Friday, October 30, 2009

My Buddy Jay- ENEMY #98273482

My buddy, Jay, is the reason I came to blog here. It gave me a slightly more mature forum than say, Myspace, as well as a way that we could sort of keep up with each others' busy lives, without having to do that thing women who want to keep in touch do: use the phone.

Well, my buddy Jay and his wife are currently in the process of adopting a couple of little girls from Ethiopia. For more information on that, and how you can help out go HERE. No REALLY, go there and check it out. If you don't go, you can't read the rest of this blog. I mean it. Go now and come back when you're done.

Okay, now that you've done what you were told to do (you better hope you did, I am a rent-a-cop after all and I will hit you with my flashlight if you lied and skipped right to here), we'll get to the meat of the issue.

Recently, part of the process of this adoption is for Jay and his wife to get their passports so they can go overseas. Jay posted the stories Part 1 and Part 2.
To summarize part 1, providing the exact same documents, Jay's wife received her passport, however Jay himself did not. Jay has gone to great lengths to get his passport, which are explained in part 2, making some statements which I have decided to take issue with.

Instance #1: Jay says, "As you may know, I am completely reasonable and patient person when dealing with inept government agencies."

For those of you who don't know Jay, let me assure you, I've known him since he was in diapers, which was approximately right after I got out of diapers. And not getting out of them by merely ripping them off, but by actually being a big boy and wearing pull-ups. Soon, I fear, I may be back in diapers again as I have a teeny tiny bladder. ANYWAYS....Jay is the furthest from being a reasonable and patient person in general, never mind dealing with inept government agencies.

Example 1- (generalities) Growing up Jay persistently stole Christmas lights off a retired teacher's tree on a nightly basis around Christmastime. This is entirely unreasonable to begin with. The timeline also shows how impatient he really was to get back to doing it again...every night those lights were up, for years, he engaged in such juvenile criminal activity. Now, he will tell you that I did this stuff, which (for full disclosure reasons) I did, but only because he was doing it first, and as his boy, I was required by the Bro Code, not only to have his back, but to engage in guilty acts so as to prove my trustworthiness to him.

Example 2- (dealing with authority figures) When I was 16, I decided to take an unauthorized trip (read: runaway) to the Twin Cities. I did not take my buddy Jay with me, nor did I inform him of my plans. This was for his physical well-being, and to avoid rumors that we were off to engage ourselves with gay-marriage somewhere that it might be legal. For the record, we're both hetero, and happily married, to women. But the people in our small town could get pretty imaginative when it comes to cooking up the next set of rumors to spread. Well, after it was determined by my parents that I was in fact "missing" (this is untrue, I knew where I was at all times- even if I was unsure how to get out of a particular Minneapolis neighborhood at one point), the search parties were sent out, and my dad and his dad grilled Jay as to my whereabouts. When asked, Jay stated he had no idea where I was (which was true, and a reasonable response), but then for added artistic style points (which failed miserably..the judges from Belarus totally ripped him off and only gave him a 6.3 out of 10) made mention to the effect that "even if I did know, I probably wouldn't tell you." While sticking with the Bro Code here (which was honorable), given the child abuse history of our dads (they must've beaten us within an inch of our lives a million times!), this was probably an unreasonable elaboration that should have been omitted from his reply.

Example 3- (dealing with government institutions) There was the infamous DMV incident of 1997. Jay decided not to study for his written driver's test to get his license. He failed...miserably. Before the station attendant was able to tell him he'd have an opportunity to retake the test, Jay stormed out of the station letting fly with some unsavory words and something about a holocaust, or genocide, or dead baby seal pups...I don't fully remember the exact words, but it was filthier than roadside motel that rents by the hour if you know what I mean. After having gone back home, we watched a re-run episode of Macguyver (which by the way, my kids are addicted to!), and then went back down to the DMV in the middle of the night (after stealing Christmas lights from that retired teacher's house...for the 2nd time that night). I of course had to go because Jay called the Bro Code on me, plus it was too cold to walk, and I had a car to drive him there. Well we thought we had the whole Macguyver thing figured out, but Jay tried to substitute a strip of aluminum foil for a piece of wax paper (our moms had used all our wax paper up for Christmas cookies and hadn't bought anymore), and we somehow ended up almost 3 towns away with my car landing almost right on top of us. We had to walk back to another town and call his mom for a ride back home. I told my dad a rod went out in my car. He was pissed because he specifically told me NOT to go out of town with that car, but I'm sure he would've been even more pissed had we succeeded with the DMV.

Okay, so that last thing wasn't entirely true...we did steal lights and my car did throw a rod out of town, but the baloney. But it sounded good, right? (would someone keep an eye out to see if that story gets Jay and I on the Terror Watch List please, and let us know?)

Instance #2: Jay says, "I was worried there for a bit, but as it turns out, I am not a terrorist. This according to the United States government who has now seen fit to give me a passport. Or at least that is what the passport confirmation website tells me. It should be in the mail now."

