprises the famous Alaskan Viaduct. Traveling north, and skipping a few blocks east to Broadway, you can follow Highway 99 all the way to the Canadian border. At this particular junction between Burger King and Value Village, Evergreen Way has a 45mph speed limit with seven lanes: three northbound, three southbound, and one turning lane in the middle. Sane people do not normally dance like Donkey Kong in the middle of Evergreen Way, especially at 10 pm.
Where was I... Oh yeah.
“Who’s that crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of road.” Pike asked.
I shrugged and continued driving. Within seconds the identity of the crazy guy jumping up and down in the middle of the road became clear; it was the bald gorilla in yellow and black from Burger King. I had just reached speed limit when the crazy jumping gorilla stepped in front of my car. It takes a crazy person to stand in the middle of the road, but only a fool would step into traffic to play chicken with a large speeding machine of metal and glass. I slammed on my brakes to prevent hitting the security guard. Although I had no sympathy for the guy and wouldn’t mind injuring him, I did not want to damage my car.
As I skidded to a stop the guard started running toward me, charging my car like a bull charges a matador. Perplexed and not sure what to do, Pike let go of the Pillsbury dough boy. The security guard's once pale skin had turned beet red. He pounced onto the hood of my car, growled, and snatched the dough boy display. As soon as he rolled off to the side of my car, I stepped as hard on the accelerator as my car would allow. As we tore away, the guard slapped my back window hard enough I thought it would shatter. Jen screamed. She must have had the same thought I did because she was leaning forward, hands covering the back of her head.
I looked in my rearview mirror as we drove off. Two blocks later, the guard was still standing in the middle of the road. One fist in the air, as if threatening to hunt me down; his other arm around the Pillsbury dough boy like a prodigal lover returned. Six lanes of traffic passing on either side.
Side note: Shane drove buy Burger King later that night and the Pillsbury dough boy was not in the store, but instead, sticking out of the dumpster.
Second side note: The security guard left a dent in my hood. When people doubted the retelling of my story I would show them my car, and they believed.
Third side note: This is also the same night that Shane and I drove side by side down Evergreen to the Snohomish/King County line at 11 pm... at 25 mph in a 45, with a parade of irate honking drivers behind us. Poor Jen, curled up in as close of a fetal position as her seat belt allowed. She was afraid that some one would shoot us. We all returned home safely, though sore from laughter.
1.15.2007
Almost Hypothermia
My office (actually, it is two rows of four computers that I share with five of my peers) is cold. Chilly. Frigid. Icy. Air conditioned in January. Winter weather indoors, I might as well stand outside in my underwear it is so cold in there. My fingers are turning blue… Call me the abominable snowman.
When I was 19, I worked at Albertsons for a while, throwing freight and stocking shelves. About half of my shift was spent in the dairy cooler, stacking milk crates, and making sure the store had a full supply of all things that came from the udder of a cow. My “office” feels like that dairy cooler in the back of the Marysville Albertsons.
I love my job, but honestly, if I wanted to feel this cold at work, I would have picked a different profession.
When I was 19, I worked at Albertsons for a while, throwing freight and stocking shelves. About half of my shift was spent in the dairy cooler, stacking milk crates, and making sure the store had a full supply of all things that came from the udder of a cow. My “office” feels like that dairy cooler in the back of the Marysville Albertsons.
I love my job, but honestly, if I wanted to feel this cold at work, I would have picked a different profession.
1.12.2007
Real life conversation: I'm not a telemarketer; I just sell products by phone at inconvenient times
[ Bekah’s cell phone rings, interrupting our conversation.]
Bekah: Hello?
...
Bekah: (mock excitement) He is, can I ask who’s calling?
...
[ Bekah holds her phone out to me with an annoyed look on her face. Perplexed, I ask who it is. I have my own cell phone, so no one calls her looking for me. Apparently, some credit card company has called six times all ready *in one day* looking for me, this caller would be number seven. I do not have a credit card, so I know it is not for collections. Only one of the previous six callers would speak with my wife, and he insisted he would call back, despite Bekah’s request not to. I do not remember the name of the company, but they had the word “gold” in it. From here on, I shall refer to them as Golden Idiots. ]
Me: Hello?
