The Land Of Delta Blues

In the wake of returning the heavy lifting gear, I find myself once again on a plane, bound for Memphis. Talking to Don Kessler, who moved from Hollywood to Hattiesburg. Then it's a short flight. Small airports on each end. It gives me time to decompress. I'm not in charge of anything. I'm just along for the ride. And that's just fine with me.

Until my limo vanishes! I'm walking around the humid shadows of the airport, trying to find the guy holding a sign with my name. But he's nowhere to be found. Fortunately I have two things at my disposal: a blackberry and a very (VERY!) good cup of coffee. And before I finish the later, the former is used to summon my ride.

And after I arrive, I wash it down with a phenomenal medium-rare ribeye steak.

The rest of the day is just work. Describing it would only result in premature sterility.

But the night ended with a first class, executive-level bang. I got to hang out with all the upper level folks (CFO, CEO, all the chiefs!) watching the NCAA finals. In the rainman suite. With buckets of beer and all kinds of greasy fratboy food (pizza and wings and fries) and a dozen men screaming and cheering about basketball. Quite a party. A rare treat. A brief glimpse into their lifestyle. And I lived to tell about it.

We all float down here.

Return To Thunderdome

Two things that will be hard to believe, but 1) I fired up the backhoe with a front loader, 2) I started early. Like 8AM early. I've provided photographic evidence for doubters!

Each scoop was probably the equivalent of an entire wheelbarrow load of sand. And I moved nearly a hundred of them. It may have cost a couple of hundred to rent the hardware, but it would have cost a lot more to repair my spine after moving all those loads manually. At any rate, I couldn't do too much before the rain came. And then more rain. And even more. Of course during the ONLY weekend I rent a monster truck, there's a flash flood. Before it was over, we had 4 inches of standing water. And that was on TOP of the sand. Would have been worse before the spreading.

I wrapped up and we all had dinner with Paw Paw Raybourn & Granny Pam. We tried O Charlies, but there was no staff and a forty five minute wait. Instead we settled for TGIFriday's. Unfortunately that was an expensive turd and I doubt we'll ever go back. The service was fair, but the food was cold and the floor was so dirty and greasy I nearly did a face plant when I took Liam to wash up. I know it isn't exactly easy to run a dinner, but it isn't rocket science and you'd think "Hot Food" wouldn't be asking too much.

The day was salvaged by Meg's jokes. She took every opportunity to prank Cindy with things like, "Lookout, Mommy, snake!" And Cindy would feign a scream. Followed, every time, by Meg laughing and yelling, "April Fool!"

My little joker.

God help me.

Bow down

When we start making legal rulings against SOFTWARE, it is time to to planning a brand new Faraday cage for the house!

First we let them practice law without a license, then we let them pilot our aircraft, and the next thing you know, we're in the middle of The Singularity! Then it gets Old Testament, Mr. Mayor, real wrath-of-God type stuff. Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies. Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes... The dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria!

In the meanwhile, here's what I'm talking about:

"The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the ruling.

The software did, indeed, go far beyond providing clerical services. It determined where (particularly, in which schedule) to place information provided by the debtor, selected exemptions for the debtor and supplied relevant legal citations. Providing such personalized guidance has been held to constitute the practice of law.

(...)

(The) system touted its offering of legal advice and projected an aura of expertise concerning bankruptcy petitions; and, in that context, it offered personalized -- albeit automated -- counsel. ... We find that because this was the conduct of a non-attorney, it constituted the unauthorized practice of law."

I, for one, look forward to bowing down before our new computerized masters!

Godspeed Mr. Baudrillard

Jean Baudrillard died today at the age of 77, in France. I read his book "Simulacra and Simulation"after grad school (1995?) and it continues to haunt me to this day. One of his arguments (back then) was that our financially motivated mass media and our ultra modern consumerist society has created such a chaotic and confusing structure of symbols and artificial experiences that it is impossible for us to see our reality as it actually exists.