The way I see it, the government may have decided to give him a passport afterall. However, the whole part about him not being a terrorist...don't buy that for a minute, because I don't. I'm sure someone in the GOP put the pressure on some passport issuer to give it to him anyways. After all, Jay has been a very loyal gun-toting, bible-thumping, hatemonger for years now, so whether or not he's a terrorist is just a moot point in their eyes, at least as long as he continues to vote a straight Republican ticket every election anyways.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

High Crime Apartments!!!

And by apartments, I don't mean some projects development in a bad neighborhood, or even an entire building. Just mine. Despite a heavy security presence on site (i.e.- me, super rentacop guy), it turns out I've got hoodlums living right here in my 700+ square foot domain. Right here in beautiful suburbia, a mere 2 minute walk from the local police station even!!!

I'm on to these guys now though, despite their picturesque image of innocence found in the photo shown here.

Oh no, despite them seeming to be cute and charming root beer float eating kids, I have uncovered a sinister plot. It could be mere localized crime, but I'm betting on gang affiliations, or even ties to the mob (the mob does NOT exist, buddy..GOT IT?).

The way I see it, there's definitely a criminal enterprise going on, but I just haven't put all the pieces together...YET! Hey, I may be a Super Rentacop, but these investigations take time. I want to make sure we got all the loose ends tied up before we take out this organization.

You see the one on the left...Age 10, Josh "The Marshmallow Man" Lovell. Last week, I was heating up some hot chocolate for myself, and I was out of whip cream. My wife had bought a bag of mini-marshmallows, but it seemed we were out. There was no sign of the bag, but I just had to assume it went out with the trash at a previous point.

Then just the other day, Marshmallow Man himself comes out with a bag. Not just any bag, but THE marshmallow bag. Now this boy is an even bigger King of Stashing things away than I ever was. First it was dirty socks between his bed and the wall. Now I'm finding dozens upon dozens of candy wrappers in the same spot. Sand is in his bed, don't ask me what the boy is doing, but I'm not ruling out trying to dig an oil well in the sandpit at the park. But the last thing I suspected was that the boy had stolen the marshmallows. I'm not against consuming naked hot cocoa, but I prefer a little something on the top. Lucky for him, his mother found him. she was able to scold him and protect the boy from the long arm of the Rent-a-Law, who was forced to drink naked hot cocoa because of his chicanery! She did explain to him the old mideastern custom of chopping the hands off a thief, though, and I think, rather I HOPE, he has learned the lesson here. At only the tender age of 10, I doubt it. I'm sure I'm in for at least another 8 years of stunts, pranks, lies, and outright criminality, mostly against me of course.

The boy on the left... Age 5 1/2, Corwyn "You want I should break your legs?" Lovell aka BUGGY. Known associate of his brother, the Marshmallow Man, and also the apparent enforcer of the bunch. Yesterday the boys arrive home from school. I am informed by Marshmallow Man that Buggy had hit another kid on the bus a few times. The bus driver had told Marshmallow Man to make sure that us parental units were duly informed. While close associates, Marshmallow Man is also known to throw his partner under the bus from time to time. You want information, he's the one who will roll over for you.

What's scary about the violence is not the violence itself. Had there been a good reason, like when he switched seats on the bus to avoid a beating from some other kid a few days into school, and got in trouble for moving while the bus was travelling, I would've been fine with it. I thought, maybe the boy is defending himself. No, the boy wasn't hitting him, or even calling him a bunch of dirty names, which has been known to set off many a schoolyard fight in my day. So I thought, Maybe he's shaking the kid down for lunch money or even owed protection money that wasn't being paid up in a timely fashion. Oh no, nothing that easy, or even admirable in a weird crime syndicate kind of way. Nope, Buggy's explanation for hitting the kid:

"He was just acting crazy."

I had to take a deep breath and try not to chuckle at this one. For those of you who know Buggy, you understand this very statement is the perfect example of the "pot calling the kettle black." And whats worse, his actions only furthered this idea. I don't have my kid beating up someone for a real reason or principle, nope, he's basically committing violent acts for their own sake. He's craaaaaaaazyyyyyyyy...sorry. Now, the real topper of it is this. He didn't punch the kid. No, he went for the real demoralizing move.
He slapped the kid.
Open handed.
Now that's disrespect.
In front of the other kids.
That is as demoralizing as it comes.

If they were 8 or 9 years older, that kid would be toast for the rest of his school life. Luckily their only 5 year olds. That kid has a chance to outlive this one. Now, lets hope that it doesn't come back on Buggy, no matter how much he might deserve it, when they get older and can do some real damage.

