Black Sox Nation

The Breakfast of Champions: Quisp

2008-06-18T22:36:00.005-04:00

Quisp and Quunchy save the day. Illustrated in the glorious style of master cartoonist John Kricfalusi. All hail John K.
Last night I took Jamie to the grocery store for a few items, and to return a movie. As is usually the case, I decided to buy a couple of extra items that weren't on my officially sanctioned, spouse-approved grocery list.

The boys needed applesauce and crackers for their lunches. I found some Cheez-It's in ths shape of Spongebob Squarepants. Awesome find.

We made our way to the cereal aisle. Neither of the boys, or Jena for that matter, are big cereal eaters. Charlie loves yogurt, and Jamie eats a banana every morning. But I like a nice bowl of cereal in the morning, if there is any. We had a box of Kix at home, but it hasn't really been doing anything for me lately.

I saw a box of Apple Jacks on sale for $2. That seemed like a pretty good deal, and it's one of my favorites, so the box made it's way into our cart.

Jamie and I went down a couple more aisles, but then we wound up turning around. This was still a fairly new supermarket for us, and bread (which was on my list) was on the other side of the store. We were passing the cereal aisle again, mid-store, and I had turned my head in the direction we came and saw a display in the middle of the aisle that I hadn't noticed before because we had approached it from the rear.

That's when I saw the blue boxes with the propellered alien on them.

Quisp.

For those of you who are not familiar with the cereal, here is what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Quisp and Quake were two sugar-sweetened breakfast cereals originally released in 1965 in the U.S. by The Quaker Oats Company and generally advertised together (during the same commercial) as products competing against each other. The very successful ads were cartoons created by Jay Ward of Rocky and Bullwinkle fame, and used some of the same voices, including Daws Butler as the voice of Quisp (an alien) and William Conrad as the voice of Quake (a miner).

In 1970, a contest was held by Quaker Oats to see whose cereal was the more popular of the two. In 1972, Quisp won, and Quake retreated underground. Quake, the cartoon character, reappeared in a new cereal called Quangaroos where he obtained an orange kangaroo as well as putting his mining helmet down in favor of an Aussie motif.

In the late-1970s, Quisp was removed from grocery stores due to low sales. It re-emerged in the mid-1980s, and finally was re-introduced in the 1990s as the "first Internet cereal" and is still in limited distribution.

Starting in early March 2008, many Dollar General stores (especially in, but not limited to, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and much of the Northeast U.S.) will begin selling Quisp (as well as other classics such as King Vitamin, Crunchy Corn Bran, and Honey Graham Oh's).

Needless to say, that box of Apple Jacks went back on the shelf and Jay Ward's propellered alien came home with us - much to Jena's chagrin. "You had better not let Charlie see that box," she warned. (Neither of us want to see him get hooked on sugary cereals anytime soon).

No worries. The box is already empty and in the trash.

Top Of The World

2008-06-18T15:55:00.004-04:00

I wanna rock.

I love music. But it's a love that has evolved. In high school, when I wasn't listening to jazz and blues and preparing to be a professional saxophone player (true story!), I filled my ear with a lot of Top 40 hits. I loved just about every song from the 80's. I liked Duran Duran when it wasn't cool (or advised) to do so. My favorites were Rush, Van Halen, Depeche Mode, Def Leppard, ABC, The Human League, and the Cars.

Then, when I was a junior in high school, an older co-worker at Doc's Drugs got me hooked on classic rock. I started listening to groups like Clearance Clearwater, the Rolling Stones (their old stuff), and the Who. And the Guess Who.

My college years were a succession of phases. Freshman year was Pink Floyd, Men At Work, and old "pre-Invisible Touch" Genesis (first semester) and XTC (second semester). Sophomore year was Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, and some more XTC. Junior year was AC/DC and another helping of XTC. Senior year was the best: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers ... and some more XTC. (I did nothing to help the popularity of XTC with the five people who were unlucky enough to be my roommates in college).

One year out of college, I embraced Steely Dan and (The) Urge Overkill. While in Manassas, I drew the first "Brenda Monarch" cartoons while listening to a mix of Adam Ant, Alice In Chains, The Meat Puppets, The Lemonheads, The Grays, and The Judybats. When I was on the road for Baseview, I went through a rotation of listening to Stone Temple Pilots, Smashing Pumpkins, The Rentals, Fountains of Wayne, Neil Diamond, Metallica, Collective Soul, Bush, and 311 ... but especially They Might Be Giants. When Charlie was born, I was listening to a lot of K.M.F.D.M. (to my wife's horror). These days, I've been playing a combination of everything mentioned above. I still, to this day, listen to a lot of They Might Be Giants and XTC - I guess they're my favorites. (It seems fitting then that TMBG wrote a song called "XTC vs. Adam Ant." Weird, I know).

So what's playing at my house today?

The Carpenters. They rock.

Jena got me a Carpenters CD for Father's Day. I've always loved Karen Carpenter's voice. It's really sad that she's no longer with us (she died in 1983 of heart failure; she was a recovering anorexic). I'm sure that if she were still alive, both her and her brother, Richard, would still be making beautiful music today. I'm a fan of the Carpenters - not afraid to say it.

Now don't you wish you were my roommate?

Funny Commercial in the UK

2008-04-15T08:43:00.003-04:00

Hey everyone. We just got back from a short trip to London, sans children (thanks Grandma and Grandpa!). Pretty tired today, and much to do, but wanted to blog.

Most of the pictures we took are still on Jena's work laptop. Unfortunately, she had to rush off to work this morning and we were unable to copy the pictures over for your enjoyment today. But stay tuned - we'll get them up here soon.

As an aside, it really is amazing how much technology has changed in just a short number of years, especially in the arena of photography.

Example: This was my second trip to London, the first being in 1999. I brought a 35mm camera with me on that first trip, and I probably had one or two rolls of 36-exposure film. Whenever I encountered something picture-worthy, I would snap off a shot or two. I never took three pictures of anything. Things that were only mildly interesting didn't get photographed at all. When I got home, I turned my film in for developing, waited anxiously, and was disappointed with some of the results.

Fast forward nine years. London changes oh-so slightly (London Eye, Millennium Bridge, Tate Modern), but this time I am armed with a digital camera, a 2GB memory card, and a tripod. Picture-worthiness is now no longer a factor; even tepidly interesting subjects are photographed. The main attractions are shot in the double digits. The tripod makes duplicate nighttime shots a reality. And above all else, the viewscreen on the back of the camera adds the luxury of instant gratification. Oh, and crappy shots can be deleted and taken again.

In the meantime, here's a treat for all of you loyal readers of Black Sox Nation: a funny commercial that I saw a couple of times on British television. It's a commercial for the new Citroën C5. Hab Spaß!

Pine Barons

2008-04-05T22:43:00.057-04:00

Jamie and Charlie at the base of the Carranza Memorial
(Click on any image to see a larger version)

Today the boys and I ventured into the Pine Barrens for a second time.

We left suburban Philadelphia and headed towards the Pine Barrens by taking State Route 70 east. At the Red Lion Circle, we took U.S. Route 206 south, stopping at a gas station for snacks and drinks just south of the circle. A short distance down the road was the fork for Carranza Road, which would take us straight to our first destination.

The Carranza Memorial is a 12-foot-tall stone monument in the Wharton State Forest. It marks the site where Captain Emilio Carranza Rodriguez, a famous Mexican aviator and national hero, was killed when his plane crashed on July 12, 1928.

Text from the sign in front of the monument:

"This monument commemorates the legacy and tragic accident of Captain Emilio Carranza Rodriguez, a Mexican aviator. Born in Ramos Arízpe, Coahuila, Mexico, Carranza was returning from a goodwill mission on a nonstop flight from New York to Mexico City when he crashed here during a thunderstorm. His goodwill mission marked the longest flight flown by a Mexican Aviator up until that time. Though his accomplishments earned him the nickname the 'Lindbergh of Mexico,' he was most often regarded among Americans and Mexicans alike as a messenger of peace, goodwill and friendship between the two nations.

"The children of Mexico saved their pennies to quarry stone from Coahuila, Mexico for the construction of the monument in 1931. Each block represents a state of the Republic of Mexico.

"The American Legion Post 11 erected the monument with a pledge to keep his ideals alive. Each year they honor him with a ceremony on the second Saturday in July.

"The Aztec eagle is a symbol of Mexican identity, pride, leadership and dignity. The descending eagle and set of footprints mark Carranza's tragic descent and final 'walk' on earth. The arrow on the reverse side symbolizes flight into the air - perpetual endurance of his dream."

Charlie put three pennies on the monument. (Well, technically he put eight pennies on the monument - there were five there already, and he was in the process of pocketing them when I gave him three new ones to put up there).

About a quarter of a mile down the road from the monument, the abandoned Central Railroad of New Jersey meets the edges of Carranza Road, which from this point on is no longer paved. There are no rails across the road, they were probably ripped out long ago. Judging by the number of trees growing between the railroad ties, it doesn't look like any trains have been this way in many years, either.

Carranza Road continues in a southeasterly direction, going deeper into the Wharton State Forest. At some point the name of the road supposedly changes to East Sandy Ridge Road. One of the challenges of navigating through the sandy one-lane roads in the Pine Barrens is that few of them are marked. I guess that's one way of keeping the trip exciting: knowing that at any moment you could be hopelessly lost.

A few more miles into the state forest, the road (still unpaved) passes through an area called Sandy Ridge, although there is hardly any rise in elevation at all. We leave Tabernacle Township and enter Washington Township, but of course there is no sign alerting us to this. Soon there is a break in the trees, and the road crosses a body of water that I believe is called the Shane Branch. This is a more open area, and from the bridge you can see several low-lying cranberry bogs. FYI, New Jersey is third in the nation in the production of cranberries. There are cranberry bogs are all over South Jersey, especially in the Pine Barrens.

And it was precisely the business of growing cranberries, and a pioneering spirit, that brought people to the small hamlet of Friendship, located within plain view from the Shane Branch bridge, and at the intersection with Friendship Speedwell Road. Friendship is one of several ghost towns dotted across the Pine Barrens. There's not much to look at above ground. I counted three former structures, their crude, stone basement walls still intact. Right at that moment, three Jeeps came out of the woods on Friendship Speedwell Road; they were a 4x4 club, and they stopped to look at the ghost town's buildings too. I didn't see any children tagging along for the ride, but I did see some wives. I must admit that it was a little comforting to know that other people were in the area.

While the railroad, the cranberry bogs and the ghost town were all very interesting, none of them were our second objective for the afternoon. That destination was the curiously-named Jemima Mount, a pair of hills located deep in the forest. (Jemima Mount eluded me on my last trip to the Pine Barrens on October 28. We were probably within two miles of the twin peaks when we drove over the Quaker Bridge, but we didn't know which unmarked road would bring us there. We eventually turned back to Atsion, another ghost town in the area).

Unfortunately, the second attempt to reach Jemima Mount also failed. We headed south along East Sandy Ridge Road. We crossed another body of water, more than likely Tulpehocken Creek. I took a right turn that I assumed was Hawkins Road, but it could have been Washington Speedwell Road. About a mile down, I made another right turn, assuming that I was now on Washington Road. Instead, it looks like I had turned onto Tuckerton Road, and drove right by Jemima Mount.

We did manage to get out of the state forest, and wound up back on Carranza Road, on a paved section about a mile before the monument. We started heading back towards home, but took a slight detour and returned to the fire watch tower on Apple Pie Hill for a second time. From the top of the tower, I snapped a few shots of the forest canopy below, and also tried to get some pictures of the skylines of both Philadelphia and Atlantic City using our new camera. Apple Pie Hill is interesting in that it is almost equidistant from both A.C. and Philly; both cities are about 30 miles away. Unfortunately, the glare from the sun kept me from getting a good Philly skyline shot.

