When The Captain takes a vacation, things never seem to work out as planned. Take the other day for example. I took two of my legitimates to the beach for a day of sun, surf and relaxation. Little did I know that I would be confronted by an ethical decision that threatened to strip away the social fabric of a family outing at the beach.
Settling down in our favorite spot on a private beach sheltered by sand dunes adorned with sea roses and sweet peas in bloom, I ushered my kids off to their day of fun with the words, “Go and play in the strong undertow.” Then things got interesting. A young couple, adorned with tattoos and piercings, spread out just to our right. The woman was trim and very tan – all over. And when I say all over, I mean all over, for she seemed to have lost her top. I wasn’t expecting to see pierced nipples, but there they were, just pointing at me in the afternoon sun, casting shadows in the fashion of ancient Mayan sundials (it was about 2:30). Don’t ask me to describe the guy – the details of his appearance escape me.
So being the responsible parent in charge of my 14 year old daughter and less than innocent 10 year old son, I realized that I must do something about this. But what? Should I ask her to practice some modesty and put her bikini top back on to protect the precious morals of my offspring? Should I just pretend that I never noticed and go about my business? I was unsure about what to do, so I resolved to try and read the tattoos artistically placed above, below and upon the chest of the young woman. I squinted and focused on the words, which were difficult to decipher in all that glare; but I persevered and after several minutes of concentration, I was able to conclude that no naughty words were written across her bosom. After the brief distraction of her boyfriend massaging her with suntan lotion, I relaxed a bit. She was using, I thought, an appropriate SPF rated lotion. I had been worried that my son or daughter would see her using second rate lotion and ask to do the same.
Right about then, my son got up from his sandcastle and approached. After several violent pokes to my ribs, he got my attention and asked me: “Dad, why is that woman naked?” Thinking quickly, I stammered. Then I reached for my gin and steeled myself as I prepared my fatherly response. Son, God brings us all into this world as naked as that scary looking hairless dog. I think that this young woman is just doing this to remind herself and anyone else within eyeshot that she is one of God’s creatures. It’s a way of thanking him for bringing her into the world. My son, used to such bullshit, simply moved on to his next question: “Why are her earrings on her chest?” I was ready for this one. “She must have been a bit groggy this morning and without thinking put them on the wrong body parts, kinda like how you sometimes put your pants on backwards in the morning.” This made sense to him, so he went back to his castle.
But no sooner had I breathed a sigh of relief than my daughter came successfully out of the undertow and up to our spot to get a beach towel. She caught a glimpse of God’s creation and mumbled “ooh, that’s gross” and headed straight back into the water. Her reaction helped me make up my mind about what I should say, which was nothing at all. Who am I to come between God and his creations?
Believe The Captain when he says: when confronted with naked breasts at the beach, praise the Lord.
Yours admiring all creatures great and small,
The Captain
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Vegans and Voltaire
Late Spring – the time to fire up the grill for a new season of charbroiled cuisine. Used to be that burgers and dogs and chicken were the standard fare. If you wanted to get fancy, then you went with ribs. Other than that, there was no use for a charcoal grill. Then came gas grills and, worse yet, average Joes who suddenly wanted something “better,” something gourmet. But even this was OK with The Captain so long as it was some kind of meat; heck, I kinda like the chicken on the beer can thing. But things have gotten way out of control. In these tragic times, people actually grill things like vegetables. But the epitome of this fire-stoked folly is something called a “Veggie Burger.” It’s even worse than the mystery meat they served us for lunch in high school, for it is purportedly healthy.
I was attending my first Barbeque party of the season last weekend when the host walked past with a plate of dry brown disks I mistook for doggy chew toys. Turns out they were Veggie Burgers. I can only surmise that these “soy-based” products were the brain child of some California politician whose ill-conceived government subsidized farming program was meant as a seedy ploy to grow the weedy economy choking the state to death. I am told that these pucks are made from soybeans, which seem to lack categorization.
I learned that these burgers were for a cute little red headed vegetarian girl (would Charlie Brown approve I wondered?). With her parents present, I questioned the child about why she was a vegetarian.
Me: Why the heck would you want to be a vegetarian and eat that sh…er, garbage?
Child: I don’t think that people should get their food by killing innocent animals.
Me: First, people don’t usually kill the animals; machines are used for that. Second, who says animals are innocent? That damned Chihuahua who bit open my ankle and then peed directly on the wound, was he so innocent I ask??
Child: But people run the machines that kill the animals.
Me: (Thinking to myself “Clever child.”) Ah, you’re a clever child.
Child: You’re mean.
Me: The world is hard and cruel Polyanna, better get used to it.
Parents of the child: Next question.
Me: So, are you a garden variety vegetarian or one of those kooky vegans?
Child: I eat cheese, so I am not a vegan.
Me: (Confused – was this girl a debating genius trying to throw me off my game by throwing in a red herring?) OK, I’ll bite. What does that have to do with anything?
Child: Cheese is made from milk, which is taken from a cow without its permission. Vegans won’t eat any food made from animal products taken without permission.
Me: That’s convenient, unless you’re Dr. Doolittle, it’s kinda hard to ask, eh?
Child: It’s implied.
Me: You’re not even supposed to know what that means! But really, taking milk from a cow is doing it a favor. Bessie gets engorged and her udders get painful; by milking her, we release the pressure and eliminate the pain.