Either way, I now realize I have a couple of little hoodlums on my hands. Do you have ANY idea how this is going to affect my chances at being named Rent-a-Cop of the Year for 2009?? Horrible! Some dumb rookie punk kid will end up getting it by default! I may have to kill my kids before they get much older and find a way to root my wife and I out of the high society circles we've become accustomed to enjoying.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Fearing the Emerging Threats of Headless Chicken Attacks

When I was about 12, I had a kid I grew up with, Cole Long, scare the hell out of me twice in one day. First we traded bikes, and we made our way fom my house down the infamous Platt Hill. For those of you who have grown up in Sac City, you know how stepp Platt Hill can be. It starts off going down at about a 45-50 degree angle, and then about halfway down it gets worse. For a kid going down it for the first time on a bicycle, one would think it was a straight drop. Well, as we hit the hill, Cole informs me that his bike doesn't have breaks. Rather than being sensible and getting the bike to a full stop and walking it down, I attempted to slalom down first, ten found myself taking the ride of my life. As I near the bottom, I see the school bus coming up on the intersection with the cross street. I was too young to have my life flash before my eyes, so my mind played the reel of me plastering up against the side of the bus while the bike got crsuhed underneath the big old bus' wheels. At the last second, I make an amazing 90 degree turn and stop on a dime. As the bus passed by safely, and probably obliviously (it was a blind corner for the bus to look up the hill), I took a moment to check my pants and make sure I wasn't going to need a new change of superhero underwear. I came pretty close to beating the crap out of my cackling friend who stopped next to me.

Once everything checked out okay, we proceed over to his place. They had some animals on their property, including a penned up turkey. My experience with turkeys at this point was Thanksgiving dinner. Cole decided we would go inside the pen, as he "had to feed the turkey." My job was to just usher it to the back of the pen. Being the big tough boy that I am, I thought this was a legitimate responsibility that I could handle. I step through the gate, and then, it closes behind me. I hear first laughter, and then experience fright as I hear and see a demon turkey coming after me in this tightly confined pen within a small shack. After 11 thanksgivings of me partaking of the turkey portions, I guess this was karmic revenge. This turley was going to carve me up and have me for dinner. No doubt he would've spoken in Satanistic tongues as he gave thanks to the Dark Lord of the Poultry Underworld. After being let out, I again almost beat the crap out my friend.

Fast forward about 12 years from the Day of the Turkey, and I am working a security gig at an office building in West Des Moines. Geese had begun nesting in the tree islands of the park lot. While I was patrolling the building, apparently one of the workers leaving the office thought that getting an up close and personal look at the geese would be a good idea. Then she got too close to one that was nesting. Out of nowhere the Gander swoops in and goes chest to chest with this lady, flaps its wings once, and the lady was on her backside. And this was no stick of a woman. She was short and a bit shall we say, on the thick side of things, with a nice low center of gravity. It wasn't until that day that I realized both the level of protectiveness and strength in geese. But let me tell you, the footage from the security cameras was played over and over that night as I and my partner had a good old time laughing at replay after replay of this gander absolutely owning this lady! When I left work that night, under the cover of darkness in my big old black Cutlass Supreme, I decided to venture towards the nest with my car, safely tucked inside the 2000 lbs of American built steel. Once I got close, out of nowhere again this gander comes to his maiden's rescue. This damn bird was ready, willing and did go toe to toe with my tank of a car. Once he realized that he might get run over, he shifted from a full frontal attack to beating the crap out of the front quarter panel with his wings, as he ran into the car repeatedly. I decided for the safety of my aging vehicle that I would bow out of this competition, before it did any more damage than me or my buddy Jay had already done to the vehicle over the years.

Not exactly, Alfred Hitchcock's redition of The Birds playing out in real life, but quite clearly I have shown the active and aggressive prejudice that birds have against people.

So last night before we went to sleep, my wife was telling me about some instances in life when she was growing up on a farm. Well, okay let me backtrack just a bit. The other night I was hungry and I was felling liek having some chicken for dinner. Well, for a few bucks you can get a nicely prepared Rotisserie Chicken from the grocery store. I threw on my shoes and a jacket and grabbed the car keys. My wife asked me where I was going. I told her I was going to pick up a chicken. She looked at me as though I was stupid. "WHAT?!?!"

"I'm going out to pick up a chicken," I stated pretty matter of factly.
"We don't have room for a chicken," she replied.
"What do you mean we don't have room for a chicken? I'm getting a rotisserie chicken from the store to EAT!"
"Oh...I thought you meant-"
"NO honey, I'm not the kind of guy who would bring a chicken to our apartment as a pet," I said. What is it about men and women trying to communicate cross-species like this. I'm hungry, she assumes I'm just following up on a crazy thought in my head. For the record, I generally don't follow up on crazy ideas. I just blog them here, so that you people can keep a good eye on me and my insanity. Anyways, back to last night...

