Success not INXS

Last evening, I was one of those lucky enough (and I serve that up heavy on the sarcasm) to catch Rock Star: INXS on CBS. Yes, the remaining band members have reunited in a quest to find a new lead singer from the lairs of underground clubs, coffee shops, and, apparently, high-schools and colleges, by the looks of some of the contestants. However, it should be noted that the band insists it is not trying to replace it's former frontman, (the now deceased) Michael Hutchence. Whew, that's comforting to know, because, quite honestly, that would never be possible with this motley crew the band is hell-bent on interviewing.

Am I the only one that finds this entire attempt at television entertainment to be inconsequential from every possible standpoint? Let's be honest here, INXS, as an 80/90s band didn't exactly rule those eras outright. I, for one, even question them deserving a top 5 nod on a best bands list for that time? Somehow, Rock Star: The Cure or Rock Star: U2 seems to carry a lot more weight among today's music fans. But much more obvious, at least to me, is the fact that Michael Hutchence basically was INXS. Can anyone out there really name another band member? And, uh, where's the band been since his death in 1997? Now, almost 8 full years later, the guys just suddenly decided that they're ready to hit the studio again…renewed, refreshed and with a new voice leading the way.

Regardless, the show itself borders not only on ridculous, but even comical. At one point, rocker Dave Navarro, who has managed to somehow earn a supporting role, informs the aspiring contestants that it really is a dream to play in front of a crowd of 100,000 screaming fans. Ok, does anyone really think that today's INXS is nailing down venues of that magnitude? And, I'm pretty sure a new face in the band isn't going to contribute much in that capacity unless old Mikey is somehow resurrected from the great beyond.

Anyway you slice it, it sounds like the I-gang's running out of money fast and this is a simply a scheme to grab a few more bucks, as well as a few hours of primetime spotlight. I frequently hear people criticizing old bands for selling out by lending their music to TV ads or promotional jingles. Well, congratulations, INXS fans, your boys just set a new record in that category.

Crazy in love or just plain crazy?

Never mind the War of the Worlds premiere this Wednesday, there's a different alien grabbing headlines these days: Tom Cruise. By using that term, I'm not making references to the movie star's Scientology faith, but rather his bizarre behavior in the few months that have passed since his relationship with actress, Katie Holmes first became public. I've always been a Tom Cruise fan. His characters have always inspired me, made me laugh and given me the desire to carry the same bold confidence in myself that they display on the big screen. But even the most devoted of Tom Cruise fans has to be a little frightened by his present actions, comments and overall persona. Let's be honest, whoever this guy is walking around representing Tom Cruise is a far cry from the Jerry Maguire we all know and love. So is it really his love for Katie? Is it all a performance meant to drum up publicity for the release of his latest blockbuster? Or, has the guy really gone off the deep end amidst a mid-life crisis? Perhaps the answers to these questions lie inside the events themselves that have brought us to the point of wondering "what's wrong with dear, old Tom". Let's take a look at the timeline…

Late April:
Rumors emerge that the talented Mr. Cruise is dating Joey from Dawson's Creek (let's be honest, that's how most people know her, now isn't it?). Soon, these rumors are squashed with the cold hard truth that, yes the two are in fact a couple. "A couple of what?" is the first reaction many of us experience. After all, last we heard Tom and Penelope Cruz were an item, while Katie was passing time with beau (now former beau), Chris Klein. Besides, Tom's considerably older than she, but love knows no age so we slowly accept the reality of it all. Pretty soon, their mugs appear everywhere, except the outside of a 7-Eleven Slurpee cup. The two are frequently locked together at the lips, as they make no secret about, almost promote, the way they "allegedly" feel about each other. I use the word allegedly, because most of America still finds the entire situation unbelievable. Soon the "publicity stunt" rumors begin to circulate. Skeptics begin inferring that the two are hooking up merely to promote their upcoming Summer blockbusters, which, of course, leads to the first of Tom's many unusual antics.

May 23
Apparently, hearing enough nonsense that he's not truly in live, Tom embarks on a mission to set the record straight by appearing on the Oprah show and participating in a nonsensical, almost idiotic to some, display of his affection for the fair Miss Holmes. Cruise fans breathe a sigh of relief in one regard in that his arm pumps and jerky leg kicks do in fact resemble the old Jerry Maguire we are so used to. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last long, as Tom receives tremendous ridicule by the media for his performance. But, on the bright side, many people now believe that he and Katie are really in love. Well, at least his fellow scientologists.

May 26
Tom decides to implement a ploy to take some of the attention away from his love life by attacking Brooke Shields. He scolds Brooke for using Paxil to fight her depression after giving birth to her daughter. Sure, Tom. Being a man, I'm sure you understand the postpartum experience better than most of us, including women. However, not sure this is the right way to go about promoting your new movie. The comments escalate into an all-out war of words between the two. But, I guess it could be worse. At least he said that Brooke "is an incredibly talented woman". Of course, he also implied that her career was over right after that. Yikes!

Shortly thereafter, Katie Holmes announces that she is converting to Scientology. A Catholic girl dropping her faith to convert to the beliefs of the man she loves. And Tom's calling Brooke Shields weak? Go figure. But Cruise tells the media "the thing you've got to know about Katie is that she's an incredibly bright and self-determined woman. She makes her own decisions." With this, more rumors arise that Tom allegedly insisted that Katie turn down a role in the upcoming "Factory Girls" because she would have played a drug-addicted woman, and he apparently is a practicing anti-drug advocate. Still believe Katie makes her own decisions? Right.

June 17
The couple's relationship takes huge strides as the two become engaged atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Both claim they have never been happier, and the duo celebrates with a romantic dinner for four – Tom, Katie and the parents of his former lover, Penelope Cruz. Now, I'm no Hitch, but don't you think dinner with the old flame's folks is an odd way to welcome the beginning of one's life together. Witnesses say that Katie is rather quiet during the entire meal. Really? You know, that seems strange, because if I were to dine with the parents of my wife's ex, I'm sure I would be a regular chatterbox.

June 19
Just when you think it's safe to turn on CNN again, he strikes yet once more. During a War of the Worlds premiere, Tom is the victim of a local television show prank, getting squirted in the face by a water-shooting microphone. At first he laughs at the incident, but then almost Jekyll-and-Hyde like, he concludes with a lecture for the prankster, publicly labeling the guy a "jerk". Can you just imagine Tom's reaction if he was to ever get Punk'd? Are you listening, Ashton?

June 20
As if it couldn't get any stranger, sources report that Cruise treated actress, Scarlett Johansson, to a tour of the Church of Scientology. Seems everything was peachy until Tom put her on the spot with a surprise dinner invite amongst all of the church's elders. Scarlett finds the entire situation a little too awkward and politely declines, then exits. Well, "exits" is probably an understatement. My guess is she ran like hell once she hit the front door. Apparently, Cruise thought he was playing David Koresh in his next major film and wanted to get a jump on becoming the role.

June 22
Cruise publicly discusses the water-in-the-face incident by stating "There are bullies, people who like to make people feel less and feel bad. Those people need to be confronted. I have never felt something like that is funny." So now, in addition to being a movie star, producer, anti-depressant expert and Scientology rep, Tom is a super hero. Well, I for one can sleep much easier knowing that he will be there to defend me should I be squirted in the face by a gag mic.

