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Plastic Jesus

  • Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes,
    Long as I have my plastic Jesus
    Riding on the dashboard of my car
    Through all trials and tribulations
    We will travel every nation
    With my plastic Jesus I'll go far
    I don't care if it's dark or scary
    Long as I have magnetic Mary
    Ridin' on the dashboard of my car
    I feel I'm protected amply
    I've got the whole damn Holy Family
    Riding on the dashboard of my car
    You can buy a Sweet Madonna
    Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
    Pedestal of abalone shell
    Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
    'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
    Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell
    --Paul Newman (as sung in Cool Hand Luke)

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June 11, 2008

Will Somebody PLEASE Hit Me Upside The Head?

Jesus, I just realized its been two and a half weeks since the last pearls of wisdom dripped from my keyboard onto my blog.  Dont you remaining one and a half faithful readers of my blog realize its YOUR responsibility to remind me to post?  Christ...do I have to do everything myself?

So there I was, earlier today, on my way to pick up the grandaughterettes from daycare, listening to XM radio REALLY LOUD (utilizing the free three month trial subscription which came with my new sweet ride that I'll never stop loving and, yes, I am going to extend my XM subscription after the trial period even though it costs 13 bucks a month and I dont need the damn thing) when I happened to land on the Seattle traffic channel.  They have traffic for about twenty different cities and, I have to admit, sometimes it's fun to tune in and listen to the traffic reports for far off places.  At any rate, the nearly disembodied computer voice thingy was rambling on about a wreck on Hwy 18 over by Peasley Canyon and the slowdown on the floating bridge and the accident in Lynnwood at 156th ST and Hwy 99 southbound when, suddenly, I realize Im in Lynnwood, heading south on Hwy 99 and Im literally about to pull up to the traffic light at 156th ST. 

There I am, cracking my neck from whipping around to see where the damn accident is and I dont see a damn thing.  Nothing.  In fact, not even that much traffic.  I dont know what was going on with the XM traffic report but it certainly didnt fill me with much confidence in their accident spotting abilities because there was absolutely no accident in the vicinity of 156th ST and Hwy 99 today.

Gosh, arent you glad I crawled out of my fog to write that?  I know I am.

March 17, 2008

Stand Up And Cheer

As most of the faithful three may have noted,  recent posts here on the blog of many things have revolved primarily around Barack Hussein Obama and Hillary Rodham Clinton and their battle to be the presidential nominee for their party.  Such eagle eye followers will have also noted a certain...er..disdain that we have for both of them.

Today, however, we're gonna do something different.  We're gonna stand up and cheer for a politician.  Eliott Spitzer is out on his butt as governor of New York and his replacement, David Paterson, was sworn in today.

And, for that, we cheered.  The guy is blind from nearly birth, for Christ's sakes and all you have to do is read how he not only overcame that challenge but is out there doing things that most Americans could only dream about even on their best day and you just want to cheer.

Good on ya, David Paterson!

February 20, 2008

Late Night Musings

Ahhhh...there's nothing like being hunched over the ole computer at nearly the crack of midnight, Nine Inch Nails pounding full blast in the headphones with the election season in full swing.

There are some who might get the impression that since I think Hillary Clinton is the queen of all that totally sucks, I might possibly be for Barack Obama, the little black guy who could.  Well, nothing is further from the truth.  While I take great pleasure in the current Clinton campaign distress, I still chortle mightily whenever I read quotes from the master orator while on the campaign trail.

"In San Antonio, Obama touted his plan to target predatory lenders and give tax credits to homeowners struggling to cover their mortgage. He criticized Clinton's proposal to freeze the monthly rate on existing adjustable rate mortgages.

"It will reward people who made this problem worse but it will also reward people who are wealthy and don't need it," Obama said."

Whuh?  Huh?  Er...check me if Im wrong, Scotty, but dont homeowners ALREADY get a tax break?  I mean, Im not a homeowner at the moment due to a long and storied history of financial stupidity however even I know that mortgage payments are tax deductible.  And, of course, it wouldnt be Obama if there wasnt the obligatory swipe at the wealthy who everyone knows damn well dont need more than a little bit of their money so let's grab it from them and give it to folks who are much more "deserving".  Speaking strictly as someone who is trying his best to "get wealthy", I can hardly wait until I get there so I can find out what good ole Barack has in store for me since, Lord knows, I will NOT have earned my wealth and I certainly wont deserve it either.  Nuh huh.

