The Homework Ate My Daughter

I love language, and most especially, the ambiguity and elasticity of thought symbols constructed of the randomly assigned collection of lines and squiggles we call alphabets. Language is a metaphor for The Captain: I love myself; I’m ambiguous and elastic in my thinking, especially when it comes to reality; and I am constructed of randomly assigned genes, which, when depicted on paper by scientists, look a lot like a bunch of lines and squiggles. I was recently reminded of this when I arrived home from work one day and went to greet my teenage daughter with a kiss and a hug. “Not now, I’m doing my homework!” Licking my wounds, I retreated, scribbling notes about the encounter to use for my blog. There was a time, not that long ago, when I would have been greeted with an enthusiastic “Hi Daddy!” to go along with a great big hug and kiss. What changed? Right then and there the perfect metaphor for this moment fell out of the sky and smacked me in my brain: homework.

Home and Work. Use these words separately and you have two separate thoughts. As I toil at work for a lifeless Insurance company, I long for quittin’ time, when I get to go home and relax after a full day of work. But as I was reminded by my encounter with my daughter, the world is set upon its head for children if you combine them to create a new word: homework, the bane of all students. After a hard day of texting and learning, students must come home and do their homework. All the unpleasant memories came rushing back like flashbacks after a blackout. Homework sucks the life and happiness right out of you.

I remember the rush of adrenalin when my 7th grade teacher taught us about child labor laws. I went straight home and told my parents that child labor laws prohibit them from making me do my homework, and ran up the street to share my revelation with my friends, who all joined me in the streets for a celebratory game of kickball! But the air was kicked out of me the very next day when I was called into the Principal’s office for a meeting with my parents and history teacher, who deflated me by explaining that child labor laws do not, in fact, apply to public schools. But I learned a valuable lesson that day. Children have no rights and adults are lying bastards.

So all these years later, now (debatably) an adult, as I sat there feeling sorry for myself, I experienced something strange and new. I believe the word for it is empathy. It wasn’t me (though, admittedly, sometimes it is); the homework ate my daughter! I realize that one day, my daughter will be regurgitated to me and the pleasant greetings will return. Armed with this new feeling and a new word, I walked gently up to my daughter, braced myself, and gave her a great big hug…and I think I caught a glimpse of the tiniest of smiles.

Believe The Captain when he says: Beware when home and work hook up.

Yours drumming up a game of adult kickball – because I can!

The Captain

You can't blame it on this guy!

God Does Not Speak to You

There has been a great deal of debate recently about God’s political preferences. I find these all very amusing. The Captain is here to set the record straight. God does not speak directly to you, or your priest or minister or imam, or your dog or hamster, and he certainly doesn’t speak to me; heck, even my mother doesn’t speak directly to me (and it took years for me to accomplish that one!). Since God doesn’t speak to me, how, you might ask, could I possibly make such a confident assertion? Fair question. The answer is elementary – deduction, that is. Here’s what I have deduced.

· Christine O’Donnell has become the poster child for politicians who claim that the almighty, like some down-on-his-luck street puppeteer who fell off the wagon, pulls the strings of her campaign for one of the most powerful political positions in the world – US Senator. You may assume that I am mocking this wiccan exile, and you’d be correct, but I love Christine O’Donnell. She is the perfect cure for writer’s block. So even though her conviction that God speaks to her seems genuine enough, how can I be so sure she’s deluded? Well, would a divine being deign to take time out of her busy day to try and explain the subtleties of healthcare, foreign policy, or the US tax code to such a ditzy, unemployed, pagan goddess who fibs on her resume? Based on her public statements, it’s obvious that these discussions have never taken place and that the divine voice she claims to hear is but a phantom of her un-medicated mind.