One of the chores out on the farm for my wife and here family was the eventual evisceration of the walking poultry I prefer to call White Meat or Dark Meat (and throw in some mashed potatoes and gravy on the side). She explained the (cool to observe) phenomena of chickens who had just recently lost their heads. Apparently the saying "running around like a chicken with it's head cutoff" is based on reality. They just run round and round for a while. My wife told me that once, even as she ran in a zigzag pattern attempting to evade one headless chicken, it just kept right on her tail chasing her wherever she went. Radar equipped chickens can be scary business. "Goose, I've got lock...too close for missiles, I'm switching to guns."

She also told me about how the heads will just lay there on the ground for a bit, eyes blinking and the beak opening and shutting, until the chickens biological systems finally give out. Now I know how the chicken chased her. It's head was still able to see a little blonde girl who had just whacked his head off with a machete, and was using its last moments to hone its remote guidance system and direct the body after the chicken killer, hoping for revenge before the lights went out for good.

And now, I have an idea to get rich. I'm going to petition the government for research funds. The idea is to see if the chicken is still capable of getting scared, if I pick up its severed head and scream in its face. I figure abpout $10 million in grants should be good enough. I'l whack some chickens, pick up their heads, scream at them...and then declare the stucy inconclusive, and walk away rich. My only worry is that the chicken will scream back at me when it sees my ugly face up close, and the study will be conclusive that I do scare chickens, but not nearly as much as they scare me. I'll be forever known as the scared little chicken boy, but I'll have my money!

Then strange ideas kept creeping into my head as Dani was telling me these stories. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, big surprise right? Strangely they were all movie based.

I answered the phone, and on the other end of the voice was Golden Plump, played by Anthony Hopkins. "Hello Mookie...have the chickens stopped screaming yet?"


A troop of headless chickens trapping me in the castle, chanting (or rather wheezing like a retarded manatee like they apparently do) carrying their big fancy spears as the Wicked Chicken of the Midwest comes to snuff me out before I can get to to wonderful wizard in the Land of Oz, and go back home.

Or, in honor of my watching westerns:

Traveling in my Conestoga Wagon heading west, when all of a sudden the entire Foster Farms Nation came showing up on the ridge line. Headless chickens, everyone of them savage beasts, began to bear down on our little prairie party. As they approached, I prayed for God to breakout a thunderstorm and have these headless mongrels get dstracted by it and drown.

Or the zombie side of life:

We can't go outside just yet. We're safe here. We've got enough food to survive until help can come, and these old shotguns to defend ourselves should the zombie chickens attack. Just remember, body shots won't help. You have to separate their heads from their bodies, just like you learn in any good zombie flick.

"But Bob...They have no heads!"
"Well Sam, I guess that means we're just %$^&ed" Bloody gore ensues, part from the people being murdered by headless chickens...part from the blood coming up out of the headless chickens necks.

Or, a more happy story...

If You Build It They Will Come!!! Having toiled long and hard on a brand new state of the art chicken coop, I looked over yonder to the field of corn about 20 meters away. And then suddenly, headless chickens emerged from the cornfield. Strange that they had baseball gloves on their wings, and the ball caps kind of sat funny atop their necks. But the voices were right, I had built it and here they were Of course, I won't spoil the ending here, but lets say it has something to do with Chuck Norris jumping down from a nearby tree wielding a machete in each hand...I'll spare you the graphics and let you see the movie when it comes out.

Peacelovers everywhere would like to assume headless chickens are just misunderstood, and that we should all just get along. But when it comes to headless chickens, once I get over the laughter so hard that makes me giggle incesantly like a third grade girl for about 15 or 20 minutes before I can get ahold of myself, I am a hatemonger. I recognize those little bastards for what they are: Sadistic human-hating, feathered warmongers, plotting there revenge.

Mark my words, it will happen. You'll be outside enjoying the weather, maybe with your kids playing off in the distance. And then suddenly you'll get the feeling someone is watching you. You'l glance over and see a chicken head laying on the ground nearby, just blinking. You'll be distracted by this, and then, when you realize what's happened, it's too late. Your kids are gone. Out of the tree line, they come fast, neck skins flapping all over the place as headless chickens in a full sprint come to put you out of your miserable existence. People will look to the farmers as the one group of people capable of stopping this new scourge, but don't realize that the farmers were already taken out. Murdered in their sleep by vengeful Dark Meat Special Ops teams. And, these are powerful headless chickens. Raised up by Dr. Chickenstein himself, they thirst for one thing, well three things. They want you dead, some hot to trot hens, and a sasparilla. Because everyone knows that headless chickens can't deny themselves the tasty treat on a hot day of a Sioux City Sasparilla.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Giving Brett the Finger and other observations...

Give Brett the Finger I thought, because of my hatred being openly expressed for Brett Favre, that this google ad on my page was really good, and inline with my thought process, then I read the rest of the little box:

Tell Brett what you think of him! Get a #4 Finger Decal or Cap today

Not quite what I was looking for. I might tell him how he's number 1 and all, but not with the same finger they are marketing.


