Things I Don't Understand - Return of the Mind-Bogglers

Mmmmmm... Gluey
An insightful reader helped spark this brain-cramping thought. (Let this be motivation, kids, you too can suggest things the author can't wrap his mind around.)

Consider the following:

Man has walked on the moon.

Man has created an Internet that allows people from across the world to share information with each other nearly instantaneously.

Man has even created a society in which one can earn millions of dollars simply for allowing a camera crew to film your everyday stuck-up life.

Man (this refers to the human species, ladies, I'm not discriminating) has done all this, yet it seems like we have missed out on some obvious areas where improvement is needed.

Case in point: envelopes.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate envelopes. Without them, my mail would be all willy-nilly when it arrives in my mailbox. Not only that, but the term "self-addressed, stamped envelope" would be rendered moot. (This, friends, would be devastating.)

My beef with envelopes is just a matter of taste. Literally.

If one had to describe the taste of envelope glue, my guess is that result would be something near "tongue-cripplingly toxic." It's just horrible. How can members of a society this technologically advanced still be willing to subject themselves to the equivalent of licking the sticky side of a roll of duct tape every time they mail their cable bill?

Shockingly, I am not the first to address such an issue. A quick search of this web that spans worldwide shows that a patent exists for envelope adhesive that doesn't make one want to scrape his or her tongue with a cheese grater. I'd go into deeper detail, but once I got to the word "polymeric" I had another item to add to my list of things I don't understand.

It is great to see that a world in which mass-produced envelopes with a glue that doesn't make one want to inject their tongue with Novocaine may be in front of us. Nevertheless, I'm still wondering how it has eluded us for this long. Is it just to keep those that ate their Elmer's in elementary school from becoming envelope addicts when they grow up?


No, really... Don't try this at home



Originally, this point was going to be about how the phrase "don't
try this at home," is overused. After all, it's tossed out in
television programs where multi-million dollar rockets might be
featured or where someone will be hunting a pack of dingos with a bowie
knife. Sorry, but most folks I know don't have access to multi-million
dollar incendiary devices or packs of wild dogs indigenous to the
outback.



I was attempting to find some examples online of the absurdity of how this phrase is used... Then I came across this.



Now THERE'S something I don't understand.


What rhymes with orange?

It's a fact that everyone loves tossing around. No word in the
English language rhymes with orange. Yeah, it's a fun bit of trivia,
but I think it's time to retire it.



New words are added every single year to the Oxford English Dictionary.
The most recent additions include words like blowback, crunk, and
mentee. With all these new words being granted wordship each year, how
is it that "orange" still stands without a rhyming mate. It's time we
rectify this, folks.



I have done some research and now know what Graeme Diamond (who bears and uncanny resemblance to the old Encyclopedia Britannica
kid) considers before adding a cluster of letters with a phonetic
pronunciation to the dictionary. Basically, a word has to be used for
an extended period of time in an abundance of areas. Apparently nothing
rhyming with orange has ever met such qualifications. This disappoints
me.



Consider this a call for action. It's time The Writings makes it's
mark. It's time that The Writings supports a cause (other than
attempting to get a duck elected president). It's time that we at The
Writings give textual life to what will be the first word that rhymes
with orange. Now we just have to decide what it will be...

A New Standard

A pair of very astute (read: related to me) readers recently clued me into a television show they think I have been missing out on. Being (the only?) two readers of these Writings, they are well aware of how much I enjoy horrible television. It's an interest that helped lead a series of "Bad Movie Nights" among my roommates in college. (No, believe it or not, those did not impress many of the female variety.) These days, it leads to an odd sense of excitement whenever I come across a new Sci Fi Original movie. This new program, they promised, would assuage my appetite for barely watchable television.

By now, you're curious (unless "you" suggested I watch the program... and we have already established that, odds are, you did... Well, pretend to act surprised.), just what television show could this be. Well, the title pretty much gives you a valid first impression - MTV's Bromance.

Let's join it in progress...

The opening- Apparently becoming Brody's "bro" is the "ultimate challenge." (Take that astronauts, firefighters, cancer researchers, and others who thought you might be making a difference. )I also learned that Brody has a self-described "sick-ass pad." The adjectives "lame-ass" and "hot-ass" are also tossed in... I think I can feel my brain trying to ooze out my ears to end this misery already.

3-minutes in- The four finalists (two guys who sound like they got lost on their way home from Fenway park; a short and somewhat nerdy (cough*pot, meet kettle*cough) kid, and a Nigerian nursing student) are headed to meet Brody at a spa... Quite an impressive premise. I'm pretty sure this could be a script for a feature film. Amazing.

4-minutes in- Brody (real name: Sam Brody Jenner... What, Sammance doesn't have the same ring as Bromance?) has a prank going on the potential "bros" where he's going to have them wear some "lame-ass" jeans (featuring sparkles, rhinestones, flower designs and patches of unicorn fur*) out on a red carpet... My mind is overloaded with potential comments here, but I think my main question is, "What in the name of the decathalon has Brody Jenner done to be somewhere with a red carpet gathering? Are they just going to hang out in a carpet store for a bit?"

*I may have made one of those up.

After the first commercial break- Fresh off a very awkward waxing session at the spa, it's time for these four misguided souls to try on their fancy new jeans. The end result looks like some odd combination of The Village People and the Fabulous Freebirds.

Although every contestant vying to be the groupie of a guy with no talent hates the look of these ridiculous outfits, the first three compromise their values (and self-respect... and argue against the idea that they're anything but rhinestone-studded sheep) and tell Jenner that they really like the look. Bro #4 seemingly has a religious experience after witnessing his reflection while wearing jeans tight enough to make Richard Simmons blush and riding lower than most tricycles. He proceeds to change his clothes (and provide hope for mankind).

Back from break #2- Brody convinces his actual "homies" (two non-competing friends) to help out with the prank and also dress up like guys in their 20s who accidentally did their shopping in the petite girls section at The Gap... It's good to know that Brody doesn't have to have a contest everytime he wants a friend, but he may reach that point if he keeps having his friends do this stuff.

Bro4 loses any chance he had at earning my respect, as he goes back on his comments against the Little Miss Brody collection and wears the sparkly wardrobe to the red carpet event. Soon after, all potential bros do their best Bruce Lee impersonations on the red carpet, showing off some kung fu actions and generally looking absurd. If one hadn't figured out by now that these guys might not be the greenest trees in the forest, this revelation becomes abundantly clear when none of them question why the "red carpet" in question appears to be little more than some red wrapping paper rolled out on the ground. Other clues that might have alerted a competent person that something was awry include the fact that there was no one else on the red carpet... at all. It was a couple fake "media" folk and that's it.

Back from break #3- The cat is out of the bag and the "funny-ass" prank is revealed. An abundance of fake laughter follows and I suddenly feel like I missed a really funny joke... Then I remembered what I was watching. Bro4 apparently wins this challenge, since he was "real," and gets to wear clothes that wear slightly less ridiculous during a night on the town. Bros1-3, on the other hand, are off to put the moves on some single (probably) ladies while dressed up like Miley Cyrus fans.

32 minutes in- Bro4 continues to do his best to cement his spot as one of the most ridiculous people ever, saying he's not on Bromance to compete and win, but to find friendship. Isn't that kind of like bow-hunting to find a pet?

Back from break #4- It's time for another challenge. Brody invites the guys over individually to spend some time with a couple models from Playboy. Apparently social awkwardness is a requirement for being a "bro." Being a veteran of socially awkward situations, I can sniff such situations out, even through television. Believe it or not, intelligent conversation is not prevalent during this portion of the show. While watching this painful scene, I once thought I may have heard, "So what do you think of Obama's cabinet selections?" but it turns out it was just a drawn out utterance of the word "dude."

Back from break #5- The short, nerdy potential bro (SNBP, as we'll affectionately call him) wins the challenge and spends some time with the girls in a hot tub as a result. Remember the last paragraph when we were talking about social awkwardness? Strike that from your memory, as this pretty much renders the term "socially awkward" moot. I think it's now called SNBP.

The elimination takes place at the counter of a Chinese restaurant, and Brody begins it by saying that he wanted the guys to experience "all the BS" in Hollywood in the challenges that day(?... week? This program is so bad I have lost any notion of how time is passing. For all I know, an electro-magnetic storm could have enveloped my home in negatively-charged energy and I could be traveling backward through time*)... I wonder if he's talking about the fact that someone with no discernable talent is labeled a celebrity and has people who appreciate empty lifestyles lining up to be his friend... That Hollywood BS?

*I am no physicist... I pretty much pieced words together there. If it makes no semblance of sense, I apologize.

