Lord make me more humble.  Please....before I turn into a complete  poop sniffer.



I am sure it is not just me, but every now and then I can find myself being a judgmental worm-licker.  It is not that I mean to be, it's just that I sometimes drink my own Kool-Aid that poisons me with stupidity and arrogance.  Today I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop trying to mind my own business when the winds of self-righteousness blew into the gapping hole between my ears.  I was trying my best to not overhear everyone else's conversations...but everyone was talking so loudly....and what I heard made me irrattionally angry at the human race.

Thank God that my inner Jimmy Cricket does not take much crap from me.  He is able to supply me with a metaphysical crowbar to the he-he--na-na's whenever I start feeling "above" anyone else.  (yes, I know of the absurdity of idea of me feeling "above" anyone else since my chin comes up to people's navel fuzz) 

Here is a collection of the passing thoughts I was having, which is followed by the response of my conscience:

(by the way my conscience spoke to me in a manner that sounded exactly like Joe Pecsi in Goodfella's)




John Asks: Why is it that people think everyone wants to hear them talk about politics all the time?  Good God....don't you get tired of repeating the talking points from last nights MSNBC or Fox News Broadcasts?

Joe Pesci Conscience (JPC) Response: Mind your own business.  Do you think that other people around you like to hear you go on and on about your theory on how you believe that Regis Philbin is not really a human?  The point is just stop listening and let people say what they need to say without having a punk like you eavesdrop.

John Asks: Why is everyone around me seem so negative and unhappy all the time?

JPC Response: Isn't about time for YOU to stop worrying about the shit you can't control?  How many hours a week to you waste trying to solve things outside your realm of control.  So stressing over that stuff you filthy chump, and maybe just maybe you will be able to crack a sincere smile every now and again.

John Asks:  Why is it important to "be right" all of the time?

JPC Response:  Are you kidding me?  You will argue anything (even if it is ultra-crazy...like the time you spent trying to convince people that you could withstand a shark attack with only a pair of flippers and a jar of gravy) for hours.  You need to remember that just because you say the last word does not mean you were "right".  And by the way you are usually wrong.  And also, please don't try and fight a shark.  You will lose.   Sharks have teeth that can slice through bone...and while your high pitched shrieking might attract some dolphins I doubt they would intervene when they catch sight of you speedo you would probably be wearing.

John Asks:  Why do the contestants on American Idol seem so lame this year?

JPC Response:  You should watch less Television. 

John Asks: Why is it that some people cannot get over things that happened to them years ago?  People should be more forgiving.

JPC Response:  Holy crud you are an idiot.  You are the one that needs to let go of all the unresolved resentments and crap that pile up in you.  I have a news flash your inability to forgive does not mean you are holding to your principles...it makes you a prick!

John Asks: Why is it that a lot of people can't love their fellow man as much as they claim they love their God?

JPC Response: Why don't you try being more compassionate yourself...maybe that will show em'.  Sheesh.

John Asks: Why is it a generation of children are being diagnosed with autism and the only time we hear about it is in April or when Larry King books Jenny McCarthy as a guest?

JPC Response:  Why don't you try being a better advocate yourself...maybe that will show em'.  Sheesh.

John Asks:  Doesn't it seem like people are less responsible these days?

JPC Response:  The fact that you ask this question makes me want too vomit up a bucket of liquid outrage.  Do you know where you wallet is right now? Or can you tell me how many times just this week you have frantically searched for your keys?  Can you tell me how to operate the washing machine?  Um...how many cell phones have you broken this year?  The point is you of all people should never question how responsible people are.  It would be like a vampire giving someone advice on solar panel repair.  Dude.....

John Asks: How come I am the best looking guy in the room right now?  I mean, I am more ripped than a denied credit card.  I am like 50 % Aquaman and 50% 1993 Christian Slater.

JPC  Response: Uh huh.  When was the last time you could see your own feet? 

John Asks:  Everyone is complaining about something today!  Why is it people are not grateful for anything they have?

JPC Response: Good question Hoss.  When was the last time you thanked your lungs for working perfectly or you thanked the person who restocked the Lucky Charms at the store?  You just expect those things to happen without any thought.  You never give pause and appreciate the countless tiny miracles that slip past you everyday.

JPC Final Statement:  The truth is John, the moment you stop complaining about other people is the moment you can learn how to love them.  You give yourself a chance to be human and have weakness and shortcomings.  (by the way you must be extra-human because you have a lot of weaknesses and shortcomings)  Just give everyone the same chance to be human as you give yourself.


John Final Statement:  I think you gave good advice Joe Pesci Conscience.  Thank you.  I needed that dose of humility.

JPC:  You are welcome.

John:  I wonder why people never pickup after themselves.  I hate that.

JPC:  You're a mindless nimrod. Sigh....

        

So...this is what I did today:

        

Here is a new favorite song for me this week.  I am certain that I will listen to it enough in the next day or two that I will grow to hate it like it was sung by The Wiggles.  However, for right now this is the tune (accompanied by the video that I cannot decide if it is perfect or creepy x 10)  that is speaking to me today on the first day of March:

Open ye' mind up to new music!!!