· The Scandal of Boredom. You’ll love this one because I just made it up. It is utterly scandalous to even imagine a divine being with first hand knowledge of the mysteries of the universe having the slightest interest in having a chat with such a lying, thieving,violent creation. Yeah, maybe God made us, but when a human produces a pile of crap that ends up in a swimming pool, what does he do? He runs away as fast as he can and denies he had anything to do with it; or at the very least, sticks around to watch from a safe distance the mayhem he created. There’s just no way an omnipotent, omniscient being wants to shoot the breeze with us. She’d be bored out of her mind – she already knows what we’re going to say to her and her surpassing knowledge means her musings have no relation to even the most brilliant human thoughts. There really is nothing analogous in the world. The closest thing I can think of is Albert Einstein trying to explain his Special Theory of Relativity to Sarah Palin…which gives me an idea. I think I’ll contact Palin’s press secretary to set up a national debate on science versus religion; I’ll hire an Einstein impersonator to come out on stage at the last second to take up the cause for science– it will be fun to see how long Mama Dizzy debates the imposter before figuring out that the real Einstein’s been dead since 1955. 2-1 she debates the full hour. But I digress…

· Finally, I think that when all is said and done, I must believe that God doesn’t speak directly to the world. Simply take a look at some of the notable examples from recent history of individuals with whom God has purportedly chosen to converse: Joseph Smith,Jr., who forbade his followers from consuming liquor (no benevolent deity would think of doing such a thing), the “reverend” Jim Jones, who single-handedly transformed Kool Aid from a popular kids drink into a national punch line (pun intended), or David Berkowitz aka Son of Sam, who randomly killed innocent people on orders from God via his neighbor's demon dog. The only conclusion one can reach is that God is one fucked up individual, and I’m not willing to accept that. Why God created a world that includes Christine O’Donnell is beyond my spiritual and intellectual scope. But I am quite sure that she gave me the capacity to laugh at silly people and the world is full of them, present company included. To that I say “Thank God!”

Believe The Captain when he asks: What if God was a mime?

Yours doing the moonwalk,

The Captain

The Captain for President!

There has been an exciting development in the world of politics that’s given rise to a secret ambition of The Captain. It seems that the job description for politicians has changed. For years, it was lying, corruption, hubris, lawyering and mercenary pandering. At the moment, however, to have serious political aspirations, one need only be a complete nutjob living in a fantasy world. Hello! So you, my Myrmidons, shall be a witness to history as yours truly declares publically right here in this blog my intention to run for the highest office in the land after Liquor Board Commissioner, the President of the United States of America. If I can figure out how to do it, I will create an online petition so that I can garner the signatures needed to be a write in candidate in the next Presidential election. Armageddon here we come! Unlike all other politicians, I will now set out to explicitly outline my political platform to create a more humorous nation.

· I know that I’m a political amateur, but it seems that most politicians fail to recognize a truly transcendent policy when they see one. Take “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” This is the cornerstone of my campaign and The Captain’s Golden Rule. Don’t ask me what I was doing this morning at 2 am and I won’t tell the world what I saw you doing. Idiotically simple - which is why I think I can actually win with it!

· Anti-Prohibitionist Movement. I am the self proclaimed leader of this grassroots movement which has a simple message for big government: Keep your hands off my booze!!! Now you and I both know that in reality there is no organized political effort to bring back Prohibition, but I have noticed that it is all the rage to invent political bogeymen to scare the shit out of ignorant voters to get them to vote for you. So I ask you. What’s scarier than a dry USA??? Exactly.

· Another thing in my favor is the fact that dabbling in bizarre anti-social or satanic rituals is now considered a political asset. I know I said that DADT is my Golden Rule, but I’m going to contradict myself like a good politician and tell anyone who’ll listen about my brief but memorable stint in college as a charter member of the Lovin’ Lucifers. Formerly, when people asked me about this, my response has always been, “I thought it was a joke, I swear!” But now that I’m running for office I’m like, “Yeah, I dabbled in the dark arts.”