Child: (Blank expression)
Me: OK. I can sort of understand the permission angle, but that lettuce leaf you just draped over your hockey puck burger, did you ask its permission to sever it from its roots and gnaw it to death??
Child: It doesn’t have a brain, so it has no soul like a cow does.
Me: The greatest metaphysicians spawned by the highest human civilizations have failed time and again to prove the existence of a human soul, let alone the soul of a large, smelly, dumb bovine (and I don’t mean my Uncle Harry), so to posit a demarcation between animal and plants with regard to “spirit” is spurious at best. Plants are living beings and, during a drunken state, I could in a single evening invent a dozen semi-viable proofs for the existence of a soul for green leafy things. So forgive me if I don’t gingerly approach my vegetable garden and mutter something like, “Beggin’ your pardon Mr. Arugula, but would it be askin’ too much to slice you clean off your roots so I can chew you into tiny bits to be swallowed and dissolved by my stomach acids?”
Child: Mommy?
Mother of Child: (Glaring at me like a cow with swollen udders) C’mon sweetie, let’s go and get you some dessert. I saw some yummy fudge brownies.
Me: (Shouting) Oh yeah, don’t forget to ask the brownies if they got permission to pick the cocoa beans used to make the chocolate flavoring!!!
In spite of what my lawyers tell me, I still think I’d make an effective law enforcement interrogator, at least in some undisclosed location in the Middle East.
In conclusion, if any of you wondered why I alluded to Voltaire in the title, it’s because he was the only philosopher whose name began with “V.” You know how much The Captain loves Alliteration or, more precisely, Consonance. Though to my knowledge he never argued pro or con for the existence of the soul, he appears in the same philosophy anthologies as some who did, so that’s a pretty solid connection, no?
So believe The Captain when he says: Cows, unlike Chia Garcias, do NOT have souls.
Yours eating steak,
The Captain
I was attending my first Barbeque party of the season last weekend when the host walked past with a plate of dry brown disks I mistook for doggy chew toys. Turns out they were Veggie Burgers. I can only surmise that these “soy-based” products were the brain child of some California politician whose ill-conceived government subsidized farming program was meant as a seedy ploy to grow the weedy economy choking the state to death. I am told that these pucks are made from soybeans, which seem to lack categorization.
I learned that these burgers were for a cute little red headed vegetarian girl (would Charlie Brown approve I wondered?). With her parents present, I questioned the child about why she was a vegetarian.
Me: Why the heck would you want to be a vegetarian and eat that sh…er, garbage?
Child: I don’t think that people should get their food by killing innocent animals.
Me: First, people don’t usually kill the animals; machines are used for that. Second, who says animals are innocent? That damned Chihuahua who bit open my ankle and then peed directly on the wound, was he so innocent I ask??
Child: But people run the machines that kill the animals.
Me: (Thinking to myself “Clever child.”) Ah, you’re a clever child.
Child: You’re mean.
Me: The world is hard and cruel Polyanna, better get used to it.
Parents of the child: Next question.
Me: So, are you a garden variety vegetarian or one of those kooky vegans?
Child: I eat cheese, so I am not a vegan.
Me: (Confused – was this girl a debating genius trying to throw me off my game by throwing in a red herring?) OK, I’ll bite. What does that have to do with anything?
Child: Cheese is made from milk, which is taken from a cow without its permission. Vegans won’t eat any food made from animal products taken without permission.
Me: That’s convenient, unless you’re Dr. Doolittle, it’s kinda hard to ask, eh?
Child: It’s implied.
Me: You’re not even supposed to know what that means! But really, taking milk from a cow is doing it a favor. Bessie gets engorged and her udders get painful; by milking her, we release the pressure and eliminate the pain.
Child: (Blank expression)
Me: OK. I can sort of understand the permission angle, but that lettuce leaf you just draped over your hockey puck burger, did you ask its permission to sever it from its roots and gnaw it to death??
Child: It doesn’t have a brain, so it has no soul like a cow does.
Me: The greatest metaphysicians spawned by the highest human civilizations have failed time and again to prove the existence of a human soul, let alone the soul of a large, smelly, dumb bovine (and I don’t mean my Uncle Harry), so to posit a demarcation between animal and plants with regard to “spirit” is spurious at best. Plants are living beings and, during a drunken state, I could in a single evening invent a dozen semi-viable proofs for the existence of a soul for green leafy things. So forgive me if I don’t gingerly approach my vegetable garden and mutter something like, “Beggin’ your pardon Mr. Arugula, but would it be askin’ too much to slice you clean off your roots so I can chew you into tiny bits to be swallowed and dissolved by my stomach acids?”
Child: Mommy?
Mother of Child: (Glaring at me like a cow with swollen udders) C’mon sweetie, let’s go and get you some dessert. I saw some yummy fudge brownies.
Me: (Shouting) Oh yeah, don’t forget to ask the brownies if they got permission to pick the cocoa beans used to make the chocolate flavoring!!!
In spite of what my lawyers tell me, I still think I’d make an effective law enforcement interrogator, at least in some undisclosed location in the Middle East.
In conclusion, if any of you wondered why I alluded to Voltaire in the title, it’s because he was the only philosopher whose name began with “V.” You know how much The Captain loves Alliteration or, more precisely, Consonance. Though to my knowledge he never argued pro or con for the existence of the soul, he appears in the same philosophy anthologies as some who did, so that’s a pretty solid connection, no?
So believe The Captain when he says: Cows, unlike Chia Garcias, do NOT have souls.