The book must have had a huge impact on the Wachowski brothers as Baudrillard's philosophy is all over their trilogy, The Matrix. If you look closely at the book where Neo hides his data disc, it is none other than "Simulacra and Simulation." (See attached picture if you don't have a DVD of The Matrix available.)

Baudrillard once wrote: "Information can tell us everything. It has all the answers. But they are answers to questions we have not asked, and which doubtless don't even arise. "

And on America, he wrote, "Deep down, the US, with its space, its technological refinement, its bluff good conscience, even in those spaces which it opens up for simulation, is the only remaining primitive society. "

And, even back in the mid-90s, he knew enough to say, "Television knows no night. It is perpetual day. TV embodies our fear of the dark, of night, of the other side of things. "

Good night, Mr Baudillard, and good luck.

A boy's first novel

Liam wrote his first book, today. 6 pages of literary might:

The Karate Master, by Liam

There once was a karate master who could
do anything. But the cool thing is, he was only 7!! Isn't that amazing?!

He started when he was only 3 1/2! But each week he would get
another belt. And even when he was sick, he would go to karate!

But when he got his black belt he dissipearded! His family was
SHOCKED!

No one new where he went. Neather did he. But he had
traveled 100 years into the PAST!!

There he felt something in his
pocket. But it was just a stone. A magic stone. Then he said "I wish I was back
home."

Then he woke up. He was back home.

The
End

I think the next book should depict the young hero fighting wolverines in Canada.

The yard

We get an early start. There is plenty left to do. And my best girl is joining me, today! I’m back behind the controls of the stump grinder and Cindy is on clean up detail, hauling limbs and trimming up overgrown areas so I can find the hidden stumps.

At some point, I decide to hack down a smallish oak between our carport and the fence. It blocks the path to our backyard. And I’m tired of navigating around it with the trashcan at night. So OFF WIF ‘IS ‘EAD!

I get to chopping, eliminating the limbs and pruning it down to just the trunk. Little do I realize how much an eight foot length of 1’ trunk weighs. I should have known when I heard the dull thud of it striking the ground. But, I’m stupid on multiple levels. And before I think it through, I muscle up one end, creep under the middle of it, and hoist it up. Suddenly aware of the full weight of the thing slowly pressing me into the cold, soft earth.

There I was, squatting in the mud and sawdust and debris with at least two hundred pounds of freshly felled oak across my shoulders, harboring a mental dialogue something along the lines of:
Smart Jon: This is really REALLY stupid, you know.
Stupid Jon: No tree gets the better of me!
Smart Jon: Um, you are a computer jockey. You don’t work with trees.
Stupid Jon: I can do this!
Smart Jon: It isn’t worth blowing a disk in your back.
Stupid Jon: I go to the gym! I have muscles (somewhere!)
Smart Jon: You should cut this massive thing in half.
Stupid Jon: HULK SMASH!

But, of course, I clenched my jaw and stood up. Forced my legs to bear the weight. And step by step carried that tree trunk into the back yard. Onto the pile of limbs we’re hording for disposal next week. I actually slammed it down. Panting and sweating and savoring the moment. It didn’t wreck my back. It didn’t pull any muscles. It felt good. It felt like I was alive. And I could do anything: Grind a stump. Cut down trees. The Larch. The Sequoia. The Giant Redwood! The Mighty Oak! I could conquer them all. I could be a lumber jack!

And Cindy catches me with her eye. Plants her feet and points to the grinder, “Hey, quit playing! Get back to work, on the yard!”

Yes, honey.

Daily grind

Meg & Gigi set sail for One Eyed Willy’s, to raid a birthday party. With Cindy at work, that leaves me and Liam free to have our own adventures.

Unfortunately, the boy doesn’t care for my plan. I want to wreak some destruction on the remains of trees in our yard. He wants to buy a Webkinz and design a room for it. I want to be productive and get some projects marked off my list. He wants to be a boy and enjoy the good life.

