Lives Forever in the Children's Eyes...

Action Man Clark

no question...dudes a stud

The Case for Obama cont: It's the economy, stupid!

I'm going to jump directly to my case for Obama's economic plan/taxes by displaying some emails my well spoken brother, Kip and I exchanged the other day. It points out some of Obama's economic philosophy, and mine as well. It started with a funny cartoon Kip sent me...with a note.

Todd, I have attached a picture that gave me a nice chuckle. And then something unexpected crossed my mind. You. I was suddenly very curious what you would think of this. So I'm sending it to you. With a request. In a true sense of trying to broaden my understanding, I would like to get your feedback on this: Is the basis of this cartoon true or not. And why. Can't wait to hear from you. :)

-Kip

My reply...

Kip, Ha ha! That’s pretty funny. I’ll do the best I can to answer your questions.

1. Feedback?
2. Is the basis of this cartoon true or not?
3. Why?

Below is my feedback, that addresses the cartoon and why I think like I do:

I’d guess the basis of the cartoon is that democrats want to redistribute (steal) wealth from those who work hard and give it to those who don’t. This is definitely the stereotype. Like most stereotypes, there is some truth to it, but at the same time oversimplifications and of course, taking a view to its extreme-then arguing against that extreme view.

Here is my take: There is a spectrum of thought, as you know- total Communism on the very far left side and total Free Markets with no regulation at all, save perhaps John Smith’s moral imperative, on the far right.

Somewhere in between is where our capitalism has always resided. It has never been a free market or socialistic system, but has always contained elements of both. The argument isn’t and hasn’t been socialism or free markets, rather, how far do we fluctuate in the middle. Two areas of thought battle for this middle ground.

One, that economic growth is created from a strong, wealthier middle class. Because of their massive number, they have immense purchasing power. Not necessarily in the price of the items they purchase, but in the sheer quantity. These purchases spread wealth, create jobs and trickle throughout the economy. Hence, less of the tax burden should be carried by them. Only very far leftist Democrats believe in helping out those who don’t have jobs. Most want to lessen the burden on the middle class, working folks.

Two, the traditional Republican “trickle down” theory. Meaning, economic growth is created by a wealthier upper class. So you eliminate the burden that the rich pay. It is indeed very high. The top 5% pays about 60% of the taxes. So, you minimize their tax burden and their money trickles down, in the form of purchases, investments and jobs.

There are many intelligent economists on both sides. In fact, I was surprised to find that there are more Dem economists than Rep, despite the reputation. One of my favorite voices in this realm is Warren Buffet (technically not an economist, I know) - who has made the argument for a long time that trickle down, although it makes sense in theory, doesn’t really trickle down in real life. His numbers show that the behavior of the very wealthy Americans doesn’t change as their taxes go down. Also, it has been argued that with a new global world the trickle doesn’t land in the U.S. but in foreign investments and company growth. Warren also argues that as most of the top 5% get such a large portion of their income from capital gains, rather than a salary, that they end up paying much less (15% capital gains tax) than their secretaries (25-35% income tax) each year. He argues that this is currently redistribution in one direction- up!

Another one of my favorite voices, George Will, a very conservative columnist, points out the leftist economist argument- that redistribution of wealth is already what 95% of our government currently does. But again, in one direction- up! He points to an example of a few very wealthy sugar growers who get subsidies from the gov. that amount to billions of $ per year for the taxpayer. He calls it millionaire welfare.

Hence, many on the left argue that eliminating Bush’s tax cuts to the wealthy is just a way of eliminating the upward redistribution of wealth.

I argue somewhere in the middle. In theory, I think a flat or fair tax is more, well, fair. But, currently, with our debt and spending habits, I have a hard time thinking a government can or should eliminate some of its biggest revenue streams. If they can control spending, then they can work towards making taxes the same rate for everyone. I don’t see that happening, so I say tax the wealthy, and lower the taxes for the middle class.

There’s my two cents…but I’m still learning…

All that said, I still love the cartoon. :)

-t

The Case for Obama cont: Got Mad Skillz, Yo

A president should be someone special. Have abilities and traits that are not normal. Not superman, but not the everyday man either. As they are interviewing for the most powerful position on the planet they should be anything but ordinary. They will sit at the head of many conference room tables, surrounded by the brightest and smartest people in the world, and they had better be able to demand respect, process advice from various sources, well intentioned and not, and calmly make reasonable decisions, amidst fear and uncertainty. Obama is well suited for this role by consistently displaying the following traits:

Intelligence:
A degree in Political Science with an emphasis on Foreign Relations from Columbia. Graduated Magna Cum Laude from Harvard Law School and President of the Harvard Law Review. Taught Constitutional Law for 12 years at the University of Chicago Law School.

In his book, Audacity of Hope- BTW, it's not a memoir, but an book about his social and political views. Anyway, while reading it, five or six times I put the book down and said to Annie, "This is the best written description of constitutional issues I've ever read". Then I would bore her to tears by paraphrasing a portion I had just read. His grasp of foreign, economic and social policy is consistently tempered with historical perspective, precedent and a thorough understanding of the law and constitution.

Temperament:
Charles Krauthammer, a conservative columnist for the Washington Post, in a less than complimentary article about Obama concedes that, "Nonetheless, he has both a first-class intellect and a first-class temperament."

Two hugely important issues demonstrate how Obama has shown a conservative nature, one that thinks out the issues and puts aside fear before acting.

1. War in Iraq- everyone else rushed in, Democrats included. Obama studied out the issue for himself and came to a much different conclusion. One who takes council from his reason rather than his fear tends to inspire me. He asked for more evidence, said we were getting in prematurely. Turned out to be exactly right.