Yours eating steak,
The Captain
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Female Audience Rebuttal to Boys and Girls are Different...Really
If you want to raise a ruckus, simply declare in public, or in a blog on the internet (cyber public, I guess), that it is preferable to have been born a certain gender (coincidentally your own gender). That ought to do it…it did for The Captain with his last posting in cyber public (I have now officially coined this new phrase!) In fact, I received a vehement and, even better, funny rebuttal to this post from a Myrmidon with the cyberpseudonym (I just can’t control myself) of BriggChick, apparently an allusion to military prison and her rather easily offended gender. But prison chicks are cool (so I’ve heard), so I have decided to post the rebuttal…along with a few innocuous comments.
AHHH
Nothing in the article about intelligence my friend….Is there ever any intelligence in my articles??
I wonder if you left that out on purpose?!?!?!?!? No need to mention it. It would be akin to saying birds are better at flying than pigs.
J You mean, as in smoke one?
PS- girls rule and you know it!
Without girlie emotions… boys would apparently have nothing to “hunt down and destroy” forcing them to destroy each other…. (Hey there’s a thought…) Yes, boys absolutely love to destroy each other – it’s called male bonding. A bone can be set with a cool cast; a gash can be stitched and leave a cool scar; a broken nose will leave cool, permanent blood stains everywhere. Feelings are slippery, invisible, and can make you cry, something a guy just can’t allow to survive.
Considering boy’s desire to “hunt down and destroy” emotions of a MULTITUDE of girls… often at the same time…More proof that guys are better at math than girls; this is simple, dispassionate statistics. The greater the number of girls in the sampling increases the odds of the man finding a womb enabled (to steal a clever phrase from my co-author) partner who will not expect her man to have feelings. This is, I believe, what is known as Social Darwinism. I know many boys have COOTIES too… And you “know” this how?? dangerous cooties to boot… that when contracted... may stay with us dress wearing, womb enabled, ponytail sporting females for LIFE… (My sister is a gynecologist in the city of Buffalo Please send her my condolences. - BELIEVE ME when I say there are VERY dangerous Cooties out there, and folks of both sexes don’t do much about cooties now a days despite the availability of many methods to thwart them…) Awesome use of the word “thwart!” Wear Trojanz. Thwart Cooties.
Clearly- boys prefer getting lost or trespassing to getting to where you need to go on time… or without aggravation … Going anywhere with a woman pretty much guarantees aggravation. without girls to BLAME for the need for asking directions… Read your Bible; why did God wait until Adam was passed out before stealing a rib and making Eve? Because he knew Adam would never go for it, that’s why. But Adam, being puny and mortal, couldn’t very well blame that all powerful divine practical jokester God, could he? So he did the next best thing and blamed the woman! So there is a well established biblical precedent for blaming women. I am fairly certain that the human race would NEVER get anywhere without CHICKS.
Yours truly (and as always in jest), already at the desired destination Go right into that Jack and Jill Bridal Shower – please don’t wait for me as I will be busy getting lost., waiting on your trespassing, broken by a girl (probably emotionally and in the foot race) in the past, self,
BriggChick
Believe The Captain When He Says: Thanks for keeping me dishonest, BriggChick!
Yours in masculine tardiness,
The Captain
AHHH
Nothing in the article about intelligence my friend….Is there ever any intelligence in my articles??
I wonder if you left that out on purpose?!?!?!?!? No need to mention it. It would be akin to saying birds are better at flying than pigs.
J You mean, as in smoke one?
PS- girls rule and you know it!
Without girlie emotions… boys would apparently have nothing to “hunt down and destroy” forcing them to destroy each other…. (Hey there’s a thought…) Yes, boys absolutely love to destroy each other – it’s called male bonding. A bone can be set with a cool cast; a gash can be stitched and leave a cool scar; a broken nose will leave cool, permanent blood stains everywhere. Feelings are slippery, invisible, and can make you cry, something a guy just can’t allow to survive.
Considering boy’s desire to “hunt down and destroy” emotions of a MULTITUDE of girls… often at the same time…More proof that guys are better at math than girls; this is simple, dispassionate statistics. The greater the number of girls in the sampling increases the odds of the man finding a womb enabled (to steal a clever phrase from my co-author) partner who will not expect her man to have feelings. This is, I believe, what is known as Social Darwinism. I know many boys have COOTIES too… And you “know” this how?? dangerous cooties to boot… that when contracted... may stay with us dress wearing, womb enabled, ponytail sporting females for LIFE… (My sister is a gynecologist in the city of Buffalo Please send her my condolences. - BELIEVE ME when I say there are VERY dangerous Cooties out there, and folks of both sexes don’t do much about cooties now a days despite the availability of many methods to thwart them…) Awesome use of the word “thwart!” Wear Trojanz. Thwart Cooties.
Clearly- boys prefer getting lost or trespassing to getting to where you need to go on time… or without aggravation … Going anywhere with a woman pretty much guarantees aggravation. without girls to BLAME for the need for asking directions… Read your Bible; why did God wait until Adam was passed out before stealing a rib and making Eve? Because he knew Adam would never go for it, that’s why. But Adam, being puny and mortal, couldn’t very well blame that all powerful divine practical jokester God, could he? So he did the next best thing and blamed the woman! So there is a well established biblical precedent for blaming women. I am fairly certain that the human race would NEVER get anywhere without CHICKS.
