Man About Murfreesboro - blog - funny - politics

It was an . . . interesting holiday break. I attended a funeral for Dollie's grandfather, injured my sister-in-law, participated in a rather dissappointing holiday tradition and was, for the first time in years, surprised on Christmas. But let's start at the beginning.

Dollie's grandfather, Hoyt Copeland, was a kind and gentle man. He was always welcoming to visitors and seemed genuinely interested in what people had to say. He was quick with a joke and loved his family very much. He was 90 years old when he died and he left behind a loving wife, a son, five grandchildren and four great grandchildren. He was a veteran of the army and was part of the invasion force that landed on Omaha Beach. In civilian life, he worked at a cement plant for more than 30 years.

I was a pallbearer at the funeral and was honored to have been asked. He will be missed.

Saturday night was the Reed Bros. Christmas. It was my turn to host and I'd really been looking forward to it. We made all the preparations and got the house looking presentable. My brother Scott and his family came and settled in. My mom showed up with Charlie and several armloads of gifts. My brother Dan and his family filed in.

Just as I was making the final preparations for the dinner, I moved a Crock Pot full of white chicken chili to the table. The cord got hung up and the pot tipped over spilling hot chilli everywhere, including on my sister-in-law Tiffany. She jumped up and started yelling. Dan rushed her to the bathroom as I ran to get cold packs and to try and find some aloe vera.

Christmas hadn't even started and I'd ruined the mood. We managed to stumble through the rest of the evening. Dan took Tiffany home and the rest of us ate and opened gifts. When I got a text message from Dan saying that Tiffany was sleeping and that she was fine, I relaxed a little. But I didn't sleep well that night. I kept seeing the pain in Tiffany's face. It was terrible.

As my family was packing up to leave at the end of the evening, I was standing in the yard helping Scott load up. Max trundled out to ask "Papa? Are we going to the other party now?"

The Gann-Smiths were hosting their annual Winter Solstice party that evening as well. I explained to Max that it was rude to mention another party when the guests from our party were barely out the door. When Scott left, I went inside to discuss it.

I didn't feel much like going, but I agreed to because the Gann-Smiths are moving away and the Higgenbothams, who have been living in Indianna for several months, were in town for it. We didn't know when we'd get to see them again, so we went. I was hoping it would improve my mood.

It did, actually. I got to catch up with some old friends. Dollie told most of them about my accident, so they were all very eager to push my buttons about it. It was a great time.

The next day, the Watts' and Badger came over for lunch. After recounting the tragic events of the previous night, we all had a good time. They gave me a very nice gift, which I will put to good use as soon as it warms up outside.

After lunch, Badger and I participated in his annual holiday ritual. It has been a tradition for Badger to do all of his Christmas shopping in a single trip and then finish up by going to Hooters. At the Solstice party, he was complaining that he'd done his shopping, but had ran out of time and therefore hadn't gone. I told him I'd be happy to accompany him and he agreed.

Now, I haven't been to Hooters in years. I don't like the food and I don't follow football. I understand that the food isn't the reason to go to Hooters. I get that. I really do. But staring at cleavage over a plate of crappy buffalo wings has its place and for me it is a low priority.

I drove us there and picked out a table while Badger used the facilities. When he joined me, before he sat down he surveyed the area to make sure he got a good seat for both watching football and gawking at the Hooters girls. Then he ordered a beer, a Hooters Shooter and some wings. I ordered some wings and a diet Coke.

"Since the end of October," I added. "It was a major story in all the papers. No smoking in restaurants."

"Yeah, but this is Hooters," he said. For some reason, Badger figures that if the place encourages some of his vices (gawking at cleavage, drinking beer) then it should have no problem with his others. That is not the case. He went outside to smoke.

The food was terrible and, more to the point, the gawking was subpar. Badger and I discussed this at length as I was trying to get him off the subject of how "stupid" it was that he couldn't smoke in Hooters. Evidently, we came on a day when the b-list Hooter girls were there. Don't get me wrong. They were cute, but as Badger put it, when you go to Hooters, you're not looking for "cute." You're looking for slutty. There wasn't a server among them who wasn't on the IBTC.

Christmas Eve the family and I went to see "Enchanted." Max didn't care for it. Rozzy was enraptured. I thought it was cute. "Cute" works for Holiday films for the family. Not for Hooters.

That night, we went back to Franklin County to Dollie's grandmother's house for a gift exchange. It was a fun affair. The kids played and we all ate too much. It was a frenzy of wrapping paper and avarice. Rozzy's aunt Megan gave her the thing that was at the top of her Christmas want list: an MP3 player.

