Summer of the Pregnant Murder Victim

I am by no means minimizing the deaths of at least 3 women in the United States who have been murdered and in fact, were pregnant at the time.

Fox News recently did a story on pregnant women murder victims, complete with a graphic stating '20% of Pregnant Women are Murdered" (thanks to Chris over at Dangerous Logic for this info).

That fact makes me worried for all the Catholic Mothers out there with four kids. There going to be killed during the fifth pregnancy.

I'm guessing that Fox wants us to know that 20% of all female murder victims are pregnant at the time of their deaths. What percentage of women are pregnant at any given time? Probably a lot less than 20%...so those geniuses over at Fox News are on to something.

I don't think we need to convene a congressional hearing to agree that killing anyone, let alone pregnant women, is a heinous thing. Killing a woman who is pregnant with your child is awful. The problem lies with the men, of course.

The Scott Petersens and Billy Cutts of the world are subhuman. How is it that they get laid to start with?

And don't get me started on the AssHats who are able to kill their own children. Maybe it's the summer of Family Killing.

Summer Solstice

The fact that it is the longest day of the year doesn't mean that I have more time in my day to write blogstuff.

The mosquitoes waited until after Genoa Days to make their appearance. Oddly, I forgot all about mosquitoes....senility is creeping up on me.

Our nephew's graduation went well. The Dean of the college gave a nice speech exalting the benefits of a liberal arts education, which made me want to jab my wife in the ribs and say "see, I wasn't wasting my time, after all". The three reasons for the graduation ceremony, according to Dean Linzer, were to 1) recognize the acheivement of the students, 2) recognize the support of the families and 3) continue in the time honored tradition of wearing heavy gowns in un-airconditioned buildings. It was very, very warm in Welsh-Ryan Arena. You'd think for $40,000+ a year they could put some AC in the building!

2007 is flying by. It seems everytime I turn around, I'm changing pages on the calendar. The kids are growing up too fast. And I fear that I'm getting too old for workplace shit. I don't know if a winning lottery ticket is the answer or not. I should sit down with my wife and determine just how little I need to earn to be happy.

Why the world hates us

I was driving to a sales call this morning and saw a big SUV being driven by a women on a cell phone, tossing a cigarette out the window, and her 12 year old son leaning out a back seat window, obviously not buckled.

Almost June

Back in December, I had a legitimate offer on my dad's house. I asked the attorney for Chase Mortgage if they would consider a short sale - taking less than the balance owed - to avoid the forclosure process. No answer. Even when I got the offer up to where Chase wouldn't lose a dime, the attorney wouldn't respond.

The foreclosure went forward, and the Sheriff's sale was scheduled for May 17. My real estate agent got involved, and found out that Chase would have taken the short sale back in December if only their attorney didn't have his head up his ass.

After jumping through several hoops, I'm very happy to report that Chase allowed us to sell the property and stave off foreclosure. Someone at Chase advocated for us, and the small loss they took (actually, if you back out the 'penalties', they made about $1500 more than was owed) was a lot less than if the property had gone to foreclosure.

One less thing off my plate.

I spent 2 1/2 hours cleaning the house after closing. I wonder what my brother was doing for the six months he was living there rent-free? Certainly not cleaning it, that's for damn sure.

Happy 62nd, Pete!

One can't acknowlege the birth of Pete Townshend without citing one of his most famous lyrics: 'Hope I die before I get old'

With that cliche out of the way, Happy Birthday, Pete!

In 1986, Artist James and I found ourselves celebrating Pete's birthday on the campus of Kent State. While having lunch at the Wendy's in the recently-built student union, we asked a coed if she had any appreciation for the Kent State massacre.

"Well, we get that day off of classes", was her reply.



Just in case you forgot about Kent State

Moral Dilemmas

Jerry Falwell, we hardly knew ye.

I am resisting the urge to take one last cheap shot at him.