Golden Idiot: Is this Nicholas?
Me: It is.
Golden Idiot: Hello, sir, my name is Fran with the Golden Idiots. We have pre approved you for a line of credit to help you rebuild your credit.
Me: I don’t care. You’ve called me seven times today. I personally believe that seven calls in one day is a bit excessive for a telemarketing company, and you can not…
Golden Idiot: (interrupting) Sir, We are not a telemarketing company.
Me: You have a product that you are offering, and you are calling me. That makes you a telemarketer. (thinking: you’re not a non-profit organization, civic or government agency, no are you conducting a survey or requesting campaign contributions. You are a telemarketer.)
Golden Idiot: (aggravation beginning to show) Sir, we are a financial institution, we do not…
Me: (my turn to interrupt) I’m sorry, but I used to work for a “financial institution” and we did telemarketing. Do not ever call me again.
Golden Idiot: Well, you have a nice eh…
[ I can see it clearly. She’s gripping her keyboard like it is the bottom rung of a fire escape, knuckles ghost white. Jaw clenched, teeth barred, cheeks flushed, hair frayed, temples pulsing, and forehead creased; her body trembles as her blood red eyes burn. She is staring down her mortal enemy, the computer, as if it is the embodiment of all things evil. She is repeating the mantra in her head, "I am not allowed to disconnect the call. I am not allowed to..." ]
Golden Idiot: Have a nice life! (click…)
[ I snap the phone shut and hand it back to Bekah ]
Me: She told me to have a nice life. I don’t think we’ll hear from them again.
Bekah: Hello?
...
Bekah: (mock excitement) He is, can I ask who’s calling?
...
[ Bekah holds her phone out to me with an annoyed look on her face. Perplexed, I ask who it is. I have my own cell phone, so no one calls her looking for me. Apparently, some credit card company has called six times all ready *in one day* looking for me, this caller would be number seven. I do not have a credit card, so I know it is not for collections. Only one of the previous six callers would speak with my wife, and he insisted he would call back, despite Bekah’s request not to. I do not remember the name of the company, but they had the word “gold” in it. From here on, I shall refer to them as Golden Idiots. ]
Me: Hello?
Golden Idiot: Is this Nicholas?
Me: It is.
Golden Idiot: Hello, sir, my name is Fran with the Golden Idiots. We have pre approved you for a line of credit to help you rebuild your credit.
Me: I don’t care. You’ve called me seven times today. I personally believe that seven calls in one day is a bit excessive for a telemarketing company, and you can not…
Golden Idiot: (interrupting) Sir, We are not a telemarketing company.
Me: You have a product that you are offering, and you are calling me. That makes you a telemarketer. (thinking: you’re not a non-profit organization, civic or government agency, no are you conducting a survey or requesting campaign contributions. You are a telemarketer.)
Golden Idiot: (aggravation beginning to show) Sir, we are a financial institution, we do not…
Me: (my turn to interrupt) I’m sorry, but I used to work for a “financial institution” and we did telemarketing. Do not ever call me again.
Golden Idiot: Well, you have a nice eh…
[ I can see it clearly. She’s gripping her keyboard like it is the bottom rung of a fire escape, knuckles ghost white. Jaw clenched, teeth barred, cheeks flushed, hair frayed, temples pulsing, and forehead creased; her body trembles as her blood red eyes burn. She is staring down her mortal enemy, the computer, as if it is the embodiment of all things evil. She is repeating the mantra in her head, "I am not allowed to disconnect the call. I am not allowed to..." ]
Golden Idiot: Have a nice life! (click…)
[ I snap the phone shut and hand it back to Bekah ]
Me: She told me to have a nice life. I don’t think we’ll hear from them again.