2. Economic Crisis- McCain was touting a different strategy every day while Obama's demeanor was collected, methodical and deliberate. This temperament instills confidence and can help keep the nation calm during crazy times. This is especially important with such a fickle stock market, that often rides the roller coaster of panic and hysteria.

Experience:
12 years teaching the constitution. Understands it thoroughly. More of a statesman than an executive. Reminds me more of some of the founding fathers and/or Abraham Lincoln, than an executive. Over 800 bills sponsors/co-sponsored in Illinois State Senate. Over 100 in US Senate.

All this said, I admit this is his weakest trait, but sufficient, with all others considered. If you think about it, it's the first trait to go when you want someone new in power.

Judgment:
See Iraq/ Economic crisis comments.

Also, he selected a very strong, intelligent (despite his continual gaffs) running mate. Someone who can challenge him. I respect that.

Finally, I like a guy who will look at both sides of an issue before plunging into the political fray. This endorsement by one of his old colleagues who often disagrees with him speaks volumes. Here is a taste:

"This was a pretty amazing conversation, not only because of Obama's mastery of the legal details, but also because many prominent Democratic leaders had already blasted the Bush initiative as blatantly illegal. He did not want to take a public position until he had listened to, and explored, what might be said on the other side. He took the law exceedingly seriously, and he wanted to get the statutory and constitutional provisions right. This is the Barack Obama I have known for nearly 15 years -- a careful and even-handed analyst of law and policy, unusually attentive to multiple points of view."

Well Articulated:
This one needs no explanation. Let's just say that back when I didn't support Obama, I wished that my candidate spoke and explained complex human and political issues as well as he did. A leader must be able to persuade and earn respect through his words- they are incredibly powerful, especially now when a leader is likely to have a camera in their face 24-7.

Finally, Powell's endorsement below better articulates many of my points. I don't agree with everything he says, but thinks it's well said:

The Case for Obama: An Overview

I try and keep my posts fairly light, but I will indulge in some slightly deeper waters over the next few weeks by making a case for Barack Obama. Every few days I will try and expound and explain the reasons that I currently lean towards Obama.

Before I start, please know that I am an Independent, but I will not insult your intelligence by claiming that I am not biased or 100% objective. I'm human and I'm sure their are flaws to my arguments, but I'll do the best I can. Please note, I have come to his camp, and away from a lifetime of Republican mantras, kicking and screaming over the last 6 years. Still, I may not actually vote for Obama because of some issues that I will get to later. But, I am really leaning heavily his way. I realize that I am a minority in suburban Utah, but this is something I take seriously, because I believe that politics should not be a mere hobby that one likes or doesn't like, but rather, each citizen's duty. I will try and be as upbeat and optimistic as possible, because I believe politics is, despite it's awful reputation, an honorable endeavor that requires compromise, nuance, character and a lot of intelligence.

As a preview, below are the 7 topics I will address, one with each future post. Unless I get lazy, disenchanted or forget. I reserve the right to add or subtract as I am still learning as I go. You will probably see that I go against many of the cliches and brands that have been established and repeated so often. Hopefully, I offer a perspective that others can respect, whether they agree or not.

Now I will proceed with my case, with a look of utter soberness on my face, and maybe only a little condescending tone from time to time...if you're lucky.

I like Obama, because:

1. Skills- The Obama/Biden ticket has mad skills, abilities, intelligence, experience and judgment. One example; Ronald Reagan was known as the 'Great Communicator' and it served him well. Barack is just as good. DO NOT underestimate the importance of this in our modern communication-crazed society. Both at home and abroad.
2. Character- Having studied Obama's life probably more than the next 500 Americans combined, I believe he is a man of courage, honesty, patriotism, family loyalty and faith. He is not perfect, and plays in a sometimes ugly game, but overall I've been greatly impressed.
3. Health Care- This one is very personal to me and my family. His plan looks much like what Mitt Romney did in Mass as Gov. It is not communism- but a solution that will work while keeping businesses competitive. Having worked at United Health Group, I don't claim to be the authority, but have some insight into how insurance companies own our Government. A drastic change is needed.
4. Foreign Policy- Barack Obama has shown solid judgment in what I consider the biggest blunder by the US government in the past 30 years, the war in Iraq. Also, Joe Biden is as knowledgeable, in my view, of the middle east region than any public figure in the past 20 years. I pulled those figures from thin air, so don't even try and dispute them!
5. Economy- The US can't do jack-squat throughout the world if we are broke. Warren Buffet is now advising Barack Obama about the economy, and will play a big role in his cabinet, I predict. Buffet is my economic hero and reading his books have taught me more about taxes and the economy than probably any other source. Buffet knows his stuff, and he supports and advises Obama, and boy do we need it!
6. Energy- Obama has made a nice evolution (I don't mind politicians changing their minds when needed, like some might) and will support off shore drilling (under conditions), nuclear power, other alternatives and can mobilize the country behind a goal of becoming energy independent in 10 years. He has the ability to change the way Americans think about energy, and bring them together behind a common purpose, like nobody since Reagan or JFK.
7. Religion- Religious topics (and issues very sacred to me) are being callously exploited, intentionally or not, by Republican leaders to obtain/maintain power. One example; Roe v. Wade will not be overturned. Otherwise it would have been long ago, as Republican appointed judges have been far more prominent than Democrat appointed judges. Legal precedent will always prevent it. I think it's just used to rally us behind a candidate, that has no ability or intention of overturning Roe v. Wade, that we otherwise wouldn't support. Don't try and sell me a bill of goods by flaunting something that I value dearly. It offends me greatly.