The boys were amazingly well behaved throughout the day, and it looked like they enjoyed watching Daddy kick the Jeep into 4WD and get it all muddy. Their reward? Dinner at Chick-fil-A, and a good half hour running around on the indoor playground. Of course, I was a good boy too. My reward? Spending the day with my boys ...

... and seeing things like this:

Absolutely Not For The Squeamish

2008-03-15T20:41:00.006-04:00

I'm warning you now - turn away if you get nauseated easily, if you're not comfortable with watching surgical procedures, or you have this thing about people poking around your eyeballs (I fit neatly into that last category).

The rest of you can "enjoy" this little video snippet of a patient getting a needle stuck into their eyeball. This is the same procedure that poor Jena has had to have done a few times now, including this past Friday.

Looks kind of like A Clockwork Orange meets Silence of the Lambs.

What's going on here? Well, the patient in this vid, and Jena, are both suffering from a disease called Degenerative Myopia. The disease stretches a person's retina, and can wear it thin in some places. A thin spot on the retina is called a choroidal neovascularization (CNV). The scary thing about CNV is that it can cause partial or total loss of vision. Even more alarming is that there is no cure; some people have gone blind from the disease.

Although there is no cure, there are two procedures that can be done to help prevent CNV from advancing. The first is to inject a drug called Avastin directly into the eyeball (just like in the above movie). The second is to have laser surgery called photodynamic therapy; the CNV gets zapped by a laser beam for 83 seconds. Jena has had the former done on her eye at least three times, the latter only once so far, but she'll be going back again for another session soon.

It's so amazing to me how brave Jena has been through all of this. There is no way I would ever do this. Watching this clip confirms it. Seriously, if the doctors came to me and told me that I'd have to have this procedure done or risk going blind, I would have said "no thanks" and started learning Braille. But Jena has risen to the challenge and gone in for these injections a few times now, and has been very brave.

Braver than me, that's for certain.

Hell Hath No Fury

2008-03-15T00:16:00.031-04:00

Let's pretend that you are three years old.

You entered this world in 2004 (or 2005, if you just turned). This was your first leap year. This is also your first recession. A gallon of gasoline has never been under $2.00. Saccharin has always been perfectly safe to use. Michael Jackson has always been a freak and never had a #1 hit. Same with Britney Spears. To you, it would seem that the Boston Red Sox are near-perennial World Series champions. There has always been OnDemand, satellite radio, GPS systems in cars, and phones have always taken pictures and movies. George W. Bush is the only President you've ever had. We've been at war in Iraq and Afghanistan for your whole lifetime.

You can talk just fine, but you don't pronounce the letters R, V or Z; you insert a W in there instead. But you've made a lot of progress on your Gs and Js, and it's becoming a little easier to understand you.

You have a decent-sized vocabulary, but you're no encyclopedia. You don't even know what an encyclopedia is. You don't understand that words can have two or more meanings, or that two or more different words can sound alike, so you look confused when someone says "I'm getting hoarse," "Zip your fly," or asks "Well, which way to the bar?"

Speaking of vocabulary, you know there's a few really, really naughty words out there, but you've rarely used them because you know you'll be in big trouble. Maybe you heard Mommy say them, or ... maybe you heard them from Mommy. I'm sure she's pretty careful with the big no-no's. Like the S word. Or the D word. Or the G-D word. Or the N word (never heard her say that, tho). Or the mother of all bad words: the F word.

OK, back to our exercise. Now let's also pretend that you have a little brother. Let's say he's one. And, just for kicks, let's suppose that you sometimes can have a short temper and go off for no reason. Remember, you're three years old - that's par.

Finally, let's throw in the scenario that your little brother, who just started walking less than two months ago, is starting to learn that he can communicate by making sounds, which you misinterpret as a sign that you're being jawed at.

You are angry. You are beside yourself with rage. You feel your three-year-old body begin to shake and your legs are getting all wobbly. You feel your blood starting to boil, and it seems like two big clouds of steam are going to burst your eardrums at any moment. Your little brother is on your last nerve.

How dare he "talk" to me that way! I've gotta say something back to him! What do I say? What's the worst words I could say?

So you reach into your three-year-old mind and pull out the most potent, venemous words you have. You hope these words burn everyone's ears when they hear them. You hope that grown men will weep when they hear them. You want the skies to open up and a huge thunderbolt to smash into the ground, annihilating every living thing around the impact zone for miles - and nothing would grow there for centuries. These are the naughtiest, most spiteful, most disrespectful words you know. Here they come!

"You're going to bed, poopy!!"

It worked! I was crying! =)

The girl from Milledgeville, Georgia

2008-03-14T00:04:00.014-04:00

Jena photographed on December 9, 1999 - Milledgeville, Ga.

"Daddy, how did you and Mommy meet?"

No, Charlie didn't ask me that. Not yet anyway. But I'm sure someday both he and his brother will come around asking about it. Maybe they'll be together when they ask it. Maybe they'll ask individually. Maybe some sort of school project will precipitate the discussion. Maybe it will come out of the blue, like when we're in line at the grocery store and Charlie reads the April 12, 2011 cover of Us Weekly: "SPEARS DENIES SHE'S PREGNANT WITH 5TH BABY."

"How did you and Mommy meet?"

Ah, I could have fun with that one. "We met at Bi-Lo." But to be fair, we are talking about their mother here. And my wife. So I'd probably not spin some false tale about the luckiest moment of my life. Instead, I would ask Sherman to set the WABAC machine to September of 1999, and hold on for dear life.

Back then, I was working for a software company in Ann Arbor, Mich. I was an installer/trainer, so I spent about half of my time on the road. I was looking forward to some travelling for R&R: a vacation in London. I was going to be meeting my parents there, but I was going to have a lot of time to myself to go exploring. It was going to be my first trip to Europe (I missed an opportunity to go six years earlier), and I was totally jonesed about going.

So you can imagine that I was a little apprehensive about travelling anywhere just before the London trip. But that's what happened - my boss came up to me and said that I was needed for three days of training in a small Georgia town called Milledgeville. As was standard procedure back then, when any of us were told we were going somewhere and it didn't sound familiar, we grabbed the nearest road atlas to look it up. *Groan*. Milledgeville was almost right in the center of the state, perhaps at least two hours drive time away from Atlanta.

What was challenging about this short-notice site was that the three days of training were, if I remember correctly, in the middle of the week - Tuesday through Thursday. I was supposed to fly out of Detroit for London the following Sunday morning. The software I was going down to install and train was a third party product, and we sometimes ran into problems because our customers didn't always know how to implement it beforehand. Also, I was coming in right on the heels of an editorial system install that was performed by one of the newer trainers.

If anything were to go wrong, or if the site extended the training for some reason (both very possible scenarios), I would be screwed. Plus, there was always the possibility of me not being able to get out of the Hartsfield Atlanta airport in time. Everything had to come together in a small window of time, or else my London trip wasn't going to happen.

The situation got a little easier when I was somehow able to change my plane ticket to fly non-stop to London from Atlanta, not Detroit. I would still be leaving on Sunday, but in the afternoon. The only downside was that I was going to have to bring all of my clothes (and my power converter) for the London trip to Milledgeville.

I flew into Atlanta on Monday night, rented a car at the airport, and made the two-hour plus drive (told ya) to Milledgeville. It was very late when I finally pulled up to the Holiday Inn on the outskirts of town. I was tired, and wasn't going to be getting a lot of sleep that night because I needed to be at the Union-Recorder at 9:00 am the next morning. I went to bed to get whatever sleep I could.

The next day, I met Jena.

The Union-Recorder of Milledgeville, Ga. wasn't too far away - it was in a fairly new building with columns in a more industrial part of town. For some reason that first day the people I was supposed to meet weren't in the office yet. (Nice, I could have had more sleep). Since I had some time, I thought I would walk around the place, and maybe swing by the newsroom to see how the new editorial system was working for them.

The woman who would become my soulmate - as well as my friend, lover, girlfriend, fianceé, wife, and mother of my kids, and who would one day tell me to leave her nine months pregnant on a stranger's doorstep in the middle of the night (I didn't), and would one day cook something called edamame for me - had a corner desk in the newsroom. She was at her computer. I introduced myself and asked her how the editorial system was working. From her response, it sounded like the system was OK and that she had a pretty firm grasp on how it all worked. She had a couple questions, nothing major. It sounded like the training was a little amateurish, but served its purpose. We bantered for a little while, and I remember telling her that if she needed anything to let me know; I was going to be there for a few days.

That's how it all started. And that's pretty much how it went over the next three days, although I must be honest here and say that as time went on the bantering became more flirtatious. I casually asked some of the people I was working with what they knew about her, secretly angling to see if maybe she had a boyfriend. I found myself thinking about her more and more. I didn't have too many people to train, and there was actually another trainer from my company on-site with me at the same time - so I used this as an excuse to stay at the office late. Newsrooms being what they are, the folks who work in them often put in long, late hours. I knew that the longer I stayed at the office, the better chance I had of seeing Jena again for a minute or two and have another flit with her. It was crazy, I know, because I was only going to be in town for a few days and then, more than likely, never see her again. But I was intrigued, nay, attracted to this woman.

Who was she? Did I like her? Did she like me? Was I going to have enough time to find out?

Ultimately, the decision to change my ticket to London before I left for Georgia helped me tremendously. I got to stay in Milledgeville for a couple more days. That Friday night, a group of people from the U-R invited the other trainer and I out for the evening. Lucky for me, Jena was in the group too. We all went to watch a bit of a high school football game in a neighboring town, and then hit some bars back in Milledgeville. I rode in the car going back with her. Milledgeville, it turned out, was a pretty quaint town with some picturesque architecture and lovely antebellum homes. I didn't know this at the time, but Milledgeville was the capital of Georgia during the Civil War. Up until then I had assumed it was Atlanta, since Sherman (uh, not the same Sherman from the fourth graph) burned it to the ground. General William Tecumseh Sherman (that help?) marched on Milledgeville, but spared it - hence the beautiful houses in town.

Jena and her roommate threw a small party at their apartment on Saturday night, and I was able to go to that too. The next day, the Sunday I was supposed to drive back to Atlanta and fly to London, I had an early lunch with her at an Italian restaurant called Nicklina's. She asked me to call her when I came back through Atlanta, hinting that she would come see me before I set off on a connecting flight back to Detroit. After our lunch, I said goodbye to Jena, drove to Atlanta, and flew to London. My plane flew over Lake Sinclair, so it was easy to pick out Milledgeville. I was sad because I didn't want to leave - I wanted to spend some more time with Jena and wasn't sure if I would ever see her again.

But, as it turned out, I would be seeing a lot more of Jena. I didn't call her when I returned to Atlanta (and I still hear about that to this day), but we did start a long-distance relationship that was maintained with phone calls and email. I invited her up to Michigan for our company's Christmas party, and we took a quick side trip to Chicago while she was in the Midwest. About a week later, Jena flew to Richmond and met me there for the Millennium. Things just kept getting better and better.

"And that's how I met your mother. Now, pass Daddy the edamame."

A Day of Mixed Feelings

2008-03-03T08:09:00.010-05:00

Today is a strange day. It's a happy day and a sad day for me.

What's to be happy about? Today is the first day in more than eight months that I can be counted among the people who have a job. Yes, you read that right. I have a job, and my first day is today. My new employer is a software company that created a program for newspapers. Big surprise there. (Hey, I tried to get out of the biz, but for better or worse it just didn't happen).

