Spent last week in Richmond, Va. visiting family and attending the annual Baptist Communicators Association conference. I missed out on it last year when it was held in Denver, but entered some stories and was actually part of the haul of honors brought in by the Index. I was given a "Finalist" honor for my story last year about Christians in public schools. Basically it was like a second-runner up placement. Yes, more than three people entered my category ... I think.
It was a great time up there and I got to meet a lot of cool people in my profession. I'm looking forward to my involvement in BCA for a long time. For a couple of days prior to the conference, thought, myself and the family hung out with my cousin and her family. Usually when we see them, it's when they're passing through on the way to Florida or something, but with BCA taking place literally down the road from their house, I thought I'd take a vacation day or two and visit with them. Amy, Rylee and myself went to Colonial Williamsburg for a day (pretty authentic, right down to the horse poo in the middle of the street) and checked out a little of downtown Richmond. Got turned around a little due to road construction, but got to drive on the cobblestone streets there, if only by accident.
Drove there in two days, but had to get back in one. Ugh. How's 12 hours sound to ya? With a three-year-old, we had to extend our breaks a little. Poor kid. Back in the day you could stretch out on the back dash and get a nap, but no more. Get back in the double-strap restraint seat.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Preaching NASCAR style
I went out to Calvary Baptist Church in Rome last month to write about something that I've heard other churches have done -- a series relating to NASCAR.
This was something I wouldn't have associated together -- church and racing. Growing up my family joined in with a few others and we all went to the infield at Talladega twice during the summer. A young boy could get quite and education if he kept his eyes open in the infield during those days. I've heard they've cleaned things up quite a bit since going corporate.
The principles taught over the six-week series mesh together. I was a little disappointed in my photography on this story; it's something I'm working on. It's not often that I go out to cover a story and take the pictures. Steve, the pastor, said they were hoping to have a car out front the Sunday I was there (they did for a prior message) but it didn't pan out.
This was something I wouldn't have associated together -- church and racing. Growing up my family joined in with a few others and we all went to the infield at Talladega twice during the summer. A young boy could get quite and education if he kept his eyes open in the infield during those days. I've heard they've cleaned things up quite a bit since going corporate.
The principles taught over the six-week series mesh together. I was a little disappointed in my photography on this story; it's something I'm working on. It's not often that I go out to cover a story and take the pictures. Steve, the pastor, said they were hoping to have a car out front the Sunday I was there (they did for a prior message) but it didn't pan out.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Armstrong Atlantic BSU member finds cash in wall
This is one of those quandries that come with being a bi-wwekly. It was actually possible to get this story in when it broke this past week. However, our next issue isn't until the 30th. By then a story saying "Hey, did you hear about this student who found a wad of cash in a wall in New Orleans?" would be met with "Yeah, I did, a week ago."
I talked with Marty Youngblood, the campus minister at Armstrong Atlantic State University in Savannah, Thursday. Obviously, I need to find a way to cover it that hasn't been done yet, or at least hasn't been overdone. Marty said it's been pretty much nonstop and if the anonymous homeowner decides to come forward that could start the cycle up again. The school's Web site has a video of Trista, though I was unable to open it and have to figure out what the deal is with my media player.
I talked with Marty Youngblood, the campus minister at Armstrong Atlantic State University in Savannah, Thursday. Obviously, I need to find a way to cover it that hasn't been done yet, or at least hasn't been overdone. Marty said it's been pretty much nonstop and if the anonymous homeowner decides to come forward that could start the cycle up again. The school's Web site has a video of Trista, though I was unable to open it and have to figure out what the deal is with my media player.
No, they don't live in a shoe ...
When I first heard about Andy Hammack and family last fall, it was through the regular column by GBC Executive Director J. Robert White. I only had the copy of the article first and hadn't seen a picture, so when I learned they had 10 kids, I assumed there were some twins or even triplets in there to help things get to that number, but no there weren't.
Something I can't believe I left out of the article is that neither Andy nor his wife, Elizabeth, come from big families. I want to say (from memory) that both of them had one sibling. Writing it up, I kept coming back to sports analogies. When I would play baseball with my brother and our neighbor growing up, we'd always use "ghost man" to fill in for us. In other words, one guy would bat, another pitch, and another field. If you hit a double, you called ghost man to run from second while you went to bat again. Rule was, though, that he could only advance as many bases as you got on the next hit, so for Casper to score from second you had to hit another double. Worked fairly well, actually.
Getting the lead on this one, I wanted the reader to get a feeling of being overrun. That's why I listed their typical order for McDonald's. Didn't make that up. Andy told me matter-of-factly. For a crew their size, I expected him and Elizabeth to sound a little more tired than they did. On the contrary, both had good senses of humor. I mentioned that today to get any kind of recognition for a high number of kids, they have to be born all at once following a merry-go-round of fertility drugs. If memory serves, the number to beat is eight. I don't even know what you'd call nine kids at once. Nintuplets?
That assumption I'm sure came from me taking everything about my three-year-old and multiplying it by 11. When she was an infant, it seemed I had more bags of weight on my back than Juan Valdez's pack mule just for us to go somewhere. The amount of plastic little possessed toys (see previous post) must be mind-boggling.
Both Andy and Elizabeth were quick to give a lot of credit to their older kids, particularly Nathan, Bethany, Mary and Sarah. I talked to Nathan and Bethany and they both seemed like good kids. I mentioned how Bethany and the older girls have taken to sewing which helps out with costs. It's not like they're made to though, it's just something they like to do, and have a knack for. Nathan likes baseball and is an Andruw Jones fan, a tidbit I wasn't able to fit into the story. For sure, they both are miles ahead of where I was in maturity and responsibilty at their ages.
Something else I picked up from writing this was the importance of perspective. To a lot of kids who get everything, they would cringe at the idea of having to share so much. A lot of parents, including myself, would initially think of things such as buying birthday/Christmas presents and how in the world to pay for everything rather than feel blessed with 11 beautiful kids. This family truly makes it with a team effort and closeness others on the outside wish they could have.
That being said, I still think I could only handle two, maybe three.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Yesterday was easily one of the worst days of my life.
At around 9:30 in the morning, I hear my phone ringing at work and on the caller ID notice it's my wife's cell number. She had gone to see the doctor that morning for a 12-week checkup on our baby due in October.
Whenever I see it's her number I don't go through the formal "Christian Index, this is Scott" biz. A simple "hey" or "How ya doin'" is fine. This time I picked up and asked, "How did it go?", referring to the appointment.
After a moment of silence, she softly said through her tears, "It's not good."
A moment later she told me that the doctors couldn't find a heartbeat. She had miscarried the baby. It's cliche, but this is one of those things that happens to everyone else. Not you. I instantly started crying, said a few more things before letting her know I was on my way. Hung up. Cried some more. Told my co-worker, Kelly, what had happened. Got my stuff. Asked her to tell everyone to be praying for us, and walked out the door. In the parking lot I broke into a run toward my car. I had to get to Amy.