All this being said, I may not even vote for him, despite believing he's the best choice and my supporting so many of his positions. I still feel a moral urge to protect the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and unborn children. Even though I believe it will do no good, but just on principle. Is it worth voting for someone that I disagree on almost everything, save those two issues, when I don't believe they will do anything to fight for them and feeling that we've already lost most of those battles long ago?

It's a quandry...

There's my overview. When I have time, I'll try and make the case for each in more detail. Being the impetus, I'm sure, for anyone who actually reads my pontifications, to promptly wish for death to end the nonsensical tedium.

Ava Doing Her Thang

Ava is so cool. Everything she does, she does with her own style and flair. For her 1st grade fun run, she insisted on wearing her sweet striped socks and carrying her fanny pack, complete with full water bottle. She did awesome and had a ton of fun!

Krypto Babe Magnet

Okay, this is how it goes...

• You get any random five numbers between 1-25
• Then you get a sixth random number between 1-25
• Finally , you use any combination of addition, subtraction, multiplication or division with the first 5 numbers to equal the sixth number.
• You can use them in any order.
  

For example, five random numbers: 2, 20, 18, 7, 11
A sixth random number: 14

2x20= 40
40-18= 22
22/11= 2
2x7= 14

That's how you play Krytpo! It's really easy, fun, exercises the brain and makes you more popular.

Now, when I was in school, I was the Krypto champion. You heard me correctly. I played in competitive Krypto tournaments. This is how it'd go down; several uber-cool students would sit around a table, while a dealer would distribute cards with numbers on them and place a master number in the middle. We then had to figure out the problem and shout "Krypto!" before anyone else. As everyone was pretty good at head math at this level, you usually had to end up saying Krypto right after you flipped your cards over. Then we had to explain how to solve the math problem. If you faltered or hesitated even for a moment, the other competitors (I use that term loosely) would shout in protest and the dealer would eliminate you from that round. So, even if you didn't have the problem figured out, you could try and bluff your way through it. If nobody caught you, or you figured it out on the spot, then you'd get the points for that round. At the end of many rounds the dealer adds up all the points and declares the winner. They then advance from table to table, leaving behind a wake of crushed dreams...smashed on the rocks of reality. The reality that the loser goes home and cries themselves, and their big neuron sparking melon, to sleep on their huge pillow.

Here is my dilemma. I ruled at Krypto. For two years (it would have been three in a row had I not been cheated by the hairy knuckled loser, Simon McDonald) I was the king of Krypto. I had my picture on the wall in the math lab, a manila colored certificate, and had my name promulgated over the intercom during morning announcements. It went something like this;

"So, that's all for sports, SNORE!!!. Now to the good stuff. The annual Krypto tournament was held on Friday night. Not sure why they did it on a Friday night, you'd think these studs of statistics would be out with their older, totally hot girlfriends from the community college, but no, they put that aside for one night of mathematical mayhem. Good thing they did, 'cause a packed auditorium witnessed a display of cranial combustion! In case you weren't there, not likely, or haven't heard, decidedly less likely, the new number krunching king is...no surprise, Todd "I brought my own folding chair, thank you" Jensen. Defending his title and winning a SAH-WHEAT new mobile computer and/or calculator thingy that he can even strap onto his wrist if he's ever in a pinch. If you see him in the hall, say congrats...he makes us Jaguars proud!"

So, back to my dilemma. Since those glory years of my youth, I've had to try and convince Annie that I was incredibly cool when I was young. You see, sports, student government, being funny and other non-essentials weren't really big at my school. Strange, I know. It was a nutty little oasis where girls just loved the math guys. Intriguing kids, draped in mystery and subtle allure, that could think on the spot and quickly turn out little mind puzzles- just drove them crazy. It was a strange phenomenon that Annie hasn't been able to buy into...yet. I'm hopeful that if I play my cards right, and continue to correct her head math in public whenever opportunity permits, she'll eventually see the appeal, and know just how lucky she really is.

Did I just hear that?

As some of you may know, I work at home. Being home most days, I see and hear all sort of behind the scene quips that make my family life feel like a crazy, over the top sitcom. A funny, but loving family having everyday adventures. Let me share a few of the gems I’ve overheard just recently, from my office/lare in the basement that make me scratch my head. You can mentally insert a phony laugh-track between each, if you like.

Annie on the phone, in a very serious conversation with her sister:

“Look, Lis, I don’t care! If a vampire loves a vampire that’s fine. If a werewolf loves a werewolf, I'll live with it. But when a werewolf falls in love with a vampire, that’s where I draw the line. It’s unacceptable, they are eternal enemies! It’s going against the natural order of things. No, they could never co-exist! EVER!”

Clark (3) eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen all by himself in silence:

“This is freaking good.” [long silence and more chewing]

“Mmmmmm. This is really freaking good…”

Ava (7), working child-slave labor for my company:

“Dad, this is really boring. I just sit here all day doing stupid stuff while you do all the cool stuff. I just sit over here in the corner and pick colors for your website all day, [rolls her eyes] like that’s soooooo important. I quit!”

[storms upstairs, then yells down from the top step]

“I’m going to start my own business, so I can fire you! But I won’t fire you because I won’t even hire you! My business is going to have a party every day, and we’re not going to invite your business, because you guys are boring and had me do stupid stuff! If you ever want my business to help you, I’m going to make you pay tons of money, like five dollars or ten dollars, but then I’ll still tell you ‘NO’!”

What are some of the crazy things that make you wonder to yourself, “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

Holy Herriman, Batman!