June 24
Cruise adds Psychiatrist to his resume as he debates Today show host, Matt Lauer, on the effects of drugs and the human psyche. Lauer claims he knows individuals who were helped by Ritalin, at which point Cruise responds with "Matt, Matt, you don't even -- you're glib. You don't even know what Ritalin is. If you start talking about chemical imbalance, you have to evaluate and read the research papers on how they came up with these theories, Matt, OK. That's what I've done." Wow, this guy just does it all, doesn't he.

That brings us to the here and now, anxiously awaiting Mr. Cruise's next move. To be honest, I, personally, have found the entire journey with Tom to be fascinating. I routinely scan the news headlines each morning hoping that the time bomb we call Cruise has gone off again. But you see, that's just it. As weird as his behavior may be, Tom Cruise is keeping himself at the forefront of the minds of every potential movie ticket buyer out there. Is he doing it on purpose? I don't know. Heck, he probably doesn't even know. But, if it's media he wants, it is working. It may not all be good, but he is still grabbing headlines and, in the end, that will bring people into the theater to see his movie.

Me? Well, I may check it out. I will admit I am a little intrigued. Man vs Alien in one final battle on Earth. You just have to ask yourself…after all of the antics we've witnessed over the past two months…which side of the war is Tom really on?

Character goes a long way

The passing of Lane Smith earlier this week probably went unnoticed by most movie fans, unless of course the obituary you read included a picture of the gifted actor. Smith fell under the category "character actor" - those celebrities who seem to appear in every movie you come across, yet despite the instant recognition of their faces, you just can't seem to recall their names. Over the course of motion picture history, we've watched them come and go, remembered only by those characters whom they brought to life on the silver screen. For the serious movie buff, there's even a website honoring their contributions to Hollywood.

For me, Lane Smith will always be etched into my memory as one of two personas - the lawyer opposing Joe Pesci's Vincent Gambini in the comedy My Cousin Vinny or the small-town father who's life is turned upside down by Pauly Shore's Crawl in Son-In-Law. Still, news of his death got me thinking about some of the other character actors, particularly in today's modern movie era, that deserve to be mentioned for continuing to lend their faces to the big screen knowing damn well that only the most serious of movie fans will have an inkling of their identity. Thus, I present my personal list of favorite character actors (in no particular order):

JT Walsh
The man who epitomizes the character actor. His motion picture career spans 16 years (1982-1998) in which he appeared in 66 films; most notably Pleasantville, Breakdown, Slingblade, Blue Chips, Needful Things, and A Few Good Men. Walsh died February 27, 1998 of heart failure.

David Patrick Kelley
"Warriors, come out and play-e-yay". Such was the haunting chant repeated by Kelley in the 1979 film The Warriors, his motion picture debut. Since then he's made a career out of playing twisted souls, heartless criminals and psychopaths in such films as K-Pax, Last Man Standing, The Crow, Commando, Dreamscape, and, most recently, this year's remake of The Longest Yard. However, he will always be Luther in 48 Hrs., unexpectedly flipping over an opened car door much to the chagrin of Eddie Murphy ("What's happenin', Luther?").

Paul Dooley
Though he never found himself in a blockbuster motion picture, Dooley turned up in over 75 films, in addition to numerous television guest appearances. He's probably most remembered for his portrayal of the father who cared but found it difficult to express that he cared; most notably as Jim Baker in Sixteen Candles and Raymond Toller in Breaking Away.

Jeffery Jones
Jones is a versatile actor with the ability to play pretty much any type of character. You probably know him best as Principal Edward Rooney in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, however, Jones has landed roles in a multitude of popular films, including The Devil's Advocate (in a very creepy jogging scene), Houseguest, Ed Wood, Sleepy Hollow, The Hunt for Red October, and Beetlejuice.

James Rebhorn
With 76 films and a number of TV appearances to his credit, Rebhorn's is a face that you may recognize from such pictures as Basic Instinct, Regarding Henry, The Game, Guarding Tess, Independence Day, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Cold Mountain, and, ironically enough, My Cousin Vinny, with Lane Smith. Personally, I'll remember him best as Dr. Larry Banks in Meet the Parents.

Honorable Mention:
Wallace Shawn
Ronny Cox
John Kapelos
Ed Lauter
Bruce McGill

Today's service is a disservice to us all

Customer service is everywhere these days…news headlines, company missions, corporate boardrooms, sales philosophies, store signs and policies, and, my favorite, infomericals. Unfortunately, the one place I am seeing less and less of customer service is at the point of sale. Oddly, one would think that might be the greatest area of focus. However, from mini marts to department stores to specialty shops, the growing trend of employees who could care less what the customer wants or needs is growing rapidly. I used to think it was just because most businesses opted for part-time teen-age associates in order to alleviate high payrolls and to avoid incurring the cost of benefits. But, I'm not so sure anymore, as I've seen my share of poor service experiences involving adults of all ages, races and creed.

So what's the problem here, America? It doesn't appear to be an impossible problem to rectify. It's common courtesy in a workplace format. And, if we can't figure out that simple equation by ourselves, there must be at least a thousand experts out there who can help us see the light. At least it would appear that way given how often I see a new perspective on the topic turn up in the local bookstore. In fact, during one recent visit to Borders, I made a point to peruse the Business section where I came across such titles as Indispensable: How To Become The Company That Your Customers Can't Live Without, Super Service: Seven Keys to Delivering Great Customer Service...Even When You Don't Feel Like It!...Even When They Don't Deserve It!, Coaching Knock Your Socks Off Service, and Hug Your Customers: The Proven Way to Personalize Sales and Achieve Astounding Results (although that last one would be a little awkward should a store employee elect to apply it on me). Unfortunately, the people writing these books, as well as the managers reading them, forgot to pass the knowledge on to their sales staff. If they did, I wouldn't have some 17-yr.-old kid roll his eyes at me because I've apparently inconvenienced him by asking which aisle the Cocoa Puffs are in, therefore taking him away from his daily ritual of doing nothing.

So are we just lazy? Has our culture become so automated that the mere idea of assisting someone else seems ridiculous despite the fact that one may be getting paid to do just that? I have no idea. What I do know is, we, as customers, are just as much to blame because we take it. Nine times out of ten I bet a person who gets bad service from a store either shrugs it off and moves on with his life OR states "I will never go back there again". The latter of which is usually forgotten the next time he is in dire need of diapers for the little one, and, despite his previous encounter, the local Kmart is not only close but the least expensive in terms of price (and, no, for the record, I do not have anything against Kmart and its service…or lack of). Maybe we need to push the envelope on poor service and report these incidents. Perhaps call the employee out face-to-face or via a tete-a -tete with his manager (in which we, of course, adamantly express our displeasure with the service provided). At least you can return home knowing that you exhausted all means in your power to set the situation right. And, if that isn't consolation enough, I guess take comfort in the fact that you won't have as much pride swallowing to do when the time comes for you to return to the store for those diapers.