Will he be greeting with choirs at the pearly gates, or will he find himself on a parkbench in hell?

If I were the Almighty, I'd be flipping a coin right now.

Into the Wayback Machine, Sherman!

A while back, I signed up to take online surveys for the Chicago Tribune. I acculmulate points for each survey I do, and after awhile, I earn a $30 gift card from Amazon.com. To me, it's like free money.

When I have 'free money', spending it is an agonizing process. What to buy, what to buy? My taste in music is stunted. It is hard for me to stomach anything that is 'new' and 'hip' today. I'm a big fan of singer/songwriters, and that genre is not that popular anymore. I decided that with this purchase, I would get something that I had on vinyl, but need on CD.

As a teenager coming of age in Pre-Bust Houston in the late '70's, I discovered Jimmy Buffett. This was LONG BEFORE the "Parrot Head" era that has made him a wealthy man. My first Buffett album was "Son of a Son of a Sailor", which was the follow-up to "Changes in Lattitudes...", which was a big seller. Along about the time I could drive, I also bought "You had to be there" a live double-album that became one of my biggest musical influences.

Back then, I was the first kid on my block to buy a 'portable stereo system' (which later became known as a Boom Box). It was a Sony, and it was pretty nice. Because my 'car at the time' didn't have a working radio, I used the box, wedging it between the console and rear seat on the hump of my '72 Cutlass. We could drive to Galveston and take the box with us on the beach. Looking back, I think my parents would have freaked out if they realized the kind of traffic we drove through to get from the FM1960 area of north Harris County down to Galveston Island. Right through downtown Houston at 85mph....and then at 15mph on the way back home in traffic. Learning to drive on IH-45 and 610 Loop made me a fearless driver.

Anyhow, "You had to be there" was what we listened to. I don't think we understood half of the drug references, but we sure knew that everyone was having a great time at the show, and someday we'd be able to get drunk (or high or whatever) and understand what all the excitement was about. We learned all the Buffett songs, and my friend Dan and I would later go on to great fame as the 'Bohica Brothers Band'. (Our luck with girls was so bad, we'd just say Bend Over, Here It Comes Again).

So from the time I was 16 or 17, it was my life's goal to become a guitar player in the Coral Reefer Band. Remember, this was before all the steel drums and grass skirts and shit like that. Not that there's anything wrong with it...it's just a different world now.

Way back then, we'd drive up to College Station to see Buffett on a Thursday night, then see him at the Summit in Houston on Saturday. Later, in college, we'd see him at CS and then run over to Austin for the next show. I remember the weekend of March 6 1982 with great fondness (6th row seats in Austin) because that's when Lori decided that she liked me.

That copy of "You had to be there" had a life of its own. All my friends borrowed it to listen to and tape. On at least 2 occasions, I was given new albums due to some misfortune the lent-out copy suffered. I had it in college, but lost track of it. Either my roommate ended up with it, or it was stolen when I blew the engine in Marshfield, MO in Dec 1983 and had to leave the car there (all my clothes and stuff was stolen out of the car while it was being fixed).

So I bought "You had to be there" with my Amazon gift card. It arrived last weekend, and I listened to it in the car (as it should be) all week. It took me back to a happy time in my life. A time when all I wanted to do was play guitar, drive to the beach, and wish that some girl liked me.

I get all the marijuana references now.



Jimmy as I remember him

Life gets better

My son celebrated his first communion Saturday, and we had most of the family over afterwards for a cookout.

As I was flipping burgers, Artist James called from Texas to tell me that his brother in-law David (who lives up here in Flyvover country) told him some very important news. The kind of news that that I would leave Christ himself waiting on my front porch to hear.

Shiner Bock is now available in Illinois!

As much as I wanted to hang up the phone immediately and drive to any number of suburban Chicago liquor stores right then and there, I decided that the Corona I bought (it was Cinco de Mayo afterall) would have to do.

The next day after completing a round of golf, I actually ran into David, the brother in-law, and he confirmed where he was able to buy Shiner Bock.