1.04.2007
Generation Gaps
"I must study politics and war that my sons have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry and music."
- John Adams, second president of the United States
This statement of civil pursuits in America is not only an interesting look into the inner psyche of our founding fathers, but also a reflection of the affairs of our current society.
My grandparent's generation is the greatest generation. They are the ones who fought in Korea, and World War II before that. Their passions and ethics stemmed from a sense of duty; it is what they felt was owed to their families and their nation. They waged wars, set laws, and focused on politics for one reason only: to make this nation a better place for their kids.
My parents generation worked with the sciences, science of the mind and the world around us. The delivered the concept of civil discontent and disobedience. They gave us the internet, environmentalism, satellite television, and innumerable revolutions in technology and society. They brought us into the information age.
My generation's realm of comfort is in the arts. Raised by MTV, we are desperate for stimulation. Our music is loud and obnoxious. Our poems bare our souls. Our appetite for instant gratification seems to dictate the policies and habits of the generations that paved our way. We are creative, yet misguided.
It is funny. The first generation acted out of duty, the next generation acted out of freedom, while the last generation has mistaken a privilege as a right.
I think it is about time we restart this pattern. It is time we start training the new generation to care about our country, to take a stand and fight. If we don't take that step, future generations may not have freedom to pursue science or the right to create art.
- John Adams, second president of the United States
This statement of civil pursuits in America is not only an interesting look into the inner psyche of our founding fathers, but also a reflection of the affairs of our current society.
My grandparent's generation is the greatest generation. They are the ones who fought in Korea, and World War II before that. Their passions and ethics stemmed from a sense of duty; it is what they felt was owed to their families and their nation. They waged wars, set laws, and focused on politics for one reason only: to make this nation a better place for their kids.
My parents generation worked with the sciences, science of the mind and the world around us. The delivered the concept of civil discontent and disobedience. They gave us the internet, environmentalism, satellite television, and innumerable revolutions in technology and society. They brought us into the information age.
My generation's realm of comfort is in the arts. Raised by MTV, we are desperate for stimulation. Our music is loud and obnoxious. Our poems bare our souls. Our appetite for instant gratification seems to dictate the policies and habits of the generations that paved our way. We are creative, yet misguided.
It is funny. The first generation acted out of duty, the next generation acted out of freedom, while the last generation has mistaken a privilege as a right.
I think it is about time we restart this pattern. It is time we start training the new generation to care about our country, to take a stand and fight. If we don't take that step, future generations may not have freedom to pursue science or the right to create art.
12.26.2006
The 12 Days After Christmas
The first day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Leftovers from Christmas dinner
The second day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The third day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The fourth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The fifth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The sixth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The seventh day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The eighth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The ninth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The tenth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Ten Christmas lights to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six rooms need cleaning
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The eleventh day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eleven frozen pipes are leaking
Ten Christmas lights to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours work for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trips to return presents
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The twelfth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Twelve more months till Christmas
Eleven frozen pipes are leaking
Ten decorations to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours work for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trips to exchange presents
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
Leftovers from Christmas dinner
The second day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The third day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The fourth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The fifth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The sixth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The seventh day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The eighth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The ninth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trash bags to take out
Five rooms to clean
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The tenth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Ten Christmas lights to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours back for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six rooms need cleaning
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The eleventh day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eleven frozen pipes are leaking
Ten Christmas lights to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours work for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trips to return presents
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
The twelfth day after Christmas, my true love gave to me
Twelve more months till Christmas
Eleven frozen pipes are leaking
Ten decorations to take down
Nine bills from E-Bay
Eight hours work for my employer
Seven shirts - don't fit right
Six trips to exchange presents
Five bags of trash
Four late Christmas cards
Three gift cards to redeem
Two unwrapped gifts
And leftovers from Christmas dinner
12.19.2006
The Crisco Kid strikes again!
Christian gave Bekah and me an early Christmas surprise this morning. The ensuing clean up delayed my leaving for work by an hour. For starters, he needed a bath.