On the way home I turned the radio off and sat in silence. Crying came and went. They were those cries where you hit the dashboard and don't know snot is coming out of your nose until it reaches your lip. She had to stay at the hospital a while longer, so I actually beat her to the house. When she got there I went to her and we hugged each other, cried and apologized. For what, we didn't know, but that was about all either of us could think to say.
The rest of the day was long and a blur at the same time. Phone calls to our families. I called a guy in our church small group, Gregg, who let me know he and his wife, Lynn, had gone through the same thing. Even though he was at work as a middle school guidance counselor, he prayed with me over the phone. Amy had to drive back to the hospital to schedule a D&C to remove the baby, so I went to our daughter's school to pick her up. While there, I learned from her teacher how she had gone through a miscarriage and underwent the same procedure Amy was scheduling at that moment.
Getting home, I gave Rylee and her friend, Reese, their lunch and put them down for a nap. First though, I explained to Rylee as best I could what happened. We didn't want our families to get there (they were on their way) and Rylee be confused as to why they were sad and start asking questions. I felt clumsy telling her (Amy did a much better job when she got home). I explained that the baby went to heaven. She asked why. I said something was wrong with it and God took it to heaven, but mommy will have another baby soon. Other stuff was said, but that was the main part. I held it together okay until Rylee started to tear up and say that she wanted the baby (calling it "her" baby) that mommy already had. She had already been excited about being a big sister.
My folks and younger brother arrived. Hung around. To try and just do something, my dad, brother and I go outside to work on my Jeep. That night we all went out to eat.
A storm of emotions have gone through me. I've realized that I experience a concoction of feelings whenever I hear Amy or, when it's not just a 3-year-old's temper, Rylee cry. First comes guilt, because if they are sad I didn't protect them. Anger follows because whatever caused this must pay. Also mixed in there is sadness due to the fact that they are unhappy and a try-and-fix-it mentality that often does more harm than good. There's some kind of papa bear mentality in me that stirs whenever my daughter or wife are hurt, be it emotionally or physically.
We understand the basic rationale for miscarriages. Something was wrong and it's the body's natural way to end the pregnancy. Doesn't make it any easier. Through all of this, though, we both know Jesus grieves with us and holds our future in his hands. God has loved us through the many people who have called and told their own stories of losing a baby. Friends have told us to let them know if there's anything, anything they can do. People just say that, but I know these folks are really there.
It's a rough time. Right now the emotions are still raw. It's hard to believe getting past it, but I know we will.
At around 9:30 in the morning, I hear my phone ringing at work and on the caller ID notice it's my wife's cell number. She had gone to see the doctor that morning for a 12-week checkup on our baby due in October.
Whenever I see it's her number I don't go through the formal "Christian Index, this is Scott" biz. A simple "hey" or "How ya doin'" is fine. This time I picked up and asked, "How did it go?", referring to the appointment.
After a moment of silence, she softly said through her tears, "It's not good."
A moment later she told me that the doctors couldn't find a heartbeat. She had miscarried the baby. It's cliche, but this is one of those things that happens to everyone else. Not you. I instantly started crying, said a few more things before letting her know I was on my way. Hung up. Cried some more. Told my co-worker, Kelly, what had happened. Got my stuff. Asked her to tell everyone to be praying for us, and walked out the door. In the parking lot I broke into a run toward my car. I had to get to Amy.
On the way home I turned the radio off and sat in silence. Crying came and went. They were those cries where you hit the dashboard and don't know snot is coming out of your nose until it reaches your lip. She had to stay at the hospital a while longer, so I actually beat her to the house. When she got there I went to her and we hugged each other, cried and apologized. For what, we didn't know, but that was about all either of us could think to say.
The rest of the day was long and a blur at the same time. Phone calls to our families. I called a guy in our church small group, Gregg, who let me know he and his wife, Lynn, had gone through the same thing. Even though he was at work as a middle school guidance counselor, he prayed with me over the phone. Amy had to drive back to the hospital to schedule a D&C to remove the baby, so I went to our daughter's school to pick her up. While there, I learned from her teacher how she had gone through a miscarriage and underwent the same procedure Amy was scheduling at that moment.
Getting home, I gave Rylee and her friend, Reese, their lunch and put them down for a nap. First though, I explained to Rylee as best I could what happened. We didn't want our families to get there (they were on their way) and Rylee be confused as to why they were sad and start asking questions. I felt clumsy telling her (Amy did a much better job when she got home). I explained that the baby went to heaven. She asked why. I said something was wrong with it and God took it to heaven, but mommy will have another baby soon. Other stuff was said, but that was the main part. I held it together okay until Rylee started to tear up and say that she wanted the baby (calling it "her" baby) that mommy already had. She had already been excited about being a big sister.
My folks and younger brother arrived. Hung around. To try and just do something, my dad, brother and I go outside to work on my Jeep. That night we all went out to eat.
A storm of emotions have gone through me. I've realized that I experience a concoction of feelings whenever I hear Amy or, when it's not just a 3-year-old's temper, Rylee cry. First comes guilt, because if they are sad I didn't protect them. Anger follows because whatever caused this must pay. Also mixed in there is sadness due to the fact that they are unhappy and a try-and-fix-it mentality that often does more harm than good. There's some kind of papa bear mentality in me that stirs whenever my daughter or wife are hurt, be it emotionally or physically.
We understand the basic rationale for miscarriages. Something was wrong and it's the body's natural way to end the pregnancy. Doesn't make it any easier. Through all of this, though, we both know Jesus grieves with us and holds our future in his hands. God has loved us through the many people who have called and told their own stories of losing a baby. Friends have told us to let them know if there's anything, anything they can do. People just say that, but I know these folks are really there.
It's a rough time. Right now the emotions are still raw. It's hard to believe getting past it, but I know we will.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
An article that didn't make it
Awhile back the Index was sent some DVDs for a prospective review to be put in the paper. Rylee and I watched two of the movies made for kids and came up with the following story, written from her perspective. The review in this form will never see the light of day in print. I guess that's what blogs are for.
Recently, new DVDs sent to Index production editor Scott Barkley were viewed by himself and his three-year-old daughter, Rylee. Both watched the DVDs, produced by Wacky World Studios (wackyworld.tv), with Rylee reporting what she observed.
The first video, Don’t Miss the Boat, was told from the perspective of two grandparent roaches retelling the time they spend their honeymoon on Noah’s ark. The second video, Slingshot Slugger, related the story of David and Goliath and teaches kids how no matter your size God is bigger than any obstacle.
Numbers represent the minute mark of the video.
New Roach Approach movies teach kids about faith
By Rylee Grace Barkley
Both of the movies daddy and I watched were about cartoon roaches that do these funny things and have adventures. During the movie they also talk about God. A man named Bruce Barry made them. There's one part on the DVDs where he teaches kids they can draw bugs, flowers and faces if they can just start by writing the number 2 or things that easy. That was one of my favoritest parts.