Some stars occupy too much sky

It appears our favorite motion picture personalities believe their monopoly of the big screen, and the millions in profits they reap from the industry, just isn't enough to support the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Nope, now they're strategically plotting to corner the video game industry, as well. An article posted in Yahoo! News this morning explains how the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) and American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA) just struck a deal with the video game industry that will increase actor/actress profit by 36% when said “movie star” lends his or her voice to a game. But wait there's more. Just when you're thinking that such demands represent the epitome of greed, we find out that the “stars” in question actually wanted profit-sharing or “residual payments” from the game industry, but were denied this request and, therefore it seems, took what they could get. One passage in the article states “The unions, which said they struck the deal with reluctance, vowed to continue their bid to win payments for actors for each game sold.” Well, sure, let's be certain they can tap into whatever money bucket spills their way just for uttering a few lines here and there. Guess that extra stash is for the sore throat doctor bills that our celebrities are bound to incur during the voice-over process.

So on top of A-Rod receiving $252 million over 10 years (you do the math for his annual salary), T.O. demanding a new, more lucrative, contract on top of his current $49 million one, Tom Cruise getting $25 million+ per picture (even despite his recent performance on Oprah), we now have this. What's next? Scott Peterson raking in a cool $100 million for selling his story to a publishing company? I'm sure it's already in the works in some board room across the country. Given the crude reality of these ridiculous antics, I gotta believe the end of the world is upon us. Honestly. I mean, aren't some of these things biblical signs for Armageddon? I'm ready to grow a beard, go unbathed for a couple of months, grab a sign and walk the streets muttering “the end is near”. Anyone care to join me?

Send in the clones

Over the years, I've heard people high and low utter the infamous words “I wish I had an extra set of hands”, in reference to their efforts in multitasking all the things that adorn their proverbial “plate”. Ironically, these people are usually parents. But, I gotta admit, the thought of possessing four hands is quite intriguing. I could enjoy the luxury of starting dinner with one pair while the second pair conveniently helps assemble my 2-yr. old's wooden puzzle. And, just think how fast you could get through the supermarket during the weekly grocery shopping excursion. Not to mention how interesting sex might be. Still, among other things, I am troubled by the cosmetic consequences, such as where exactly these new limbs would attach without an extra set of arms to hold them. Thus, I think there is an easier, more productive way to combat all the things we as Americans are forced to do as part of our daily rituals…cloning.

Yes, that taboo topic that seems to continue making headlines every day since a lamb named, Dolly was successfully cloned in 1997. And, the controversy that began around that same time is just as strong today, as well. But think about it? How much could you benefit by having another “you” around to help out? Off the top of my head, I can think of some great ways my clone, whom I'll affectionately refer to as Scott, Jr. (personal retribution, since I refused to name my son that) for this blog entry, could make my life a little easier. Here are just a few…

Lawn care. Right now I pay some guy $30 to take a few layers off my front and back lawn each week. To escalate the fact that I'm basically giving away hard-earned cash, he doesn't even edge every week, but rather every other. I'm sure Scott, Jr. could admirably replace said service and it wouldn't cost me a dime in the process. I hope he doesn't mind pulling the weeds while he's at it, either.

Babysitter. My wife and I would love to get out more often, just the two of us. I'm sure I would find ample comfort in leaving the kids withÂ…well, me, basically. Are you going to tell me that a 2-yr. old and 3-month old will be able to tell the difference? Please.

Work. You know those “mental” days we all need to take from time to time? Scott, Jr. could certainly afford me more of them, without my workload missing a beat. I certainly wouldn't have an issue with taking in an afternoon ballgame down at the CoPa or spending some additional time with my family while Scott, Jr. labors away on the laptop in the old office cubicle.

Family commitments. Now don't get me wrong. I love my family. I love my in-laws. I love spending time with all of them (plus, they're all probably going to read this). But, from time-to-time, there are those events for which I just cannot muster up the energy nor the excitement to attend. In these instances, Scott, Jr. could pinch hit for me without Mom, Dad, Sister-in-Law, possibly even my wife (I'm kidding, honey), knowing the wiser. Besides, everyone needs some “me” time now and then. In this case, everyone involved gets some “me” time, if you think about it.

Socializing with Neighbors. I am often sidetracked from my outdoor agenda by neighbors who apparently don't realize that I am out there for a reason. With Scott, Jr. around, I can send him out front as a coversational decoy while I sneak out back to accomplish the mission I set out to achieve.

Jury duty. For those of you who have served, I don't need to write another word. For those of you who haven't, try it, then get back to me. Until then, you wouldn't understand just how much Scott, Jr. would help in this capacity.

I'm sure there are a couple dozen other ways that this whole cloning scenario could do wonders for my busy life, which is why I am all for it. Some say it is immoral. Some say it is dangerous. Some, like our current President, George W. Bush, imply that the world might be worse off in a cloning society. Funny he should take that stance given the fact he's been trying to make everyone like him since he was elected. I say…hogwash. Maybe I'm being a little selfish, as the benefits for me truly outweigh any costs to my direct exposure with society, but so be it. You know, a former boss once told me that he “wished he had a hundred others like me”. Which just goes to prove that I'm not the only one out here who's in full support of having a few more Scott Counsells in the world.

The grass is always greener in the neighbor's yard

Ah, summer. A rainbow of blooming flowers, the warm sun on your face, the scent of delicious barbecue filling the evening air, and, of course, the continuous task of trying to keep your grass from baking brown in between the all-too-rare rainfalls. Yes, it's that time of year again. And, over in Shelby Township, MI, the challenge is compounded by the fact that only inches below the surface of sod and dirt lies enough sand to make Miami Beach look like a child's sandbox. Yes, in dear old Shelby, one watering a day is not nearly enough. Nope. Because one watering lasts only a few short hours into the day until, once again, the ground returns to its hay-like texture under the penetrating rays of the sun. Now, if I was in the business of providing feed for horses, I'd let this issue go without another thought. But, unfortunately, I'm not in that business. And so the dilemma begins…

Is a precious green lawn really worth the price one pays, both monetarily and mentally, to get it to, and keep it at, such a state of landscape nirvana? Now, let's think about this rationally. What is the primary reason one makes the effort (and also eats the cost) to ensure his lawn basks in lush green color, as opposed to the awful spectrum of brown and yellow? Is it personal satisfaction? Probably not. Is it for the lawn's own health? Doubt it. Is it because we want our family to have the luxury of prancing on soft blades of forest green fluffiness. I really don't think so. So what is it then? Simple. It's plain, old social acceptance at its finest. Don't believe me? Look down your own street and carefully scan the lawns of each residence. Most are decent, some exceptional, but when you come across that one house featuring the dreaded crop circles of dead growth, what happens? You know the one I'm talking about. The house in which you immediately find your thoughts wandering somewhere in the direction of “Oh, my. Who lives there? Don't they realize how awful that makes their yard look?” or something similar in rash judgmentent. Fact is, no one wants to be that house. Well, no one except the neighborhood retiree living alone, void of any visits from his children and their families because they would rather spend their time at Disney World or the time share in Fort Myers than hang out with some old guy in the dead heat of a Michigan summer, and, therefore, who just doesn't give a crap about the way his lawn looks like anymore. Oh, come on, every block has one. But, you see, that guy has an alibi for neglecting the upkeep. The rest of us, we don't have that luxury, Nope, we can either choose to spend our children's college tuition in the form of good old H2O for the lawn or face the ridicule of our nosy neighbors. For myself, this presents a lot of unwelcomed peer pressure, not to mention some wacky antics at the Counsell homestead. For example, just this past weekend, we put our daughter's flailing arm Octopus sprinkler out in the backyard for her to run through. In setting it up, I made a conscious effort to strategically place the unit in an area of lawn that was severely lacking in green. Then, as if that wasn't pushing the obsessive envelope enough, when my daughter decided she didn't like the unpredictable spray pattern of our eight-armed friend and abandoned any idea of getting within 10 feet of him, I elected to let the big guy continue raining down as he performed remarkably better than any oscillating sprinkler I've ever owned.