Back from break #6- The elimination proceedings are in full force and SNBP claims that the two potential bros with thick New England accents have formed a clique. Insert dramatic music here. (Then insert a montage of all the different Boston accents you can think of. Then insert one of them as my replacement to view this show next week.) Things carry on, and the elimination is down to the Boston bros. It's like we're in the middle of a Damon-Affleck movie. The show ends with the loser being tossed out of the restaurant and losing his opportunity at "Bromance."

Little does he realize he now has a chance to actually do something with his life.

Your Stress Reliever

Guided imagery. Breathing deeply while counting to 10. Meditation... No, I'm not listing off the hobbies of those that don't have cable or Internet access, I am looking at ways to handle stress.

It's something we all deal with, whether it's related to work, school, or one's personal life. Some people have legitimate reasons to be stressed out, others can be thrown into a tizzy (please note: this is the first ever occurrence of the word "tizzy" in one of The Writings... mark it down. You can even print this to preserve this historic occasion.) by just about anything. Whether the source of the stress is worthwhile or not, everyone needs ways they deal with pebbles, stones, or boulders life might toss their way. Luckily, you now have this guide to all things stress relief. I'm searching the the farthest corners of the web (unless the web has no corners... crap) and presenting the positives and negatives of various stress reducers. After all, going on bender and headbutting car windshields won't make you feel any better (and might be frowned upon by the cops, too).


Self-hypnosis
I am getting sleepy... I am getting sleepy... Nope, I'm not reminiscing about an old economics class. I'm hypnotizing myself to relieve stress. According to one website, going Manchurian Candidate on yourself is an effective stress reducer.

Why it's good - Because it's SELF-hypnosis, you don't have to pay big bucks to some weirdo spinning a spiral-adorned umbrella.

Why it's bad - If you're like me, your mind tends to wander. Such can be disastrous when performing self-hypnosis. One minute, you're triggering your relaxation response; the next, you're singing a song that's been stuck in your head. The result? When your boss asks you to come to his office, you walk in belting out the lyrics to the Garfield and Friends theme song.


Meditation
This one seems close to self-hypnosis in my book... but not quite as creepy.

Why it's good - Have you ever seen someone meditate that seemed stressed while doing it? Exactly. Also, if the meditation doesn't take, it at least might lead into a nap.

Why it's bad - Again, minds wander. And personal silence isn't always golden... especially when you're someplace with thin walls.


Journaling
Writing down your thoughts, no matter what they might be... Seems like a crazy idea. I doubt I could bring myself to do it.

... Oh.

Why it's good - You can express whatever you'd like, no matter how absurd it might be. (See: Larson, The Writings of Derek).

Why it's bad - Well, if you're writing your own stuff, who is going to read this? Forget that I even mentioned this option.


Playing games
Whether it's Duck, Duck Goose or Duck Hunt (that's right, I'm old school), who doesn't love a good game?

Why it's good - Your options are broad. You can enjoy the camaraderie of friends with a game of touch football or can take quiet solitude while gunning down zombies on your X-Box. (Something tells me that any female readers might be struggling to grasp this point right now... The Writings - We really understand women.)

Why it's bad - If you aren't very good at the game and/or you're a poor loser, this can actually add stress. Don't try to convince the controller to eight-year-old Derek's Nintendo otherwise.


Laughter
Some say it's the best medicine... Others prefer antibiotics.

Why it's good - You're enjoying yourself.

Why it's bad - If you're a person that gets his/her kicks by punting puppies, socking war veterans in the nose, or eating all of one flavor out of someone's Neapolitan ice cream, you're probably doing more harm than good. I'd try something else.


Taking a walk
If you are reading this, you probably aren't taking a walk... Think about it.

Why it's good - You're getting exercise. Your cardiovascular system thanks you.

Why it's bad - Unless you really enjoy walking laps in your home, this one requires a bit of cooperation from Mother Nature. Unfortunately, she's not always the most accommodating lady. Walking in the rain can leave you sick. Walking in the heat can leave you in desperate need of a shower. Walking in the snow can leave you cursing the ice you slipped on.*

*This applies only if you have the balance of a manatee attempting to perform a nose-stand... Oh, odds are you won't curse the ice until after you have gotten back up really quickly and looked around to make sure no one saw you come crashing to the ground... Lousy ice!


Planting a garden
How does your garden grow? Hopefully quite contrary Mary's answer doesn't contain any curses.

Why it's good - You can see progress. What you plant as a seed can turn into something beautiful down the road.

Why it's bad - This is another case where you might be inviting more stress. Pesky varmints can leave you plants looking like the buffet at a sumo conference. Anything that leads to you shooting a shotgun out of your bedroom window at something 1/16 your size cannot be considered stress relief.


Reading a book
LeVar Burton would approve.

Why it's good - It can spark your imagination. It can be educational. It can be inspirational.

Why it's bad - Pages can get stuck together, causing involuntary rage. They can also cause wicked papercuts. It could also lead to people calling you egghead.


Squeezing a stress ball
Ooooh... squishy.

Why it's good - It's exercises hand muscles and relieves muscles tension.

Why it's bad - It's not very big, so you will misplace it at some point. Crawling underneath your desk in a vain attempt to locate your frog-shaped piece of foam rubber is not exactly conducive to slashing your stress level.


Well, nine strategies and 900+ words later, I guess it's pretty obvious which strategy I use to relieve my stress.


(No, not drinking.)

Things I Don't Understand - The quick-hitting edition

As I have mentioned before (and as you've probably ignored, as it really isn't relevant in many lives but my own) my cable package recently was upgraded. For just a few dollars more each month, I now have several new channels that I completely ignore.

One such channel I just noticed for the first time tonight.* It's called Planet Green.

*I realize that saying I "noticed" the channel goes against the mention of "ignoring" the channel... If you spend your free time checking continuity of various blogs, it may be time to search for a new hobby.**

**This coming from the guy who spent an evening writing about what he read on the back of old baseball cards... wow.

As you have probably guessed by now, the focus of the channel is being environmentally friendly, showcasing programs that provide tips on how to minimize one's negative impact on the Earth. (If you guessed incorrectly that Planet Green is a station attempting to revolution the TV industry by air all programs in nothing but differing shades of green, you may just want to begin keeping your guesses to yourself.)

Now, despite how I might try, I am admittedly not the environment's best friend. I have left lights unnecessarily, or left water running when it could have been turned off. (You can send your hate mail for such actions my way... It might be nice to get something other than bills.) Nevertheless, I have a problem with Planet Green. Isn't the whole concept of a "green" television network a bit hypocritical? After all, if one is truly "green" wouldn't they avoid energy-scarfing devices like TVs.

It seems like Planet Green would make more sense if it was presented as a traveling live-action performance. The performers' wardrobes would be made of fallen oak leaves, fallen pine needles, and recycled potato skins (comfortable... and a good snack). Also, those involved would travel from town-to-town by bicycle, tricycle, unicycle, car in neutral with no engine or battery (only recommend if on is traveling down a continual slope) or rickshaw.

If Planet Green must be aired on television, shouldn't those in charge only agree to provide programming to those whose homes are solar-or-wind-powered?* If not that, shouldn't every program just be people looking at the camera and solemnly saying "Turn off you TV. Please, do it now"?

*Homes powered by swarms of rodents running on wheels would be up for debate.

Then again, the channel did just feature Bill Nye (the science guy!) dressed up in a pirate costume that looks fractionally more realistic than the one I wore for Halloween as a six-year-old...

All is forgiven, Planet Green. Keep up the quality, eco-friendly, carbon-emission-free programming.

It's fantastic?

Eight days ago, the K-State Wildcats opened Big 12 conference play against the Oklahoma Sooners. Although the Sooners were ranked No. 6 in the nation, I fully expected Frank Martin's Wildcats - with their 11-3 non-conference record and some impressive perfomances along the way - to be in the game until the very end. In fact, I actually predicted an upset. (Granted, I see the world through Wildcat purple, Royal blue, or Chief red glasses depending on the season, so such upsets are predicted about as often as football announcers talk about Brett Favre or Tim Tebow.*) Such a victory, I thought, could be just the "signature win" that gives certain tournament selection committee that warm and fuzzy feeling at the end of the season.

*This statement is false. Nothing happens with the same frequency as football announcers discuss Favre or Tebow.

Five days ago, the Wildcats, now 0-1 in conference play, headed to Lawrence to face off with the defending national champions. (Wow, it really is painful to type that.) Although the Jayhawks normally have a distinct homecourt advantage, the fact remains that the squad on the floor this season is not near the talent level that KU had last season. Again, where others saw a problem for the Wildcats, I saw an opportunity. K-State could top this team, and I estimated that a win (combined with stellar play the rest of the way) could provide a good argument for the team receiving some love (of the platonic sort) when the postseason came around.