The first movie we watched was called Don't Miss the Boat! It was about 38 minutes long. In it a little boy cockroach named Squiggz is told by his granny and paw paw about the time they were on Noah's ark.
:02 Daddy says the cockroaches look a lot like the little aliens in Space Jam.
:14 The granny and paw paw – their names are Nana and Lou – have talked about how they had just gotten married and now were on the big boat a man named Noah made. People laughed at him for making the big boat – daddy says it's called an ark. Anyway, this thing just ate up Lou and then spit him out. Daddy says the thing is called an aardvark. It's funny-looking. I ask why it spit out the bug and daddy said 'cause God didn't want it to eat him.
:15 Daddy says," Movie line alert" when Noah is worried about the animals not coming to the ark and God says, "If you build it, they will come."
:21 The funny-looking-elephant-aardvark-thingy thought a plug in the bottom of the boat was a doughnut and tried to eat it! They have to put it back in! Okay, they do.
:23 Daddy, where's the mommy and daddy?
I don't know.
Is that the big boat?
Yes.
That Noah built?
Yes.
Where are the animals?
Inside.
Where inside?
Just inside. Now watch.
:25 There's this little bug who was a bug at the start but now she's not a bug she's in this brown thing hanging from the ceiling of the ark I think she's going to come out a butterfly.
:31 I got it right! She was a butterfly. She had helped the two cockroaches. Even though all the animals got scared and tired being on the boat God took care of them.
:38 I liked this movie. Noah listened to God even when people made fun of him. Daddy said that sometimes we have to do the right thing and listen to what God tells us, even if that means some people laugh at us. There were some times on the boat when they were in trouble and it looked like the boat was going to sink, but daddy said God was in control and took care of everybody.
The second movie we saw was called Sling Shot Slugger and was more about Squiggz. Lou, his paw paw, is in this one too. Daddy said this one was going to be about David and Goliath. David was a little boy and Goliath a great big giant.
:03 Squiggz is skateboarding around. My uncle Taylor does that. Taylor is better at it than Squiggz.
:08 A big, dirty 'sterminator with a big belly is coming to get Squiggz, his friends, and even his grandpa, who is trying to fish in a crab tank. Daddy and I go fishing, but not for crab.
:09 The 'sterminator says "Hammer time" and starts to dance around pretending to crush bugs with a hammer. Daddy thinks I can't hear him but he starts to sing really softly: My music hits me so hard, makes me say "Oh my Lord," Thank you for blessing me, with a mind to rhyme and two hype feet, it feels good when you know you're down, a super dope homeboy from the Oaktown, and I'm known as such, and this is a beat, uh, you can't touch ...
:14 Now Paw Paw Lou — in the movie I think he's called grandpa, but I like paw paw — is telling Squiggz about David and Goliath. That's because Squiggz is scared of the big 'sterminator. Lou is telling how Goliath was a lot bigger than David. David's favorite sheep – he was a shepherd, and they took care of sheep – was named Shemp. Daddy wonders if Shemp was the replacement for a more talented, funnier sheep, whatever that means. I shush daddy. He talks too much sometimes.
:17 The 'sterminator's belly is really big! I think there's a baby in there. My mommy has a baby in her belly ...
:29 Daddy! That little boy stopped the big man!
I think I liked this one even better than the other one. Even though Squiggs was a lot smaller than the 'sterminator, he beat him. When David beat the giant, he bopped him on the head with a rock even though everyone thought Goliath would beat him up. God helped David and the little guy won. Hey, I'm little. God can help me do big stuff too! Both of the movies were real good. My best friend Reese comes to my house every day. I'll tell her about them and watch them with her.
Recently, new DVDs sent to Index production editor Scott Barkley were viewed by himself and his three-year-old daughter, Rylee. Both watched the DVDs, produced by Wacky World Studios (wackyworld.tv), with Rylee reporting what she observed.
The first video, Don’t Miss the Boat, was told from the perspective of two grandparent roaches retelling the time they spend their honeymoon on Noah’s ark. The second video, Slingshot Slugger, related the story of David and Goliath and teaches kids how no matter your size God is bigger than any obstacle.
Numbers represent the minute mark of the video.
New Roach Approach movies teach kids about faith
By Rylee Grace Barkley
Both of the movies daddy and I watched were about cartoon roaches that do these funny things and have adventures. During the movie they also talk about God. A man named Bruce Barry made them. There's one part on the DVDs where he teaches kids they can draw bugs, flowers and faces if they can just start by writing the number 2 or things that easy. That was one of my favoritest parts.
The first movie we watched was called Don't Miss the Boat! It was about 38 minutes long. In it a little boy cockroach named Squiggz is told by his granny and paw paw about the time they were on Noah's ark.
:02 Daddy says the cockroaches look a lot like the little aliens in Space Jam.
:14 The granny and paw paw – their names are Nana and Lou – have talked about how they had just gotten married and now were on the big boat a man named Noah made. People laughed at him for making the big boat – daddy says it's called an ark. Anyway, this thing just ate up Lou and then spit him out. Daddy says the thing is called an aardvark. It's funny-looking. I ask why it spit out the bug and daddy said 'cause God didn't want it to eat him.
:15 Daddy says," Movie line alert" when Noah is worried about the animals not coming to the ark and God says, "If you build it, they will come."
:21 The funny-looking-elephant-aardvark-thingy thought a plug in the bottom of the boat was a doughnut and tried to eat it! They have to put it back in! Okay, they do.
:23 Daddy, where's the mommy and daddy?
I don't know.
Is that the big boat?
Yes.
That Noah built?
Yes.
Where are the animals?
Inside.
Where inside?
Just inside. Now watch.
:25 There's this little bug who was a bug at the start but now she's not a bug she's in this brown thing hanging from the ceiling of the ark I think she's going to come out a butterfly.
:31 I got it right! She was a butterfly. She had helped the two cockroaches. Even though all the animals got scared and tired being on the boat God took care of them.
:38 I liked this movie. Noah listened to God even when people made fun of him. Daddy said that sometimes we have to do the right thing and listen to what God tells us, even if that means some people laugh at us. There were some times on the boat when they were in trouble and it looked like the boat was going to sink, but daddy said God was in control and took care of everybody.
The second movie we saw was called Sling Shot Slugger and was more about Squiggz. Lou, his paw paw, is in this one too. Daddy said this one was going to be about David and Goliath. David was a little boy and Goliath a great big giant.
:03 Squiggz is skateboarding around. My uncle Taylor does that. Taylor is better at it than Squiggz.
:08 A big, dirty 'sterminator with a big belly is coming to get Squiggz, his friends, and even his grandpa, who is trying to fish in a crab tank. Daddy and I go fishing, but not for crab.