One hightlight. Max got a back of those Harry Potter jellybeans in the awful flavors. He ate three in a row which combined to form what can only be described as lemon pepper sardines. Eww. Rozzy wanted one and unfortunately picked black pepper. She wandered into the kitchen to eat it and I followed because I knew it wouldn't go good.

I walked in as she was putting her head over the trash can to spit it out. As she finished she managed to bump her head on the kitchen counter. She looked up as tears were forming in her eyes.

"They TOLD ME TO," she yelled. I got her something to drink and got her calmed down for the ride home.

We got home that night and put the younglings to bed to await Santa's visit. Then I spent hours trying to find all the songs Rozzy wanted for her MP3 player.

On Christmas day the kids were all very happy and excited. Rozzy received a digital camera. I'll post some of her her in the coming days. Max got some games for his DS. Dollie got the boots and t-shirts she wanted and I got a new watch.

Dolls had been very coy this year about what she was going to get me and went out one night to Dillards. She came back and said she'd struck out and that I should prepare myself for a "Hard Candy Christmas."

That morning, however, she whipped out the new watch and I was pleasently surprised. Well done, Pookie.

That evening we went back to the theatre so Max could pick a movie that didn't want to make him vomit. We saw "Alvin and the Chipmunks" which, again, was cute. It had lots of great moments, but as we left the movie, Rozzy told me her favorite was when Alvin farted in Dave's face.

I did manage to catch a replay of "Terry Pratchett's Hogswatch" on Ion. It was a very good adaptation of the book. I'd like to see them devote as much or more effort to adapt one of the better novels. At 4 hours, though, you've got to want it.

Unbelievable. The settlement stems from a class action suit against CVS/Caremark for back dating stock options. The company had to pay the legal fees of 23 firms around the country including $7.5 million to some in Nashville. Davidson County Circuit Judge Hamilton Gayden ruled that the local firms deserved the money, but said that $500,000 must be donated to charity. He ordered $400,000 to be paid to the Nashville Chamber of Commerce Public Benefit Foundation to buy Nashville Predators hockey tickets for poor people. The lawyers suggested $100,000 should go to Legal Aid Society to provide the poor with lawyers to handle civil legal issues.

In the interest of full disclosure, I work with Legal Aid Society. They are stellar advocates for the poor of Middle Tennessee. That $100,000 will help them make a real difference in the lives of many people.

My point is that our priorities are out of whack. Why should the Nashville Predators get a $400,000 boondoggle and an actual non-profit law firm that is providing a real service to the poor get a quarter as much.

Reading between the lines, I'm willing to bet the judge in the case wanted the Preds to get the entire half million, but the lawyers baulked.

I am certain that if you spoke with any of the lawyers at Legal Aid Society, they would tell you that they are grateful for the $100,000. Ask a poor person: "Would you rather have a lawyer look into your landlord/tenant issue or free Preds tickets?" "Would you rather have an attorney help you with your social security problem or free Preds tickets?" "Would you rather have a lawyer get you an order of protection from your abusive spouse or free Preds tickets?"

My new commute takes me across the river and past LP Field daily. On the best of days it is slow going. On days when chicken pieces litter the interstate, it's impossible.

Amy Winehouse is what my wife calls a "hot mess." She has drug problems, anger managment issues, zero privacy and a complete lack of any social graces and decorum. Hardly a week passes when we're not treated to a paparazi photo of her on some drunken, coked up rampage in public.

But she can sing, I guess, because she got six Grammy nominations. Which puts her at No. 2 behind Kanye West who got eight.

Rozzy was in her first school play last night. She played a dancing candy cane in "The Nutcracker." The production involved the kindergarden and first grade classes at her school. The held it in the main hallway at the school and, without risers, the audience had to struggle to see. The video was shot by Max, sitting on the floor in the front row, hence the shaky cam and tracking problems. Not a bad job, though for a 9-year-old auteur.

Rozzy has been prepping me for the play for weeks. She told me all about her part, demonstrated her dance and reminded me constantly that she was going to be great.

I left work early so I could be home in time to take her to the show. She was adamant that she had to be there at 5:45. We needed to get dinner beforehand, so we all piled into Dollie's truck to grab some food.

"I know, sweetie," I said. "Right now it is 4:45. That means we have an hour. We're going to get some food, your mother has to drop off a paper on campus and we'll go to the school."

We arrived at Dairy Queen for a quick bite. As we were getting out of the truck she pulled on my arm.

"Do you have your watch on?" she asked. I didn't. I patted my shirt pocket with my cell phone inside.