We end up doing both. After a trip to Barnes & Noble for a café mocha with an extra shot of espresso for me and a couple of comic books for him, I haul a rented stump grinder to the house and Liam picks up a plush pug bulldog from Hallmark. He helps me unload the machine and I help him setup his room on WebKinz.com and win a couple of extra bucks for decorations. Then we have a split lunch, Sonic for Boy Wonder, and Taco Bell for Jon Daddy. By late afternoon, we’re happy and there’s no sign of the girls.

I spend the rest of the day grinding stumps of all sizes and shapes. (See the bliss etched on my face?) The destruction feels good. Reminds me of the days (and weeks) after the storm, clearing away the debris and the unwanted remains of our former lives. It might only be a couple of hours of clearing off our property, but it is like therapy. By the end of it, I’m whistling and smiling and looking forward to more work tomorrow.

In the meanwhile, Liam has been playing games on the computer and earning money for his new pet, Gollum, the plush pug bulldog. He already has a trampoline, a bed, and some chairs. Next he’s going build an out-door room and load it up with more exercise equipment.

I’m destroying. Liam’s building. Father and son. We each have our own daily grind.

Clear skies

The delluge has passed. We escaped untouched.

It feels good to be back in the gym after fight off a cold last week. I didn't get SICK, but I was lethargic and had too much on my mind. Grandama was is the hospital. Jason's wife was in the hospital. Nothing was clicking right.

But I've been back and I ran 4 miles last night. First time I ran in a month. New ipod earbuds helped. Started with pilates. Worked out my back and biceps. And conclued with thirty minues on the treadmill. Drenched in sweat and happy to have it pouring.

Today, I bought a new wallet. Bought a new rachet set. Brought home supplies to experiment with a new powershake recommended by Pat Robertson. And ended the night watching Liam and his friend Steven play Star Wars: Battlefield II on the Playstation.

Oh, to be young again....

Deity Needed, Inquire Within

If you want to know why I no longer watch CNN or Fox or MSNBC or anything that claims to be a new channel, let's look at what the media is spoon feeding us:

• Brittany is bald. And she can't decide if she wants to stay in rehab. We should stay tuned for her next failure as a mother and a human.
• Anna Nicole "family" is not only fighting over rights to her corpse, but also custody of her infant daughter (who still doesn't know the identity of her biological father.) We should keep watching because somebody is going to end up collecting the millions she stole from a wizened mummy she "married," a decade ago.
• Beyonce is safe from Hepatitis A. We need to keep buying BootyLicious ringtones in honor of her brave struggle!

Meanwhile, let's look at how we react to actual events that effect real human beings that don't live in fifty gillion dollars houses and don't own ninety two cars with spinning rims:

• We don't blink when we see that parts of the country received as much as thirty inches of snow today.
• We don't stop to gape when we see footage of tornadoes killing nineteen people in two states, including five that died next door in Enterprise, AL, when a twister collapsed the roof of a high school and dropped tons of debris on our children.
• Nobody is bothered that in 2006 we spent $200,000/minute fighting in Iraq

Please, God. I'm begging you, Allah. Hear my pleas, Yahweh. Reach down, Buddha. Save us, Great Xemu! Somebody, PLEASE smite Hollywood. Drown them. Burn them. Locus-plague them. Turn them to trendy pillars of salt. Do anything you can to end our misery and return our vision so that we can go back to things like: helping our fellow man, improving the world for our children, and generally being rational human beings who care about one another!

Into the octagon

At karate tonight, I watched Liam spar for the first time. With the gloves and the helmet and the mouthpiece, he's a different boy. So focused and determined. I couldn't believe how charged the other kid and started throwing combinations. Mostly punches and a stray kick, but he chained them all together and didn't stop. The other kid, Chase, barely kept up. Liam must have thrown at least five punches for every one that his opponent threw. And when Liam started circling and attacking from odd angles, poor Chase could looked confused.

I was so proud of Liam. I was cheering and smiling the whole time. He'd been training with me for weeks, and finally his work paid off. After five minutes, Liam hadn't even broken a sweat. He wasn't winded. Chase had his hands down by his sides and I could see him breathing through his mouth.