· If I learned anything from the latest James Bond movie “Quantum of Solace” it’s that the precious natural resource of water is the ticket to cementing our future status as the world’s sole superpower, so I propose that we invade our water rich neighbor to the north, Canada. Plus, there’s nothing like a good war to stimulate our flagging economy.

· Campaign Slogan. What else could it be: Believe The Captain!

· Contest to name my Vice President! That’s right, I’m going to let one of my lucky readers choose for me. Funniest selection wins. Please submit your candidate along with a brief rationale about why they’d be my ideal VP. Post your entries in the comment section below or email your entry to thefloorcaptain@gmail.com.

Believe The Captain when he says: Believe The Captain!!!

Yours recruiting interns on Craigslist to work my campaign,

The Captain

Journey Through the Mind of a Teenager

I was chuckling to myself after hearing of another Corporate HR Seminar telling us how to live. This one was a workshop on understanding the mind of a teenager; so now corporations that stumble over the simplest problems of right and wrong (don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal) are going to give guidance on human development and the complexities of the human brain as it goes through a rapid and particularly tumultuous transition? That’s like letting my Uncle Al help me with my math homework using his patented “shot glass math” method, which, in all fairness, might have worked but for the tequila.

But as a former Social Worker who ran a shelter for Teens and as the proud and graying parent of two – count ‘em – two teenagers, I am qualified to create a road map for navigating the exciting but dangerous byways of the Teenage Brain. In the name of honesty, here’s what you see below: an article I lifted from the internet describing the parts of the brain. There were better written articles out there, but I really didn’t understand them, so I settled for this one and then wove in my commentary, only this time I did not color code my editorial additions because I wanted to preserve the tone and verisimilitude of a scholarly article whilst injecting the usual drivel, thus achieving an understated irony. Had I written this at 6 AM (meaning there is high likelihood but no guarantee of sobriety), it would have come out more like: I wanted it to sound like a serious article with some ridiculous passages. You can have fun guessing what I wrote.

The Hindbrain

This is the most primitive part of our brain and controls the teenager’s most primal instincts, such as survival, dominance, mating, as well as the involuntary functions like respiration, arguing, heartbeat, and wet dreaming.

· The Spinal Cord

The information superhighway of the brain; this is how you must enter the brain, but be warned: the spinal cord of a teen is the Autobahn of the nervous system – if you don’t move at the minimum speed limit, you could get swept up in a tidal wave of carnal thoughts and crash into parts of the teenage brain where no grown ups should ever get stranded.

· The Medulla Oblongata

Helps control the body's autonomic functions (things you don't need to think about to perform) like respiration, digestion and heart rate and, if I have a vote, arguing. Countless interactions with my teenagers have me convinced that they are never conscious of the fact they are arguing. If I try to convince them otherwise, I am confronted by piercing looks of incredulity. The Medula Oblongata (didn’t The Police have a hit single by that name?) also acts as a relay station for nerve signals going to/from the brain. But be warned that the guy who runs this part of the brain, just like your teen, likes his sleep. And conveniently for the teenagers, he’s always asleep when I ask them to wash the dishes, or do their homework, so that signal is never relayed.

· The Pons

Controls the level of arousal or consciousness and sleep. To move safely through this chamber, it is critical that you traverse it while the teen is sleeping; I once got caught there during arousal and I was like a mouse stuck inside a pinball machine. On the plus side, there are Red Bull vendors and Starbucks at every turn.

· The Cerebellum

Mostly deals with movement. It regulates and coordinates movement, posture and balance. During those awkward adolescent growth spurts, this place is filled with a ton of overwhelmed engineers attempting to run growth calculations on the fly with minimal success. Run the wrong equations and the teen can stub a toe or embarrass himself at a school dance.