Acts of Man
by Midlake

If all that grows starts to fade, starts to falter
Oh, let me inside, let me inside, not to wait
Let all that run through the fields through the quiet,
Go on with their own, on with their own hidden ways

When all the newness of gold travels far from
Where it had once been born like the earth over years
And when the acts of man cause the ground to break open
Oh, let me inside, let me inside, not to wait

Great are the sounds of all that live
And all that man can hold

If all that grows starts to fade, starts to falter
Oh, let me inside, let me inside, not to wait

Great are the sounds of all that live
And all that man can hold

Great are the sounds of all that live



Getting blog entries in these days have been difficult.  There have been many reasons for my lack of bloggy related typing.   I am a little out of rhythm lately.  I am feeling restless and unsettled.  Which, to be honest is great.  Most of my life lately has been spent feeling content....and when Johnny feels content he gets as much done as Congress.  When my soul feels uncomfortable it seems to precede something productive happening in my life.  Things have been to quiet lately.  I am in great need of chaos.  I am really glad that Ozymandian is getting back into action this next weekend.  There is nothing better to feed my restless heart than a creative project....

Don't you hate it when everyday feels the exact same?  We get up, we jump through the same hoops, shake the same hands, have the same 10 second conversations with people, and embed our heads on the pillow with the same hope that something will happen the next day to shake things up.  There can be, something comforting with routine...but there is also something very scary about it as well.  We get too comfortable with what we have and we don't take risks because we are content to sit on the sidelines and wait.  I

God, I am happy you have seemed to stop granting me patience.  I am ready for something new.  I don't really care what it is...maybe it is a new sub to try and Jimmy Johns...or maybe it is time for my new tattoo. (yikes...probably not.  I am against pain still)

I am waiting a new door to crack open this week.  Oh, let me inside, let me inside, not to wait. 

        

Last week my wife and I received a memo from our son, Noah, who is set to turn ten next month.  I think this was a school project, but I am not for sure on that yet.  In his communication with us he is letting us know a few things:

1) He has already surpassed my ability to formulate an argument and defend his position.

2)  I should stop worrying about him so much....

3) The Hulk remains a big draw for children.


Here it is in it's original format:


Dear Mom and Dad,

I, Noah Roedel think I should be allowed to stay up 30 extra minutes on the weekend.  I would like to stay up and watch X-Men, because it has the Hulk guest staring in it, and he is my favorite.  Also, I would like to eat a slice of cake.  By staying up, I would have plenty of time to eat the whole piece by myself.  Then of course I will need to get all of that sugar off of my teeth.  Staying up later would give me plenty of time to brush my teeth.  Please think hard about letting me stay up 30 minutes later on the weekend. 


Love,


Noah



It was hard to argue with that.....Noah FTW!

        

Here is a new sub topic for my blog.  Every now and again I am introduced to a new song that connects with me on such a level that I truly believe that it was written just for me.  Yes...apparently the world revolves around me.  Some people need a morning run in order to clear their minds for the day.  While I need to incorporate a morning run, (although my heart could explode like Planet Krypton if I tried more than a slow shuffle) I spend a good part of my early day listening to music.  In order to have a good day I need a fantastic song that speaks to me...and if the song is new to me then it is even so much better!

Here is one of those songs.  It is by a wonderful group call the The Avett Brothers.

The lyrics and the music just won a slap and pinch fight with my heart....


I dare you to listen and not be moved. 






"Head Full Of Doubt / Road Full Of Promise"

There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it

There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

There's a darkness upon you that's flooded in light
And in the fine print they tell you what's wrong and what's right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

        

After reading through the part one of this blog entry I think I may have misrepresented myself a little bitty.  I feel that it is important that I set the record straight and help rebuild my image after I may have presented myself in a poor light.  In order to do that I have prepared a brief statement: 



Hello friends/blog readers/IRS audit agents/potential employers/family members who no longer look me in the eye,

In my previous blog entry I believe that I may have mistakenly implied that any potential job interview with me would be infused with enough mega-weirdness that would even leave Paul Ruebens uncomfortably in his velvet chair.  I apologize if that is how you interpreted my perspective in that manner.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  If you and I are destined to sit down together to discuss my potential service to you and your company I can promise you that it would feel like you are having a meaningful heart to heart with your very attractive best friend.  Any job interview with me would be a life changing experience for you and your family!  Please disregard any of the phrases that I said would be part of our vocational discussion.  They are not representative of the delicate words I would craft just for you during our especially special time together. In fact here are the words that I imagine would spill from your mouth during the wanning moments of your interview with me:

 "Can you believe how well this interview is going?"

"My Goodness!  Your hands are very strong." 

"I have never interviewed someone who is so much smarter than me." 

"You and I are like a couple of Old Navy Buddies talking about years gone by. Lets cuss and drink scotch a bunch before I hire you!"

 "Can you please show me your birthmark that looks like a terrible tattoo of Tony Danza again?"

"Thanks for the advice on how to save my marriage!"

"Holy Cow.  I think we are going to have to give you twice the salary we advertised for.  You are too powerful not to overpay.

"You are so amazing that I bet within twenty minutes of your time here you will make my job obsolete!  Wow!"

"I want you to meet my children.  You can then pick any of them to call your own." 

"I love you.  I mean I really, really, really, really, really, really love you.  Really. Love. You."

"This must be what it is like when  Bruce Lee interviewed for the title of "Global Bad-Ass".

