You Decide

Separated at birth?




Creepy Minneapolis meteorologist and inspired storyteller Paul Douglas.







Creepy pedophile and inspired storyteller John Karr.

20 Years

20th high school reunion tomorrow. It's no big deal really, as I wasn't much a fan of high school.

I played sports, but didn't fit into the jock crowd. I took accelerated classes, but didn't excel academically. School politics weren't my thing either - I never liked meetings, or for that matter, people.

A crew I kind of melded into was a group of underachievers who really didn't give a shit what anyone else thought of them. They weren't bad dudes by today's standards - just an impassive bunch who smoked clove cigarettes and drank Pfeiffer while playing cribbage on Friday nights.

One of them ran for Class President our junior or senior year as the lone member of the Apathy Party. He gave his speech in a black trench coat and concluded by announcing that he could promise that things would be better under his administration, but wouldn't because he just didn't care. The audience, of course, erupted in wild applause. A flustered school administrator begged us to take the election seriously.

Most attendees will probably be the pink polo and Girbaud jeans folks who drove Daddy's Saab, but you never know.

One thing I do know is that it's been 20 years since graduation. Thank God.

The Urban Sprawl Fen-tasy

Back from vacation.

Every year, Pretty, BENRY & I load up the Family Truckster & head somewhere on a summer road trip. I'm always amazed at just how much land this country is blessed with. Manifest Destiny, indeed.

Within 30 minutes of leaving suburban Minneapolis, you find yourself in what feels like the middle of nowhere, regardless the direction you venture. It makes you realize that the enlightened "Smart Growth" crowd is, ahem, misguided.

My in-laws, whom we see regularly, are Social Justice types who subscribe to this "Don't believe your eyes, believe us" worldview. At a dinner earlier this year, my sister in-law proclaimed while lamenting Urban Sprawl, "I think it should be illegal to cut down trees".

After noting their sprawling (ha ha) wood house carved out of an acre of woods in a prestigious wooded lakeside suburb, I quietly excused myself from the wooden table, grabbed a cold beer and went outside to play with the kids on the playset. Made of wood, of course. (Hiding behind children during war isn't always reprehensible...)

Here's a map and some statistics from the State of Minnesota that may help if you truly believe we're being overrun by strip malls and McMansions. Only 2.7% of Minnesota is developed. By comparison, 10.6% is home to "bog/marsh/fen".

"Fen"?

Idiot!

Every year growing up, my mother hid a certain mid-February edition of Sports Illustrated from me. Nevertheless, a copy somehow always found its way into my hands.

So what could possibly have driven me to repeatedly deceive the woman who gave me life?

Her. Today I learned that her husband cheated on her with his 18 year-old employee. As Napoleon would say, "IDIOT!"

And not surprisingly, it looks as though this lout's political decisions are as clear-headed as his personal ones.

Do as I say...

Saturday's Star-Tribune features a bootlicking article on Mike Erlandson, former Minnesota state Democratic party chairman who has thrown his hat in the ring to replace retiring 48-term congressman Martin Sabo.

The write-up is headlined "Environment tops Erlandson Campaign". In it, Erlandson claims that he had "an environmental epiphany" early in his political career that motivated him to establish a "bicycle division" within Minnesota's Department of Transportation. (???)

"If we don't address global warming and climate change, all the other issues aren't going to mean a lot 10 years from now," Erlandson said at a Minneapolis news conference.

The article then lists the other contenders in the race just before this too-good-for-commentary tidbit:

"Erlandson said he intends to get rid of his Cadillac Escalade because of environmental concerns and the cost of filling the tank."

Heh.

Environ-Mentals Sport Wood(y)

Today it was reported that a federal judge suspended a $320 million Arkansas irrigation project because of the discovery of an ivory-billed woodpecker. The bird was widely believed to be extinct, and its 're-discovery' was wildly celebrated in the environmental community.

In his ruling, District Judge William R. Wilson stated, "When an endangered species is allegedly jeopardized (emphasis mine), the balance of hardships and public interest tips in favor of the protected species. Here there is evidence" that this particular bird might be imperiled.