One day ago, the purple-clad crew from the Little Apple found themselves in the middle of corn-husking country. With the Wildcats sitting 0-2 in league play, some labeled the game a "must win" contest for the 'cats. Others might have called it a "can't lose" considering the fact that Nebraska lost to UMBC (that's University of Maryland, Baltimore County, not Utah's Morman Broadcasting Company) on their home floor just one month earlier. Winning this game had less to do with the postseason for K-State than it did with building some momentum, gaining some confidence, and avoiding some embarrassment. Alas, leaving the Devaney Center with a 22-point loss in the books had bizarro results for Kansas State.

Now, I'm not here to shout that the sky is falling*, or say that it's time to give up on the season. That would not fit well into the hokey optimism I normally attempt to employ. I do, however, know there are some issues that the Wildcats need to address, and address as soon as possible.

*Can you imagine if the sky was falling though? Yikes. I don't know if you've looked around much lately, but that thing seems to be everywhere. Try getting away from it.**

**Despite what you might hear from some broadcasters, neither Brett Favre or Tim Tebow would be able to escape if the sky was falling.***

***Odds are, if you present a broadcaster in question with this information, they'll attempt to tell you that Favre and Tebow are the ones who decided that the sky should fall.

One thing this team needs to find is an identity. When they have been at their best this season, the Wildcats have been an up-tempo, defensive-minded squad that rattled other teams so much that it seemed "fling the ball into the crowd" was an actual play in their playbook (which the opponents ran pretty well). Good defense led into quick scores on offense, and away the Wildcats went. Alas, although they have found success with this style, K-State seems to fight the notion with personnel, continually playing at least two and occasionally three "bigs" at a time.

This fondness for players who shop in the big-and-tall department could have been an advantage against the Huskers, who played much of the game with college basketball's version of the Lollipop Guild (no player taller than 6-5) on the floor. K-State's size should have made a difference on the interior. Instead, the post quartet combined for a total of 23 points and 14 rebounds (about an average game for one particular Wildcat post player a season ago).

Now, the lack of scoring productivity from the bigs cannot be heaped entirely on their shoulders. It's hard to have anyone score many points when your team turns the ball over 25 times. With K-State struggling to handle the quick, pesky Husker defense, an emphasis should have been placed on ball control - an area those on the upper end of the size spectrum aren't always known to have great prowess in. The question that then arises in my mind is why the Wildcats didn't attempt to adapt, sacrificing a big or two to get more talented ball handlers on the floor.

The Husker defense also did not do the Wildcats any favors when they proved that they had actually studied game film. Nebraska put little defensive pressure on Wildcats that have not proven themselves to be scoring threats this season, often backing away as if the ballhandler in question had some sort of uber-hybrid of leprosy, the plague, and cooties.* Unfortunately (especially since I'm confident other teams in the Big 12 study game film, as well, and will notice the effectiveness of this strategy), the K-State response was non-existent. There were no surges in aggressiveness from the essentially unguarded players and there were no real efforts to sub in others who might give the defense something more to think about. The result was Nebraska defenders free to run kamikaze.

*I am pretty confident no one in college basketball suffers from this affliction.

Of course, one might argue that it would not have mattered if K-State had (illegally, as far as I know) cloned the original Dream Team and had them running the court - shots just were not falling for those in purple. The fact that the Wildcats shot from long range with the accuracy of a cross-eyed sniper with his closed eye at the scope supports this claim. Whatever the case may be, K-State cannot afford many more nights of Saturday's perfect storm of ugly basketball.

Three days from now, the Wildcats return to the floor. Against the Baylor Bears, they will attempt to get the bad taste out of their mouths, right the ship, get back on the right foot, and perform many other cliched actions. While a game like the one against Nebraska may be enough to get one down, we at The Writings still have some hokey, unbridled optimism to pass around. The 'cats can win this game, and getting back in front of the home crowd may be just what they need.

"What if it's not?" you're asking.* What if the Baylor game, and the Colorado game after that, and the Missouri game, Texas game, Iowa State game, and all the rest go just as the Nebraska game did?

*Check the fine print, here at The Writings I am allowed to ask your questions for you.

Well...

27 days from now, Kansas City Royals picthers and catchers report to Spring Training. Then I can begin to funnel some hokey optimism their way, as well.

The written equivalent of a headache

Weeks ago, I thought I had things figured out. I started to get a bit of a cold, but tried a new (to me... it's not something I created in my bathtub) medication to combat such effects. The result? The symptoms were minimized and the duration was shorter than a bear fight on a beet farm* Naturally, when cold symptoms returned days ago, I put this medication back in my corner and expected a quick KO. Instead, the cold symptoms have battled back and are putting up a better fight than a pair of potbellied pigs after an opened bag of Cheetos.** Now my days are full of hacks, sneezes, and more sinus pressure than Snuffleupagus' trunk after an unfortunate Big Bird step.

Be warned, the following thoughts come from a cold-clouded mind.

*If you found this metaphor to be sensical in the slightest, you too can post your own Writings! (That, or I need to quit writing while watching "The Office.")

**I can't blame this one on The Office... but it's a funny picture, no? Crazy pigs.

- It seems that I missed out on the opportunity to meet "Subway Jared" today. That's right, my lifelong dream of receiving a quick and utterly pointless greeting from a guy who became a "celebrity" soley because he lost a ton of weight by eating mediocre sub sandwiches was thwarted... It's going to be tough to sleep tonight.

- It seems anything that leads to any sort of weight loss these days is marketed as the new miracle diet. There's the Subway diet, Atkin's diet, grapefruit diet, cookie diet, and so many others. Can it be long before we see the Windex diet or the Sucker-Punch Your Gut Away diet? In fact, I weigh the same as I did in high school... Can I market the Spend 94.6-percent of Your Free Time on Your Couch diet?

- I had not heard of this until now, but I think it's pretty hilarious. It's a Facebook application called the Whopper Sacrifice. If a Facebook user "unfriends" 10 "friends"* they get a coupon for a free Whopper. It really seems like a great way to figure out what you're worth to others. If you're unfriended for this promotion, you're worth approximately 1/10 Whopper, which really amounts to about a tomato slice, some lettuce, and a bit of the bun. What a great way to show people what they mean to you.
Despite the fact that I'm a bit of a BK connoisseur (which is probably the equivalent of claiming to be bilingual when one speaks English and pig-latin), I certainly would not drop 10 friends for a free Whopper.
... No, it's not because the promotion has been discontinued... Surely not.

- ... Mmmmmmm.... Whopper.

*Are all your Facebook friends (if you are, in fact, part of the Facebook community) actually people you'd consider friends? Can people who haven't spoken to each other since the time one told the other to quit glancing at his paper in high school accounting class even be considered friends? I would like to push for Facebook to extend its terminology to include more than just "friends." I want to be able to choose "acquaintances." Maybe I could label "people I might recognize in a public setting." Perhaps even "people who gave me the stinkeye." And don't we all want to select a few "enemies." C'mon Facebook, I'm not really Thomas Magnum's friend. Let me tell the community that he's a "fictional person whose comically hokey television show I watched an unhealthy amount while living in a town I grew to despise."

- Do you ever have to sorts through handfuls of gold coins just to find some change for the laundromat? Are you sick of ugly gold jewelry filling up your junk drawer when that space could be better used by rubber bands and dried-out pens from your local grocery store? Most everyone can relate to such hassles... but don't fret. You see, there's now a better use for that gold than putting it in tin cans to create maracas for your weekend mariachi band. One company will actually pay money for your gold. That's right, Ca$h for Gold USA (as seen on TV in a delightfully charming, entertaining, and informative ad) will pay you (in U.S. dollars!) for all that gold, which you previously deemed worthless. It's truly amazing what people will pay money for these days. Nevertheless, rest easy and save that trip to the dumpster... that gold Rolex, your chest of pirate booty, and even your wedding band are actually worth something.

- It's a good thing my computer does not have a sarcasm checker, or else the previous paragraph may have forced my computer into a catatonic state. Heaven knows it flirts with such action often anyway.

Things I Don't Understand - the January Garage Sale

After a thorough study of a 2009 calendar I received for Christmas, I have come to the conclusion that we currently sit (or stand, if you prefer) in the month of January. Recollection of past months bearing the same name, plus a few recent trips outside, have reminded me that, in Kansas, this first month of the year is usually a chilly one. With such thoughts in my head, I find a sight I noticed yesterday even more perplexing.

Driving along a side-street to my apartment I noticed a home with a smattering of tables out in front of it, all sheathed in a collections of trivial items. It seems the owner of the home was either having a garage* sale or some very organized burglars were cleaning the place out.

*Or "car-hole" if you run a tavern in Springfield.

I realize January 11 was an unseasonably warm day in my Midwestern home, but I still find the timing of the aforementioned sale mind-boggling.