But my boy, Liam, he was golden.

Liam's line

I'm driving Liam to spend the night with Gigi and he tells me:

I don't get Tag. I like being "it." But I have to immediately go tag somebody? I'd be "it" the whole time.

I could only laugh and lean my arm through to the back seat: Give me five, buddy. You're "it," Liam. You're "it."

Personal Milestone

Just came home from the gym. Another notch of my milestones. I was having a great workout during my shoulder routine and managed to get to 140lb shoulder press on the freeweight machine. While I was in Atlanta, I started with 40lbs and could feel the obvious weakness in my lowerback and I used to think I could feel the bones in my right shoulder close to popping out of socket.

Two years and one storm later, I've more than trippled that weight. For me, it is an accomplishment. A new height I never thought I could reach. Another inch I've raised my personal bar.

MOVIE: Elektra (aka Uberturd)

Short version: Crappiest piece of crap ever crapped into a crapper.

Long version: Some ganked up Hollywood icehead actually believed the comic-reading public would be fond of an "action movie" where the first hour actually contains NO ACTION. Next, the now-utterly-bored viewers we supposed to swallow a ninja-trained, halter-top wearing professional assassin spontaneously developing a soft spot in her heart and having mercy on one of her targets because he's a single father. Then the four comic-junkies left in the audience are treated the most profoundly pussified super-henchmen to ever crap on the Big Screen. And finally, the grand conclusion is a drawn out pansy fest where the villains are they're so easily defeated that Liberace rose from the grave just to laugh at them and offer them pink purses to go with their little pink dresses.

With the release of Elektra, an all new level of suckitude has been reached. And a small piece of the universe has died because this flick saw the light of day.

I would rather perform an un-sedated vasectomy on myself with a George Foreman grill than see this movie again. Though I think the act of watching the whole thing has already rendered me sterile.

Personal Milestone

A new record today. I was doing my chest routine in the gym and hit 210lbs on the free weight machine. After taking off last week, I decided to see how well rested I was and hit the flat bench. While I was in Atlanta, working out with Kimmer, I could barely do a couple of reps of 130lbs, mostly with his help and a lot of straining. Today, I krept under the bar and banged out three sets of 130lbs. Without anyone spotting me. Without bursting a blood vessel.

It's only 130lbs, but it was a celebration for me. Something I'd never been able to do. And today I did it, alone.

Clan McDougal expands

Jason called. He was excited and they had just finished a visit with the OB/GYN. As you can guess: IT'S A GIRL!

They're going to name her Morgan A-Something McDougal. I'm sorry, Jay, I can't remember the middle name. I keep thinking about the initials: M.A.M.

Death in luxury

Cruising to work this morning. Trying to figure what God has in store of us this year. Last night I'm wearing shorts. Today it is 39 degrees. God has jokes. That's what I like about him. And when I go to meet him, I want to ride in a Cadillac. A sweet sweet, quad exhaust, fuel injected death ride like the one I see smoothing in front of me this morning. Black and slick and fine as the hair on a newborn's head. I don't think I've ever wanted to be in a hearse so bad. Pimpus Ex Mortis. Even had some tricked out rims and a stereo I could feel three car-lengths away.

That's how I want to go. Blasting some Iron Maiden, rolling in the 2005 Cadillac Deathmobile. And yea though I walk through the valley of Katrina, I shall fear no evil. For it will be a sweet ride in the end.

MOVIE: A Scanner Darkly

Ever since Beetle Juice, I've been waiting to see Winona's... um... talents. Twenty years worth of patience gets me the cartoon version. Works for me! That alone was worth the price of the rental.

Aside from other loathsome creatures who have been praying for a glimpse of Winona's... um... talents, I fear the only folks who will enjoy this flick are Philip K. Dick fans and animation fans. (Which means it was custom made for me!)

It was true to the original story.

The graphics were better than promised.

The acting and the... um... talents lived up to the hype.

Keanu indeed knows kung fu.

