Wally

While looking for people to follow on Twitter, (incidentally, you can find and follow me by clicking here) I found found one person whom I am quite fond of - Steve Martin.

As of 12/26/12, a visit to his Twitter page will provide this as his profile picture.

The subtleties of this picture are great. Why is he on the floor? What was in the glass - was he poisoned?

However, the one thing which caught my eye was his dog, Wally.

There is Wally, lounging curiously in the background, wondering what his master is up to. Maybe he is thinking, "My master is on the floor. I wonder why he is on the floor. I don't know why he is on the floor. It's okay - he is my master."

One look at Steve Martin and immediately many think of movies like The Jerk, or L.A. Story. Others may think of a time they may have seen him perform standup or play the banjo (or both, as he is prone to do). We may think, "Wow, what a talented gentleman." Wally just looks at him and sees his master. He knows nothing of his career or fame.

Pets are awesome like that. They are good at loving you, unconditionally, simply for who you are.

My cat knows nothing of my career or of the massive amount of internet fame I have (scoff). He does know that he gets treats every morning when I make my coffee. He does know that, as soon as my feet go up when I sit in the recliner, my lap provides an excellent place to lay down.

I don't know who all frequents the Martin home, but let us pretend for a moment that Steve hosts a part and invites many of movie, music, and TV's "who's who". Wally would undoubtedly great them with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Same would be true for me if I were privileged to be invited. I'm no one special out of that group, but Wally would treat me just the same as everyone else.

How lucky am I to be placed on a level playing field with the likes of entertainment royalty by a creature who displays unconditional trust and love after a few pats on the head or a belly rub?

Coincidentally, that's how you can get me to be your friend, too. 

My dear friend, Kevin Pollak.

For the past few weeks I've had the pleasure of riding to and from work every day in the company of comedian, actor, and interwebs star Mr. Kevin Pollak.

Every day on my hour long trip, Kevin would entertain me with stories of his growing up as a child. From lip syncing Bill Cosby's "Noah and the Arc" act for relatives to what it was like working with stars such as Robert De Niro, Bruce Willis, Walter Matthau, Jack Lemmon, Burgess Meredith. . .the list goes on and on.

Do I work in Hollywood, you ask? No.

Well then, I must have some job related to the movie industry. Wrong again.

I spent $14.99 and purchased an audio copy of How I Slept My Way to the Middle: Secrets and Stories from Stage, Screen, and Interwebs.

The book, read by Mr. Pollak, is very entertaining. I began to look forward to my drive to work each morning when I would get to listen to Kevin do impersonations and tell stories; laughing hysterically while listening him, while doing Walter Matthau, talk about a cassette tape which was Walter's most prized possession. I'm sure I looked insane to other drives who had the misfortune of driving up next to me.

One day, while entering randomness into YouTube, I stumbled across a video of Jay Mohr doing an interview. During the interview it was brought up that he, like Kevin, does an excellent Christopher Walken. Admittedly, he does. But then the interviewer brings up that he tells everyone that Mohr's is better than Kevin's. Mohr agrees and even goes so far as to say, "Kevin Pollak will tell you I do the best."

WHAT?!

I thought, "How dare you compare yourself to my friend, you little twerp! What's the last movie you were in that did any good at the box office?"

Incidentally, the last movie that he was in that was big at the box office was Jerry McGuire. I know - I don't remember him being in that movie either.

But, as you probably noticed, an odd thing happened. After having had listen to Kevin Pollak read chapter after chapter of his book whilst in the privacy of my vehicle on my way to work, I felt like he was my friend. I thought maybe sometime he might call me and invite me over to his place for dinner. After we would drink a few drinks, smoke some cigars, and he could share with me why it is so fantastic to be in the middle. I'd tell him stories about my life and he would reminisce about how much it sucked to be poor. I could feel a real bond of friendship forming.

Then it came. The end of the book. And, as with any good book, I felt like I had lost of a good friend as Kevin read the final words of the last chapter. Our two hour a day, two week friendship was gone.

I look back fondly on those days. I don't know what he's doing now (other than a webcast, producing and acting on stage and on the big screen, and countless other projects) but, where ever he is. . .I wish him well.

Take care, Kevin. And, if you're ever in town, give me a call. I'd love to catch up again sometime.

AUTHORS NOTE: It's now May 9th, 2013. I've seen Jerry McGuire since writing this and now remember Jay being in the movie. He played, what else...a weasel of a character.

I'm also watched Jay's Christopher Walken...and, damn it, if it isn't brilliant. That magnificent bastard!

Kevin has also mentioned Jay as being an inspiration for his Christopher Walken in his book. Still, after spending so much time riding to, and from, work together...I'm partial to Kevin's take on Mr. Walken. Maybe if Jay has the opportunity to ride with me in the future, and pays for the gas, I may be persuaded to think otherwise.

Relax! It's only porn!

What's the first thing you think of when you hear the word porn? Hot 3-way action? Mexican donkey show? Midgets?

Regardless of what you think, chances are it has something to do with sex.