The Limbic System

The Limbic System sometimes called the "emotional brain" or "Old Mammalian Brain" is the next brain to have evolved in the more primitive mammals about 150 million years ago. This is where our emotions reside, where memory begins and where these two functions combine together to mark behaviors with positive or negative feelings - in other words, a very dangerous place. It's where mostly unconscious value judgments are made. Information going through the Limbic System is filed under "agreeable or disagreeable". Makes sense. My mostly unconscious teens always think I’m being disagreeable, even when I’m saying “Good Morning.” In the name of fun, I respond by crooning a rather disagreeable version of “You Are My Sunshine,” which means I just sing in my regular voice. It also plays a role in salience (what grabs your attention), spontaneity and creativity. Located in the Limbic System are:

· The Amygdala

Its name is Latin for almond, which relates to its shape (Mom always called me almond brain; she must have been referring to the Amygdala). It helps in storing and classifying emotionally charged memories. Unfortunately, during the teenage years, Amygdala day laborers often go on strike to protest the overwhelming workload, as there is not enough time in the day to deal with the flood of emotionally charged memories that teens produce (on average, one every 3 minutes for boys and one every 13 seconds for girls, a ratio that is reversed for sexual thoughts). It plays a large role in producing our emotions, especially fear. It's been found to trigger responses to strong emotion, such as sweaty palms, freezing, increased heart-beat/respiration and stress hormone release. This is bad news for teens, who produce hormones like a goose produces shite, and who are prone to developing teenage crushes, leaving them to walk around panting and shaking in a feverish state, not the best way to attract a girlfriend or boyfriend.

· The Hippocampus

This guy is all about memory and a little about learning. Its primary role is in memory formation, classifying information, long-term memory. Like the RAM in your computer, it processes and stores new and temporary memory for long term storage. It's also involved in interpreting incoming nerve signals and spatial relationships. This is the one part of the brain with nothing to do in the teenage years. It really doesn’t get busy until its subject gets married and is forced to remember things by its spouse; also, it works overtime during a divorce as it is asked to rummage for useful dirt in all the junk that’s been stuffed in the back of the memory closet for years.

The Hypothalamus

It should be called the Hyperthalamus because it does so much. It's linked closely with the pituitary gland to control many of the body's functions. It monitors and controls your circadian rhythms (your daily sleep/wake cycle), homeostasis (making sure your body is running smoothly), appetite, thirst, other bodily urges and also plays a role in emotions, autonomic functions and motor functions. The original multi-tasker. Imagine trying to balance the appetite and raging bodily functions of a teen in only 12 waking hours. Get that man some Red Bull and Vodka.

· The Thalamus

The Thalamus is THE relay station in the brain. Most of the sensory signals, auditory (sound), visual, somatosensory (from your skin and internal organs), go through this organ on their way to other parts of the brain for processing. It also plays a function in motor control. It’s like Grand Central station at quittin’ time on a Friday.

The Neocortex

The last and most advanced brain to evolve to date is called the Neocortex, neomammalian or rational brain. We share this part of our brain with other higher level mammals like the primates and dolphins, although in humans the neocortex is the largest. It takes up 2/3's of the human brain. This is where we find the brain power to develop language, abstract thought, consciousness and imagination. Let there be no doubt, this is what grants us our status on the food chain and allows us to be human. All I can say is it’s a good thing this part makes up 2/3’s of a teenager’s brain, since teens produce so few rational thoughts.

The Neocortex is divided into two hemispheres, right and left. The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body and vice versa. Also the hemispheres are divided in terms of what kind of thought they process or produce. The right being more concerned with the artistic, spatial and musical, while the left is more concerned with the colder, linear, rational and verbal aspects. Located in the Neocortex are:

