A Warped Sense of Reality

Sometimes I see things posted to social media and all I can do is shake my head. Sometimes I see an entire string of posts by one person and see that they share all these platitudes that seem to shed light on their personality and how they think. And then, I realize I know this person or people and see that every time they post these things they are the EXACT opposite of how things are.

Today I saw this post shared by someone I know, and if that person really believes this as pertaining to their situation they really have a warped sense of reality.

This year I've opened my home up to others, usually to keep the peace with others in the family, with the idea of helping these people regain a foothold in their lives and get back to taking care of themselves and their immediate family. 3 times I have done this, and 3 times I have failed to accomplish this mission. Maybe it was my fault?

Maybe I failed to realize that an expectation of standards and behavior should not be asked of people who come to live with you. And if they are family then this should definitely be overlooked and all actions by the other party, no matter how detrimental to themselves or their hosts, should be void of consequences. After all, they paid a paltry sum for rent/food, and being adults, or at least nearly of such an age, they should be allowed to act how they want, say what they want, and it should not be considered any of my business. After all I am merely the homeowner who is paying out far more for their needs than they contribute for. I keep the considerations low so that people might be able to have a shot at saving up their money towards embarking on a life of their own.

With one couple, they ran roughshod over us, and pretty much every family member to whom they appealed for help. They burned bridges as they moved from one to the next. Even so, they wanted to go back to where they called home....and yet despite better uses for a few hundred dollars, we bought them the bus tickets to go live their lives elsewhere.
In a matter of weeks they showed back up, with no money and no real plans. I let them live their gypsy lifestyle for a couple weeks, making sure the hardships and disappointments of homelessness sank in really deep. I made the mistake of assuming the lesson had been unforgettably learned. We took the time to get a financial plan and a plan for finishing at least their high school educations at the same time. They got to enjoy the comforts of a shower, a regular bed to sleep on....things we sometimes take for granted.
It worked for awhile....for what gigs a guy with no form of ID can get. Cash paying jobs, so at least he was trying. She stayed at home while we tried to get her mother to help get her forms of ID so she can get a job and register in school.

Everyday, and I mean literally EVERY. DAMN. DAY. They could be heard arguing and fighting like people half their young age. As is my style, I listened, but did not interfere, to let them figure out their differences. After all they are so much 'in love'. Much in the way I see how being 'in love' was taught them by one of their sets of parents.

Eventually, while away for my son's graduation from Basic Training, I learned of my car being stolen right out of my driveway. This is a bit new to me. I'm a very blessed individual in that i can leave my car running in the ghetto and disappear without it getting touched before I come back. Apparently some family who you sacrifice for, aren't quite as smart as those complete strangers who know not to take my ride. When confronted about taking the car by my wife and the implications of joyriding without a license, attitude was given. When the idea of being grounded came about, this 17 year old teenager threatened to move out.  Wrong answer to be giving my wife. Leaving our house because you don't want to follow the rules and believe you shouldn't suffer consequences of illegal acts of wrong doing is no skin off our back. In fact it only serves to make life easier for us.

Fast forward 2 days....I come home from work and am trying to relax for a bit and I hear them fighting. AGAIN. Then I hear the boy state his intentions to leave all the bullshit because it isn't healthy, so he will leave her and move out. At this point i feel the need to intercede. I make sure he understands that given their first foray here being disastrous, that if he decides he is packing up and moving on, there is no coming back. I give him 30 minutes to ponder this and make sure he is very clear in his understanding of what's going to happen. He chooses to leave anyways. I'm left trying to console a crying girl, who hours later is begging me to let him come back, that he didn't mean any of it and was just angry. Naturally at this point I have to let her know that I'm a man of my word and if I just back off every decision I make then my word is essentially worthless and that I can be a simple pushover to the whims of children. So NO, he made his decision and had plenty of time to reason it through before he left. While wear e having this discussion the boy managed to come in through my back door into the house from which he has been told not to return.
At this point I have to question his mental capacity and make him aware that if I lived in some other neighborhood he might have found himself face to face with a double barrel shotgun. Luckily for him i already knew it was him who walked in the back door.

Apparently not kowtowing to the demands of the girl and sending him back out of my house was just completely unreasonable on my part. So much so that if he wasn't allowed back then she was going to leave with him. Again I made sure she understood the ramifications of her actions. I was met with statements about how "he has been there for me when others weren't". Apparently she forgot all the time, money and stress spent by multiple members of the family over the last 6 months or so. I guess since we are family, our loyalty, forgiveness and compassion come at a much cheaper rate that that of someone she hasn't known for very many years and shows no signs of progressing into a responsible adult anytime soon. I do hope, for both their sakes, that this changes very very very soon.