So I watched the new Batman movie, “Dark Knight”. I really liked it. Probably more than I should have. I even made a commitment to myself; if I ever become filthy rich I will become the mysterious protector of Herriman City. Nightly prowling through the shadows in search of mischievous, no good, wrong doers. At the least, I’ll scare off those noisy kids at the skate park. I can’t be Batman, that name in copyrighted, but I can still be the symbol of hope for a small city that is looking for a reason to believe. So, I’m trying to think of a cool name, and could use some help here. These are my thoughts so far;

Black Man- I don’t mean this in a racist fashion, it’s merely a description. I would just be the guy dressed in black dishing out my own brand of vigilante justice. Plus, the name would intimidate those from the dark underbelly of Herriman, because they’ve probably never seen a Black Man before.

Mongoose Man- Okay, hear me out with this one. For anyone who ever watched “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” when they were children know that Mongeese can hunt and kill the most venomous snakes in the world, all while displaying the most lovable personalities. It may not strike fear into the hearts of criminals right away, but once they are alone in the dark and think about its sublime meaning they’ll find me quite worrisome.

Bourne Ultimatumus- Face it, Jason Bourne rules! He kicks your teeth in, steals your identity, then rides a motorcycle through the chaotic streets of Ciro while hacking into the CIA’s GPS satellite on his cell phone. Any derivative of his name is a sure winner. Also, this version sounds a bit like a Jason Bourne dinosaur. Bonus!

Hairy-Man- the defender of Herriman. You see, it’s a play on words. Although it's not really scalable, if I decide to expand into other cities. Even then, it would remind criminals of their receding hairlines, slowly chipping away at their self-confidence.

That’s all I’ve got so far. I would love your input and ideas. Please provide a name, the reasoning, and finally what I would call my lare (i.e. the bat cave), as this is an important part of my decision. As I could become awesomely rich any time now, alacrity is paramount.

Heroically yours,

Todd

Personal Olympic Flame

The Olympics are really great. I can sit in front of my television, ice cream in hand, and watch really dedicated people display their athletic prowess on the world stage. Chiseled bodies, disciplined minds, less hair than a new born, less body fat than my index finger and a glaring, focused look in their eyes that I could use to start a fire, if I just had some kindling handy. These athletes ignite a sense of pride, a great feeling about myself, then a strong desire to dedicate myself to something, anything…followed by a little nettlesome voice in the back of my head, somewhere just behind my left Temporal Lobe, reminding me of a few inconsequential but nagging facts:

1. I just turned 33 and am losing the battle between my mental powers over nature and the aging process.
2. I am doing well to just not trip over my own feet.
3. With responsibilities like a wife, two children and legions of needy blog fans, I am hard pressed to dedicate 14 hours a day to running, swimming, flipping about, doping up and/or shaving my body hair.
4. Although I look stunning, I feel uncomfortable in most ultra tight, super short, excessively aerodynamic and overly restrictive athletic wear. Especially in High Definition.
5. My children already think I’m the greatest athlete of all time. After all, I can jump up and touch the ceiling, throw a football “over ‘dem mountains” and wrestle them into submission at will. I don’t need to prove anything to them. Also, with the only slightly exaggerated stories I tell Annie, nightly, about my athletic past, she surely thinks I’m at least somewhat gifted, if not the flat out King of Studville.

After remembering all this, I look up at the television, shake my head and laugh to myself, “This is their moment, Todd. Let them have the limelight. Let them shine and prance around in $5,000 spandex, and then lose by one millionth of a second and return to their homeland a disgrace. It’s their dream, not mine…not mine.”

Little change of tone

I know, I know, this is sappy, but I was in that kind of mood and threw this together and put it on youtube. In a personal way, this just speaks to me a bit. I like it, so if you don't, well...it's probably because I'm more righteous than you. ;)

Remember to pause my streaming blog tunes below, as the clip has music. Youtube is LQ, so it's a little choppy.

Wiiiiiii!!!

Good times at the neighborhood Wii party last night. While everyone else was playing, I was wondering by myself why it's called the 'Wii'? I think it's Chinese for, "We now have a console in every home. Advanced technology that is tracking every move your family makes, connecting you to our Communist regime to be used for future, utter control, disguised in a fun-loving video game action wand hybrid thingy. Hail Mao!”

I looked up the Chinese kanji symbol on no lesser source than the ‘internet’ and sure enough it said that almost verbatim. I don’t know about you but that creeps me out a little. Oh well. At least when we finally fall to the commies, we’ll be happily sticking a nine iron on the third green at Augusta National in 3D. That’s the way to go as far as I’m concerned.

Then I realize that Nintendo is a Japanese company. Good thing I don’t let facts get in the way of anything I believe, or I’d be playing right into their hands. I stand by my theory.

New respect for pain

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something”

~Farm boy

Now that my back is feeling much better, my respect for those people I know that are always in pain has grown by…um..well, it’s at least doubled, but it’s a little hard to put an exact measurement on it. It’s more of a general feeling of adoration and empathy than a precise percentage. Anyway, after being nearly crippled for the past two month, I’m in love with living pain free. Madly, deeply in love.

I don’t know how others cope. Especially, those getting on in years. Pain makes every little aspect of life more…painful. If you try to turn your head quickly. Pain. If you try and pick up your kids. Pain. If you try to clad yourself in spandex from head to toe, lather yourself in Crisco and hide in the bushes ready to spring on ill-intentioned intruders. Pain. So many aspects of daily life are so dramatically altered.

Nobody is happier to have me back in the game than Annie. After mowing our lawn, putting in our garden and pulling all the weeds by herself, she is ready for me to feel better. Of course, it didn’t help the situation by having me lay in a lawn chair sipping a cherry lime concoction while pointing out how “I usually push the mower in an angled pattern for best results.” No, looking back, that wasn’t the best way for me to “just try and help out where I can.”