· The Frontal Lobe

This is the most recent evolutionary addition to the brain. If the brain had a White House it would be here. It is the true center for command and control in your body. The Frontal lobe is responsible for functions such as reasoning, problem solving, judgment, impulse control. This coupled with the fact that it's the last to develop when we are young adults, probably answers a lot of questions for many parents out there. It also manages our higher emotions such as empathy and altruism. This lobe is also involved in motor control and memory. Way back in the far left corner of every teen’s frontal lobe there is a small black electronic device with a handwritten note attached and four bored looking guys sitting around playing cards. After some inquiry, I learned the identity of the card players. Each was a department head for the Reasoning, Problem Solving, Judgment, and Impulse Control shops, respectively. They explained that the black box was a Brain Wave Jamming Device that made it impossible for them to send the necessary messages to the teen’s body. When I asked about the note, they chuckled wryly and told me to have a look. It read: “Let it never be said that the divine Creator doesn’t have a sense of humor. I have equipped each human brain with a similar box, which is hidden until the frontal lobe of the brain develops at the onset of adolescence, at which time it begins to scramble any brain messages you attempt to send, rendering the teenager a complete ass until such time as the device’s battery dies. Please note that I started installing Energizer batteries recently, so the life of the devices has been extended by 10 to 20 %. This is the real reason that adolescence extends well into the twenties for most young people today. Don’t believe all that hooey about societal influence. I find bungling adolescent behavior funny. Sue me. Oh, that’s right, you can’t; I have divine immunity. Oh well. Yours having a good laugh, God.”

The Parietal Lobe

The Parietal Lobe is involved in processing pain and touch sensation. It's where the Somatosensory (from your skin and internal organs – I swear I slurred/invented this word the last time I went binge drinking) Cortex resides. It's also associated with cognition (including calculating location and speed of objects), movement, orientation, recognition and speech. I couldn’t wait to give the Parietal Lobe Manager a piece of my mind and curse him out for abandoning me in high school in Algebra when I was stumped by all those stupid word problems with the two trains traveling at different speeds; before I could find a solution my trains invariably crashed and burned, along with my grades.

· The Temporal Lobe

The Temporal Lobe is involved in auditory (sound) sensation and is where the Primary Auditory Cortex and Wernicke's Area (language recognition) are located. This lobe is also involved in emotion, memory and speech. It is an utter failure during the adolescent years, since most teens are emotionally stunted, can’t remember to do the simplest things like bathing, handing in their homework, or feeding the animals. Plus, the only volume setting a teen understands is “about to go deaf” or, as so eloquently explained by Nigel Tufnel, legendary guitarist for Spinal Tap, the number 11, because, unlike most Marshall guitar amps which only go up to 10, Nigel’s goes to 11. And who is Wernicke and how come he has a part of the brain named after him? I want them to name a part after me. I’m thinking the Amygdala, because my brain is the size of an almond, my palms are sweaty, and I always had trouble attracting a girlfriend (I blame the sweaty palms).

· The Occipital Lobe

The Occipital Lobe controls visual sensation and processing. The Visual Cortex is resides here. Teen Gamers often have overdeveloped Occipital Lobes.

· Broca's Area

This part of the cortex controls speech, language recognition and facial nerves. Poor Broca has an especially tough time with teenage girls and the constant jabbering and face pulling and eye rolling and death glaring. Who’d he piss off to get this job?

· The Corpus Callosum

This is the neural bridge that connects the two hemispheres to each other, located centrally in brain. No doubt each gender would argue that the other rarely traverses the bridge into the left hemisphere, where reason and rationality prevail. Perhaps the bridge is out, the result of the constant wear and tear of the teenage years. Or maybe Broca finally went off the reservation and blew it up, transforming the Corpus Callosum into the Corpse Callosum, leaving the subject, as my teachers liked to label me, brain dead!

Believe The Captain when he says: If teenagers can think, then pigs can fly.

Yours thinking with my Hind Brain,

The Captain

Revenge of the Macaws

Perhaps there is no greater testament to the vanity and arrogance of humans than the popularity of TV shows showcasing homemade videos of embarrassing and humiliating tricks they force their pets to perform. The poor animals are given no choice and are unable to defend themselves from such predators, so The Captain, steadfast friend and champion of the underdog, is stepping in to right this wrong. I have written a pilot for a new lameass TV show called “Stupid Human Tricks: Revenge of the Macaws.” I will host the show along with a highly trained Macaw parrot, who will provide the color commentary as I parade out a bunch of wannabe reality TV stars who are willing to perform the most ridiculous human tricks just to get their 15 minutes of fame. Here’s the lineup for the world premiere!