For now they are apparently back to living in a tent on the other side of town. Its sad, but when I was young I was taught that for every choice you make there are rewards or consequences. And one day when you become an adult and move out you can do whatever you want, but you will be responsible for and held accountable to those decisions. I hope they realize in their late teens that they are no different from the rest of us in that their decisions can affect them. I really do hope they figure out how to become productive people. Doing so would put them light years ahead of their parental units, in my opinion. They just wont be figuring out that lesson within my home.

Back to the quote above, I'm sure stories will be told about how oppressive we were and how we kicked them out. Already heard about that last one being told by one of the girls parents after she chose to move out to chase her true love, also an unproductive member of society, ignoring the needs of their kids and failing to take any responsibility for themselves. But if they want to look at the reality of the situation:

Your family didn't turn their backs on you, you pushed away their love, help and guidance and turned your back on family as you walked out the door on your own volition.

Sex Studies Good For Heart Health

Ripped from the headlines: Irregular physical activity, including sex, can trigger heart attacks.

The idea that is found out to be true, and supported by this study from Tufts and Harvard University, is that "regular" exercise can decrease the risk of cardiovascular disease and death associated with it. We must be a bunch of dumbasses to have had some Ivy Leaguer scientists conduct a study to tell us something we've pretty much known for quite a few decades now.

More or less, it turns out that people who are out of shape or lead more sedentary lifestyles are more than 2 1/2 times more likely to suffer a heart attack in the midst of "sporadic activity" or the once in awhile occurrence of sexual escapades, than those who get regular physical exercise, which it turns out, sex can qualify as your exercise, as long as you do it regularly.

As one of the cofounders and head resident doctor at the James Medical Institute's Midwestern Regional Campus, let me be clear on one thing. When they say sex as exercise, they mean sex involving another person (full disclosure: some regions of the country allow for the other party to be a herding animal, preferably your own). Masturbation, no matter how frequent or frenzied it may be, does NOT qualify in the same realm, and has its own set of benefits (a healthy prostate in males, state law barred us from researching female tendencies), and risks (mainly a bad case of 'tennis elbow').




Often, you hear stories of old guys collapsing from a heart attack while outside shoveling snow during the winter. Or at least you used to. With the advent of wonder drugs like Viagra or Cialis, the old men have overcome their decreasing ability to maintain sex-drive and get plenty of practice attempting to keep up with their wives' seemingly endless rise towards peak sexual overdrive. Which in turn has created two new situations...increased STDs in nursing homes, and new employment of young kids to scoop the old geezer's driveway and sidewalks because the old man is still resting from last nights 3 hour romp with the Mrs, sponsored by Viagra. For the manly old men, who still choose to scoop their drives and walks, they don't fall over dead nearly so often anymore, due to that increase in their sexercise routine.

However, thanks to technology that has brought us things like blogging and facebook and email, the rest of us, who don't have medicare paying for our sexual stimulation yet, have become lazy and fat. For some reason, the fast food and high fat content foods we eat now no longer get absorbed and released quite like it did when we were kids. As a rentacop, I am especially prone to this, because only craptastic food is available at 3am when I get hungry, and as a rentacop, I am essentially a non-exercising blob of lard all night long. I really don't have to work all that hard, and everywhere I have to go to, I drive there. Now some might suggest that I could solve the food issue, by buying foods to make my own lunches and bring them with me for when I get hungry at work. To you people I say: Look up a few lines where I mentioned the part about us being lazy. You also say, take some time out of your day to exercise, and that will help. Again: LAAAAZYYYYY. Besides that, when I get home, it takes every ounce of energy I have just to put this blog out for you to read, and to peruse my facebook making snarky comments everywhere.




So, as a self-made doctor, I have come up with a solution to solve my problems. All you female peoples are just going to have to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good, and have sex with me. Its as easy as that. You get something, I stay healthy and continue doing what I do to enrich the world by just being me. And, I'll save money by not having to go thru expensive carpal tunnel or tennis elbow surgeries. And just to be on the safe side, let me stress that this "Health Study" is only accepting (human)FEMALE participants.

Changes

Changes in life are often gradual and only noticed by those closest to you, and to those who haven't seen or heard from you in years. For everyone else, everything is just what it is at the moment.

For me, I am in the process of changes to be made in my life, for better or worse has yet to be seen. Some are known changes to my readers, others are new and hold the potential for me to get an earful over it all from certain specific parties whom I have not consulted as of yet. Well, For those people, I guess this post is the notice they're being given, I'll probably have to start screening my calls to avoid certain conversations I don't want to have, as I'm pretty sure I know just how they'll play out.