:09 The 'sterminator says "Hammer time" and starts to dance around pretending to crush bugs with a hammer. Daddy thinks I can't hear him but he starts to sing really softly: My music hits me so hard, makes me say "Oh my Lord," Thank you for blessing me, with a mind to rhyme and two hype feet, it feels good when you know you're down, a super dope homeboy from the Oaktown, and I'm known as such, and this is a beat, uh, you can't touch ...
:14 Now Paw Paw Lou — in the movie I think he's called grandpa, but I like paw paw — is telling Squiggz about David and Goliath. That's because Squiggz is scared of the big 'sterminator. Lou is telling how Goliath was a lot bigger than David. David's favorite sheep – he was a shepherd, and they took care of sheep – was named Shemp. Daddy wonders if Shemp was the replacement for a more talented, funnier sheep, whatever that means. I shush daddy. He talks too much sometimes.
:17 The 'sterminator's belly is really big! I think there's a baby in there. My mommy has a baby in her belly ...
:29 Daddy! That little boy stopped the big man!
I think I liked this one even better than the other one. Even though Squiggs was a lot smaller than the 'sterminator, he beat him. When David beat the giant, he bopped him on the head with a rock even though everyone thought Goliath would beat him up. God helped David and the little guy won. Hey, I'm little. God can help me do big stuff too! Both of the movies were real good. My best friend Reese comes to my house every day. I'll tell her about them and watch them with her.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Baby on the way
Only six weeks in the process, but he/she is doing fine along with his/her mommy. He/she is the little blob in the lower-right.
Monday, February 27, 2006
24 update
This week's episode was one of the better ones simply to see Gamgee the CTU director get hauled off.
4:04 The first lady jumps into the motorcade. Don't you wish the prez was half the man his wife is?
4:07 Why can't they just redirect the motorcade? A pimply teen can call in a fake fire that causes a road to close, but President Gumby and Mike can't?
4:08 The hobbit is yelling at Edgar. A tenspot says Big E could do a few atomic elboes a-la Dusty Rhodes on him.
4:23 What? Did I just hear that Jack and that other guy are going to a bunker?
4:30 Ooooh! Chloe looks ready to run over Rudy like Mateus did that one time in practice.
4:38 Curtis is currently my hero of the universe! That was one of the greatest beatdowns of little man syndrome ever! Send Gamgee to his tiny mushroom-shaped cell.
4:48 Okay. Who ever runs the presidential ticket of Curtis and Aaron Pierce in '08 gets my vote.
4:56 Isn't Jack's mentor the same guy who was Robocop?
It looks like in the previews for next week (2 hours!) that Jack gets to Robocop while Mrs. Robo looks on. Tony returns. Pierce is told that the Prez actually had handed over the Russian president to the terrorists. Oh yeah, and Wile E. Coyote ... er, Kim comes back to get caught up in little tragedies that have nothing to do with the rest of the plot.
4:04 The first lady jumps into the motorcade. Don't you wish the prez was half the man his wife is?
4:07 Why can't they just redirect the motorcade? A pimply teen can call in a fake fire that causes a road to close, but President Gumby and Mike can't?
4:08 The hobbit is yelling at Edgar. A tenspot says Big E could do a few atomic elboes a-la Dusty Rhodes on him.
4:23 What? Did I just hear that Jack and that other guy are going to a bunker?
4:30 Ooooh! Chloe looks ready to run over Rudy like Mateus did that one time in practice.
4:38 Curtis is currently my hero of the universe! That was one of the greatest beatdowns of little man syndrome ever! Send Gamgee to his tiny mushroom-shaped cell.
4:48 Okay. Who ever runs the presidential ticket of Curtis and Aaron Pierce in '08 gets my vote.
4:56 Isn't Jack's mentor the same guy who was Robocop?
It looks like in the previews for next week (2 hours!) that Jack gets to Robocop while Mrs. Robo looks on. Tony returns. Pierce is told that the Prez actually had handed over the Russian president to the terrorists. Oh yeah, and Wile E. Coyote ... er, Kim comes back to get caught up in little tragedies that have nothing to do with the rest of the plot.
Friday, January 20, 2006
The Evolution of Toys
My three-year-old daughter receives a slew of toys every Christmas and birthday, not to mention most days in between. It’s not that her mother and I feel the need to smother her with things, it’s that she is reaping the benefits of being the only grandchild of both sets of grandparents. On top of that, my wife was the only girl among seven children between Rylee’s Nana and Grammy. That has resulted in a giant wave of estrogen released upon us in the form of dolls, little pink dresses, and Cinderella paraphernalia.
The amount of toys isn’t all that bad. We may have to move into another house to accommodate all the stuff, but it’s not what really concerns me. It’s the level of technological wizardry which has gone into the toys, dolls in particular.
Talking toys are okay. I can deal with that. It’s the toys that begin talking on their own which seems to cross some sort of line. When Amazing Amanda wakes up on her own at eight o-clock every morning and says in that belongs-in-a-Stephen-King-movie voice “Say my name, mommy.” I’m weirded out just a tad. On Dec. 31 my wife “woke” her up (You do that by hugging her. Lugging Amazing Amanda, Dress-up Dora, and assorted boxes upstairs after Christmas, I squeezed the little cyborg to make her ask me if I was her mommy.). After Amy woke up Amanda, my wife was greeted with “Happy New Year’s Eve, mommy.” The doll knew what day it was. Something else: Amanda will ask to go to the potty. Once you place her on her little toilet that was included you hear grunts and little watery kerplops. Lovely.
Okay, that can be a neat trick in programming the toys to know the days of the year and wish Happy whatever, but this is the beginning of the end. A few years ago America seemed to go through this battle-bot faze where nerds would build souped-up rock ‘em sock’ems that would beat each other up with saws and flame throwers in a metal death ring. Take that with the increased intelligence of these talking dolls and Care Bears (one came to life while I was vacuuming my daughter’s room and wanted to read a story to me) and in a millenia or so robots are going to be sent back in time to destroy the mother of the human race’s last chance for survival.
I feel my daughter’s only hope may be to shut her into the toy section of a Cracker Barrel and force feed yo-yo’s and slinkys to her. That way I can mount an offensive against the sinister toys who wish to live.
That might have to wait, though. Right now Amanda wants me to make her an omelette before combing her hair, and she can get pretty cranky when her breakfast is late.
The amount of toys isn’t all that bad. We may have to move into another house to accommodate all the stuff, but it’s not what really concerns me. It’s the level of technological wizardry which has gone into the toys, dolls in particular.