My new gig is, however, much different from previous ones. For starters, it's a part-time job under contract - for now. Let it be known that I am absolutely committed to doing whatever it takes to make it transition to full-time. Another thing that's way different: I get to work from home when I'm not on the road. Yes, you read that right too - I'll be working from home and will be back on the road. Hopefully someday soon I'll be less apprehensive about both.

What's to be sad about? Today is also the first day that both Charlie and Jamie return to daycare full-time. To recap, we started sending both boys to a daycare in South Jersey full-time on June 18, but I lost my last job 10 days later. They kept going to school, but to save money we decided to send them both three days a week (M, W, Th) beginning on August 6. My next job proved elusive, so on October 1 we pulled Jamie out of daycare completely.

So Jamie has been home with me every day for more than five months, until today. My little one's been gone for less than an hour and I already miss him terribly.

Now granted, staying home and babysitting wasn't the most joyous of joys every day. Some days, particularly Tuesdays when I had both boys and Jena tended to work late, were a grind. But we also had a lot of fun. We went to the Philadelphia Zoo several times, and spent some hours in the Snake House (Charlie's favorite) and the Monkey House (Jamie's favorite). We've had lunch at Chick-Fil-A so they could play on the indoor playground. We've checked out some of the local parks in Cherry Hill, Cinnaminson and Palmyra, and went to Franklin Square Park in Philly many times. We've also gone out on some bike rides. And we've made numerous trips out to the stores together.

I'm sure we'll keep doing those things, just not today.

Ah, some more good news. I just heard from my better half that Jamie was "thrilled" when he was dropped off at daycare and took off for the toys. He's got other kids his age to play with. He'll probably love not being pushed around all day by his older brother (but if he wants a refresher he could just walk down the hall to Charlie's room for a little bullying). Speaking of which, I'm sure Charlie will love being with his school friends every day of the week now. It sounds like they're both happier there.

But they are sorely missed here.

Get Some Strange! (Adult)

2008-02-20T18:05:00.026-05:00

Ah yes, it's time to have another adult-oriented blog posting. And one in borderline poor taste. Hey, we have a reputation to earn here at Black Sox Nation. No one's stiffer in the sack!

Here's a funny little ditty from the folks at MadTV. Judging by the poll in the video which has Hillary Clinton comfortably in front of her Democratic rivals, I'd guess this is from sometime late last year.

As an aside, I don't remember Hillary having such nice legs. Did I miss that? Maybe there was a casting problem. Also, would Barack Obama seriously wear a wifebeater?

The race isn't over yet, but considering the trouncing she's been getting since Super Tuesday, it looks like we're on the cusp of having a Democratic nominee for President of the United States of America.

Not sure who Obama's choice for VP would be. I seriously doubt it would be Hillary ... would she even want it? Originally, I thought Michigan governor Jennifer Granholm would be a good choice for veep, but as my wife correctly pointed out, she can't be on the ticket because she's a Canadian. Dang. Well, maybe she could be Attorney General, something she was in Michigan before being elected guv.

Niece or Nephew?

2008-02-11T16:49:00.002-05:00

My brother, Mark, and his wife, Sara, are expecting their first baby sometime in late May or early June. The whole family is buzzing with excitement, and we are particularly jonesed about welcoming either a niece or nephew into the clan.

But, which will it be? Boy or girl? We may find out on Thursday when they go in for an ultrasound.

There is, of course, a 50-50 chance of either possibility happening. Those of you who were awake in middle school biology class know that the male actually determines the sex by either passing the X (for a girl) or Y (for a boy) chromosome. (Now seriously, if you didn't know that, you have problems). That's why I went around holding up three fingers in the shape of a "Y" to my forehead shouting "XY!" after we found out that our two babies were both going to be boys. Yeah, there was a reason.

Cartoonists do even wackier things on top of that, like drawing cartoons trumpeting baby's gender "reveal." I've made three cartoons for this purpose, using Brenda Monarch and Dave Kodiak (my two comic strip characters) to help spread the news.

The first cartoon, pictured above, is from 2004, right after we found out that Charlie was going to be a boy. Brenda, and I suspect to some degree Jena and definitely my mother and my mother-in-law, were all hoping for a girl. But we had been planning to have two children, so there was still a possibility of having a girl down the road. The original plan was to do this four years later, in 2008, hence Brenda's toast to that year.

But, as it turned out, we decided to have "K2" (Kid Two) a couple years early. When we went in for the ultrasound, I had this drawing already completed; I was pretty convinced that K2 was going to be a girl. Nope. Jena was disappointed at first, but she very quickly decided that having two boys was going to be a lot of fun and "owned" it. I can tell that my mother and mother-in-law were, deep down inside, a little disappointed too but they have also embraced the idea. They never did the "Y" to the forehead, but I didn't really expect them to. As an aside, my mother-in-law is now going to be the grandmother to EIGHT boys. What are the odds of that happening? One in 64.

You probably can't make this out too well, but scribbled on the wall inside the penalty box are the words "Schmitt was here `06," a reference to Jason and Sue Schmitt, who had found out previously that their K2 was going to be a girl, eventually named Danica. K1 was a boy, Becken.

After finding out K2 was going to be a boy, I went home and drew this cartoon. Jena actually held her tongue and didn't tell anyone about the ultrasound results until I had this finished that night. I know that was a really hard thing to do, so kudos to my wife.

We named K2 James Wyatt, and he was born on September 25, 2006.

Charlie was, and still is, a blondie with red highlights, so his hair isn't as blond as Dave's. Charlie, a few months under two at the time, didn't say too many words, but said "vacuum" a lot, hence the quote here. Also, this is actually the second version of this cartoon. In the first, Brenda was further to the right of the slot machine, was wearing a pout, and had a tear running down her face. Jena didn't like that design too well, so I quickly amended it to what you see here. Ah, the wonders of Photoshop.

So will Mark and Sara have a girl or a boy? My guess is that they will have a girl, and they'll name her Autumn Mackenzie. (If it's a boy they have said they'll name him Owen William). Mathematical odds seem to point to there being a girl.

And superstition. This is, after all, 2008, the year that the cartoon at the top told us to wait for.

Why Kwame isn't going anywhere

2008-01-31T14:16:00.002-05:00

So what happens now with Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick?

He was back at work today, after a week of self-imposed seclusion. The media were barred from getting anywhere near him as he walked to his office (probably a preview of things to come). And looking at the context of what Kwame said last night in his private address to the people of the city, it will be quite some time before the entire sordid texting affair (snicker) is played out.

Here is what I think will happen:

(1) The mayor will absolutely not resign. He made that clear in his speech last night when he made that Brokeback Mountainesque claim that he couldn't quit the city. He will try to hang on to the bitter end, if it comes at all. Why? He and his inner circle are convinced, perhaps correctly, that he can weather the storm surrounding the texting scandal. If yesterday's pro-mayor demonstration in front of the Spirit of Detroit is any indication of where things stand with the city's electorate, and barring any gaffes between now and the next election for mayor, Kwame is safe.

(2) Kwame is safe because, as he and his supporters will remind everyone, he has done a lot for the city. Hundreds of abandoned buildings have been torn down. Dozens of new buildings have been built in the downtown area. Whole neighborhoods have been cleaned up. Some of his plans have run afoul of the unions in the city (i.e. outsourcing some city services, converting public schools to charter schools, strong-arming city workers into accepting pay and benefit concessions), which would explain why they were the primary organizers of yesterday's anti-mayor rally, which was held at the same time and place as the aforementioned pro-mayor rally. And yes, there were fisticuffs.

(3) Since there is still the pending legal matter of whether the mayor and his former chief of staff committed perjury last year during the Whistleblower Trial, don't expect any answers from him regarding his behavior or the decisions he made. The media can dog him all they want, they won't get anywhere. If anything, the possibility of the mayor facing perjury charges gives him a convenient out. Otherwise, surely he would have opened last night's speech to the droves of reporters waiting outside. He may have even done a 1-on-1 with his favorite media personality, Steve Wilson. (Now that would have been something to see). Alas, all that the media will be able to do is run through the 14,000 text messages and try to find a smoking gun.

(4) And then there's the issue of any perjury charges. The county prosecutor has said that she has launched an investigation into the matter. Does that mean that charges are guaranteed to be forthcoming? Not at all. To the casual observer of the content of the text messages, it seems obvious that Kwame and his chief of staff did commit perjury when they denied having an affair or any knowledge of the firings of police officers who were close to exposing the affair. But you and I (well, I'm assuming most of you) have spent a grand total of zero hours in law school. What if the text messages are ruled inadmissible? The case would pretty much be blown away if that were to happen.

(5) If the perjury charges do come to fruition, expect the whole process to come to a c-r-a-w-l. The mayor's attorneys will make sure that it will be years before there is a trial. At some point Kwame would have to decide if wants to run for re-election in 2009. Expect him to. And he'll probably win if, as I mentioned above in #1, he stays out of trouble.

(6) Here's the climax: IF there is a perjury trial, and IF a jury of the mayor's peers find him guilty, then and only then will we see Kwame M. Kilpatrick resign as the mayor of Detroit, rather than face the embarrassment of removal by the city council (if they even have the power to do that). But that's two big IFs. More than likely, if it even got that far, he would beat the charges - and go on serving as the mayor.

That's why the deputy mayor scoffed on Tuesday when a reporter (sounded like Steve Wilson) asked him if the mayor was going to resign. There are plenty of hurdles to get over before we get there - IF we get there. Again, to the casual observer outside the Manoogian Mansion, it seems that resigning is a foregone conclusion. But Kwame and his friends think he can beat the scandal, beat the charges, (and, hell, beat Steve Wilson and the "white media") and go on. For sure, his legacy will be controversial and divisive, and it will go on ...

... for a while longer anyway.

Missing Motown

2008-01-28T14:24:00.002-05:00

"Philly's fine, but it ain't home. Detroit's home, but it ain't mine no more."

Neil Diamond never sang those lyrics, but I'm convinced he would have if he had to choose between those two cities under the same circumstances.

Ahh, Detroit. The Motor City. Motown. The Big D. The 313. Hockeytown. The Arsenal of Democracy.

I miss it. Call me crazy.

A year ago at this time, the dining room of our house in Royal Oak was nearly impassable, filled with a pile of boxes that almost reached the ceiling. We were in a mad scramble to try and get everything organized, labelled, and packed before loading a rental truck bound for Philadelphia. And although we were staring at a mountain of boxes, most of the big things were staying behind temporarily for staging purposes to help try and sell our house. The scene was surreal, and it smacked like something from a Dick DeVos campaign ad.

It was a huge transition for our family. The metropolitan Detroit area had been my home for almost 12 years, and Jena had been there for about seven of them. We dated and got married there. We rented our first apartment together there. We bought our first house there. We joined our first church there. Charlie and Jamie were both born there, in the same hospital.

There were a lot of other "firsts" too, but those were by far the biggest ones. And we left a lot of friends behind. Putting this all together, you can see why I still have so much affection for the place.

But that's not the whole story. I really became interested in the city. I bought a copy of the Detroit Almanac. I did research and learned about the city's history. I read extensively about many things: the buildings downtown, the auto industry, the causes and the events of the 1967 riot, the War of 1812, just to name a few.

