You can have American Idol and Dancing With The Stars.
I'll take the Japanese any day.
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Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
24 Remake
If 24 was created in the 1990's....
Only the Techno-Dweebs, Fans of 24 would appreciate this one.
You know who you are. Remember the pain...
Only the Techno-Dweebs, Fans of 24 would appreciate this one.
You know who you are. Remember the pain...
Sunday, November 11, 2007
My First Kiss and The Catholic Church
Do You Want To Know A Secret?
I grew up in Philadelphia. North Philadelphia. It was the riots of the 60's and the drug use that scared my dad into moving to the suburbs. But it was in Philly on Lawrence St. that I got my first kiss. Actually, it was next door at the Martinez home and it was much more than a kiss.
Betsy, her younger sister Anna, and her younger brother Cookie, lived next door with their much absent mother and almost nonexistent father. I remember my brother and I are spending a lot of time at their house watching Saturday morning cartoons, especially the Beatles cartoons. The year was 1965. I was eight years old and Betsy was probably a very streetwise, precocious nine. She used to mesmerize my brother and I with these wild stories about life in a Catholic school.
There are two stories that stand out and they both involve punishment. Betsy told us that when you disobeyed the nuns, they would take you to the bathroom, kneel you down in front of the toilet, push your head in it and flushed it a few times. That was if you were bad. If you were really bad the second form of punishment involved disrobing. Betsy said the nuns would make you take all your clothes off and stand in front of the classroom naked while everyone laughed at you. Oh, it was true! Betsy had been made to do this a few times. My brother and I would look at each other, mouths wide open and be very thankful that we went to public school. These stories, along with a very scary experience with a nun, would for years instill in me a deathly fear of the Catholic Church.
One evening when I was seven years old there was a knock at our front door. I believe we were expecting company. It was night time. I went to answer the door. Not recognizing the dark figure in front of our door, I hesitated. Well, the figure pressed her faced on the glass portion of our door and smiled. Normally this would have been no problem. It was just a nun in her black habit. But that's not what I saw. I saw the devil in the flesh smiling at me. I turned and did Scooby Doo-run-in-place move and ran screaming through the house. I still tremble when I see a nun. But I digress. Back to Betsy.
Like I said, she was a streetwise, very mature (how mature can you be at nine years old?) girl. One of the popular songs on the radio at the time was the Beatles "Do You Want To Know A Secret?". Well, Betsy used to entertain us by lip-syncing the song (this was before karaoke) all the while bumping and grinding like a well-trained burlesque dancer. This would lead the four of us to sneak into her house and played "married". This was no problem since no one was ever home. I'll spare you the details of our escapades but it was much more than a first kiss and I would spend the subsequent five or six years asking God to forgive me for my juvenile indiscretions.
Those "married" games ended when my brother decided to show the entire neighborhood he was a man (at 7 years old) by standing buck naked in front of Betsy's bedroom window. My parents were not impressed. We moved the following February to the suburbs. In the coming years anytime my brother wanted to get back at me, he would start humming the beginning of "Do You Want To Know A Secret?". Betsy and all the guilt associated with that time would come rushing back. "Shut up Dave! That's not funny..."
U's advice: always know where your young children are at all times.
Now, for those of you too young to remember, I give you the Beatles.
I grew up in Philadelphia. North Philadelphia. It was the riots of the 60's and the drug use that scared my dad into moving to the suburbs. But it was in Philly on Lawrence St. that I got my first kiss. Actually, it was next door at the Martinez home and it was much more than a kiss.
Betsy, her younger sister Anna, and her younger brother Cookie, lived next door with their much absent mother and almost nonexistent father. I remember my brother and I are spending a lot of time at their house watching Saturday morning cartoons, especially the Beatles cartoons. The year was 1965. I was eight years old and Betsy was probably a very streetwise, precocious nine. She used to mesmerize my brother and I with these wild stories about life in a Catholic school.
There are two stories that stand out and they both involve punishment. Betsy told us that when you disobeyed the nuns, they would take you to the bathroom, kneel you down in front of the toilet, push your head in it and flushed it a few times. That was if you were bad. If you were really bad the second form of punishment involved disrobing. Betsy said the nuns would make you take all your clothes off and stand in front of the classroom naked while everyone laughed at you. Oh, it was true! Betsy had been made to do this a few times. My brother and I would look at each other, mouths wide open and be very thankful that we went to public school. These stories, along with a very scary experience with a nun, would for years instill in me a deathly fear of the Catholic Church.
One evening when I was seven years old there was a knock at our front door. I believe we were expecting company. It was night time. I went to answer the door. Not recognizing the dark figure in front of our door, I hesitated. Well, the figure pressed her faced on the glass portion of our door and smiled. Normally this would have been no problem. It was just a nun in her black habit. But that's not what I saw. I saw the devil in the flesh smiling at me. I turned and did Scooby Doo-run-in-place move and ran screaming through the house. I still tremble when I see a nun. But I digress. Back to Betsy.
Like I said, she was a streetwise, very mature (how mature can you be at nine years old?) girl. One of the popular songs on the radio at the time was the Beatles "Do You Want To Know A Secret?". Well, Betsy used to entertain us by lip-syncing the song (this was before karaoke) all the while bumping and grinding like a well-trained burlesque dancer. This would lead the four of us to sneak into her house and played "married". This was no problem since no one was ever home. I'll spare you the details of our escapades but it was much more than a first kiss and I would spend the subsequent five or six years asking God to forgive me for my juvenile indiscretions.
Those "married" games ended when my brother decided to show the entire neighborhood he was a man (at 7 years old) by standing buck naked in front of Betsy's bedroom window. My parents were not impressed. We moved the following February to the suburbs. In the coming years anytime my brother wanted to get back at me, he would start humming the beginning of "Do You Want To Know A Secret?". Betsy and all the guilt associated with that time would come rushing back. "Shut up Dave! That's not funny..."
U's advice: always know where your young children are at all times.
Now, for those of you too young to remember, I give you the Beatles.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Movement
This is from last season and I just about fell off my chair watching it.
Dedicated to my son who introduced me to the phrase "dropping the kids off at the pool". See. You can learn things from your children.
Dedicated to my son who introduced me to the phrase "dropping the kids off at the pool". See. You can learn things from your children.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
New Rules
I was cleaning out my old email and came across this. It was sent to me by a good friend who will remain anonymous. Enjoy.
---------------------------------------------------
New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes, graduations, and releases from jail. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket - water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop messing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the a**hole you are. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge a**hole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your webcam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese.
---------------------------------------------------
New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes, graduations, and releases from jail. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket - water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop messing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the a**hole you are. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge a**hole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your webcam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Windows Vista
Even though I think we eventually will be using it, it'll be a while before we upgrade the school to Vista. At least 2 years.
This is funny but it's true too.
This is funny but it's true too.
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