Tag: satire

Your home’s underbelly is no place to be manly

image There comes a time in every man’s life when he must set an example for his son by crawling under the house to fix something. This must be done with apparent fearlessness even though he knows whatever needs fixing is going to be located in the darkest corner of the home’s underbelly, probably behind a spider web the size of a commercial fishing net.

Several years ago, I used plywood to seal up the underside of our home and stop what I suspected were nightly “rave” parties hosted by our cat. These parties generally started around 11:30 p.m. and were held directly beneath our bedroom floor, where it sounded like 20 cats playing Twister. Naturally, I had no choice but to break up these parties by getting out of bed and shoving our 60-lb. Labrador headfirst through the crawl space in our closet floor.

My point is this: Sealing things up stopped the cat parties. Unfortunately, it also turned the crawl space under our home into a frightening black void where, thanks to evolution, a species of hairy, sightless, spider-like rodents with large fangs and the ability to mobilize telepathically has nested, colonizing into the hundreds.

Possibly even thousands.

I know this because I’ve shined a flashlight down there and — this is not an exaggeration — I’m pretty sure I saw something move. Continue reading Your home’s underbelly is no place to be manly

In case you’re looking, I moved… The Door

This is my brain on caffeine and AC/DC. See? Nothing.
This is my brain on caffeine and AC/DC. See? Nothing.
I often listen to AC/DC when I’m writing, especially if it’s early in the morning. At this particular moment, “For Those About to Rock” is thundering toward its big finish as guitars, vocals and drums whip the live audience into a frenzy. On most mornings, that — along with coffee, and lots of it — is enough to engage my brain. But the moment I tried sticking the ear phone jack into my left ear canal instead of my iPad, I knew something was wrong, and that even AC/DC wasn’t going to help me this morning.

Some of you know, in addition to being a columnist, I’m also a volunteer firefighter. Though it’s been quiet lately, last night we had two tap outs. The first was at 10 p.m. for a small wildfire that took us a couple of hours to put out. The next call was a structure fire at 1 a.m. that turned out to be a false alarm. Final bed time: 1:45 a.m.

When my alarm went off at 4:45, I put my pants on backwards and slid my feet into my wife’s high heels.

Things pretty much went downhill from there. Continue reading In case you’re looking, I moved… The Door

Don’t push the (belly) button

(It’s Flashback Sunday! That time when we roll up our sleeves and dig into the distant past for something that hasn’t been seen in many years. Sort of like literary proctologists, except without the physical discomfort or awkwardness. That said, today’s Flashback is from 2005, back before I even had a blog because I still referred to going online as “Using the Internets.” The inspiration for this column came from my then seven-year-old son, who became fascinated with putting things in his belly button. I’m just glad that particular curiosity ended there…)

image As with most explanations I find myself giving as a parent, things started with a simple “No.”

In this case, it was: “No, you can’t save chewing gum in your belly button.” My son then countered with the inevitable “Why?”

“Because it’s gross,” I explained, then added for good measure: “What if it gets stuck?”

“It won’t, Dad.”

“It might — so take it out.”

A roll of the eyes, droop of the shoulders. “But why-y-y-y-y?”

“Because I said so.”

Eventually, it always comes down to that answer, which isn’t an answer at all. But for some reason it seems to do the trick. At least it used to. Apparently on this day, my son had awakened a little wiser, and with a better understanding of the difference between battles and wars.

Oh joy. Continue reading Don’t push the (belly) button

Zombie apocalypse or writing world: survival skills are essentially the same

image Before we get to this week’s Nickels Worth on Writing, I have been told by the U.S. Postal Service that sending me your nickels taped to postcards is not acceptable. Apparently, it really messes with the sorting machines, which mistakenly re-direct them to the “Clothes for Miley Cyrus Fund.” So, until we get this figured out, hold on to your nickels; my NWOW is on the house!

Does that mean my advice, gleaned from 15 years as a columnist and referred to by some of today’s most influential writers as “the fertilizer in the garden of writing,” will be any less insightful?

Of course not.

Money or no money, I promise you my weekly advice could not be any less insightful — which is why authors like Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, John Grisham and E.L. James receive this post in their spam email every Friday, and why this weekly feature was recognized by Writers Digest magazine as “One of the few blogs that illustrates, with absolute clarity, why writers such as Hemingway became alcoholics.” Continue reading Zombie apocalypse or writing world: survival skills are essentially the same

… This Just In …

image

…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our newsroom…]

“Who is that behind you? Jesus?” my editor asked, noticing my son’s artwork from several years ago on the wall behind me.

“No, it’s George Lucas,” I replied. “You can raise and lower him with this little tab in the back.”

I demonstrated the Amazing Ascension Action! capability of my son’s art piece. Continue reading … This Just In …

After today, Dick Cheney will probably blow up… The Door

The Door: Guardian of historic journalism; protector of commode privacy...
The Door: Guardian of historic journalism; protector of commode privacy…
It appears Keith Morrison has given up pursuing an exclusive on The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) here in our newsroom. There were no creepy messages from him on my voicemail this morning and, after throwing his back out lifting a water jug, he is no longer posing as an Arrowhead Springs water delivery guy in order to gain access. In addition, we’ve stopped jumping whenever the fax machine goes off now that Morley Safer has stopped sending booty faxes with the warning You Will Crack! written on them.