I liked to surprise Jena with Detroit things. One year we went to the Dally in the Alley. Another day we checked out the Eastern Market and enjoyed barbecue and bought a smokebush for the yard. We went to see the Belle Isle aquarium on the last day it was open. Just a few days before Jamie was born, we went bowling and ate lunch at the Majectic. We went exploring and found Mexicantown and Greektown and fell in love with its restaurants and bakeries. We brought our boys to the Detroit Science Center. I brought Charlie and waited in a long line to pay our respects to Rosa Parks when she was lying in state at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History. Jena and I saw the VanGogh portrait exhibit at the Detroit Institute of Arts. We took my in-laws on the historic house tour of Indian Village. We admired the houses of the Boston-Edison neighborhood. We went for the grand opening of the new Detroit airport terminal. We took my parents to an RV show at the Silverdome, the Chrysler Museum, and took them to the Ford Rouge factory tour. We became members of the Detroit Zoo and visited several times. We went to the North American International Auto Show one year. We were all over the RenCen and Campus Martius the day of Super Bowl XL. We had box seats for a Red Wings' game once. We checked out the new (and small) Hard Rock Café. We saw Jimmy Kimmel at the Gem Theater. We saw the Rockettes at the Fox Theater. We saw "Les Misérables" at the Fisher Theater. We saw "Roman Holiday" at the Redford Theater. And one day I drove her to the intersection of 12th and Clairmount in Detroit and told her that we were at the epicenter of the `67 riot.

I took pictures of abandoned buildings and was fascinated with what the city may have been like 40, 50, 100 years prior. I read all about the Book-Cadillac Hotel, joined its Friends group, and was excited to hear about its renovation (we're making plans to stay there one day when it is finished). I was sad to see the demolition of the Madison-Lenox Hotel and Hudson's flagship store. I admired the United Artists Theater building and its painted windows. I had an opportunity to see the former Michigan Theater building, which is now a parking garage, from the inside following a job interview (the theater is in the movie "8 Mile"). I propped Charlie up for pictures in front of Tiger Stadium, the Michigan Central Train Station, and the Chin Tiki (also in "8 Mile"). I remember what Trapper's Alley looked like before the Greektown Casino took it over. I went to art shows and flipped through pictures of Olympia stadium and the Ford Rotunda. I bought an old Northwest Airlines terminal sign that said "Welcome to Detroit," and bought a piece of steel artwork with a silhouette of Detroit for my basement bar (not built yet). I dreamed of maybe someday buying the GAR Building in downtown Detroit, if my finances, my wife, and the Illitch family would ever allow it.

I also read about uniquely Detroit things: Hudson's, Vernor's, the Purple Gang, the original plans for the PeopleMover, Zug Island, and the Nike base on Belle Isle, just to name a few. I probably have seen enough of Detroit, and know more about its history, than a good deal of the people who have called it home for their entire lives - or certainly enough to have a good, friendly conversation with a local.

So when people ask me today where I am from, I say "Philly ... but I just moved here from Detroit." I guess I am secretly hoping that maybe the other person is from the city, or has at least been there. But most of the time, unfortunately, that's as far as it goes.

It ain't mine no more. But maybe someday it will be again.

Creepy Artwork for Kids

2008-01-23T21:41:00.005-05:00

And now for something from the Disturbing Department.

We recently ordered some books through Charlie's pre-school. Among our selections was a series called the "Thomas & Friends" Book Club. (For those of you who don't have kids, Thomas is a train engine that has a show on PBS and is wildly popular with the under-5 demographic). This week we received a pretty elaborate piece of cardboard that will serve as the bookends for these books. The picture above is of a drawing on one side of the bookend.

C-r-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-p-y ...

What are these train engines smiling so maniacally about? Did they just drop off a few thousand people at a Nazi death camp? They hiding bin Laden?

Something evil is afoot here.

Too Tired For Art

2008-01-22T11:19:00.000-05:00

On Sunday we went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Normally admission for adults is $14, but on Sundays you can "pay what you wish." Why anyone would go on any other day of the week is beyond me, but we decided to each pay $5 and check the place out.

The museum is BIG; it's divided into two wings on two floors. American Art, European Art 1850-1900, Modern and Contemporary Art and Special Exhibitions are on the first floor, while European Art 1100-1500, Asian Art, Arms and Armor, and European Art 1500-1850 are on the second floor.

Maybe we don't know our art, but for most of the museum we were kinda lost. But eventually we did see some VanGogh, Manet, Monet, Renoir and Picasso. There were even some Andy Warhol pieces. We saw some of the more familiar portraits of George Washington too. Another interesting exhibit were portraits and busts of Benjamin Franklin. (You can't get enough of Franklin in Philly). The armory reminded me of similar displays in the Tower of London and in Venice.

As the picture above suggests, the boys were pretty well behaved. They were both sawing logs for about half of the visit, which made the trip a peaceful one, but we had to take turns pushing their dead weight around. I noticed that several museum employees were smiling and snickering at us as we navigated through the galleries. Guess they have seen that before a million times.

Not to sound negative (I'm really not a negative person), but I didn't really understand what was so great about the "Notations/William Kentridge: Tapestries" exhibit; it's just construction paper on clip art maps. The real headscratcher for me (and I think for Jena too) was Cy Twombly's "Fifty Days at Iliam" collection. It looked like something my 1-year-old and 3-year-old could have collaborated on ("Fifty Days at Daycare"). After we saw this, Jena and I wondered aloud how many people had to decide that a piece was "art." But I think "Iliam" is worth seeing if only that it could inspire people who don't think they are talented enough to be an artist to think otherwise.

Well, I was inspired anyway.

High on the Hejab

2008-01-21T15:38:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, Jena and I ventured into Center City Philadelphia for a date, while a babysitter stayed home with the boys. It marked the first time since our move to Philly that we went out on a bondafide date (not including the time I took Jena to the Cherry Hill Municipal Court for a traffic violation).

We drove down to the Woodcrest PATCO station and caught the Speedline into the city, disembarking at the 8th/Market Street Station. (It's really nice to live in an area where mass transit is a viable option). We had tickets for a 7:40 movie, so we had a little bit of time for dinner. After passing on a couple options that had longer waits, we decided to eat at Aqua Cuisine, a Thai-Malaysian restaurant at 706 Chestnut Street. (Thai is one of our favorites). After a Satay Chicken appetizer, Jena had Kari Ayam and I had Sambal Udang. For dessert we had coconut ice cream, which was pretty amazing. We probably would have stayed a little longer, but we had to rush over to the Ritz at the Bourse theater, about three blocks away, to catch the movie.

Our date movie was "Persepolis," an animated film based on the novel by Marjane Satrapi. The film was written and directed by Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. The movie starts in Tehran in 1978-1979, just before the Iranian Revolution. Presented from then 9-year-old Marjane's perspective, the film shows how the Iranian people agitated for freedom from the repressive (and U.S. backed) Shah, but their dreams turn into a nightmare when Islamic fundamentalists take over. The women in the country were forced to wear the hejab, a black head covering. Life is made even more miserable by the Iran-Iraq War. The movie ends with Marjane a 21-year-old expatriate living in Paris.

There has been a lot of Oscar buzz around this movie, and I hope it wins. It has already won the Prize of the Jury at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival.

After the movie we walked back to the PATCO station (passed Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell twice ... that doesn't suck!) and caught the Speedline back to New Jersey. We took bets to see if the boys were still awake, but miraculously they were both sound asleep when we got back.

A successful date night!

Door - 1, Charlie - 0

2008-01-18T16:49:00.000-05:00

Today, Jena and I joined an exclusive fraternity, Ro Sham Sew (better known as "Parents Who Had To Rush Their Kid To The Hospital With His Head Busted Open.")

It happened like all accidents I suppose, suddenly and without warning. This morning I had come home from a job interview, and Jena was about to leave for work. She was sitting at our desk and I was standing next to her, looking into the kitchen. Suddenly, Charlie ran around the kitchen corner. He tripped over a small pile of laundry and landed on his belly. We have a closet in the kitchen with two bi-fold doors, and the doors were open at the time. When Charlie tripped, he landed flat on his face, and his head *just* made contact with the edge (or possibly the hinge) of the open bi-fold door.

Somehow, Jena got to Charlie first. He was crying and had his hand to his temple. That's when we saw a rush of crimson running between his fingers, down his face and onto his pajamas.

Emergency mode kicked in. We all scrambled out to the Jeep and were down the road in minutes. Charlie was surprisingly calm, and held a wet paper towel to his head. We debated where to go with him: the hospital or the pediatrician's office? We eventually settled on going to the latter, about 15 minutes away. Jena tried calling the office several times and, for some god-forsaken reason, no one was answering. "Why aren't they answering?!" But there was no answer. And when we got there, we found out that we should have gone to the hospital; they don't do sutures at the office any more (but reportedly used to do them).

The maddening thing about this whole incident is that it didn't seem like anyone at the pediatrician's office was in a big rush to help us. The triage nurses looked at Charlie and said he was "happy." Uh, NO he's not. And when I asked where the closest hospital was, there were a few suggestions, but no one knew exactly how to get to any of them. It's a good thing we live near a hospital, otherwise we would have been in a serious fix.

We left the pediatrician's office and drove about another 15 minutes to the hospital (5 minutes from our apartment!). We went to the emergency room and a nurse put a bandage around Charlie's head. We were later admitted to the "fast track" section of the hospital. When it was time to sew up his cut, the nurses put Charlie in a "papoose," which was basically a small body-sized board with huge velcro straps. When Charlie was completely wrapped up, he looked like he was in a straightjacket.

Then came the worst part: closing up the cut.

I had never seen stitches being administered before, so I helped comfort Charlie and hold him down. The doctor injected a painkiller about four times into various open spots of the wound, and it started to bleed again. At that point, Charlie started screaming at the top of his lungs, and did so for the rest of the procedure. A large swabbing of iodine came next, and then finally it was time to sew up the cut. The doctor used a small fishhook-like needle to thread the wound. The first stitch was at the center, the second above it and the third below. I actually thought that maybe he needed a couple more stitches, but it looks like three were all that were needed.

Charlie was let out of the papoose and he settled down right away. The nurses gave him stickers, cookies, and a coloring book, and he got even more goodies from Mom and Dad. All things considered, he was actually very good through the entire ordeal.

Now ... does anyone know where I can get a papoose?

Sellers beware! Taxpayers too!

2008-01-08T14:37:00.000-05:00

You're all aware that the real estate market in the U.S. is a crapshoot right now. It's a "buyer's market" in most places; it certainly was when Paris Hilton bought our house in Michigan last July. Still, we consider ourselves lucky that we didn't need to come to the closing with our checkbook (which is essentially paying someone to take your house from you). Paris didn't give us as much as we would have liked (I thought she was rich?), but we figured we would make it up when it was our turn to be the buyer, in the Philadelphia area.

The tables have turned. Well, sort of.

Philly, it turns out, is a "buyer's market" too, but not everywhere. We've found that sellers in the more desirable communities are getting pretty close to what they ask for. Seems like that's the story everywhere, not just Philly.

But the X-factor out here are the taxes. Think you're paying a lot in property taxes? Try $6000 to $7000 on for size. Yeah, ouch. That's what they are in most places around here. New Jersey has the highest property taxes in the nation, and it looks like Pennsylvania isn't too far behind. Delaware taxes are low, but that's a little bit of a haul.

So I said the tables have "sort of" turned. That's because we've been looking for a house in New Jersey. The taxes are high, but we really like the communities on this side of the river. The people here are very nice too. We decided to put down roots in the Garden State, and started looking seriously for a house in October. Since then we've seen many houses (probably about 100), and made offers on three of them so far. Here is a little bit about them:

Avondale Road,
Haddon Township

This house sits on a fairly busy corner in the Haddonleigh section of Haddon Township. We first came across it while driving around in October. It has three bedrooms and one and a half baths. The front of the house is stone and has a very rich looking exterior. It has a tiny backyard, but there is a good-sized side yard. And although this house sits or a corner, the landscaping makes it very private.

