Necessary

This letter was written 1/11/08.  Three years and 18 days later, I started this blog.  Less than nine months after that, the blog reached 10,000 page views.  I thought it was apropos to share it with my readers on this momentous occasion.

Necessary. I felt like necessary should be the first word in this random act of of literature. It started yesterday as I was driving home. I was thinking about writing in the Italian leather-bound journal I received as a gift last Christmas. I decided I had to write at least one word in it. Something impactful. Something meaningful. What should it be? I settled upon "necessary.” It is both the feeling that I have in my heart, and the one word that has been the bane of my existence. It is the one word that no matter how many times I write it, I can never seem to spell it correctly. That is, until I press F7 on my computer keyboard. Unfortunately, a leather-bound journal does not have spell check. In my most careful and purposeful penmanship, I spelled it out. N-E-C-E-S-S-A-R-Y. I was delightfully surprised when I verified that my spelling was indeed correct.

I have recently come to the conclusion that although I do not get paid to write anything professionally, I am still in fact a writer. I may never be able to support myself financially using the written word alone, but I will surely strive for such a thing. It is no longer just a dream, but I won't go as far as to call it a goal just yet. I choose not to classify it at this point, but I am most certainly headed in that direction. I can't see myself being satisfied with my life's work consisting of 40 more years of being a payroll supervisor. All I know is I spent two hours on Tuesday with my hands hovering over a keyboard and letting words flow freely through my fingers. It was effortless, and I felt phenomenal after I was done. I work between 40-50 hours per week at my day job, yet I felt more accomplished in those two hours. The feeling of accomplishment came from the step I took toward where I truly wanted to be, and not from any successful financial transaction or finished project. I created something, and I want to share that moment with anyone who will listen.

I will need some occasional motivation from my friends and family. But I have learned that when I need it, I should just ask for it. I know who those people will be, and I will call upon them in my time of need. I assure you that I will be there for them as well. We shall see what the future brings. I feel as if I have turned the page, moved on to the next chapter, and possibly even closed the book on the past. Right now, I am just focusing on that which is in front of me. I feel like that is necessary.

U.S. Presidential Slogans: According to D3P

I learned a lot while preparing this list, and researching all the past American Presidential campaigns. After spending too much time looking through archived documents and presidential biographies, I learned that official campaign slogans were not even used until William Henry Harrison and John Tyler came up with theirs in 1840. I also learned what the issues of their eras were (expansionism, reconstruction, economic decline and recovery, etc). Finally, I learned that since the dawn of American elections, they have never really changed much. A catchy slogan and a little pointed jab at their opponent has been an effective norm in American politics. You will find the actual political slogans used in each campaign since 1840 in the list below, and you will also find a D3P suggestion. Some of which have some of that 20/20 hindsight, but most of all, I think they supply a little self-deprecation. And I think we might need a little of that after over 170 of self-aggrandizing and oversimplifying politics. Enjoy!

William Henry Harrison/John Tyler:

1^st Choice: Tippecanoe and Tyler Too.

2^nd Choice: Fall Over in a Kayak and some guy named John As Well.

James K. Polk/George M. Dallas:

1^st Choice: 54-40 or Fight!

2^nd Choice: We've got dibs on Oregon, and a lot of guns.

Zachary Taylor/Millard Fillmore:

1^st Choice: For President of the People

2^nd Choice: We are in favor of those who are anti-against you.

Franklin Pierce/William King:

1^st Choice: We Polked you in '44, We shall Pierce you in '52.

2^nd Choice: Voters just want to have pun.

James Buchanan/John C. Breckinridge:

1^st Choice: N/A

2^nd Choice: Slavery is for the birds. Well, them and white landowners.

Abraham Lincoln/Hannibal Hamlin:

1^st Choice: Vote yourself a farm

2^nd Choice: We plan to buy the farm, do you want in?

Ulysses S Grant/Schuyler Colfax:

1^st Choice: Vote as you shot.

2^nd Choice: A beard you can believe in.

Rutherford B. Hayes/William Wheeler:

1^st Choice: The patriots choice.

2^nd Choice: Hester Prynne got what she deserved! I'm just sayin'.