"Mr. Roedel, please help me to shave your initials into my Yeti-ish back hair"

"This is the most emotional day of my life.  Discovering your talent and then having the chance to hire you is like finding a lost unicorn, training it to dance, and then giving it to my clapping daughter at her four year old birthday party...John Roedel you are my dancing unicorn..."

"I will never let you go.  I mean that.  Get used to me hugging you. All the time."


As you can see I would make an awesome magical  trancedent   soul-awakening candidate to interview me for a potential job.  While I am still waiting to hear back from Universe INC. about the managerial position I applied for, please feel free to call me so that we can set up our chit chat.  I promise it will   stain leave a divine mark on your heart. 

Thanks, and I look forward to you tanning in my incredible rays of giftedness and radiant superness during my upcoming job interview with you.

John K. Roedel  (the K stands for Sexy!)



Whew!  I feel much better now that is out of the way! 

I am a little frustrated that I have not heard back from The Universe in regards to me taking over.  I am sure that they will get in touch with me soon...but really I feel like a man of my qualifications and developed chin fat should not have to wait so patiently.  Seriously if a little white plastic stick only needs 60 seconds to tell me the news of impending parenthood how can it take so long for me to hear that I am being considered for chief dog?  So, while I wait I am forced to spend my time just spinning my wheels...doing nothing but drinking Starbucks, playing Xbox, and staring at myself in the mirror long enough to where I start to look like Star Jones.   During this time of job-limbo I have been spending some moments of my day trying to think about all the things I will do when I become in charge of the Universe.

In part one of this blog entry I listed all the things that I would do away with.  I left off with my pledge to get rid of all Playgrounds. I think that perhaps I was overstating it a little.  I don't think we need to get rid of every single playground...just the school playgrounds.  Those places I would burn to the ground with my Master Of The Universe Laser Eye Vision.  (MOTULEV for short)



Take that School Playground! John Roedel's all powerful eyeball lasers got you!  Face!


School Playgrounds give me emotional heartburn.  I hate them.  Not because I had some terrible experience when I was a young Tom Selleck Crushin' lad.  I had a great time on my school's playground...but most of that was at the expense of other kids.

You see when I was a little kid I was a major punk.  My behavior back then could only be labeled as "Ass monkey-ish".  I was your typical jerkfaced child who used to use verbally crowbar various other poop children in order to get a laugh out of the mob of children that used to gather to watch my sideshow act.   Here is a shocker:  I was a lot smaller than the rest of the kiddos in my class so I had to find a way to keep out of the bullseye of the surprisingly edgy Catholic School bullies. If it had not been for my semi-quick wit and ability to make a joke out of thin air I would have been an easy target for the scum of the Playground.  The best method of keeping my tushy wedgie free was to make the bullies laugh.  And make them laugh I did....however that usually came at the expense of the other kids who were easy targets.

Instead of bonding with my fellow potential victims to rise up against the machinery of overly hormoned and mustache farming grade school bullies I decided to betray my own kind and send them to the emotional woodshed in order to save my own social status.  In my playground you were either the picker or the picked on and I did not have the courage to ever be the latter of the two.

I was cruel.

I was mean.

I made fun of my fellow students for any weakness I could find.

I would do anything to keep the spotlight off of me.

Anyone but me....anyone but me.  It was jungle law....

I was worse than the bullies I served.  I did not punish people because I felt like I was honoring some bully code that was directing me to maintain the social hierarchy that is established.  I emotionally bullied because I was a coward.  Because I was afraid of being the one who was in the center of the circle of laughing children who were laughing at me for all the wrong reasons.

In order to stay on the right side of the laughter I would search for any reason to bring someone down. 

If you had a bad hair day you can be assured of a newly penned song that I would write and then teach a dozen other children that would detail your unkempt mullet.  This would keep people from noticing the fact that I had freakishly long and pointy sideburns that could be substituted as a jump rope.

God forbid if I ever noticed you wearing the same shirt twice in one week....I had the terrible ability to make your life hell just for that offense. 

I could find comedy gold in anything you did that made you appear weak.  Your weakness was the only camouflage I needed for my own.

I have no idea how many hearts I broke on that damned playground...or in the halls....or at the desks....

I know that it was too many.

I have no idea how many of my peers I sent home from school wondering what they did that was so wrong.....

I know that it was way too many.

I have no idea how many chances I missed to just do the simple thing of treating my fellow students like a human...

Countless....I am certain there were countless chances.



It was not until later in my life that I realized that I used my humor as a club rather than a violin.  I beat the holy hell out of people to save my skin.  What a creep I was.  There is not a day that passes where I don't regret how petty I was back then.

Yes, I know that a lot of children are like that.  It is said we don't know better.  That in a lot of ways school is just a matter of survival as it is about education.  I am sure that I am not the only skuz-bucket who was merciless to any other child who appeared different.  I am sure that today that practice continues between the chain link fences of Schoolyard Playgrounds everywhere.  The seemingly strong prey upon the seemingly weak is a dance that still cha-cha's on...

That is what scares me my atoms.