Talking toys are okay. I can deal with that. It’s the toys that begin talking on their own which seems to cross some sort of line. When Amazing Amanda wakes up on her own at eight o-clock every morning and says in that belongs-in-a-Stephen-King-movie voice “Say my name, mommy.” I’m weirded out just a tad. On Dec. 31 my wife “woke” her up (You do that by hugging her. Lugging Amazing Amanda, Dress-up Dora, and assorted boxes upstairs after Christmas, I squeezed the little cyborg to make her ask me if I was her mommy.). After Amy woke up Amanda, my wife was greeted with “Happy New Year’s Eve, mommy.” The doll knew what day it was. Something else: Amanda will ask to go to the potty. Once you place her on her little toilet that was included you hear grunts and little watery kerplops. Lovely.
Okay, that can be a neat trick in programming the toys to know the days of the year and wish Happy whatever, but this is the beginning of the end. A few years ago America seemed to go through this battle-bot faze where nerds would build souped-up rock ‘em sock’ems that would beat each other up with saws and flame throwers in a metal death ring. Take that with the increased intelligence of these talking dolls and Care Bears (one came to life while I was vacuuming my daughter’s room and wanted to read a story to me) and in a millenia or so robots are going to be sent back in time to destroy the mother of the human race’s last chance for survival.
I feel my daughter’s only hope may be to shut her into the toy section of a Cracker Barrel and force feed yo-yo’s and slinkys to her. That way I can mount an offensive against the sinister toys who wish to live.
That might have to wait, though. Right now Amanda wants me to make her an omelette before combing her hair, and she can get pretty cranky when her breakfast is late.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Punch to the gut
It'a now been a full day since Alabama looked like a pee-wee team against Auburn and I'm still getting over it. Heck, I've had since five minutes into the game to reconcile with the fact that for the fourth straight year the football team I've followed since I was a kid lost to the in-state rival.
I realized something from this game. Alabama -- fans, team, coaches, everyone -- has reached a point where we are owned by Auburn. It's been the same for other teams and their fans. At one point it didn't matter how succesful a season the Red Sox had, everyone knew the Yankees would get them in the playoffs, when it counted. For a number of years Ohio State would go undefeated or maybe have one loss ... until they faced Michigan, who always beat them. That's how it has become with Alabama and Auburn.
I'm still clinging to some things when Auburn fans get on me: We have 12 national titles; we still lead the overall series; you can't match our tradition; etc. However, I'm ready to get back to the point where each year I expect us to win this game. Right now I'm in the boat with everyone else rooting for the Crimson Tide: We merely hope to win this game each year. Auburn knows they will.
I realized something from this game. Alabama -- fans, team, coaches, everyone -- has reached a point where we are owned by Auburn. It's been the same for other teams and their fans. At one point it didn't matter how succesful a season the Red Sox had, everyone knew the Yankees would get them in the playoffs, when it counted. For a number of years Ohio State would go undefeated or maybe have one loss ... until they faced Michigan, who always beat them. That's how it has become with Alabama and Auburn.
I'm still clinging to some things when Auburn fans get on me: We have 12 national titles; we still lead the overall series; you can't match our tradition; etc. However, I'm ready to get back to the point where each year I expect us to win this game. Right now I'm in the boat with everyone else rooting for the Crimson Tide: We merely hope to win this game each year. Auburn knows they will.
Friday, October 28, 2005
You really want to know the truth behind that?
I was listening to a radio station going into work today that had Professor Griff from Public Enemy on. For those of you who don't know, Griff was the guy is this controversial rap group that the others felt was too controversial. Today he was spouting off on topics like how AIDS was a government experiment to kill black people, Christianity is a farce because Jesus really wasn't born on Dec. 25, and 9/11 was a complete and total attack on America straight from the Bush administration. You know, regular suppertime talk. According to him, America isn't even a government. It's a corporation and we are all the little inbred animals on the island to its Dr. Moreau.
It all got me to thinking. You know, I've got some conspiracy theories of my own, and it's time for the world to know the truth...
Politicians: They're all corrupt. Every last one of 'em except for maybe the small town mayor who has lived there ever since he was a kid. People already know all of his/her skeletons. Everyone above that has jumped in bed (literally or figuratively) with someone their supporters wouldn't like. When it comes votin' time, pick the one who is emitting the lowest level of stench.
Wal Mart check out lines: At no point (even at Christmas) will every single register be open and working properly. It's their way of making you wait in line so you'll get bored and buy some gum, candy or a magazine that's not worth the bird poo it will eventually be catching.
Atlanta traffic: The lady talking on the cell phone will always end up in front of me and slowing down or behind me, causing me to sprout three new gray hairs on every slowdown in the anticipation I'm going to get the new-guy-at-Attica treatment. This is all connected to the tire and automotive companies causing me to have to get my car fixed and replaced, lining their pockets with my money.
Playground equipment manufacturers: Didn't think I was going to let them off, did you? Oh yeah! No longer do you see jungle gym contraptions where you might break your skull after falling from the top and bouncing through the bars to the bottom like a human plinko chip. The fun you had before the humpty dumpty routine was worth it, pretty much. Overcautious companies and sue-happy parents have taken this fun out of childhood. Every kid needs to experience one trip to the ER or have knocked themselves out while trying to imitate an older sibling. The conspiracy here is to make us all wusses who won't attempt a marginally-stupid feat simply in respond to those words "Betcha won't!". America needs its cajones back and it starts by toughening up on playgrounds.
and finally ...
Mechanics, doctors, lawyers, real estate agents, deliverymen, kindergarten workers, drive-through people, and air traffic controllers: Basically anyone who has a leg up on information that affects me and I have to trust them. We're all over a barrel here in dealing with these people and taking their word for it. One day I can see where they all ban together at the perfect moment because the rest of us are in perfect alignment for a downfall, orchestrated by this group. This day will come. There's no fighting it.
After all, these people are all part of one big corporation.
It all got me to thinking. You know, I've got some conspiracy theories of my own, and it's time for the world to know the truth...
Politicians: They're all corrupt. Every last one of 'em except for maybe the small town mayor who has lived there ever since he was a kid. People already know all of his/her skeletons. Everyone above that has jumped in bed (literally or figuratively) with someone their supporters wouldn't like. When it comes votin' time, pick the one who is emitting the lowest level of stench.
Wal Mart check out lines: At no point (even at Christmas) will every single register be open and working properly. It's their way of making you wait in line so you'll get bored and buy some gum, candy or a magazine that's not worth the bird poo it will eventually be catching.
Atlanta traffic: The lady talking on the cell phone will always end up in front of me and slowing down or behind me, causing me to sprout three new gray hairs on every slowdown in the anticipation I'm going to get the new-guy-at-Attica treatment. This is all connected to the tire and automotive companies causing me to have to get my car fixed and replaced, lining their pockets with my money.
Playground equipment manufacturers: Didn't think I was going to let them off, did you? Oh yeah! No longer do you see jungle gym contraptions where you might break your skull after falling from the top and bouncing through the bars to the bottom like a human plinko chip. The fun you had before the humpty dumpty routine was worth it, pretty much. Overcautious companies and sue-happy parents have taken this fun out of childhood. Every kid needs to experience one trip to the ER or have knocked themselves out while trying to imitate an older sibling. The conspiracy here is to make us all wusses who won't attempt a marginally-stupid feat simply in respond to those words "Betcha won't!". America needs its cajones back and it starts by toughening up on playgrounds.
and finally ...