Does real estate come to mind? No? Google 'real estate porn' and Google will eagerly return with more than ninety-million results.

Oh, baby...you look so wet!

Then there is shoe porn. Ladies...don't lie. I know some of you have drooled over a pair of Jimmy Choo's and visit his website regularly.



Mmmm...daddy likes leather.

 I can already hear the claims. "But that's not real pornography - that's not hurting anyone."

Or is it?

We, as a culture, have been so inundated with sex through advertising and TV shows and movies that we've begun to accept and use the word as a part of our vernacular. A short time ago the use of the word in the workplace would be enough to land you in court with a sexual harassment case filed against you. While it can still happen today, attaching the word 'porn' to something like 'shoe' or 'property' or 'electrionic' makes it nothing more than idle chit-chat at the water cooler.

An interesting read is Pornified: How Pornography Is Transforming Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families. It talks about how porn has shaped, not only our way of thinking about sex, but also our everyday lives. While some of the author's claims are rubbish, there are some interesting points which she brings up which could be used as conversation starters.

Maybe not a conversation with your pastor or mother-in-law, but hey - who am I to assume?!

Readers - what are your thoughts? Porn, in the sexual sense: Good? Bad? Has it changed the way we think about sex? Using the word in conjunction with other terms: acceptable?

I'll be awaiting your responses. In the meantime, I'll be looking at porn.

No. Real porn. You know...the kind with the playgroud merry-go-round, power tools, and...

...ummm, maybe I've said too much.

It's Called "News"

As I was reading some "news" articles on the Internet, I (as often times happens) let my mind wander. Eventually it came back to the task at hand. As it did I began to realize the horrible abuse of the English language the writer of this particular article had committed against humanity.

"Don't they have an editor there?!" my mind screamed in anguish.

"This drivel passes for acceptable writing?" I say out loud.

What might be even more amazing is the fact that most, if not all, of these writers posses a degree from a four year university.

If this is the mark of a successful education, it's no wonder our world is in the shitter.

Please share with my readers and visitors what you feel the greatest atrocity against journalism has been. Heck, let us know about your disappointment in the education system.

Speaking of the education system, "the class of 2012 scored the lowest average SAT reading score since 1972. A bit of good news is that math scores were up." Source NPR News.

Amid Chaos, There Are Still Rules

A couple of weeks ago I attended the Rockstar Mayhem Fest. While there I got to see bands like The Devil Wears Prada, Anthrax, As I Lay Dying, Motorhead, Slayer, and the headliner of the show, Slipknot.

This is NOT your grandfather's metal!

The venue in which this event was being held is an outdoor one so, once you have entered the main gates, there is still a distance one must walk before getting to the main stage. Along the way I spotted several people which, I can only assume, were once participants of a mosh pit. Bloodied faces, EMTs rushing by with people in wheelchairs. Jesus Christ! What kind of fucking mess did I get myself into!?

I make my way to a side stage and watch The Devil Wears Prada and Anthrax, whereupon I see several more people limping, staggering, and crawling out of the main crowd. Plastic glasses filled with beer (hopefully) or piss (probably) are being thrown into the air into the midst of the crowd. It was obvious that this was no place for someone with a heart condition.

The melee ends and everyone begins to make their way over to the main stage area. My "seat" was on the lawn. I use the term seat loosely as only someone who had a death wish or no sense of self preservation would be sitting during this concert. Practically 200 yards of lawn becomes a most pit by the end of the night.

Me to co-worker: "How was your weekend?"
Co-worker to me: "Good. Just relaxed around the house. You?"
Me to co-worker: "Oh, I was in a mosh pit. Usual weekend."

Yours truly was lucky enough to be by/near/in/around/part of one. So many slashes...but with the shifting of the crowd it was hard to tell where you would be from one minute to the next.

It was then, being the sociologist that I am, began to notice something happening in what appeared to be chaos. There are rules when you're involved in a mosh pit and you are expected to know and observe these rules when you are by/near/in/around/part of one. You can even Google "moshpit rules" and you'll find several posts listing various rules.

One that you'll find posted on most every list of rules is that you help up those who are knocked down. Things happen...it's organized chaos. People are going to fall. If you spot someone, you are expected to help them up. If you're along the perimeter of the pit you are expected to help up those who are pushed to the edge. You're also partiality responsible for protecting those who are outside of the pit.

Observe Rule #1

Usually the wikiHow pages are filled with useless shit, but the one about How to Mosh in a Mosh Pit is actually pretty decent. Check it out and tell me what you think.

Finally - if you've NEVER heard Slipknot before...here is a video, thanks to my sister, from the concert I attended. Enjoy!

Who is TMF? - Part II

Amazingly enough, the first "Who is" blog that I wrote is the most read post of any of my postings. In fact, its numbers are just about double that of any of the hits on my other posts.

With the thought in mind that a). you all want to know about me, or b). you all want to know more about me in order to stalk me, I thought that I'd write a second part and take my chances. So...

• I am a gamer.