Well Annie, I’m back and ready to contribute more than non-essential, albeit insightful and family moral building, blog posts.

Little something to embarrass Annie

With Annie's birthday coming up soon, I wanted to start the procession of world wide celebration by uploading a video thing I made her for Christmas. It is too long for youtube, so I had to break it into three parts. It includes music, so remember to pause my streaming blog music at the bottom.

I love you to death, Beautiful!

Part 1


Part 2


Part 3

Why do I enjoy thinking people misunderstand me?

Seems that I kinda get kicks off being the mysterious misunderstood guy. For instance;

• Personality tests. I’m not a big fan of them and feel threatened when they think they know me and who I am. To me it seems like someone is trying to take a short cut. An easy way for them to understand me. If you want to understand me then pay the price! Years of toil and conversation, that’s what it’s going to take ;) You aren’t going to read my “cliff notes” then feel like you can communicate with me better. No fast food relationship here. There were never any short cuts in the lunch line in grade school, that pickle nosed old coot would hit me on the head when I cut in line, and no shortcuts in getting to know me either (IMHO). What can I say, emotionally, I play hard to get.

• Labels. I hypocritically can’t stand when others label me, or anything that even remotely approaches a label. It doesn’t even have to open the door, if it even approaches a label, I politely turn it away. Even if they are good labels. I’m always grumbling to myself, “How do you know that I’m introverted/impatient/quiet/durable/not a good joke teller/too talkative/shorter than you? Are you with me all the time? Have you known me in all possible situations? No? Then shut your big Dr. Phil face!” But, when I say this to myself I add a little mental winking emoticon ;), so it doesn’t come off so harshly.

• People are always asking me what I “do”. I don’t like this. It seems like this is always in the top three questions someone asks a person when they first meet. As if ones work defines and illuminates who they are. It doesn’t, so when people ask me that now I sometimes respond with random, unexplained answers, like;

“I recruit overweight babies for diaper testing at the 3M facility in Sugarhouse. We use only an FDA approved non-rear-staining blue fluid that I concocted. Well it was a group effort, really.”

“I roll burritos in my basement and sell them to Lynn Wilson knock off companies. There is good money to be made if you’re dexterous and nimble.”

“I look for craters in large bodies of water, so the energy oozing from underwater earth holes can be harvested and sold online. One simply downloads it.”

I usually don’t tell them that I’m kidding. If they catch on then they play along. If not, they are either very impressed or simply confused. Either way, I’ve taught them a valuable lesson about what truly defines a man.

• Tell stupid jokes. Then when nobody laughs I can justify it by saying they just don’t “get me” or my “intellectual” humor. (Note: using lots of quotations in your writing makes others think they should know exactly what you are talking about and they feel thick when they don’t)

Why I do these things? Don’t answer, it was rhetorical. But now that I know I do them, I will either:

1. Stop.
2. Convince myself it’s just a lovable funny thing I do (see my post about everyone getting a social quirk freebie ).
3. I’ll post it in my blog and thus feel that it’s something I’ve identified and will eventually fix, in due course. After all, I am the “type” to do that.

These guys rock!

Love this bit. Reminds me of so many of my conversations.

minivans and ear pieces

I finally got one of those Blue Tooth ear pieces for my phone. The ones that make you look like an attention starved cast member from an old Star Trek episode. I fought it like crazy after I swore I’d never wear one. I fought it like I continue to fight buying a minivan. Oh, the infamous minivan…inevitably dragging everyone with kids into its clutches, a virtual black hole for every young parent. The epic center of gravity eventually pulling all battered and numb progenitors of lovely offspring into it, stripping them of any last scrap of pride and coolness. Forever leaving them with an empty void- self consciously screaming to the world, “I no longer have it, but I once did. I swear to you, I once did!”

Fight it! Fight the luring siren’s call, I beg you!

Back to the ear piece; at the local Smiths, I actually responded to a lady who was talking into her ear piece. We were both browsing through the peanut butter section when I heard her say,

“Hmm. What kind should I get?”

“Well, I prefer chunky, but sometimes the bits get stuck in my back teeth. Everyone is different, I guess. How big are the gaps between the teeth in your family?” I replied, impressed with my own friendliness.

She then turned her head and looked at me blankly, revealing the ear piece that she was using to have a ‘private’ conversation. Thinking quickly (practice getting out of odd spots making my actions quite smooth) I pretended to have an ear piece too, holding my hand over my ear, as if I was trying to hear my own ‘private’ conversation. And looked at her with an expression that said, “What you’re problem lady?” I then flashed my wedding ring and walked off in a condescending huff.

Despite this nearly scarring experience, I finally consented and made it clear to Annie that I’d love one for Father’s Day. Since then, I’ve learned to love it. Aside from the fact that I look pretty good with a piece of technology protruding from my ear, it leaves my hands free to do other, more important things. Like swing as I walk. Put them in my pockets. Or hold the phone at my waist rather than my ear. As you can see, life is good.

As for the minivan; I guess that will come with time, as well. In the meantime, must…continue...fighting!

cultural sensitivity 101

A new lesson in cultural sensitivity was learned a few weeks ago.

While working with Morgan Stanley (another story about that place) I met a girl from the islands named Sepiaqua. I couldn't pronounce it either. For almost a week I called her 'Bianca'. She kept telling me that it was 'Sepiaqua'. I'd say,

"That's what I said, Bianca."