Yours truly (and as always in jest), already at the desired destination Go right into that Jack and Jill Bridal Shower – please don’t wait for me as I will be busy getting lost., waiting on your trespassing, broken by a girl (probably emotionally and in the foot race) in the past, self,
BriggChick
Believe The Captain When He Says: Thanks for keeping me dishonest, BriggChick!
Yours in masculine tardiness,
The Captain
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Boys and Girls are Different...Really
The Captain is all for equality of the sexes. I have a fourteen year old daughter who is an ardent feminist with a laser death stare which would make even a forty-something-living-at home-with-Mom Trekkie jealous. To my knowledge, she’s the only human being capable of instantaneously silencing The Captain, so formidable is her glare.
We’ve heard all the old, tired arguments – boys are better than girls, boys are smarter than girls, boys are stronger than girls, boys are handsomer than girls, boys are better at math than girls, boys are better at sports than girls, boys are…ARGG…OUCH!!!...and as my daughter just proved by delivering a deft blow with her 40 lb. purse, girls are meaner than b….F*$#!!!!!!!!!!. I swear that little nerd from school who told her to fetch his soda for him ended up stuffed in that purse – what was left of him, anyway.
Yet, the truth is immutable. Plus, it can’t be changed…and no matter how many times I am battered senseless with an accessory, I must reach the same conclusion: boys and girls are different.
In order to save readers the considerable trouble of identifying and cataloguing the defining differences, The Captain has distilled them into the handful of bullet points below.
Warning: this is edgy, even for me. Please understand no offense is intended to any individual or group with a protected status. In real life, The Captain is a bleeding heart liberal who writes because, with three kids, he can’t afford therapy. So I apologize in advance for me.
Differences Between Boys and Girls
· Gender: Boys are male and girls are female. Exceptions: Some girls are masculine and some boys are feminine.
· Sexual Organs: Boys have a penis and a scrotum while girls have a vagina and a womb (those who thought I was going to say that when girls grow up they develop breasts and boys do not have made the mistake of overlooking the effects of obesity on contemporary males); Exceptions: shemales may have a combination of male and female organs, including fertile wombs, so they just confuse the heck out of me.
· Emotional wiring: Girls are wired to experience and display emotions; boys are wired to hunt down and destroy emotions. Exceptions: Gay boys.
· Girls have cooties; boys overcompensate. Exceptions: none.
· Girls look cute in pigtails; boys? Well…girls look cute in pigtails. Exceptions: my cousin Terry wore pigtails and was way too cute for his own good (just ask the guys in cell block three!).
· Boys break furniture; girls break boys. Exceptions: shemales – will damage both property and psyches.
· Boys can grow up to be priests; girls can grow up to be lesbians. Exceptions: Lutherans.
· Girls ask for directions; boys trespass. Exceptions: pretty boys who let the girls drive them around in shiny red wagons (the original GPS system – Girls Playing Satan).
· Girls like to put on pretty dresses; boys like to take them off (if you read this as a double entendre, then by all means I meant for that to happen!).
So believe The Captain when he says: Boys Rule!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yours still smarting from losing to Denise Bodner in the 50 yard dash in 6th grade,
The Captain
We’ve heard all the old, tired arguments – boys are better than girls, boys are smarter than girls, boys are stronger than girls, boys are handsomer than girls, boys are better at math than girls, boys are better at sports than girls, boys are…ARGG…OUCH!!!...and as my daughter just proved by delivering a deft blow with her 40 lb. purse, girls are meaner than b….F*$#!!!!!!!!!!. I swear that little nerd from school who told her to fetch his soda for him ended up stuffed in that purse – what was left of him, anyway.
Yet, the truth is immutable. Plus, it can’t be changed…and no matter how many times I am battered senseless with an accessory, I must reach the same conclusion: boys and girls are different.
In order to save readers the considerable trouble of identifying and cataloguing the defining differences, The Captain has distilled them into the handful of bullet points below.
Warning: this is edgy, even for me. Please understand no offense is intended to any individual or group with a protected status. In real life, The Captain is a bleeding heart liberal who writes because, with three kids, he can’t afford therapy. So I apologize in advance for me.
Differences Between Boys and Girls
· Gender: Boys are male and girls are female. Exceptions: Some girls are masculine and some boys are feminine.
· Sexual Organs: Boys have a penis and a scrotum while girls have a vagina and a womb (those who thought I was going to say that when girls grow up they develop breasts and boys do not have made the mistake of overlooking the effects of obesity on contemporary males); Exceptions: shemales may have a combination of male and female organs, including fertile wombs, so they just confuse the heck out of me.
· Emotional wiring: Girls are wired to experience and display emotions; boys are wired to hunt down and destroy emotions. Exceptions: Gay boys.
· Girls have cooties; boys overcompensate. Exceptions: none.
· Girls look cute in pigtails; boys? Well…girls look cute in pigtails. Exceptions: my cousin Terry wore pigtails and was way too cute for his own good (just ask the guys in cell block three!).
· Boys break furniture; girls break boys. Exceptions: shemales – will damage both property and psyches.
· Boys can grow up to be priests; girls can grow up to be lesbians. Exceptions: Lutherans.
· Girls ask for directions; boys trespass. Exceptions: pretty boys who let the girls drive them around in shiny red wagons (the original GPS system – Girls Playing Satan).
· Girls like to put on pretty dresses; boys like to take them off (if you read this as a double entendre, then by all means I meant for that to happen!).