When I was younger I always lived for the present to lead me to the future. As I got older, I found that most of my life has been consumed with work for the sake of paying bills. Nothing really goes on in my life, with the exception of those that surround me providing me with something interesting to talk about for the moment. All I have is this profound attachment to the past, and all my stories come from there and there alone. I'm sure some people have heard the same damn things come out of my mouth over and over and over again. Meanwhile life passes by like a long movie. Only I'm not in the movie, but merely one of the people who spent $15 on the ticket, $350 on the popcorn and the soda, and sit idly in a semi-comfortable seat alone in the theater watching everyone else play out their parts in the movie. I try to get involved in playing a part in the movie, but as soon as I get started I just stop. I don't know why, that's just the way it always seems to work out.

So, some of my changes.
1. Well, first off I killed my facebook page altogether. Without warning to anyone whatsoever. I just decided it was a big distraction and time waster. All I did was hold disjointed conversations on other people's comments or on photos, and the occasional game. As I have thought about it, I realized that my application of facebook is essentially useless at this time. So it's dead now. I realize I once wrote a post about people killing off their facebook is just the first step before they end up killing themselves. I can assure you this is not the case. Believe me, I'm just too damn stubborn to die. I have too much of a juvenile and perverted joy in irritating people by merely existing as an incorrigible ass.


2. As some of you know that I've been on again/off again on writing books. I think I'm about 85% of the way there on one, as far as my writing it goes. On the other, its been stop and start, as I keep re-editing as I go along the confusing world of politics and how I see the world and how I think the world should be. Both however have in common with each other the fact that I have taken way too long to write short books, when I see authors churning out sometimes as many as 2 and 3 books within half that time period. It leaves me in awe, and makes me wonder if I have what it takes to even put one out. Nevertheless I intend to see these two books through to completion by the end of the year, and then I have to figure out the process of how to get them published and maybe make a few bucks.

3. Simultaneously, I have another mission to occupy my time besides reading and writing. I have dental work that needs to be done. However, it being me, my dental work is never simple and relatively inexpensive. With my current insurance coverage, I still need to come up with about $850 or so to cover the costs. My paychecks currently don't allow for this extra money to come along in any timely fashion. So I have done some job searching. During the day I am confined to how far I can walk, which limits the availability of places to be employed. As of yesterday I was given a bicycle by a guy who is probably a much better friend to me than I have or could be to him. He seems to give me and my family things, even though I have nothing I see of any value to offer him in return. To be honest I don't even know why I was chosen by him as a friend in the first place. Either way, the bicycle will allow me to stretch out my boundaries as to where I can go for a part time day job to supplement my full time overnight job. I am only looking for something temporary so that I might use that income to take care of my teeth situation, which will allow me to take care of the bigger mission in my life...

4. Military service. I was officially released from the military after 2 1/2 years of service. Due to unforeseen medical issues, I fell short of my initial contract by a good 3 1/2 years. That has always bothered me. And because my current dental issues arose since I have left the service, it is something I must take care of before being allowed to sign up again. In my eyes, the sooner the better. At this rate it's looking like next spring, but we'll see if it doesn't happen quicker. I look at it like this. By re-signing up, I can complete something in my life that had always been my goal growing up, and maybe in the process recover a bit of the confidence I seem to have lost over the years. I know, some weird psychobabble stuff, but something that I think may actually be true in that realm, concerning me anyways. I would've joined years back, but I essentially used my family as an excuse, that I had to stay and take care of them, working away at some meaningless job with crap pay just to pay some bills, maybe knock down some ill-gotten debt, and put food in their bellies and a roof over their head.
My plans are to go back to the part time duty with the National Guard, pick a job that will allow me to serve at the camp up the road from me here in the Des Moines area when drill time comes along. It is also my desire to go through the entirety of boot camp, and be on a standby volunteer list for deployment as soon as possible after graduating from AIT. A lot of units here in Iowa are currently deploying, or preparing for their deployment to Afghanistan right now. So most likely, I'd have to request a temporary assignment with a unit out of state to accomplish this, but those are my intentions. It's not that I'm some kind of war junkie or anything. I've never experienced a real war, and so my desire is two-fold. One is to quickly dissolve any false romanticisms of war that resides in the minds of many young American boys before they get there and realize that long standing axiom, 'War is hell.' The second part of it is, that I might replace someone else who has already done more than their fair share of tours, and actually protect the necks of those that have been braver than I. If and when I come back from that scenario, hopefully I will be more of the man I'm supposed to be.

