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OMG WTF XMAS IS S0 LIKE JUST 2 MONTHZ AWAY!!!!1!!!! LOL

As usual, I am stoked, and plan major decorations that can be seen from space. Also as usual, I will probably get a few lights up and spend too much money on presents. I love Christmas.

I’ve done some shopping, but of course I feel unbelievably behind. My main problem is that I never know what to get people. No one should have this problem with me, because I maintain a truly comprehensive Amazon wish list of stuff that I want. Since no one else bothers to do this, you’re all getting John Mayer CDs!

Haha! Just kidding. I’m sure you all already own all his CDs.

I need to come up with some fun stuff to get my wife. I’m pretty sure I know what big things to get her, but she and I have an annual competition in which I spend a lot of money, but still “lose” because in the end I give her like 2 pricey presents and she gives me roughly 3 dozen individually wrapped gifts, most of them fairly inexpensive, each of them unbelievably thoughtful and useful.

It’s also hard buying stuff for my parents, because if they want something, they go out and buy it. So I’m left with trying to find things for them that they wouldn’t be able to find themselves, which is increasingly difficult because of the internets and QVC. They’re both getting thong collections, I think.

I think what I’m going to do is just buy a bunch of presents for Charles, and let everybody open them. Not because he won’t be able to open them himself; I fully expect him to be able to open each one in turn and fling them at the cats.

Ye gods, two political posts in a row? Sorry! Come back tomorrow, when I get back to my usual discussion of various wangs.

I was reading Tuesday Morning Quarterback today, and came across something I think needed a response. TMQ is penned by Gregg Easterbrook, with whom I agree on most football topics (he likes to see more running and less passing in the NFL, for example), and disagree on most political topics. I am coming around to his side of things a bit, since it’s becoming clearer that the Bush Administration is single-handedly destroying the fundamental freedoms of the greatest country the world has ever known, but I found this a bit, well, unfocused:

A few months ago President Bush said the estimate he has been given by military intelligence is 30,000 Iraqi deaths caused either directly by our military or set in motion by our invasion. . . by invading Iraq we made ourselves responsible for what happened next, and what has happened next is killing of the innocent.

And here’s my emailed response:

Now, I’m no defender of the President or his tactics; I believe that our invasion of Iraq was justified, but GROSSLY, even criminally, mismanaged by this administration. However, I don’t think that we’re responsible for every dead non-combatant Iraqi any more than we’re responsible for those who were killed by Saddam while we made no effort to stop him.

I think we can categorize civilian deaths thusly:
a) Those who died of natural causes, and can be ignored for this discussion.
b) Those who were killed accidentally by American military action (happened to be standing nearby when a laser-guided bomb took out a weapons depot, etc.). Obviously, America bears the bulk of the responsibility for these deaths (although the use of “human shields” by Saddam certainly didn’t save a lot of innocent lives).
c) Those who were killed purposely by American military action, which obviously is murder. Obviously this happens, although I don’t think it happens much. (I don’t have any statistics to bear this out, so I’m willing to admit I’m wrong if I turn out to be so.)
d) Those who were killed by Saddam’s loyal troops and/or insurgents (which I believe to be the bulk of the of the deaths).

I agree that category B is sad, but a necessary consequence of war. I’m no professor of military history, but I think a major bungle in the Vietnam conflict was the government’s attempt to soothe open public relations sores by halting the bombing of targets in North Vietnam. Attempting to prosecute war and making the lives of non-combatants the first priority results in the deaths of Americans. Am I placing the value of the life of an American soldier over that of an Iraqi child? Yes. Yes I am.

Category C is murder, and everyone involved in it needs to be brought to justice. I believe that this is what happens in those few situations.

Category D is, flatly, not our fault. In WWII, the Nazis made a practice of getting revenge for successful missions by the French Resistance (and other underground groups) by simply grabbing innocent citizens and gunning them down. Knowing that this would happen didn’t stop the Resistance from operating, nor should it have.

Put a different way, if a Mafioso gets convicted of a crime and sentenced to jail, and in response he has the prosecutor’s family killed, is that the prosecutor’s fault?

This email is ridiculously long and needs to be edited, but since I just read all 8742 words of TMQ, I feel no guilt.

Your thoughts? Keep in mind, when it comes to political discussions, I am completely out of my depth and basically an idiot.

To all of my liberal, semi-hippie friends: I surrender. I concede. I confess. You win.

I don’t often discuss politics in this space, for the simple reason that I disagree with almost everyone, and no one would really bother reading my stuff if all I did was rail about the Drug War, or the Iraq War. I’m more interested in discussing human interest stuff like the Pee War, which is a game my son likes to play during bath time in which he pees all over the kitchen (we wash him in the kitchen sink) and we attempt to block the urine stream with our hands. This is Fatherhood in a nutshell: getting pee all over your body in an effort to prevent said pee from getting in the toaster.

Nevertheless, those who know me well know that for a long time I have espoused fairly libertarian views. My thoughts have long been, well, if it doesn’t hurt anybody, who cares? What I hadn’t considered, unfortunately, was how completely incapable the average American is of knowing when he might be hurting someone else.