But that's the way it is over on the other side of the line where we have two supposedly intelligent adults fighting to see who can get to the lowest common denominator first.    So far it's a toss up...both of them have their "super panderman" suits on (yes, I know Im referring to Hillary as a man) and neither will rest until theyve promised the poor and downtrodden everything under the sun, the moon and Pluto too. 

In the meantime, Hillary hopes and prays that no one notices how she's trying to rewrite the rules for the Michigan and Florida delegates even though she firmly agreed back in December to abide by them for the party's sake.  And Barack hopes and prays no one is paying attention to his wife who has suddenly developed a bad case of foot in mouth disease...and he's doubly praying that the furor over his willingness to appropriate others' words for his own gain will soon die down so he can get back to the business of demonizing the rich and sanctifying the poor.

And so we lurch toward the nominating conventions.  By the time we get there, the Democratic winner is going to be handed a prize so covered in mud, filth and crap that they're gonna need an industrial strength hose to wash it off just so they can make sure they're the winning party.

February 17, 2008

Your Attention Please

The following message is for the pride and joy only.  The other two readers of this blog can go ahead and read it since Im writing it in super secret code that only the pride and joy will be able to understand...I just wanted to make sure you knew why there was a bunch of seeming gibberish in this post.

Here is the message:

"To the pride and joy,

Something will be arriving in 2-3 weeks via UPS or FedEx or something like that.  Stop.  Be on the alert.  Stop.  Will send more information as date nears.  Stop.  Giving you early warning so you'll be able to activate the receiving beacon and set all systems to go.  Stop. "

Ok...we now return to your regularly scheduled program.

January 22, 2008

And So Comes The End Of Another Day

Time to hit the proverbial sack,  methinks.  My eyes are bleeding strange goop from staring at a computer screen all day long and Ive got a pretty long day tomorrow.  Before I do, though, let me renew an old Mr. Helpful tradition that occurs on the pride and joy's birthday every year although I might have missed last year since I was inbetween blogs.

Here, then, is The Show:

The Show

At three o'clock in the morning, the air tastes like wet salt; there arent many cars on the road and the traffic lights all blink soft yellow. Time moves slow and easy at this hour but I don't. I can't afford to. I just got off work and I have to get home.

The show is about to begin.

I step inside our apartment...noticing how the door always seems to squeak louder when it is three in the morning and I am trying, like God's proper pupil, to be quiet as a mouse. Lord knows she doesnt deserve to have her sleep intruded on..even by her erstwhile husband who just spent the last ten hours making sure excellence reigned supreme down at good ole Dennys. I smell like grease and taste like bitter coffee and a long hot shower would feel like absolute nirvana but the bliss is going to have to wait....the show is about to begin.

A click and the hall lamp casts light through the corridor and into our impossibly small bedroom where the love of my life slumbers peacefully; oblivious to the audience of one who has just removed his coat and is now slowly tiptoeing his way along the worn floorboards toward the bed. Shhhhh.....got to be quiet now....

She lies on her back... cast in light and shadow...there is enough illumination so I can see but not enough to bring her cruelly back into the world of reality. I kneel before the bed as a supplicant would. I reach out and carefully pull the covers down from her chin so the upper half of her body is exposed. She shifts slightly but remains safely behind the wall of sleep. I softly pull her T shirt up so her stomach is visible in the pale light and I smile. This is the moment I have waited for all night, the anticipation of which constantly brought me excitement and euphoria throughout the evening. My heart leaps with joy.

The show has begun.

My wife has been pregnant for so long I can't remember when she wasnt. She is short and my future son is big and the combination is the cutest thing I have ever seen. As I kneel before my family, I feel as if I am going to burst from all the emotion welling up inside.

They are beautiful.

Her stomach literally rolls from side to side. I nearly laugh out loud as I watch; fascinated. I have no idea why I was so worried about making noise earlier, if she can sleep through this then she can sleep through almost anything.

I place a gentle finger just above her belly button....my son pushes back. I touch her side...my son touches me. We play this game for awhile...cat and mouse...who will strike where next?? Then I rest my head upon her tummy, trying desperately to hear his heart beat. Of course he kicks at me again as he doesnt know the difference between my finger and my ear.

I pull away and watch with overwhelming pride as my son dances on his tiny, cramped stage. As always the show doesnt disappoint...how could it? It is a dance to the music of innocence and glory and if there is anything I can truly believe in then it is this wonderful display of God's miraculous handiwork.

