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Art by Jeff Durham...Go visit his site already!

I am confused (no, that is not my superpower). When I was a kid I was led to believe that… A) You can be whatever want when you grow up and…B) There were a lot of super heroes out there.

There are two types of super heroes…

Those that are born with superheroness (is that even word?) and those people that get superpowers later in life (usually due to some family tragedy or falling into a vat of nuclear waste).

Not opting for falling into a vat of nuclear waste (not sure where I would find one anyway), I think I am of the group that is suppose to “grow” into some sort of awe inspiring power. Helllooooo?! Is this thing on? I even have the spandex suit ready to go (don’t ask).

Well, nothing yet and I am wondering how long I am suppose to wait?

I am not complaining, but I’m not getting any younger. I need to be young enough to stay up late fighting crime, possess dashing looks to appear in photo shoots with the mayor, and the wit to come up with snappy lines for catching bad guys.

I suppose I could be some sort of hip “old” superhero – maybe protecting the front door at Wal-Mart while simultaneously working as a greeter. (I have seen those people – pretty sure that no one would ever suspect them of being superheroes).

Mmmmm, maybe I was meant to be a villain…

IF you had a superpower…what would it be?

.

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For starters, I was supposed to be enjoying a lucrative private detective career on Oahu Island; driving around a Ferrari and living life with my friend who flies helicopters for a living.

Clearly that one did not pan out somehow.

My second career was as a Hollywood stunt man by day and bounty hunter by night.

Never happened.

Matter of fact, I never owned a black Pontiac Trans Am that spoke to me, never captured bad guys on the streets of NY, never solved medical dilemmas in under an hour, and I never battled siblings over the direction and control of my family empire.

Man, have I got some catching up to do. Anybody else missing something?

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Not sure where this came from, but it cracks me up for some, sad, reason…

Fifty Years of Math 1959 – 2009 (in the USA )

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her.. She stood there , holding the nickel and 3 pennies , while looking at the screen on her register.

I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters , but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her , she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:

1. Teaching Math In 1950s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit ?

2. Teaching Math In 1960s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price , o r $80. What is his profit?

3. Teaching Math In 1970s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

4. Teaching Math In 1980s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

5. Teaching Math In 1990s

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers , and if you feel like crying, it’s ok. )

6. Teaching Math In 2009

Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?

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I suspect a trip to Victoria’s Secret is much different for men then it is for women. I am not sure what women are looking for but I do know what men are looking for: Less is More.

Years ago, my first trip to buy something for my wife lead to a very displeased shop attendant. In my defense, I don’t think it was my fault.

Not exactly knowing my wife’s size (I have since been coached on that part) I wasn’t sure what to pick out. Most of the items looked pretty hot. The Victoria’s Secret “consultant” was helpful, but I really couldn’t make up my mind.

After narrowing it down to two potential outfits I threw them both on the showroom floor and decided which one looked better on the carpet.

It seemed like a perfectly good elimination plan to me (considering that is where it was going to end up if things went right). Needless to say, the consultant was less then pleased and I, to avoid total embarrassment, purchased them both.

I have since learned my “looks-good-on-the-floor” technique was not the best way to pick out an outfit, but lately, I don’t have a clue what to pick out.

Victoria’s Secret has changed – Frankly, now too much is “secret.”

The current trend towards polar fleece and flannel has led me to believe that women actually shop there and Victoria’s Secret is actually catering towards women’s wants – go figure.

I am pretty sure Wal-Mart, Sears, and Macy’s are not good options (again, I have been properly coached).

I guess I will just have to wait until Victoria’s Secret realizes their errors in merchandizing and goes back to their target (male buyer) market.

Till then, comfortable flannel will just have to be the gift of choice this holiday. At least it is still packaged in a pretty box.

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Not by choice mind you, she is going away to college. In addition to all the social aspects she will now learn, she will have to deal with the cleaning elves not making the trip with her and the oddity of items left about will actually remain there until dealt with personally.

We have all been the cleaning elf (or should have been) and, at some point of our life, received the benefit of a cleaning elf. Frankly, I miss them.

Cleaning elves follow closely behind you, but not so close as to be seen, recognized, or appreciated. They magically make all the crud you left lying around disappear. Of course those items don’t really disappear, for the most part they end up back where they are suppose to be stored (so you can use them at a later date).

Of course, some of the items left behind are destined for the trash. A really pissed off cleaning elf will sometimes confuse the two on purpose – throwing away some items that may be missed or relocating trash from a common area to the exclusive sleeping area of the one who forced the infraction.

In all, not a bad gig. Certainly well worth it when you know at some point the tables will turn and the recipient becomes the new cleaning elf down the road. That part is truly magical.