At 1:10 CST today, I bought a 12 pack of Shiner Bock.

I think this is the lord's way of telling me that the worst is over, and my life will start improving.

I'm taking my 12 pack home now so it will be cold around 8:30 tonight. I'll only have one.

Moderation in everything.

Not my idea, but damn fine, anyway

I read this during Gene Weingarten's weekly chat yesterday. I wish I would have thought of it.

Our pal Cho stalked a couple of gals on the Va Tech campus. When caught, he was urged to stop and sent back to his dorm.

If he had plagerized his poems and plays, he would have been expelled.

Isn't it sad when a blind eye is turned to harrassing women, but plagerizing (yes, a serious offense in academia) receives its own form of capital punishment.

It's May, it's May, the lusty month of May...

Here in northern Illinois, we are starting our annual 3 weeks of Spring. T.S. Eliot was correct when he wrote that April is the cruelest month. Afterall, it is supposed to be Spring in April, but we usually get our last snowfall around the 10th, and if we have a day above 60 degrees, we celebrate by removing all of our clothes and running naked in the streets.

Okay, we don't run naked in the streets. But I have a list of neighbor ladies who I wish did.

Three weeks from now, it will be oppressive hot. Not for me, mind you, I spent many years in Texas, but for everyone else it will be too hot, too humid and just too much of everything.

I pride myself on not complaining about the heat. In fact, I think that accepting the heat adds to my street cred. It increases my cred when it comes to complaining about the cold, anyway.

Behold the Power of Flyover!

Naming Rosie O'Donnell "AssHat of the Week" a mere 24 hours before the announcement of her leaving "The View" is no accident.

Well, okay, it was an accident.

I couldn't locate a tasteful photo of Cho (and we are all better for that, I think), and I didn't have time to put a lot of thought into my nomination, so I just went with Rosie.

There was a time when I really liked Rosie O'Donnell. Sadly, those times are over. She reminds me of blog-goddess frog (who I admire) in that she constantly shouts for tolerance when it comes to accepting her lifestyle and politics, but woe be unto those who disagree with her. Tolerance is a 2-way street, and I tend to equate tolerance with respect.

Still, I think that ABC Daytime, as well as the flyover region, had had enough of Ms. O'Donnell's antics.

Think about it. We had embraced her as a lesbian, we accepted her as a parent, and we even accepted her liking Tom Cruise. Still, she wanted more. She wanted us to allow her the final word on all important matters, and we just said 'no'.

As the 'face of lesbian-ity' (along with Ellen DeGeneres), I thought she would help our culture understand, like, and even enjoy homosexuals. "See, Shirley, that Rosie is a good egg. Who cares if she doesn't like the guys?"

The problem started with her militancy. It's not that we don't like Militant Lesbians, we just don't like anything militant. Militant Theocracy, Militant Conservatives, Militant Liberals, Militant Environmentalists, Militant Gun-Toters and Militant Anti-Gun-Toters.

Perhaps 'regular' America is just too busy keeping on keeping on to be militant about anything, and so we are creeped out by anyone who is militant about anything.

I'll always have a place in my heart for you Rosie. It's a shame you can't be more like Ellen. We like her. She's the friendly lesbian from down the street. The one that lives with the other nice lady and doesn't check out my wife's cute ass while she's carrying in the groceries.

Heroes are everywhere, you just need to look

About six or seven years ago, our company hired a high-schooler named Jenna to do some office-services related stuff in our office. Her dad works here as a design engineer and is a really nice guy.

Jenna's family could be described as fundamentalist christian. While not proselytizers, they make it clear which side of the fence they stand on. Be that as it may, Jenna was a fairly typical 17 year old girl: nice but snotty, hipper than the rest of us. In addition to delivering mail and answering the phone, she also helped Laura in our office with the permit drawings for kitchen fire systems, and that is how I came to know her.

