Are you serious?

  I normally don’t use my blog as a soapbox to weigh in on national issues, or things in the news. I haven’t come on here and complained about BP ruining the environment, or governments of the world ignoring genocides in Sudan. I haven’t written about how little I care that Lindsay Lohan went to jail or that Britney Spears likes to flash her junk all around town. But this story…
  This Steven Slater asshole, the flight attendant who quit his job so dramatically that it made national headlines, is something I just can’t ignore. Now, I’ve already heard that he’s being supported on Facebook by people who think he’s really cool for doing what he did. Then I read this morning that he’s being touted as a ‘folk hero.’ But the final straw came with the headline: “Is Steven Slater the new ‘Sully?’”
  You have to be kidding me. The very concept of that so enrages me that I want to kick somebody in the teeth. Captain Sully had to ditch a commercial airliner in a river after his engines were destroyed by birdstrikes. That man kept his cool, and saved the lives of everybody on board. How is this candy-ass, tantrum throwing flight attendant IN ANY WAY comparable to a man like that?

  He’s not.

  Why our society has taken to making heroes out of idiots is beyond my comprehension. Folks, all this guy did was lose his mind, go on an expletive-laden rant over the intercom of the plane, and then purposefully caused as much mayhem as he could. He knew exactly what he was doing. There is nothing ‘heroic’ about any of this pathetic behavior. It’s childish, vulgar, and not an example to anybody.
  Having worked in retail before, I can tell you that dealing with the public is no picnic. People are prone to say the most horrific things, right to your face, and treat you like you’re the most worthless piece of garbage they’ve ever seen. It comes with the job. If you can’t take the abuse, then you need to find a new job. Get over yourself.
  If you want to talk about the heroes of jobs that deal with the public, talk to me about the waitresses, salespeople and cashiers who put up with bullshit every day, but take it, earn their pay, and then go home and forget about it. There is certainly no excuse for people to be rude to you on the job, and you have every right to be angry when it happens, but you can be the bigger person. Suck it up, do your job, and kill them with kindness. Remember what a terrible example those people set, and be nicer when you’re on the other side of that counter, or sitting at that table in the restaurant.
  You wanna worship heroes, worship somebody worth a damn. Thank the people that make your day easier, or thank the people that cure sickness, or protect your freedoms or your property. The rest is just nonsense.

  That’s my piece.

Two from the kid

  I'm in packing-fury mode this weekend, but I had to stop and post these, because they made me laugh out loud.
  Right about the time I entered the second grade, I decided I wanted to write books. Mostly it was just an excuse to do a lot of drawings, and put them into some kind of narrative. You couldn't stop me from drawing when I was a kid. So, naturally, I made a lot of books. I would take a few sheets of paper, fold them over, staple the edge, and start hacking away. The first thing to make, of course, was the cover.
  It had to be catchy, right? Grab the potential reader's eye? You bet. Well, I found a bunch of my covers today, and I wanted to share two that I thought were particularly brilliant in my eight-year-old mind.
  The first is my masterpiece, "haunted houses ghosts and skeloton bones plus + pirates." How could you not want to read that? So much scary in one book, PLUS it has pirates! Awesome! It's so scary that I misspelled "skeleton" and added the plus symbol after the word "plus" to really hammer it home.


  Included at the bottom was an illustration of what you might find inside. A ghost, in typical ghost fashion, is exclaiming "Oooooo!" and there is some sort of Jacob's Ladder atop the titular haunted house. It's coursing with electricity and the sound effect "zzzzz!" lets you know it means business. Below the house, what I can only explain as a horribly disfigured cat is adding his two cents with a giant "raaar!" because that's what horribly disfigured cats say.

  Next up is my epic tome "ghosts and other spokey things." I figured that I'd stick with the horror theme, as it had helped me to become a bestselling author.


  I must admit, I don't remember what I considered "spokey" back in the second grade. Bicycle wheels, perhaps. Women from Spokane, maybe. It's best to not delve too deeply into the creative mind. It is what it is. I will tell you this, though; judging by the copyright AND registered trademark symbols after the title, I was serious and career minded, and I'd be damned if anybody was going to steal my ideas. Incidentally, that character who made the cover is Lon Chaney's Wolfman. He's not a ghost, but I suppose he still qualifies as spokey.