So believe The Captain when he says: Boys Rule!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yours still smarting from losing to Denise Bodner in the 50 yard dash in 6th grade,
The Captain
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The New Math
Remember when you were a marginal student occupying the special corner seat in Grammar school and the heavyset woman with the mustache tried to “learn” you addition and subtraction? Well, I do. And how every time you were just about to master a simple mathematical operation they went and changed to a new math with a new textbook and messed you up and sent you careening once again down the path of severe depression and alcoholism? Well, I half remember something like that. So here I am, some thirty years and fifteen renditions of new math later, still drinking, but for entirely different reasons. Fortunately for me, I got swept up in the “Social Promotion” movement and my seat time was enough to get my sorry ass promoted all the way out of High School like shit through a goose.
But I have recently discovered that public schools aren’t just messin’ with math these days. They’ve expanded their antics to just about every other subject. I attended the Intermediate School “Enrichment” event the other night. My precocious (in the bad sense, if you can believe it!) fourth grader was one of 40 or so kids who displayed their year long projects to nauseatingly fawning parents and grandparents. He studied medieval knights and castles and shot a somewhat violent video of a battle siege (no toys were raped or tortured during the making of the video; OK, maybe that’s not entirely accurate; a more truthful statement might be: no “living” toys were raped or tortured during the making of the video).
Three sixth graders were asked by the Enrichment teacher to present a Powerpoint Presentation to the audience to kick off the evening. Here’s what I “learned”:
* Children today need to complete a formal written survey in order to figure out what interests them; apparently a working brain and 5 senses aren’t enough any more;
* Kids are being taught ridiculous catch phrases at the Primary school level; while this may offend my sense of humility, I have to admit it does prepare them well for the world of corporate elitism, where coining silly idiomatic expressions is highly valued; I learned that the “Interest-alyzer” is an infallible instrument for predicting school projects;
* Why infallible?? Because all three sixth graders had the same story to tell – the “Interest-alyzer” selected two topics of interest for each of them: one that they really liked and one that was generated from a pre-programmed list of most excellent enrichment topics as determined by the software engineers who created the “Renzulli” instrument (no doubt three drunk MIT students getting revenge for all of the excruciatingly boring enrichment projects they had to demonstrate to slumber challenged parents at gunpoint by the Enrichment teacher whose contract was up for renewal at the end of the year).
* It’s in the data! Meaning the “Interest-alyzer” will generate a spreadsheet of data based on respondents’ answers and will 100% of the time recommend that the student ditch the topic that they like and use “Renzulli’s” choice (meaning a topic they could give two shits about). How’s that for data integrity??
* Teachers and Technology don’t mix; it is not good form to ask a student to make a presentation to a group of parents and then proceed to step directly between the student and the audience to attempt to adjust the projector and “eclipse” the student with your considerable posterior. Truth be told, this was the most entertaining part of the presentation – entertaining in the way that watching your drunk Uncle Harry trying to flush the bathtub after peeing in it is entertaining. The projector had gone into sleep mode and, by the time our dynamic didactic dunderhead figured it out, so had the audience.
* Watching a sixth grader use hand puppets to act out the killing of dolphins was, surprisingly, at once disturbing and entertaining.
* Some things never change; I saw a cute little girl standing next to her project, an elaborate, handmade cityscape built to scale illustrating the effects of pollution on our community. I complimented her project and asked her how pollution affects our town. She just gave me a blank stare and pointed to the mall like some mime who’d breathed in a little too much second hand smoke. As I departed, I told her to tell her Dad that he does nice work. That must have registered because she gave me a sheepish grin.
* Some parents are sheltered; when my 10 year old was explaining about the Templar Knights and their penchant for sodomy, or the graphic details of drawing and quartering, some parents actually blanched!
* Jocks remain jocks. Did you know that you can explain quantum physics by setting up basketball hoop and shooting baskets? Me neither. And a word of advice: never put the basketball hoop next to the elaborate but fragile cityscape (unless you want to see a fistfight - then, by all means, do it).
The evening concluded in a manner in which I cannot recount, because I snuck out a little early, right after the Principal exhorted the guests to stick around for round two of Powerpoints. Had he asked me why I was leaving, I would have told him that I am severely allergic to academic enrichment (and large women with facial hair).
So believe The Captain when he says: When commenting to a fifth grader on her Henri Matisse display, try not to say things like, “Damn, that dude was on some serious fucking drugs!”
Yours on the Intermediate School’s “Do Not Call” list,
The Captain
But I have recently discovered that public schools aren’t just messin’ with math these days. They’ve expanded their antics to just about every other subject. I attended the Intermediate School “Enrichment” event the other night. My precocious (in the bad sense, if you can believe it!) fourth grader was one of 40 or so kids who displayed their year long projects to nauseatingly fawning parents and grandparents. He studied medieval knights and castles and shot a somewhat violent video of a battle siege (no toys were raped or tortured during the making of the video; OK, maybe that’s not entirely accurate; a more truthful statement might be: no “living” toys were raped or tortured during the making of the video).