But the bathrooms, and especially the kitchen, needed updating, the windows probably needed to be replaced, and there was no A/C. Also, there was a mold remediation issue in the basement, and there was some evidence of termite damage.

We paid $70 for a contractor to come out and see the house. He said there were some issues, but overall it was a well-constructed house and an excellent opportunity. After taking this into consideration, we decided to make an offer on the house. The seller countered, but we were far apart on a final number. It didn't look like we were getting any closer to bridging the gap after a second offer and counteroffer, so we walked away.

Stockton Avenue,
Wenonah

Another corner house (why were we looking at corners?), but this one was a ranch. Not nearly as busy of a corner as Avondale. The house has three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one of which was off the master bedroom. The best part about this house was the full, unfinished (and dry) basement. There was some work that needed to be done: the hardwood floors needed to be sanded, the kitchen needed updating, and one bedroom had to be taken down to the studs because it had paneling on the walls, but no drywall behind it. But overall this was a good house.

We made an offer just before Christmas, and the seller made a verbal agreement at that price. What happened after that gets complicated, but basically the seller changed her mind. She actually RAISED the price of the house, probably to avoid a "short sale" situation. There was also some confusion about what the house was assessed at with the boro. We were disappointed, but we decided it would be better to move on.

10th Street,
Haddon Heights

This was a 4-bedroom, 2-bathroom house in the boro of Haddon Heights. It's on a very cute street where all of the houses in the neighborhood are different and well-maintained. Amazingly, this house is not on a corner. There is a very big backyard, and the lot is about 200 feet deep. The basement is full and unfinished. The entire house is clean, and in move-in condition. The kitchen is from the 50s, but it is in good shape, has quite the retro look, and has (we later found out) coveted Youngstown brand cabinets.

There was some downside: No A/C, oil heat, and a HUGE sweet gum tree in the backyard. Not familiar with sweet gum? It's a real crowd pleaser. It's a fruit tree that makes hundreds of little brown balls with spikes on them. We had one in Michigan about a third of the size of this one.

We made an offer, and it was accepted. We then signed a purchase agreement. But the next day we decided to pull back on the offer because of several uncertainties: my ongoing job search, Jena's eye health, and the news that Countrywide was being purchased by Bank of America, and that the Federal Reserve had lowered interest rates. We decided that maybe it would be a smarter idea to wait another month or two and see what happens. We really liked this house, and the town, so it was a difficult decision to make. But I think we will eventually wind up in Haddon Heights.

2007: Year Of The Toilet

2008-01-04T00:55:00.002-05:00

2007 is over. All hail 2008.

Seriously people, I can't remember the last time I was so eager to see the ball drop in Times Square. To say that 2007 was a "bad year" would be a massive understatement. "Woefully abysmal" would be more accurate. The last 12 months were so unbelievably terrible, I've actually found myself scoffing at those who had a great 2007, and feel a kinship with those who would rather forget the year even happened. Had I not been in bed watching Ryan Seacrest inch ever closer to taking his undeserved spot as Dick Clark's heir apparent, I would have been in a bar in South Jersey somewhere, cursing 2007 and belting out Auld Lang Syne with the rest of the dregs that it left behind.

Now, one could make the argument that I was due for a bad year. I submit that five of the last eight years were particularly joyous for me. Consider during that stretch of time I met Jena (1999), married her and travelled with her to Italy (2001), we got our first house (2003), had our first son, Charlie (2004), and our second son, Jamie (2006). The other three years during that timeframe were also happy times, spent courting Jena (2000), house hunting (2002), and learning to be new parents (2005).

2007. Cursed. Damned. Unholy.

I know what you're thinking. "C'mon, Carlos ... isn't this a little over the top? No year could have possibly been THAT bad. You're exaggerating." Ah, but I wish I was. Allow me to illuminate you. Here is a breakdown of the past 365 wretched days that together composed 2007, written almanac style for your reading pleasure.

January
9 — After more than three months of being unemployed in Michigan, I accepted a job offer in the Philadelphia area. I then had to resign my position as a council member for Zion Lutheran Church, just days after being elected.

10 — During a Jan. 5-8 apartment hunting trip to the Philadelphia area with Jena and both boys in tow, we find a great place in Cheltenham and give a cash deposit to a landlord. But shortly after our return to Michigan, the landlord decides to rent the apartment to another couple who were doing a local move. He does, however, return our deposit money. But the decision means we now have to drive 18 hours back and forth to the Philly area again to look for an apartment, and the second trip will be without Jena and Jamie, because they are already booked on a flight to Florida to visit the grandparents.

13 to 15 — I drive back to Philadelphia with Charlie. We find another apartment, this one in Glenside. The rent is cheap and it is within walking distance of the SEPTA train. Unfortunately, upon moving in a few weeks later we discover the apartment is a total dump, and I immediately regret the decision to move there. We spend much of the rest of the year looking for a new apartment, and eventually break our lease.

22 — A real estate agent from Birmingham who we were going to have help sell our house, misses two appointments with us, and accuses Jena of making a scheduling mistake. We instead decide to list our house with another Birmingham agent, Dawn Rassel.

February
2 to 3 — We rent a large truck and a trailer for the move to Philadelphia. We say goodbye to our friends and neighbors in Michigan. The trip is marred by dangerously cold temperatures (around 70 below with wind chill) and near blizzard conditions.

4 — The Chicago Bears, my football team, lose Super Bowl XLI to the Indianapolis Colts, 29-17.

5 — My first day at work at my new job with a software company in suburban Philadelphia. In a telltale sign of things to come, my new boss tells me to "get started reading software manuals." The company gradually becomes a nightmare employer.

14 — On Valentine's Day, I go on a one-day business trip with my new boss and another co-worker. We take an Amtrak train to Washington D.C., where a client is headquartered. The Amtrak rides and the visit with the client all go smoothly. Upon returning to Philadelphia's 30th Street Station, we all split up to catch different SEPTA trains. I purchase some roses for Jena and then wait for the SEPTA train that will take me back to Glenside. While waiting, I see my new boss in a drunken stupor stagger up to the ticket window and get into an angry confrontation with a female ticket agent. He shouts and throws money at her, then angrily storms off to his platform. He had been drinking on the Amtrak train back to Philly, and had apparently gone to a bar in the station for a few more drinks before getting on the SEPTA. After seeing him drunk a few more times, both at work and in other settings, I deduce that my new boss may have a drinking problem.

March
4 to 24 — Jena gets very sick. She has an extremely painful sore throat. She goes to see a doctor on March 5, and I skip one day of travel back down to D.C. to stay home and try to take care of her. She isn't much better the next day when I have to leave her with the boys and go to D.C. Thankfully, the trip is cut short and I am back home for the rest of her illness. Jena does not improve, gets dehydrated, and is admitted to Abington Memorial Hospital on March 12. She is released a few hours later. I work from home, March 13-14. We decide to send the boys to their grandparents in Richmond until Jena gets better. I meet my parents in Baltimore on March 15, and Charlie and Jamie go home with them. Jena still does not improve. We think that the Glenside apartment, which is filthy, may not be helping her recovery. Jena takes a train down to Richmond on March 20. Jena finally starts to feel better around March 23, and I meet her and the boys and my parents again in Baltimore. Jena is sick for a total of 21 days.

27 — We find out that despite pleas from my parents, the pastor of their church refuses to baptize their grandson, Jamie, because his parents are not church members. It doesn't seem to matter that my parents have been active members of the church since 1992, and I was once a member there myself and worked with the Youth Group. We eventually get Jamie baptized at our church in Michigan, but no friends or relatives (or even the congregation) are in attendance.

April
7 — My mother-in-law comes to visit, April 4 to 9. (This isn't the bad part, I love my mother-in-law). On the night of April 7, Jena and I get ready to go out to a movie. The boys are asleep, and my mother-in-law is trying to get to sleep on the couch in our living room, but can't because our upstairs neighbors are having a loud party, and it's not the first one they've had. I decide to go upstairs and knock on their door and ask them to please keep the noise down. The drunk boyfriend of the young woman who lives upstairs answers the door and gets belligerent with me. He tells me that my kids make a lot of noise, and that therefore he doesn't have to keep the noise down. We almost get into a fist fight. After the confrontation is over and I go back downstairs, they are strangely quiet for the rest of the evening, but my mother-in-law is terrified. Jena and I decide to stay close and get drinks at Applebee's instead of going to see a movie.

May
6 — I lose my $300 cell phone following a softball game in Warrington. I may have placed it on the roof of my car while buckling up one of the boys.

9 — I get pulled over by the police (jurisdiction undetermined) in Jenkintown and receive a warning about a headlight.

11 — We attend a Chicago Cubs-Philadelphia Phillies baseball game at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia. I park on a street with a long line of other cars before the game, but afterwards I receive a $41 parking ticket. The Cubs lose the game, 7-2.

14 to 18 — I am sent to a client in Upper Saddle River, N.J. for a week with a co-worker. At the beginning of one of our first meetings there, my co-worker decides to introduce both of us, and tells everyone that "if you need help picking the next card in solitaire, Charlie is the guy to go to." I am furious. I initially decide to confront him during our lunch break, but when the opportunity to do so arrives I decide against it, since I may be working with him for some time. Holding back later proves to be a mistake.

25 — Jena gets a ticket after missing a toll booth on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

29 — Jena gets her Pennsylvania driver's license, but I am unable to get mine because I don't have all the required paperwork.

June
2 — I return to the DMV for a second time, but am still unable to get my Pennsylvania driver's license because the computers are down.

4 — I am sent back to our client in Washington, D.C. Today is my first day of doing formal computer training to a group of people for my new job. The training goes well, but I make the mistake of confiding in an employee there that this was my first training session for my employer. A series of other incidents that did not involve me, most of them political, occur and I am sent home the next day.

7 — Jena has a car accident in Harleysville, Pa. While waiting to make a left turn at a light, another driver crosses the double yellow line and sideswipes her. The police do not come to the scene of the accident, but a police report is filed afterwards. The other driver tells Jena that his family-owned company will pay for the damages, but later that day we find out that they will not. Our insurance company pursues a claim against the other driver for the rest of the year.

8 — We finally receive an offer on our house, but it is for less money than we were hoping. Also, the young single woman who wants to buy our house, a Paris Hilton clone, demands that we make more than $1000 in improvements before closing. Since it is a buyer's market, and without any other offers or prospects, we comply. We spend the next five weeks getting the repairs completed. On the same day, my employer takes me off the Washington, D.C. account for political reasons.

28 — While Jena is out of town to cover an eye doctors' convention in Boston, and the boys are at a babysitter's house, I am suddenly terminated from my job. Despite my best efforts, applying for more than 100 jobs, I would remain unemployed for the rest of 2007.

29 — During the convention in Boston, Jena is diagnosed with Choroidal Neovascularization (CNV) and Degenerative Myopia in her left eye. There is no cure for CNV, and without treatment she could lose her eyesight. She begins two forms of therapy for the CNV, which continue through the end of the year.

30 — I decide to take down the web site for Brenda Monarch, my comic strip character, because of several problems (speed, email, price, downtime) with the web hosting company. It is the first time Brenda is not on the Internet since 1997, and her web site remains down the rest of the year.

July
13 — We close on our house in Royal Oak, bringing an end to 12 years of living in Michigan and the metropolitan Detroit area.

31 — My health insurance coverage through my former employer ends. We would be without health insurance for the next two months.

