A Little Issue Of Focus

 I was sitting there at the soccer field, waiting for Handsome's practice to be over. His mother dropped him off here, but I was bringing him home. I stopped by the house on the way to the field to run in and use the bathroom. As I was leaving, running back out to the Jeep to go watch his practice, I noticed a flat package on the dining room table, right where I set up my laptop when I go there for a visit.

It's the two copies of Dark Moon Digest #5 that I ordered from Amazon.

The issue I'm in.

Huzzah!

I snagged the package off the table and headed out to the field. I opened the box before practice really got under way, and checked it out. I checked the Table of Contents, and there I am on page 35. I flip to page 35, and there's my story, “Playmate Wanted”.

There was a whistle, as practice began.

I was supposed to be watching Handsome while he practiced. He likes to look over and see one of us watching him. I looked up and he was running with the ball. I looked back down at the issue in my hands.

Eh, I've got time to watch him.

I start reading “Playmate Wanted”.

This is pretty good, I thought. I noticed things, details I had forgotten.

I glanced up. They were all in a huddle in the middle of the field. I looked back down and started reading again.

I read it twice. It's just that good!

It's probably not, really, but it's mine. Woot woot!

I was just putting it away, packing the two copies back in the shipping package together. Handsome strolled up, pants grass stained, face flushed and hair glistening with beaded sweat.

“Did you see that, Dad?”

“I sure did, Handsome,” I lied.

His face was serious.

“What did I do?”

“Uh... you were the one with the ball?”

I am in so much trouble!

Talk to you later!

P.S. - don't forget to check out my entry titled "Underdog - Superhero or Trend-Setting Speed Freak", and take part in my poll! Results posted Saturday!

Mean Little Dogs

What is it with mean little dogs? I mean the aggressive, seriously want-to-get-at-you and tear it up little dogs? I see dogs all the time, and I know there are all kinds of dogs, and aggressive dogs come in all sizes. But what's up with the little ones?

There are some dogs that are aggressive because they have been trained to be that way. You can tell those ones, the ones that have been trained to protect a property. They're usually good-sized dogs who are very aware of the property line, and they have the attitude that "Hey, Dude, this is the line of Death. You cross it, you die." I understand that, and I respect it. They are usually either penned up or tied in such a way that you can avoid them if you are careful. They are not a worry, not really.


Some dogs, usually medium to large sized dogs again, are aggressive through fear. These are the ones that people often have tied in their yard, but the leash runs from the collar to the hook beside the door. These dogs bark at you, but never charge. They just bark in a while lot if bluster, basically saying "Hey, Dude, this is the line of Death. You cross it, you die. Seriously, I mean it man, don't push me! I can't be held responsible if you push me man, so just stay over there. I'm gonna back up now, and you just stay over there! I'm warning you!"
These dogs aren't going to bite you unless they're cornered and panic. For instance, if they back onto their porch because that's where the other end of the leash is tied,and you come up to ring the bell or deliver the mail. Then they feel crowded and cornered and bite you out of fear, then run away barking "See? I warned you, Pal! Now you wait right there while I run for help! For you, I mean, help for you!"

Then there are the crazies. These come in all sizes as well, and with the larger ones you can tell where they live just by looking at the house. There are toddler-gates set up across all the windows on the ground floor to keep the insane animal in the house from coming right through the glass at you for having the gall to walk on their street!

 The smaller dogs usually wind up in this category. I have a couple of them on my route, actually. Little dogs, tiny dogs, like someone threw a collar on a rat and sold it to a nearsighted old lady as a lapdog. These dogs try to get out of the house at me, through the door and windows. They try to get off their ropes at me in the yard, or get under the fence if they know I'm on the other side; I can see their little muzzles and fore paws as they dig and scratch and snap at the fence, trying anything they can think of to get through and at me.
Even when they are being taken for a walk, not even near their houses, they see me and go right to the end of the leash, barking and snarling and clawing at the ground trying to drag their owners closer to me so they can just sink in a fang or two. They won't stop, heel, stay. or shut up, no matter what their owners say or do. Even when their exasperated humans scoop them up and try to comfort and quiet them, they continue to claw and scratch and snap their way toward me. Sometimes they hurt their humans in the process, and the humans always glare at me like I'm doing something wrong.

"You're looking right at me," I want to say. "Have I done anything? Have I even made eye-contact with your pooch? Can you please tell me anything I just did to make your dog act like someone took 10 lbs worth of aggression and anger and stuffed it into that 2 lb little bag of hair, and then set its ass on fire? No? Me either. Can you say 'pet therapy'?"