Mechanics, doctors, lawyers, real estate agents, deliverymen, kindergarten workers, drive-through people, and air traffic controllers: Basically anyone who has a leg up on information that affects me and I have to trust them. We're all over a barrel here in dealing with these people and taking their word for it. One day I can see where they all ban together at the perfect moment because the rest of us are in perfect alignment for a downfall, orchestrated by this group. This day will come. There's no fighting it.
After all, these people are all part of one big corporation.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Rammer jammer
It's been three days since Alabama smoked Florida and I'm still squealing like an excited schoolgirl about it. I tend to get excited when watching Bama play, but for the first two quarters I was running around, jumping and yelling in my living room like my Prozac subscription was WAY overdue. For some reason when I get excited watching football my voice tends to start sounding blacker, like when Will Smith talked junk to the crashed alien in Independence Day.
Back to what's right and good in the world. We Bama fans have been waiting for a win like this since, well, the '99 SEC Championship game against Florida. That was sweet in its own way for being in a championship game and seeing Steve Spurrier turn various shades of cherry Kool-Aid, but the win Saturday had its plusses as well.
One of those plusses was that Urban Meyer saw how an offense whose plays look like they were drawn up in the dirt in the backyard might work in the Mountain West, but not the SEC. Athletes here are a little bit faster. The greatest thing was seeing UA returning to the ranks of the elite. It just feels like the universe is back in order.
We can't get too cocky though. After Tyrone Prothro's TD on Bama's first play from scrimmage, my wife and I were running around and screaming, much in the same way when Freddie Milons returned the first punt of the year for a score agains UCLA in the 2000 season opener. That was the highlight of the year. The Tide stumbled the rest of the season.
This team is different though. Although this year's defense is not the '92 unit, they're tough. Brodie seems to be gearing up for three years of frustration to erupt in one final season of dominance. Kenneth Darby is one of those elite backs who somehow goes unnoticed until he's running over and around you for a buck-twenty.
Oh yes. Things are good in Bama nation. Rolllllll Tiiiiiiide!!!
Back to what's right and good in the world. We Bama fans have been waiting for a win like this since, well, the '99 SEC Championship game against Florida. That was sweet in its own way for being in a championship game and seeing Steve Spurrier turn various shades of cherry Kool-Aid, but the win Saturday had its plusses as well.
One of those plusses was that Urban Meyer saw how an offense whose plays look like they were drawn up in the dirt in the backyard might work in the Mountain West, but not the SEC. Athletes here are a little bit faster. The greatest thing was seeing UA returning to the ranks of the elite. It just feels like the universe is back in order.
We can't get too cocky though. After Tyrone Prothro's TD on Bama's first play from scrimmage, my wife and I were running around and screaming, much in the same way when Freddie Milons returned the first punt of the year for a score agains UCLA in the 2000 season opener. That was the highlight of the year. The Tide stumbled the rest of the season.
This team is different though. Although this year's defense is not the '92 unit, they're tough. Brodie seems to be gearing up for three years of frustration to erupt in one final season of dominance. Kenneth Darby is one of those elite backs who somehow goes unnoticed until he's running over and around you for a buck-twenty.
Oh yes. Things are good in Bama nation. Rolllllll Tiiiiiiide!!!
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Pray for Zach and the others
Everybody at some point was young enough to think it inconceivable that they could die. That's why you do so many stupid and reckless things the younger you are. More often than not, we come out okay and maybe just learning a lesson to be more careful the next time. Unfortunately, others don't survive.
When I saw this article in the local Sunday paper, my stomach sunk. If you don't know the kids, you feel sorry and bad for the parents, but then tend to move on. In a small town like Cartersville, though, it seems everyone has a connection. Therefore everyone is affected.
My connection to this goes back to my first year of teaching. Everyone will tell you that your first year in that profession is the roughest one. Even though I ended up loving being a teacher, that first semester sucked. Kids will take advantage of you and smell blood in the water. It was in my freshman geography class that I had Zach Shedd.
There are kids who make teachers want to quit, and there are those who make the job fun. Zach was one of the latter. That was a rough class and he was one of the ones who made it possible for me to make it through. Because of him being an overall hard worker and great kid, I gave him my Top Cat award, given to the top student by a teacher among all that teacher's classes.
I don't know if it was something in the water or what, but I ended up teaching a lot of twins while at Woodland. After Zach I had his twin brother, Devin, in my ninth grade English class. Teachers aren't supposed to play favorites, but there are just some kids you like more than others and you'll give them a little more slack. That's how I was with these guys. I ended up just liking them both.
One thing Zach, Devin and I would bring up around each other was Alabama football. Having a lot of class such as myself, they rooted for the Tide and we'd talk or complain about Alabama. For some reason I also kept running into these guys around town, which was cool.
I now work in Atlanta at a small newspaper. When I heard Zach was at Atlanta Medical Center, I knew I had to go. His mom, Tabitha, has been sleeping in the waiting room outside of the ICU since Sunday. When I got to see Zach, I was ready to give him a pass if he couldn't remember me. After all, the kid had come thisclose to death.
It did me good when he remembered who I was. There's a tube in the back of his head draining out fluid. His hip is broken along with his right femur. I asked him where it hurts the most and he said," My head... and neck. My leg. Chest. All over."
He doesn't remember much about the wreck and asks his mom from time to time about the others. He doesn't know that the other two girls in the back seat with him died. The doctors say it's too risky for him to know.
When tragedies like this hit, words tend to sound shallow no matter how profound they would normally be. In these, the initial stages, people want to assign blame. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now keep these kids and their families in your prayers. Not an oh-by-the-way mention either. Don't bother if that's going to be the case. Make it real and heartfelt and earnest.
When I saw this article in the local Sunday paper, my stomach sunk. If you don't know the kids, you feel sorry and bad for the parents, but then tend to move on. In a small town like Cartersville, though, it seems everyone has a connection. Therefore everyone is affected.
My connection to this goes back to my first year of teaching. Everyone will tell you that your first year in that profession is the roughest one. Even though I ended up loving being a teacher, that first semester sucked. Kids will take advantage of you and smell blood in the water. It was in my freshman geography class that I had Zach Shedd.
There are kids who make teachers want to quit, and there are those who make the job fun. Zach was one of the latter. That was a rough class and he was one of the ones who made it possible for me to make it through. Because of him being an overall hard worker and great kid, I gave him my Top Cat award, given to the top student by a teacher among all that teacher's classes.
I don't know if it was something in the water or what, but I ended up teaching a lot of twins while at Woodland. After Zach I had his twin brother, Devin, in my ninth grade English class. Teachers aren't supposed to play favorites, but there are just some kids you like more than others and you'll give them a little more slack. That's how I was with these guys. I ended up just liking them both.