In the first "Who is" post I told you all that I play video games on both the PC and Xbox 360. I also own several other platforms (PS2, Wii, and some older ones like Dreamcast and Genesis) but I prefer to play games on my computer.

I am also a role player.

(insert nerd joke here)

I've played Dungeons and Dragons, Shadow Run, GURPS, Twilight 2000, and many, many others. I have a group of friends with whom I have role played with for years. Currently I am playing a D&D 4e campaign using a virtual tabletop. What this means is that a group of us plays online using a whiteboard of sorts. It is complete with miniatures and dice for rolling. The leader (or GM/DM) actually lives about 10 minutes from me, but the others all live about 2 hours away from us. The virtual table top enables us to all get together and play and have a great time. Isn't technology great?

This is why you tell her AFTER you're married - like I did.

One thing I will not do, however, is LARP (Live Action Role Play). That just crosses over the nerd line, even for me.

• I am a drummer.

I play the drums and have for 20 years. During high school I was in a band with two of my closest friends and we enjoyed moderate area popularity. When it came time for the other two to graduate (as they were a year ahead of me in school) a couple of opportunities presented themselves. 

First, we were offered a reasonable amount of money to play at a wedding. The bass player turned it down with the reasoning that we weren't good enough to play for four or five hours as the main entertainment for a wedding reception. Never mind that we had played in a couple of talent shows, as well as a private concert for our school on the last day before winter break...we just weren't wedding material.

And, honestly, it probably would have ended up a lot like this...only without Billy Idol.

Second, one of my aunt's childhood friends worked out of St. Louis, MO with a recording label. She had rubbed elbows with some of the most popular names in music at that time. One thing lead to another and I eventually played her a recording of us playing a couple of Led Zeppelin songs (Immigrant Song and Rock and Roll, for you Zeppelin fans). She said that if we made her a demo tape of some covers and some original material that she would make sure it got into the hands of the right people. I presented this to the other two and, while they liked the sounds of it, they were more concerned with going off to university and getting their respective degrees. We never recorded that demo and I've never played with another band since then.

So, in an alternate universe, you are all listening to me and my band on your iPod at this very second. Trust me...you have all our albums. We're good.

• I am an ordained minister.

I guess that means you could call me Rev. Misanthropic Father. Or maybe Father Misanthropic.

Alright...I'll admit that, although I am ordained, it is through the Universal Life Church in Modesto, California. Why should that matter? Well, back in the early 2000's they started an on-line ministry. Part of this ministry included ordaining ministers over the internet. Sound like a farce? I assure you, this is 100% legit and legal in every way. I have attended weddings performed by ULC ministers and those couples are just as married as they would have been had a Justice of the Peace performed the wedding in a court house.

They have some other materials which you can purchase through their website to help you through the course of your ministry. I mean, who wouldn't want a Doctor of Divinity degree for only $32.99?

If you're interested in becoming an ordained minister yourself, please check out their page here.

This page will also allow you to become ordained...plus is includes a video of Conan O'Brien going through the process.

Yes. Rev. Conan O'Brien.

You Bunch of Fucking Idiots!

I'm partially religious. I'm partially political.

I'm VERY opinionated.

This post has nothing to do with my viewpoints of either, although they are related to both.

First up, the following disclaimer:
If you are a part of, or a supporter of, Fred Phelps or the Westboro Baptist Church...you can just fuck right off. Don't become a fan of my Facebook page. Don't post your comments on this page. I will straight up delete your shit and block your ass.

Give me strength, oh Lord!

I'm a supporter of the First Amendment. For those of you who slept through government class, this is the amendment which gives me the freedom to call the members of this church fucking idiots. It also gives me the right to stand outside of their church with signs stating that they are fucking idiots (so long as I do so peacefully and I am not trespassing on their private property). It also gives me the right to write this blog to communicate to you all that they are fucking idiots.

Could someone please tell me how this is constructive, or even Christian (Christ-like)?

Westboro drones. 

This just pisses me off. These kids have been indoctrinated with the verbal diarrhea which Fred Phelps and his minions continue to peddle to anyone willing to listen. Do these kids even know what they're doing out there? I doubt the youngest one holding the shuttle sign has parents old enough to remember the Challenger disaster. Who is willing to place bets on their parent's combined IQ score? I feel sorry for these children.

The Washington Post reported that as many as 92% of Americans believe in God or a higher spirit. Sadly, that number probably includes the douche nozzles at Westboro - but for the rest of the Americans who didn't eat lead paint chips as a child, my guess is that WBC insults the intelligence of every other God-fearing church goer or patriotic American that hears about their antics.

I find it interesting that Fred Phelps has continued to live. I mean, really. He has protested countless numbers of fallen military funerals, picketed university commencement ceremonies, protested mainstream Christian rock concerts, and probably most despicable, runs a website with a "news" ticker that counts the number of people that God has cast into Hell since you (the visitor) loaded the webpage. 170 was the count in the 30 or so seconds I was there. And, perhaps most laughable, is the last section of "news" on said ticker:

"0 - nanoseconds of sleep that WBC members lose over your opinions and feeeeellllliiiiiings."