You show them, you tell them, then you demonstrate it against them, and they still don't get it. Is football really THAT hard to understand? I mean, we're not talking about breaking down the intricacies of the game on an NFL level, or even getting them to understand how to control the game on a Playstation 3. First off, as much as I know about football, the NFL is a bit ahead of my curve, and a playstation has way too many buttons for me to figure it all out...I just pick a play or two and stick with a couple buttons. I consider that an achievement of a guy who grew up with the one button-one joystick Atari era.

What we're talking about is simple backyard, neighborhood football games. The same game I learned to play in the 80's (yeah, i'm that old). I'm playing kids that are high school age, who are smart enough to operate these new-fangled video game systems in their sleep (I'm not), are in shape (I'm not), and can run, throw and catch (which I can do the last 2 out of those 3). And yet, I can take just about anybody and beat an opposing team out in the yard.

I'm not that good of a player, I just know the game, but most of my teammattes aren't anywhere near that level of knowledge. So I play with a bunch of kids, even when I have the teenagers, who understand at best the concept of football. And here I am, a 30 year old guy staring very near the peak of that proverbial hill I'm supposed to be going over sometime in the future, who is out of shape (I mention it again because of how badly that condition is for me), and yet I embarass these kids everytime we play.

The other day, I used my 5 year old. On offense, it was easy...just give Buggy the ball. And while I did a little bit of blocking, Buggy made easy work out of a couple of kids twice his size and twice his age....especially after I pointed out to him NOT to run backwards, but towards the endzone. On defense, it got to the point where I showed the other side a play to run, and LET them run it, just so they would score...

I hate to embarrass the kids, but at the same time I'd like SOME competition. I don't know if I've just aged with the kids who actually take an interest in and try at football, or if its just a city kid thing where kids are interested in basketball and soccer, or "just hanging out" as their main ideas of how to occupy their time. And of course, I love how kids complain how bored they are, but any ideas of what to do are met with the constant phrase "Naw, I don't feel like doing that."

Now to be fair, I'm sure my parents could say the same thing about me back then, but it was usually when there was NOONE to play with. That and their idea of me cleaning my room "to ease my boredom' doesn't exactly fly as a legitimate suggestion.

Growing up in Sac City, we had two things going for us. A ravine, and Witte's yard. The ravine was for exploring, mapping out, and playing war or building a fort. But Witte's Yard...that was football central, and in our neighborhood it was the equivalent of Soldier Field. Hallowed grounds to be sure. Rain, Snow, Sunshine, Cold or Hot, we'd play, because it didn't matter to us when we had a group of us together. We just the rules, and hard. It was all about winning, and effort and all that other crap a coach would say while giving you a pre-game or halftime speech.

It didn't matter if there was only 4 of us, or 20 of us...GAME ON!! And of course I was always out to try to show up my buddy Jay's older brother with my impressive skills, right up until he decided to show me he had moved on and learned even more to continue beating up on me on the gridiron. But now, he too is old like me, and I think that I can take him now...Josh is all broken. For reasons why see this video

Monday, October 19, 2009

49er Mini-Sports Update

The new weekly (kind of) sports forum on the San Francisco 49ers, as determined by Mook continues yet again.

Well, hurrah, hurrah, THIS week, the 49ers did NOT lose. One big reason for this absence of a loss...they had a bye week, and you can't lose if you don't play. I got an update from the Official 49ers fan page over on the old Facebook side of things, which gives me the opportunity to ask a player anything. This week they are offering up a sacrificial lamb in the form of a defensive back. LAST week, against the Atlanta Falcons, the San Francisco defense gave up over 40 points. It was a truly pathetic effort. I have decided to refrain from asking this hapless defender just what the hell happened for one main reason: I already know how the question will get answered.

It will come in one of three different formats:
1. "We were simply outplayed by an outstanding offensive machine."
2. "We mentally lost focus after a few quick scores by the Falcons, and our offense wasn't able to bail us out this week."
...or my personal opinion, and favorite option...
3. "We didn't bother to show up for the game."

I can only imagine. The week before the 49ers demoralize a horrible St Louis Rams team with a 35-0 shutout. This isn't new for the Rams, but holding a team scoreless is something the 49ers haven't done in quite a long time. It's my assumption that despite this last week's game being played IN San Francisco, the players were unable to show up. They were still either partying or hungover from a weeklong celebration after defeating their division opponent, the Rams, in a shutout, giving them a clean sweep over division foes.

All week long, Coach Mike Singletary has been forced to use stunt doubles in practice, and eventually the game in an effort to not completely forfeit the game altogether. A call went out to specific athletes in area junior coleges, and to outstanding high school athletes, who at least could pull off resembling the 49ers actual players. Hey, fora small sum of cash under the table, and a free authentic NFL jersey, who wouldn't take up such an offer. I know I would, under total disillusionment that it would somehow lead to me being given a shot at making the actual roster. I do have mean skills when it comes to backyard football. Why wouldn't it translate over? I'll go across the middle and get killed by a real NFL linebacker, for nothing more than the official stats and to say I did it.