James A. Garfield/Chester Arthur:

1^st Choice: Let us have peace.

2^nd Choice: Lasagna on the rocks.

Grover Cleveland/Adlai Stevenson:

1^st Choice: Blaine, Blaine...Continental liar from the state of Maine.

2^nd Choice: Cleveland rocks!

William McKinley/Garret Hobart:

1^st Choice: Patriotism, protection, and prosperity.

2^nd Choice: America, assistance, and alliterations.

Theodore Roosevelt/Charles Fairbanks:

1^st Choice: A square deal for every man.

2^nd Choice: I'm going to shoot something, don't make it you.

William Howard Taft/James Sherman:

1^st Choice: Shall the people rule?

2^nd Choice: Obesity for the masses.

Woodrow Wilson/Thomas Marshall:

1^st Choice: He kept us out of war.

2^nd Choice: You know you've got a woody for Woodrow

Warren G. Harding/Calvin Coolidge:

1^st Choice: Cox and cocktails.

2^nd Choice: You just had a Woody for 8 Years, try Harding

Calvin Coolidge/Charles Dawes:

1^st Choice: Keep cool with Coolidge.

2^nd Choice: Shh, you won't like him if he hasn't had his nap.

Herbert Hoover/Charles Curtis:

1^st Choice: A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage.

2^nd Choice: I really hope we don't all end up living in cardboard boxes.

Franklin D. Roosevelt/John Nance Garner:

1^st Choice: Kick out depression with a Democratic vote.

2^nd Choice: My legs don't work, but I'll make sure you do.

Harry S. Truman/Alben Barkley:

1^st Choice: I'm just wild about Harry.

2^nd Choice: Harry is the BOMB!

Dwight D. Eisenhower/Richard Nixon:

1^st Choice: I like Ike!

2^nd Choice: I need a cigarette and a shower, because I love Eisenhower.

John F. Kennedy/Lyndon Baines Johnson:

1^st Choice: Let's get America moving again.

2^nd Choice: Back and to the Left of Conservatism.

Lyndon Baines Johnson/Hubert Humphrey:

1^st Choice: All the way with LBJ.

2^nd Choice: Vote for me, and you'll be fellated.

Richard Nixon/Spiro Agnew:

1^st Choice: Nixon's the One!

2^nd Choice: This administration may be recorded for quality assurance purposes

Gerald Ford/Nelson Rockefeller:

1^st Choice: He's making us proud again.

2^nd Choice: I'm seriously not a crook, I promise.

Jimmy Carter/Walter Mondale:

1^st Choice: Not just peanuts.

2^nd Choice: All I want for this country is my two front teeth.

Ronald Reagan/George Bush:

1^st Choice: It's morning again in America.

2^nd Choice: All in all it's another sledgehammer on that wall.

George Bush/Dan Quayle:

1^st Choice: Read my lips: no new taxes.

2^nd Choice: You say tomato, we misspell potatoe

Bill Clinton/Al Gore:

1^st Choice: Putting people first.

2^nd Choice: Putting people first... especially her.

George W. Bush/Dick Cheney:

1^st Choice: Leave no child behind.

2^nd Choice: These are the Droids you're looking for.

Barack Obama/Joe Biden:

1^st Choice: Change we can believe in.

2^nd Choice: Ebony and Irony

I hope you enjoyed your little trip through history with my twist of humor. Most of all, I hope you stopped at least once or twice to Google a reference or two. If you have a different suggestion, and want to see it proudly displayed above, post it in the comments below.

If you really enjoyed this list and want to learn more. Please feel free to read a book that has provided me with a lot of knowledge and fodder for this list. It is called “Secret Lives of U.S. Presidents” by Cormac O'Brien (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B000HT21EM/). 

 You can also learn more at http://www.presidentsusa.net and http://www.4president.org/.