After 9/11, she made it clear that she would forego college and join the Army. And she did. Her parents were interviewed in a local newspaper about her choice to join the service, and while they expressed the usual parental fears, they also stated that as christians, they believed that the Lord ultimately chooses the time of everyone's passing, and if their daughter was killed in action, it was the Lord's will, and they would be content with His will.

Now, you might think I chuckle at that sentiment, but after a lot of reflection, that may be the best way to cope with the fear of losing one's child. There is only so much we can control. Whether it be on a college campus in rural Virginia, or the streets of Baghdad, you just never know when it's going to be your turn.

Jenna is stationed out of Ft Drum, 2nd Combat Team, 10th Mountain. She also jumps out of planes. She has a good chance of earning her Sergeant's strips this summer. She's also returning for her third tour in Iraq.

Jenna is home on leave, and she stopped by to visit us on her way to an elementary school, where she was going to speak at a school assembly. There is no doubt that she's a lean, mean, killing machine; but as she was leaving today, she said that she was looking forward to playing with the kids before she spoke today.

I took a picture of her with Laura. I told her to keep her head down and to take care of herself. Afterall, you never know when the Lord calls your number.

Political Correctness 33, Common Sense 0

Looking back on my college 'career' over 20 years ago, I can remember a few of those wacky guys, the loners that refused to interact, ate by themselves in the dining hall, would avert their eyes when you passed them in the hallway, etc. It would have been tempting to bust their doors down and give them swirlies, but we were too drunk and/or stoned to care that much.

We had the good sense to stay away from these guys, but I certainly made a point of knowing where they were, because you just never knew....

Cho Seung-Hui was a certified psycho. He had the proper documentation and everything. Why, after four years at Va Tech, was he in the general population? One reason was because he was 'protected', and I don't mean because he was Korean. I mean because he was identified as 'over-sensitive' and 'troubled'. Let's treat the psycho with kid gloves so he doesn't sue us for discrimination.

Let's be clear here: Psycho wack jobs should be discriminated against. They need to be removed from the general population and proteced from themselves.

After today, I am no longer going to partake in the media banquet of this story. I've seen the video, I read the plays, I've looked at the photos. More than anything, Cho Seung-Hui needed two things, he needed to get his ass kicked once in a while, and he needed to get laid. His so-called 'manifesto' railed against the elite, the rich, the normal. He was completely unable to relate to other humans on any level. His basic approach to women was creepy (text-stalking?--get a set of balls, will you?) Guys who are creepy don't get the girls.

Alienated? Sure, I understand. I've been there. Really. And while it was cool to fantasize about beating my tormentors with a piece of lumber, I never thought it would be a good idea to make these fantasies come true. Sure, I hope Joe Fijak dies a terrible death for bullying me when I was 8 years old (he was 12), and there's any number of guys from my high school who I'm thrilled are 60 pounds overweight and balding. I am human.

Cho was sick. Cho was nuts. I understand that. He should have not been on that campus.

Cho will be the next AssHat of the week. I've never had the time or the patience to try to understand the kids 'who just couldn't fit in'. Sorry you couldn't fit in, Cho. Sorry you were delusional. I'm even more sorry that even though the authorities knew you were nuts, they were afraid to do anything about it.

Let's change the subject now, shall we?

Tuesday Morning Quarterbacking

The news coverage of the Virginia Tech tragedy was awful. Short on facts, long on speculation...it became the worst of sports-talk radio.

I'll be avoiding the coverage today as I see that it has become 'What If?' programming.

The shootings happened in real time. This was not a pre-scripted '24'-ish drama. Second-guessing the decisions made or not made will become a cottage industry, and all the media outlets will have attorneys, so-called experts, and other pundits offering half-baked opinions full of speculation and rehash.

And if I want speculation and rehash, I'll tune into sports-talk, because that is where it is done best.

Someday when I open my diner, I'll have Speculated Eggs and re-hash on the menu.