Finally, frustrated with my gimpish pronunciation, she spelled it out for me, in big letters like you might see on a 'Hooked on Phonics' card. "Sep-eee-ong-qua". Sepi...what? I couldn't say it at all. So finally I found a word it sounded like. "Aqua", but with a little 'Ong' sound at the beginnig. Random , but effective. So, every time I'd try to pronounce her name I'd have to say that in my head a couple times first. I could then say it just fine. However, every sentence would have a rather lengthy dramatic pause while I figured it out in my head. It went something like this;

"Hey, there.......Sepiaqua, before you go to lunch will you please color collate this pile of sticky notes."

Pretty culturally delicate I thought. I don't put nearly as much thought into every-day names like Doug and Maggie. Besides, like Dale Carnegie wrote, somewhere I'm sure- nothing builds rapport like butchering someones name during the first 5-6 days you know them. A large steamy helping of reverse psychology, showing that distant indifference that is supposed to make them like you even more.

Well, despite this, we became friendly aquaintances. So after a couple weeks I asked her.

"What does your name......Sepiaqua mean, anyway?"

"Girl who took a long time to be born." she replied flatly.

Suprised, I blurted out a loud half laugh-half snort sound, that usually is accompanied by nose bubbles, thinking she was joking of course.

"You're kidding right? 'Girl who took a long time to be born', that's funny. Um...funny...cause...it's so...moving"

I looked up and she wasn't laughing. She was just shaking her head with a half smile on her face that either meant that she thought my sudden response refreshiningly honest, or simply culturally nescient. I told myself it was the first, 'cause I've always believed that your first gut feeling is right 90% of the time.

Well, the awesome part is that I then tried to cover up the flagrant awkwardness by gracefully digging myself out of the hole in which I was so conspicuously flailing. I simply defused the situation by poking fun at MY crazy name.

"That's so..great. Hey, know what? I'm named after a babysitter that my mom had when she was a little girl, that she thought was cute. His name was Todd. Isn't that weird? Man, we're so similiar, you and I. Your mother named you after her excrutiating birthing experience, and mine after a guy she had a crush on. You know there are a few Todd's in the office, guess their were a lot of boys babysitting back then. So different now, don't you think? Can't think of one male babysitter, can you? Those were the good ole' days, eh?"

With the lumpish topic successfully deflected, I quickly exused myself to go to the restroom. Saying there was a man, with little feet, I had to see about some paper work...

If I only had a brain...

Your Thinking is Abstract and Sequential

You like to do research and collect lots of information. The more facts you have, the easier it is for you to learn. You need to figure things out for yourself and consider all possibilities. You tend to become an expert in the subjects that you study. It's difficult for you to work with people who know less than you do. You aren't a very patient teacher, and you don't like convincing people that you're right.

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

I know something you don't know...

Everyone should get one free quirk in life. One mulligan, that says they get to do some crazy, lame, unconventional thing consistently without apology, shame or ridicule. I believe this, and embody it.

A while back I started purposely wearing dark socks that don’t quite match. Nothing extreme or attention grabbing. Just a subtle difference in style, toe design or shade. For instance, one day I’ll wear one black sock with a finely knit gold heel, while the other only has a gold line across the toes. The next day I’ll put on one black sock and one very dark, slightly blue, sock with different elastic ribbing.

My reason for doing this is simple. Aside from the fact that one of the voices in my head told me to, I feel like it gives me a mental edge. As if I’m pulling one on everyone around me. Like I’m really ‘sticking it to the world’ and its pressures to conform with social restrictions. It’s funny, because when I interact with someone, while sporting my collage of sock styles, I feel as if I’ve got an unseen advantage over them. Like when you feel that you know a secret that they don’t, so you get a Jerry Seinfeld like smirk while you converse. Sometimes they ask me what’s so funny, as they self-consciously wipe an imagined speck off their nose or mouth. I assure them that nothing is wrong, really. I’m just remembering something from a funny British skit involving an armadillo with a wicker basket, that they probably wouldn’t appreciate, and to continue telling me about their aunt’s bad case of rheumatism. See what I mean, I own that conversation. I’m in total, albeit slightly off-balanced, control.

Well, that’s how it started, as an innocent eccentricity. Then I found myself asking Annie to start purposely folding mismatched socks together while doing the laundry. I’m essentially institutionalizing my dementia, and that can’t be healthy! I went running the other day and actually wore my socks inside out, and condescendingly whispered to myself as I passed anyone, “I know something you don’t know…” My condition is now spreading to my whites- taking on whole new mutations, ghoulishly infesting other areas of my wardrobe- today my whites- tomorrow disseminating through all articles of clothing like a legion of mindless zombies. Somehow that analogy, dimly characterized in the previous colossal run-on sentence, perfectly illustrates my fear.

Then, resolve returns as I remember the obvious; if I don’t wear unmatching socks, and do so with patriotic gusto…the terrorists win. That's exactly what they would want me to do.

Tofu Wedding

Attending my sisters wedding reception, I found these little white finger squares and thought they were either cheesecake or tofu. Using my paranormal powers of deduction, abilities honed from hours at restaurant tables doing those little puzzles on the kids menu while waiting for our food to arrive, I was determined to quickly solve the quandary. The easy 3 step process below is exactly how I did it- for those of you who may want to replicate:

1. Looked over the surroundings and asked myself; where am I at right now? A wedding.
2. Added a follow-up question; how many vegetarians are likely to be at this wedding? Aside from that sideburn-less fellow nibbling on his cuticles, very few.
3. Asked a concluding question; considering these answers, what is Lindsay more likely to serve at her wedding reception, finger cheesecake squares or tofu cubes? Cheesecake, although she does have a “this will learn 'em” streak…no it’s gotta be cheesecake.