So, again, I ask the question: Is a precious green lawn really worth the price one pays, both monetarily and mentally, to get it to, and keep it at, such a state of landscape nirvana? In my eyes, absolutely not. I mean, I could care less if my lawn is bright green or just dull green, especially if it means saving some of my paycheck for more important things like my family and upgrades to other, more permanent, parts of my home. But, unfortunately, in today's society, we are more often than not forced to look at it from our neighbor's eyes instead or our own. Because the truth, whether we want to believe it or not, is that we need their acceptance in order to feel as if we belong to the community in which we live. Being the outcast, though independent, is not very comforting, particularly when you're constantly under the scrutiny of the same people you face every time you step out the door of your house

So, it is early June now, and I figure the summer will rage on full force for another 3 months. On the bright side, that's just 12 more weeks, 90 more days, 2,160 more hours and 129,600 more seconds of coping with the “should I/shouldn't I” watering dilemma…once a morning and once a night. And, you know, when I break it down like that, it doesn't seem so bad. But, then again, I haven't gotten my first water bill yet. Oh, well, the kids didn't need to eat anyway, right?

In defense of the offensive

ESPN's website, and, for that matter, practically every other site that carries a standard sports section, is posting a story today about the San Francisco 49ers and their very recent fallout (like, yesterday) with the city, and other community leaders, due to a proprietary team training video. Apparently the video was created to help prepare players deal with the media. Unfortunately, this lesson seems to have gotten lost amidst the racial jokes, topless women and gay/lesbian references that adorn the tape's footage. Yeah, I can turn on CNN and hear about all that crap any time during the day, but it appears any other form of media featuring such content is an outrage to society. I guess the tape even features a skit involving the team's PR director, Kirk Reynolds, poking fun at the Mayor (Gavin Newsom) via impersonation. Come on, Gav, isn't imitation the sincerest form of flattery?

I don't mean to make light of such a “serious” issue, and I am by no means condoning such behavior. But, come on, people, it's a freakin' video with some off-color material. It's not like, uh, say, just hypothetically, someone shot a couple frames of our military soldiers senselessly beating Iraqi prisoners. Now that should get some attention. But, this? This is just one stupid mistake by a guy who thought he was using the right tools to teach his players a valuable lesson. Look, I'm a corporate trainer myself, and I truly understand the complexities of trying to find the right mix of training tools to reach everyone in your audience, as we all learn differently. Kirk Reynold's audience, in this case, was a 50+ group of men, ages 21-40, jacked up with adrenaline and dripping with testosterone…gee, who would have thunk that boobs, insults and comedy skits might not be the best way to reach them.

My point here is that we, as a society, have become way, way too extreme in our reaction to the things that we find offending, AND, we can't seem to settle on a universal list of the subjects that are offensive, AND when they are offensive to us. It seems to change by the second. Are racial jokes offensive? Some will tell you, yes. I say it depends on the audience and who's telling the jokes. Chris Rock can stand on a stage in front of thousands, use racial slurs and we think it's funny. But, if it turns up in a training video, all of a sudden it's a travesty. Do topless women offend me? Not one bit. They may make me feel a bit awkward depending on the situation, but offensive, nope. Others may find a pair of exposed breasts entirely offensive. I understand that. I empathize with that. But I don't think the owner of those breasts should pay for her consequences just because half the crowd is screaming “nay” while the other half is chanting “yay”. Is it disrespectful and ignorant to ridicule someone just because of their sexual preference? Absolutely. But, I've witnessed people facing ridicule because of their weight, hair length, clothes and general appearance, but no one seems to have a problem with that (except for the person being ridiculed, I assume). As soon as gender, race and sexual preference are mentioned in such context, the entire world stands still until those instigating the issue are brought to justice.

How many of you have sat in a private room amongst friends and participated in the sharing of an off-colored joke? I'm going to bet the majority have. I have, I can admit it. Doesn't mean I'm a bad person. Doesn't mean I'm a racist. It just means I enjoy having a few laughs with my friends. Now, let's add another element to the equation. The joke in question refers to an Asian person and one of my friends in the room is Asian. Is the joke still OK? Depends. It depends on a number of things. How is my friend's sense of humor? Is he easily offended by such references? Does he tell jokes about his race? And, so on. But ultimately it depends on how well I know my friend as to whether or not he will be offended by a joke. Unfortunately, all of us do not know each other so well as to determine whether or not content is acceptable at a given time. Which makes it tough on all of us. Perhaps, in such situations, it would be smart to elect silence over risk. For instance, if I were to meet my friend's family for the first time, I highly doubt I would tell the joke that was shared in that room full of friends.

In defense of Kirk Reynolds, he knew his audience, he knew what they were able to tolerate, and he proceeded as he saw necessary. That tape was meant for the San Francisco 49er players. It was never meant for the city, the Mayor, the gay/lesbian community or the media. Had it been, I very much doubt that the content would have been the same. Just like I'm sure that if you and your spouse videotaped your own intimate adventures, you wouldn't be shipping it out to the local news station for the 6:00 headlines. Some may say Kirk Reynolds made a mistake. I say the only mistake here is that the world continues to judge “the other guy” for his actions, rather than accept people for who they are, mostly human, and move on even if you don't agree with that individual's actions. Accepting diversity is really the only path to harmony amongst each other. If you continue to get up in arms about every little thing that someone else does that is not in line with your theory of the way the world should be, the world is going to continue being what it is…rich with ignorance, hate, intolerance and a lack of respect for all living things. And, to me, that's more offensive than any videotape could ever be.

Lyrically Challenged

Just the other night I came across a Dockers commercial that featured, what most might describe as, a “cute little ditty” playing in the background. What these people do not understand is that the said “ditty” is actually the jovial rhythm to a song called This is the Day, made popular by 80s artist The The (who is actually one man, Matt Johnson) from the album Soul Mining. Though I was appalled at the fact that the band had fallen so quickly to the bottom rung on the success ladder that it needed to sell its musical soul to a major pants manufacturer, I couldn't help but returning to my days of youth when the tune was a common beat playing through my home or car stereo. Ironically, this is one of the first songs in which I took special interest in the words, and upon which I graduated into that arena of lyric translation that I value so much today.

For those of you unfamiliar with the tune, I've included the lyrics below…


THIS IS THE DAY

Well, you didn't wake up this morning because you didn't go to bed
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red
The calendar on your wall is ticking the days off
You've been reading some old letters
You smile and think how much you've changed
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days

You pull back your curtains
And the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying
Across a clear blue sky
This is the day
Your life will surely change
This is the day
When things fall into place

You could've done anything If you'd wanted
And all your friends and family think that you're lucky
But the side of you they'll never see
Is when you're left alone with the memories
That hold your life together ... like glue

You pull back your curtains
And the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying
Across a clear blue sky
This is the day
Your life will surely change
This is the day
When things fall into place

This is the day your life will surely change
This is the day your life will surely change
This is the day your life will surely change
This is the day your life will surely change


For me, the song has always represented one man's struggle to let go of the past and embrace the future. The bouncing tempo sympathetically empathizes with his fluctuating emotions on a day when he will leave the bachelor world behind and dive head first into marriage; knowing that never again will his life be the familiar routine that it has been. As he prepares for this next step, he can't help but reflect on the journey that brought him here, wondering if the path he chose was the right one.

