Happy Mudder’s Day.

This post is about mommies. I know mother’s day was like three days ago, but whatever. I still got moms on the mind.

I have to say that I didn’t really appreciate or understand mother’s day until I was married. I have to admit I was sometimes a thoughtless child when it came to doing things for my mom; I’m still a flake from time to time. I remember the first mother’s day I experienced with my wife. I thought, “Hey, we don’t have any kids, so she’s not a mom. I don’t have to do anything then, right?” WRONG… That was the first of many, many disappointments for Heidi.

I like to think I’ve gotten better at this mother’s day thing over the years. I’ve gone from groveling for forgiveness to “Hey, thanks for the gift card.” I know. Gift cards are sorta lame. But it’s better than spending a night on the couch.

In my opinion, mother’s day is a good time to say those special things. That’s why the Halmark card is usually a no brainer. It’s also good to write a short message in the card, to show that you care. My son Cambell is already a pro at this. His first mother’s day he gave his mommy a card and then wrote a special message. I was so impressed with what he said, I feel it’s important to repeat it here verbatim:

Dere Mummy,

Fanks yu for luve mee lots. You’s a best mum eva and eva. I wuv the waye u take caree uf mi and dive food, diaper and sleepy. I tink u best. Most all, tanks for boobie. Me likey boobie lots and lots.

Wuve bubby boye,

Tambdell.

I don’t think you could say much more. Thanks moms. Thanks for all you do.

At a loss for words.

You can always tell when it’s time for law school finals, the library fills up with panicking students, there are high levels of caffeine and other stimulants consumed, and a slight hint of body odor wafts through each and every classroom. Oh yes. It’s a glorious time. A time for cramming. A time for praying. And, if necessary, a time for crying.

I finished my evidence exam about two hours ago. As with most of my finals, I brain barfed all over the place. Generally I’m a thoughtful and provocative person (extremely provocative), as you can note by the other works of art on this wondrous blog. But there’s really no time to be artsy fartsy in a law school final. There’s really no time to be thoughtful, or thorough, or any of the qualities that are required of a good attorney. Normally it’s a three hour typing race, where the person with the fastest fingers tends to get the A. And everyone else hopes for the all elusive and coveted B-. Yes. How I yearn for you B-...

So, as you probably can tell, blogging has been hard lately. My creative / funny juice organ is on vacation. I write this post now saying that I will return, my friends and fans. I will return.

Here a Nerd. There a Nerd.

This post is about the so-called nerd. We all know the stereotypes associated with the term “nerd” and its synonyms, such as, dweeb, geek, pimple-faced loser, et cetera. I’m sure most of you imagine some four-eyed nose picking D&D junkie when you hear the term. I propose that the general conception of the term “nerd” is incorrect, as I myself have been dubbed a nerd and do not have four-eyes or pimples.

Usually when I’m looking for the definition to a term I go to the dictionary. Dictionary.com gives the following definitions of nerd. First: a nerd is “a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person.” And second: a nerd is “an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit: as in a computer nerd.” These definitions are wrong. For one, if I’m a nerd, then I ought to be stupid, ugly, irritating, et cetera. Those of you who know me also know that I’m an uber sexy beast. And I can’t be stupid cuz I’m super duper smart. And finally my wife, Heidi, will certainly tell you that I’m the least irritating person she knows.

The second definition comes a little closer to a correct conception of the term “nerd” but still falls short. This is because the definition narrows the class of persons who ought to be considered nerds. The term “nerd” ought to include a great many people. I think a proper definition of nerd is one who has an obsessive tendency to master an area of esoteric and potentially useless knowledge and acts out in furtherance of that knowledge. Considering the term nerd with this understanding means we are all potentially nerds my friends. Yes. All of us.