I make no illusions that I am not a reputable reporter of news. I do not attempt to obfuscate that my opinions will make their way, repeatedly, into the things which are posted. However, if I were attempting to run a website (especially a church where, as with any church, it's continuation of existence relies on the recruiting of new members) I would not post such childish things on my site. Perhaps Fred Phelps had his 4th grade grandson write the news or something. Why else would such a thing appear?

I am rubber, you are glue...

Just look at that creepy fucker. He looks like the bastard child of Jack Palance and the Crypt Keeper.

It is worth mentioning that most of the church population of WBC are direct family members of Rev. Palan...er, Fred Phelps. One of the man's sons, who presumably was not dropped on his head at birth, is opposed to his father's work and urges the residents of Topeka, KS to continue fighting. At least someone in that family has some sense.

But, while I do not agree with what they have to say, I will fight for their right to say it (See First Amendment). For if that right vanishes then so do people like me.

That being said, I do believe in Hell, and I do believe that Fred Phelps is going to end up there because of the things he has done. I just hope that when he gets there that it looks like this...

Wow...it's SO HOT!

Who is TMF? - Part I

As much as I'd love to write a weekly, or even daily, blog...I just don't have the time for that right now. I'm too busy doing things for myself. I'm a greedy bastard like that.

This got me to thinking - unless you are a personal friend of mine (and I think there are only 4 or 5 on the FB fan page who are) you all know very little about me and what makes TMF tick. So, for today's blog, I thought I'd give you a little insight to my personality. Some likes. Some interests. Just enough to make you want to hang out with me because I sound like a cool guy...but not so much as to you'll get to see what I'm really like and realize I'm really a major, psychotic, fucking asshole.

• I like cigars.

Unless you are Helen Keller, you see my avatar and the cigar hanging out of it's mouth. This was not done for effect or aesthetics. This was done because I truly enjoy a cigar every now and again. My favorite maker is Rocky Patel; my favorite stick of his is a Rocky Patel Vintage 1990. If you're ever in search for a birthday gift for me, you'll NEVER go wrong with Rocky Patel or with that particular cigar.

• I like beer.

I enjoy a good, cold, beer on a hot summer day...or a cold winter day...or any day in between. Typically I'll drink Miller Lite or Busch Lite, but my favorite is Lucky Lager.

Yum!

I have a friend in Canada who will visit now and again, and he always remembers to bring a case of Lucky with him as I have yet to find anyone, anywhere, within the state that sells or can get it. Again...birthday gifts.

• I like to cook.

I enjoy cooking. I enjoy grilling. I can bake (and decorate) a cake even. I also have done chocolatier work. I am a handy gentleman to have around.

• Movies, Music, Video games.

You know those people who can quote to you an entire film after having seen the movie only once? You know those people who know song titles, band names, and various trivia about them all? Yeah...I'm that guy.

My favorite movie? I don't have one. There are too many good films out there so when I name one it reminds me of another, which reminds me of another, and it becomes a mobius strip of sorts.

My favorite band? That's easier to give. Led Zeppelin.

Bitch better recognize!

As far as video games go, I've been playing for years. I usually only play PC (computer) based games online with friends, but because of a particular set of circumstances I've been forced to play more on my 360. I love the Rock Band games. Here, where I would usually make another birthday reference, I'll just tell you not to bother. I've already got them all.

• I drive a Jeep

When you drive a Jeep you enter into a special club. If you drive one then you know what I mean. If you don't then those stickers you see on Jeeps are 100% true. It's a Jeep thing...you wouldn't understand.

I love my Jeep. My favorite thing is driving with the doors off and the top down just as the sun is setting. Driving through shaded parts of the road and feeling the temperature changes and smelling the evening air. There just isn't anything else that compares to it.

Some Jeep drivers like to test reader response. I prefer to keep 4 wheels on the ground.

So...this is just a glimpse into who I am. There is more I'd like to write about this; letting you all know a little bit more about me. I suppose that I'll do a "Part II" post sometime in the future. Because who doesn't enjoy writing about themselves?

And who doesn't enjoy reading about me?

Humor is Relative

I like to think that I have a good sense of humor and I believe that humor is relative.

No, I don't mean it is something that is inherited. I believe that what is funny to one person is not to another. I came to that conclusion a long time ago when I was a child, but tonight I thought I'd try a little experiment.

I forced myself to watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory. I haven't talked about it before, but I think this show is one of the the biggest waste of 30 minutes on television. The promos for the show have never made me crack a smile. The times where I have accidentally stopped on the show for more than 15 seconds I never thought were witty, clever, or intelligent.

I thought I'd give the show the benefit of the doubt and see why some of my friends, my little sister included think this show is the best thing that's ever aired on television. I sat through the entire show and never cracked a smile once. I did find one comment amusing, but that was the extent of my entertainment. I concluded that, I was still correct, and this show just robbed me of 30 precious minutes of my life which could be spent watching something more entertaining...like watching flies fuck. I entered into the show thinking it was a steaming pile of horse shit. I didn't think I would laugh. It was. I didn't. And, in a related note, if Sheldon were my room mate, I would have smothered that fucker in his sleep by episode 3, season 1.