· For all the innocent canines who fell prey to their junkie masters and the infamous peanut butter on the bridge of the nose trick, I will parade out an offending crack addict who was involuntarily placed in a detox box for three days (my lawyers assure me the kidnapping charges will never stick) with a packet of crack cocaine duck taped to his back right on the very spot he can’t quite reach with his shaking extremities while Manny the Macaw taunts him with a chorus of “Polly want crack?”

· Next, the 300 pound guy who would regularly shave his miniature poodle and put pink scrunchies on his tail will come on stage wearing only a pink thong and be required to pirouette through an obstacle course of Wendy’s triple cheeseburgers before being allowed to consume them, only to discover that they’re just stage props, punctuated by the exclamation point of Manny asking the audience, “Where’s the beef?”

· We have a special treat for Rufus’s hyperactive OCD owner who forced him to line dance wearing a doggie cowboy hat and stirrups; he will have to do his own line dance wearing only an itchy burlap bag. His partners? A group of Galapagos Tortoises in no hurry to bust a move!

· And as a grand gesture to appease all the poor monkeys who were ever made to dance for organ grinders, we turn the tables and give them each a Wall Street executive dressed as a bell boy, and send them all to Times Square to record them dancing for dollar bills. Manny will visit each CEO and serenade them with a sing-songy “Dance, Bitch, Dance.”

· And finally, Manny gets to star in his own segment; he will parade around the mall on the shoulder of his owner, who will be dressed as Captain Morgan and forced to approach strangers with baby carriages and say things like, “Ahoy, Matey” and “Shiver Me Timbers” until the Mall cops come and arrest him on national TV

Believe The Captain when he says: Be sure to hire extra security whenever you bring in a crack addict as a guest on your TV show.

Yours recruiting one of those hairless dogs to do a segment with Donald Trump,

The Captain

Shiver Me Timbers

Redneck Games

The Redneck Games – What I Learned: A Journey in Pictures

Every year, Rednecks from around the country gather to show their redneck pride by participating in the Redneck Games, which is like the Olympics minus the corporate sponsors and fit and trim athletes. Once again, due to a scheduling conflict (I had plans to shop for surge protectors), I was unable to attend 2010 games in person, but thanks to the modern miracle of technology, I was able to search the web for wonderful photos of this glorious event. Below is my photojournalistic journey into a world I’d hoped had disappeared decades ago: the 2010 Redneck Games!

Here are some little-known Redneck games.

This is Mud Skiing!

For obvious reasons, this sport, known unofficially as Statutory Rape, is a not-so-well-kept Redneck secret.

My personal favorite: Bobbing for Pigs Feet!

Goofy old Redneck Men

(No captions necessary)

Rednecks take to mud like pigs take to shit (I hope that's just mud)

I know! What's she doing with him??

The after-coitus-in-the-mud cigarette - I just pray to God it was with a human.

Like their simian cousins, Rednecks are masters of ingenuity.

Rednecks appreciate creature comforts. Interpret that anyway you like.

Redneck Yacht Club

Preparing for the Fireworks Show

Official Redneck Games Torch!

I always thought that the picture circulating the world wide interweb of the guy playing horseshoes with the toilet seat was staged; but Toilet Seat Horseshoing is apparently a competitive sport and toilet seats are a great for placing your ass...er, I mean ads.

I think she's got a flag for all fifty states and a spare just in case Puerto Rico achieves statehood.

I'd ask where that tongue has been except I'm pretty sure it was on that toilet seat.

So they use plungers for something other than sex!

Come to mama!

She looks normal. What's up with that?

This one's up for a CLIO

Haystacks Calhoun had a love child! Who knew or even thought it physically possible??