August
1 — On our first day of living in New Jersey, I am pulled over by the police for speeding in East Greenwich Township. We discover, too late, that Jena had accidently removed the insurance card from the car. I get two tickets: one for speeding, and one for failure to produce proof of insurance. The latter charge requires a court appearance.

2 — Jena has a meeting with her boss. She is told that her editor title will be changed to that of staff writer. The name change is made against her wishes.

6 — To save money, we need pull Charlie and Jamie out of daycare two days a week. They start going to daycare on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

12 — I need to replace another $300 cell phone. The screen broke when I put the phone in my front pocket and then had to run after Charlie in a parking lot.

13 — I receive notice that my court date in East Greenwich Township for my August 1 ticket had been changed to an earlier date, and I had missed it. Since our mail was still being forwarded from Glenside, I did not receive the notice in time.

20 — Comcast refuses to let me return our cable controller to the local office in Moorestown, N.J., so I have to drive an hour to another Comcast office in Willow Grove, Pa.

September
10 — I spend the morning at the East Greenwich Township courthouse for my court appearance. I meet with the prosecutor, who refuses to dismiss the charges of driving without proof of insurance. I have to plead guilty to the charge, and wind up paying about $100 for the ticket and court costs.

11 — Molly, my parents' 9-year-old Golden Retriever, dies suddenly after a brief illness.

13 — A sad anniversary. One year ago we decided to give away Clara, our Yorkshire Terrier.

24 — I prepare for, but fail, the Apple Certified Help Desk Specialist (ACHDS) certification exam. The test cost $150.

30 — After an improbable comeback from last place, the Kodiak Black Sox, my fantasy baseball team, lose the World Series to my friend Michael Miller's curiously-named "Maicer Izturis Kicks Erse" franchise, 6-4.

October
1 — To save money, we decide to pull Jamie completely out of daycare. Charlie keeps going three days a week.

3 to 6 — The Chicago Cubs get swept by the Arizona Diamondbacks in the NLDS.

26 — Jena goes to cover a convention in Tampa, Fla. During the trip, she loses our digital camera.

29 — Jena has her first CNV therapy treatment in Wyncote, Pa. She is given an injection in her eyeball of a drug called Avastin. For the next several days her eye is in pain from the injection.

November
9 — Jena has another CNV procedure, Photodynamic Therapy (PDT), in Cherry Hill, N.J. She must stay out of the sun and away from halogen light for the next 48 hours to avoid burning her skin.

10 to 13 — We learn that our friend, Linda Krasa, is dying of cancer. We decide to drive to Michigan to see her one more time. Linda passes away on Nov. 14.

21 — Jena gets pulled over by the police for not having a front license plate in East Greenwich Township. We think it is the same police officer who pulled me over on August 1 for speeding.

December
1 — I get into a low-speed car accident with the Jeep in Cherry Hill, N.J. A woman driving in front of me slammed on her brakes for no apparent reason way after a yield sign. There is virtually no damage to the Jeep (fortunately), but the other car was a 1990 Nissan Maxima and was totaled. Immediately following the accident, I get out and ask the driver (a woman in her 50s) and the passenger (her mother) if they are both OK and they say yes. We pull over and exchange insurance information. While doing this, the other driver calls the police. She then starts to complain about having a headache. The police show up, and ask if everyone is OK. The other driver again says that she is having headaches, and claims that her mother is having neck pain. The police officer writes me a ticket for careless driving, another charge that requires a court appearance in New Jersey. He tells me that he had to issue the ticket because the other driver claimed she was hurt.

7 — Jena has her second Avastin injection in her eyeball, this time in Cherry Hill. Again, for the next several days her eye is painful.

13 — I go for my court appearance in Cherry Hill. The other driver and her mother do not show up, but the prosecutor refuses to dismiss the charges. The prosecutor gives me two options: avoid points by pleading guilty and paying $400 in fines and court costs, or plead not guilty and go to trial, which I would probably lose and pay $600. At first I decide on the latter, but then change my mind and pick the former.

31 — The year couldn't go by without something bad happening on the last day. After returning from a relaxing trip to Florida for Christmas, I pick up a certified letter from the post office. The woman from the Dec. 1 accident had sought legal counsel, and it appears that she is poised to sue me and my insurance company. There aren't many details yet, but it looks like the fallout from this accident will continue well into 2008, maybe beyond.

Jamie gets baptized

2007-11-25T11:22:00.000-05:00

While we were in the Detroit area to visit with friends and to say goodbye to Linda Krasa, we also had Jamie baptized at our church.

James Wyatt Passut was baptized on Monday, November 12, 2007 at Zion Lutheran Church in Ferndale, Mich. Pastor Paul Gateman officiated the ceremony. Jamie's godparents are George and Rebecca Aho of Royal Oak, Mich.

Bring back Sam the Robot!

2007-11-17T20:23:00.000-05:00

Sam the Robot is a character who appeared on Sesame Street during the '70s. He hasn't been on the show in more than 30 years, but I think Sam (a.k.a. "Super Automated Machine") should be put back on as a recurring character, or at least given a cameo appearance.

This clip is from the Season 4 premiere, Episode 0406, Scene 8, which originally aired on November 27, 1972. Sam meets Gordon (then played by Hal Miller, who was also debuting in the role) and Susan (Loretta Long). Gordon asks Sam what he's doing on Sesame Street, but Sam gets all annoyingly authoritative and insists that he's on Mulberry Street because his programming told him to go there.

Now, for those of you who don't know, Mulberry Street is the hood. It's the ghetto. You hardly ever hear about it because it's so abysmally bad. Think hookers stepping over crack vials. So the very idea that Sam thinks they're all on Mulberry Street really irks Susan and Gordon, a happily married, middle class, African-American couple who work hard and don't appreciate being associated with the wrong side of town. (Is Sam a frickin' racist?) They try to point this out to Sam, who agrees to run his program again just to double-check. But the program (presumably written by Microsoft) comes back with the incorrect answer again that Sam is on Mulberry Street. Susan and Gordon are livid with rage, but they let Sam off with a warning and just smack him around a little bit. They secretly promise, however, to "bust him up royally" if he ever returns to Sesame Street.

This is probably the first time on television (well, on Sesame Street anyway) that the concept of a GPS device could be created and sold to the public. Surely the Garmin owes its very existence to Sam the Robot, defunct Sesame Street character.

Also during this scene, Sam spouts off these gems: "machines are better than people," "machines can do anything," and "machines are perfect," the latter of which throws him into an infinite loop that apparently can only be remedied with a punch in the face. We've always suspected that machines think we are stupid and inferior - at least Sam had the stones to come right out and say so. And remember this was a full 12 years before "The Terminator" came out, when the machines decided to do something about those inferior human beings once and for all. Sam was truly ahead of his time.

So this begs the question: Had Sam not been pulled from Sesame Street back in the mid-'70s, would his celebrity have spawned an entire generation of robot enthusiasts who would grow up to become the scientists that would have put a robot in every home in America by now? Surely the good folks at the Childrens Television Workshop (which ran Sesame Street back then) made a mistake when they pulled the plug on Sam. What did we get in his place? Elmo. You know, the annoying red one who only speaks in the third person.

If you're interested, and I'd be scared if you were, Sam appeared on Sesame Street from Season 4 through Season 7. He's in four books: "The Sesame Street 1, 2, 3 Storybook" (1973), "Oscar-the-Grouch's Alphabet of Trash" (1977), "Big Bird's Busy Book" (1975), and "The Sesame Street Dictionary" (1980 edition). And Sam also appeared in Marvel Comics' Spidey Super Stories #31, a Star Wars parody in which he assumed the role of R2-D2 and met Spider-Man.

And FYI, the Count also made his first appearance on Sesame Street in Episode 0406. Want to see the entire episode on DVD? You can, if you purchase "Sesame Street: Old School, Volume 1," a three-disc set which came out in 2006.

Bring back Sam!

Note: All information courtesy of Muppet Wiki.

A Scanner (for a) Darkie

2007-11-16T13:05:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, October 20, we finally bought a flatbed scanner - a Canon CanoScan 4400F. It connects via hi-speed USB, has a scanning area of 8.5" x 11.7", and can scan either six negatives or four slides in one pass. The maximum color resolution is 4800 x 9600 pixels.

This is actually the second flatbed scanner I have owned. The first was a UMAX Astra 1200S model that I bought back in the mid-'90s. It connected via SCSI and still works pretty well, so it is probably a candidate for Craigslist or eBay. Unfortunately, the UMAX doesn't scan negatives or slides. (So, whatcha think, ask for 50 smackers?)

Jena had been wanting a flatbed scanner so that she could do some work at home. And I had been wanting one so that I could scan in new Brenda Monarch comic strips. Brenda's web site is still down, but hopefully I will be able to put her back online soon. In the meantime, here is a quick pic of Brenda with the new scanner. I tried to be as graphically correct as possible (but it's not too easy to do at .03 mm with a Pigma Micron).

Oh, and could this be some more ammunition for the argument that Brenda is 5'8" and not some dwarf?

Rest In Peace, Linda Krasa

2007-11-15T13:32:00.000-05:00

There was a light in her eye.

Shortly after we moved to Royal Oak in 2003, we started shopping around for a church. We knew that joining a church and having God play a regular part of our lives was important to us, but we had been holding off on making a commitment to a congregation until we had put down roots and bought a house.

And you could tell that she was there.

We made a list of the ELCA Lutheran churches in our area and started to work our way through it by going to Sunday services. The first two were a bit of a disappointment; some members of the first bragged several times about how their church was in a windows commercial, and we were invited (to our horror) by the pastor of the second to join their "Middlers Club."

Her spirit was alive and well.

We were discouraged, but that all changed when we went to the third church on our list: Zion Lutheran Church in Ferndale. It was Rally Sunday, and there was quite a bit of pageantry. The music was amazing. There were choirs for the adults and children. The pastor was entertaining, but he also gave a sermon that really left an impression on me. Everyone held hands during the Lord's Prayer, something that I had never seen done before. The format of the service was very similar to what Jena and I were used to growing up. There was a nursery room, classes for Sunday school, and a long list of activities during the week. But above everything else, the congregation seemed like a close-knit family. There were smiles and handshakes all around during the sharing of the peace, and many more afterwards. Zion was warm and inviting. We knew we had found our church.

But it was trapped behind that one gray eye.

Enter Linda Krasa. That first day at church she came up to us and introduced herself. She introduced us to her husband, Ron, and her daughter, Kate. And she introduced us to a lot of other people. The amazing thing about Linda was that she put us at ease; she made us feel comfortable in a room full of strangers. She welcomed us to Zion and encouraged us to come back the next Sunday, which we did.

Trapped in a body that had been tortured mercilously by cancer for years.

Each time we came back to Zion, we were treated to the same experience we had on Rally Sunday; it wasn't just a one-time thing. Zion was special every week. And so was Linda. We visited with her after church and got to know more about her and her family. Her older brother, Paul, was the pastor. She lived in Ferndale, not too far from the church. Kate had Down's Syndrome, but Linda made sure that never kept her back. She enjoyed singing, collecting knickknacks, and going to all kinds of musical events in the Detroit area. We had lunch with her several times after church, usually frequenting Jimi's in Royal Oak or the Taco Bell on Woodward in Ferndale.

Her spirit, however, was unwavering.

We also learned that Linda had cancer. She had been through chemotherapy - a few times. Each time the cancer came back. One time she had her head shaved and had brain surgery. Sometimes we didn't see Linda at church for a few weeks, while she was at home recovering from cancer treatments. But she always came back, and she always had a smile on her face.