You see, it seems that most garage sales involve premeditation. In my experiences with non-literal garage sales (I have never been a part of a literal garage sale... people usually prefer to have houses included in the deal), those serving at the merchant end prefer to plan the sale weeks ahead. That provides time to prepare and advertise. Such preparations normally lead the sales folk to plan Spring or Summer sales, so that the weather they encounter might be more conducive to outdoor activity. Planning a winter sale weeks ahead, hoping for an unseasonably pleasant day, is a bit of risky business. If the sellers missed out on the meteorological jackpot, they could have had Frosty's Kansas cousins (they're mentioned in the third part of the epic Frosty trilogy... believe me) taking cash and making sure no-one pick-pocketed anything.

These neighbors of mine seemed to have other ideas. They seized the sunny winter day, loaded rows of junk onto six-foot tables, and opened their brown-lawned superstore for business. I trust they were not dismayed by the fact that number of potential customers checking out the merchandise on their grassy plain was a particularly round one that rhymes with "hero." I'm also sure that they were not downtrodden by the fact that, on this January day when people don't expect a garage sale to take place (and during which people who choose to enjoy the weather probably won't do it by sifting through the used pogs and "Dole in '96" t-shirts of others), I may have very well sold as many belongings out of my second-story window (again, zero... believe it or not) as they did in their "organized" sale.

Maybe I'm missing the whole point. Maybe they had no choice but to get rid of loads and loads of random belongings. Perhaps their floors were threatening collapse from the burden of too much weight. Maybe they have dreamt premonitions of being robbed and losing everything and want to beat the larcenous fiends to the punch. Or maybe these folks just were not fortunate enough to receive a 2009 calendar for Christmas and didn't realize what month it was. Here's to hoping that any money they gained from it (maybe they found some spare change among the trivia) is used to get a new calendar.

A trip down memory lane... one cardboard rectangle at a time

Those who keep themselves occupied with multiple tasks at once are referred to as multitaskers. (Note: If you're already lost, this may not be the Writing for you) However, I have noticed that multitaskers are often seen as being productive sorts. I, on the other hand, often keep myself busy with multiple tasks that bear no semblance of anything that could be deemed productive. For instance, this very evening I am watching the BCS matchup between Oklahoma and Florida (it's the battle of the panhandles!), composing this very writing, and flipping through some old sports trading cards.

That's right, while some may have thought I would have run out of embarrassing hobbies to blog on by now, the hits (to other's opinions of me) just keep coming. As a kid, it seemed that any personal income brought in by various odd jobs all went toward the same thing: buying that next pack of cards. As I look back on it now, the obsession sounds nearly like a drug addiction. Cards were my fix. There was a brief period where I was even paid for some work I did in sports cards.

For a young sports-obsessed nerd (we all must come to grips with the truth at some point), they were perfect. I could collect my favorite players, have access to all sorts of stats that were otherwise extremely hard to find in the pre-Internet days, and - in special cases - get some interesting insight. Certain cards would have brief paragraphs detailing the player featured. While most would just delve into a further examination of statistics or mention the players skills, occasionally you would find one that was not quite like the others. It was like the copy writer for the card was attempting to spice things up just a bit. Naturally, the only way to really show the glory of these literary nuggets is to detail them case-by-case. Thus, with a box of cards by my side and the BCS Championship (a panhandler's delight!) on the tube, it's time to flip through some literary gold.

Darrin Jackson - Pinnacle 1995
"His thyroid condition all cleared up in 1994...," so begins the paragraph on Mr. Jackson's card. It's at this point that I wonder if this card is a promotional item from a hospital. Luckily, it does not delve into blood pressure or cholesterol. In fact, in a pleasant turn, it speaks of how Jackson was underrated. It ends with, "... he finally got his due in '94." I'm not sure how the folks at Pinnacle were granted the power to determine what someone's "due" was... but I'm glad Jackson's wasn't the thyroid condition.

Bo Jackson - Score 1991
You remember the "Bo Knows" commercials? Bo knows football. Bo knows baseball. Bo knows dominating in Tecmo Super Bowl. Well, according to Score, Bo also knew intergalactic dominance. After all, this card claims Bo was "the greatest athelete in the universe." One might think calling him the "best athlete on Earth" would have been a strong enough claim... but not the folks at Score. They were making sure any those folks who claim to have been abducted by aliens knew exactly where Bo ranked.
"Sure, they may have beamed you aboard and done some probing, but let's see them beat Bo in a foot-race!"

Gregg Jefferies - Score 1991
According to a GM on an NL rival, you could "... almost smell the love of the game reeking all over..." Jeffries. I think folks with BO have a new excuse.
"Uh, Jim, did you shower today."
"Don't worry. That's just my love of the game."
"What game? We work at Kinkos."
"It's cool, man. I just love what I do."
"So your love smells like gym socks that have been left in the backseat of a car in the middle of the summer?"


Tunch Ilkin - Pro Set 1991
According to this card, Ilkin's mom was Miss Turkey in 1950... I know offensive linemen don't receive much press, but for Pete's sake. They resorted to mentioning his mother on his football card.

Tracy Jones - Score 1992
"... Tracy also gets hurt a lot..."
Score - when the truth hurts, we're there.

Paul Farren - Pro Set 1991
"... Longshot to make pros..."
C'mon, I know the Browns only went 3-13 in 1990, but they were still considered "professionals." That's low, Pro Set.

Mike Davis - Donruss 1990
List in his "Career Highlights" section: "Is cousin of former AFL defensive back Dave Grayson." Funny, I just completed a self-evaluation at work. Are you telling me I could have just listed my relatives and been good to go? I tried to think of actual accomplishments and all I needed to do was say that my third cousin was an extra in Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties?*

*No, not true.

Ricky Bones - Studio 1992
Although I was oblivious to it as a 10-year-old, it seems obvious now that Studio was not only a baseball card company, but a dating service. It makes sense. After all, who has time to "play the field" when you're playing on the baseball field 162 games each season. The back of Ricky's card mentions that he's single, and that his hobbies are "weight lifting, horseback riding, and jet skiing." Here's to hoping he found happiness.

Glenn Braggs - Score 1992
While Studio was looking to hook folks up, it seems that someone at Score may have been nearing a restraining order. Glenn's summary includes the fact that he has an "awesome build" and that he "would rate well against any of the other strong men in the game." ... Uhh, Score, we're still talking about baseball, right?

Larry Johnson - Skybox 1995-1996
We close with a bit of unintentional (hopefully) demotivation. The card says "Standing 6-2 in the seventh grade, LJ was later named by his high school classmates 'Most Likely to Succeed.'" In other words, "Hey short kids, give up now."


The Writings, interpreting hidden basketball card messages since 2009.

Observations --- That's all

The holidays are over and that can only mean one thing: someone, somewhere is pretty upset that the antlers they super-glued to their dog's head are not coming off as easily as they'd hoped. Blasted glue!

... Wait, that's not it. No, the end of the holiday season means I no longer have an excuse for neglecting The Writings. It's time to get back to my routine schedule of posting. (read: posts will once again be sporadic and erratically inconsistent... You're relieved, I'm sure) Anyway, consider this as the first step in getting back on the right track.

- The holiday break did provide a few additions to my ever-expanding list of things that are "awww"-inspiringly cute when done by an infant, but "alert the authorities" awkward if done by anyone else. New entries include: chewing on someone else's finger, yelling random untelligible nonsense during church, and lying in the middle of the floor on one's belly and swinging arms and legs as if swimming.

- Can someone explain to me the concept behind waiting in Times Square for 11 hours to ensure that you have a good spot to see the ball drop on New Year's? You know exactly what's going to happen. The ball drops. People cheer. Then you probably have to wait another 11 hours just to catch a cab to get back to your hotel. Sure, those folks might argue that it's no different than waiting hours to see a sporting event. Unfortunately for them, those folks would be wrong. With a sporting event, there's uncertainty. You don't know the outcome, which adds excitement and, in turn, can make the end result expontially more satisfying (or frustrating). (A sporting event also lasts longer than 10 seconds.) When that ball drops, the only uncertainty is whether an inebriated guy in the crowd will get slapped for trying to get a smooch from a random female.

- Note to iTunes: you may claim to have a "Genius" feature, but the fact that you recommend I download New Kids on the Block's "Hangin' Tough" makes me wonder if someone read your IQ test results wrong. That, or the program's artificial intelligence has developed understanding of sarcasm... Touche.

- Despite our best fundraising efforts, we at The Writings were not able to land sponsorship for a bowl game this football season. (Who would have guessd you actually have to have "funds" to sponsor?) Although our dream went unfulfilled, the fact that Emerald Nuts sponsors a bowl game gives us hope for the future. Look for The Writings Pointless Drivel Bowl next football season.