One glance in the kitchen provided the first signs of trouble.
I just could not figure it out. What was the white sticky stuff?
Ah, Crisco. That explains it.
I guess it is time to baby proof the kitchen.
12.14.2006
Somebody is lying
My wife and I had several complaints about Adelphia. I was hoping that the Time-Warner takeover would be an improvement. Surprisingly, Time-Warner took Adelphia's impossibly bad service and made it worse. The television prices are outrageous, and the channel line-up is mediocre. But the true horrors lie in the customer service. In the first month after we had cable internet installed, there were five major interruptions of service. Extended periods of time with no internet access is torture to a blogger, but detrimental to a student at an on-line college.
My multiple calls into their customer service centers have not improved my opinion. Their pre-recorded messages are near award winning. *"If you are calling about service outage in your area, there is no reason for you to call, we are aware of the problem." and *"Due to the unusually high call volume, your call can not be completed at this time. Please try again later. (click)" The real live customer disservice agents are not much better. They put the resent into representative. *"I can't find you anywhere, you don't exist." *"There is absolutely nothing I can do." *"It's too bad that you have been without service since yesterday afternoon. I'll give you a credit for the inconvenience. (two minutes of dead air later) OK that credit will be two dollars. Have a nice day. (click)" And my personal favorite, *"I have to transfer you. Don't worry, your call will not be disconnected. (click) ....... (dead air) ...... (dial tone)"
This morning's editions of the Spokesman-Review and CDA Press both reported news of the dispute in between Time-Warner and local FOX affiliate, KAYU. A local blogger put it best... Time-Warner sucks. The dispute is much like a playground brawl. The little kid (KAYU) picks a fight with the school bully (Time-Warner) and then complains when he gets his butt kicked.
Barring Time-Warner's last minute realization "I'm an idiot," FOX programming will be removed from the cable line up in North Idaho at midnight tonight. This is not the first time Time-Warner has found themselves in this type of dispute with a FOX affiliate. A few FOX stations in New York recently battled with Time-Warner.
Even if Time-Warner fixes their rectum-cranium inversion and makes a deal with KAYU, it is too late for us. Bekah ordered DirecTV today. Hooray!
KAYU is asking for Time Warner Cable to pay for its signal (just like they charge Dish Network and DirecTV); a signal they give away for free over the air (as long as you don't mind fuzzy lines and static interference during all of your favorite shows). Time Warner Cable's position is that cable customers should not be penalized for KAYU's insistence on getting paid to stay on our cable system. (Instead cable customers should be punished with our astronomical prices and inept customer service.) Time Warner Cable made good faith counter offers (good faith means you do it our way or else...) to KAYU during these (non) negotiations; however, KAYU has rejected them all. (We haven't given them much)
We are working hard (doing nothing) to keep this channel on your lineup.
In order to ensure you continue to receive KAYU no matter what, Time Warner Cable is providing customers with a free A/B switch*. The equipment will allow you to continue to receive KAYU off-air with a flip of a switch (because everybody loves bunny ears).
My multiple calls into their customer service centers have not improved my opinion. Their pre-recorded messages are near award winning. *"If you are calling about service outage in your area, there is no reason for you to call, we are aware of the problem." and *"Due to the unusually high call volume, your call can not be completed at this time. Please try again later. (click)" The real live customer disservice agents are not much better. They put the resent into representative. *"I can't find you anywhere, you don't exist." *"There is absolutely nothing I can do." *"It's too bad that you have been without service since yesterday afternoon. I'll give you a credit for the inconvenience. (two minutes of dead air later) OK that credit will be two dollars. Have a nice day. (click)" And my personal favorite, *"I have to transfer you. Don't worry, your call will not be disconnected. (click) ....... (dead air) ...... (dial tone)"
_________________________
As a DirecTV employee in Boise, I had DTV service, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Bekah however was not a fan (that whole east coast broadcast time confused her). She's always won the cable versus satellite argument, but now Time-Warner has helped me sway her opinion.This morning's editions of the Spokesman-Review and CDA Press both reported news of the dispute in between Time-Warner and local FOX affiliate, KAYU. A local blogger put it best... Time-Warner sucks. The dispute is much like a playground brawl. The little kid (KAYU) picks a fight with the school bully (Time-Warner) and then complains when he gets his butt kicked.