I surmise that the few 49ers scores against Atlanta came on pure fluke. The fake players made a few nice moves, showcasing the possibility of future talent to be used, along with the fact that the few key Falcon players who were to stop them fell over with laughter as they realized who was actually playing them.

So, after this weeks play, the Rams continue their abysmal season by losing again and going to 0-6. The Arizona Cardinals defeated the Seattle Seahawks easily, moving them even with the 49ers. Luckily so far, having beaten the Cardinals, the tie goes to the 49ers. However in December the 49ers will go against the Cards and Seahawks again, so we'll see how that goes as the season develops for each team.

And a personal note to Coach Singletary...I am still open to playing for even less than the league minimum, even if it means I'll be laid up in full body casts for months on end. I'm just saying...

in an unrelated note..a google ad on my page advertises to give Brett the finger. They're talking about Brett Favre, who I'd LOVE to give the finger. However it turns out its advertising fan regalia, like the foam fingers and things of that nature. And here I thought I would be allowed a chance to win a trip to go flip Brett the bird.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Mook meets The Duke

This is a flesh out of tidbit #3 from my earlier post here. It was voted on by some anonymous person wanting to hear more about my amazing life. I sure hope they read it and tell me just who the heck they are.

John Wayne showed his last movie The Shootist in 1976, and later died from cancer in 1979, the year the Mook was born. Over the years, I have seen releases of music from singers after their deaths, adding to their estates' bottom line, including what appears to be multiple outputs over the years from Michael Jackson. Well, apparently the Duke has decided he needed to get in on this kind of action, and shot one more movie. The set was in a secret location...My subconcious mind, where no sane person has ever managed to discover and escape unscathed.

You see, the Duke made a posthumous decision that the Western movie genre was in far too severe a decline, without him manning the leading role. So, after quick negotiations, my mind became the set. This "after-death" production was so secretive that I, being in on it, don't know the title of the movie, what its about, or my role in it. But I was there and making a movie with my favorite movie star of all time.

Well, at one point we finished shooting a scene, and me being me with my mookified personality decided to be my naturally funny self (also read: annoying but self amused). The Duke was off to the side of the set laying down. I thought it would be a great idea to sneak up on him and scare him real quick like. Now from what I understand, in real life John Wayne could be a real mean drunk after noon. And apparently it carried over into the afterlife. Well, just before I got to him, he swings around with his big old boots and nearly takes my head off. I go flying backward and land on the floor myself. Next thing I know the Duke and I are going toe to toe exchanging punches, pushes, and a few kicks. I guess I forgot to read the rider in his contract. Not only on film, but off film as well, the Duke wins the fight in the end. And that's exactly what happened. Apparently the Mook isn't as impervious as he likes to think he is.

As I lay there checking on my bloodied lip, I see a couple of goons dragging in some punk kid who only resembles me because he is white, and in no other way. They quickly tell me as they are going past me, that this kid is the source of the Duke's frustration. I proclaim that if that was the case, why was he picking a fight with me, I don't even look like this kid. John Wayne turns around, stares me down, and proclaims, "It doesn't matter, you got in the way and got what the kid deserved." And then I woke up.

So, in my dreamworld, it turns out my movie idol is a total jerk. I've heard before that you never want to meet your heroes in life, as they will disappoint you. And even if they are dead, it happens anyways. What a drag!

Friday, October 16, 2009

If you could help out and/or pass along...

My friends, Jay and Naomi Burns, are currently in the process of adopting two adorable girls from Ethiopia. As with any adoption, in order to ensure children make it into a good, quality home environment with responsible parents; many forms, policies and processes are involved, and can make the cost of adoption rather expensive. Despite this fact, they are determined to keep on course to start their family. And my family is currently helping out where we can, including facilitating more channels where ever possible to help them out along this wonderful journey.

So if you can, read the following excerpt which I have copied from their adoption blog . If you can find it in your heart to help out with their latest fundraiser, I know they'd really appreciate it, and so would I. You can also reprint this and pass it along to others, as a way that they can help, or even show ideas of how anyone you know who might be looking into adoption can work towards their goals.

Please Read Below, and Thank You:

It will be official tomorrow. We are accepting our placement. As mentioned below, Ethiopia does not allow us to publicly post photos, but we will have a picture with us and close to our hearts. We can send a personal e-mail of a photo. If you would like this, please let us know and give us your e-mail account.

Here's how you can help. Our next fundraiser starts tonight! We have purchased a 500 piece puzzle (below). We will put the puzzle together and hang it in the girls' room. You can adopt a puzzle piece(s) for $5 each. Simply click the pay pal link on the right and make a donation. When you adopt a piece, your name will be written on the back.

If you would like to go above and beyond purchasing a piece, forward our blog and info to your friends. Post it on your facebook, tweet it...etc. We appreciate all of the help that we can get. We need to raise $15k in the next 4 month. This is one of four fundraisers planned.