- It's nice to see that Magic Johnson has an instructional basketball DVD set on the market. It's good that he's out to help the kids. The children are our future, after all... That said, it strikes me as comical that the DVD set includes a bonus conditioning disc. Why? First of all, anyone that considers conditioning to be a "bonus" is a few rebounds shy of a triple-double.* Second, it's rather apparent that Magic has packed on a couple pounds since his playing days. The aforementioned disc might be serving as a "bonus" coaster around his place.

*If you are not a sports fan, I apologize profusely for the basketball reference. It must be frustrating to continually read about things you have no interest in. If you'd like to send me the latest issue of Guns & Ammo, Good Housekeeping, or Cat Fancy that you might be reading, feel free to send it my way.

- Whether or not you've seen the advertisements for the Snuggie there's no denying that the tagline ("The Blanket With Sleeves!") is frighteningly accurate. It's also much more pleasant than the only other option: "The top cult robe on the market. Drink the Kool-Aid and buy one today!"

- If you ever find yourself in a situation where you think you might appear foolish to those around you, feel free to picture me scrunched over in my car's driver seat at a local drive-thru, straining to reach down through a slightly cracked door, attempting to nab my debit card off the ground after it was dropped there by the employee working the drive-thru window. See, you don't look like a fool. ... Oh, and thanks, fast food employee.

- I recently upgraded my cable package. Now, before you get out your Jump
to Conclusions Mat I must dispel any notions that I have recently
earned a startling increase in income, inherited great sums from a rich distant relative, or discovered buried treasure while attempting to build a
snow fort. No, my splurging for these additional opportunities to rot
my mind came about simply because I was presented with deal worthy of much rejoicing. (Hooray! ... That should cover it.) Naturally, there's a catch. After six months the "excellent
deal" evaporates and I have an "excellent burden" on my checkbook.
Thank goodness for the word "cancellation." Anyway, with a bevy of new
channels to flip through, I'm presented with a myriad of programs fit
for mockery and the like. You can certainly expect a detailed study of
such in the future.

2008 - The year that was (because if it wasn't, we'd be in a pickle) -- Part two

At long last (after two whole days!), it's the second part of The Writings second-annual year in review. We here at The Writings beg your forgiveness for making this a two-part entry. I'm not one to normally point fingers, but all ten of my hand digits are pointing at my personal assistant.

What's that? I don't have one?

Then blame the intern.

No intern either? What type of shoddy organization is this?

Oh well. Lack of anyone to provide the author with a semblance of organization aside, 2009 has officially arrived. What lies ahead? Who knows. Maybe an army of cloned cycloptic gorillas will invade the western seaboard. I hear they're fans of the nice temperatures and fresh seafood.

Dastardly primates and 2009 events aside, we still have 2008 business to attend to. Particularly, picking up where we left off in part one of what many critics (me, when I was half-asleep) have called the most comprehensive summation of a year's events ever conjured.

--------------------

September 2008-
The 2008 presidential race hit high gear, as both major party's national conventions were completed by early September. The one-on-one battle led to a bevy of campaign ads hitting the television commercial breaks. As both candidates attempted to prove the other was not fit to be president (you know, rather than just saying why they should be) little was held back. Leading up to the election, reasons cited may or may not have included:
- candidate x is too old;
- candidate x is an elitist;
- candidate x is a muslim;
- candidate x is too hot-headed;
- candidate x was sent here from another planet to bring the destruction of our society and pave the way for Jupiterians to raid Earth;
- candidate x eats puppies when he's feeling blue;
- candidate x once starred in an adult film under the stage name Randy Pheeling;
- candidate x wears white after Labor Day;
- candidate x enjoys the movie Slam Dunk Ernest.

October 2008-
On October 15 the inaugural Global Handwashing Day took place. As one should be able to infer from the day's name, the event promoted washing hands around the globe to prevent disease.

I understand the importance of this in nations that may not be as well off as ours, but I'm hoping it's not just a one day celebration for those here in the states... Especially the folks at the Burger King down the block.

November 2008-
History was made with the presidential election, but the event probably deserves a recap by someone who doesn't occasionally refer to professional wrestling in his writing.

In other news, Ron Prince was informed that he'd be welcome back at Bill Snyder Family Stadium in 2009... as long as he had a ticket. With Prince no longer leading the program, it was time to scour the nation to find fresh talent to take over... or time to go and ask the guy down the hall if he was interested in coming back. Coaching legend Bill Snyder accepted the position by the end of the month, and since that time has assembled a coaching staff that gives the program immediate hope. Granted, starting quarterback Josh Freeman has decided that he prefers earning paychecks to cracking textbooks, but there's still an excitement around the upcoming season that has not been present for a few years.

Only 246 days until the season opener.

December 2008-
Children everywhere were disappointed when Santa Claus' sleigh was side-swiped as he tried to parallel park in New York. Santa was not injured, but the sleigh was damaged and rendered inoperable, meaning tikes around the globe went toyless for the holidays. Although he was unavailable for comment, word is that Santa has vowed revenge on the hit-and-run driver, and will spend the year collecting coal that will be used to bombard the offenders house next Christmas eve.

Remember kids, the lyrics "so be good for goodness sake" aren't just a hokey suggestion. They're an order.

Don't cross the Claus.

2008 - The year that was (because if it wasn't, we'd be in a pickle) -- Part one

As I write this, we are mere hours away from bidding adieu to the year 2008. What does this new year really mean?

It means calendars everywhere will be rendered obsolete.

It means millions of people will waste valuable seconds correcting themselves when they accidentally write or type 2008 instead of 2009; seconds they could be using to read some Writings... and then close their web browsers in either disgust or confusion.

It also means that you will see "year in review" articles and programs just about everywhere you look. They will be more prevalent than awkward conversations with people you barely know during a trip to the local market. You will see so many rehashes of 2008 that you'll feel like you've gone ventured to the past in a time-traveling phone booth (or a Delorean, if you prefer). By the time February hits, you'll be so sick of hearing about 2008 that you'll consider holding Punxsutawney Phil hostage to get the madness to end.

With that said, I really can't think of a better segue into the second-annual The Writings Year in Review.*

*Editor's note: We at The Writings do not condone groundhognapping.


January 2008-
The year started off in fine fashion for the author, along with thousands of others that bleed purple. (Figuratively, not literally. I do not know whether my blood type is B-positive or O-negative, but I do know that it's not "O-crap-how-did-my-blood-get-this-color"). On January 30, the K-State Wildcats topped the Kansas Jayhawks at Bramlage Coliseum, marking the first time such an event had ever occurred. It was a magical night in the Little Apple, as Michael Beasley led the 'cats to the 84-75 victory.

February 2008-
Daniel Day-Lewis wins an Academy Award for his uncanny ability to make the idea of drinking milkshakes both comical and creepy at the same time. There Will Be Blood was nominated for eight Academy Awards, but received no recognition for Best Alternate Title - There Will Be a Long, Long Story About Drilling for Oil... Make Sure You Visit the Restroom Beforehand.

March 2008-
India defeats Australia in cricket to win the Commonwealth Bank Series. The American reaction is dizzying. Millions blink in response. Others offer confused looks and ask the nearest person how people can train crickets to play sports.

April 2008-
The NFL Draft took place, and popular opinion was that the Kansas City Chiefs were one of the most successful teams in selecting draft picks over the two-day period. Eight months later, 14 losses would prove that popular opinion means about as much as a bit of catnip in a tiger attack. In effort to properly demonstrate cause-and-effect relationships to young fans, the Chiefs also traded defensive end Jared Allen (15.5 sacks in 2007). They ended the 2008 season by setting an NFL record for fewest sacks by a team in a season (10).

May 2008-
May lasted 31 days, as is custom.

... What? That's not news?

Also, the Phoenix lander arrived at Mars... unfortunately, minutes after landing, it remembered that it had left the front door unlocked at home.

June 2008-
Ice landed yet another blow in the ongoing conflict with the author, cracking his windshield in the midst of a severe hailstorm. Attempts to strike back by the author were rendered moot when grocery store personnel prevented him from unplugging all the freezers in the frozen food aisle.

... jerks.

July 2008-
A trip across America's northern border was largely uneventful until news arrived that the author was officially an uncle. While ideas of hitchhiking back to Kansas as quickly as possible were considered, responsibility won the battle and the new uncle waited until his work was done before heading homeward. Upon being introduced, the newest addition to the family turned the author into putty in her diminutive hands in approximately 0.7 seconds.

August 2008-
The NFL preseason began and the every third word spoken by NFL broadcasters was some form of "Favre." It was like every sportscaster had come down with some sort of wacked-out version of Tourette's syndrome. Unconfirmed reports (made up by me) even said that the NFL was considering changing the name of the sport it competes in from football to Favreball.