New US State Slogans: c/o D3P

I'd like to introduce my suggestions for some new state mottoes and slogans.  I think the old ones need a little sprucing up, and who would do a better job than D3P?  It was a rhetorical question, but feel free to shout "nobody" when you next leave the house.  I'm sure everyone will understand you are expressing an opinion about a blog you read, and not think you are a raving lunatic who is arguing with your imaginary pet narwhol.  If you have any suggestions of your own, feel free to leave them in the comments below.  If I find your suggestion to be better than the one I had, then you will soon find it in the body of the blog.  You can check back later to see if you made the cut, and then you can check that item off of your bucket list.  If you don't already have "Be a guest contributor to D3P" on your bucket list, then add it immediately, and begin scheming your way to accomplish such a worthy goal in life.  For now, just enjoy the new D3P state mottoes and slogans.  I know I enjoyed writing them.

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Alabama: We've really toned down our racism, but stay on the main roads (just in case).

Alaska: We can't see Russia from our houses, but we do have other things to see.

Arizona: We really like turquoise!

Arkansas: Bill Clinton was our most famous resident, and our official state beverage is milk. We are the land of bad choices.

California: Making Colorado seem moderate since 1850.

Colorado: California isn't the only state with a hippie infestation.

Connecticut: The only “real” state to never ratify Prohibition (Rhode Island doesn't count).

Delaware: We're still working on an identity.

Florida: Your grandparents live here, so why don't you visit more often?
            "God's waiting room."- Erin Wright Bagley

Georgia: We have Atlanta surrounded.

Hawaii: Want to go where everything is more expensive? Take a really long flight, and find out for yourself.

Idaho: Creating punchlines for sophomoric jokes since 1890.

Illinois: The “S” is silent. Unfortunately, our people aren't.

Indiana: Hoosier favorite state for unnecessary puns?

Iowa: We would merge with Ohio if we knew how.

Kansas: Are you a fan of seeing prisons every 5 miles? Well, you're in the right place!

Kentucky: Bluegrass is kind of like jazz, except it's played by people with less skill and rhythm.

Louisiana: Currently under construction.

Maine: We're not quite Canadian.

Maryland: Do you like crab cakes and rampant street crime? Come to Maryland!

Massachusetts: We haven't burned witches in ages (only flags).

Michigan: Unemployed and proud!

Minnesota: The land of 10,000 lakes and one BIG ASS mall!

Mississippi: More S's per capita than any other state in the nation.

Missouri: It's only pronounced “Misery” if you have to live here, so just visit for a few days.

Montana: Helena is not Joe's wife. It's a real city, with people and buildings too!

Nebraska: We're obsessed with corn, because that's really all we have.

Nevada: We're not just hookers and gambling, we have other stuff too.

New Hampshire: It's just like Old Hampshire, but you know... newer.

New Jersey: Don't believe everything you hear, the whole state doesn't smell like raw sewage.

New Mexico: Take a right turn in Albuquerque.

New York: We keep the Jews in “The City”, and the hicks in the country. It works for us.

North Carolina: Do you know what a Tarheel is? Neither do we.

North Dakota: South Dakota can suck it, we're the “real” Dakota!

Ohio: Baseball is America's past time, but it's the only way to pass the time in Ohio.

Oklahoma: The best thing we can say about ourselves is, “We're OK.”

Oregon: Washington's Mexico.

Pennsylvania: We apologize for anything you experience in Philadelphia, we're working on that.

Rhode Island: Our state is 37 miles wide... in a row!

South Carolina: The 1^st to secede, and still not ready to concede.

South Dakota: What did North Dakota say? Fuck those guys!

Tennessee: The Volunteer State. As in, nobody volunteers to live here.

Texas: Where everything is bigger, except hearts and brains.

Utah: No, you can't do that here.  Try Nevada.

Vermont: We have black people now!

Virginia: Mason Dixon is a state line and a state of mind.

Washington: We're Oregon's Canada!

West Virginia: Just like regular Virginia, but with less teeth.

Wisconsin: Our main interests are beer, cheese and sausage. We'd recommend lighting a match.

Wyoming: Most of our population is far less evil than Dick Cheney. We promise!

Hyper Extended Family

My new Uncle-in-law George lives in a four bedroom house in the Gibsonton-Riverview metropolitan area. His wife Svetlana lives with him.  Their choices in home décor are the only thing in the house that contrast more than the two people themselves. Svetlana is a Russian immigrant and George is a classic Florida Cracker. She looked to be in her late forties to early fifties. She had on a short black house dress and Zebra print headband that held her black curly out-of-control locks out of her face. George is in his late sixties, and has the face of a man who smokes about two packs of cigarettes a day and has spent a number of years washing down his feelings with whiskey and beer. Svetlana works as a “matchmaker” to supplement George’s pension from the United States' Postal Service. He is an all American, and she is living the American dream.