Redneck Hotness!!

(I will risk no captions below.)

They start ‘em young; the photographs below answer once and for all the Nature versus Nurture debate. Even the most outrageous human behavior can be nurtured.

(Warning: The images below may obliterate your fragile belief in humankind)

What? No mullet??

God gives each child a special talent.

What's that on the edge of the horseshoe?

Cute little girl in a Condedrate flag bikini - there are just too many mixed messages to address so I'll leave well enough alone.

I had no idea there was so much Confederate flag apparel.

There truly is someone for everyone.

There are no words...

We have this problem up north as well.

Nice bonnet.

Redneck Sandwich

Believe The Captain when he says: the South has little chance of ever rising again.

Yours wearing my American Flag Headband,

The Captain

First Born Off to College

Life is full of milestones, unless, of course, your latest milestone is death, in which case you’re toast; but I’m not dead, in spite of the many wishes to the contrary and despite the numerous forecasts of an early demise by the various unsolicited “professionals” who haunted my childhood – teachers and psychologists and tap dance teachers and the like.

Much to their horror, no doubt, I managed to procreate. And as I write this I stand at the threshold of another major milestone as the first born of my three legitimates is about to go off to college and significantly reduce my goddamned food bill. I admit I’m kind of excited, in a characteristically selfish sort of way. First of all, I’ll be able to afford to buy premium beer again with the money I’m not spending on the red meat needed to satiate the hunger of a 6’ 2” teenage boy. Eldest Son of The Captain (ESOTC) will matriculate at The Catholic University of America (CUA) in Washington, DC, as an avowed atheist and Conscious Homework Objector, who is someone who refuses to do homework on principal, the principal here being it gets in the way of his social life. And yes, like yours truly, CUA uses the definite article in its official name, owing to the fact it ultimately reports up to the Pope, and maybe even the Illuminati or the Free Masons, or some other satanic entity, if the rumors are to be believed.

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, I am looking forward to making the road trips down to DC to visit ESOTC. It’s about time for me to have a mid-life crisis, so the timing is perfect. I can’t wait to see the faces of the kids in the freshman dorm when they see me passed out in the dorm hallway in my Pro-choice T-shirt!! Who better to be an argument for abortion than moi? I’ll drag along my kid brother and our good ol’ boy friend Ron for good measure. I can see it now – three drunk middled-aged men rolling in laughter on the lawn of the national mall. “Look Ron, it’s the Washington Monument!” “No, it’s a giant Phallus!” corrects Ron. “What’s a Phallus?” I ask. “A giant penis!” screams Ron. Uncontrollable laughter follows. Imagine this scene repeated – 12 times, and still funny every time, until the Mall Ranger rudely demands that we move on.

Plus, in case you haven’t visited an institution of higher learning lately, you are in for a surprise. When I was in college, we joked about it being like a country club. Well, today, college is a country club. Even the smallest college will have the following:

· A full service health club and swimming pool, complete with rosy cheeked coeds adorning the pool deck;
· A food court – back in the day we used to have to drive to a mall to find one of these; now you just roll out of bed or pick yourself up off the pavement and you’re there!
· A Starbucks – kids these days actually go and drink non-alcoholic beverages and socialize in places like this.
· Free cable and wireless internet (OK, it’s not free to the parents) so kids can do research on the internet or, after all of their homework is done, view websites for mature audiences; is there a more mature audience than a dorm full of young men fresh out of high school?
· National acts that come and do shows on campus, saving students thousands of dollars in cab fare and bail money.
· A beer caddy and a condom dispenser in every dorm room (just kidding).

But you get the picture. It seems I was born a few decades too soon. But there is one thing that was better in my day – lack of technology. No cell phones to take incriminating party photos and no Facebook on which to post them.

Believe The Captain when says: Road Trip!!

Yours destroying those discolored Polaroids,

The Captain

This was my beer caddy.