--------------------------

Alas, outside forces* will not allow me to complete the year in review in one Writing. Stay tuned for part two.

*Outside forces include - but may not be limited to - deciding on New Year's Eve plans with seven-and-a-half hours left in the the current calendar year. Who says I don't plan ahead?

Holiday Thoughts

Thoughts while trying to convince myself that frustratingly lengthy waits at fast food drive-thru windows are not signs of a crumbling society. (A 10-minute wait for a few tacos? Aaaaaahhhhhhh!)

-Whoever wrote the lyrics to "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" certainly did not conjure them while risking his or her neck trying to survive a trip through their local mall parking lot on the Saturday before Christmas. After all, there's no muffled cursing in the song. 

-Does it make any sense whatsoever that eggnog became associated with winter holidays? Forgive me, but drinking this concoction that sounds as if it was created by a very confused farmer does not bring to mind thoughts of manger miracles or jolly old St. Nick. (Unless the drink is the reason Santa has a weight problem.)

-I can't figure out why the word "merry" is only used in holiday speak. Have you ever used the word "merry" in a conversation that was not linked to Christmas? If so, odds are you got a funny look for your efforts. You know, the same look you get if you suggest that The Love Guru marks the height of cinematic comedy or that rabid guinea pigs will be the next big thing in American pets. (Take that, dogs so small you can fit them in handbags!)

-Of all the arctic animals, why were reindeer chosen as Santa's beasts of burden? Wouldn't arctic terns have made a lot more sense? They actually have the wings to fly. (However, it would probably take quite a few of them to pull a sleigh, so any rhymes list all their names would be pretty lengthy...) If they were sold on taking the land mammal route, why choose the reindeer ahead of other options? They didn't think "Cleburne the red-nosed caribou" would catch on?

A Little Bit of This...

- Some might say that a laptop that takes 44 seconds to pull up iTunes after the desktop icon is double-clicked has seen better days and probably needs to be replaced. I just like to think that my laptop is putting sincere thought into it's actions. ("Now he double-clicked iTunes... Does that means he wants to open the program, or he simply wants to remind me that it's there? I know he uses the program to listen to music, and he currently has no other sound occupying his living quarters... Hmmm... I bet he wants it open... Now what's the safest way to do that?)

- Some also might say that I have too much time on my hands when I'm giving my aging laptop a voice and conjuring up things it might say... Touché.

- Months ago, before my precious little niece had been provided the opportunity to introduce two members of my family to the joy of parenting, I wrote an entry on baby names. I tried to consider a number of different options for possible monikers and may have even given a suggestion or two. Oddly, I failed to address the possibility of naming the newborn after the leader of Nazi Germany. How did I miss that one? Apparently a couple in New Jersey took that very route three years ago, and now has a little trouble getting a customized birthday cake. Granted, I'm no parent, but the idea of naming your own kin after one of the most evil people in history seems just a bit off. (In the same way the idea of giving yourself a haircut with a lawnmower is just a bit crazy.) I'm hoping someone has the decency to give this kid a (non-obscene) nickname he go by when he makes it to school. 

- When it comes to advertising, truth always seems to be in question. I know I tend to get a little skeptical whenever before and after photos are shown on weight loss ads. (Especially when the before and after pictures feature individuals of significantly different skin tones and facial features. Either that diet features some skin morphing nutrients or there's something fishy going on.) With this in mind, there's one ad that just caught my attention. The commercial in question advertises it's product as being the only one that provides permanent hair restoration. It would be easy (and probably smart) to make such claims and then show a bunch of guys with full heads of hair. Yet, this commercial features a balding man speaking of his hair being permanently restored... Either the guy was born with a pretty wicked widow's peak, or he's lying through his teeth (which seemed to be pretty white. Perhaps he was just taking the wrong commercial product).

- I have never undstood the idea of opening a movie on Christmas. Are there that many people that say, "I know how we should celebrate... Let's hop in our cars, drive for miles, stand in lines, pay absurd prices for tickets and snacks, and then sit in a theater where we'll spend half the movie being annoyed by other theater-goers and complaining about the sticky floors"? Or is it those that don't celebrate Christmas that they're counting on, thinking they'll catch a flick while a large number of folks are unwrapping gifts that leave them overwhelmingly excited or cripplingly disappointed?

- I have noticed that Dangerous Minds has been on MTV a staggering amount lately (sorry, I flip through the channels as if it was an obsessive compulsive tic). Does this mean Coolio is becoming hip again? Or does the film just strike those at MTV as a holiday film? At last check, Gangsta's Paradise had not been added to holiday radio stations... yet. It seems pretty simliar to Paul McCartney's Wonderful Christmastime.

- I actually just wanted an excuse to link to the Wonderful Christmastime video... Any video that can combine cheezy video effects, a synthesizer, and an inexplicable explosion is a winner in my book.

- Afer a bit of thought, I don't really understand the phrase "in my book." Sure, I own a lot of books, but none of them categorize what ridiculous traits I find comical to see in a music video... and if I were to write such a book, it seems that it would be rather short, and I doubt it would sell. Feel free to cross out "in my book" in the previous bullet point.

- If you did get out a marker and cross out "in my book" as it appeared on your screen, I'm extremely sorry... I owe you some computer screen cleaning solution.

- Think Planet of the Apes is completely fictional? Think again. If you live near a zoo, I'd invest in some better home security.

Holiday Fiction

What follows is a fiction story that I actually began a couple years ago. Lacking direction and - quite possibly - motivation, I moved on to other exciting ways to spend my free time like seeing how many peanuts I can stack on top of each other (answer: two) and attempting to solve the universal mystery of missing socks (mission: impossible). I haven't written any fiction in a long time, so I recently set a goal of finishing the story before this Christmas.

Is it finished now? Yeah, I guess... Although I'm not sure spacing two years between writing sessions is recommended practice in the world of writing fiction. It may be a bit disjointed (but some might argue that is fitting, considering the author). If nothing else, hopefully there's at least a chuckle in it. (And if there's not, you can at least say you're "being green" by not printing it off.*)

*The Writings: We're here for the environment

--------------------------------------

“I waaaaant a Playstation 3!”

The young lad on Santa’s lap was making his case for one of the season’s uber-expensive video game systems in the most convincing way he knew. With his sandy hair sticking out everywhere like a threatened puffer fish and his nose dripping like a faulty showerhead, the youngster gradually increased the volume and pitch of each syllable of his request, leaving the long-‘e’ in “3” sounding like a weapon of sound warfare.

Darren Orfelder, a 17-year-old admittedly years removed from belief in Santa Claus or Christmas miracles, cringed at the vocal talents of the baritone-ly challenged, wannabe gamer. To Darren, Christmas meant droves of noisy, mannerless, germ-ridden children converging on one single spot, and it was a spot Darren could not avoid. After all, Darren was an elf.

Granted, he was only one of Santa’s elves in the same way that Tobey Maguire was a superhero or Daniel Radcliffe was a wizard – he got paid to dress up and pretend – but when Black Friday arrived and Santa’s Village opened, Darren’s attitude strayed far from what one might expect from an associate of jolly old St. Nicholas. A perpetual frown lingered on his mug and his eyes rolled more than the dice in an average game of Monopoly.

“Santa’s Village” was located in the midst of the Center Town Center Shopping Center, but that did not keep the migraine-inducing echo of youthful tantrums from resonating throughout the crudely built set. Darren had often mocked the puffs of cotton that passed as snow and the backdrop of Santa’s “workshop” – a structure that had been a collection of shipping boxes just weeks earlier.

“With a voice like that, the kid should be asking for an early puberty,” Darren said under his breath… at least that was the volume he intended. The wide-eyed look from “Santa” and the cold-glare from the tike’s mother told a different story.

“Okay, smile big,” Darren quickly said, pointing at the camera set up in front of the cardboard creation meant to be Santa’s North Pole sweatshop in an attempt to divert attention away from his verbal miscue. He had found that quick-witted remarks were a fine way to deal with the seemingly demonic transformation some children made when meeting Santa. “Mommy’s little angel” quickly became the spawn of something under-worldly when he-or-she had the chance to request what might be under the Christmas tree, and a well-place barb was usually a fine way to deal with such nuisances… but he usually managed to keep them to himself.

As the disgusted mother pulled her youngster off Kris Kringle’s lap, and the little hellion simply asked, “Mom, what’s pooberdy?” Darren began to wonder if he had gotten a little careless lately. It was the third time that week that he had made a parent visibly angry. Should he just suck it up and do his job? Such thoughts vanished like Frosty in the Sahara when he remembered how, two days prior, he’d told a kid dressed in a tacky sweater that he should ask for “new fashion sense for mommy.” He had quite a laugh about that one when he went home that night.