Another Year

Robert (Cindy's Dad) and Granny Pam came over today, for dinner.

I ate at least five servings of Cindy collard greens that Cindy fixed. They were absolutely  the best ones she's ever made. We're talking restaraunt quality stuff here.

And a very merry Happy Birthday to my Grandfather. 87 today. Sill kicking like Bruce Lee. Should have shared some collards with him!

The Bone Doctor

After many years away, I've returned to a chiropractor. My neck and shoulder have been torturing me for weeks. I have trouble sleeping. I have trouble sitting in one position for too long. I have trouble at times in Pilate's. And recently I've been getting these searing hot flashes in my lower back.

So I made an appointment and visited Doctor Jeremy Goulet
Jeremy (the young man in the white shirt, I don't the smiling kid on the left!) is the son of Gary Goulet, who has been known my father since they were in college, and he's adjusted them a few times a year for nearly two decades. So I called Jeremy and told him I was looking for an old school chiropractor. One who likes to get in there and move some bones. One I don't want is somebody who is going to hook me up to a car battery and try to jolt my muscles into regaining their old physique.

After our initial consultation, he brought out the xrays and gave me not one, but two surprises. First, my lower spine, which used to have a severe curve in the lumber region (including a pinched nerve between L4 and L5) is in great shape. There's no sign I ever had any problems. He couldn't tell I spent the better part of three years getting a severe case of Scolliosis corrected. He didn't see any reason the doctors wanted to put titanium rods along my spine. It looked great. The second surprise wasn't as welcomed. My neck is definitely started to deform.

We should have seen a nice curve, like this: )

Instead, we saw a sharp angle, almost like this: >

And it is that ever collapsing angle that is impacting my neck and shoulder. My years of doing yoga in Atlanta, GA, likely corrected my lumbar region, and my workouts the past year have keep it in good shape.

So he gave me an adjustment and lit up my day. I immediately felt the difference as I was walking out of the office. My head felt lighter. The muscles in my right shoulder weren't pulling up to my ear. My right hip was coming forward. I also arced to my left, because my right side felt so much lighter and more relaxed.

I'll certainly be seeing more of the bone doctor!

Tricked and untreated

Yesterday started off with a twist. Most of it in my stomach! I'm not sure what hit me or why, but as I'm driving to work in the morning, god reached down and decided to put me and my car inside an invisible washing machine and kick up the spin cycle. Within the course of a mile, I was nauseous, dizzy, and damn near blind as I struggle to a) figure out what is going on, b) what I'm going to do, c) how can I stay on the road without killing myself or a bus load of nuns. Fortunately god took pity on me in between his obvious chuckles and guided me home safely. All the way, my hands were gripped to steering wheel to the point of my knuckles turning white and my palms slick with sweat, I kept ramming my tongue against the roof of my mouth to keep from passing out, and I was panting like an eighty year old hound dog in the middle of August.

Cindy had made it home from dropping off Meg and was opening the door to see what I'd forgotten. Then she saw my face, and the way I was struggling to stay on my feet, while simultaneously keeping my hand over my mouth to hold down the surprise visitor and using the other hand to frantically open my dress shirt. Something clued her into the fact that she needed to get out of the way and I quickly staggered to the bathroom for an intimate conversation with the commode. Between heaves, I stripped down to the bare essentials. Finally ended up on the top of our bed, nearly delirious and telling my beloved not to call 911, I'd be okay if she just left me alone for a minute.

Three hours and several almost unremembered trips to the bathroom later, I woke up on the comforter, drenched in sweat, and mumbling for Cindy to call work to let them know I was alive, but not by the scientific measure of the word. And then I left the realm of the waking for another hour.

That was yesterday. And Halloween was little more than me sitting by the front door with my head in my hands, shuffling to bring a plastic pumpkin full of treats to the nearly three dozen goblins and ghouls who somehow knew to knock as loudly as possible and to scream their demands for candy at the top of their lungs. How my brain managed not to rupture from the onslaught, I may never know.