Barring Time-Warner's last minute realization "I'm an idiot," FOX programming will be removed from the cable line up in North Idaho at midnight tonight. This is not the first time Time-Warner has found themselves in this type of dispute with a FOX affiliate. A few FOX stations in New York recently battled with Time-Warner.
Even if Time-Warner fixes their rectum-cranium inversion and makes a deal with KAYU, it is too late for us. Bekah ordered DirecTV today. Hooray!
_________________________
Here is an interesting snippet from Time-Warner's website, funny how deceptive those cable companies can be.
KAYU SAYS ITS ALL ABOUT THE MONEY
(He started it)
NO; IT'S ALL ABOUT WHAT'S RIGHT FOR TIME WARNER CABLE CUSTOMERS
NO; IT'S ALL ABOUT WHAT'S RIGHT FOR TIME WARNER CABLE CUSTOMERS
(What would be right is for Time-Warner to pull their head out of the sand)
Notice to Our (not so) Valued Customers
It is possible that local Fox affiliate Kayu will no longer give Time Warner Cable permission to carry its channel after December 14, 2006.
It is possible that local Fox affiliate Kayu will no longer give Time Warner Cable permission to carry its channel after December 14, 2006.
KAYU is asking for Time Warner Cable to pay for its signal (just like they charge Dish Network and DirecTV); a signal they give away for free over the air (as long as you don't mind fuzzy lines and static interference during all of your favorite shows). Time Warner Cable's position is that cable customers should not be penalized for KAYU's insistence on getting paid to stay on our cable system. (Instead cable customers should be punished with our astronomical prices and inept customer service.) Time Warner Cable made good faith counter offers (good faith means you do it our way or else...) to KAYU during these (non) negotiations; however, KAYU has rejected them all. (We haven't given them much)
We are working hard (doing nothing) to keep this channel on your lineup.
In order to ensure you continue to receive KAYU no matter what, Time Warner Cable is providing customers with a free A/B switch*. The equipment will allow you to continue to receive KAYU off-air with a flip of a switch (because everybody loves bunny ears).
Technicians are standing by
call 888-###-#### (You may have to wait a while)
For updates on this situation, go to www.twc-northwest.com.
It's not too late! (JK) Time Warner Cable encourages you to call KAYU directly at (509) 448-2828 (they can probably explain this mess better than we can) or email KAYU at www.fox28spokane.com under the contact section to tell them they should negotiate (provided we participate) in good faith (remember, do it our way or else) with Time Warner Cable in order to keep the channel on your lineup.
It's not too late! (JK) Time Warner Cable encourages you to call KAYU directly at (509) 448-2828 (they can probably explain this mess better than we can) or email KAYU at www.fox28spokane.com under the contact section to tell them they should negotiate (provided we participate) in good faith (remember, do it our way or else) with Time Warner Cable in order to keep the channel on your lineup.
12.07.2006
My grown up Christmas List: Strings attatched part 4
Prices are as marked at Guitar Center.
Epiphone MM-30E Mandolin
$169.99
_______________________
Dean Playmate EABC Cutaway acoustic bass guitar$199.99
_______________________
Dean BW6 Backwoods 6-string banjo$249.99
_______________________
Martin S-O ukulele$299.99
_______________________
My grown up Christmas List: Strings attatched part 3
Prices are as marked at Guitar Center.
Gretch Electromatic lap steel guitar
$329.99
$329.99
_______________________
Dean Boca 12-string guitar
$349.99
$349.99
_______________________
Ibanez AX7221 7-string guitar$349.99
_______________________
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