“You aren’t the real Santa,” a chubby kid who looked to be nearing a baker’s dozen of birthdays said. “The real Santa’s cheeks are rosy.” Darren drifted back from his daydreaming and simply shook his head at the little Chris Farley clone’s statement. The tubby preteen had nailed it – this was not really Santa Claus, although the lack of pinkish hue in the man’s cheeks seemed to be an odd way to justify the statement.

This Santa’s real name was Roy Howard. Roy was a retired bus driver who worked as Center Town Center’s Kris Kringle for two main reasons.

First, he had the build for it. Retirement from driving a Center Elementary bus was “strongly encouraged” by the local school board after Roy had picked up three hitchhikers while driving a busload of third graders back from the Larkville History Museum. The simple act of stopping the bus to pick up the three men who were caked with more dirt than most harvested carrots was severely frowned upon, but the fact the one of them was wearing a t-shirt reading “If you can read this, can I see your cans?” was the tipping point. In the three years since “retiring” Roy had eaten enough food to feed a small, starving nation and consumed enough alcohol to keep the Olympic Torch burning through multiple iterations of the quadrennial event. As a result, a festively plump belly hung over his belt, and also provided a respectable dinner tray when sitting down (which he definitely preferred over the strenuous nature of standing). To top off the look, Roy could grow a napkin-white beard, and he was glad to do it. Who wanted to waste time shaving anyway?

The second reason Roy held steady employment as Mr. Claus was simple. Roy’s brother-in-law, Rex Bicksley, managed Center Town Center and kept Roy employed during the holiday season as a favor to Leeann – Rex’s sister and Roy’s wife.

“All right, Santa’s got to go feed the reindeer,” Roy said gruffly as he shuffled a young pig-tailed girl off his lap. In Roy’s Santa lingo, “feed the reindeer,” meant a 15-minute break to run to the john and then puff on a cigarette. Before being employed as one of Santa’s helpers, Darren had often heard the stereotype of mall Santas and their questionable character and hygiene, but he had not seen it perpetuated in the flesh… until Roy. Naturally, Roy scratched himself in inappropriate places as he heaved himself out of Santa’s chair and waddled off in the direction of the men’s restroom.

Roy’s break meant Darren and the other elves had to keep the assembled adolescents entertained while waiting in line. Granted, some seemed perfectly at peace spinning in circles until they were dizzy or trying to figure out what exactly was up their noses, but such ideas would fade soon, just as his job satisfaction had during his first week of employment. He was in his third holiday season of “elfing”, and had reached the point where he hated each day a little more than the one before it. The only reason he kept coming back was that he really needed the holiday cash, and the idea of putting in hours physical labor at a Christmas tree farm was one Darren ranked just above having all his teeth pulled by a near-sighted dentist.

“Who wants a candy cane?” Darren yelled with the enthusiasm one might expect from someone who had been screamed at, kicked, sneezed on and mocked by an assortment of youngsters in the two hours he had already worked that day. As soon as Darren mentioned candy he was mobbed by a swarm of tiny, grubby hands reaching into his bucket for a bit of the sugar-rush inducing bits of goodness inside.

“So this is the holiday spirit?” Darren thought. Here he was, a high school junior wearing a green felt cap, fake rubber ears, and tights that would make any male question his own masculinity, all to make these kids happy and grab a few bucks on the side. In return, he got one hundred sticky hands pushing and shoving to get a crook-shaped candy stick from a tin pail, and not a single thank-

“Orfelder, a minute of your time, please.”

This was not a voice Darren was accustomed to hearing. Nor one he anticipated. As he handed his candy bucket to a fellow helper, he turned and saw Mr. Bicksley himself standing before him. A lumped formed in his throat with the speed and urgency of used car salesman’s sales pitch. He’d been face-to-face with the mall manager just three times before – all when Bicksley would annually greet the season’s crop of Santa’s Village occupants. A one-on-one powwow with the suit-adorned executive was not common. In fact, the only people Darren knew who had spoken with Mr. Bicksley during their mall employment had been seeking new employment when it came time to recall said encounters.

The lump in Darren’s throat grew.

“Orfelder,” Mr. Bicksley begin, putting his hand on Darren’s shoulder and leading him away from the crowd, “We’ve had some complaints. Granted, it’s perfectly normal to get complaints, especially when you’re dealing with kids and their parents. Unfortunately, these complaints have all had one thing in common…”

“They’re a waste of your time,” was what Darren might normally say. Alas, Darren was far from his normal mindset. He knew exactly where this conversation was going.

The lump in Darren’s throat was now so large, he felt as if a second head might come bursting through his neck. Maybe this one would know when to keep his mouth shut.

“Every complaint we’ve had lately has been focused on one employee,” Bicksley said. “They’re all complaining about you.”

Although he knew it was true, Darren’s head still hung in shame at the statement. He was devastated. He had been long convinced that he hated his job, but now, with his employment seemingly at an end, he was terrified. Sweat drizzled down from his brow and his hands shook slightly. He knew a damning sentence was coming.

“You’ve been with us for awhile, and you seem like a good kid,” Bicksley continued, “but we can’t accept this type of behavior. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to-“

“Giv’em a break, Rexy.”

Fresh from his “reindeer feeding” chores, Roy appeared out of seemingly nowhere (an impressive feat for a man his size), and joined the conversation. “The kid didn’t do anything wrong.” It seemed that Roy had overheard the entire conversation.

“Are you suggesting that telling a young child with thick glasses that he should ask for laser eye surgery is acceptable behavior from our staff?” Bicksley asked, his eyes sharp at this man who had married his sister.

“Not at all,” Roy replied, his hands resting comfortably on his sizable belly. “But why blame him for spitting out my ideas?”

Darren looked up quickly. He hadn’t said a word since Mr. Bicksley had approached him, but now he was truly speechless. This red-clad oaf who had often seemed concerned about nothing more than satisfying his craving for nicotine was taking the blame for his misbehavior.

“You’re saying you told him to say all of this?” Bicksley countered. “You realize you’re out of a job if this is true.”

“I’m as serious as Rudolph’s nasal condition.” Though it was an odd response, Roy emphasized it by flinging his hat to the Town Center floor. His days as Santa were done.

Bicksley stared at the red cap on the floor, as if reflecting on its implications. Firing Roy would not only leave them without a Santa for the rest of the day, but it could make an upcoming Christmas dinner pretty awkward. Nonetheless, he had a reputation to uphold. “That’s it, you’re gone,” Bicksley said, looking up and straightening his suit jacket. He turned and began to walk away, now talking over his shoulder. “I want the suit back by the end of the week.”

“You’ll have it long before then,” Roy replied, struggling to unbutton and remove his Santa coat. “I’m sick of this stupid thing anyway.”

While Roy focused on removing his crimson coat, Darren attempted to come to terms with what had just happened. A swarm of thoughts buzzed in his head. Finally, one became verbalized.

“What the heck are you doing?”

“These damn buttons,” Roy mumbled in reply. “I always struggle with this friggin’ coat.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why did you go and get fired for things I did?” Darren’s sense of confusion began to shift to anger. “You know you didn’t have anything to do with the stuff I said. You’ve been the jolly fat guy here for as long as I can remember, and you’re throwing it away to save my job? What’s this time of year for you if you can’t waste it wearing that suit?”

Roy’s hands quit fiddling with coat buttons. His arms dropped to his sides, and his pasty bearded face was quickly painted with a strikingly earnest look.

“The season ain’t about the suit, son. You come in every day looking like someone served you breakfast from a litter box. I understand if you get fed up with some of the highly visible elements of Christmas – the commercialization and the selfishness that can follow – but you shouldn’t get caught up thinking that’s the reason for the holiday.”

Unbelievably, Roy’s spiel was actually making sense. Up until this point, the only holiday talking points Darren had heard Roy mentioned dealt with torching gremlins, walking barefoot across shards of broken glass, and other elements drawn from movies that were loosely associated with the holiday season.

Darren glanced around the mall. He no longer saw screaming children with clammy hands or their grouchy parents looking to push down others to get their way. Instead, he saw families enjoying their time together. He saw people holding doors open for others and helping with dropped shopping bags.

He looked back to Roy to express his appreciation, but Roy was gone. On the floor, next to his cap laid Roy’s Santa coat, all buttons finally undone. A few feet down the hall sat one black leather boot, it’s large buckle unlatched. A few feet further away lay the other. It seemed that Roy hadn’t lied about returning the suit. Darren cringed at the thought of Roy walking the mall in his underwear. Following the scattered trail of Kringle attire, Darren noticed a figure now halfway down the corridor. It was a hefty man, trudging away, adorned in nothing but a pair of red pants, a large black belt, socks, and a raggedy undershirt.