I then energetically reached down, plucked a square and confidently threw it down. Then happily grinned to myself as I looked around, cheeks swelling with creamy bliss, and watched everyone around me tinkering with the same morsels. Their uncertainty over the ambiguous snacks almost paralyzing them in place, I’m sure.

Thank you IHOP.

it's not just fraud...it's fraud with UPS

You know that UPS commercial with the guy drawing on the white erase board, brown marker in hand. What’s up with that? Is he actually drawing it? If so, he’s got a pretty steady Bob Ross-like hand. Personally, I think they use deceitful CGI graphics. If they are just bending my brain with George Lucas-esque special effects I will get mad and never use UPS again. Neither of us wants that to happen. Looks like a job for Sergeant Wikipedia!

Back…guess it is real. But the drawing guy’s hair is not. Thought my eye detected unnatural waiving movement and volume.

congrats mom!

I've been asked to post the video I showed. I hosted in on YouTube, so it's pretty choppy and low quality. Be sure to pause my blog music at the bottom of the page, before watching.

Thanks for all the great times, mom & dad. I'm crazy about you guys...

…as a three dollar bill

Clark and I are sitting at “Todd’s Barbershop”, an old fashioned hair cut place in Riverton that only gives haircuts to men. Surrounded by seven or eight old men, actually what looks like a platoon of bonafide war veterans, out of the blue Clark looks up and tells me loudly;

“Hey daddy, I love boys.”

“Umm. You mean action figures guys, right?”

“No, I just like boys.”

Then he looks back down at his coloring book, without a thought, and continues on with his artistic work. Leaving me to try and find a way to nonchalantly explain. So, flipping through a magazine, I utter to myself, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Ha ha, little tike says the craziest things. Gotta love that phase when they hate everything about girls…”

I peered up, hoping they were laughing. Nope. Just that old timer look you always get, with a subtle head shake, when someone from the “Greatest Generation” thinks you’re raising a “Mary”.

So I just mumbled something about "them being the ones going to an all male barbershop"...but I don't think they heard me.

Little footed bathroom man

Let me lay out the scene. It was my first day with my new client, Morgan Stanley, and I’m at the office trying to build relationships, trust, impress everyone I meet, saying things I don’t mean, like, “How’s it going? My name is Todd, what’s your name? What department are you in?” Or some other nonsensical questions whose answers I have absolutely no interest in hearing.

Anyway, about half through the day I make a pit stop in the “mens” room. First thing I notice is how clean it is, leaving me with a really good first impression about the entire facility. In fact, as Ann will confirm, I always judge any restaurant we go to, not by the food, but by how clean the restroom is. It’s kinda like looking at a girl’s ankles when you’re dating. It tells you a lot about what the future holds. But again, I’m going down a proverbial rabbit trail, pulling me away from my story.

So, I’m impressed with the cleanliness, and even the smell of the bathroom. I’m thinking, “Man, this is a first class company, the bathrooms are like spring time, like the sunshine on my shoulders that John Denver is always going on and on about, I wonder if he works here…”

Then a noise! Scattering my thoughts, like little kittens scattering puffballs of…nevermind, that got away from me a bit. Outside of the everglade scented stall, I hear the pattering of little feet on the tile floor,

“pit pat pit pat pit pat”

I say to myself, in an Irish accent, of course, “Wow, self, he must be a wee little fellow, wearing wee little booties, ‘cause he sounds like an elf wearing ladies high heeeeeee…..oh, NO!”

I rush out of the stall, staring at me are the frightened eyes of a little Asian lady.

“Um, I think you’re in the wrong bathroom, sir.”

I couldn’t think of anything to stay, so I just stared stupidly at her, finally letting the words bumble out of my mouth,

“It’s my first day…my first day. I thought it looked funny in…ha ha. In the last place, this is where the men’s room was. Well, it wasn’t here, obviously their restroom couldn’t be here, but what I mean is it was on the left side of the hall, so I just assumed that…what department are you in? It’s my first…”

Then I tore off like a dejected Napoleon Dynamite.

Ever since that day, the memory still fresh with infamy, I’ve tried not to make eye contact with that lady. Thing is, I see her every single day as I walk out of the building. I imagine her telling everyone around her, after I leave for the day, about the “New perv guy” followed by a half snark sound that I can’t spell.

I’m looking for an opportunity to speak with her and beat down the palpable awkwardness, glaring off me like Bush at a State of the Union Address. I want to say something clever to cut through the weirdness, something like;

“Remember when you walked in and I was in the girl’s bathroom? Boy, did I ever think you were a funny, short, stubby legged man with wee little feet. Or a hoofed half man half goat, fawn type of creature, pit-pattering along. Remember that? Ha ha, good times…”

With just the right Irish brogue, I think it might help out, just a bit…or maybe I’ll just let it go.

Today's word is...

To many this may seem like a "Report from Obviousville"…but I’ve never noticed.

Clay Aiken…Looks a lot like Paul Reubens (Pee Wee Herman).

Creepy.

33 is the hit of the summer!

You know how you read online reviews about movies, electronics, cars or pretty much anything else under the sun. Well, closing in on 33, I decided to manage my expectations a little bit by reading some online reviews about the 33rd year of life.

Come to find out, people rave about being 33. Here are a few samples I found.

“I give the 33rd year a 9 out of 10, the only thing from making it a 10 is the fact that I realize all my cartilage is still growing…aside from that, no complaints yet!”

“4 stars! Now that I realize I’m thoroughly into my 30’s, instead of being teased by lingering memories from my 20’s, I’ve grown complacent about my age and life in general. I’ve found life really starts being lived with this frame of mind. But that’s just me.”