5. To be a better father and husband. While I work myself into total apathy providing for the most meager of family needs and little else, I find that I have continually and steadily disengaged from my family. Occasionally there are moments where we do things as a family, or my wife and I do things as a couple. Most often though, family activities consists of what my wife and kids do while I'm either working or sleeping. My kids lives are playing out like that movie I made reference to earlier. My days and weeks seem long, yet the years go by so fast I can barely keep up. My kids will still wrestle with me once in awhile, or follow me to the park or on a walk in some blind allegiance, merely because I'm their dad. I hear a lot more though about me being mean, or mad dad, mostly because my interactions with them seem to be geared more towards telling them they can't do this or that activity, or to stop whatever loud activity or bickering is going on. I also know that slowly my wife has been changing over the years while I'm just the lump in the bed that needs fed occasionally before he goes to work. I don't understand much about her anymore, I let a lot of my efforts sluff off into the abyss. I spend more time examining bank balances, paycheck stubs and bills, along with time trying to forget about them for a few hours while online or watching the idiot box across the living room, maybe concentrating my thoughts on my actual work to avoid any real issues. I used to be my wife's best friend. I know now that I am not at this point. And unfortunately for the lazy-natured Mook, only I can fix that, as much as I'd like an easier route of outsourcing that task. It will take massive amounts of effort to develop my ability to communicate verbally and with multi syllabic words and complete sentences, as well as open up some form of emotion that can be expressed. I know it will take some time before I can make my wife see that maybe I am worthy to be her best friend again, and that we can share a love that we once had when we were just kids. But again, only time will tell on that case.

So yeah, I have a full plate and no idea which course to partake of first, next, and on down the line to the dessert. Having been essentially the living dead for the past few years, floating aimlessly along, the task of being emotionally and actively pursuant in life is not exactly what you would call underwhelming. I can only ask that you wish me luck in my endeavors to go from being nobody special to someone who can be acknowledged as an actual living breathing person.

Afghanistan: Questioning the Leadership and the Mission

From Jeff Emanuel on RedState.com:
By now, you’ve heard or seen the news: President Obama (D-IL) has accepted the resignation of Gen. Stanley McChrystal, who had until now been in charge of the coalition’s erstwhile efforts in Afghanistan, and is attempting to demote General David [Betray Us] Petraeus from CENTCOM commander to czar of the eastern front of the [Global War on Terror] Isolated Effort to Diplomatically Prevent Man-Caused, Non-Islam-Related Disasters.




And from the blog of my friend, Scott who is also a professor of Political Science at the University of Maine: World in Motion:

The problem is that planners, both civilian and military, can always dream up a plan that on paper looks like it might work. It’s akin to a football coach putting together a plan for a play that should be able to score a winning touch down. If executed right, if the defense plays as we expect, and if there are no other difficulties encountered, then we should score.

And one last quote:
"I am appalled that Obama did not contact Col. B.S. Lovell to replace McChrystal in Afghanistan!" From Eric Stone, to my facebook wall. What President wouldn't pick a face like this to lead a big and important command?

(Note: this message was removed from my facebook wall somehow. Either Eric changed his mind, or facebook has become involved in the anti-Mookist movement gaining hold here in the U.S.)

Let me be the first to tell you that the Colonel has seriously considered putting his name in contention for the Afghan Post. He has relayed to me, that given the general rules of engagement over there aren't much different than here at the Mookist Compound. He gets to see the enemy all day, but unless he is directly attacked, he is given little latitude to operate as a top notch combat fighting machine. He has informed me that despite all this, he has opened up a can of whoop ass on a particular 6 year old in this household more than once. The Colonel estimates, in his own highly self-important position, that fighting a 1000 fully armed Taliban fighters while weaponless himself would be an easier task than living with the little punk.

The Colonel has decided if these guys can do it, he most certainly could handle the job

That information notwithstanding, the Colonel has decided ultimately against the top posting position in The Afghan Theater. He said he really does have a desire to make it on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine himself, and would have no problems with spewing forth his ideas on how wrong the Commander-in-Chief is on certain issues not having military experience or expertise himself, not on the level the Colonel does anyways. He said he would be forced to resign, or end up in Leavenworth after publicly embarrassing President Obama in a hand-to-hand confrontation. He said if the President, acting as his boss or not, even consdiered not doing exactly what teh Colonel tells him to do, this WOULD happen. I believe the exact words were, "The President would most certainly witness my cat-like reflexes." The Colonel seems to think his use of puns is hilarious.

To drive his point home, he gacked up on the carpet right in front of my feet. Then walked off as though nothing had happened. Clearly the sign of the one master strategist who could win any war deemed unwinnable by humans. Cats are a little too pompous if you ask me, but then again he'd reply that he threw up all over my office and left me, The General, to clean it up my damn self. He could be right.