So...at three o'clock in the morning, when even sparrows are dead to the world, my son dances and I sing along..quietly as there is a limit even to my wife's obliviousness. My voice is soft but clear...the words are nonsense but they make perfect sense to me. I sing in praise of my son and all he represents.

And, by God, in the twenty six years since....I havent stopped.

Happy birthday, son.

January 09, 2008

Well, Hey, Look At That

Im back.  Anyone miss me? 

So we were going through our usual routine this morning.   Jessica is usually dressed first because I can kind of throw Emily's clothes at her and, depending on her mood and willingness to cooperate, she can get herself dressed.  Then, after Jessica gets dressed and Ive brushed her hair (singing softly to her, of course, they're the only ones in the world who invite that kind of horrible torture), I send her off in search of her coat and then I turn my attention to Emily who, by this time, hopefully only needs her hair brushed.

So I'm finishing up with Emily, brushing her hair (POPPA!!  SING!!) when I notice Jessica wandering around her bed, still looking for her coat.  I keep brushing and then I hear from over by the bed...

"Where is my frickin coat?  Where is my FRICKIN coat?"

She's just two and a half, folks.  Sigh.

By the way, new song up on the player.  I figure in this, the beginning of the political season, it is more than appropriate to have a song that talks about political issues.  So, courtesy of the Kinks, we have a song that no one's ever heard because the album it comes from totally tanked and I was probably the only one who bought and I love it so sue me.  Enjoy Money And Corruption.

December 27, 2007

A New Song By Mr. Helpful

Ive written a new song and, of course, I'd like to share it with my loyal readers before I make it public and it becomes a runaway smash hit.

So, remember, you saw it here first.

Snowing Like A MoFo

Oh, it's snowing like a mofo
outside my window
snowing like a mofo
the wind's begun to blow
snowing like a mofo
i cant see my car
snowing like a mofo
i wont get far

Oh, its snowing like a mofo
when will it end?
snowing like a mofo
oopss...i just hit send....

October 28, 2007

Over The Weekend

DowntownWell the girls are off to their daddy's for the weekend so I had a little free time on my hands that I needed to fill.

So I volunteered at a soup kitchen went to church rang the salvation army bell down at Walmart headed to eastern Oregon to play some poker.

I lived in eastern Oregon in the early to mid eighties...in fact that's where the pride and joyette was born. I lived in Hermiston and worked in Pendleton and, frankly, both were well on their way to vying for armpit of the world honors. After driving through the area today and landing in Pendleton this afternoon, Im sad to say nothing much has changed - hell, they might even be worse.

No matter...my goal was to head out to the Wildhorse Casino and Resort, ten miles east of Pendleton at the base of the Blue Mountains which, much to no one's surprise, aren't really very blue. They have an annual spring poker tournament at the Wildhorse and from what Ive read it's a pretty big shindig. So I figured this was a great excuse for a non-overwhelming roadtrip so I could check out the casino and see if it met my high standards (cough, cough).

Plus, Ive been on something of a winning streak in the game of life over the past couple of months so I thought I would see if it would transfer over to the ole poker game. I'm sad to say it didnt. I dropped some coin in the poker room and then, because hope springs eternal and you cant win if you dont put your cash on the table, I went out to the craps table and promptly dropped some more coin.

Oh well, it wasnt rent money and Ive developed a pretty good sense of discipline so the damage wasnt too severe. Still, I firmly believe in the concept that up is good and down is not so I had a tiny bit of trepidation haunting my heart as I wandered out into the parking lot so I could head back to my hotel. On the way, I pulled off the freeway and stopped at a Circle K convenience store to grab a bottle of Diet Coke.

The guy behind the counter was prolly in his mid twenties and he had a buddy standing nearby keeping him company on a cold Saturday night. Here's how the conversation went:

Counter Guy: Is that diet Coke everything?

Me: yeah, thanks

Buddy: Hey, you should eat some Mentos with that diet Coke...they really taste good together.

Me (giving him the thousand yard stare): nice try dude...Ive seen the video

Counter Guy: giggle

Buddy: no, seriously, you should try it. it really tastes good together

Me: I want to keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach

Counter Guy: giggle

Buddy: just give it a try

Me: Guys, what the hell, do I look like I just drove off the freeway? Jesus....

Counter Guy and Buddy: Guffaw Guffaw Guffaw

Me: You guys have a great night.