When we got to the school, Dolls took her backstage for her to get ready. Max and I sat in the audience, which a pretty makeshift. The play was in the hallway at the school with rows of stacking chairs for us to sit in. That meant that the people in the back couldn't see their precious angels galivant. Dolls got the brilliant idea to put Max on the floor in the front row with the camera because there was virtually no chance of us seeing what was going on.

About half an hour before curtain, a woman I didn't recognize came to us and said Rozzy needed her mother. Dolls disappeared for a few minutes and came back.

"I expected to go back there and see her crying," she said. "She just wanted to show me how beautiful she looks."

It was a tough weekend on the pets. Maggie, our oldest cat, died on Saturday. We've had here for about 13 years. We got her before we got married, before we had kids, her death marks the end of a feline era in our home. She and Stewart were our first pets as a family. Other cats have come and gone, but Maggie has been there forever.

Orphaned shortly after birth, Maggie was bottle-fed before we adopted her. She was always the sweetest, most gentle of vicious killers.

For several years, she slept in Max's bed and quietly suffered the mauling of small children who loved to pet her. She was very vocal around other cats, chirping and spitting if they disturbed her, but around people, she was completely at ease.

Max and I buried her in the back yard. She was wrapped in a towel when we brought her to the site and Max insisted on looking inside so he could say goodbye. He petted her one last time, said a tearful goodbye and we put her to rest. I asked him what he would remember most about her.

That's her in the foreground with Stewart in the rear. They're both gone now, but I'm glad I got to know them. Maggie has been an outside cat for several months now due to some bladder issues. Whenever we leave or enter the house, we have to be careful that she doesn't dart inside.

Yesterday, Max and I went to the grocery store. As we carried the groceries inside, I instinctively looked down to make sure she wasn't trying to sneak by us. I think that was when it really hit me that she was gone.

It was also a hard weekend on Speedy, our grey tabby. Dollie closed the truck door on his tail. He screamed loud enough to scare Rozzy. When Dolls opened the door to let him loose, he took off. His tail had a slight bend in it the rest of the day, but by Sunday, it seems to have recovered.

Spent Friday evening with a house full of graduate students blowing off some end-of-the-semester steam. They got a little wild. So, while they sang karaoke and played "Guitar Hero" I sat down with a couple of them to discuss the merits of variuos anime series. I was way out of my element here as I am just beginning to watch some anime. I lamented that my stab-in-the-dark approach at Netflix to finding good anime has led to some hit-and-miss experiences. I really liked "Ninja Scroll" which the two both approved of and snickered because I'd just now seen it for the first time. I liked "Ghost in the Shell" and "Akira."

But if you don't know what you're doing, you can delve into some weird territory.

"I just recently rented a DVD and the main character was a perfume executive by day and a superspy by night," I said, describing the series because I can never remember the titles. "The action was fun, but it seemed like the entire series was based around panty shots. Every woman in the series wore white cotton panties, short skirts and was shot from a low angle." The Japanese can be a very creepy people.

That was the one. I discussed with Megan the fact that when I go into mainstream bookstores now, such as Barnes and Nobel, there are shelves and shelves of manga comics. This ticked her off because she's been a fan for years and back then it was nearly impossible to find a store that carried English translations of Japanese comics. I was reminded of my buddy Seve who was into Prince way before anyone else in Shelbyville was. He had to get a local music shop to special order Prince's music for him. I went with him one day to order "Dirty Minds" on cassette.

Kristin got my DVDs of "Ultimate Avengers," "Ultimate Avengers 2," "Iron Man," "Doctor Strange" and my spare copy of "Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic."

Max and I went shopping at the local Publix yesterday. We were in the frozen food section when a man and woman stopped me to ask a question.

Random Guy:
Excuse me, I'm wondering if you can help us. We're starting a new business and we're looking for a few people who might be looking to pick up some good parttime income or maybe even looking for a career change. Do you know anyone who is keeping their [sic] options open?

Me:
No. I don't.

Random Guy:
Well, what about you? Are you keeping your options open?

Me:
I'm happy with my current situation, thanks.

Random Guy:
Do you mind if I ask what you're doing now?

Me:
I work for an advertising firm in Nashville. It's working out well for me.

I beat a hasty retreat. I noticed that the guy was wearing a polo shirt with a Primerica logo. I've had dealings with these folks before, both as a customer and as a prospective new "business partner." As a customer, their pitch is pretty compelling. They come to your house, look at your finances and offer to set up a refinanced mortgage, pay off debts and set up term life insurance and use the difference to invest in a mutual fund. Then they want you to give them the names of your friends and co-workers so they can "help" them as well.