“Runs... like a dream."

“Thirty-three IS all it’s cracked up to be. I’m six months in and I still feel a dapper 32, minus the ‘awkwardness’ usually associated with the early 30’s. You know what I mean.”

“Man, 33 is really something else. By something else I don’t mean it’s a diminutive bum dwelling trouser flea. No, it’s not that…it’s something else.”

“Middle age here I come! Bring it on. I’ve lost much of my hair, motivation, and physical prowess, what else can the years take…as I see it, it can only get better, Flowmax prescription notwithstanding”

“It instantly upgraded me from a 34” waist to 36” waist! I wasn’t even expecting it; it just came with the package. Better than advertised!”

“If I’d known that being 33 got me this many chicks, I‘d have lied about my age years ago…”

So, the next year looks pretty good! However, according to my online research, that’s only the 33rd year that gets these types of reviews. The 34th year gets pretty bad and 35, apparently, is a fate worse than death. Things clear up a bit after that, as many claim they get their “second wind” as they break into their early 40’s. That’s when I promptly shut down my computer, because I don’t want to know anything about any middle-aged man breaking wind…of any sort. But if you’re into that, be my guest. Different strokes for different folks.

Half the man

So, you know all the funny things you hear in testimony meetings, a meeting format that allows anyone to say anything they want in front of the entire congregation, on the first Sunday of each month (just little explanation there for my non-Mormon friends- see this is a progressive, all accepting blog post, open and sensitive to every gentile, regardless of their lame, barbaric beliefs). But I digress…

Among other amusing things I hear, is this little furtive, often unintentional, self promoting nugget;

“I want to say thanks to my wife. I wouldn’t be half the man I am without her.”

Now think about this statement, or one of its many variations, for a moment. They are basically saying that they wouldn’t have ascended to their high and noble position in society, and obviously in the minds of everyone listening, without the stalwart efforts of their wife working behind the scenes. The great display of personality and achievement standing before us would never be “basked in” without the “little people” tirelessly, selflessly, laboring to chisel and hone the one speaking into the final product displayed before our eyes. Much like the condescending starlet accepting a gold statue for her acting prowess, humbly bumbling through a list all those that made her into the wonderful talent she has become. This false, or just slightly lame, modesty is in essence telling us all that behind every great man, there stands a woman. His wife is that woman. While, he (eyes unassumingly look downward) is that great man.

Unintentional, I'm sure... amusing nonetheless.

As for me, I like the more precise approach, saying:

“I wouldn’t be half the specimen I am today, without my wife’s efforts. And my kids, they make me probably 25% better than that even. That’s for each one, so once the whole family is considered, including the 18 months we had a pet, I’m a good 160% or so greater than I could have ever imagined before I started this whole family gig…”

Compulsory fun

So, we signed Clark up for t-ball.

You know- endless summer frivolity and enjoyment. Memorable moments with one's offspring, creating lifelong bonds while participating in the classic sport of the ages. Relationship foundations forged that will span generations, with bat in hand and a father's advice in the ear- "Keep your eye on the ball, son...", "Crouch down with your mit on the ground", "Rub a little pine tar on your hands" and other secrets, never recorded, but passed on only through the most noble of grapevines, from father-to-son. Gamboling through the infield chasing down grounders, frolicing for hours, savoring the last moments of summer light before the sun retires behind the western horizon. These are the sweet expectations of every father going into his first year of t-ball. What I actually got?

A nursery child with weapons...

That's right- I feel as if I've been given the calling of watching a wildly vociferous hooligan that is supplied with pain inflicting toys. Although packaged in cute hat and t-shirts, that hangs past his knees, restricing any real athletic movement, Clark has become a strange combination of Denise the Menace, Chuck Norris and "Stevie" the feral child. Not a good combo, I might add! Between pushing other kids off their bases, eating grass and hitting me across the shins with a bat, Clark has turned a quintessential game of baseball into an all consuming hour of parenting horror. Endlessly, I beg for cooperation with pleads ranging from , "Clark, please run. Don't twirl." to, "Okay, take the bat handle out of your mouth." and, "Yes, that is a nice pile of grass and leaves, and if you stand by second base I'll give you a snack...a new bike...a freakin' pony, now go stand by second base!".

Through it all, I've found that Clark is more interested in BEING a baseball player than actually PLAYING baseball. He wants the glove, shirt, cool white- fast as lighting shoes, the corn syrup served following every game, and the accolades from all, far and wide. He's just not into actually throwing, catching and hitting a baseball. But hey, expectations now thoroughly adjusted, if baseball is about Clark having fun, playing and enjoying the outside..it's still the best time either of us could ever have. ;)

"Now, take your underwear off your head and run to first base..or so help me...!"

Spring is a Tergiversator

I've had it with the weather. So, I'm boycotting it. That's right, from this moment I will be boycotting it and everything that goes with it. No more saying "it's okay, we need the moisture", or "the skiers must be happy" or even, "hey, there goes a squirrel...funny time to see a squirrel this time of year". None of it. I'm officially bitter at the weather. A 100% hater of everything windy, rainy, white and cold.

In fact, as part of my boycott, I'm going to pretend that it's summer already. No jacket, sweatshirt, nothing! It's shorts and t-shirts from now on. I may take the top off my jeep, who knows? If I get really crazy, I may send my wife and kids to run through the sprinklers in our backyard. They have no choice in the matter- they are joining the revolution!

Join us! Let's unite and give mother nature the collective bird!

Or, we'll just have pneumonia and be rancorously acrimonious. Either way...

Ava's Haircut