And now you know all you need to know about what it's like in Pendleton, Oregon on a Saturday night.

July 14, 2007

The G And G (Grandpa And Granddaughters) World Tour

Well, it isnt so much a world tour as simply a daily trip to daycare however, along the way, we perform a concert. Like Roger Waters, we split our concert into two halves. His intermission is only twenty minutes...ours is approximately seven hours.

The first half, performed on the way to daycare, consists of repeatedly singing the following song:

We're On Our Way To School

Me: Oh, we're on our way to...
The Girls: SCHOOL!

Me: Cause we be aint no....
The Girls: FOOL!

Me: And Emmy and Jessie are....
The Girls: COOL

Me: And...
The Girls: WE"RE GONNA SEE POPPA TONIGHT!!

Here is the set list for the second half of the show; performed on the way home from daycare:

Various renditions of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"

Intermixed with

Various renditions of "A-B-C..."

And, for our encore, we sing our world famous smash hit

"If You Dont Give Me Candy, Im Gonna Cry"

July 11, 2007

Passport To Latin America With Samantha Brown

Has any of the three people who still read my blog ever watched Samantha Brown on the Travel Channel? She hosts a series of shows that take you to exotic places all over the world that you would likely never go on your own. Samantha is a late thirties type of gal who's fairly easy on the eyes and doesn't seem to take herself too seriously. She is, however, hmmm, how shall I put this? Hmmm...well....I guess you could say she's a total ditz. Complete with a goofy laugh. Now that I've made her cry, let's move on to the subject of this post. Because I am all about being...er...helpful, Ive taken the liberty to transcribe part of her show tonight entitled Passport To Latin America with Samantha Brown. So sit back and experience the joys of Latin America via the Animal Notes transcription service:

S: Hi, I'm here in Couzco, Peru with my guide, Hector Robles Juan de la Jesus. Peru is the ninth largest country in the north part of the southern hemisphere and boasts a whorehouse the size of Yankee stadium. Folks here wear hats all day long. The type of hat denotes if you're single and available or married but looking. Those who are single and available wear hats that have a giant hole in the top. Those who are married but looking wear hats that have firecrackers stuck in the brim that go off that the weirdest times. There are reports of Peruvians having parts of their ears blown off by these firecrackers - when that happens they no longer have to wear the hats because then their deformed ears signal their availablity. Everyone else in Peru who doesn't fit in one of those two categories wear Fedoras in tribute to Marlon Brando who threw up in a field here back in the 1950s. So, Hector is going to show us some of the sights and sounds of Couzco.

H: Yes, senora. First we will look at the giant wall of coconuts.

S: You have coconuts in Peru?

H: No, we have to fly them in. Here is the wall. Please do not touch the coconuts. They are very dangerous.

S: How can coconuts be dangerous?

H: We use the venom of cobras to glue them together.

S: Moving on, quickly, is this a quaint blanket making weaver?

H: Yes. These are the women of the village who come from hundreds of miles to work on this weave. Notice how their hands are gnarled and bent? All the strands are woven by hand.

S: Are those nails driven into their fingers?

H: Yes. Otherwise the women of the village would not be able to weave the strands for the quilts.

S: Its so wonderful to see the traditions of the village in action. Are these weavers in danger of being driven out of business by the capitalists of the Unidos De America.

H: (nodding sadly): Yes. But then we were saved by Al Gore.

S: (swoon). Al Gore. You must worship the ground he walks on.

H: Yes. Here is the shrine we built for him after he went back home.

S: Oh my gosh, look at the size of that thing. It looks like a humungous llama. What are those bags hanging from the body? There must be hundreds of them!

H: They are nutsacs. Our artists spent many of the hours crafting them to match the exact dimensions of the Al Gore nutsac.

S: Oh my gosh, they're so tiny.

H: Yes. Our sculptors were very proud of the work theyve done. At night, in the village taverns, they drink warm beer and tell the tales of making the Al Gore nutsacs. Sometimes they even get into fights when someone claims to have actually touched the Al Gore nutsac.

S: You know, you just cant find something like this back in the Unidos De America. Except maybe at the Al Gore house.

H: Do they have a shrine there too?

S: Im sure they do.

H: Al Gore is a blessed saint. Every day, we bang the gong for the Al Gore and the women fall to their knee weeping and the men squeeze their nutsacs.

To be continued....

Breaking Glass