The Countdown Begins

  Exactly one month from today, I'll be boarding my plane to London. This has been such a long battle, and yet, here we are, already at the end. I gave the landlord my last rent check this weekend. I've officially started packing. Loans are in the final stages, my entry visa has been paid for, and I'll have a flat (hopefully) arranged by the end of the week.
  Every time you move, you get rid of things, but this is the biggest cast-off I've ever experienced. I have literally thrown away a few industrial size trash barrels full of stuff. This week, I'll be pricing out all my furniture and Craigslisting it. This is probably as close as I'll ever come to torching everything I own, including my career, and walking away. It can't be overstated what a huge move this is for me. Every single fiber of my being is telling me, though, that I'm on the right track. I've learned to trust life in the last few years, and recognize when doors are opened for me.
  31 more days.

Truth.

Click for the biggering. Seen 'round the net, and heartily laughed at by me.

Cornea Game Hen

  I have a fantastic new recipe to share with you. It's a little something I cooked up last night, and I've been enjoying it every minute since.

INGREDIENTS:

One of your eyes (preferably the one with the best vision)
Four tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 cups diced chicken

PREPARATION:

1. Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat.
2. Go check your laundry while the oil heats.
3. Become distracted and forget about the hot stove.
4. Smell the oil cooking and return to the stove.
5. Scoop the diced chicken into the saucepan.
6. Hold still as the superheated oil pops from contact with chicken, and launches into your eye.
7. Note the searing, white-hot pain as your cornea is instantly cooked.
8. Attempt to open your eye to check your vision. Nerve reflex will keep it shut. While you're waiting for it to reopen, ponder the fact that you might have permanent eye damage.
9. Reflect on your stupidity. Repeat.
10. Let rest overnight.

  The next day, your eye might be a little sore, and your vision somewhat cloudy. This is normal. Enjoy!

Heatwave

  Anyone who's spent any time in this part of the country in the summer knows the oppressive heat here is nothing to be trifled with. This summer is, according to our local news, going to be a record breaking one.
  Today's heat index is 110 degrees. The actual heat is 101, and you can't really discern a few degrees once it gets up into that range. The humidity here is consistently high, and it makes the air very heavy. When you step outside, you can literally feel the air around you. Showering is completely worthless, and there are actually warnings on TV for people to just stay indoors.
  I got up this morning long before dawn, and it was already 80 degrees. at 5:30, I drove down to the Arlington area to get some pictures of the Marine Corps War Memorial at sunup, and I was sweating pretty good just from walking around. As I was leaving, right around 6:30, a group of about 30 military folk were just showing up for morning PT. I watched them do a couple dozen push-ups, and then their instructor began to discuss the course their ten mile run would take. I started to sweat even more at the thought.
  Most of the rest of the day, I've mercifully been indoors, packing. This afternoon, at the hottest part of the day, I went to take some trash outside, and scared off the squirrel who lives in my front yard. I wondered what he was doing so close to my front door, and then later, when he came back, I realized.
  He was sprawled out on my concrete stoop, in the shade, trying to cool his belly. There was no escaping the heat anywhere, and that slightly cool concrete was the only relief he had. I felt so bad for him that I got a bunch of ice from the freezer and poured it on the front stoop. I don't know if he got to eat any of it or lay in it, because by the time I checked back, of course, it was all melted and dried up.
  I did manage to get a few pics of him, in various poses, trying to stay cool. I would have asked him inside, but, you know, rabies.

Brainscan

  A few hours after being stuffed into the old MRI machine again today*, I was able to get a report on the results. As I've said before, I'm fascinated by the inner workings of the body, and this was a rare opportunity to see inside my own mind. Here's the actual scan of my brain** and some very interesting findings on what's going on in there currently.

*Not true, for the purposes of comedy only.
**Not my actual brain.

(click to embiggen)