I think I do know what it is that makes those little dogs so aggressive, crazy aggressive like that. More aggressive that their larger counterparts. It's not their fault. It's not their human's faults.
It's those short little legs.
I think those short little legs mean that their junk, their genitalia, is constantly scraping and bouncing on the ground. I shudder to think about it, but have you noticed that it's never the little dogs that people carry that are aggressive? Never the pug that refuses to walk more than 5 steps and their humans just pick them up rather than argue? Never the little 'accessory dogs' that ride around in rich ladies purses all day? It's the little tiny dogs that get 'let out', and 'taken for walks' and are never carried around. All day long their 'junk' is smacking off the pavement, the lawn, the stairs ... my God, the stairs!

It's no wonder these little dogs get so over-the-top aggressive. If my junk was taking a beating all day I think I might have a bit of an attitude myself!

Talk to you later!

Smashing Videos!

Have you ever seen those 'skate videos' on YouTube? They have them on "America's Funniest Home Videos" as well. You have some kid with a video camera recording a a kid, or kids, trying and practicing stunts on skate boards.
And failing spectacularly!
They have them now for scooters, bicycles and in-line skates as well. You can usually tell when a group of people is watching one of these videos by their reactions. They all take in a sharp breath at the same time, then there is a moment of silence from them as they hold it. Pow, the breaths all come out explosively, signifying that the kid in the video has broken his leg, or landed flat on his back. Or worse, his face. In the videos, the kid is asking his friends to stop skating and help him find all his teeth, while in the real world the people are all saying things like "Did you see that?" I can't believe that, when he landed on the... and the pole hit him right in the... did you see that?"
No. I did not see that.
I can watch slasher flicks, war movies, and car crash videos. I love action movies, fight scenes and brutal death scenes. But I can't watch those kids wrecking themselves on their skateboards.
Faces of Death?
     Seen it.
Friday the 13th?
     Yawn.
I Spit on Your Grave, Tokyo Gore Police, Saw...
     Whatever.
I mean, sure there are parts that make me flinch, or say "wow, I wouldn't wanna be that guy!", but I can at least watch the damn things! But not those kids maiming themselves in stunts. For some reason I hate those vids; can't watch 'em, and avoid 'em like the plague.

Until now.

If you are like me, and you can't bring yourself to watch these videos that other people can't seem to tear themselves away from, I can help. I can tell you the secret that will allow you to stand there in that crowd and gain the acceptance, even the respect, of co-workers and friends who may now look down on you as 'weak' since you can't watch. I discovered the secret just this weekend.

Are you ready?

Choose the person out there in the world that you can not stand. The person you hate. The person that you wouldn't mind seeing come down with some painful disease, hopefully in an embarrassing way. The person who could be in a terrible car accident, and when you heard about it in the morning and the one telling you the story said "yeah, and [such-and-such] was all messed up and taken away in an ambulance!", your first question would be "Yes, but was anybody hurt?". For some people out there it could be an ex-lover or spouse. For some of you out there we can skip the 'ex'... Could be your mother-in-law, or your boss, or a co-worker, or maybe, I don't know, your mother-in-law.
For me it's a guy I'll call M.M. When one of these videos is on I just picture every kid who goes flying through the air, or flying down the stairs, or takes a hand-rail between the testicles so hard they'll never meet again, and I picture them as good old M.M. I can stand there and watch blood spill, teeth splash across the pavement like water and what amounts to the birth of terrific facial scars. I can watch kids become forcibly double-jointed, even triple jointed, even have joints added where there previously were none, and I don't have to turn away or cover my eyes.

Try it, it works. Those people who previously thought of you as 'weak' will look at you with a new respect.
...and maybe they'll give you a little extra space around the monitor. At least until they get used to you laughing so hard.

Talk to you later!

P.S. - don't forget to check out my entry titled "Underdog - Superhero or Trend-Setting Speed Freak", and take part in my poll! Results posted Saturday!

Published!

So this morning I had an email waiting for me from Dark Moon Books, a branch of Stony Meadow Publishing. The top half of the newsletter was an advertisement that looked a lot like this:

Dark Moon Books Simply. Scary.

Issue #5 of Dark Moon Digest now available! The dark days of winter are howling outside the windows and the winds are like frosty fingers scratching at thin wooden doors. Yes, the season of the witch is upon us and the moon grows blood red. So, curl up before a nice roaring fire and feed upon the darkness with new tales from Issue #5 of Dark Moon Digest. With Marc Olivent's "Slaughterhouse" graphic serial wrapping up and Kevin McClintock's "Tenants" coming to a climatic end, our 1st anniversary issue is a real page turner. But keep that flame in the hearth glowing bright. You'll need it as evil toys, haunted amusement park rides, worms, rats and insects invade your mind. Not to mention evil in the form of humans. Or what we thought were humans. What was that? Did the lights just flicker? Probably all in your mind. Right...? Issue #5 is now available at Amazon and other fine online bookstores. Issues 1 through 4 are also still available.