Here you might say, “Adam, I think you’re totally full of crap. I’m no nerd.” To this I say, “My friend, do you have some sort of semi-unhealthy obsession, not necessarily related to Star Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, Warhammer, Star Trek, Anime, space aliens, goblins, or anything stereotypically considered nerdy?” Invariably 99.35% of you will answer, “Hmmm, yeah, I’m totally into [fill in the blank].” Your obsession could likely be reality TV, or sports, or political news, or fashion design, or pretty much any area of potentially useless or esoteric knowledge. My wife, for one, is totally into being healthy and nutritious. Who gives a rip about that? Right? Well, she does and that’s okay.

Anyways, after considering my new and improved definition of nerd I invite you to look in the mirror and ask yourself, “Am I a nerd?” The self-realization that you are in fact a nerd will be traumatic, but it’s okay. Wipe those salty tears from your eyes my friend. Put your fist in the air and say, “Yes, I’m a nerd, and proud of it!” Then go back to your 40k game and roll your D6 and scatter dice for your deep striking terminator assault squad, may the Emperor protect them...

Pontificatus Defacaitus.

The title for this post suggests that it’s about a Harry Potter spell gone terribly wrong. It’s not. Your second guess might be that this post is about poop, or as the academics call it, fecal matter, scat, or excrement. If that’s your guess, you’re right. This post is about poop.

Above is a picture of my boy Cambell, who’s also known as Bubbey, Bubs, Goober, The Boy, and, on occasion, Fart Bucket. In the picture he’s about 6 months old. He’s about 6-ish months old now. He’s a great kid, the greatest source of laughter in my life.

Everything about Cambell, from the day he was born, was sweet…until recently. As some may know, when kids are born their little poopies don’t really smell, at least that was the case with Cambell. He hardly ever had diaper disasters and changing his bum used to not be that big of a deal. About three or four weeks ago Cambell started to eat solid foods. As a result, his little poopies aren’t so sweet anymore. His poopies are starting to smell like my poopies…all grown up.

At first, I was really proud of Cambell. My little boy is starting to become a man. But now I’m starting to get sad… I’m starting to miss the old smell-free poop curdles he used to make. Now, I start to cringe almost every time I de-Velcro his little diapee. Tears roll down my cheek…

And to top this whole thing off, a few days ago, Cambell, out of nowhere, sprouted some teeth… Gosh! What’s gonna happen next? Before I know it he’ll bring home some goth chick that he’s calling his girlfriend and want to take my Ferrari out for a spin. Yuck! Well, such is life. Kids grow up and so does their poop.

My Computer has an STD.

Most of the time we frolic on the internet, bouncing from website to website, downloading software, music, patches or whatever from wherever we please. It’s amazing how one minute we can be looking at stock prices and the next we can watch some guy make a fool of himself on YouTube. We take all this stuff for granted, until our pretty little comps become terribly sick…

Last Monday I was looking at one of my usual gamer forums. (I admit it. I’m 26 years old and play computer games…that’s only the beginning of my nerd-ness.) If you don’t know, most of the time these forums are helpful and highly insightful. In these forums, users discuss how to kill the Wraith-Lord and dismantle the scepter of Orr before the fire titans run a-muck in the Elonan desert, or how the Necron Monolith’s particle whip causes massive splash and residuary damage to light infantry, especially to the Tau Krutalk Mercenaries. I mainly complain about the bureaucratic structure and bulkiness of the Imperial Guard’s technology tree, and how the Bane Blade super-heavy tank totally rocks. Most of you will agree that this information is terribly important and warrants careful and thoughtful study.

Anyways, as I was meandering last Monday on one of my many esoteric forums, I came upon some downloadable content that I thought would enhance my gaming experience. As usual, the little box popped up that says “Windows does not recognize this publisher. Don’t download this stuff you idiot!!!” Having disregarded this box thousands of times before, I proceeded to download. Thirty seconds later, my spyware blocker and Norton anti-virus both had violent and traumatic seizures. I even thought I heard a slight gag.

My little laptop got sick. Certainly I’ve dealt with computer viruses before, but never one like this. It was called something like “VirusHeat.” The funny thing about this virus was that it posed as anti-virus software, gave me alerts indicating that my computer was “extremely” susceptible to spyware attacks, and prompted me to pay $59.99 to download the solution. Just as I was about to get my credit card (not really), I said “I can’t believe some cleaver little bastard took the time to write this program.”