As a daddy to a child living with autism I fret about what goes on at my little guy's playground.  I know how I was as a child....and I know that someone like my child would have been a very easy target for me.  What would I have done?  Would I have been kind?  Would I have looked passed his differences?  Would I have reached out my hand to him or would I use him as a sacrificial lamb?  I am ashamed to admit that I am pretty sure I know what my answer is....and it makes me deeply sad.  I don't really believe in Karma.  I don't believe in "what goes around comes around".  I don't believe in a scale balancing "reap what you sow" God who is bent on us getting our due on way or another.  But...

But I don't want my angel to pay for the terrible things I did when I was his age.  The irony of a guy like me raising a child with special needs is something that I recognize.  I detail that here: Let Me Be The Moron

My sweet Noah has kicked the face in of every nasty challenge he has faced.  His prognosis years ago was very dire and with the help of some amazing people, some amazing techniques, some amazing coincidences, and his amazing spirit we are witnessing a miracle.  His story is a miracle in my life.  Mr. Noah has jumped over more hurdles in his nine years than I have done in my thirty-six.   His autism does not define him...but in a lot of ways it defines me. 

For all his incredible successes he is now staring face to face with what I find to be his scariest struggle...the social.

In the next few years the social games will start to get more and more intense.  He is always going to be a little quirky, and unique (which is wonderful in a lot of ways....I wish I was more unique and not just a cliché') which is going to make him a large target for some kid who is like I was.  My greatest fear was always that he would be the never ending victim of some "me-like" shitbag who is scared for their own skin.

Lately though, I have to admit that I am starting to understand that there is something far worse than being the one who is picked on. 

Being forgotten all together is much much worse....

It does not escape my wife and I that he is not invited to birthday parties, or to sleepovers.  While, we know that he is well-liked by his classmates I have a pretty good grasp of the fact that they keep him at arms length because he is a little different.  As the years progress and the social demands increase I wonder where he will end up.  I know that the social games will be as confusing to him as algebra was to me.  It will seem alien to him....and he is going to have to plod his way into that great beyond.  Of all the things that Autism is guilty of I think for me the worst thing it does is makes it very difficult for a person in the spectrum to connect with their fellow human. 

When I speak to large groups of young people I ask them to be better than I was.  I ask to realize the impact that their words have on others.  I beg them to get over the social games and to instead open up their hearts to everyone.  I do this in hopes that I can pay off the debt I have made on my soul. 

I am desperate for my son's Playground experience to be different than mine was....so until I can be assured that it won't be I will, as Master of The Universe be melting every single one!

Goodbye germy slide hand-rails.

Adios groin damaging Teeter-totters!

Beat it swings of sure death!

Don't let the door hit your booty bubble on the way out Monkey Bars!


Hell...who am I kidding.  Of course getting rid of playgrounds is not going to stop the chance that my son and other children like him will be fed to the social alligators.  This is all about needing to be in control.  I have to let go.  To let him be hurt.  To let him face dimwits like I was.  Just because I was a yellow-belly back then does not mean he is.  He is the definition of courage.  He is joy incarnate.  He is a force to be reckoned with.  I need to let go of my overly protective shadow that I cast over him.  Noah, like my other children will be the best version of me that the Earth will ever see.

How other people treat my children is beyond my control.  I cannot control how other's will perceive and react to any of my little guys.  The only thing I can control is what I teach them and how I hug them before releasing them into the wild.  Perhaps that is why I applied for the job of Boss of The Universe.  I want to control things too much....it is time for me to give that up.  I don't want the job anymore.  Maybe Jimmy John's is hiring?

I could make a heck of a hoagie...hells yeah I could.

        

I turned in an application to become CEO of The Universe.  I have not heard back from them yet.  While I am not getting my hopes too high, I feel like I am a good candidate for at least getting an interview.  The interview is where I shine like a crazy diamond.  I can make up for all of my resume weaknesses when I get in the same room with whomever is grilling me.  Not that I look much better in person than I do on paper...it's just that I can at least show off my underrated ability to end everyone of my answers with gems like:

"I probably should not have told you about that..."

"At the end of the day they could not really prove anything in court"

"I usually don't sweat this much"

"The good news is that the voices have not judged you as 'burnable'.  Yet...."

"And that is why I don't believe we ever actually landed on the moon"

"It was not until that day did I know what the term 'trans gendered" meant!"

"I hope you are not recording this..."

"I believe that you and I are like soul mates or something"

"No...I usually don't swear during interviews.  I just really really don't like wearing socks"

"Define felony for me?"

"So, while I may lack experience but what I do have is the ability to grow a uni-brow"

"Shut up for a sec.  Is this place haunted?  I feel a presence.  Did you recently or not so recently lose someone close to you who has the letter 'E' somewhere in their name?

"Can we start over?"


Since I have not heard back from The Universe about my application to manage it I am being forced to perhaps look elsewhere.  In the meantime I am left to wonder what amazing things I would do if I actually became the boss of everything.  I would not make any radical changes really.  It is not like I would create a new kind of animal or anything.  I think most of my time would be spent keeping Regis Philbin alive and making sure that whomever was responsible for helping form the band "Chumawumba" was punished by having to actually listen to them.

As chief of all stuff I would spend my days actually getting rid of things.  Here is a quick list of just a few things I would get rid of:




* Balloons.

 
No!  Not those kind of Balloons...although these kind would probably be a good idea to do away with.  The Colorado Prison system can only handle so many nutjobs.  I am talking about your typical balloon that every child longs to have at their birthday party!