For years I've stood by that interpretation, even arguing my point to those who perceived a different meaning in the words. However, last evening, my wife opened my eyes to an entirely new possibility. Her theory is that the song is about an individual facing a new chapter in his life, but that this “next big step” is different for each listener based on what he is currently experiencing in his own life. For example, my wedding interpretation was established when I was a bachelor; perhaps my reason for translating the lyrics into a such scenario as that would have been a major change in my life at the time, complete with doubt and reservation. If I had given more thought to the song after I got married, I may have considered that the lyrics might refer to a man who just welcomed a new child into the world, but is feeling insecure about his new father role. And, so this cycle progresses as life moves on.

Unfortunately for me, this theory makes all too much sense. So, after 20 years of believing in one meaning, I have no choice but to relinquish that faith and latch on to my wife's theory. And, while that doesn't bother me from a pride standpoint, as my wife is a very smart woman, it does make me realize one thing: I am no Sherlock Holmes when it comes to decoding the meaning behind lyrics in a song. And, that my friends, is one truth that really does hurt.

Character Flaw

David Addison. You might remember Bruce Willis' character on the hit 80's sitcom "Moonlighting"? I was 16 years old, struggling to discover my true identity (not to mention burdened by the typical angst you would guess a 16-yr. old from the 80s might experience) and longing to be just like David Addison. Every Tuesday night I would tape the current episode. And, I'm not talking about VCRs or DVDs. No, sir, I'm talking about my boom box, a cassette tape and the continuous stress of encouraging my family to communicate only during commercials. Needless to say, they all became rather adept at lip reading and hand signals. But, I had to capture every quip, every sarcastic phrase that left the lips of Mr. Addison so that I would later be able to play back the tape, practice, and eventually deliver the same lines, with just as much impact (or so I thought), to my friends who were not as familiar with the show. Ok, so most of them had never even heard of it. But such is the life of obsession. Then, in 1990, my young life met tragedy for the first time, as the 5-yr. Moonlighting run came to a bitter end. Thus, I packed up my box of TDK 90-min. HD cassette tapes and appropriately dispensed of them in the nearest garbage can leaving behind my slightly insane, but entirely heartfelt, commitment to becoming a David Addison clone.

So, it is in that brief, yet frightening peek into my teen-age years, that I bring this question to the surface; and, no, the question is not whether or I am sane, but rather, what is it about fictional characters – TV, film or novel – that attracts us? Do we just find them cool and think, “hey, wouldn't it be great to be that way"? Or, is it that in happy-ending Hollywood, those characters always wind up with the things we want most in our lives, but currently lack? Perhaps they just simply strike some incomprehensible chord in that place inside our heads where the "I like me"/"I don't like me" battle rages on? I'm not sure. What I can tell you is that once that proverbial obsession magnet's is in your system, it's hard to shake it free.

Just found that out a few months ago when Fox announced its latest ER-inspired drama series "House" (of which I'm a huge fan, just for the record). Right from the pilot's opening scenes, I knew I was headed back down that road of identity crisis which imprisoned me 20 years prior. I'm older now, so obviously my resistance was much higher, and I managed to cruise through the first couple of episodes without any noticeable change in behavior. But, inside, I knew I couldn't hold back forever. It started small, as I found myself throwing out House lines, or "Housisms" as the show's faithful call them, when the right situation presented the appropriate use of such chatter. Shortly thereafter, it turned ugly, as I caught myself frequently daydreaming to the tune of "How would House handle this situation" whenever faced with crisis or a matter of confrontation. The final straw was when I began walking with a cane, a tribute to the ailment endured by the show's lead character. Actually, I'm kidding about the cane. Just wanted to make sure everyone was still paying attention. As fortune would have it, these split-persona tendencies were generally proceeded by a disappointing "Great, I'm 16 again!", as I slowly tumbled back into the land of the living, guilt-stricken, of course, realizing that 37-year old men don't go around pretending to be television characters. At least not the ones who are free to walk the streets amongst the rest of us. It was those conversations with reality that eventually led to my character-envy salvation, as I freed myself, my soul, from any further desire to be something I'm not, and made a solemn vow to take more enjoyment in who I actually am. So, while I'm no David Addison or Greg House, nor will I ever be, I like to think that I am an inspired “Planet Earth” version of both, and, for that matter, every other fictional character out there who has ever had an impact in my way of thinking (or behaving). And, in my healing process, I've come to this conclusion, and, ironically, my answer to the question posed earlier in this entry. Simply, we find in fictional characters the mirror-opposite qualities that we, ourselves, possess. It's similar to the old adage “We always want the things we cannot have.” But, for the few lucky ones, like myself, we eventually come around and realize that although “you can't always get what you want”, “if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need” just by being yourself.

Why Bo Bice is your next American Idol

Before I dive into the true purpose of this article, I'm going to give you a few seconds to release those giggles from your system over the fact that I actually follow American Idol. (brief pause) Ok, are we ready to continue? Good. Now I've never been one to place too much weight in so-called conspiracy theories, particularly when it's nonsense such as Princess Di faked her death to retreat happily into isolation or more currently, the Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes relationship (come on, you can just see they're in love…smirk). However, when it comes to the nation's favorite reality TV show, I have to admit that I'm a little skeptical of the results thus far. Now, for the record, let me just say that I have nothing against Bo Bice as a musical talent. Truth be known, I've been pulling for the guy ever since America made its commitment to relieve Constantine of his contestanal duties (even though I'm fairly certain that contestanal is not a real word). But, the fact that he is one show short of being the AI05 (that's American Idol 2005 for the acronym impaired), does suggest that perhaps his gender and race alone make him the natural choice in a society that makes every effort to avoid discriminatory actions, particularly in the media. Let me explain. The circle of Idol winners has followed an obvious (well, obvious to me, at least) pattern since the show began four years ago. Year One: Kelly Clarkson, Caucasian female. Year Two: Ruben Studdard, African-American, Male. Year Three: Fantasia Barrino, African-American, Female. Year Four: Bo Bice?…you fill in the remaining details. Everything's fair. Everyone's happy. And, more importantly, the show can easily refute any discriminatory claims that may pop-up, simply by referring those naysayers to its own past. While I'm sure that Bo Bice fans are probably cursing me for even thinking the unthinkable, some of you may also agree that I do have a point. And that point is, television is about making money. The way networks make money is by getting people to watch their shows. And, even the slightest hint of a topic so controversial as discrimination can affect the future of the show. Even one as big as American Idol (just ask Paula Abdul). So, when you sit down to take in the Idol finale on May 25, you have a choice. You can go on believing that the final tally is a direct result of you and every other Idol faithful that is willing to drop a small fee into the phone company's pocket in an effort to make your voice heard. Or, like me, you can take it with a grain of salt, and enjoy the moment for the sheer entertainment value alone. And, while you're at it, drop a few bucks on Bo in the latest Vegas line. I hear he's getting 2 to 1 odds.

Is it just me?