The Ups and Downs Of Mookism

The problem with being the great and powerful Mook is that it has some ups, but is definitely set up for big downers. The great thing about Mookism is that when things go well, my ego is fed, heartily. When my critics react to me and any shortcomings, I chalk it up to how much I and my opinions matter, and therefore my ego is fed- again heartily. Now, if I could only convince others that I am a world superpower all by myself (and the aid of the Colonel- Rentacop of the Year, 2009)

This last Saturday, we were preparing to have a get together with another couple for a nice dinner at our place. My wife was busy in the kitchen trying her hand at a nice creole-themed feast. I on the other hand was busy cleaning up in the living room while doing laundry. I took one look at the desk area where this very computer I am typing on sits. The Colonel is back behind the tower, along with a lot of wires, dust, random papers that needed to be sorted through, and bits and pieces of god only knows it needs to be vacuumed up.

I shut down the computer. Then I unplugged the tower from everything and moved it and all the wires out of the way so that I could do a little dusting and then vacuum the carpet. Seems simple enough and goes by quickly. Then I take all the wires, plug them back in where they go and replace the tower to its normal position. I commence to turn on the computer. It starts up, makes some funny beeping noises like a warning and then shuts itself down. I try again with the same result. I bother my wife, the closest person to a tech guru of the household, and she tries the same thing, jiggles a few wires after an inspection, and we try again. Same results.


It turns out that I am the only person in the western hemisphere who can kill a computer without actually doing anything wrong. I am beginning to think someone has set the Mook up for a dismal failure. Either to stick it to my fragile ego, or to cause me to stimulate the economy by hiring a tech support guy to standby just in case I want to use the computer. This way, he can fix it after each keystroke or movement of the mouse I make.

So, great, we have no access to the computer over the weekend. This is both good and bad. It is good in that I can spend more time reading an actual book a little more often. Also both my wife and I are not wasting time messing around on Facebook or whatever site we choose to visit. (Editor's note: visiting this site and my blog family however are important sites not seen as time wasters. Thank you readers for visiting. Please check out the gift shop before you leave). So we spent some time playing card games, and also a board game with the kids. This is good time spent when everyone is home alone. HOWEVER, not having access to the computer is bad in that it takes away my excuses to avoid actual productive work during the daytime when I'm left home alone during the week.

Now, being the all powerful Mook that I am, this problem was going to require some real genius work on my behalf. So, Monday morning comes rolling around. I get home from work and the wife leaves. I had two plans of action, as a man always does. The first plan was to jiggle wire connections, stare at the box contemplatively, and push buttons. Plan B was to take a screwdriver to the tower, open it up and stare at the innards as though I have some sort of clue as to what I'm looking at inside.

I jiggled, I flipped a switch, I pushed a button. Nothing. I flipped the switch back, pushed the power button again, and VOILA! Computer is on. Had to check with tech support (aka my wife) as to why the keyboard wasn't working. Got that going, found everything was okay with our files. I informed her then of what Plan B was. I think the schism that occurred in her brain almost caused her to wreck. I was assured that had I opened the box, I would be in for a lobotomy via my rear end and her foot. Not her words, but that was the message I heard. Good thing Plan A worked, because I would've been clueless anyways, and and just more than slightly physically re-arranged afterwards.

So, it turns out I don't need a personal standby tech support guy to help me out. I just have to commence jiggling wires, pushing buttons and staring at the electronic stuff until it does what I want it to do. Like the men who stare at goats and kill them, I obviously have the mental powers to stare at electronics and fix them. It's when I touch them that they die. The Force must be really strong in me. Not sure how strong. Probably equivalent to the amount of strength in a small pony at least (thank you Eddie Izzard for this line).

So, if you have anything that needs to be stared (or is it scared when having to look at my face?) into working right, bring it on over. I'll act as though I know what I'm doing. Kind of like a guy who is trying to be manly in front of some poor helpless woman stranded by a P.O.S. car, thinking he'll get a date out of the deal or something. But don't bring a car by. I have not honed the Force well enough to fix objects that big. I've been doing that for years without any luck. so far, Mookism has a better shot at killing a car than fixing one. So technically I'm still more powerful than they are, but just in one way.

Oh, and in case you were wondering. My wife did a fantastic job on the dinner that night. I don't know about the guests, but I could certainly get full on that stuff every night and add some more weight onto my little frame. It's probably best that I don't though. I might get used to it, then having to give it up after ballooning to 400lbs or more, I might go through withdrawals and THAT would be bad. I would kill more than computers to say the least. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pour myself a 4th cup of coffee.

