Saturday, June 23, 2007

97.76

Love this new time waster sent in by Bobby Earl - who dared me to best his lowly score of 79. You'll note by the title of this post I had little trouble improving upon that total. Okay - that's a lie. It took me about an hour. A fun, frustrating hour.

You basically have to throw a paper airplane across an office and see how far you can get it to go. There's a window at the end of the office, and that's where you get the real points. Took me about 30 tries before I finally got the damn thing to make it to the window. Give it a whirl...but be warned: this one is addicting!

And good luck beating that 97.76.

LIGHTENING UP

As society continues to move toward a more politically correct version of its former self, I feel we are beginning to lose a small, but important, part of our collective soul.

Take this chart on the chemical composition and properties of the female of our species. A tad sexist? Sure. Hilarious? You betcha.

We have to be able to laugh at ourselves and our differences or we're going to turn into a bunch of frightened, opinionless North Koreans - praising our "Great Leader" and singing songs about his majesty's supreme benevolence.

By its very nature, free speech is going to create offense because it promotes variety in point-of-view. But it also promotes discussion, understanding, empathy, and compromise. I personally don't like to see us becoming so sensitive about everything - like we can't take a joke. And there's mounting evidence of this trend every day. If you don't like what someone says, don't give them an audience. Or, better, let them know why you don't like what they say in a thoughtful and considerate way. But don't ask the government to step in and censor their right to free speech. That's not in liberty's best interest.

Sometimes I feel like America is turning into that friend you used to love being around...until they quit drinking - and now all they do is complain all the time and want to leave the party early. Let's quit taking ourselves so seriously and loosen up a little bit.

Our blood pressure could use a break.

A SENIOR MOMENT IN BAGHDAD

I was reading the news this morning and saw that a joint operation in Iraq netted the capture of some senior al-qaida operatives.

I think that's GOOD news when they use the "senior," right?

Or are we being hoodwinked by the MSM (mainstream media, for the acronymically challenged)? Why do I get the feeling we're going to find out someday that "senior" is just the politically correct way of saying "over the age of 60." Operation Terrorist Nursing Home is a success, the latest sweep of Baghdad nets a dozen really feisty ex-insurgents complaining of arthritis and spicy food.

No - I'm sure "senior" means something to somebody over there. Perhaps it's the distinction between an insurgent with 2-3 years of resistance fighting experience versus your more seasoned extremist who has a decade or more under his belt. You never hear about the capture of "junior" operatives. Not newsworthy for some reason.

BREAKING NEWS! U.S. Forces Storm Insurgent Stronghold and Capture Seven Junior Operatives

I'm also thinking it's because many in government don't want to admit that there are any "junior" operatives. Because if there ARE "junior" level al-qaida operatives, that would support the argument that U.S. foreign policy may be in part responsible for the proliferation of an extremist population. And that would undermine the entire argument that the war in Iraq is making us safer (somehow) - a claim fewer and fewer Americans actually believe, yet one that a number of "senior" politicians insist on making.

The blowback from our invasion and occupation of Iraq is going to have tragic consequences at home and abroad. Why did we invade again? Oh yeah - the weapons of mass destruction. I keep forgetting. Good thing we verified they didn't have any of those. I feel MUCH safer now.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

THE FUTURE IS COMING!

How's THAT for profound? I'm cool like that. Actually, the direction I wanted to point you in is right over here where you'll get a sneak peek at what the computers of tomorrow are going to look like.

Bad ass, bro. Thanks to Bobby Earl for sharing.

Monday, June 18, 2007

ENJOYING A GOOD CRY WITH THE FRAY

Whoever said grown men don't cry never took a 3 wood in the crotch.

I think I'm getting softer in my old age. And I was pretty soft to begin with.

Last week I was at the Charter One Pavilion on Northerly Island, Chicago's gorgeous open-air lakefront concert venue, to see the band The Fray perform the first of three sold-out shows. It was an all-ages show, which meant we were surrounded by "kids" - many of whom looked too young to be drinking beer (but were probably in their mid-20's). The Fray put on a fantastic show - but there was a moment about half-way through the set where I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I wasn't sure why exactly, but I felt tears welling up in my eyes. My instinct was to fight the urge to weep openly at a music concert, but truth be told, I was kind of enjoying the experience.

As the band broke into their smash hit "How to Save a Life," a massive light-board behind the drum kit began running short clips of old home movies featuring the band members as little kids. A cool wind off the lake sent chills up both arms as a chorus of pre-teen girls began singing in unison with the song's first few somber bars of piano. By the time the tempo changed with the chorus break, I was overcome with such sadness that I could not fight the tears back. I felt the sinuses blooming with snot and sniffed back some of the runny byproduct as a stream of sorrow meandered for my collar.

Enjoying the novelty of the situation, I let the experience completely consume me. It was quite possibly the single best song I have ever heard at any concert - including the kick ass acoustic version of Down Under I heard Colin Hay perform a month ago.

When the song ended, I noticed I wasn't the only one who'd been touched with sorrow. I promptly wiped my eyes and retreated to the nearest concession stand to recover with a fat, 24-ounce plastic cup of luke-warm domestic beer. And that snapped me out of it pretty quick because, as everybody knows, you just don't cry in your beer.

Great show, though - and one I would not hesitate to recommend if you are familiar with their work. Or if you just like a good cry every now and again.

I SEE YOU!