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We are about to enter the BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity. When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

(1) The woman buys the food.
(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert ..
(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill – beer in hand.
(4) The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.

Here comes the important part:
(5) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
(6) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
(7) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat .

Important again:
(8) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
(9) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
(10) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:
(11) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
(12) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed ‘ her night off ‘, and, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women.

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I think I have just about written off any chance of children in the not-too-distant future getting a good education. 

I have never been one for private schools. Not having been personally I found some of their strategies for teaching to be less “real world” than a good public school. To me, it really came down to the kid and the level of the parent’s involvement. 

With that said, I think private schools may become the only real option for kids to excel in the future. Not because of the quality of teachers, dress codes, or morning affirmations. No, I think private schools will win because of lack of phones and ipods. 

I have always been aware kids take ipods and phones to school. Sure, one is for “safety” and the other, well, that is in case you get bored (you decide which is which). 

Anyway, the teachers in the beginning confiscated items left and right. If an iPod or phone was in view, it was taken away, disappearing into a drawer that used to be filled with firecrackers and back issues of Playboy.

Well, teachers have given up. 

Kids today (did I just say that?) routinely text each other throughout the day during class time. Heck, who isn’t bored in class? You know your friends are just a few rooms away with their phones –waiting to text the latest gossip. 

Kids can listen to music (usually with only one ear bud so they can appear to be also listening to the lesson) because, god forbid, anyone question Johnnie’s inability to learn without Metallica playing in the background. Political correctness strikes again. 

With attention spans now diverting away from the teachers our kids will learn less and less. What I call “accidental knowledge” will be lost forever. You know what I mean. When you were stuck listening to a teacher you didn’t want to, you at least still learned something (whether you wanted to or not) because you weren’t allowed to do anything else. 

Ta da…Accidental Knowledge. Stuff just got stuck in your brain because you overheard it. 

I think some of the great inventors and societal contributors started out solving the world’s problems simply because they were stuck in a class that made them listen to the teacher – only to accidentally discover the learned something of value. 

At least with a private school they will smack you around a bit if you get caught not listening. Then again, maybe it is just a matter of time before they also join the ranks of the uneducated. At least then I know it won’t be by accident. 

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I give up. I think I have mentioned before I am the guy who avoids The Cheesecake Factory because their menu scares the hell out of me. Too many choices and there is no way you can be good at cooking that many items. 

This week I found this at my local gas pump….More gas choices?

Was there a large public outcry of people that felt they did not have enough octane options? Does someone’s car really run better at 88 octane but not well at 89?  What happened to 92? Am I suppose to pick the striped label gas or the solid label gas? Is the striped label only for people in the circus? I am lost. 

Furthermore, since I did not see any additional tanks being installed during the time it went from three choices to five; this just further proves my theory all the gas comes out of the same hole in the ground. 

Enough already. If I show up and there is 88.5 octane someone is going to lose a limb! 

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*I really hate asterisks. They are seriously getting abused. I am not really sure who started them. I suspect it was someone who, back when we had actual typewriters, made a mistake and left something out in the middle of the page.

This entrepreneurial person probably thought, “crud, now what am I going to do?  I don’t want to re-type the whole page and my deadline is only minutes away!” Ta da! The asterisk enters the picture. Just draw in a little star looking symbol at the end of the word and than throw in the forgotten words at the bottom of the page. Genius! Well until other people got a hold of the asterisk and began to abuse its original intent.

For starters, the asterisk is now a method to warn people of impending doom. These were the people we used to successfully wean out of humanity and strengthen the herd. You know the people from the shallow end of the gene pool that actually thought you could take a blow dryer in to the bathtub, didn’t realize coffee may be “hot”, or that you shouldn’t put your hand in the toaster? Yep, those are the people that get some sort of an asterisk. 

In the above case, it is almost as if the asterisk carries with it the implied words…

“*No one is really stupid enough to do this, but since we haven’t met you personally and we have clearly noticed a worldwide breakdown in natural selection, we better add some additional verbiage that covers our butts in the event you use this product in some stupid ass way.”

The other groups abusing the asterisk are the attorneys that feel the need to further clarify some stupid point. These are points no one in the world cared about. Take for instance the picture from my water bottle (below). Apparently my water bottle now comes with an easier to open top. Great, I am done. No further explanation is necessary. I don’t need Power Point, pie charts, or a weekend training retreat. What I also don’t need is an asterisk telling me this easier to open cap is compared to the previous cap. Really? Wow! And here I thought it was easier to open than say, a duck*. 

*Ok, ducks are not really easy to open so it really doesn’t make my point of never using asterisks to complete some annoying point…or does it?

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