One thing Zach, Devin and I would bring up around each other was Alabama football. Having a lot of class such as myself, they rooted for the Tide and we'd talk or complain about Alabama. For some reason I also kept running into these guys around town, which was cool.
I now work in Atlanta at a small newspaper. When I heard Zach was at Atlanta Medical Center, I knew I had to go. His mom, Tabitha, has been sleeping in the waiting room outside of the ICU since Sunday. When I got to see Zach, I was ready to give him a pass if he couldn't remember me. After all, the kid had come thisclose to death.
It did me good when he remembered who I was. There's a tube in the back of his head draining out fluid. His hip is broken along with his right femur. I asked him where it hurts the most and he said," My head... and neck. My leg. Chest. All over."
He doesn't remember much about the wreck and asks his mom from time to time about the others. He doesn't know that the other two girls in the back seat with him died. The doctors say it's too risky for him to know.
When tragedies like this hit, words tend to sound shallow no matter how profound they would normally be. In these, the initial stages, people want to assign blame. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now keep these kids and their families in your prayers. Not an oh-by-the-way mention either. Don't bother if that's going to be the case. Make it real and heartfelt and earnest.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I knew it as soon as I saw it ...
As soon as I saw this story about a Reuters photographer taking a picture of a note President Bush slid to Condoleeza Rice during a UN meeting, I smiled. It wasn't because of the note itself asking whether it was a good time to go for presidential whiz, but because of how Bushhaters were going to attack it.
They jumped on it from the start, adding to their list of social gaffes by our president. Actually, many of these are funny. I suspect that my reaction to them is the same as our president's -- laugh about it and move on. In this case, he was checking with his secretary of state about proper protocol. That's it.
For the most part, I'm a Bush supporter. By that admission some people will make instant snap judgements on me. I must be stupid and uneducated. I'm a conservative just to the right of the Klan. I obviously care nothing about the environment or people of other races.
When I hear these people speak or read what they say, it fascinates me. At one time it made me mad. The longer I was exposed to their words, though, the sentiments started to sound familiar. I couldn't quite place it, but one day it hit me. For the most part, Bush-bashers (those who look for a fault in everything our president does. If it rains at their kid's birthday party, it's due to not signing the Kyoto agreement.) are those high school girls who hate other girls and have no clear reason why. There might have been some tangible reason at some point, but that was long ago and now new reasons are created at every move their object of loathing makes.
I can't stand President Bush/Tiffany.
Why?
Oh, I just can't. Look at him/her. He/She is just so stupid! I can't stand them!
That's all the reasoning needed.
Oh, some logic will be tossed in there. However, the truth will always be that if the same point were brought up by, say, any Democrat, it would be great. For Bushhaters, it's blame the messenger no matter what.
It's a shame, really. We need dissenting voices in America. Keeps people honest and jives with the checks-and-balances stuff we've been taught since fifth grade. But these folks have pigeonholed themselves into complaining about every little thing with our president. For many observers, it's made liberals' voices sound like the same old gong being pounded with no variation in frequency or message.
Here's where it's tossed in my face about the president's low approval ratings. Here it is: I don't trust the numbers. Also, if there is enough negative press, there will be polls to reflect it. Keep in mind that even though Churchill led England in the fight against Germany, he was still defeated in the next election. History has a weird way of viewing the maligned. I think it will ultimately turn out to be the same for President Bush.
They jumped on it from the start, adding to their list of social gaffes by our president. Actually, many of these are funny. I suspect that my reaction to them is the same as our president's -- laugh about it and move on. In this case, he was checking with his secretary of state about proper protocol. That's it.
For the most part, I'm a Bush supporter. By that admission some people will make instant snap judgements on me. I must be stupid and uneducated. I'm a conservative just to the right of the Klan. I obviously care nothing about the environment or people of other races.
When I hear these people speak or read what they say, it fascinates me. At one time it made me mad. The longer I was exposed to their words, though, the sentiments started to sound familiar. I couldn't quite place it, but one day it hit me. For the most part, Bush-bashers (those who look for a fault in everything our president does. If it rains at their kid's birthday party, it's due to not signing the Kyoto agreement.) are those high school girls who hate other girls and have no clear reason why. There might have been some tangible reason at some point, but that was long ago and now new reasons are created at every move their object of loathing makes.
I can't stand President Bush/Tiffany.
Why?
Oh, I just can't. Look at him/her. He/She is just so stupid! I can't stand them!
That's all the reasoning needed.
Oh, some logic will be tossed in there. However, the truth will always be that if the same point were brought up by, say, any Democrat, it would be great. For Bushhaters, it's blame the messenger no matter what.
It's a shame, really. We need dissenting voices in America. Keeps people honest and jives with the checks-and-balances stuff we've been taught since fifth grade. But these folks have pigeonholed themselves into complaining about every little thing with our president. For many observers, it's made liberals' voices sound like the same old gong being pounded with no variation in frequency or message.
Here's where it's tossed in my face about the president's low approval ratings. Here it is: I don't trust the numbers. Also, if there is enough negative press, there will be polls to reflect it. Keep in mind that even though Churchill led England in the fight against Germany, he was still defeated in the next election. History has a weird way of viewing the maligned. I think it will ultimately turn out to be the same for President Bush.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Mixed start to football season
There are times where I want to be in a great mood concerning something, but there is just one thing holding me back. It's something that just sticks in the back of my head and keeps me from enjoying an overall picture.
That's the case with football right now. For me, Christmas might officially come on Dec. 25, but it actually kicks off the first week of college football. High school is already going on at that time, and I consider it somwhat of a pre-season. The NFL is a nice extra a week after college has started.
Although my old high school is doing well (2-1, ranked in their class. The only loss coming at the hands of a ranked school in a larger classification.), college is a different story. My Jacksonville State Gamecocks are staring 0-3 in the face after dropping a heartbreaker to Furman on the last play of the game and last week losing to UT-Chattanooga with 10 seconds left. UAB isn't the same team we beat in the mid-90's. They're a legit D-I school. I was looking forward to perhaps a home playoff game this year. That possibility is all but gone. We need to win the Ohio Valley Conference again just to make the playoffs.
It would be a shame if JSU goes in the tank this year and it could all be traced back to one play at the end of the first game of the year. If Furman's QB, Ingle Martin, is just tackled a second later, the clock runs out at the Gamecocks have the biggest win since the move to D-I, perhaps the biggest upset in school history.
On the same vein, Alabama's season may have been saved on Tyrone Prothro's good-grief-did-you-see-that catch Saturday night. On a fourth and 12 at the end of the first half, Prothro's 42-yard catch puts Bama at the one. One play later makes the score 21-17, Southern Miss. Without that catch, you wonder if Alabama wins.