Okay, it looked exactly like that. I cut and pasted it here (with Dark Moon's permission) to share it with you. Do you see that part about "evil in the form of humans. Or what we thought were humans."? That, my friends and readers, that refers to my very first published short story, "Playmate Wanted".
Can you say 'excited'?
Can you say 'ecstatic'?
Can you say 'doing a little wiggly happy dance in my chair like an excited puppy?
(Except without the peeing, of course. Well ... maybe just a tiny bit.)

So, as I was doing all this wiggling and giggling, Handsome came into the room behind me.  I pointed to the ad I had in the email.
"You see that? That right there is the magazine that's publishing me. Look, look there, I even made a mention in the ad! Sort of."

Handsome just glanced at the screen and gave me just a little perspective in all this.

"That's great, Dad. Can I have a brownie?"

And he walked out of the room.

Ah, there's my place! I see it now, thank you for pointing it out to me. I'll just get back in it now.

Talk to you later!


P.S. - don't forget to check out my entry titled "Underdog - Superhero or Trend-Setting Speed Freak", and take part in my poll! Results posted next Saturday!

Underdog - Superhero or Trend-Setting Speed Freak?

So I was thinking about Underdog. Not the recent live-action movie, but the old cartoon from when I was little. I was picturing this sad looking little guy in his droopy suit, and all I could think was Man, this was a superhero back then? A talking dog in long-johns that are about nine sizes too big?

And the talking dog thing wasn't even that special in the old cartoon. Lots of dogs in that world talked and worked and were regular people. Underdog even had a weird issue: he always spoke in rhyme. A speech impediment? Some form of mental disorder? I mean, really? Really?

And another thing that seemed a little... let's say 'less than heroic' to me. There were lots of episodes where Underdog would work and work and eventually become exhausted. His solution? A secret compartment in his ring where he kept an 'Underdog super energy pill'.  He'd dry-swallow the pill and wham he was hit with a huge burst of energy, allowing him to go on and save the day.

Can you say 'amphetamine addict'? Come on, say it with me: 'Amphetamine addict'. I think it was no wonder Simon Barsinister and Riff-Raff and the others kept escaping from prison. While the sirens were going off and searchlights were playing back and forth over the barb-wired walls, Shoeshine Boy was off on some street corner scoring a new supply! It was no wonder he had weird speech patterns. He got to the point where he was popping pills right in front of Sweet Polly Purebread, so he must have been pretty wrecked a lot of the time, doing it publicly like that.

As a matter of fact, I recall at least one time when Polly was the one to pop the pill. What is Underdog, some kind of pusher? If they caught him, and could have held him, he would have been top dog on the inside!

That got me thinking as well. Those droopy clothes of his, they look familiar. Not like something I saw 40 years ago, but like something I've seen more recently ... and then it hit me. All those kids I see walking around with their pants hanging half-way down their backsides!  It's supposed to be a fashion that started in the prison system... what if they are all paying homage to this powerful speed-freak amphetamine dealer? Are all these kids Underdog wannabes? Hmm...

So you decide for yourself. Was Underdog a superhero with a poor sense of style and a minuscule budget for uniforms? Or was he a trend-setting speed freak with criminal connections and a speech impediment?

Please, throw your answer into the poll to the right. Participation gets you nothing but satisfaction, but hey, I'll enjoy seeing it!

Talk to you later!

There's No Obligation...

I was logging into my blog the other day when I saw an ad on my Yahoo homepage.
     "Many people are refinancing their homes! Wouldn't you like to take advantage of a refinancing to make your mortgage payments lower?"

Honestly, I'd probably do anything up to, but not including, clubbing a harp seal to make my payments go down. And if it came right down to it that seal would be better off never turning his back on me.

     "Answer just a few questions and we can give you an estimate! See how much you could save! No obligation, it's a free estimate! What have you got to lose?"

That's a good point, I thought. What do I have to lose? There's no obligation, and it's free.


Okay, so I admit, I was curious. And never having actually been a cat owner my mind did not immediately jump to that old saying about curiosity and it's detrimental effects on the feline population. I started filling in answers.