Until recently, I believed that if you want to talk on your cellphone while driving, and you don’t drive into anyone, you should be allowed to do that. Personally, I try to avoid it, but then I talk on the phone as little as possible anyway. I have changed my mind on this subject, because I realize now that the the majority of Americans are simply too flat-out stupid to be allowed this privilege. I was caught behind a guy on the way to work today who:

1. Pulled out in front of me, causing me to have to decelerate to avoid hitting him.
2. Drove significantly under the speed limit.
3. When the next light turned yellow, he, despite being about a 1/2 second away from it, actually braked as if he was going to stop, causing at least 2 people behind me to miss the light.
4. Didn’t use his signal once to indicate any lane change or turn.

He had his cellphone to his ear the entire time. I’m not sure if the cellphone CAUSED him to drive like an idiot, or if it’s just an indicator of his general stupidity. What I do know is this: of the various idiots that ride in the left lane when they aren’t passing, fail to signal lane changes and turns, and cut me off in traffic, at least 85% of them are on the phone at the time. Of course, 85% of drivers are usually on the phone at any given time, so this might be statistically pointless, but it still makes me want to beat them to death with my bare damn hands.

So yes: I will probably vote Democrat in the next election because a jerk cut me off in traffic. I am one fickle bastard.

I have mixed emotions over the Cardinals’ big win over the Mets last night. On the one hand, I hate the Mets. On the other hand, I’m fond of both the Tigers and the Cards, so picking someone to root for in the Series will be difficult. It almost would have been easier if the Mets had won; then I could root for the Tigers (the likely champs anyway) with great gusto. Still, any time the Mets lose, I get a warm feeling in my belly.

I think I’ll probably root for the Cards. They and the Phils are both in the National League, so there’s a whole “Bros before Hos” thing going on (the NL teams being Bros, and the AL teams being Hos). Also, the Cardinals have been fighting through the playoffs for the last 4 or 5 years in a row and haven’t won a championship yet (memorably getting swept by the Red Sox in 2004), so I think they’re due. Plus, they’re considered the underdogs, which means they find a soft spot in the heart of most Americans. Lastly, every time Albert Pujols comes to bat, my wife giggles.

I don’t know if all of you have been watching any of the baseball postseason, but if you have, you’ve undoubtedly seen Tommy Lasorda’s playoffs commercials. For those of you that haven’t, here’s the basic gist: Tommy shows up (in a tux?!?) at a house in which there are between 1 and 5 baseball fans hiding in trees or cabinets because their team(s) didn’t make the playoffs. Tommy exhorts them to come out and watch the games anyway, because while they are [Indians|Cubs|Phils] fans, they’re “bigger fans of baseball!” He then yells “TO THE TV!” Kills me.

My favorite one is the guy in the tree, in which Tommy asks the guy’s wife, “Who’s his favorite team?” She responds, “The Cubbies,” and Tommy makes a sound like somebody had just wiped a turd on his shirt. I’ve nearly wet my pants every time. (It’s funny ’cause the Cubs suck.)

In other sports news, the Flyers have lost four straight, but luckily it’s hockey so nobody cares.

I’m heck of busy today, running around like a wild man (who isn’t?), but I wanted to share something amusing with you, and so therefore I give you this. Just pictures, not a movie or sound, but highly entertaining. The one that keeps making me wet my pants is this one:

Phenomenal times.

How strange must it be to be an infant. You wake up, a familiar friendly face giggles and coos at you, changes your clothes and diaper, feeds you, and then hands you off to another vaguely familiar face, that takes you outside and puts you into a car. You fall asleep. You wake up in a completely different place, surrounded by completely different people.

It’s like time travel, I think.

Yesterday, I picked up Charles at his grandparents’ house and put him in my car, where he fell asleep. Then I headed over to the Opera Delaware studios to try on a costume and wig, at which time his OTHER grandparents showed up (Mom and Dad are in the chorus of the opera) and woke him up. Surrounded by complete strangers, he was, and pretty freaked out by it. Luckily, he’s a relatively happy baby, so he calmed down nicely and smiled for everybody.

Then he got his vengeance by flat-out refusing to go to sleep until 10pm.

I’m still kinda sick, myself, but somehow I’ll survive. The agonizing throat pain has subsided, so now I just have some sniffles. I fully expect Charles and Sarah to get sick simultaneously. Really looking forward to that.

It is getting, it is getting, it is getting rather hectic all up in this piece. Yo.

In my ongoing project to make hip-hop music accessible to aging white folks, I give you the first verse of “Scenario,” originally by A Tribe Called Quest, as performed by Trent Lott:

Here we are, sir. Here we are sir. What is your current situation?
Here we are, sir. Here we are sir. What is your current situation?

While young Vincent may be aware of many things, he sadly ignorant, as he is incapable of rhyming.
Pay attention: I am about to do so in his stead, and, might I add, for free.
My time is valuable, however, as I need to earn money so that I might be able to feed my family.
My esteemed colleagues intimate that we are incapable of rhyming ourselves, but let them be reminded that they have underestimated us in the past, to their grief.