As for the Falcons, I'm feeling pretty good about this team. It's the morning after we got back at Philladelphia for the NFC Championship game loss 14-10, on Monday night. (Monday Night Football makes me miss living in Wyoming and the Mountain Time Zone. There it's on from 7-10, the way it should be. I haven't seen a complete MNF or World Series game since moving to Georgia. Out there you also don't have to stay up all hours of the night to watch the college games out there with their teams and the crazy offenses.)
Although the Falcons won, it's different playing an Eagles defense without Jeremiah Trotter. He's one of those guys that when he's on the other team you want his head knocked off after he does one of those axe-chop deals following a big hit, but you'd find it absolutely delightful if he's wearing your colors.
As for Mike Vick, I don't want to hear anything else about him not being a true quarterback. Yeah, okay, what's your point? Don't call him a glorified running back taking snaps. If you can't bring yourself to call him a quarterback, fine. Just admit he's the only person in the NFL that does what he does at his position. He's a new breed of athlete, and this is coming from a conventional football fan that will take an awesome running game over a great passing game. I'll every time choose big-time defense over big-play offense. What we have in Atlanta, though, is something different in a quarterback and at time defies definition, so let him be.
That's the case with football right now. For me, Christmas might officially come on Dec. 25, but it actually kicks off the first week of college football. High school is already going on at that time, and I consider it somwhat of a pre-season. The NFL is a nice extra a week after college has started.
Although my old high school is doing well (2-1, ranked in their class. The only loss coming at the hands of a ranked school in a larger classification.), college is a different story. My Jacksonville State Gamecocks are staring 0-3 in the face after dropping a heartbreaker to Furman on the last play of the game and last week losing to UT-Chattanooga with 10 seconds left. UAB isn't the same team we beat in the mid-90's. They're a legit D-I school. I was looking forward to perhaps a home playoff game this year. That possibility is all but gone. We need to win the Ohio Valley Conference again just to make the playoffs.
It would be a shame if JSU goes in the tank this year and it could all be traced back to one play at the end of the first game of the year. If Furman's QB, Ingle Martin, is just tackled a second later, the clock runs out at the Gamecocks have the biggest win since the move to D-I, perhaps the biggest upset in school history.
On the same vein, Alabama's season may have been saved on Tyrone Prothro's good-grief-did-you-see-that catch Saturday night. On a fourth and 12 at the end of the first half, Prothro's 42-yard catch puts Bama at the one. One play later makes the score 21-17, Southern Miss. Without that catch, you wonder if Alabama wins.
As for the Falcons, I'm feeling pretty good about this team. It's the morning after we got back at Philladelphia for the NFC Championship game loss 14-10, on Monday night. (Monday Night Football makes me miss living in Wyoming and the Mountain Time Zone. There it's on from 7-10, the way it should be. I haven't seen a complete MNF or World Series game since moving to Georgia. Out there you also don't have to stay up all hours of the night to watch the college games out there with their teams and the crazy offenses.)
Although the Falcons won, it's different playing an Eagles defense without Jeremiah Trotter. He's one of those guys that when he's on the other team you want his head knocked off after he does one of those axe-chop deals following a big hit, but you'd find it absolutely delightful if he's wearing your colors.
As for Mike Vick, I don't want to hear anything else about him not being a true quarterback. Yeah, okay, what's your point? Don't call him a glorified running back taking snaps. If you can't bring yourself to call him a quarterback, fine. Just admit he's the only person in the NFL that does what he does at his position. He's a new breed of athlete, and this is coming from a conventional football fan that will take an awesome running game over a great passing game. I'll every time choose big-time defense over big-play offense. What we have in Atlanta, though, is something different in a quarterback and at time defies definition, so let him be.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Before and after New Orleans satellite images
This is unbelieveable. Whenever there is a flood in the U.S., it's almost always a small area or a drawn-out section, such as along the Mississippi River. What is going on in New Orleans is something reserved for disaster movies. Think of it: a city of nearly a half-million people now unliveable. Will these people just resettle in Houston or Jackson or Shreveport -- wherever the refugee bus dropped them off? This is a major city where nobody has gone to work in nearly a week now. At this time, I find myself among those dropping a ton of questions, with little answers.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Be careful around new roommates and the iron
If you've ever had a roommate in college you didn't know beforehand, you have a story. It's a fact of life. I would suspect the girl on the tail end of this beatdown would rather she didn't have this story, though. Don't mess with any Barkley women!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Dean blasts Bush for endorsing intelligent design
Why does this scare some people so much? Having an open mind means allowing concepts to be discussed that might threaten your own "concrete" convictions, right? I was taught one perspective during my entire time in school. It was seen as fact. I didn't raise a fuss about it, yet I didn't buy it. It would have been interesting to have been presented another theory or origin, such as intelligent design.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Hilton Head was pretty nice
Spent the last week in Hilton Head, SC. It was my first time there and I must say, very enjoyable. Before the trip, the only time it seemed I had heard of the place was whenever a hurricane was going to hit it. Getting there had some problems. It's about a five-hour drive from where we live. We got a late start due to attending a funeral. This resulted in us getting on the road at 8:00, with a five-hour trip ahead of us. I drove the whole way. At one point, it rained so hard that we slowed down to a crawl.
We got to HH around one in the morning. It was still raining and extremely dark. Basically, there is one main road on the island with all the side streets nearby. Our resort was on this main road, we thought.
I say that because we didn't get our package in the mail before leaving. I had booked the cond online, and evidently, our info packet got a little hung up. My wife got in touch with the guy who owned the condo and he passed the code to the key box for us to get in.
Back to my story. We're driving along and never see the place. I start wondering in my mind if we'd been scammed, going over the name of our contact and the resort, now convinced they were both fictitious.
A guy at a store tells us that he thinks the place we're looking for is back in the direction we came from. I'm not encouraged by this, knowing I had looked carefully along the road.
We go back and there it is the Hilton Head Resort, lit up in bright lights. How did I miss it? The lights on the side of the sign facing the direction we came in were out. Nice marketing.
Oh, yeah. The key broke off in the lock. Luckily there was a spare inside. We got to bed around two in the morning.
The rest of the trip was great. We had to get used to the half-mile walk to the beach over the boardwalk, but got used to it. The walk to the beach, private beach houses being on our left and right, and hotels/public access areas being a mile or two down the beach on either side resulted in us having a semi-private beach. One day we went into Savannah and toured the city on a trolley. That night we ate at The Lady and Sons. We had heard that this place was a little overhyped, but we loved it. I made only one trip to the buffet. I couldn't believe it. That had never happened to me before. Maybe there's some kind of Viagra-like pill for my stomach so I can perform again.
All in all, it was a good trip. The water was warm and very calm. The beaches were pretty clean. HH is known for its golfing, but I didn't feel like shelling out a hundred bucks or so just to get mad at myself. I can deflate my ego for 11 dollars at the hacker's course down the road.
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