Three sixth graders were asked by the Enrichment teacher to present a Powerpoint Presentation to the audience to kick off the evening. Here’s what I “learned”:
* Children today need to complete a formal written survey in order to figure out what interests them; apparently a working brain and 5 senses aren’t enough any more;
* Kids are being taught ridiculous catch phrases at the Primary school level; while this may offend my sense of humility, I have to admit it does prepare them well for the world of corporate elitism, where coining silly idiomatic expressions is highly valued; I learned that the “Interest-alyzer” is an infallible instrument for predicting school projects;
* Why infallible?? Because all three sixth graders had the same story to tell – the “Interest-alyzer” selected two topics of interest for each of them: one that they really liked and one that was generated from a pre-programmed list of most excellent enrichment topics as determined by the software engineers who created the “Renzulli” instrument (no doubt three drunk MIT students getting revenge for all of the excruciatingly boring enrichment projects they had to demonstrate to slumber challenged parents at gunpoint by the Enrichment teacher whose contract was up for renewal at the end of the year).
* It’s in the data! Meaning the “Interest-alyzer” will generate a spreadsheet of data based on respondents’ answers and will 100% of the time recommend that the student ditch the topic that they like and use “Renzulli’s” choice (meaning a topic they could give two shits about). How’s that for data integrity??
* Teachers and Technology don’t mix; it is not good form to ask a student to make a presentation to a group of parents and then proceed to step directly between the student and the audience to attempt to adjust the projector and “eclipse” the student with your considerable posterior. Truth be told, this was the most entertaining part of the presentation – entertaining in the way that watching your drunk Uncle Harry trying to flush the bathtub after peeing in it is entertaining. The projector had gone into sleep mode and, by the time our dynamic didactic dunderhead figured it out, so had the audience.
* Watching a sixth grader use hand puppets to act out the killing of dolphins was, surprisingly, at once disturbing and entertaining.
* Some things never change; I saw a cute little girl standing next to her project, an elaborate, handmade cityscape built to scale illustrating the effects of pollution on our community. I complimented her project and asked her how pollution affects our town. She just gave me a blank stare and pointed to the mall like some mime who’d breathed in a little too much second hand smoke. As I departed, I told her to tell her Dad that he does nice work. That must have registered because she gave me a sheepish grin.
* Some parents are sheltered; when my 10 year old was explaining about the Templar Knights and their penchant for sodomy, or the graphic details of drawing and quartering, some parents actually blanched!
* Jocks remain jocks. Did you know that you can explain quantum physics by setting up basketball hoop and shooting baskets? Me neither. And a word of advice: never put the basketball hoop next to the elaborate but fragile cityscape (unless you want to see a fistfight - then, by all means, do it).
The evening concluded in a manner in which I cannot recount, because I snuck out a little early, right after the Principal exhorted the guests to stick around for round two of Powerpoints. Had he asked me why I was leaving, I would have told him that I am severely allergic to academic enrichment (and large women with facial hair).
So believe The Captain when he says: When commenting to a fifth grader on her Henri Matisse display, try not to say things like, “Damn, that dude was on some serious fucking drugs!”
Yours on the Intermediate School’s “Do Not Call” list,
The Captain
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Captain's Gratuitous Swine Flu Bulletin
Thanks to concerned, conscientious Myrmidon Tim Costello for bringing to my attention the outbreak of something called Swine Flu (and for the frightening image below). Given my history of producing Fire Safety bulletins, he suggested I pen an epidemiological warning about what seems to be, if you watch television, the end of the world. I don’t really know much about that, or anything else for that matter, but I am no intellectual snob who insists that knowledge about a particular subject is either helpful or necessary when opining. In fact, I find it a hell of a lot easier to bloviate from a position of ignorance – less work.
“Facts” from The Captain
· You don’t catch Swine Flu through “intimate” contact with living pork; that being said, doing what this babe below is doing can lead to life-ruining taunts, bizarre sexual hang ups, and expensive yet fruitless therapy (If you scrolled down to the photo expecting to see a picture of a gorgeous woman then 1 - you’re a guy and 2 - the word “babe” has more than one meaning).
· You won’t “get” swine flu by touching doorknobs, though you may “get off” if you are of a certain gender and touch them at just the right angle.
· Perspective people, perspective. The fatality rate of this strain of Swine Flu is roughly the same as the annual fatality rate of people who die after stepping into empty elevator shafts or after getting their scarves stuck between closed elevator doors. This is actually and really true.
· More perspective. How many of you know people who use public restrooms to purge their insides who never wash their hands!! Where’s the CDC bulletin on this?!!
· As of this writing, there were 257 confirmed cases of Swine Flu in the whole world; that’s 257 out of 6,706,993,152 (I tried to calculate a % on my little computer calculator and it wouldn’t even work because it’s so insignificant). The Captain has a better chance of dating Miss America than contracting Swine Flu (if I end up getting Swine Flu I’m calling Miss America, or at the very least, Miss California, who I will win over with my staunch opposition to human/pig marriages).
When visiting the local petting zoo, remember to have your kids rinse their mouths with hydrogen peroxide if they accidently happen to slip Wilbur the tongue. Also, just in case you’re not sure, I can confirm from personal experience that tossing your child into the bear pit for ha has may seem like good, earthy fun to you, but the gesture is not likely to be perceived as particularly funny by the tossee. Can you say “Ursine Bitch”? (Special recognition to readers who know the identity of Wilbur.*)
“Facts” from The Captain
· You don’t catch Swine Flu through “intimate” contact with living pork; that being said, doing what this babe below is doing can lead to life-ruining taunts, bizarre sexual hang ups, and expensive yet fruitless therapy (If you scrolled down to the photo expecting to see a picture of a gorgeous woman then 1 - you’re a guy and 2 - the word “babe” has more than one meaning).