“Thanks,” Darren yelled his direction.

Roy responded with a chuckle. “Merry Christmas,” he yelled. “Now I’ve got to work on this belt buckle.”

Thought for the Day - Amazon Kindle

In effort to avoid the crowded parking lots, thrown elbows, and general chaos that come with Christmas shopping, I'm doing my best to take care of at least a fraction of my holiday gift searching via the World Wide Web. In doing so, I have noticed that amazon.com is doing all they can to advertise the Kindle this holiday season.

What is the Kindle? It's an electronic reading device that kind of looks like an oversized version of one of those old Tiger Electronics handheld games. Unfortunately, the Kindle doesn't seem to be using Bo Jackson as a celebrity endorser.

While I have never used a Kindle, the big draw seems to be the ability to instantly have access to hundreds of thousands of downloadable books. You can also access top newspapers and magazines, all on this glorified Gameboy.

I have no direct issues with the Kindle itself, as I support all forms of literacy (well, maybe not all forms). After all, if everyone was illiterate, these Writings would be kind of pointless. It would be a guarantee that no one was reading (rather than just a highly probable situation).

My issue with the Kindle is the way Amazon is advertising it. They list the product as their "Wireless Reading Device," and also tout it's portability. Hmmm... a reading device that is portable and has no wires... I think I might have one of those already... Maybe even two or three... shelves full.

That's right Amazon, it seems that books -the very paper products the Kindle is lookng to replace - are also portable and involve no wires whatsoever. It also seems that most books cost less than the Kindle's $359 price tag.

The product overview states that the Kindle's screen "reads like real paper." Funny... so do book pages.

The Kindle also involves "no computer, no cables, no syncing." If my books do, I'm missing the instruction manuals.

It seems to me that it would be more effective advertising all the reading choices available at a moment's notice and the ease of use, rather than stessing that it's portable and wireless. After all, my socks are portable and wireless, but you don't see me bragging.

Alas, it seems the advertising quirk is doing little to thwart the fun with e-words product, as it's currently sold out. Apparently a lot of people out there (meaning people not currently sitting with my laptop on my couch while watching a K-State basketball game) aren't quite as picky as I am when it comes to pointless details.

... Imagine that.

Another Evening with Ms. Sony

I just saw a television commercial for a prescription drug during which the following message flashed on the bottom of the screen: "See our ad in Home Cooking magazine.*" Is this really the best way to get people interested in your product? By giving them an assignment? Such ridiculousity** seems like an excellent start to yet another evening with Ms. Sony.

*Magazine name changed to protect the innocent... or because I can't remember it.

**It can be a real word if enough people accept it.

7 p.m. - CBS
It's time for Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, old-school style... Or at least the audio of it. Channel 4 on my television currently seems to be lacking a video feed. How long can one man stare at a blank television as the audio of Rudolph plays through the speakers... Sounds like a challenge.

7:01
This is kind of nice... must be like what life was like when people had to rely on the radio for broadcast entertainment.

7:02
Okay, apparently my eyes have some form of ADD, and I don't think this Pepsi sitting on my coffee table is helping anything. In a desperate attempt to find some sort of activity, they've now focused on the blinking light on my cable modem.

7:03
Whoa, look at that light go!

7:05
What's that? The video feed is back... and with that, my interest is gone.

7:09 - NBC
The Kansas Jayhawks are playing against New Mexico State University. Have I ever mentioned how much I love NMSU? No? Well, I've obviously never written while they've been competing against KU. Kansas is currently up six, the announcers are expressing their man-love for a certain Jayhawk, and I kind of feel like seeing how long I can keep my hand inside the toaster to divert my attention... Better change the channel.

7:15 - WGN
It's The Nutcracker... on ice! Obviously, given my history with frozen water, don't approve of the programming. I also don't understand why putting something "on ice" makes it infinitely more watchable to some people. Ice skating provides pretty much the same maneuverability as rollerblading, yet you don't hear about tickets being sold for The Nutcracker... at Ray's Roller Rink!

7:18 - CBS
When the creators of Rudolph made the young reindeer into the equivalent of an awkward teenager, I like to think they did it to give viewers something to relate to. If anyone reading this is a teen struggling with self-confidence, just remember, if you work really hard you too can someday pull an obese man around in a sled.*

*The Writings, motivating youth to achieve their dreams.

7:24 - Fox Sports
Am I the only one sick of seeing poker on every sports network? Isn't slapjack more of a sport than poker? At least there's a semblance of physical activity. When can I see the World Spoons Championship on ESPN?

7:26 - MTV
A 22-year-old named Vanessa is competing to be Paris Hilton's BFF. That's right, a cute female with a ton of her life in front of her is "competing" on a reality show to be the best friend of someone who is in the public eye only because her family has more money than Scrooge McDuck. Instead of having a chance of leading a normal life, she's been sucked in to the absurd "reality" that is Hollywood. It's time like this that I curse the inventor of the television.

7:31 - TLC
It's Jon & Kate plus 8. I can't make fun of this show... I actually like it. This is what a reality show should be. It doesn't involve shallow characters, stupid contests, or people continually trying to get wasted and score. It just gives you a peek into INTERESTING lives.

7:38 - truTV
A woman recounts the story of her husband being struck by lightning. Seconds later, the name of the program flashes on screen. The title? Most Shocking.
... I guess it's fitting... but good grief.

7:45 - A&E
The censor with his finger on the bleep button earns his paycheck on Dog the Bounty Hunter. After having a civil conversation (a.k.a., a volley of swear words that would make Dave Chappelle and the 1980s version of Eddie Murphy blush) with a distinguished (read: inebriated) individual, Dog treks off to find someone, but to no avail.

7:51 - Cartoon Network
It's Sinbad... but not the good one. This cartoon sailor has nothing on the comedian that hasn't really been relevant since the '90s.


...


We're back after a brief* intermission**. One that interrupted my Sinbad thought, which is a punishable offense in some states.

*Painfully long and nearly requiring the aid of Dog's bleeping censor.

**Writerspeak for a reminder that my laptop operates as reliably as a remote control constructed out of Playdough and jelly beans


8:14 - CMT
Once again, the word celebrity is being tossed around haphazardly. This time, the culprit is Hulk Hogan's Celebrity Championship Wrestling. When I see Dustin Diamond, Danny Bonaduce, and Butterbean, I can't say I'm star struck. On top of that, the wrestling "trainers" include Brian Knobbs and Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake, who were never really known for their in-ring expertise. It seems the title should be changed to Hulk Hogan's Semi-notable Championship Jobbing.

8:21 - CBS
In case you were wondering, Ladies Love Cool James... That's right it's LL Cool J. Unfortunately, it's not in a program that involves Samuel L. Jackson being eaten by a shark in one of the oddest film events I've ever seen. Now he's basically just setting me up for disappointment.

8:25 - QVC
A woman is showing off how effective a vacuum can be in cleaning couch cushions, and mentions cleaning up after her dogs. She demonstrates on a cushion so caked with muck that looks as if it was recently excavated from an Egyptian tomb. Granted, the vacuum does a marvelous job in cleaning the cushion, but I'm a little concerned about the lady's dog at this point. What the heck is this mutt involved in if it's getting cushions that dirty?

8:33 - CNN
A commercial for a Barack Obama "victory plate" just mentioned how it features his "kind eyes." This begs the question, can other body parts exhibit personality traits. Someone may have "kind eyes," but what happens if they have "wicked ears?" What about "stubborn elbows?" I'm getting worried, and I haven't even brought up "lackadaisical lovehandles."

8:40 - Vh1
Young MC's "Bust a Move" is the current subject of dissection. I really enjoy the song, but there's one thing I've never understood. If my best friend Harry, has a brother Larry, and in five days he's going to marry, I know I'll make it there if I can, but why in the ceremony would I be the best man? After all, Larry isn't my best friend... Shouldn't he choose his brother for such an honor? Is there a riff between the two? Did Harry once date Larry's bride-to-be, and they're trying to avoid awkward situations?
... Should this type of stuff keep me awake at night?

I apologize to those readers unfamiliar with '90s hip hop. Odds are, you are wondering what the heck that last paragraph meant... Then again, odds are, this isn't this first time a Writing hasn't made any sense.

8:52 - TCM
I'm not sure what classic film this black-and-white motion picture is, but some guy with the largest nose I've ever seen just passed away in a dark alley... There's really nothing more to it than that... The guy's schnozz was just ridiculously large... It seemed notable at the time.

9:00 - CBS
A performance by Usher rings in the 2008 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. This program really provides no redeeming value whatsoever... Other than the fact that it contains nothing but scantily clad models and occasional bits of horrendous acting.

... This is a great show.