She was still fighting.

And for the four years that we knew Linda, neither Jena nor I ever heard her complain about having cancer. Not once. She was very matter-of-fact about it. Whenever we would see her, we would ask how she was feeling, and she would be up front about it. She had good days and bad. But she never complained being sick. Never. She met the challenge head-on and was determined to beat cancer.

She saw our faces.

When we became members of Zion, Linda was our sponsor. We were flattered that the pastor's sister had taken us under her wing, and she made sure we knew everything about the church. We must have met every single member of the congregation at some point, and Linda was there to introduce us to many of them. She encouraged us to become active in the church, and she more than likely had a hand in me being elected to the church council.

She recognized us.

When we announced that we were pregnant with Charlie, Linda was one of the first people we told. She was thrilled for us. And a couple of months after Charlie was born, Linda offered to babysit so that Jena and I could have a nice romantic dinner for our anniversary. Linda always had smiles, hugs and kisses for Charlie at church, and Kate enjoyed carrying him around. It was the same two years later when we had Jamie.

The corner of her open mouth turned upwards into a smile.

And when we decided earlier this year to move to Philadelphia, the most difficult thing was leaving our friends behind. We had no family members within 800 miles of Detroit, but our friends made us feel like we were at home. We counted Linda as one of our best friends, and we made sure to tell her so. She was sad to see us leave, but we made plans to keep in touch.

Her expression was one that I will never forget.

But Linda's cancer was never completely out of the picture, and her treatments continued. We heard from other people at Zion, especially the church secretary, Jackie Koivu, that Linda was not doing well. Then this past Friday afternoon, we received an email from Jackie: Linda was at home under hospice care. She was dying.

She seemed to be saying "You're here!"

We knew what we had to do. We immediately made plans to drive to Detroit to see Linda one more time. We wanted her to know that we loved her and that she meant a lot to us. We left New Jersey at about 6 p.m. on Saturday night, and pulled up to Linda's house at around 4:45 a.m. Sunday morning. Jackie was there; upon hearing that Linda was going to be at home in hospice care she volunteered to stay with her until the end, the best commitment that any friend could ever give. Jackie let us into the house so that we could visit Linda.

"You came all this way for me."

Linda was in the front room of her house. She was in a hospital bed and propped up at a slight incline. A small Christmas tree was in one corner of the room, its large bulbs filling the room with multi-colored light. There was also a glass bowl of illuminated lights on a shelf above Linda's head. We were told that these were her "happy lights." A boom box was in the corner, softly playing choir music. We later learned that this was a special CD that the choir at Zion had recorded for her to listen to. For that first visit, Linda was asleep. I thought that maybe I had seen her eye open for a second, but it was more than likely involuntary. Her breathing was heavy. Jackie said that she didn't think Linda would make it through the night. We sat next to Linda and held her hand and talked to her for a little while, on the chance that maybe she could hear our voices. We held out hope that there might be some chance that we could let her know that we were there.

"It means a lot to me that you are here."

We went to a friend's house and managed to get a couple hours of sleep before going to church. It was the first time that we had been at church since we moved to Philadelphia. The sermon was about Job and his suffering, which helped me make a little more sense of what was happening, but not enough. We gave Kate a big hug when we were returning to our seats after Holy Communion. After church, we saw the pastor and told him that we were planning to visit Linda again. He said that was fine, but not to expect her to be awake. We understood that there was a good chance our second visit was going to be much like the first.

"Thank you for being such good friends."

But a miracle happened. When we got to Linda's house we were told that she was awake and alert. There were several other people from Zion there as well. Our prayers had been answered; we could let our friend know how much we love her and care about her. We spent as much time with her as we could. She saw how big Charlie and (especially) Jamie had grown. She couldn't speak too much above a whisper, and her breathing was a little heavier.

"Remember me and how much I loved living."

We went back two more times, once on Sunday evening and again on Monday morning, but Linda was asleep. Her breathing was getting heavier and more forced. Everyone knew that the end was coming. We said our last goodbyes, and made the journey back to New Jersey. Last night, we received a call from Jackie that Linda had passed away at about 10 a.m. on Wednesday.

And now I see that light everywhere.

"C" Is Still For "Cookie"

2007-10-19T00:32:00.000-04:00

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize again for the inappropriate language in my blog entry yesterday. I hope no one was offended. It's my intention to keep this blog as clean and "family friendly" as possible. With that spirit in mind, I offer the above clip for your entertainment.

FYI, the first time I saw this I couldn't stop laughing for two hours.

This clip is from the "Jimmy Kimmel Live" telelvision program, part of the recurring (and very funny) "Unnecessary Censorship" skit. This particular segment aired during the week of Super Bowl XL, which was held at Ford Field in downtown Detroit on February 6, 2006.

When the Detroit Pistons met the Los Angeles Lakers in the 2004 NBA Finals, Kimmel angered Detroiters with some unflattering remarks he made about the city. (Detroit went on to upset the Lakers in five games). One year later, during the ramp up to Super Bowl XL, Kimmel wanted to make amends with the Motor City, and he did so by filming four episodes of his show during Super Bowl week from the Gem Theater, which is just across the street from Ford Field. Having Kimmel in town added another level of excitement in downtown Detroit that week.

Jena and I attended the first of Kimmel's shows at the Gem. Kid Rock was a guest, and he later performed in another part of the building. Kid had also shot a comedy skit with Kimmel, which was pretty hilarious. David Alan Grier was another guest, and Seattle Seahawks quarterback Matt Hasselbeck did a short skit with Kimmel from the band pit. Later that night we went home and watched the show again, courtesy of TiVo. We saw ourselves in the audience for a split second.

Outside the Gem Theater, I ran into ESPN's Dan Patrick. He was very gracious and agreed to pose with me for a photo. He's the last celebrity I have met in person; I don't think Victor E. Huskie counts.

Was this ad really necessary? (Adult)

2007-10-18T00:51:00.000-04:00

I hate this goddam commercial.

Why? Oh man ... where do I begin?

For starters, creating a cure for erectile dysfunction has got to be the most unnecessary medical breakthrough of the last quarter century. It's kind of like finding a cure for unwanted nose hair. Let's not forget that as of this writing, there are still no cures for cancer, heart disease, AIDS, diabetes, paralysis, Alzheimer's, etc. etc. etc.

But we nailed ED.

Je suis naïve? Hell non; I know that annual sales of ED drugs are more than one billion dollars. That's a lot of flaccid penises. There's obviously a demand, and the drug companies are making more money than the combined GDP of all the countries of Sub-Saharan Africa in meeting that demand. But what good is a drug that helps an old guy get a boner if he's gonna croak in his 50s or 60s from cancer or heart disease? Or, even worse, what happens to all those ladies in the same age bracket? Are we going to let them die from cancer and heart disease after they put up that spirited, terrified flight from The Old Pecker That Roared? That hardly seems right.

It all boils down to a truly warped and absolutely perverted sense of priorities. Cocks before chemo. But hey, men still make 95% of the important decisions in this world. I believe James Brown sang a song about it once.

Speaking of songs, that's another beef I have with this ad. It's hard to imagine the Presley estate is short on cash, so why did they sell out to Pfizer and let them make this abomination? What, did they need another bag of money to hold open a door down the hall? My theory is Priscilla found a way to get back at Elvis for his well-publicized tryst with Ann-Margret; they co-starred together in the 1964 film (gasp!) "Viva Las Vegas."

So if anyone out there is still clinging to the belief that Elvis isn't dead, listen up: He's probably seen this ad on television somewhere and the shock finished him off.

Which is a convenient segue to my next complaint about these ED drugs: It's not possible to watch any channel of broadcast television for all of 45 minutes without seeing at least one ad for either Viagra, Cialis or Levitra. Think "Spongebob Squarepants" is immune? Think again. I can't wait for the day when I need to explain to my two young sons why the man stopped washing his car and went into the house after the lady who looks like she just sat on something sharp. Oh, and watching those white soap suds slowly ooooooze their way down the curves of that automobile was a nice touch of erotica - don't think I missed what you're trying to say there. But I'll spare you (and myself) the shame and not share those details with my boys.

(Hey, that last ED drug I mentioned? Levitra? Pure evil. Health Canada sez that in rare cases it may cause "penile tissue damage and permanent loss of potency." Super. Imagine first having ED, then taking Levitra for it, and winding up with a cock that looks like a pretzel. Nice.)

Finally, I turn my contempt to the ad itself and the six male "actors" who are in it. Omigod, what a bunch of assholes.

(Sorry about the language, but I am a firm believer in using the right word for the right occasion and, at 3:18 am, this one fits perfectly. Besides, I never said this was a G-rated blog. However, I will promise to keep the swearing to a minimum. I find that people who use foul language excessively come off as uneducated. So again, my apologies).

Now, where was I? Oh yeah - assholes, every one of them. These limp dickers have no class at all. You know that each one of them read the script for this ad ahead of time, and none of them had a problem with any cheese-covered part of it. They didn't have any problem helping put this piece of crap together. They must HATE Elvis. And did I call these losers "actors?" It sounds like they're lip synching. Upon closer inspection, it doesn't look like these guys are playing their (ahem) instruments either, and I'll be damned if there's a harmonica playing at any time, so what's with the prop?

AND this ad has major legitimacy problems. Here's a question: What six guys are gonna sit around at the old road house pickin' guitars and singing about their erections? Six GAY guys, that's who. They're not about to go home and "get some" - they've already performed unconventional sexual acts on each other for the last four hours and that poor dog had to watch. And as this wretched ad finally draws to a close, we see these jackoffs exchanging high fives and flashing peace signs to each other before they peel the hell outta there in their trucks and motorcycles. I'm so disappointed that the much ballyhooed sudden decrease in vision doesn't kick in en masse and they don't drive off the rim of the Grand Canyon and perish in a cataclysmic fireball with that obnoxious, animated "Viva Viagra" logo coming through the flames. That'd be the best ending ever! I'd gladly watch this ad the normal 294 times a day if it ended like that. Alas.

So that's why I hate this commercial.

Oh, and Elvis? If you're reading this, I got your back.

Daddy Day Care

2007-10-02T08:56:00.000-04:00

This morning, Jamie dropped his car 278,391 times, and Charlie, to Jamie's delight, picked it up for him every time.

And to think, we spend hundreds of dollars a month on daycare.

The kitchen floor has seen better days, though.

Happy Birthday Jamie!

2007-09-25T15:51:00.000-04:00

Today is our son's first birthday!

James Wyatt Passut was born at around 9:00 a.m. on Monday, September 25, 2006. He weighed 4 pounds, 12 ounces. Jamie was a preemie, born about six weeks early (we were told that a Halloween baby was a possibility). Like his older brother Charlie, Jamie was delivered by Caeserean section at Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, Michigan.

James is named after James Morris, Jena's stepdad. Wyatt is Kathy's maiden name, and the last name of Jena's maternal grandparents, Warren and Stella Wyatt of Riceville, Iowa. Jena also has a cousin, Wyatt Lee, of Elma, Iowa. James' initials, JWP, also fit neatly into the family paradigm of a C or J (for first names), and an M or W (for middle names, but W used for children), hence: CMP (dad), JMP (mom), and CWP (brother).

The picture on the left is of Jamie in Beaumont's NICU, which he was in for several days before we could take him home. He was placed under blue light a couple of times to help fight jaundice. At the right is Jamie on August 31, 2007 (OK, it's not September, sue me) during a visit to the National Aquarium in Baltimore.

Happy Birthday Jamie!

Happy Birthday Jena!

2007-09-20T16:27:00.000-04:00

Here's something a little something à la Perez Hilton.