Great news, right? I mean, even the staunchest pollutant-spewing, wetland-draining, tree-cutting industrialist should rejoice that Goddess Gaia has resurrected one of her precious creatures. Like, life is an interwoven tapestry and every organism needs each other to survive, right?

Sure. I might be inclined, in light of this ecological miracle, to become a believer in all things ECO (again), if not for one pesky detail: It can't be proven that anyone has actually seen the bird.

Apparently, in 2004 a kayaker claimed that he saw Woody while paddling through Big Woods in Arkansas. Word quickly spread through the tree-hugger brotherhood and rewards were offered to anyone who could provide proof that this cherished bird, which we seem to have done just fine without for over 60 years, existed. Ridiculously enough, the wackos even threw parties:And despite all of these efforts, the only evidence that the bird actually exists is six claims of sightings and a "blurred and pixilated" video, no doubt presented by casually objective weekend bird-watching hobbyists.

Such meager proof couldn't possibly derail a major federal irrigation project designed to bring water to the rural south, could it?

Apparently it can. This, my friends, is a great example of how the modern environmental movement works to stop progress in its tracks. So the next time a construction project is really twisting your titties, sneak a peek at one of these lists and call your fave environmental NGO.

And generations from now, when our descendants return to their mud huts after a hard day of hunting once-endangered woodpeckers and rats while fighting off once-endangered wolves and bears, they may recall stories about indoor plumbing and grocery stores and rue the days when their ancestors accepted this lunacy.

A Still Life with Woodpecker, indeed. But at least they'll feel good about themselves, right?

My New Dependent

My family is small. Very small. In fact, I am the only person I know of, outside of my twin sister, who does not have a single first cousin.

I have two uncles - my mom's brother is married and has no children. The other, my dad's brother, is Gruncle.

Gruncle, as BENRY calls him, is short for Great Uncle. He's a character study - an extraordinarily intelligent man who designed submarines for 30+ years on the east coast and never found anyone smart enough with whom to discuss nuclear fusion (or is it fission?) and philately. So he never married.

You'd think that a man of such high profile who was never encumbered by wives, second wives, kids, stepkids or deadbeat half-brothers of any of the above just may have stockpiled some pretty cool stuff as he journeyed through life. You'd be wrong.

Gruncle is one American who didn't simply ignore George Bush's "Ownership Society", he utterly renounced it. He has rented the same bottom floor of a duplex for over 30 years. He has never owned a car. He doesn't buy food for his refrigerator. For all I know, he leases his clothes. And no, he does not live in a major city where you have to sell your organs to make rent.

What Gruncle does do is collect stamps and travel - not to Thailand like most single, middle-aged men in his situation, but to Minnesota to visit his tiny family on holidays and BENRY's birthdays.

During Gruncle's most recent visit, he said to me as I was leaving for work, "Keep bringing in those bucks! I'm beginning to draw Social Security and need you out there." We had a good laugh about it, but as I drove to work I considered how much loot a guy could accumulate over the years with no wife, kids, car or mortgage, nor any hooker, drug or gambling addictions to feed. I figured it was right around a trillion dollars.

Now if someone with a trillion dollars is counting on me to support him, I concluded that maybe, just maybe, this country is in for a rude awakening in 20 years.

Think I'll go have a beer.

Blimey! Limeys to charge $50/day SUV Fee

How long until the Greenies in Minneapolis try to pull this crap?


From the American Thinker:

London mayor Ken Livingstone announced yesterday that the £8-a-day congestion charge will be raised to £25 for SUVs. In other words, if you own an SUV you will have to pay almost 50 dollars for the privilege of driving through central London.

Livingstone said that the charge will be

‘a painful regime that discourages people from driving cars that produce more than the average carbon emissions.’

Staggering is not only the amount, but also the rationale behind the scheme. The original stated intention of the congestion charge was to reduce the number of vehicles in central London, but now it is to be used for a different purpose entirely: To pursue devious environmental agendas of ultra-leftist politicians.

Ken Livingstone – aka Ken the Red – is a leftist in the finest European tradition who has called SUV owners ‘idiots.’ He said that he was making his announcement early to discourage people from thinking about acquiring one:

‘Many families in London may be considering purchasing a new car over the next two or three months. I would want them to know the long-term thinking as they can factor that in.’