Balloons are nothing more than "Instant Child Heartbreak on a String".  A relationship with a stupid balloon never ever never ends well.  It is like buying a puppy for a kid that you know is going to be dead within a day.    Usually the inflated creep breaks free into the lower atmosphere on the way to the car leaving your sobbing child reaching out to it's new best friend that melts into the horizon.  If by some rare chance the floating demon makes it home you can rest assured that it either:  A) Get lodged somewhere on your ceiling that nobody can get to without the use of the ladder that is buried in your garage.  Cause a full on riot between your other children who want to "adopt" the new balloon from their sibling.  C) It will scare the beejeebies out of you in the middle of the night when you see  the hovering shadow it out of the corner of your eye and mistake it for a home invasion thus causing you to let out such a high pitched scream that your wife will cease to believe that your were actually born a man.


*Legos.  If you have ever stepped barefoot onto a Lego in the middle of the night while fleeing a menacing balloon shadow knows the kind of pain that involves.  I have it on good authority that the people who produce Lego's to the public intentionally make them their size so that they can embed themselves into the soft part of the foot with ease.  For me, they might as well just box up some barbed wire and send that out to the kids to play with. 


My foot just started bleeding when I looked at this picture.  Lego-foot pain has been known to cause Jedi's to cry.



*Any bug that stings, bites, or crawls into my nose in order to lay a colony of eggs somewhere in my sinus.  Yes, I know that removing one of these lower species from our eco-system might end up screwing everything up.  However, as CEO of All I would look to replace these bottom feeders with other kinds of lower life forms....like the guy who started TMZ.
                                                                                         
One of these is a creepy crawly bug who slithers in the dirt and the other is Harvey Levin, founder of TMZ.  Can you tell which is which?


* The Phrase "Hells Yeah". Just typing it makes me angry.  Hold on while I kick my dog.  I hate that phrase more than Lady Gaga must hate Old Navy.  I heard a 40-something year old dude in a suit say "Hells Yeah" to the barista today in response to her asking if he wanted room for cream in his coffee.  I immediately felt the urge to pour boiling water into my ears.  I would rather hear the sound of my eardrums being poached than to hear HY.  If I ever catch you saying "Hells Yeah" in front of me than you will become my enemy.  In my mind you and I will fight, and I will win with a series of not-so-manly-yet-surprisingly-brutal-sissy-slaps.  I don't care if you are my elderly mother, a charismatic blind banjo player named "Sweet Fingers Earl", or a girl scout who is offering me a tub of free Thin Mints!  If you say it than will bring down the famous "Holy Wrath Of Roedel" down upon you.  It will be such a display of passive aggressive behavior that you will need to check to make sure you weren't guest staring on The Real Housewives of Atlanta.  If I become the Universe Manager you need to know that I will condemn you to an eternity of walking through Cheyenne's K-Mart if I catch you saying it.  Hells Yeah I will.


Oh...shut up Pink Whale!



*Grape Nuts.  What the hell is a Grape Nut??  Why would I want to eat something called a Grape Nut??  To be honest I ate a handful of these little critters a few years back and I did not taste grape anywhere.  You cannot call something "grape" if it does not contain any grape flavoring...right?  I would change the name of them to "Tasteless Crunchy Nuts That Are Somehow Lacking Of Anything Substantive".  Which by way used to be my nickname in High School....




Um....shouldn't you be turning the milk purple or something?  "There is as much Grape to you as Gravey."  -Scrooge.  (I think)



*John Edwards. ...You Farging Bastage!  I don't really want to pile on this dude...but...really?  Really??  You did that...really???  Mr. Edwards you realize that you are not a lead character on an MTV reality show, right?  Do Johnny a skin and stay away from the media for a while.  I can't hear about it anymore.  Don't go on Oprah.  Don't explain your side of the story on Larry King.  Don't sell a book.  Just be a human being for a while.  You always spoke about "Two America's" when you were running for Prezzie,  which I kind of found interesting.  I realize now that you were talking about the difference between the one America that is typical and the other one where it is ok to cheat on your cancer stricken wife, get your mistress preggers, and then get a staffer to claim paternity of your new child.  I am not one to judge but wow...you sir, are a serious creep-o.  The only redeemable characteristic for you right now is your shiny bullet-proof hair that is seemingly a creation of Disney Engineering.  Aside from that you are the kind of guy who needs to be kicked right in your Grape Nuts. 



"Hellllloooo.  I am John Edward's amazing hair.  I don't care if you love me or if you fear me...but YOU WILL RESPECT ME!"






*Playgrounds.  Which I think is the one thing as Master of The Universe (minus the metal thong and power of Greyskull) I would want to get rid of. 



My heart has been stuck on playgrounds lately.  As the daddy of a child living with Autism I am haunted by playgrounds....but perhaps I will save my thoughts on that for part 2 tomorrow....

Until then I better go and check my voicemail to see if I got asked to come in for my interview yet....

        

Shit.

Yep, thats right I said it.  I'll say it again for dramatic effect.

Shit.

I could have used a lot of substitute words instead of the dreaded "S" word...but I didn't.  Here are some of those substitute words for that particular word:

Poopy
Caca
Manure
Smell Bomb
Crap
Fertilizer
Senior Feces
S***
Mt. WhatthehelldidIeat?
Kiester Torpedo
Lt. Funky Stankbottoms
Yuck Pie of Doom

Since there are so many other ways to write shit without having to actually use it, why would I chuck verbal gem against the wall of my blog? 