40 of 500 pieces have been sold so far! Thank you for your donations! If you have not purchased your piece, click on the PayPal link on the right to donate. You DO NOT need a PayPal account to donate, just a debit or credit card. If you would rather send a check in the mail, make it out to:

Ethiopian Hope Adoptions
822 Jonathon Road
Powell, WY 82435

This goes through Harvest Church in Billings, MT ( and these checks are tax deductible. Donations made through PayPal are not tax deductible. If you are mailing us a check, please write on a separate sheet of paper the name(s) you would like to have written on the puzzle for your donation. Again, THANK YOU for all of your help!!


All payment methods and links for PayPal can be found on Jay and Naomi's Adoption blog here and not on this blog. Again, Thank You very much.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Idiot Flips His Lid, I Lose A Day Off!

I have recently begun receiving Saturday and Sunday Nights off. While we have almost completely lost overtime in the Patrol Division of my security company, it is nice to at least get to be home on those days when my wife and kids are home for full days. Saturdays, like any first day off for a 3rd shifter, are long. I get home at 8am, and rarely bother with a nap, so that I might be able to do something here at home, and then go to bed that night like a regular person.

This last weekend was no different. I did catch a short nap, sort of, as I went in and out of consciousness with a football game playing on the TV. No big deal. Sunday I got up, went to church, came home, watched football and was hanging out while waiting for my wife to make supper for the family. At about 6pm, the phone rings, and my caller ID says its my boss. Part of me holds out hope that he's just calling me to tell me some really great story, or ask me some dumb question that even someone of my diminished mental capacity can answer.

"What're you doing tonight?" is the first question. This very question almost verbatim every time he calls me, is code for "I have work for you tonight."

So he offers me 3 options. Option #1 is to tell him to take a flying leap, I'm staying home tonight. Option #2 is to work 8pm to 6am patrolling Wells Fargo Properties. Option #3 is to do my normal patrol route on the 8pm-8am shift, and the guy who would have worked it, will do the WF patrols. Naturally, knowing the pecking order around here, I tell my wife what my boss is telling me. She immediately authorizes the 8p-8a shift. It was almost too quick. I suspect she holds weekend keggars after the kids go to bed whenever I have to work. Her new promotion has had her dealing with a few stressful situations (which cause amusing snafus with the voicemail setup at her work!!), so maybe she really is going to blow some of that steam off...right after I get my butt to work.

So, I agree to work, as a good husband who listens to his wife would do. Then I think to ask, what's up with the Overtime I'm being offered here. I would've said no, but with the Holidays coming up we need the money (read: my wife needs the money to go buy the gifts, and attach my name to them later).

From what I understand, (and mind you I only have half a story, as a lowly little peon in the company) is that some guy calls up on a blocked number to Wells Fargo, on the same line for local area customers, as opposed to a general national number, and starts wigging out. Apparently Wells Fargo appraised his property and he didn't like the figures. And I guess this warrants telling them essentially to "eat shit and die" (or something similar), and "they're gonna pay for this", along with, "this will be the kind of shit that you'll see on CNN" (again paraphrasing similarly aligned comments).

Some companies just dismiss anything and everything coming from the outside world (read: customers), and other companies hear a few keywords and freak out. I guess, and this is my opinion, that Wells Fargo deemed this as a threat along the lines of a big shootout or a bombing of buildings or something. So they call up our company, who does their security around these parts, and ask for extra protection at all their buildings in the metro area. We have guards in all these buildings, buildings that have cameras all over the place, and many have roving patrol presence anyways, but we have now stepped it up. More patrolmen, including patrols from our esteemed manager on duty, are there to save Wells Fargo from any doomsday prophecies being carried out by an irate customer over a phone line.

So naturally, my boss knows I like to have a little overtime, and he knows that whatever role I'm in, I'll do a good job. (Proof is that I was Rentacop of the Year, 2 years in a row....a made up award upon which I'm one of the few permanent voting committee members!) I enjoyed the opportunity to make some more money and see my paycheck almost approach the point where the boss actually pays me, instead of me giving him $15.47 contributions for the pleasure of laboring for him. But at the same time, I kind of hated to give my day off up, especially since I had gotten up before 9am, and wouldn't see any chance for sleep until after 8am the following morning.

So Black Sentinel since you requested it, that's my story. You may have some idiot readers at your blog, but I have to put up with the potential for idiots who honestly think they have time for shenanigans in the real world (which make me actually have to work and pay attention at the same time, which is blasphemous thinking in my book!), when they should be busy reading and leaving stupid comments on OUR blogs!!!