Jena turns 33 today. I'm going to try and get her to drink a Rolling Rock to mark the occasion.

I think a "Jena Rocks" beer bottle would say this on the label:

Jena Rocks - From the glass littered streets of Cedar Rapids, we tender this premium wife for your enjoyment as a tribute to your good taste. It comes from God's good grace to you

"33"

Happy Birthday honey!

A year for the dogs

2007-09-13T08:20:00.000-04:00

This is Clara, our Yorkshire Terrier. She was our pet, and our baby, for about seven years.

Today is a grim anniversary of sorts: One year ago today we decided to give her away.

It's hard to believe that an entire year has passed since we last said goodbye to Clara. It's been quite a year too, lemme tell ya. This hasn't exactly been the best year for us. Sometimes I wonder if things started to go downhill after Clara left. Hmmm ... maybe. But it doesn't seem right to put a year's worth of misfortunes squarely on the shoulders of a dog that barely weighed seven pounds. And it wouldn't be right to have a blog and not say something about her on this sad day, one year removed.

I could write a tome about Clara. She came into my life shortly after Jena did, in 1999. Actually, when I first met Jena in Georgia she didn't have Clara yet; she picked her up from an animal recsuer shortly afterwards (Clara's first owner tried, but could not take care of her). That autumn, Clara ran away (her first of several escape attempts) and was missing for a few weeks. Then Clara had somehow escaped from whomever had found her, and Jena and Clara were tearfully reunited.

Jena and Clara moved to Michigan in March of 2000, and the three of us became a family. We took her everywhere we could. My employer at the time was very liberal, and allowed workers to bring their dogs to work. Clara was by far the smallest dog there, but she was a big hit with my co-workers. (The CEO of the company actually dognapped her once while I was at lunch, and I found him carrying her around the building like a baby). She loved being pampered, and became quite the little diva. She was an excellent travelling companion. Clara has probably been to at least 10-15 states and Canada. We smuggled her into countless hotels that didn't allow pets and, before 9-11, onto airplanes for long-distance adventures.

Clara has growled at a coyote (from the safety of the car window) in Joshua Tree National Park. She has chased chickens at a farm in Iowa. She has walked the dunes of Silver Lake State Park in Michigan, and the Dog Beach in Huntington Beach, California. She has been in the St. Patrick's Day parade in Royal Oak. We have hundreds, nay thousands, of pictures from our travels and Clara is in most of them.

And Clara was a LAP DOG. At work, she would sit in my lap all day. She would grunt disapprovingly when I had to leave my cubicle, but would be right back in my lap when I returned. It was annoying sometimes, but looking back now it is something that I really miss. She was a lap dog in the car too, and she would usually rest her head on my left arm at the elbow. When I would have to make a turn, she would raise her head and let me make the maneuver, but would put her head right back when I was done.

She loved carrots, of all things, and went absolutely bonkers if you were in the kitchen cutting up something crunchy.

Clara was not the healthiest dog in the world. She was born with several shunts, blood vessels that bypassed her liver. I mentioned earlier that Clara had a previous owner but was not able to care for her. This person took Clara to the veterinarian and had her operated on; one of the larger shunts was clamped shut. But there were too many shunts to have them all clamped off, and so Clara would need to stick to a very strict, low protein diet for life. She was not expected to live very long, a few years tops. Clara's medical bills were very expensive (as I would also discover), so her first owner gave her up. While Clara was in our care she did have a few surgeries, the most serious of which was when she had to have her bladder cut open and two large crystals removed.

Despite her medical problems, we loved Clara and made a commitment to do whatever we could for her. We knew that her time with us could be short, so we treated every year together as a gift.

But the writing was on the wall after we had Charlie in 2004 and Clara officially lost her title as "the baby." There was a nervous kind of détente around the house when we first brought Charlie home. Clara didn't act out too much at first, but tensions grew with Charlie. He was very curious about the dog, but she would always steer clear, retreating to her sanctuary at the top of the couch. But Charlie became an expert climber and would soon reach her. He wasn't always gentle with her, and Clara defended herself the only way she knew how.

So when Clara nipped Charlie in the face sometime in September 2006, we decided she would be happier somewhere else, preferrably in a household without small children. It was a heart-wrenching decision to make. All this time, I thought I would be saying goodbye to Clara at the vet's office while she was being euthanized (and I would occasionally joke with Jena that she would make me go through the unpleasantries without her). But giving her away was a lot harder; admitting that we couldn't take care of her any more and giving her away seemed like such a failure on our part.

Today, looking back on it, it was probably the right decision to make. We didn't know it at the time, but Jamie was only twelve days away. Charlie can be gentle and loves animals, but he can also be aggressive. I'm not sure if Clara would have enjoyed going through the "Terrible 2's and 3's" with Charlie any longer than she did. Going through that again with Jamie may have been too much for her. She is probably happier where she is, but we all love her and miss her.

And I especially miss my lap dog.

Bona notti,
Charlie =)

Not sure what to think?

2007-09-07T09:50:00.001-04:00

Well, you're not alone.

Last night, Jena asked me if I was doing a blog. Up until then, I had been keeping it a secret because I didn't want her to to think I was spending a lot of time on it ... which I'm not. But she was OK with it (she was actually very supportive). My wife is the best. She ROCKS.

Apparently, she was tipped off to the presence of said blog by a goof on my part: I had cut-and-paste the URL for this site into an email to an old friend from high school yesterday. The clipboard was never cleared, so it appeared while she was working on her resume last night. Oopsie. But like I said, it's all good with my better half.

There's a lot on my plate right now, so I can't spend too much time on the blog. First and foremost, I need to find a new job. I also have a certification exam to study for. I have more unpacking and organizing to do. And at some point I need to find time to restart my online comic strip, "Brenda Monarch."

This is probably a good opportunity to introduce the two characters from my strip (see above picture):

Brenda Monarch — The title character, she is a reporter for "The Juniperian," the small city newspaper of Juniper Springs. She is single, stands about 5'8" (although my wife disputes this), and has a cat named Snowball. Her dad is a Vietnam veteran. There is a rumor that she may have an estranged twin sister in another state, but this has never been proven. She is from Canandaigua, a town in upstate New York. Because of this, she is also a (*cringe*) Yankees fan. Her biggest pet peeve is seeing other women wear white heels after Labor Day, or black heels after Easter. She usually hangs with her co-worker, Dave Kodiak. When Dave annoys her, she sometimes calls him "Spaceboy." Another of her favorite quips is "Thrillsville." She is proud to be a brunette, and her most distinctive characteristic are her bangs.

Dave Kodiak — He's the sports editor at "The Juniperian." He is also single, and is taller than Brenda (but under 6', and she's taller when she wears heels). He doesn't own a car or have any pets. He has a problem remembering important holidays and birthdays. He was in a fraternity in college, has a penchant for illegal fireworks, and probably has a collection of pornography somewhere. He's from suburban Chicago and loves the Cubs. He doesn't like the designated hitter, or the awarding of home field advantage in the World Series to the league that wins the All-Star Game. He usually wears a T-shirt that says "THEY."

There will be more characters in the comic strip in the future. (As an aside, it amazes me how many characters there are on The Simpsons; it is truly inspiring). I've been drawing Brenda and Dave since 1993, so they are the most developed characters I have so far.

Well, I have a lot of things to do today, so I have to wrap this up here. More riveting content to come later.

Buena nuei,
Charlie =)

Flee To Philly

2007-08-29T15:02:00.000-04:00

So far, 2007 has been a year of big changes for our family. But there is no doubt that the biggest change has been the decision to leave metropolitan Detroit and relocate to the Philadelphia area in early February.

Leaving Michigan was a difficult decision to make. I had been a resident of the Great Lakes State for nearly 12 years, and Jena had lived there for seven (plenty of time to get accustomed to winter driving). We had our courtship there, got engaged there, and got married there. We put down roots in Oakland County - we bought our first house in Royal Oak, joined a great church in Ferndale, and both worked in Pontiac. We had friendly neighbors that we cared about. Both of our boys were born at Beaumont Hospital. Jena had won several state journalism awards. We had travelled all over the state (some of our favorite places were Mackinac Island, Frankenmuth, Silver Lake, Point Aux Barques, and Traverse City). And although we had no family in Michigan, we had made many good friends in the state over the years. It was very hard to leave and start over.

But, the economy in Detroit was terrible in late 2006. I had lost my job in September and was struggling to find another one. In mid-December, a friend passed along the information that a software company in suburban Philadelphia was hiring. A few weeks (and three interviews) later, that company offered me a job at a very generous salary. It was hard to imagine another company in the Detroit area offering me the same amount of money. There was a lot of uncertainty at the time about the future of the economy in Detroit. Ford, GM and Chrysler were all having problems. Even the newspaper where Jena was working was laying off people left and right. Many companies were going out of business. The news was full of stories of people leaving for other cities (although Philadelphia was not usually mentioned as a destination). And the metro Detroit area was leading the nation in foreclosures. We came to the conclusion that although it would be hard to leave Michigan, maybe it was the right move.

In January, we put our Royal Oak house on the market. We then drove out to Philadelphia to look for an apartment. The quest for the perfect apartment there is worthy of a separate blog post, which I will write in the next few days.

Natën e mirë,
Charlie =)

To whomever is out there ... welcome

2007-08-24T02:46:00.001-04:00

Well ... here we are.

Sorry. I'm not exactly sure how to start this thing off. I guess I'm still skeptical about the whole blog-as-entertainment concept. I've been resistant to the idea of getting involved with a blog ever since I first heard of people creating them. I kept thinking, "why would anyone want to spend their time reading some stranger's online blather about things that, frankly, aren't particularly unique, exciting or interesting? Don't people have better things to do with their time? And the people who write these blogs - do they think they're special or something?"

I still harbor these doubts. But within the last two days, I've had two good friends of mine from out of state tell me that I should consider starting a blog to help keep them abreast of what I'm up to. And, of course, what's new with my wife and two boys.

So, I've thrown apprehension to the wind and have started this blog. This is it. "Black Sox Nation," I call it. Why that name? Well, if you know me well enough, you know that I am a fantasy sports nut - especially with baseball. For almost every year that I've had a team, that team has been named the "Kodiak Black Sox." The Kodiak part isn't real important to explain here, and Nation was added to be in the same vein as "Red Sox Nation." If you don't know what THAT means, you need to stop right now and look it up. Shame.

But before we go too far along on this journey together, we need to come to an agreement on some things, to allay these concerns I still have about blogging:

(1) If you're here, and you're spending your time reading this, thank you. I'm very flattered that you are here reading my stories. I know your time is valuable, so I promise to make my stories as unique, exciting, and interesting as the law will allow.

(2) I don't think that I'm special because I have a blog. I'm not doing it to gain popularity or notoriety. I'm not interested in being famous. I don't have any delusions about this thing being published as a best selling novel someday. It's not for that. It's for keeping in touch. It's for sharing. And it's for fun.

(3) When writing this blog stops being fun for me and becomes more of a chore, you can rest assured that I will stop writing it and move on to something else. I'm sure there are some folks who use their old TRS-80s every day because they love that tiny monochromatic screen, and get a real rush from running their fingertips across the black, flat keys designed by the great minds at Radio Shack. Creepy? You bet. But it's someone's idea of fun.

I guess that's it for now. I'll try and write some more tomorrow. There's a lot going on in my life right now - lots of things in transition at the moment. There's a lot to catch you up on, but I'll leave that for future posts. In the meantime, take care.

Maybe we'll learn something about this medium and about each other.

Good night,
Charlie =)