One, one vacant foreclosure…ah ah ah

I started my job training for the U.S. Census today. Highlights included:

1. Government-issue pens: “Be careful of the pens, I think they were low-bid.” The ink cartridge is apparently shorter than the barrel. I think they might pop out randomly, but it didn’t happen yet. Nice.
2. Paperwork Reduction Act: The single paragraph on this had its own page in the middle of the I-9 form. The back of the page was blank.
3. The Oath of Office: Yeah, that oath of office. Apparently it’s the only one. So now I’m sworn to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. I’m not even kidding.

They still haven’t told us when I get our guns…

So I Broke My Kid’s Neck Today…

I’m a lock for the Bad Daddy awards this year, and I didn’t even do it. Nice.

Leaving for school this morning (my son goes summer camp/school all summer, loves it) and the boy got stung by something. But wait, it gets better…

As we’re literally walking out the door, he turns around to catch a kiss from his mama, I put my hand on the top of his head, tilt his head back and plant a kiss on his forehead.  About half a second later, the mystery insect stings him.

At this point, all I know is that he just went from zero to screaming and crying instantly. Then he points the Finger of Accusation at me and informs my wife, “HE twisted my neck!” Luckily, Mama was able to calm him down, because I’m the villain at this point. Doesn’t even want to look at me.

So after a while–a long while–we were able to convince him that it was not me that stung him behind the ear.

I think.  I’m still picturing the conversation where he proclaims to his class that Daddy twisted his head around and snapped his neck this morning.

The poor little guy was OK by the time I got him to school, but I let his teacher know what was up just in case.

Twittapocrypha

I was thinking about urban legends, and of course about Snopes. For those who don’t know, when you forward some ridiculous paranoid email warning and one of your friends immediately emails back that it’s a hoax, snopes.com is where they found that out.

So what I was thinking is, with the speed that things travel in the age of Twitter, is it possible to start a rumor/urban legend about Snopes itself? The people who normally perpetuate these things obviously don’t know about Snopes, but would they go and check it out if there was a rumor about it, and thus find out it wasn’t true? Who knows?

So here it comes. It’s 12:25 PM Eastern time, July 4th, 2009 and I’m about to twitter (tweet, whatever) the following:

Is Snopes.com run by Scientologists? #snopes #scientology

I should point out that this is IN NO WAY TRUE as far as I know. I’m not aware of any connection between the good people of snopes.com and the Church of Scientology. Of course, maybe that’s just because they’re covering their tracks…

Let’s see what happens, shall we?

The Aspirational 5 Bs (OK, the 8 Bs)

“Be like B.”

“Be like B.”

“Be like B.”

I remind myself of this little mantra (although not as often as I should) when I need a little mental push in the right direction.  It just happened that they were all “B” names, no special requirement there.  Each one of the Bs has some quality I try (and usually fail miserably) to emulate.  It goes like this:

Benjamin Franklin: Ben Franklin tended to be a wiseass, which always earns points with me, but the trait I admire in him is his drive and resourcefulness.  Here’s a guy who recognized that Philadelphia needed a postal service…so he started one with himself as postmaster.  You get the feeling if Thomas Jefferson had said, “Ben, we need to go to the moon,” Franklin would have just invented a rocket.

Inventor, statesman, liked a good fart joke.

Batman: Hey, I didn’t say they were all historical figures.  Batman, aside from being a complete badass, has this relentless determination.  He always does what has to be done.  Period.  Sometimes it’s puzzle-solving, sometimes it’s ass-kicking, but he does it either way.  Plus, he’s a superhero with no superpowers.  “But Bruce, you don’t have any powers,” says everybody.  “I have exceptional training and a buttload of money,” says Bruce Wayne.  “Close enough.”

Does this utility belt make me look fat?

The Beatles: See, it’s really the 8 Bs if you count them all up, but I lump these guys together as a single cohesive fighting unit.  They were working on branding before it was a thing!  Except the kind with cows, but you know what I mean.  These guys were strategic.  They systematically analyzed what kind of songs got on the radio and figured out a formula (i.e. songs with “You” in the title are good because it makes girls feel like the song is about them).    They created these songs, got huge and then made the music they wanted to make.  “I Want to Hold Your Hand” was a means to an end.  Then when they could do whatever they wanted, they challenged each other to keep getting better.   When they could have started phoning it in, they innovated, experimented and changed popular music as we know it.  There’s a soul in their music, but if you don’t get that I can’t explain it to you.  Some people will open the Bible looking for an answer.  I think, WWTBD?

Although musical geniuses, they could never master the look-away high-five.

Buddha: Just let it roll off you. That’s what I keep telling myself.  Only get angry about the things that are important enough to get angry about.  ‘Nuff said.

It's right behind me, isn't it?

Queen B: Some could argue this one is a ringer.  This is my Queen B, as in I’m married to her, which means she generally wins all contests by default.  That said, apart from her questionable judgment in mating habits, she is the greatest person I know.  Seriously, I’d put her up against the Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, whoever ya got.  Her qualities are too many to list here.  You’ll have to wait until she finally gets around to writing down the crazy story that is her life, and figure them out yourself.

Whaddaya mean I only have wings on one side?

So those are them.  I do what I can, remind myself to be like B, and occasionally get it right.

Why?

Introduction
(apologies to the late great Shel Silverstein)

.

If you’re a corrector, come in,

If you’re a corrector, a dumbass-protector,

A knowledge collector, a truth interjector,

Come in and reflect, bring your bullshit-detector,

For we have some questions that need answerin’.
.

Here on the interwebs, there are many, many places for a person to get his/her/its questions answered. There are places to ask and places to look stuff up. Without Google and Wikipedia I think my brain would explode.

The thing is, if these resources are out there, then there are people doing the answering. Who are these people who spend their time answering other people’s questions? I mean apart from professional question-answerers of some kind. Who are these fountains of knowledge? I’m married to one of them, so I know there are people in the world who can’t help helping. They have to answer the question or correct the inaccuracy, however trivial. People with an ingrained need to inform, whether the informee likes it or not.

For the benefit of these people, these compulsive question-answerers, these Googling good samaritans, I present…myself.

I’m a freakin’ mess, people. A real fixer-upper. You have great material to work with here.

So in order to provide a haven for you know-it-all types and give your friends and family a break, I propose the following:

The first internet resource created to be an outlet for the overly knowledgeable and the obsessively helpful, for the purpose of the betterment of me. In the coming days, or weeks, or whenever, I’ll lay it out there, one shovelful at a time, and you can put the rubber gloves on and sift through it. You know you need to.

Why me, you ask? It’s not about me, ladies and gentlemen, it’s about you. I’m doing this for you, throwing myself on the grenade as it were, to help you help me. That’s the kind of guy I am. You’re welcome.

Also, there will be randomness. Unrelated topics, as they pop into my head.  Don’t read too much into it.