Pranks and Other Observations

Today's post doesn't have any central theme, other than my weird little observations in life.

Observation #1 (Saturday night): ANY type of cussing causes my youngest child to laugh hysterically. Even if the word 'crap' is mentioned on a DVD, or TV, or whatever and Corwyn is in the room, he immediately laughs. If it's anything much harsher that he need not hear, the reaction is still the same. While he knows he is not supposed to say such words, to merely hear them sends him over the edge.

The other night I was wasting time playing RISK online (I love the game, but the dice rolling concept really sucks...how does one lose 20 armies to four armies on a regular basis? It's ridiculous). My wife was in the kitchen reading and preparing supper. The boys were on the couch, and I hear the words "wiener-boy" and "butt (or nut) bag" being repeatedly constantly as they discuss whatever inane mindless things little kids discuss. But after every time one of these words is repeated they both start cackling. They both have their own unique laughter, which I have determined that I could pick out in a room full of a thousand little kids from just about any distance. The cackling in and of itself is humorous to me. I decided to give it a few minutes to see if the subject would die down on its own. Anyways, I made the executive decision (poorly or not) that such words didn't quite cross the line entirely. That and of course I was slightly amused myself, as I am so often easily amused. Of course, left to their own devices, the subject, no matter how retarded it may be will continue to grow a life of its own when left unchecked. Eventually I, or maybe it was my wife, decided that the conversation was just too much and they needed to discuss something other than the antics of this so-called "wiener boy" and his superpowers derived from his "Butt (or nut) bag". It was time that they expanded their vocabulary's usage for while. Now that I think about it, it was my wife who stopped it, because I was busy facing away from them and holding in my laughter at the whole situation, which included them getting a talking-to from their mother. I'm not sure what it is, but I still find it amusing to watch others get into trouble...even if it is my own kids.

Observation #2 (this morning): BBQ Sauce. I love the smell of BBQ sauce, especially right before we slap it on some chicken to be fried or roasted. However last night, there was still some BBQ sauce leftover and sitting in the bowl my wife made it in. It hadn't been dispensed of or put into the fridge for later use. And while I was making coffee after coming home this morning, all I could smell was this hours old BBQ sauce sitting right there next to me. And I realized, I do not like the smell of the stuff the day after. Made me kind of queasy.

Prank (Friday night): My sister, Becky is great for playing tricks on. You have already read about the trick I played on her with her Christmas gift. well, now I have an even better one that she succumbed to this last weekend.
Apparently, before they went home to Florida, my dad started talking to my niece, Sophie. He kept mentioning how she needed a puppy when she got home. According to my dad, he was sure that my sister was getting a little bit perturbed by this, but all the puppy talk always had Sophie smiling. So my dad calls me up, and tells me I need to mess with my sister a bit on this issue. Of course he called me. As the resident a**hole in her life, since a very early age, I'm the natural pick to keep messing with her.

So I grabbed a picture off of petfinder.com of a small dog that looks like a miniature version (and I mean EXACTLY like) of a mutt dog we grew up with. then I looked up Orlando International Airport and found phone numbers and used the map of the grounds to give her directions to some building and convinced her it was where the live cargo comes into the airport. Becky is getting madder by the moment. She of course thinks to question my motives as serious or not, as she isn't completely dumb. Of course I played it off that mom and dad had arranged for this dog to be adopted, bought a flight for it out of Des Moines, here where I live, etc etc, and I wouldn't go to all this trouble just to mess with her head. Being gullible as she is, she finally bought into it. And boy was she pissed off!!!! She gave me reasons as to why they didn't need a dog, couldn't have a dog, and all that mess. I told her then to call mom and dad to straighten it out with them, and to call me back so I knew what my plans were for Monday (yesterday), since they had done everything and were having me pick the dog up and get it off on a plane to her. so she hangups with me and calls them. I got a call about 15 minutes later. I say "hello", knowing full well who it is, thanks to caller ID. There is a short pause, as I feel her drawing in every bit of rage she can, and then proceeds to introduce herself with the kinds of words Corwyn would begin laughing hysterically at. All I heard was "F**K You!" And then I started laughing hysterically. The way I figure it is that since she isn't pregnant, getting her blood pressure up a bit isn't all that unhealthy. I think she's still a bit mad at me and dad. Later that night I see her Facebook posting that says "My family sucks, they know why". I left a nice comment that says she brought it on herself. She responded to the effect that it isn't her fault I'm a dick.