After that Two and a Half Men came on. Now, I enjoy this show. I find it interesting how the character Charlie Harper so closely paralleled the ruined, drunken haze, that had become the life of Charlie Sheen. Perhaps that's why the character's name was Charlie - the directors and producers wanted to make sure that Sheen would remember his characters name no matter what state he showed up in. What better way to ensure this than to name the character after actor?! GENIUS!

As I was saying, I enjoy this show. I thought I'd see if I could make it through another 30 minutes without smiling or laughing. I smiled once and laughed once, but the rest of the time I remained stone faced. Was it because I was trying to prove a point that I could make it though the show without laughing, or was I actually not amused at attempts at humor in the show? I'm guessing the first one...but...

This is what it all comes down to. Enjoy what you want to enjoy and fuck what everyone else says.

Yes, that means me as well. Fuck me. Fuck me right in the neck.

So long as you enjoy it then that's all that matters...and that should be true no matter what your hobby; watching sit-coms, partaking in gang-bangs, practicing the ancient lost art of dildo carving, or whatever your bag is...so long as you like what you do then enjoy yourself while you do it!

Look at me - I write this blog. Hopefully those who read it enjoy it. If not...well...

Identity Crisis

I'm having an identity crisis. This is not to be confused with a mid-life crisis. It's rather a petty thing actually, but I know it's happening none the less.

As many of you know, I graduated on May 5th with my bachelor's degree after a few years of being out of the education game. Although I was one of the oldest in my program, the other students never saw it as an issue. I was one of them and welcome in every way. But...now that is over.

For the last three years, including summers, I have taken university classes. My largest class load was 18 credits, and my smallest was 6 during the summer months (which, due to its accelerated pace, is actually closer to 10 or 12). Besides being a husband and a father, my life was also defined by my student status. I was the president of two honor societies, one of which chartered with the help of the organization's main office. I was kept busy interning as part of my education program. I organized programs and workshops and trips for the other students to attend to enrich their learning experience while at university. All of this on top of working, being a husband, and a dad.

Now, as I sit here blogging, I no longer have paper deadlines or reading assignments hanging over my head and casting that shadow of guilt on me as I know I could be doing something else more important. The kids are off at school. The wife is out with her mother. I know that, at this very moment, whatever I decide to do after I post this blog will not be taking away from the time I could be working on that final project worth 95% of my final grade. I can enjoy video games guilt free. I can take a nap knowing that I'll still have nothing else to do once I wake up. This is an entirely new concept for me now. Apparently three years of continued university work will take it's mental toll on a person. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!

I'll probably start playing some video games that, while purchased for me for Christmas, I still haven't played due to the fact that I knew I would not accomplish anything for school if I started playing them. Skyrim sits, unplayed, since Christmas. Now that's willpower!

I'll be applying for jobs as well. Jobs that, until Saturday, I was under qualified for because I did not have a degree in my field. That is an amazing feeling!

And, finally, I'll apply for the master's program for my field. Not only because I plan on obtaining a Ph.D. but, if I'm not a student, then who am I?

Music and My Youth

I was brought up around music since my dad was in a band and played many instruments - from guitar to base, banjo to fiddle, my dad seemed to be able to pick up anything and play it right away. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of lying in a laundry pile next to the drums in our basement while his band practiced.

At some point during my childhood I discovered the LPs that my mom had stacked under the stereo. It was around the age of 8 or 9 that I began to cultivate my own interest in artists and bands like The Moody Blues, The Monkees, Neil Diamond, Cat Stevens, The Beatles, and Simon and Garfunkel. I specifically remember A Question of Balance by The Moody Blues because of its jacket.

To an 8 year old this is nightmare fuel.

As I grew into my early teens the music attached itself to the events of my childhood. I would pretend to sing How Can I Tell You by Cat Stevens to my crush. I would put on a mock performance of Father and Son by Cat Stevens to a crowd of my classmates and descend from the stage into the welcoming arms of everyone. Okay, so I had self esteem issues...sue me.

When I reached high school I formed a band with two other friends and we enjoyed local fame for about five years, and we eventually were told to put together a demo tape by a recording industry agent. While we never sent in that demo because the other two members were leaving for college and wanted to concentrate on their education rather than trying to keep a band together, I'm not bitter of the loss of potential fame and fortune...and here's why.

When I listen to these artists today I can still feel the same feelings and emotions that I felt so many years ago. Obviously I am older now and I can laugh about some of the scenarios which I dreamed up, and enjoy the memories of those which did come true. I never got the girl, but my band did play for my entire school on the last day of school before summer break. I didn't step off the stage into a mob of groupies, but I still remember looking out from the stage and seeing students and teachers alike enjoying the music, and even some teachers dancing with students. This was 18 years ago and it feels like yesterday. I can close my eyes and see it as if I were still there.