· You won’t “get” swine flu by touching doorknobs, though you may “get off” if you are of a certain gender and touch them at just the right angle.
· Perspective people, perspective. The fatality rate of this strain of Swine Flu is roughly the same as the annual fatality rate of people who die after stepping into empty elevator shafts or after getting their scarves stuck between closed elevator doors. This is actually and really true.
· More perspective. How many of you know people who use public restrooms to purge their insides who never wash their hands!! Where’s the CDC bulletin on this?!!
· As of this writing, there were 257 confirmed cases of Swine Flu in the whole world; that’s 257 out of 6,706,993,152 (I tried to calculate a % on my little computer calculator and it wouldn’t even work because it’s so insignificant). The Captain has a better chance of dating Miss America than contracting Swine Flu (if I end up getting Swine Flu I’m calling Miss America, or at the very least, Miss California, who I will win over with my staunch opposition to human/pig marriages).
When visiting the local petting zoo, remember to have your kids rinse their mouths with hydrogen peroxide if they accidently happen to slip Wilbur the tongue. Also, just in case you’re not sure, I can confirm from personal experience that tossing your child into the bear pit for ha has may seem like good, earthy fun to you, but the gesture is not likely to be perceived as particularly funny by the tossee. Can you say “Ursine Bitch”? (Special recognition to readers who know the identity of Wilbur.*)
Shortly, after this photograph was taken, the kisser contracted mononucleosis. The cute little human, fortunately, is just fine.
Believe The Captain when he says: “Kissing a pig is safer than riding an elevator!”
Yours shopping for hydrogen peroxide,
The Captain
* Wilbur is the prize winning pig from Charlotte’s Web.
Believe The Captain when he says: “Kissing a pig is safer than riding an elevator!”
Yours shopping for hydrogen peroxide,
The Captain
* Wilbur is the prize winning pig from Charlotte’s Web.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Change Your Behavior and Your Brain Will Follow
Here are some of The Captain’s thoughts on the latest propaganda from the Loose…uh, sorry, Family… Connection Seminar. My initial thought was: they couldn’t possibly be talking about my brain. My second thought was: it really isn’t fair to blame them for not talking about my brain. My third thought was: because of my inferiority complex, I’m still offended that they aren’t talking about my brain, so to get revenge for the perceived though highly fictional slight, I will satirize their latest treatise of armchair psychology. My final thought was: I don’t really need any motivation to satirize so thought three can be discarded. See my commentary in pink (a daring change from red, no?)
Changing your behavior – whether quitting smoking, starting an exercise program, or
giving up unhealthy eating habits – is hard work. But once you’re past the initial difficulty, your brain will create new neural pathways that can bypass old habits and self-sabotaging thoughts. Learn more at Change Your Behavior and Your Brain Will Follow, this month’s Family Connection seminar.
This seminar focuses on:
• Why change is so challenging – Because I just don’t want to change.
• The triggers that can lead to self-defeating behavior – That’s stupid. No one “defeats” themself; if you want to say that alcohol, or teenage children, or the evil little sprite that chants nasty things to me from inside my brain, sometimes get the best of me – I can agree with that statement. There is always someone to blame.
• Activities that promote meaningful change through the process of rewiring your brain – The wires in your brain are so freakin tiny that there are no tools small enough to do this, not even surgical tools. Your brain wires end up like my shoelaces – one big knot. Not even a Swiss Army knife (trust me on this one) can help. Plus, it hurts.
Creating Neural Pathways
There has been legitimate research conducted on how human habits are formed. All these studies are all merely addendums to Aristotle, who preached that practice makes permanent. Pretty simple really: repeat a behavior enough times and it becomes a habit. However, there are subtle nuances that should not be ignored.
I will share an experiment I recently conducted on myself to illustrate. Some authorities claim that to form a habit, you must repeat an action 20 times, give or take. Generally true, but not always. So for twenty consecutive evenings, right before bedtime, as a substitute for gargling, The Captain poured a shot of whiskey, dispatched it with enthusiasm, and went to bed. On the twentieth night, without thinking, I simply left the bottle of Jameson out on the counter, along with the shot glass, to make night 21 more convenient. Habit formed. On night 21, I resolved to start a new habit. Instead of Irish Whiskey, I would make a habit of Vodka. So right before bed, I downed 20 consecutive shots of Grey Goose and passed out on the kitchen floor. I woke up vomit-stained on the afternoon of day 22 and on the evening of the 22nd day, I did NOT take a shot of Vodka before retiring. Habit not formed.
Lesson Learned: the interval of time between repetitions matters.
Here’s an illustration from my childhood. Starting on my 3rd birthday, my mind would begin to wander somewhere it shouldn’t and I would be remonstrated by my parents for this. Invariably my response would be “What the F$*k?” Invariably, their response was corporal punishment. Yet, despite the repeated beatings that continued unabated for a good 20 years, my mind continues to wander to this very day, as you are all painfully aware. My brain often leads my body into the most unusual places and almost always into trouble. Train that Noontime Session!
Lesson Learned: Noontime Session gurus are lying bastards. Neural pathways are a dead end.
Change is Hard Work
Not always says The Captain. Was it hard work when I made the change from watered down American beer to the more robust European lagers? Was it hard work when I made the change from a Detroit Lions fan to a New England Patriots fan? Was it hard work when I changed from briefs to boxers? And then to boxer briefs???? I’ll tell you: NOT!
Lesson Learned: boxer briefs are the perfect compromise.