Am I the only guy out there that is struck with indecision when faced with the choice of tall urinal or short urinal upon entering the men's room? As an adult, I'm probably naturally supposed to run with the tall, but there's always something appealing about that pint-sized option. Perhaps I'm just putting too much thought into it, but one wants to be sure they're pleased with the real-estate when it comes to something so important. Don't you agree?

Popo Loco

Apparently, poverty, drought, disease and low mortality weren't enough to keep the good people of CHAKE CHAKE, Tanzania in line. They now must cope with the sexual hunger of the Popo Bawa, and apparently, have had to live in fear of the creature for a long time. According to a Reuters news article, the Popo Bawa, officially defined as a “spirit-monster” stalks the island's inhabitants in the dead of night, preferably when the unsuspecting parties are indoors. Reports indicate that it takes great pleasure in sodomizing its victims, leaving them cold, paralyzed and amidst a foul odor. Sounds more to me like a one-night stand with Marv Albert than a mythical monster, but, hey, I've never been involved with either. Some alleged victims have even declared that the Popo Bawa temporarily enlarged their heads or expanded their jaw openings. Ouch!

Popo has managed to go unseen since the inception of his legendary career, however, the ill effects of his presence have left a lasting impression on villagers. It has become so intense that a large percentage of the population has turned to sleeping outdoors in an attempt to tame the wild entity's vigorous libido. I'm betting that Popo's ex-wife had to use the same tactics at one time or another given this guy's sex drive.

Ironically, Popo seems to take a page from American politics. Not just because he enjoys sodomizing the tax payers, but also that he's much more active during an election year than any other time. Nonetheless, whether or not Popo can sway an election's results in one direction or the other remains to be seen. Personally, even though the Popo Bawa does not seem to have a preference in political parties, I think this could be an ace in the hole for someone come the 2008 election. I'm not sure how big a deal voting is in Tanzania, but I'm fairly certain that Rock The Vote and highly-publicized campaign trails are not prevalent in that community. Thus, old Popo might consider seizing this opportunity and get a little more bang for his buck (no pun intended) by taking more creed in America's vote. I mean if Barry Bonds can hold the media hostage over a leg injury, imagine what Popo could demand in air time. Maybe it's just me, but if someone can convince this thing to relocate, I'm thinking he can put the Democrats back in the White House. Just a hunch.

iBlog: What's on my iPod right now…

I see these passages all over the Internet now, most involving celebrities. So, I thought I would provide the world with some more useless information, the kind of stuff that one can forget as quickly as the words are muttered, and present the music that is currently thumping through my iPod. My collection has always been a richly diverse mix of personal favorites and family-inspired selections (primarily my daughter's need for Dora the Explorer or Sesame Street ditties), and, thankfully, these fall under the former category, as opposed to the latter. So, without further adieu, here are the “hot” tracks that my ears just can't live without…for the time being, of course:

“Begin” - Ben Lee
Unintentionally came across this on satellite radio on the ride into work, and I immediately had to have it. I downloaded it from iTunes as fast as I could get the application launched. It expresses everything about new relationships in which neither party is sure of where the other stands. It's always easier to give up on a relationship due to fear of it failing than it is to invest it what can be. Ben demonstrates the courage more of us should gamble on when we've found a person that just “does it” for us.

“Collide” - Howie Day
One of my favorites, perhaps all time. The innocence of one being conscious to love as it develops before his eyes mixed with the common fears we experience when faced with taking that plunge and risking heartache.

“Vindicated” - Dashboard Confessional
I love the selection of words and their poetic alliteration.

“Overkill” - Colin Hay
Acoustic version of the Men At Work classic. I've always loved this song, and the “Unplugged” cover seems to highlight the voice talent of the band's former front man.

“I Will Survive” - Cake
Does any band out there do better covers than these guys? Really.

“Stop Crying Your Heart Out” - Oasis
Haunting. First heard it during the closing credits for The Butterfly Effect and I haven't stop listening since (it was a rental).

“Hear You Me” - Jimmy Eat World
Another one off the “Butterfly” soundtrack. Not sure what grabs me about this song, but it gives me goosebumps.

“A Pirate Looks At Forty” - Jack Johnson
Brilliant! A cover version of the song, for which Jimmy Buffet is best known. One of those to which, for some reason, you feel a connection. Jack is fast becoming one of my favorite artists.

“100 Years” - Five for Fighting
My wife loves to share this one with my 9-week old son. How can it not make the list?

“More” - Bobby Darin
Call me sentimental. This is the song my wife and I shared our first dance to as husband and wife. I originally selected it because it sums up, in a nutshell, how I feel about her.

There you have it. The most popular tracks today according to Scott Counsell's iPod. A little juvenile, I know. But, still fun. For me, at least.

Drew Rosenhaus is an ass

Perhaps Jerry Maguire slightly tainted my perception of sports agents, but I don't think I'm too far off by saying that Drew Rosenhaus is a complete idiot. For those of you who don't know the name, Rosenhaus represents star NFLers Terrell Owens, Javon Walker, Anquan Boldin, Plaxico Burress, Santana Moss and about 80-90 other gridiron heroes. Coincidence that all the aforementioned players are WRs? Possibly. But, I don't think it's coincidence that all of them have been or are currently involved in contract squabbles with their respective team. Last evening on ESPN, I managed to catch Dan Patrick interviewing the intolerable Mr. Rosenhaus (lucky me, huh?), and not only did he fail to offer any respect to Patrick, who I deem one of the cornerstones of the ESPN network, but in the process he also came off looking like a total jackass. His frequent references of “buddy” to Patrick, not to mention that arrogant smirk, suggests to me that, while he may know a thing or two about draining dimes from owners' checkbooks, he doesn't understand a damn thing about professionalism.

Case in point, Rosenhaus went as far to imply that the NFL would be in shambles without the presence of sports agents. That would be like me explaining to my employer that the company would be in shambles without trainers (for those of you who don't know me, that's what I do for a living). Sounds good. Sounds credible. But, it just ain't true. Then, when asked about his prediction on T.O.'s contract, he guaranteed that the two sides would come to agreeable terms before training camp opens in August. Hmm, really, Drew? Just like your Yatil Green guarantee in '99? Here, let me refresh your memory, “I'm fully confident that Yatil will definitely make it back from his two knee injuries.” Sound vaguely familiar? Oh, and where is Yatil now? Exactly.

Let me just say, I'm all for athletes getting paid what is deemed fair value for their services. Hell, I'm for anyone getting that same deal. After all, being a pro athlete is a job, just like being a trainer is a job. Where my “coping” level takes a hit is when an athlete, better yet the athlete's agent, negotiates a multi-year contract and a year later wants to re-negotiate or draw up a new contract just because his client had a banner year. What, the agent didn't expect his client to improve over the course of a year? And, where does it end. Should an athlete be afforded the opportunity to ask for money every year? If so, then why do the leagues have contracts? Let's just toss them out the window and replace them with Pay Increase Request Forms. Give owners an Approved stamp in one hand and a Denied stamp in the other. Think of the wonders that process would work for eliminating long contract discussions and getting guys into camp on time. In the words of the Coyote, “genius, sheer genius.” Anyone have Paul Tagliabue's number?