Hello, I Mus' be Going

Don Imus is our AssHat of the Week. Not because my feelings were hurt by what he said. And not because I don't think he has the right to say what he said.

It was just a stupid thing to say. It wasn't clever. It wasn't enlightening. It wasn't even true.

I do think there has been an OVERreaction on the part of the media, and a smaller overreaction on the part of the offended parties.

The reaction implies that the opinions of Don Imus have some import to our culture. They do not.

Long ago, I tried to watch his show on MSNBC, and did not think it was funny or entertaining. I found Imus and his cast of characters to be self-important boobs, who enjoyed laughing at some inside joke...the inside joke being 'can you believe we're making money doing THIS?"

I don't think of women, basketball players or not, as whores. Yes, there is a rather small yet vocal minority that characterizes women as whores. They are morons. They have a problem. When a 65-year old white man who earns $8-10 million a year characterizes women as whores, he has a problem, too.

It's called unemployment.

No Good Deed

I'll have some details later, but despite suffering a mechanical crisis in Lebanon, MO, we made it back home on Saturday evening.

Not only am I way behind at work, but I'm still suffering from post travel fatigue.

Not to mention I'm trying to wrap up my dad's housing situation....not getting much sleep because of that.

Son In-Law of the Year

Later today, I'm flying from Chioago to Tucson (at my expense) with my sister in-law to help drive my wife's parent's RV back to Illinois.

When they drove down at the end of December, it was noticed that my father in-law had some issues handling the 33 foot monster. Not wanting to lose my in-laws just yet, I offered to help them drive it home. They took along their car, and my SIL will help drive that. I've never been to New Mexico, and blowing through Albuquerque at 65 miles an hour appeals to me very much. Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois.

I am perfectly content to drive 10 hours a day for three days to make it back by Saturday. In the past, my PILs have preferred to take slower state routes in order to avoid OK City, Tulsa, and St Louis. That route takes includes Kansas and takes four days. I enjoy my PILs, but I would fear for their lives during the last day.

Dwight D Eisenhower commissioned our wonderful Interstate Highway System for a reason: To drive from Tucson AZ to Genoa IL in three days. One thousand, eight hundred and forty-one miles. Sure, the Kansas route is 20 miles shorter, but that 20 miles savings cost 6 hours of drive time and an extra night.

Profiles in Courage?

I don't have a snarky opinion about John Edwards continuing to run for president while his lovely wife, Elizabeth, battles what could be inoperable, fatal cancer.

I've always liked Elizabeth more than John, although they both seem to have a lot of character...I'm giving them a lot of credit because they have lost a child.

If there is a red flag, it is that the Edwards' have decided (now and in the past) to cope with unbelievable stress and grief in unbelievable ways.




They did lose a child, a heartache I would never hope to endure. Elizabeth chose to have another child when she was pretty much past the age when it is prudent to do so, placing herself and the new child at risk. (Before I get hate mail, let me say that it was her choice to do so, and bless her heart that she and the child overcame all the risk factors). Still, during the 2004 campaign, I got the impression that the reason they had the child was to replace the one they lost. Was this selfish? Who's to say.

Now, the poor woman is suffering from a recurrance of cancer, a seemingly metastized form of the breast cancer she beat years ago. My heart goes out to them both, and their children. Even if it is treated and controlled, the fear and anxiety one goes through is heartwrenching. I don't know if John's decision (with Elizabeth's support) is the best one for the family. Again, is it selfish? Who's to say.

Not having the same character, if my wife was diagnosed similarly, I would probably withdraw and turn away from the world. Heck, I wanted to do that during the three week cancer scare we went through 18 months ago. And that story had a happy ending.

I usually don't pray for smarmy personal-injury attorneys, but I will for him. And especially for his wife and their children.

If you came here for some snark, I won't disappoint you. I did not watch "60 Minutes" last night, but the overnight buzz is that Katie Couric "grilled" the Edwards about John's decision to stay in the campaign.