After about three to five hours of downloading the latest update on Norton, running full system scans, initiating the system restore, and delving into the registry to delete the downloaded virus files, my computer now appears to be better. (I hope.) My little laptop has been taking its penicillin shots for the last few days and all seems to be well.

So, my friends, my advice is this: don’t have unprotected sex on the internet. I know you’ve done it hundreds if not thousands of times, but someday your luck will change. Sure you can think you’re a rebel, downloading files, joining a peer-to-peer network, and delving into the darker regions of the World Wide Web, but some day your reckless habits will catch up with you. Someday, your computer will get an STD.

P.S. If you’re little comp gets sick after reading this post, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The title of this post is clear on the matter...

Cage Fights: The Answer to Decision ’08?

In no place is a man manlier than when he fights for his life in a cage. You probably know that cage fighting is the new rage in the semi-organized, semi-professional, semi-underground world of fighting, and unless you’ve had your head in a ditch the last few years, you also know that cage fighting is totally awesome. The cage is the great equalizer, the place where all the cheap talk ends and the winner is determined by whoever is the most ruthless, bloodthirsty, and skilled with their fists. In the cage, two enter, only one leaves. A contest doesn’t get simpler than that.

Standing in direct opposition to the glory and terrible spectacle that is the cage fight is some fan-dangled excuse for a decision-maker called an election. In an election, too rich people spend lots of money so lots of other people will vote for them. The “candidates” make wild and impossible promises trying to appease particular sections of the electorate. They spend months adjusting and curtailing their view, only to satisfy what “they” think the majority of people wants. And, when it's over, everyone ends up being pissed off at the person who wins.

I’m in favor of replacing elections with cage fights. I’m sure some of you thought of this after reading the beginning of this entry. I’m positive that you’ll be convinced after I give five compelling reasons for tossing aside the whole election system for the raw, down and dirty brutality that is the cage fight.

(1) Cages fights are cheap. You probably know that candidates in almost any election have to drum up some sort of cash money so they can even begin to run. This has the unwanted effect of excluding many viable and quality candidates, many of which have new and exciting ideas. To be a contender in a cage fight, all you have to do is show up with glass shards glued to your knuckles. That’s a total of $1.59 for the broken glass and the glue. The cage probably costs 100 some odd dollars to rent. And you could pay a Hooter’s waitress to hold a sign. That’s a total of $53.29!!! Do you have any idea what any election costs? Gajillions of dollars my friend. Gajillions.

(2) Cages fights aren’t bogged down by the half-baked commentary of the media. The media commentary on any election is dull and boring, and most of the time delves into irrelevant tangents about some odd thing a candidate allegedly may have done in the past. Half the time reporters don’t even know what they are talking about; they just read the stuff on the jumbo-tron. Reporters also give themselves way too much credit on the effect they think they have on any given election. This would all end with the cage fight. Sure, a reporter could provide some commentary on what she thought would happen or who she thought the winner would be. But in the end the true winner of the contest would be the one who emerges half-dead from the cage.

(3) Cage fights are more exciting than an election. In an election, people stand in line, punch holes in a card, and then are suppose to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. In a cage fight, people are packed like sardines next to an old rusty cage and watch two “candidates” have it out in mortal combat. Now, you tell me, which is more exciting? If cage fights replaced elections, we could re-live the glory days of Rome! I’m sure you’ve seen the movie Gladiator. Now, you tell me that show wasn’t totally bitchin’.

(4) In the cage there is truth. Only in a cage fight do you learn what a person’s “real” position is. Candidates in an election only speak half-truths or what they think people want to hear. In no place is a man more honest than when he has his back pressed up against the walls of a rusty cage. Need I say more?