• Amount left on your mortgage? (We will not share this information.)
• Got it...
• Current interest rate? (We will not share this information.)
• Okay...
• Location of house? (City, State, etc.)  (We will not share this information.)
• Not a problem...
• Your name?  (We will not share this information.)
• Well... okay, I suppose that couldn't hurt ... besides, Google Chrome had auto-filled this in for me already.
• Your E-mail address? (We will not share this information.)
• Well, they say they're not going to share it, and I guess I have to give them something...
• Your phone number?  (We will not share this information.)
• Well, it's my cell phone... this seems to be going a little far just for some program to throw me a number, but Chrome already auto-filled that too ... I guess I'll leave it ... they said they  won't share it...
• Your Social Security Number?  (We will not share this information.)
• Okay, that's it. This is way too much just for a program to run some numbers and spit out an answer. 

I backed out, and killed the query. I went on to my blog and did the stuff I had gone there to do and went on to work. While I am inside the post office itself the building usually blocks my cell reception, so my morning was alright. Then I went outside to load my route into my truck.
The phone on my hip began to vibrate.
I had two missed calls with voice mails and three text messages on a phone that usually has very few of either. Thinking that there had been some emergency with my son or his mom, I dialed into my voice mail immediately.
"Hi, Rob? This is Karen down at Fidelity Mutual. I was calling in response to this internet request I got for information about the refinancing of your home. If you could give me a call back at -"
There was a beep as I deleted the message. Next message:
"Hi, Rob, this is Mark at Mortgage Mutual, and I was -BEEP"
Deleted.
I checked the texts I had waiting. All from mortgage companies.
Those sons of @#$%es shared my information! I understand now that that was the plan all along, and what I took to be some little automatic stunt program was actually to get all these people to call me to work out estimates with me.
I don't have time.
I don't have the inclination.
I don't have the patience.

So now I just don't answer my phone and just pick up the voice mails occasionally, stabbing the 'delete' button like a maniac. All I hear are suave voices and the deleting beep.

"Hi Rob, this is Elisa over at Western Mutual - BEEP"
"Hello, sir, this is Tom at Quicken - BEEP"
"Good afternoon, Rob, we understand that you recently scored very high on our 'How much information can we yank out of this idiot simply by asking him questions in the internet' test, and I was hoping to talk to you about -BEEP"
"BEEP"
"BEEP"
"BEEP"

So. I'm going to change the outgoing message on my phone. If any of you, my friends, call what you know to be my phone number, you may hear a strangely accented voice (it's a really poor imitation of the South African villain from Lethal Weapon II) saying "Hello, you have reached the telephone of Cestus Wataloobi. I can not answer the phone right now as I am currently out job hunting. Please leave a message after the beep, especially if you are a prospective employer. I accept the job, whatever it is. I'm so broke I can not even afford to eat cat food and am reduced to eating hamster pellets. Leave a message, won't you? BEEP"

Don't worry. It's me.

Or is it? Hmmm.....

Talk to you later!

Well Hydrated?

I didn't write the blog today at lunch, as I was not in the library. I was waiting for a call from my doctor about my appointment this afternoon, so I had my ringer turned on and the volume up (my phone is usually set to vibrate) and I had to be in a place where I could take a call. I wound up skipping lunch to get out of work a little earlier and having to call the doctor's office myself rather than waiting for the call-back. I went to the appointment, they did the blood draw, and I was out of there. I had made sure to hydrate before they tried to take my blood, and when I left the doc's I realized I was in dire need of a bathroom. Since I have to pass my parent's house on the way to visit Handsome, I stopped in there to use the facilities.
I let myself in and strolled into the downstairs bathroom. I was standing in front of the toilet, just doing my thing, when the phone on my hip rang. Loudly.
Remember how I said I usually keep it on vibrate only?
I shouted a four-letter word that is, coincidentally, usually associated with bathrooms. I know at least one of my feet left the floor; it may have been both, I'm not sure. Time went all funny, like in the Matrix movies, and I had an excellent, almost slow-motion view of, uh, I'll say 'fluid dynamics'.
I came within a hair of urinating all over the bathroom wall.
I said a couple more choice curse words as the phone continued to ring. When I was all done I zipped, flushed, and stepped out in to the kitchen, snatching the phone from my belt on the way. I stabbed a button and plastered the mobile to my head.
"Hello?"
Good, that was good. I didn't sound like someone who makes the children in 'remedial toilet training' look like flipping geniuses.
"Hello? Is this Rob?"
"Yes." So far, so good.
"Do you have a minute, sir? I'd like to talk to you about refinancing your house!"
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it quizzically. I could hear the dude on the other end still yammering away, sounding a bit like a steroidal chipmunk. I put the phone very close to my mouth and spoke quite clearly.
"No."
I hung up.

Talk to you later!