Livingstone is already promising that if the scheme proves ‘successful,’ he will introduce a citywide charge for SUVs in the next few years. All this from a man who in November of 1999 told the Sunday Times:

“I hate cars. If I ever get any powers again I’d ban the lot.”

It bears keeping in mind that it all started as a £5 charge for a relatively small area. A couple of years later the boundaries of the chargeable zone are going to be dramatically expanded and the charge will be five times the original amount for certain vehicles. And they are plotting further schemes in the years ahead. You give leftists an opening and they will never stop. Never believe when they tell you in the beginning that it is only a small levy that will only apply to a small number of people. This is how they always start and before we know it they fleece us numb.

The Greens throughout the London government are naturally delighted. Jenny Jones, a Green assemblywoman, said:

‘I am absolutely thrilled. It is only fair that people who choose to drive big, gas-guzzling cars pay more and people who drive a low polluting vehicles should pay less.’

Darren Johnson, leader of the Greens on the London Assembly added:

‘I have been pushing for this change since the congestion charge came into force. It is good to see Ken making the polluter pay.’

It is painful to think that the whole racket is based on the spurious and unproven premise that human activity affects global temperature. But this is the essence of the leftist modus operandi – using bogus claims to deprive people of their money, freedom and choices. And we just keep falling for it (and paying too).

[The quotes are taken from an article in the print edition of the Evening Standard which has not appeared online.]

Vasko Kohlmayer 7 13 06

Human relations puzzler of the day

There's probably a better way to put this, but here goes:

Is an insult truly an insult if what was taken as an insult a purely unintentional act?

TV in the Bedroom

Pretty and I don't have satellite service on our bedroom tv like we do through the rest of the house. It was one stipulation that I made a few years ago when I acquiesced to a television in our room at all.

My reasoning was not high-minded nor complex. I simply did not want my bed to become like Ned's in "One Fish Two Fish":

"...I do not like
this bed at all.
A lot of things
have come to call.
A cow, a dog, a cat a mouse.
Oh! What a bed! Oh! What a house!"

i.e. If our bedroom tv were SpongeBob-ready, I'd end up like my poor friend Eric.

For the first year, this arrangement worked great - "NewsRadio" was newly-syndicated and Phil Hartman's Bill McNeal was the funniest character since Ted Baxter in the early years of MTM. But as endless episodes of "Frasier" and "Raymond" began polluting the tube, I gravitated back to (gasp!) reading.

Recently, I stumbled upon a new (to me) BBC sitcom called "Keeping up Appearances" on PBS. British comedy has always been one of two compelling reasons to keep government tv. (That hippie painter who talked like he was luring a 6 year-old into his cargo van being the other.)

I'm hooked. Here are Hyacinth Bucket ("Bouquet, spelled B-U-C-K-E-T. Bouquet.") and Onslow, her brother-in-law, a limey Homer Simpson. My two favorite characters.

Give it a shot - 10:00. Oops - 9:58. Gotta go!

Hand-Wringer of the Day

The "Letter of the Day", courtesy of today's Star-Tribune:

I've heard it said that NASA is a gigantic welfare program for engineers, and I tend to agree.

While the pursuit of knowledge is always a worthy objective, I'm one of the people who can't think of one thing in the universe we'll discover that will do us any earthly good in the foreseeable future.

We have enough major challenges to address here on the ground, like developing clean energy sources and reversing global warming.

But hold the layoffs. Let's keep all those scientists gainfully employed by simply "repurposing" their brainpower and NASA's humongous budget to solve the most lethal and far-reaching problems we face today.

Space will be there for a long time. Our beautiful planet won't.

THOMAS MCNulty, Eden Prairie

Just exactly where is Earth going, Thomas... Planet Heaven? Is she planning to escape the heat by going to hang with Neptune for awhile?

Thomas needs something to take his mind off of NASA's bloated budget and our supposed looming global incineration. Maybe I'll send him one of #2's dinosaur books and an "Ice Age 2 The Meltdown" DVD to assuage his dread about Ma Earth's propensity to warm up or cool off occasionally.

Happy Birthweek

#1 turns 9 years old next week. (NINE YEARS?!?! Holy crap!)