To everything in life, there is a song with which can accompany it. To almost every event which occurred in your life with music in the background, you can probably recall which song it was which was playing.

I crashed my first car into a tree listening to We Are the Champions.

The point is this: Music is a powerful thing! and I hope that your feelings, your emotions, and your memories are more happy than troubled. Everyone deserves to feel the way I feel when I listen to The Beatles - Let It Be.

Exes Ruin Everything

I hate exes. I don't hate all of mine. I'm actually still friends with a couple of them. I don't hate all of my wife's either. One of them helped me once when my car broke down and I needed someone with a truck and trailer to haul it to a garage to get it repaired.

When I say I hate exes I mean I hate the ones who ruin all the good things you once enjoyed in your own life for your significant other.

I've always been a fan of music. My taste in music is rather eclectic, but for the purpose of this we're going to focus on only a couple of bands and songs they performed:

Steve Miller Band - Fly Like an Eagle
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Higher Ground

I like those songs. I can't listen to them when my wife is around. Why?

An ex of my wife loved Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. He would watch the movie and TV show regularly.

By regularly I mean every single mother effin' day of this man's miserable existence.

WHO DOES THIS!?!

When I first met my wife and realized I was attracted to her I asked her if she had a history of mental instability. This isn't a joke; I actually asked her this. See, the last 3 girls I dated before her were, in order, 1) bi-polar with border line personality, 2) clinically depressive, and 3) bi-polar with clinically depressive. I'm not passing an arm chair diagnosis here - they were under the care of a state licensed psychiatrist.

Apparently I like fix-er-up projects.

I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with those needing mental health care. It's just that "mental instability requiring pharmaceutics" is a box I want don't need to see checked when I was accepting applicants for a significant other.

How about you? What have your significant other's exes ruined for you?

All My Stuff

George Carlin talked about stuff, and how we leave our house to go out and get more stuff. We then figure out we have too much stuff that we need a bigger place for our stuff.

My family is doing this backwards.

Years ago we moved from a large two story, six bedroom house into a 3 bedroom single level apartment. This required a lot of our stuff to be placed into storage. Luckily my father-in-law had some extra room in one of his garages and he built a 10x10 area for storage for us. We still had to rent a storage unit near where we lived for things like holiday decorations, seasonal clothing storage, and those types of things.

We later moved from that apartment into a smaller 2 bedroom house that was back in the town we wanted to live in. There was a garage that came with that house so a lot of our things ended up going into the garage, including the things from the rented storage unit.

We're moving again. This time we're renting two rooms from my in-laws; one of them for our kids, the other for us. We have had to, yet again, condense things down to the bare essentials. Clothes, beds, computers. The rest is being packed up to be placed into storage.

But it isn't going into the 10x10 storage unit that is already here with some of our stuff in it. It's being placed in a rented building which was formerly a bank about 8 miles away.

I now have things spread across a 10 mile radius in 3 different locations. And these are just the major things.

I have inheritable items at my grandma's and parent's homes. Desks, tables, and other assorted items are located 200 miles away from me.

Did I mention we're looking at moving AGAIN in about 6 to 8 months so that I can attend graduate school. This is on the condition I am offered a position, of course, but still...the looming task of repacking the things which we just packed and unpacked to move here is daunting. I hate the thought of it.

Right now it is almost worth however much it would cost to hire a moving company to come in to pack up all my shit, load it onto the truck, drive it down state, and unload the truck and move things into the apartment.

But the worst thing about all of this is that I don't know where anything is at anymore. Actually, I take that back. I know where just about everything is at. I've cataloged it all in my mind. I might not be able to lead you to the exact location in the unit, but I know which unit it is stored in.

Old pictures? 10x10. Sewing material? Old bank. Easter baskets? Old house.

The need for compartmentalization is key, otherwise it would be a tiring chore keeping track of the most unimportant items for all 4 people in our family.

Now that you've served as my therapist and I've unloaded all of this onto you - tell me about your moving nightmares. Do you have things scattered all across the state? Country? Globe?

...did I mention that I also have stuff that my best friend couldn't take with him when he moved to Germany? 12 years ago.

It's Not Like I Haven't Tried

My daughter is growing up. She turned 6 just a few months ago. I don't feel 6 years older, but it is obvious that time has passed and she is growing up.

She was my little girl until she started liking Miley Cyrus. Well, to be fair, she like Hannah Montana - but you say tomato, I say tomato. Wow...that phrase just doesn't have the same effect when it's in the written word.

Anyhow, M graduated from watching Nick Jr. to The Disney Channel a short time ago. This was a rite of passage that she initiated on her own. It was so much easier when I could turn the T.V. on for an hour in the morning, enjoy some coffee, check some emails, and know that Nickelodeon would not air something I wouldn't want M to see. Disney, on the other hand, isn't always appropriate for a 6 year old.



 A father doesn't mind (so much) their daughters emulating the image on the left. The image on the right, however...well, not unless you've always dreamed of your daughter posing with ducklips and looking like a whore.

I don't want my daughter to be a whore.