What possible motivation would I have for using this cuss word that I learned from my middle aged, bee-hived babysitter when I was only seven? 

UNRELATED TANGENT ALERT!!!!  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

She exclaimed it out loud when some over-excited housewife made a horrible bid during the showcase showdown on "The Price Is Right".  Perhaps she was memorized by the 1982 version of Bob Barker....I know my  warden sitter was.  The only thing I ever noticed was how his microphone looked like a toy.  I once asked my bitterly angry sensitive babysitter about that fact...she responded with something that smacked of "Don't you ever talk about Bob like that you little *Kiester Torpedo*!!!  He has more talent in his nostril than you have in your stupid little body!"  While she was right, I don't think that I was ready to hear that cold truth while I was eating my Captain Crunch.  I made a mental note to never bring up Bob's $ 4.00 microphone again...doing so seemed to cause a *Crap* storm.  I think if I would have ever used BB's name in vain again my crazed   unique babysitter would have had me spade or nuetered.  (I still don't know which one is for dudes and which one is for the ladies) Maybe it is because of her that I never drank "The Barker Kool-Aide".   How could a man that seemed to have the sexual charm of a nostril hair get more action than The Fonz?  I could never reconcile that fact.  For many he was the *Smell Bomb*.  To me he was a chump that was promoting emotional infidelity among 40 year old women. 

TANGENT OVER.  WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

I have a very good reason for breaking my rule not to cuss in my blog....

A couple weeks ago I started to take some pretty serious online writing classes from a University that offers intensive teaching online.  I went into the experience with an expectation that I would be honored above all others.  I went into it think my *Senior Feces* did not stink.  Well, it turns out that my *poop* does in fact stink.  It stinks bad.  It stinks like monkey dander soup.  After submitting a few new writing samples to my instructor (who has published a number of short fiction and non-fiction books) we had a conversation that went like this.

Her: Hey John, you have a sec to talk about your writing?

John: You bet. 
(Yes....tell me how incredible I am.  I will even be willing to offer you some advice.  The student has already become the teacher.

Her:  Ok.  You want the good news first?

Awesome John: Sure...
(It should be noted that at this point I am slightly annoyed because whenever someone asks "You want the good news first?" is simply code for "I want to butter your throat up before I rip it open with my *criticism claws)  (* Note: Criticism Claws has been trademarked by me.  Don't use it.  Ever.  It is mine.  If you use it I will hire a goon to find you and scare the *Lt. Funky Stankbottoms* out of you.)

Her: You are kind of funny.

John: Ok...
(Kind of???  Kind of???  That is like saying that Burger King kind of tastes like *Manure*

Her: And there is some raw writing talent in what you have submitted.  I mean really raw.

John: Ok....
(hmmmm..Maybe she has me confused with someone else...).

Her: Really raw.  Really, really raw...John Roedel of Wyoming...really raw...)

John: I got it....
(There is an off chance that she is using the word "raw" instead of the word "transcending" by mistake..)
 
Her: I am talking RAW.  Like seriously raw.  Like-

John: Point taken!
(yaaaaaaaaaarrrr!!!)

Her:  So thats the good news.

John: Ok...
(Thats the good news???  Holy *Smell Bomb* that means that the bad news is going to really really hurt....and it did)

Her:  The bad news is aside from your lack of basic understanding of grammar and punctuation...

John:Right
(what the heck is grammar and punctuation?  I don't, understandy the words; coming out of you're: mouth!)

Her:  Your writing is too safe.

John: Safe?
(safe?  I am not safe!  I am a fat ball of danger!  I am a wild boar that is running through the jungle.  safe??  That is crazy!)

Her: Yep.  So safe in fact that it comes across kind of false.

John: Yikes.
(*Fertilizer!!!!*)

*Fertilizer* is right!  She was correct.  I am way too safe.  Not just in my writing, but in everything I do.  I try desperately not to offend anyone or cause discord.  I take hardly any risks so that I don't have to take the crowbar of failure to the face.  I mean for the love of Pat Robertsons blackened, cold, and Vulcan heart I am living my life (both on the page and in person) like I am planning on running for office.  By the way I will never ever run for office.  I am going to run FROM office.  The only elected seat I could ever imagine running for would be County Coroner.

TANGENT ALERT!!!!!  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Why the world do we vote for County Coroner?  I mean really.  Why?? That should be a career that you are appointed to.  People like me (by me I mean:  Uncoordinated, hairy, and annoying dudes that don't know what the difference between "spayed" and "Neutered" is.) should not be part of the decision making process for who gets to play Quincy all day.  That kind of decision should be made by people who have their *Yuck Pies of Doom* together.  I have no idea what makes someone a better candidate for county coroner that someone else!  Maybe one of the people looks better in a white lab coat?  Do they wear white lab coats?  I don't even know!!  So why the *Caca* am I being put in that position???  Why not have me vote for who should be the chief brain surgeon, or for county Vasectomy Specialist??  Why not ask me to punch the chad for who our next Jail Warden will be.  I think in order for me to be even semi-ok with voting for the next County Coroner I need to watch them compete against each other in some sort of event.  Maybe like in an American Idol like format or something.  Where maybe one week they have to each do an autopsy on live TV while singing some song from the 60's.  See...I should have no business making these kind of decisions.