Yes, things are quiet here; the calm before the storm.

I say that because today’s post will likely put me in the crosshairs of one of the most powerful men this country has ever purposely been made to forget about. In fact, his systematic disappearance after leaving the White House was so complete that I can’t even remember where I was going with this…

Wait! I remember, thanks to this newspaper clipping, which illustrates the importance of The Door, and why journalistic icon Geraldo Rivera has called it “The Al Capone’s Vault of journalistic treasures. No really, I MEAN it this time!” and why rearviewed… oops, I mean revered… journalist Anderson Cooper has referred to The Door as “A revealing look at journalism, depending on who comes out of the commode.” Continue reading After today, Dick Cheney will probably blow up… The Door

NO, it doesn’t bother me my dog has more selfie requests than I do

"To all my fans, especially that little sheltie next door." — Stanley
“To all my fans, especially that little sheltie next door.” — Love, Stanley
Maybe it’s the strong nose. Or the full lips and scruffy grey beard. Or possibly the big, brown bedroom eyes. Whatever the reason, since Saturday’s post, I have been inundated with requests for “full body” shots…

…of my dog, Stanley.

In fact, within 10 minutes of posting a shot of his nose, my dog surpassed the number of “selfie” requests I have received since joining Twitter three months ago. It doesn’t matter my only request came from a spam link to a senior citizens dating website called “Old Dogs Seeking New Tricks.”

What matters is that I have been unable to shake a stalker called “Granny C-Pap.” Continue reading NO, it doesn’t bother me my dog has more selfie requests than I do

Most men will never have to butcher a cow while wearing high heels

Around here, Sunday mornings are for re-living the past. Not in a Shirley Maclaine past-life kind of way, where we talk about cleaning King Henry’s chamber pots or being a samurai who hated sushi. No, we’re talking about Flashback Sunday, when we dig into the archives and pull random newspaper columns or posts from the distant past, back when the followers of this blog could all fit at our breakfast table. And did each morning before school. (Warning: This week’s Flashback includes strong graphic elements, such as the accompanying image of my actual legs in high heels…)

For men like me who will be participating in this year’s Domestic Violence Awareness “Men’s High Heels Walk,” hitting the disco afterwards is strongly discouraged. Really — don’t even think about it.
In preparation for October’s “Walk in My Heels” event, in which men wear high heels to show support for Domestic Violence Awareness Month, my wife talked me into going with her to a fancy shoe store to look for size-12 heels. As I expected, it wasn’t long before women were falling all over me.

That’s because they were all trying on high heeled shoes, some of which were so towering that a special negotiator had to be called in to talk them down. These women apparently loved high heels so much that, once they discovered they couldn’t afford them, chose to end it all by unstrapping their Stilettos and leaping headfirst into the bargain table. Continue reading Most men will never have to butcher a cow while wearing high heels

Learning to accept your dog’s snoring problem could save your life

image At three o’clock this morning I propped myself up on my elbows, removed my ear plugs, looked directly at our dog and delivered the following ultimatum:

This has to STOP.

My wife turned to me and quietly said I’d need to speak up if I wanted to be heard over the dog’s snoring. Admittedly, it was my bright idea to have Stanley sleep in our room. That’s because, when he was a puppy, he was prone to chew up things we might leave out overnight.

Such as the living room or kitchen.

However, at nine years old, his snoring now sounds like a 250-pound man sleeping-off a three-day bender. Part of Stanley’s problem is genetics. Being half Shar-pei, he has a lot of loose skin and wrinkles. He essentially looks like a chocolate Labrador in need of ironing. In desperation, we took him to the vet, who told us that the loose skin around his face causes him to snore.

I’m not sure why he told us this, but I think there’s a good chance Stanley has the same problem. Continue reading Learning to accept your dog’s snoring problem could save your life

Keith Morrison, Barbara Walters and others continue to seek… The Door

The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) is both sentinel of sacred journalistic history, and protector of commode users.
The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) is both sentinel of sacred journalistic history, and protector of commode users.
Since last week’s posting of The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance), I have received hundreds of emails from concerned readers asking if we followed up on the tip, which was about a potential murderer staying at a local hotel, brought to us by a woman who said she heard “murdering noises” from the room above her, and that, as our office girl Misty noted: “I think she was hearing them again while standing in our office lobby.”

And as it turns out, all 358 emails were from NBC Dateline’s Keith Morrison who, like countless other television correspondents, is seeking an exclusive to The Door in our newsroom. It was actually Misty who made the realization that Morrison was behind all the emails when, while checking our general voicemail box, she heard the message: Just checking to see if you got all the eeeemails I sent. This is an anonymous call by the wayyyyy.

“Hey,” said Misty, “isn’t that the creepy guy from Dateline Mysteries?”

So as it stands, The Door remains safe from Morrison, as well as Barbara Walters, Geraldo Rivera, Morley Safer and Anderson Cooper, each of whom has taken a crack at getting the exclusive to what Diane Sawyer described as “An awe-inspiring body of journalism… which reminds me, where’s Chris Cuomo?” Continue reading Keith Morrison, Barbara Walters and others continue to seek… The Door