My standard reply to most things is "Not until you're 16." My wife says that's what her parents always told her when she was younger. Makeup, certain clothing, dating...all waited until she was 16. Who are we kidding - no it didn't. She would wear baggy sweatshirts in August weather to cover the tiny tank top underneath. 

My wife and I have exchanged stories of the things we did when we were younger. Through this sharing of information we hope that we have an adequate amount of counter-intelligence which we can use against our children. We also have an intricate network of spies planted throughout the city whose sole duty is to observe and report.

It's soon to be 14 years that our son has been on this earth. If we didn't catch him in the act of misbehaving, we found out about it shortly after it happened. More than once we've heard "How did you know?!"

Because, my dear boy, as hard as it is to believe, we were once your age too. We've either already tried it, thought of it, or came up with a better version than you.

So, because of all of this, I have come to the conclusion that M is simply going to be locked in the basement until the age of 23. This should prevent many duck-lip, parent shaming pictures from being taken 

Getting Back At It

Not that I have a great number of followers on Facebook, but the ones who have been around longer know a little about my wife's medical problems that we've been facing as of late. The outpouring of support and kind words by people who have only just began following be has been wonderful and a pleasant surprise. So, for that, I thank all of you.

I have a couple of things in the plans to write about, but today we've just finished a stretch of doctor appointments. Tomorrow is more of the same. This weekend I have to finish packing and moving things into storage. Next week things should slow down and I can begin posting more of my misanthropic adventures.

Again, thank you to all of those who emailed me, posted on Facebook, and texted me to let me know that me and my family were in your thoughts and prayers.

-TMF-

In Opposition

The contents from today's post are copied directly from my friends over at Tucows from this page. I feel that they hit the nail on the head and so I wanted to share it with you all. There are mentions of videos and such in the article. If you have the time and you're interested in watching them then please pay the site a visit and access the original article.

Why We Don’t Like SOPA
January 12th, 2012 | Written by Elliot Noss


The proposed SOPA (and equally odious “Protect IP Act“) legislation is fundamentally flawed in how it works and the damage it is likely to do to the Internet, which has been the greatest platform for innovation the world has ever seen.


The Internet is a global creature. A “Made in the USA” solution will no more work to stop the problems talked of than would one made in any other single nation state. Worse, the US has been at the forefront of ensuring that the Internet has remained free and a platform for innovation for the last fifteen years. With SOPA, or ProtectIP, that leadership will effectively end and Syria, China, Iran and others will not only use the US as a role model, they will also use these actions as further evidence of US control of the Internet and justification for trying to turn it over to the UN/ITU.


Worse, the legislation itself is fundamentally corrupt. It is bought and paid for by big media, trying vainly to protect anachronistic business models. This has been demonstrated clearly in all of the hearings and the very conduct of the debate. Listening to how deeply uninformed those being asked to legislate this issue are has been nothing short of scary. Watching how support and opposition has lined up has been disheartening. This is the worst example of the kind of fundamental corruption that is at the heart of the US political system currently and is well defined by Professor Larry Lessig. If you have ten minutes please watch this video on the subject. If you have an hour please watch this one.


The Internet is not a corpus, it is not a thing. It is a series of protocols, which are really agreements on how computers will behave when connected to the Internet. Treating the Internet like a thing to be legislated and controlled is as ill conceived as treating “Intellectual Property” like physical property and leads to even greater perversions. If governments squeeze too tightly, the Internet as we know it will simply get up and walk away. It will fracture and split with a “clean” Internet and a much larger Darknet. than there is today, but not one used mainly for file sharing. Instead the Darknet will become the real Internet. Brands will sell things and Media will offer content on the “Cleannet”, but the Darknet will be where ideas are shared, plans are made, memes are propagated and where most of the cool people, including most of our children, will be.


Prohibitions have never worked to change behaviours. They simply make people who fear things feel good and create a new mini-industry for fear mongers to make money off of. They do not change behaviours.

Girl Scout Cookies - A Fathers Involvement

I think that moms, and women in general, get a bad rap when it comes to Girl Scout cookies. While I'm sure they are laced with either crack or meth because they are so habit forming, this addiction does not limit itself to women alone. I have often found myself sitting at my desk, working on a project, and realize that an entire sleeve of Thin Mints lies empty before me. (On a side note, who is the cruel bastard that included the word "Thin" when naming a cookie?!) Men are just as guilty of craving these little 160 calorie pieces of sugar induced ecstasy. Ecstasy noun \ˈek-stə-sē\, a trance or trance-like state in which an individual transcends normal consciousness. Girl Scout cookies can do that to a person.

This past fall M got involved with Dasies and brought home her sheet in order to go out and start selling. Not only did I realize that I would going to be able to get my fix of Samoas, Thin Mints, and Do-si-dos, I came to the horrible realization that I would be recruited as a minion to sell this drug to unsuspecting customers.

"Yo! Ova'ere...I gotch 'ya Tagalongs you've been cravin'."

Sometimes the most aggressive sales techniques are the most successful.