TANGENT IS OVER.  WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

It should also be said that I can never run for office because photo's like this exist:





The thing that bothers me the most is that I made it a resolution a few years ago to take more risks.  To stop being safe, shy, and silent all the time.  That resolution held about as well as my resolution I made this year to stop making jokes at *inappropriate times about the paternity of my children. (sorry wifey)

* It turns out there is never really an appropriate time to make jokes in social situations about whether or not you are the real father of your children.  Especially not in the following places:

- Your In-Laws House during Thanksgiving Dinner.
- The delivery room during the birth of your first son.
- During the baptism reception right after the priest gave a blessing.
- In front of your mother. Ever.
- In the middle of a tense parent teacher conference that you felt needed a little humor
- The Delivery room during the birth of your second son.
- To an Applebee's waitress that is having a very very *poopy*  day.
- On a blog that is open for the world to read.
- The delivery room during the birth of your third son.

So I am going to make it a point to take more risks when it comes to living and writing.  I am not going to go crazy with that.  There is going to be a fine line between playing it safe and showing up in the blotters for trying to steal a police horse. 

If you are like me that somedays you feel as if you are letting life pass you by because you sometimes play it too safe then I encourage you to join me in living on the edge a bit more.  

Lets come together and make the word "Safe" the newest four-letter word.

Unless of course you think that I am just full of *Mt. WhatthehelldidIeat?*

        

My character has understandably come into question.  I made a pledge and I have broken it.  I broke it good....

Last July I made a promise that I would get a tattoo by October 15th.  I made that announcement boldly without a doubt that I would fulfill the task.  I decided to get the tat for several reasons...that have absolutely nothing to do with me having a mid-life crisis...

Well, October came and went and much to nobody's surprise I did not get the ink.  This of course was predicted by all my friends who did not believe me when I proclaimed my desire to get it done.  Apparently they know more about me than I do, which kind of makes me sad.  While my tattoo dream is not over I am starting to lose hope that I have what it takes to do the deed.

Whats holding me back?

About a week before my deadline I started to get cold feet.  I began to visualize what it was going to be like to face the chair and the needle...and I balked.  My imagination got a hold of what the event was going to be like...and it kind of looked like this:


I walk into a musky little parlor that smells vaguely of turpentine and kitty vomit.  The room only lit by a single low hanging lamp that hangs right above a torn leather chair that looks like something from Sweeney Todd.  The aura around this chair is so menacing that I remark to myself that the only thing it is missing is some leather arms straps and a metal helmet that sends fatal electricity into the poor schlob that sits down in it.  

In my mind the tattoo chair that would await me was reminiscent of Ole' Spark from "The Green Mile".



I have only had a moment to catch my breath when I feel the icy touch of death on my shoulder.  I look down and I see a hand that is marked in both a matted coat of knuckle hair and an image of a skull that was branded into the skin.   At this point I have set my bowel control level to "optional".  With my face going from flush to pale in .7 seconds I turn around and meet the man behind the hand.  

It is the owner of this place...and the man who will be in charge of "inking" me.  The dude is taller than Hagrid and dressed in more leather than Cat Girl.  My eyes bounce between the web tattoo on his neck and the toothpick that he swishing around his mouth.   He has a thick mound of jet black hair that is slicked back in such a way that it would even cause the Fonz to let out a "Whoa!" if he encountered it.  I don't make eye contact with him because his eyes are a combination of oil and "I eat children". 

This is the first time that I begin to think that getting a tattoo is a bad idea.  With his hand on my shoulder still I decide to break the tension building between us...

ME:  Hello sir.

AXE: (in a vthat must have just got done gargling graveloice )  Call me Axe.

ME: Axe?

AXE:  So you want a tat?

ME: I think so.  It doesn't hurt much does it?

AXE:  Well it doesn't hurt as much as getting your knee busted in by your ex-wife's new junkie boyfriend if that is what you mean.

ME: Okay...thats....good.  I just have a fear of needles.

AXE:  And I have a fear of not being able to control my murderous rage when I am face to face with flowery whiners who smell like woman's hairspray.

ME: I happen to like the smell of Aqua-net!  What do you use to keep your hair so slick and shiny?

AXE:  Sissy blood.

ME: Oh....

AXE:  So what kind of bad-ass tattoo does a half-ling like you want to get?

ME: I am not sure.  Do you have a catalog?

AXE: If you want a catalog go to Gymboree!

ME: What?   Well...do you have any examples of your work?

AXE: If you want an example of the work I am capable of I suggest you dig up my old roommate Jimmy.  If you do tell him I said "Face!".

ME: Ok....uh...

AXE:  Do you want me to tell you what tattoo I think you should get?

ME: Yeah!  That sounds like a good way to get the creative juices flowing!  For away my good man!  My body is your canvas!

AXE:  Stop talking.  Your voice makes me want to stab you in the ear hole.

ME: Right.  Sorry...so what do you suggest for me?

AXE:  ****Omitted for profanity.  Rest assured it was extremely graphic and the image he suggested was a combination of his apparent hatred of Canadians and a pagan mating ritual between otters****

ME: Holy crap...