Oh, my, how they change us

Even before I became a father, people used to tell me how much kids change your life. Friends, co-workers, my sister…even my parents (although I still firmly believe their motive was some form of reverse psychology encouraging me to actually take that plunge). Hell, I'd even come across the message in TV ads, magazine articles and the random Pampers or Huggies coupon inside the Sunday paper. But even when one enters into fatherhood armed with all this information, you soon realize that you never really understand just how true it is until you actually experience it. Now, a two-year veteran in Club Daddy, looking back I can distinctly identify all of those things I currently do that I would have never been caught dead engaging in prior to having kids of my own. Here are just a few of the better examples:

• Eating off the same utensil that your little darlin' just drooled all over while attempting to eat like a big girl.
• Willingly accepting a bite of your child's half-eaten fruit (or worse a food like ice cream or bread that only moistens faster when combined with the saliva of a small human being) because that tiny, magical smile far outweighs the horrible mushy feeling in your mouth.
• Allowing your child to throw up all of your sweatshirt just so she won't get any on the floor.
• Learning that baby poop on the hand is not the most horrific event one can experience in his or her lifetime.
• Freely engaging in public baby talk, knowing very well that while you may look like the “cat's meow” in your child's eyes, you sound like a complete idiot to everyone else.
• Singing out loud to Elmo's Song with the windows down while cruising to daycare.
• Getting teary-eyed every time you listen to Bob Carlisle's Butterfly Kisses.
  
• Finding more satisfaction in buying new things for your kids than for yourself.
• Discovering that staying up late and sleeping in are truly overrated when compared to the satisfaction of rocking your child back to sleep after a 2:00 a.m. nightmare.
• Accepting the fact that the next 18 years are going to cost you money, freedom, your patience, and, more than likely. the color of your hair…early. But, knowing that what you're getting back in return is worth it all.

It's funny, all of those people I mentioned earlier, the “advice” people, in spite of all their warnings, when it came down to it, they all held the same opinion about being parent, and that is “I wouldn't change it for the world.” And, now that I've been through it all myself, you know what? They were absolutely right.

Auto DVD…friend or foe?

Last Friday, my wife and I began our new lease commitment, locking ourselves into a 2-yr. contract on a 2005 GMC Envoy with all the fixins'. Sadly enough, in our two futile attempts to “shop” for a new vehicle, our only requirement was the DVD entertainment system. But somehow, our sales agent (who shall remain anonymous) managed to load us up with leather interior, XM satellite radio, moisture-sensored wipers, and even the headlight wipers with, what we're told, a spray range equal to that of a Super Soaker Flash Flood Blaster. And who says American consumers are gullible? But the real prize, the gem that sealed the deal, was the DVD player. Why you may ask? Let's just say it was the primary tool in our plan to regulate our 2-year old daughter's energy level during those lengthy trips to daycare, grandma's house and any other journey that involved more than 20-minutes of sitting time inside a vehicle.

Which brings me to the main question here, and that is “Is an auto DVD player really a parent's gift from heaven or a corrupt brainwashing tool from hell?” I know, I've heard the arguments. The experts who claim television leads to obesity, poor eating habits and a lack of exercise in kids. And, while I do agree, that hefty doses of the “boob tube” can negatively affect the developing minds of our little ones, does that same evidence also apply to a 20-minute taste of Dora en route to the local Farmer Jack? Perhaps. But perhaps the real problem lies in our own hands, the parents. Now, I admit, in the four days that we've had this crazy gadget, my wife and I have been more than liberal in allowing our daughter to participate. After all, two eyes frozen on a 12x15 screen sure beats a struggling, screaming toddler. But, I also see our new little toy as more of a novelty right now than a long-term behavioral tool. I mean who wouldn't want to use an auto DVD player if you've never had one before? Hell, I'm tempted to escape to the garage, hide out for a while and take in a few hours of “National Treasure” when the household turns chaotic. But, I know better. Just as I know better for my kids. In a week or so, we'll tighten the reins on the traveling television access and return to the familiar lyrics of “Rubber Duckie” or perhaps just engage in a good parent-child conversation on the way home from daycare; relying on the DVD only for those severe episodes when our toddler behaves more like the Frankenstein monster strapped to an operating table than the sweet little girl she really is. And, eventually, our daughter will grow accustomed to this pattern, as well, and ease up on her requests for “Meet Diego” or “1-2-3, Count With Me”. Because, in the end, it really does come down to the parents, and this is just one, of about a million incidents I'm sure, where we have to put our parenting skills to work in order to ensure the best for our kids. After all, there are plenty of ways for kids to become obese, eat poorly and not exercise. In my mind, parents who do not take an active role in monitoring their children's life are at the top of that list.

The stronger gender? It's no contest.

Over the past eight weeks I've been more aware of wife's contributions to our family than I ever have. Now, I don't mean that as an insult or even to imply that she doesn't usually contribute (on the contrary it's quite the opposite). It's just that, until now, I don't think I ever realized just how much she actually does on a daily basis. You see, in those two months, she's been home, on maternity leave, with our newborn son, and, on more occasions than what I'm sure she would have preferred, our 2-year old daughter. A daughter that's anchored into the “terrible twos” in its purest, and most severe, form. During that time, I've watched her try on every possible “hat” I can imagine: mother, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, sister-in-law; not to mention the less glamorous homemaker, chef, laundry master, grocery shopper, dog trainer, and even alarm clock (thanks, honey…6:30 gets here awful fast). Between the late-night feedings, diaper changes, and the wash and spin cycle of the washing machine (or dishwasher, take your pick), I've come to realize the one fact that first came to me following the birth of our daughter, and the marathon labor event that preceded it. And that is, women are definitely the stronger gender. Now, I know I was cast from the old boys' club the moment those words slipped past my lips, but come on, guys, it's true. Let's take a look at the facts:

Childbirth. Sorry, ladies, had to put it first. Not because I'm chauvinistic, but because, in my opinion, it is the one act that (a) men can never truly understand, beginning to end, and (b) one act I'm confident, given the choice, most men wouldn't even elect to try. Think about it, guys. Do you really want to carry, what amounts to, an extra limb around your waist when it doesn't involve mass consumption of beer? Didn't think so. Not to mention raging hormones that often made my wife behave more like Margot Kidder on one of her manic-depressive episodes than my loving companion. And, the capper, no alcohol for nine months. Yes, N-I-N-E months. No way, no how, not for me. So which of you guys wanna sign-up for this little adventure, huh?

Family and home. I know most men, myself included, like to believe we are king of our castle. Master of our domain. The mighty leader who always has the answers, doesn't panic in crunch time and keeps things running on a smooth schedule. I know, it's a man's dream. It's my dream. But, unfortunately, it's just that… a dream. Women take that role, as subtle as they may be about it, and just naturally run with it. And, they are effortless in maintaining it. Kids, pets, organization…they make it look easy. I know that if it wasn't for my wife, our house would run more like an understaffed daycare center who's cleaning crew just quit, than the semi-well-oiled machine it is today (sorry, nothing's perfect, babe).

Balance. I think women must attend a secret class sometime in their early years that teaches them how to balance all aspects of their life in complete harmony. Fact is, my wife never seems to get rattled by the occasional curveball that slides into our lives, while I seem to turn into Woody Allen at even the slightest sign of change. Unexpected bills (and unexpected amounts, too), home repairs, sick kids, layoffs at work. Women seem to welcome the challenge, find a solution and move on without a care. It really is quite impressive to observe.