M's mom and I decided to set a goal of 100 boxes that we would work on selling. We didn't want M to see the prize list because we didn't want her to be upset if she picked out something (which would inevitably be an iPod touch since she wants one like her mom and I have) and be disappointed with herself if she didn't reach that goal. Shes 6 - what do you want from us? Let her be disappointed that we're her parents when shes older and allow her some happiness now.

There's something about a scout's cookie order form that brings joy and sorrow into the hearts of many. Joy, because you know you're about to order and get your fix. Sorrow, because you know that the case of cookies that you ordered is really for you and not the "Christmas presents" you claim you will give them out as. Its typical of those with addictive behavior - lying about the truth to make yourself feel less ashamed. The good thing about Girl Scout cookies is that it doesn't take 12 weeks of rehab to get over it and your dealer doesn't come around every week. Lindsay Lohan should be so lucky.

In the end, M ended up selling around 150 boxes of cookies with her mom and I buying 2 cases (don't judge me!).

And as I close, I look over into the living room and see on the floor an empty wrapper from a sleeve of Do-si-does the wife and I ate while watching CSI:NY. It lay there as if it were discarded underwear from a nameless lover, taken home from the bar, in order that you could enjoy a guilty night of fornication. The shame in seeing it lying there was about the same.

At least Girl Scout cookies won't give you the clap.

Family Introduction

I announced the fact that I have a Facebook page before I even created a post with any substance. Hows that for ambition?

So, first - me. T.M.F. I'm a late bloomer - 35 years old and finishing a bachelor degree. I like to think that my academic career has been successful. My numerous awards, scholarships, and memberships to organizations should vouch for this success. Since this is my blog you'll be hearing different things about me throughout, so we'll keep my introduction at that. Besides - I want you to want to come back here and read.

My wife, S, is a stay-at-home mom but is also taking some online classes. She's full of adorable quirks which enamor me. One of them is the fact that we have a queen size bed which should be more than adequate for two grown adults to sleep in. This would be the case if she didn't love her pillows more than me. I sleep with one pillow; S sleeps with 3 - two of which are lined up, length wise, on the other side of her. So, in essence, the space of 3 people is squeezed into our bed. To complicate matters she is a sprawler when she sleeps. Typically I awake to her butt in my back, her legs and arms out stretched, and only enough room for me to sleep on my side and stretched out straight. If she isn't doing that then she is cuddling me to the edge of the bed. Either way she sleeps I find that shes also stolen my pillow and left me without. She now has 4 pillows and I have none.

We've been talking about getting a king size bed. Prior to the queen we had a full size bed and her pillows occupied the same amount of space then as they do now. If you're able to follow patterns and logic and you do well in those tests you find in magazines, you can see a pattern emerge and follow the "pillow to space ratio" theory.

My son, whom will typically be referred to as "B", is 13, in middle school, and going through the typical trials that life throws at people during this stage of life. He is currently affected by a terrible disability which most refer to as "puberty". At times he seems like my son, but then he'll break out and sing "...don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me..." (not to mention he dances while doing this). He thinks he is funny. His friends think he is funny. His humor is lost on his mother and me. Thankfully I was never like that when I was his age. "S" says, "Neither was I...and I'm a girl."

Our daughter "M" is our 6 yr old evil princess. Her negativity and evil minded behavior assure me that she, truly, is the fruit of my loins. Her mother and I are quite sure that she will eventually rule the world someday and we'll all be forced into labor camps and Justin Bieber will be our entertainment ambassador. Just today both M and B were told to make their beds. B made his while M did not. Upon their mother's inquiry B says he made his which prompts M to run into the room, jump on his bed, and say, "Mmmm...its messy" and run out...laughing hysterically. I yell at her most of the time, not because I am angry at the things she does, but because I'm thinking to myself, "Damn...wish I'd have thought of that."

I have lots of stories to share about all of these people, and more, that are a part of my life.

One quick warning...I am a cynical person. The name of this blog was chosen with purpose. I'm not the best father in the world (challenge - find me someone who is). Typically I find humor and laugh at things that I probably shouldn't. Our children can never claim that their childhood was boring. Besides...I figure that, if I'm going to have to pay for my children's therapy, I might as well get my money's worth...and, without us, they'd have nothing to talk about.

Facebook Page Launched.

You would think a person who hates most of humanity would not be on a site like Facebook. You're wrong. Where else might I find like minded individuals who are as cynical as I?

Drop by and say hello at facebook.com/TheMisanthropicFather

Breaking the Blog Cherry

mis·an·throp·ic adj \ˌmi-s^ən-ˈthrä-pik\

1: of, relating to, or characteristic of a misanthrope

2: marked by a hatred or contempt for humankind

Examples of MISANTHROPIC

1. <a misanthropic outlook on life that probably stems from a childhood filled with physical and emotional abuse>

fa·ther noun \ˈfä-thər\

Definition of FATHER

1 a : a man who has begotten a child

Yeah - that sounds about right.

Hope you're all strapped in - because this is going to get very, very interesting...