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

MIA: Mookie’s Tidbits to catch you up

Okay, so most of you know that We here in the Mookiefied Compound have undergone and survived one of the most hideous scenarios life can throw at us. Victims of a limited Nuclear Strike? NO. Attacked by a gaggle of venomous ducks in our sleep? Getting warmer, but no. H1N1 Flu takeover within the walls of the compound? I think it was trying, but No.
No, it was even more devastating than that:
That’s right…computer meltdown. After a few years of hearing advertisements about avoiding data loss in the event the computer shows us the “blue screen of death” by using their hard drive backup systems, we finally saw it….and without hard drive backup. Material for 2 different books, contact information for everyone we know, 6,700+ photos taken over many years…all gone. The ability to procrastinate real priorities by submersing ourselves into the internet news sites and blogs for information and entertainment, or playing dumb games like MafiaWars on the FaceBook… God please don’t take these options away from us!

Luckily, I, General Mook, being the great and resourceful leader that I am, had already procured the means to overcome this issue. Yes, I married a woman, who has an aunt and uncle who are computer geniuses. (What a strategic alliance I made!!!) The motherboard was in fact fried, more so than the Colonel’s Secret Recipe. And by Colonel, I mean Sanders…not my cat. However…all that information and all those memories taking shape in photos…RECOVERED!!!

So, today, I bring you fine readers a collection of headlines of events that have gone down over this time period of absence. If you find a topic you’d like to see more detail on, out of this list, merely make the request in the comment section.

1. Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell’s request for an XO denied.

While skimming thru the paper, I saw the Animal Rescue League page…there was a cat, already named Major pictured there. The General’s wife vetoed this option faster than the General could pass on the request.

2. Buggy’s Book of Digestive Biology Expands

Following his previously published comments of food melting into poop, Dr. Buggy now explains how chili and my digestive system work all the way to the end where the black beans committed suicide.

3. Mook And John Wayne Shoot a Movie Together, Scuffle Ensues

So, once in awhile I have some weird dreams. But hey, I got to be in
A movie with my favorite movie hero, and we end up in a fight even though it was some other idiot that pissed the Duke off.

4. Idiot Flips his lid, makes more work for me.

Some moron phoned Wells Fargo, made big threats and I get called in on my day off. I have mixed feelings about this.

5. 49ers Sports Update

I miss the 49ers get their first shutout of the season against an admittedly horrible St Louis Rams team; the following week, the 49ers apparently missed their own game (at home!), forcing Coach Singletary to hire stunt doubles at the last moment to take on the Atlanta Falcons.

6. Boy comes home sick, H1N1 tries to kill him; father instead chooses
to kill boy with board games.

So the oldest son comes home not feeling well, running a fever, and gives himself a 3 day holiday in advance of the impending 3 day weekend. 6 days off, in a row?? For a fever? Oh well. Was it H1N1? Probably not, but even if it was, all anyone needs is for my immune system to be in the same general area, and any sickness will meet its own grim destiny. So, the boy… he wants me to play games with him while we’re stuck at home. First its checkers…victory: DAD. Chess is semi-taught to the boy upon request: victory: DAD. Then the boy wants to learn the game of Stratego. I try to teach him, but he really should warm up for this game with lesser players until he gets the hang of things. I have never been defeated in this game…and I mean NEVER…needless to say, this streak is still going strong. I have my first serious challenge coming up over Christmas. I have a date with demoralizing a certain rocket scientist I call my brother-in-law.

7. Backyard Football Hero Still Golden, Even as Golden Years Threaten To Approach

I wasn’t the oldest guy out there. The guy downstairs who is almost old enough to be my dad was out playing with us, despite having thrown his shoulder out prior to any games. We played two-hand touch. Partially for him, and partially for a couple little kids who aren’t as excited about the violent prone sport of football. In what can only be described as a magnificent-but-beautiful failure, I showed why coming out of retirement for Neighborhood Football was a great idea. I ran myself into a corner where a big old bush cut me off. I was tagged out in mid leap, but I cleared that bush entirely and landed on a much lower altitude of ground on the other side and rolled over a sidewalk. I’ll feel that for days, but it showed I still have great athletic prowess. Later in the week, we played tackle football, which included kids who were presumably in shape and of the mid-teen age range. While that kid scored a few times, I once again, in Favre-like fashion, drove my team down for score after score after score.

8. Wife gets promoted

Yeah so she gets promoted..yeah I know...AGAIN! what a showoff! And in the process of getting set up she has to have her own phone put in....they activate a phone for her...only not the one in her little cube office....just some phone on the floor, which leads to a nice little treasure hunt. She finds phone, sets up voicemail, and in the process of it all spills coffee, and leaves a greeting for callers that calls them out with an expletive...

So yeah, that's the basics of what happened. Again, if you want more detail, please vote for what you want to see posted in its entirety, in the comment section.

And....we're back!

Yes! It's up and running again. Working on a loaner box at the moment, but able to connect and infiltrate the minds of my faithful readers with more mookified truisms. Blogs to come!

Friday, October 2, 2009

I am not ignoring people

Had some technological issues with the home computer this week. It seems a driver is fried and till that is fixed, will not be able to access blog, email, or anything else. I'm not ignoring anyone, I promise. Be ready for a backlog of blogs when we are up and running again.