(5) Voters are stupid. I think this reason is pretty obvious. Few brain cells are required to appreciate a cage fight. As for the issues candidates discuss during an election, most people don’t even know what an economy is or what short of international relations the United States has. Even less know that the capitol of this great Country is Rhode Island. Replacing elections with cage fights would solve these problems. Obviously the person who wins the cage fight is the best choice. Right?

Just imagine it! Obama and Clinton in a cage and in a fight to the death. There would be no pulling the race card or talking about women in politics. There would be no discussion as to who is more qualified or capable of answering the phone at 3am. The true winner is the one who emerges from the cage, plain and simple. The winner would then face the geriatric McCain. Then we’d see how vibrant and healthy he really is. Oh yes, friends, cage fights are the elections of the future…

Oprah's Big Fib.

“Why don’t you join a mainstream religion, like Oprahism or Voodoo?” This witty expression is what Professor Farnsworth said to Bender, a robot, after he joined the radical religious sect of Robotology. (From the show Futurama). At first read, one might find this little line amusing. You might even chuckle. In addition to its funniness, I think there’s a subtle and slightly disturbing truth to the line: Oprah mania is running rampant in this country and I don’t think we realize what kind of a problem this might be.

Don’t get me wrong, Oprah is probably a good person. She has worked hard to get where she is today and I think she deserves every bit of her success. I remember back in the mid-90s when her show went head-to-head with the likes of Geraldo Rivera, Phil Donahue, and yes, even the king of smut TV, Jerry Springer. This was the “reality TV” of the pre-reality TV age, and she survived it. Now, she’s pretty much all that remains, and has transformed her show into a money-making empire.

Oprah is everywhere. The great majority of post-menopausal women religiously dedicate 30 minutes a day to watching her show. More time is spent reading her magazine and the books she recommends from month to month. Now, doing this stuff is not all bad. Certainly some people find this entertaining. If that’s your thing, fine.

My big problem with Oprah is that recently she has turned acts of charity and charitable giving into a contest. Again, Oprah’s giving to charity and all her charitable projects are not per se bad; overall people genuinely get the help they need so I guess that’s a good thing. I just remember reading somewhere the following advice: “Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them…But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what they right hand doeth, that thine alms may be in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.” (See Matt 6: 1-4).

Oprah’s latest show, The Big Give, epitomizes this passage and why turning charitable giving into a contest is wrong. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, the premise is essentially this: A bunch of so-called charitable people were gathered from across the country. From week to week Oprah gives them a charitable task to accomplish, which she, of course, has already organized and endorsed. Throughout the duration of the show the contestants get involved in many wacky and petty, reality-TV induced situations, as they are organizing and preparing the different charitable events. At the end of the show, the contestants are judged, based on their teamwork, their creativity in executing the charitable project, the overall success of the event, and ultimately how “charitable” they were in the project. After each show one contestant is eliminated. None of the contestants supposedly knows it, but the winner of this whole fiasco gets a million dollars…

Does anyone else see a problem with this? This show is essentially the unholy bastard child of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and the Apprentice. Charity, of course, is about giving to others and asking nothing in return. Charity involves giving your time and resources to help out people in need. And obviously we need lots more charity in the world. Charity, however, DOES NOT involve going on a TV show and demonstrating to the world how charitable you are or how creative of a philanthropist you can be. Just like her talk show, Oprah has turned The Big Give into a money making machine. Maybe she’s not necessarily making money for herself, but she is making money for the network producing the show for the gullible masses to lap up from week to week.

Lots of you probably disagree with me on this point, but I don’t care. You probably think I’m a self-righteous jerk for saying what I’ve said, but, again, I don’t care. When someone or something poses as something that is good and wholesome when really it’s not, I feel the need to point out the problem. Nuff’ said.

P.S. Sorry this post is not that funny and potentially offensive. I promise to be funny soon. But as I said in my very first blog post, I’ve dubbed myself the Charles Bronson of the internet, taking my vigilant attitude on the web to make right what’s wrong, and bust a cap in the bloggers who try to make this bloggin’ world their own. Ka-Pow, Sucka!