Dollie and I refinanced our mortgage through them. When rates dropped again and we thought it made sense to refinance, we went elsewhere. That's when we found out that our mortgage set up by Primerica (which is owned by Citigroup) had a $3,500 penalty for paying it off early. My angry letters to Primerica went unanswered.

Several years ago when I was unemployed, I answered a newspaper ad and was called in for an interview. A guy sat across from me and layed out the Primerica business model. He was adept at writing numbers upside down on a pad so that I could read them. Again, his pitch was compelling, but I got the picture that, to make any money, you not only had to hustle customers (and pressure them to give you names of their friends), but you had to recruit new "business partners" who would be paying you a percentage of their commissions.

It stank of multi-level marketing and I passed then. Just like I passed at the grocery store. I am somewhat reluctant to post this because I don't think Primerica is a scam, at least not in the classic sense. They provide a good service to their customers. There is too much emphasis on pressuring you to give them your friends and the frequent callbacks from representatives can get annoying, but you are getting a good product for the money.

There are, however, better companies to work for and with. I'm not comfortable being cold called, much less cold accosted at the grocery store. I've seen some online complaints about Primerica and they fall into two categories: people who suspected it was a scam from the beginning and didn't sign up and people who worked with them for a number of months or years before leaving to make more money on their own as independent financial consultants.

For every "Primerica is a scam" post I found, there was a "Primerica is the greatest" rebuttal. It wasn't always a civil discussion. I will point to one such blog entry because I believe it has some good information with the least amount of invective.

Somehow I missed the news that Evel Knievel died last Friday. I haven't heard about him doing anything in years, but when I was in 3rd grade, he was my hero. I remember the day he was scheduled to jump a shark tank on his motorcycle live on network TV.

At school that day it was all my friends and I could talk about. His jump was going to be the climax of an evening of stunts by various daredevils. It was extremely disappointing to learn, just a few seconds into the show that he wasn't going to do the jump because he'd injured himself during a practice run.

They showed the video of him crash landing the jump. To this day, I remember what a classmate of mine said the next day. "That was a pretty cool jump he did in practice though."

And that's the essence of Evel Knievel. He dressed up in America's colors and did crazy things on a motorcycle. He inspired a generation of children to injur themselves.

I remember that I used to have Evel Knieval hand towels. I got them for Christmas the same year I (like just about every other young boy) got the Evel Knieval Super Stunt Cycle. It is still one of the coolest toys ever.

How do stupid people continue to get TV shows? Not that I'm jealous. I don't want to be on TV. I'd just like there to be some minimum of intelligence attributable to the people who have so much influence over so many.

In the link above, Sherri Sheppard on "The View" insists that there is basically no history before Christianity. That, despite the fact that Epicurious was born more than 300 years BC, he was still a contemporary of Jesus.

It seems like the idea that there was a time before the time of Christ is a threat to her faith. Now I like Sherri Sheppard. She makes me laugh. But this is just ignorant and willful ignorance.

Speaking of willful ignorance, Bush is really treading in some heavy waters since the National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) on Iran was declassified. We've learned that, while the Bush administration has known since last August that Iran has suspended their nuclear weapons program, Bush would like us to believe two things: 1) that no one told him that Iran had stopped seeking nukes and 2) that it shouldn't make any difference in America's policy toward Iran.

The White House spokesmodel is contradicting Bush's own statements.

If Bush knew back in August that Iran had suspended it's program. Why was he invoking the image of WWIII just a week or so ago?

If, as Bush claims, his Director of National Intelligence told him in August that new information had come to light, but not any details about the new information, then why didn't Bush ask for details?

Willful ignorance.

For the first time in 15 years, teen birth rates have increased. Government officials say it's probably a meaningless statistical blip. However, health professionals disagree:

	But several experts said that they have been expecting an increase. They attribute the rise to increased federal financing for abstinence-only health-education programs that do not teach teenagers how to use contraceptives. Some key sexually transmitted disease rates have also been rising, including syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia. The rising teenage pregnancy rate is part of the same phenomenon, said Dr. Carol Hogue, a professor of maternal and child health at Emory University “It’s not rocket science,” she said.

Indeed. It should also be pointed out that teenagers account for only about a quarter of the number of unwed mothers.

My work requires me to keep up with any media hits involving several client industries. Among them are cell phones and railroads. Today, I got the daily double.

Ladies and gentleman, the 1982 Sears Christmas Wishbook and someone with way too much time on his or her hands.

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