Activities that Promote Meaningful Change
· Torture: I don’t care what the experts say; if I had really believed that my mother was going to waterboard me, I would have been nice to my sisters.
· Sobriety: People are way different when they decide to sober up.
· Putting the Christmas tree in the stand: no better way to turn Dad into a homicidal maniac.
· Full-time employment at an Insurance Company: produces zombies at a faster clip than secretly implanted alien monster eggs.
· Attending Data Information meetings: if you consider passing from a waking state into a drooling stupor a “meaningful” change.
Lesson Learned: Never mix sobriety and Insurance work: you might not wake up. Better to become an alien controlled zombie – at least they have some fun with maiming and mayhem; Insurance zombies suffer a far worse fate – returning day after to day to drab, gray cubicles to work with Claims Adjusters, Underwriters, and (gulp) Actuaries.
Activities that do not Promote Meaningful Change
· Attending a Family Connection Seminar
· School Detention
· Adult Detention, also called Incarceration
Lesson Learned: Apparently, nobody learned a thing!
Believe The Captain when he says: Move Your Body and your Brain will follow, unless, of course, an alien embryo has already eaten your brain from within, in which case this maxim would not apply.
Yours with his brain addled but still in tact,
The Captain
Changing your behavior – whether quitting smoking, starting an exercise program, or
giving up unhealthy eating habits – is hard work. But once you’re past the initial difficulty, your brain will create new neural pathways that can bypass old habits and self-sabotaging thoughts. Learn more at Change Your Behavior and Your Brain Will Follow, this month’s Family Connection seminar.
This seminar focuses on:
• Why change is so challenging – Because I just don’t want to change.
• The triggers that can lead to self-defeating behavior – That’s stupid. No one “defeats” themself; if you want to say that alcohol, or teenage children, or the evil little sprite that chants nasty things to me from inside my brain, sometimes get the best of me – I can agree with that statement. There is always someone to blame.
• Activities that promote meaningful change through the process of rewiring your brain – The wires in your brain are so freakin tiny that there are no tools small enough to do this, not even surgical tools. Your brain wires end up like my shoelaces – one big knot. Not even a Swiss Army knife (trust me on this one) can help. Plus, it hurts.
Creating Neural Pathways
There has been legitimate research conducted on how human habits are formed. All these studies are all merely addendums to Aristotle, who preached that practice makes permanent. Pretty simple really: repeat a behavior enough times and it becomes a habit. However, there are subtle nuances that should not be ignored.
I will share an experiment I recently conducted on myself to illustrate. Some authorities claim that to form a habit, you must repeat an action 20 times, give or take. Generally true, but not always. So for twenty consecutive evenings, right before bedtime, as a substitute for gargling, The Captain poured a shot of whiskey, dispatched it with enthusiasm, and went to bed. On the twentieth night, without thinking, I simply left the bottle of Jameson out on the counter, along with the shot glass, to make night 21 more convenient. Habit formed. On night 21, I resolved to start a new habit. Instead of Irish Whiskey, I would make a habit of Vodka. So right before bed, I downed 20 consecutive shots of Grey Goose and passed out on the kitchen floor. I woke up vomit-stained on the afternoon of day 22 and on the evening of the 22nd day, I did NOT take a shot of Vodka before retiring. Habit not formed.
Lesson Learned: the interval of time between repetitions matters.
Here’s an illustration from my childhood. Starting on my 3rd birthday, my mind would begin to wander somewhere it shouldn’t and I would be remonstrated by my parents for this. Invariably my response would be “What the F$*k?” Invariably, their response was corporal punishment. Yet, despite the repeated beatings that continued unabated for a good 20 years, my mind continues to wander to this very day, as you are all painfully aware. My brain often leads my body into the most unusual places and almost always into trouble. Train that Noontime Session!
Lesson Learned: Noontime Session gurus are lying bastards. Neural pathways are a dead end.
Change is Hard Work
Not always says The Captain. Was it hard work when I made the change from watered down American beer to the more robust European lagers? Was it hard work when I made the change from a Detroit Lions fan to a New England Patriots fan? Was it hard work when I changed from briefs to boxers? And then to boxer briefs???? I’ll tell you: NOT!
Lesson Learned: boxer briefs are the perfect compromise.
Activities that Promote Meaningful Change
· Torture: I don’t care what the experts say; if I had really believed that my mother was going to waterboard me, I would have been nice to my sisters.
· Sobriety: People are way different when they decide to sober up.
· Putting the Christmas tree in the stand: no better way to turn Dad into a homicidal maniac.
· Full-time employment at an Insurance Company: produces zombies at a faster clip than secretly implanted alien monster eggs.
· Attending Data Information meetings: if you consider passing from a waking state into a drooling stupor a “meaningful” change.
Lesson Learned: Never mix sobriety and Insurance work: you might not wake up. Better to become an alien controlled zombie – at least they have some fun with maiming and mayhem; Insurance zombies suffer a far worse fate – returning day after to day to drab, gray cubicles to work with Claims Adjusters, Underwriters, and (gulp) Actuaries.
Activities that do not Promote Meaningful Change
· Attending a Family Connection Seminar
· School Detention
· Adult Detention, also called Incarceration
Lesson Learned: Apparently, nobody learned a thing!
Believe The Captain when he says: Move Your Body and your Brain will follow, unless, of course, an alien embryo has already eaten your brain from within, in which case this maxim would not apply.
Yours with his brain addled but still in tact,
The Captain
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