Well the truth of the matter is a little bit different. Not that I'm arguing her point about me being a dick, because I am sometimes, ...okay a lot of the time. But, I do blame this on her entirely. Now stay with me here. She knows I am into pranks. She also fouled up my Christmas gift guessing game a couple years, a long time ago, and she did it intentionally.

And as smart as she is, and she is getting better at her people smarts than she used to be, she is still gullible and easy to pull pranks on. She also knows that I love to pull pranks on people, and that I have virtually no life, therefore she should KNOW that she is a prime target here. And, to top it off, after actually thinking to question me, she buys my sheepish answer (and I suck at lying, over the phone or in person), and proceeds to get irritated at the gall my dad had to supposedly send a puppy to them. Like I said, she brought it on herself. I stand by my faked brilliance, and consider this prank a successful victory. My dad also does, as he called me back while I was still on the phone with Becky who was steamed at me. He laughed hysterically when I told him how she started the return phone call with me.

I'm beginning to think it is a Lovell male trait to laugh hysterically when we hear someone start cussing.

Getting into trouble (Sunday Afternoon): For Christmas this year, my grandmother and her husband (do I call him Grandpa or by his name? They just got married a few years ago, I don't understand the protocol here), sent us a Christmas card along with $25 in Target gift coins for each boy. Well, Sunday the boys and I ran over to Target so they could get the gifts they wanted, and then we could get a picture of them with their new loot to send off to my Grandmother.

So we get there, and they each get some random toy, but also each gets a sword of some sort. josh picked up a flip-action Star Wars light saber, and Corwyn got himself the sword that goes with his GI JOE Storm Shadow outfit he had worn for Halloween this last year. After we got home, some point later there was a sword fight. Then one of them got the grand idea of challenging me, or having the other brother challenge me. SO we dueled a few times, me vs one, then the other, then each other, all times with the two different swords. Well, we did this in the living room, right in front of the couch where my wife is reading her book. It didn't take long, but we got told to put the swords away after I made a mistake and accidentally shifted the wrong way and caught my wife in the face with the sword. So I apologized to the boys for getting us into trouble, and then as they took the swords to be put away, I sat down next to my wife and began to apologize to her. She told me not to sweet talk her. I said I wasn't, but merely apologizing. What I said next did me in for the day. I meant to say I was going to make it up to her (in a amorous tone of voice), but my speaking dyslexia kicked in and said I was going to let her make it up to me. I didn't realize until she repeated it back to me with an incredulous look on her face. I really need to learn to shut up, cut my losses and disappear after screwing up. I think it is almost in my favor to skip any apologies. I have a tendency to only make it worse, even if by accident. Of course opting out any attempts might get me in just as much hot water as screwing one up. Man, I am screwed!

Facebook-Suicide Link

Increased rates in mental illness and the rise of social networking sites appear to go hand in hand. First there was MySpace. Get a bunch of friends, one person says something that offends their 'friend'. Then the blogs, comments, and messages between these parties and their friends goes berserk. It's a virtual snipefest, just like the good old days when I was in school, and little cliques would form, so people could sneer and snarl at each other while attempting to spread rumors and make themselves look like they have the high moral ground with all their friends. But everything was face to face sooner or later. Not some anonymous postings on random internet forums.

Yes, Myspace is just like high school. Populated with 14 year old girls, or at least people with the same mentality as 14 year old girls. Full disclosure notice...I am not ashamed to admit I have a myspace site still. I am still a kid at heart and have no problem with meaningless conversations or blog reading over stuff that is even sillier than this crap I write.

But then came the college level of social networking. Facebook (motto: We have more people than the planet Earth) emerges. Some of us grew up, and can show an ounce of maturity when interacting online. Relationships are more easily tracked and people grow close. Then, some dumb rumor gets floating around, or some snide comment is made and people de-friend each other again. Only, instead of chalking it up to simple high school moronism, it is much harsher on the psyches of these social networking geniuses. They can hide behind their computer screen and pretend to be okay, but honestly, they are emotionally wounded. Just now, unlike back in the school days, you aren't forced to show your emotions. Why? Because you're sitting in your living room, or office or wherever behind a friggin computer screen. you can type anything you want, shielded from the atrocities that your words can cause. But the person on the other end knows the hurt all too well.

Being an ego-controlled heartless bastard, I am immune to these things. I couldn't care less what the people at some other IP address think about what I have to say. Not to say that I don't appreciate the kind comments and intriguing positions of commenters here on this blog, or anywhere else for that matter. But if someone truly has a problem with what I have said, well, that's their problem. They can either deal with, get thicker skin and deal with it that way, or they can just go away and leave me to my own little world over here. Either way, I don't care.