Milwaukee's Jessica McBride (very smart and very hot) sums it up best for me:

Katie Couric grills John and Elizabeth Edwards...what a witch. Look, I am NOT a fan of John Edwards-candidate. I think he's a class warfare demogogue and phony. But I don't question his devotion to his family. I think it's completely a personal decision for John and Elizabeth to decide whether or not to go forward with the campaign. I don't criticize them for that. Why should they allow cancer to control their lives? I can understand why they would not want to give up THEIR dreams (and, yes, the spouse of a politician shares his or her dreams often) because of cancer. What is Elizabeth supposed to do? Curl up on a bed and cry every day with John sitting there holding her hand?

I suppose Katie thinks her questions are "objective."

Didn't Katie Couric return to the Today show pretty darn fast after her husband died of cancer even though she had two little kids at home who needed her?

I really think these questions are mean. Katie Couric is a jerk

Looks like Katie needed some "tough guy cred" and got it.

What a Pal!

Our good friends and neighbors, Tom & Wendy, moved last weekend. Tom had made several trips to eastern Ohio with his 22' trailer, and he had one more load plus a 17' U-Haul left to move. I offered to drive the U-Haul and we left really early last Friday morning for New Waterford OH, which is just outside, Columbiana, which is about 20 miles south of Youngstown. Both Tom and Wendy grew up in the Youngstown area, and despite that, are really nice people who have a firm grip on reality and a plan for the future.

After spending all day Friday on the road, and all day Saturday unloading furniture and possessions at various storage units and homes in the area, Tom drove me up to Mineral Ridge, the town where he grew up. He gave me the 25 cent tour and then we pulled into the Ice House, a bar in Austintown (right next to Mineral Ridge). Tom told me that they had really good chicken wings, and he was buying the Crown Royal.

I'm 44 years old and a child of the seventies. When I stepped into the bar, it was like walking right into Ft Wayne in 1977. I had the shortest haircut in the bar. Until 10:30, there were no attractive women. It was St Patrick's Day, and the bar was hopping...although I was told that it was always this crowded. Lots of regulars, which I like. A 70-80's cover band opened at 10pm, (with Prince's "Let's Go Crazy") and played lots of Journey, 867-5309 Jenny, some Cars, etc, and to be honest, they were quite good. The guitarists had the long hair going, and the bass player was 300 pounds with short hair and a Mike Reno bandana. Tom knew the drummer from back in high school.

Sure, it was lame compared to the Chicago or Austin live music scenes, but I was in heaven. Well, except for the lack of cute girls, anyway. I was amazed at all the long hair on the men. What kind of job lets you have this kind of hair? Granted, I'm VERY conservative hair-wise. I'm fortunate to have more than most 44 year olds, although I have some forehead creep. But all in all, it's a good head of hair.

We drank quite a bit, but I was too tired to feel intoxicated. At one point, Tom asked me what time it was, and was really sad to hear "8:40pm". We were really dragging from moving furniture. Pianos are stinkin' heavy. Our goal was to see the band's opening set, which we did. I had a dozen really hot and really good chicken wings, and had a nice time.

On the way home, Tom asked me how I liked the bar. I told him it was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. He agreed. He moved with his family to Florida when he was 17, and has seen a lot of the world in the last 23 years. Much different from the usuals at the Ice House.

Another conspiracy shot to hell

Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, or KSM as he likes to be called, has confessed to carryijng out the 9/11 atttacks along with many other terrorist acts, including the bombing of a Bali dance club and the beheading of journalist Daniel Pearl.

I guess the air gets let out of the conspiracy geeks who claim the US was behind the 9/11 plane attacks.

The confession was extracted at Gitmo, along with the revelation that KSM also was behind the 'Bartman' incident at Wrigley Field in 2003 and is also the father of Anna Nicole Smith's daughter.

It's amazing what you can find out after a few months at Guantanamo Bay.