I'm sure I could go on providing evidence to support my argument, however, this gender issue will continue raging on regardless of what any of us believe. Decide for yourselves. I relinquish my role in the battle both confident in my stance on the topic, and comfortable in my manhood. Call me “whipped”, call me a trader, call me crazy if you like. To me, it's more important to give credit where credit is due than to engage in such foolish machismo, letting my testicles form my opinion for me. Even more importantly is the recognition of my wife and what she means to our family. To be sure that she knows her efforts do not go unnoticed, though it may often appear that way. She is truly the rock in our nuclear family tree, and for that she has the highest respect and reverence from her husband. So, thanks, Moe. Not just for the warm meals, clean shirts, packed lunches, clean floors, fed dogs/cats, and everything else you do. But just for loving your family so much as to take the time from yourself to do all of those things for us.

I see dead people

I ran into two, count 'em, two funerals on the way back from lunch today. Isn't that some kind of omen? I mean all of us get caught in that random domino line of funeral inspired vehicles at one time or another, but twice the fun in one lunch hour? The only positive I could take is in watching the idiocy around me as various onlookers attempted to plot out a route that might carry them through the light and beyond the procession without actually interrupting the services or making them appear as a total ass to the rest of us. Needless to say, no one succeeded.

Drive-thru lament

Just hit the Arby's drive-thru at lunch. Why don't they ever ask if you want the sauce? Horsey, Arby's original, I don't care. I just don't have the required 16 ounces of saliva in my mouth that it takes to burrow through a dry Arby's original. Now, shame on me, I forgot to ask for the sauce. but come on, the sauce question should be a standard tool in the drive-thru attendant's arsenal of order requisitions. Am I out of line here, or are fast-food establishments failing us, the customer, in this regard?

Ballpark rant

The Cards Mark Grudzielanek hits for the cycle in a 6-3 win this afternoon. What's amazing is that it only took him 4 at bats to do it, and he bagged the triple to complete it. This is the second cycle in this just the fourth week of the 2005 baseball season, as Brad Wilkerson accomplished the same feat a few weeks ago.

Hmm… must be the juice. In fact, this just in, Canseco claims he injected both their asses in the clubhouse during batting practice prior to the game. Somebody check the Balco list to ID these guys. Better yet, how about a restraining order prohibiting Canseco from coming within 50 ft. of a major league baseball stadium between April and October. I smell another congressional hearing on the agenda…

What's the deal with Dora?

Over the past 6 months, my 2-yr. old daughter has become completely enamored with Dora the Explorer. As a parent, I'm entirely supportive of educational television, of which I truly believe Dora does subscribe. I mean she's learning new words, in Spanish no less, among lessons in sharing, kindness, helping others…even being a new sister to our 6-week old son (courtesy of the latest DVD release, "Big Sister Dora"). However, as a human being, I naturally feel the instinct to remove Dora from the innocent cartoon nirvana in which she currently resides and toss her directly into a real world perspective. In doing so, I've come to the conclusion that "reality" Dora may just not be the role model I want for my daughter at such an impressionable age. Let me break down my analysis for you:

Let's start with the fact that this kid doesn't have any friends other than a silly simian who goes by the name of Boots (a direct correlation to the large red boots he dons for his adventures with our girl “D”). My first instinct is to lash out at the parents for their failure to recognize that their daughter's sole source of companionship is a monkey in human's clothing. Does anyone else think a play date might benefit this poor little girl? Maybe a few Gymboree classes at the very least? No offense to monkeys, even talking ones, but the kid's gotta acclimate herself to other humans at some point if she ever expects to function in society. A few episodes later, however, I come to terms with the fact that parents can't choose their children's friends, but only encourage them to run with the right crowd and cross their fingers that their kids happen to actually be listening during that particular lecture.

Fair enough. So we can't lay the blame of “choosing the wrong friends" on Mami and Papi. But, we certainly can fault them for the fact that this poor child NEVER changes clothes, The kid's always running around in the same top and shorts, bracelet wrapped around her wrist and backpack securely attached to her shoulders. And a talking backpack at that, who always seems to have the resources Dora needs at any given time. You would think old backpack might include a pair of jeans and a sweater, so the poor kid could do a load of laundry or something, Now, I'm not trying to lecture, but Child Services would have a field day with this sort of thing on this little plane I live on called Earth. But, apparently animated Mexico doesn't have a problem with such accolades.

This little "fashion" scenario is only compounded by the fact that the kid tours the entire continent without a trace of adult supervision. And, we're not just talking Cancun or Playa del Carmen. This kid's been up and down mountains, through jungles, across the sea, to Fairytale Land, and even up to the North Pole. I don't know about you other parents out there, but I would have a hard time letting my kids run to the corner 7-Eleven without an agenda, a number I can reach them at and an idea of exactly when they're going to be home.

Let's recap, shall we? No human friends, one set of clothes and a curfew that rivals that of teenage prostitutes, And, that's just scratching the surface of our little adventurer. As we journey deeper into her psyche we discover a single, common theme across all episodes…this gal has an undying need to be the sole source of help for everyone who's path she crosses. Now, maybe it's just me, but a 7-yr. old kid who always has the best interest of others? I don't think such a thing exists, even on Noggin. This kid spends more time helping others than the Make-A-Wish foundation. Somebody needs to introduce her to Barbie, Bratz or American Girl before she has a nervous breakdown prior to even scratching the surface of puberty.

Finally, is there anyone out there who knows an adolescent who's always happy? Now, my two kids are still relatively young, but I do have cousins, even friends and colleagues, with older kids, and I can attest to the fact that 7-yr. old kids are not happy kids. Moody, confused, frustrated, curious, challenging …maybe. But, happy? I don't think the word's even in their vocabulary at this point. Perhaps I'm looking at it a little differently than all of those other parents currently held hostage by Dora, but does anyone else keep waiting for this kid to lose it in one of these episodes. I mean, too much happiness can be devastating to a 7-year old, can't it? I'm thinking a tantrum here and there, talking back, fighting…something. The jovial level of this kid's personality is way beyond normal and, in my mind, she's headed for a hefty fall somewhere along the way. I can't help but feeling that Swiper is going to pay big time one of these days.

Now listen, I could probably go on forever, paragraph after paragraph, listing the shortcomings of Dora as she exists today. You know, break down her childhood, possibly reveal that she's lacking a true role model, or delve into the secrets that she really hides inside her backpack, But, honestly, what's the point? My daughter, like millions of other little girls out there, has been hooked and reeled in by this Dora enchantment, and I'm just along for the ride; and the occasional funding of a new video or toy, for that matter. But, who cares, right? In a few years, Dora will be replaced by Barbie, and I'll be posting a new entry here in support of anti-barbieism. Claiming that the anti-christ has assumed the form of a 12" female with all-too-real anatomy and ridiculously good looks.

For now, that smile on my daughter's face when the Dora theme chimes into our TV is enough to convince me that the cartoon world and the real world were never meant to co-exist. One represents everything that we wish upon our children, while the other…well, I guess the other represents those things that we should expect in today's day and age. For me, I think I would be okay with my daughter choosing a path somewhere inbetween the two. Close enough to reality for her to become the women she wants to be, but, never too far from that imaginary world where she'll always be two, innocent and daddy's still the apple of her eye.