If you are tired, I can offer you a generic cold medicine, but you may miss information that you may find interesting:
I am extremely good-looking and have superb hair.
So that you might be made aware of my heritage, I will ejaculate upon you.
I am tired of and angry with your inability to accept my legitimacy on this stage!
Perhaps you should retreat to Mexico and partake of their spicy foods.
I will continue to perform here as needed.
So, please, have a seat, and enjoy our fine hospitality.
Worry not about what has been said today, and remain self-confident in all things.

*hack* *cough* *sniff* *snort painkillers*

Sick. Not real bad sick, but sick enough that I didn’t go to the office. I am of course dialing into all the usual meetings, so I’m not entirely sure I can say I’m resting. Luckily, I have TV available to me, and plenty of food, and I don’t have to wear pants. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted! Except that my throat feels like somebody made me gargle with battery acid.

I, of course, thought all weekend that my allergies were just acting up. I had mowed the lawn on Saturday morning, so I figured once my body had expelled all the mold spores and grass seed bits, I’d be breathing normally. So I went to all my Carmen rehearsals as scheduled and breathed all over the leads. Truly wonderful. Hopefully nobody important gets sick. I’m going to advise them to bathe in vats of Purell.

I’m taking various medications (mostly just ibuprofen at this point, since my sinuses are reasonably clear, it’s just my throat that’s in agony), and hoping this thing will blow over by the weekend.

Meanwhile, rehearsals continue, and while I’m clearly still out of the league of the other folks, the differences aren’t QUITE so glaring, since at least I know my lines now. (Yes: it’s an opera, and it has dialogue. Apparently this is something relatively common with “light” French opera of the late 19th century. Who knew?) I also get to participate in a swordfight, and no one’s been injured yet! Miracles: may they never cease.

That’s all I have time for at the moment because I need to go cough up part of my lung, but I shall be back at a later date, fo shizzle.

Went I went out to my car this morning, there was frost on it. And the grass. It’s winter! Yaaaaay!

It’ll probably be in the 80s next week. And people wonder why I spend this time of year heavily sick. I’m lucking out at the moment; I’m sure I’ll catch the full-blown flu the week “Carmen” opens.

Nothing much occurring around here other than that. I ran 3.3 miles in 32:16 the other day, my fastest time since I had to outrun those South American natives after I stole their golden idol. Man, were they pissed. Based on my calculations, I should be able to run a 5K in 30 minutes 33 seconds. I could take State with those kind of numbers. Hopefully my Lil Sis and I will set some ridiculous records for “5K time for a brother-and-sister combo weighing a combined 350+” when we run our 5K in November. I have no doubt that it will happen. Because I am hella fast. For a fat kid.

You may have noticed that my output here as increased over the last few weeks; no, I’m not any less busy, but I’m coming to the realization that if I don’t do a better job of keeping y’all in giggles, what miniscule readership I have (hi Mom!) will disappear. If I were you, I would expect to see more stuff here, mostly just pointless blog entries completely devoid of anything that makes any bloody sense, each of them probably not much longer than THIS pointless entry making little sense. Since I won’t be bothering to edit much, you’ll be noting more grammatical errors and the like, so don’t think I’ve had a stroke or anything. I’m just in a big dang hurry.

Stay loose, killers. More to come next week.

Wow, does my brain hurt. A whirlwind few days of “Carmen” rehearsals have left us with one simple fact: I am working with very talented people, and am only barely keeping my head above water. It’d be helpful if I could learn my dialogue and music, I think, so I’ve spent probably 10 out of the last 24 hours muttering to myself in French. In French! And I’m enjoying it, which is doubly surprising. I’d always considered French to be the province of beret-wearing, chain-smoking, skinny men with a deep knowledge of Proust.

I have more of a knowledge of Beavis and Butthead, myself.

In other news, Charles continues to expand in size and capabilities; despite having a head that’s planetary in scale, when lying down he basically insists upon holding his head and legs in the air. It’s an abdominal workout that I can’t even begin to duplicate. It’s becoming clear that our son is very strong. Like, World’s Strongest Man strong. It’s my dream to see him competing against Swedes, his enormous belly hanging out over his kidney belt, throwing huge boulders at passersby. If he was green I’d’ve named him Bruce Banner. Or maybe Elphabor, or something.

Note: the previous paragraph contains something for everybody: sports references, comic book characters, even Broadway shows. Thusly, it probably made sense to no one on this earth but myself. Forgive me: my brain is functioning partly in French at this point.

Charles also seems pretty darn smart, if you ignore the fact that right now he’s attempting to eat plastic. I base this on his ability to watch Baby Einstein DVDs; he lasted about 15 minutes through one the other day and followed everything. This is in sharp contrast to Sarah and I, who sit and stare at the screen for the full 30 minutes as if we had just eaten a 13×9 pan of pot brownies.

Not that I, uh, know what those are. Just…nevermind.