But not everyone is like me. You see, I have this coworker. We'll call him Irish, to protect his real identity which is Trevor McCarthy. Oops, blew that one. Anyways, he gets bored at work and likes to call me to have random discussions about whatever comes up that evening. But last week he had to train a guy for 2 days and then took two days off. He didn't get to talk to me much more than say 5 or 10 minutes. Then, after he finished his days off, it was my turn to take a couple days off. Which meant more time for him to not be able to talk to me. I can see how this would take a toll on his mentality and emotions. For he is a strange individual, and yet extremely in touch with his feminine side, in that he needs to talk on the phone all the time. Anyone who knows me, knows I hate the phone. However, my ego, having sympathy for those who can't help their pathetically inferior lifeforms, entertains his whims so I talk with him. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work, so be it.

Trevor had acquired himself a Facebook profile and had 'friended' me. Everyday a new comment from him would show up. Then a friend of his enjoyed the commentary and decided I was fun and cool or something ridiculous like that. I am not fun, nor cool. I'm merely so mysteriously fascinating, that they couldn't help but be drawn to me and figure out just how such a brilliant mind like mine works. (Hey, it isn't bragging if it's the truth!) So Irish's friend decides to be my Facebook friend as well. Then, less than 48 hours later, I noticed signs that pointed to a life changing emergency.

My email inbox notified me of a comment from Irish. I deleted the notification and would read it when I logged into the Facebook. So I get to Facebook, and look for the comment, but it is nowhere to be found. In fact, Irish is no longer on the Facebook at all. Gone from my friends list, my friends' friend lists, and after doing a search, he was completely erased from the world of Facebook. So I wondered to myself..okay I was talking to myself, all 23 of me...what had happened. Had my brilliance just been so intimidating that he had decided he had to limit his exposure to me merely to our late night phone conversations? Maybe, maybe not. But then I noticed, that my new friend....his friend that thought I was fun...was also no longer on my friend list. Well, this boggles my mind.

I call Irish's phone, to see what had gone wrong. It immediately went to voicemail. I leave a message to call me. He had worked the night before, so maybe he was sleeping. But then later that night when he should've been going to work, I still had not received a call back. Something was clearly wrong. You just do NOT ignore the Mook. The Mook can ignore you, but it doesn't work the other way.

Anyways, I checked published works on social media as found in the James Institute of Medicine's Journal of Faux Medical Conditions, and found a Facebook-Suicide link. You can read more about it right here. It seems, that people with Facebook profiles who become suicidal do things in steps. It starts with erasing their facebook profile. After all, if one does not feel worthy of existing in this world, why would they allow themselves to continue an existence in the virtual world and close knit community of Facebook. The next step, for cellphone users is to shut off their phone. For they have no reason to await any messages from anyone. That, and in their sadistic minds, it gives detectives something else to investigate. All good detectives have to check the phone records in case one of the callers is somehow connected to the suicide...or the murder made to look like a suicide. And also, it may help to determine the timeline of when the person left their mortal world.

So, not having a Facebook page at all, my ego naturally jumped to the conclusion that Irish must've killed himself. As for the other friend, in a petty way of dealing with Irish's sudden death, decided that if she couldn't be his friend, than she couldn't be my friend either. That's just the way things work. Now I know what you're thinking. This guy is off his rocker. That's just not anywhere in the neighborhood of rational thinking. And to that I say, "I never said my ego was rational, it's just all powerful. Just because you don't understand it and find it odd, doesn't mean that my mind isn't functioning properly. I just see the pre-formed conclusions and work my logic back later to make it fit.

Turns out that Irish had not committed suicide. Someone somehow hacked his account, and there was a big mess, and he terminated it, and got himself a new page. Now you're thinking, "But Mook, if your thought process and ego is all powerful, how could it be as wrong as it was?"

Well, it wasn't wrong. You're lucky it doesn't smite you for questioning its grand authority. Clearly Irish did commit suicide of a virtual nature when he killed his Facebook page. He shut off his cellphone. The next step was obvious, but my ego in its infinite wisdom intervened, and made him go take a nap instead of killing himself. It works in mysterious ways, and I can't fully explain it to you. As for the other friend, no longer being my friend, she had assumed the worst between Irish and I and de-friended me as a sign of solidarity with him. Pure defense mechanism stuff, which is all easily explainable in the worlds of psychology and sociology. But he is back and she is back, and my Facebook friends list has been re-populated to its old numbers. Which is a good thing. Had I been a normal person like you, it might have caused me to go get depressed, delete my Facebook page, go shut someone else's cellphone off (I don't own one), and then gone and killed myself....of course, only if my ego didn't interfere and spare my life. I couldn't afford to test the theory out twice in 2 days.