AXE: Intense huh?

ME: Is that even legal to have something like that on my body?

AXE: Not in the eyes of man or God, but it is legal in the eyes of THE AXE!

ME:  I was thinking I just wanted a mysterious saying or phrase that would be a good conversation starter.

AXE: Hmmm.  How about "Death by murder" or "Cops Suck".

ME: No....not that....maybe I don't want a statement.  How about a Chinese symbol?

AXE: I only do American Tattoo's!  I call them Freedom Ink!

ME: Sure...ok...lets see...

AXE: I got a good idea for your tat!

ME: Really? Alright, cool...what are you thinking?

AXE: I am thinking you better choose something right now before my vicodin wears off.  Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to see me without vicodin in my system.  The voices will come back and I am sure none of them will like you.

ME: Ok...I am still thinking...

AXE: Choose Meat-bag!  Hurry!

ME: Just a sec...

AXE: Now! Pick something!  Do it!

ME: Uh...

AXE:  Choose your ink or die Bilbo Baggins!

ME: I don't know!!! 

AXE:  Don't make me hurt you!!! Choose!!

ME: Ahhhhhhh...

AXE: How about a picture of a football?

ME: A football....?

AXE: Yeah a nice football.

ME Yeah....a nice football...

AXE: Good.  Now when I scream "Go time!" I want you to bite down on this leather strap.  Hard.

ME: Should you be drinking whiskey while taking pain pills AND holding a hot needle gun.

AXE:  This is not just a needle gun!  He is my little brother and I call him "Mr. Scream". 

ME: Oh...no...wait I think that maybe I need to think more ab-

AXE: GO TIME!!!!!



The last thing I remember is AXE placing his tree trunk sized knee on my chest to keep me from squirming.  He starts to place the needle on my forearm and I let out an unnaturally loud girlish squeal.  As I pass out I tale not of the fact that his breath smells like Taco Bell.....




And this is the reason why I have not gotten any ink yet.  As soon as I am convinced my experience will not be anything like this I will get one. 

        

"The Earth stopped shaking over a day ago but my shaking will never stop"  - A Haitian Woman who lost her entire family who was being interviewed on The BBC.







It is hard to say anything that does not sound cliché' on the day after the ground swallowed up at least 100,000 impoverished Haitians.  What can we say that is of any use?  I don't know...as much as I love words and filling up any empty silence with my blather I am finding it impossible to have anything to say....

Maybe this entry is meant more for me than anyone else.  Perhaps this is going to be therapeutic for me....but somehow I doubt it.

Years ago I remember sitting on my coach eating popcorn watching Katrina remind me how fragile our lives are.  I remember very clearly watching people being rescued from their vanishing rooftops like it was some big budget movie.  As I stuffed my chowder-gob with Orville's finest I remember having the gall to think "I wonder if anything else is on TV".  I am not sure if my desire to change channels was because I could no longer handle the graphic imagery, or if it was I wanted to watch some baseball or something.  I really hope my reason was the former of the two...

I am trying my best to not treat this event like some sort of make-em-up.  But I still find myself sitting on the same stupid coach (neglecting some very large written homework assignment) watching Anderson Cooper host a game called "Let's see how much worse it can get for the poorest people on the planet".  In a moment of heart wrenching Deja Vu I grabbed the remote when I saw a photo flash across the screen that was particularly haunting.  The delicious Lime Sherbet in my tummy could not handle this movie any more....

This time I gutted through my own need to feel safe and listened to stories told by the Haitians who survived the hell of January 12th.  I heard them bravely weep through their accounts of having to choose which of their children they would try and save....I watched them wander through the pitch black streets aimlessly....I saw them gather to pray by the thousands because as one very old man put it "Haiti is dying".

Now I know that some people will think that dwelling on things like this do no good.  People die every day.  Earthquakes and other natural disasters happen all over the world.  That instead of sitting on a blog and whining about how I feel I should put my mission where my mouth is and get on a plane to the devastated island.  I can't.  I am a coward.  The only thing I can do is try and find some words that can make any kind of sense of this....

Again...I can't.

The only thing I can say is that I don't think this is fair.  How can a people who already have so little be forced to deal with a situation like this?  I don't think it's fair that the people of Haiti are being asked to go from having nothing to having absolutely nothing.  I don't think it is fair that my biggest worry yesterday was that I was worried about the new bumping sound in my van's engine while those people had to worry about their shack turning into their coffin.  I don't think it is fair that next week when some celebrity sleeps with someone, or if Peyton Manning throws four TD's, or if Joe Biden and Dick Cheney exchange barbs on "Meet The Press" our attention will shift.  We will no longer want to hear about it anymore.  I know that I won't.  I will have felt morally cleansed by my 10 dollar charity text.  I will no longer want to hear about a generation of Haitians that are dead. Once this moves off of the front page of the news I will move on.  

 That sucks for me.  Because there is probably a rich lesson in what is happening that I am missing out on because it is too hard to watch.  There has to be...right?  There has to be something that can be gained by all of this....right?  There is no way something like this happens without some greater good hidden inside it...right?

I don't know.

That is why words are not easy tonight.  

If there was anytime in my life that I was able to pray and be completely selfless then I hope it is tonight.....



Lord hear my prayer......