I just received an email from my dad - he's going to be out of town for the kid's actual birthday and wants to know if we could hold an additional party the day after.

Why the hell not? As far as I can tell, we're already having five parties commemmorating this earth-shaking event. One for school friends, one for neighborhood friends (guess those two groups don't mix well in social settings), one for my family, one for Pretty's family (I know those two groups don't mix well in social settings)and finally one for any stragglers who just like to party - the guys who painted our house last summer, for instance.

I understand "Wild On" caught wind of this impending bender and plans to send a video crew to follow us around for the week.

OK; maybe I exaggerate. But when did observing a kid's birthday become the freakin' Rose Bowl? I pondered this question last night and after hours of exhaustive research, I pinpointed the genesis of this phenomenon:

Anti-Social Studies?

If you read right-leaning blogs, you're most likely aware of parents' complaints concerning the deranged classroom rants of commie school teachers like the "Geography" instructor Jay Bennish in Colorado.

Pretty & I send BENRY to a Catholic school, but it's for reasons other than the supposed leftie indoctrination the public schools offer. In fact, as a product of the very school district in which we currently reside, I'm convinced that my boys would do wonderfully in this system and will eventually attend high school where I did. (As long as the district stops herding kids into Special Ed programs to secure additional funding, but that's a subject for another post.)

I find it interesting that the primary segments of productive society in which one finds bona fide moonbats are Education and Law (and in a particular personal instance, Educational Law). I honestly don't know why it is, but it is very rare that I run across a Production Manager, a Sales Rep, a dock worker or heaven forbid a small business owner who has adopted the strident "corporate imperialist Bushitler Haliburton Rove cabal" mindset. They could, of course, keep their beliefs to themselves, but I visit hundreds of people a year on sales calls and have yet to hear Air America on a single radio.

But I digress. What motivated me to post today was learning that my 7th grade Social Studies teacher, Roger Cuthbertson, was recently arrested while protesting at a fundraiser featuring Dick Cheney. The event was held at a lakeside estate - the protesters were on a pontoon in the bay, shouting anti-Cheney slogans. Mr. Cuthbertson then boarded a smaller boat with his hippie friend and (according to the Star-Tribune):

"...tried to paddle the raft to shore so they could speak with Cheney. A sheriff's boat intercepted the men, but not before Cuthbertson jumped into the bay and tried to swim toward the reception."

Hilarious. Sneak a peek at this photo of Mr. Cuthbertson (he's the bearded guy in the blue jacket), cropped from another Strib article about a weekly peacenik party held outside a prominent local defense contractor. I remember him as a disheveled, long-haired dude who wore plaid shirts and his Levi's well below his hips long before "jailing" was in. In his class, I recall listening to Garrison Keilor, performing a mock trial and watching him furiously scrawl a detailed chalkboard sketch of how the atomic bomb worked. Nothing unreasonable.

Who knows? He may have thrown hysterical tantrums about Pershing missiles in Europe and "Evil Empire" speeches... I just don't remember them. But if he did, his rhetoric certainly didn't affect me as he'd hope it would.

My point (if I have one): Schools should certainly do their best to evenly portray all sides of any issue, but maybe we should all lighten up a bit. Kids will eventually find their own ways in the world, regardless the crap any strangers try to fill their heads with.

A Meek Return

Yes, it's been awhile. Family events, a funeral and a reunion, have kept me away.

My grandmother passed on last month. She was 95. Growing up, I always looked forward to the end of my long baseball season when my family would pack up and drive to western Montana, where we would spend weeks with my grandparents splashing in a cold mountain lake, fishing mountain rivers and generally enjoying a taste of Mountain Life.

I remember the giant zucchinis she grew in her garden, picking raspberries at the house and huckleberries in Glacier Park, long, slow walks through pine forests with her pointing out Indian Paintbrush and Oregon Berries, endlessly jumping off rocks and docks into that aquamarine lake under her watchful eye, browned butter (it's the Polish way, she would say) poured over fresh green beans and that huckleberry pie which no earthly words could describe.

But what I will take to my grave is the way she always, regardless of how badly I felt I was screwing up my life at any given time, made me feel like the most important person in the world. Without fail.

I miss you, Grandma.