We sat on George's back porch drinking Miller High Life and eating potato chips. Svetlana sat at another table talking to her “clients” entirely in Russian. We couldn't understand what they were saying, and they couldn't care less about what we were discussing. George told us stories about the boarding house for wayward Russians they were running. He spoke of strippers with mob connected boyfriends, mail-order marriages, and an assortment of other goings on that were fascinating to an outsider yet were everyday life to him.

Our conversation was interrupted when Svetlana overheard George use the word “Jew” in a sentence. She immediately joined our conversation and asked what we were talking about. The actual discussion was in regards to Svetlana's daughter; who worked in Washington, DC for a human rights group that protects Jews around the world. Svetlana did not let George finish explaining before she looked us all in the eye and said, “That's fine, just don't say anything about Russian Jews. If you do... I'll kill you.” I did not add an exclamation point to that sentence, because her tone was a plain as if she just asked us if we would like another beer. Needless to say, Svetlana was an interesting Russian woman. Her background in “matchmaking” and her affinity for gaudy home décor aside, she was a plain speaking woman who lacked the ability to understand what was appropriate to say and what was not. I found her delightful!

George had precisely instructed her to prepare the “fixins” for the hamburgers and hot dogs. She was to break up the lettuce into small pieces, cut half an onion into slices, dice the other half, and slice up a tomato. We all understood the instructions clearly, and we though Svetlana did too. After she finished smoking her Capri cigarette, she gripped the red lipstick-stained filter, extinguished it in the ashtray, and was on her way into the kitchen to get started on the “fixins.”

Minutes later I walked into the kitchen to throw away my beer bottle and grab another one from the mini refrigerator that was strategically placed next to the TV. Before I could make it back to the beer fridge, Svetlana stopped me. She waved for me to come closer. I did, but I made sure the kitchen counter still separated us (I wasn't 100% sure I hadn't offended her before). She leaned in and covered one side of her face as if she were about to tell me a secret. My mind was racing with what she was going to utter next. Is there another taboo in this house that could result in untimely death? She finally began to speak, and she said, “I forgot what I was supposed to do.” She shrugged her shoulders while holding a head of lettuce in one hand and a red ripened tomato in the other. She could not remember the specific preparatory instructions George had laid out for her just five minutes prior. I was listening before and reiterated them for her in the kitchen. She thanked me and sent me on my way to the beer fridge and back out to the porch for some more of George's stories. I was happy to oblige. She seemed nice enough, but there was something about her that made me uneasy. I decided not to stick around to find out exactly why.

From there, the night was a bit of a blur. There were more stories of strippers, some of steak, cellulite cream in the bathroom, quail hunting, duck hunting, deer hunting, whiskey, family, and finally of sleep. We had an hour drive back to Bradenton and an important morning task to attend to the following morning. We had to be on our way. I was sad to leave, but ready to go. I would hate for my affinity to speak ill of Russian Jews to slip out, and we all knew what the penalty for that would have been.

The "Real" Fantasy Football

On a recent “guys night out”, I participated in an unorthodox draft session of “Fantasy Football.” Names like Adrian Peterson and Michael Vick were given a single utterence. This can not be said in any other leagues of which I am aware. However, this league is quite different than the ones you can find on ESPN, Yahoo Sports or CBS Sportsline. This league brings back the true definition of fantasy into the realm of fantasy football.

My friend Jake sat in the front seat and asked the question, “Okay, so if you could put together a starting lineup for the greatest fantasy football team ever, and you could pick anyone alive or dead, real or fictional, who would you pick?”

This led to an ongoing conversation of who we would choose for each of our teams. There has been quite a lot of arguing and questions as to what is legal on the field of play. As soon as superpowers were allowed (all except the power of flight), the names of many a fictional character were thrown out in quick succession. Keeping in mind that our league of extraordinary athletes could only fill the standard offensive and leadership positions, it was whittled down quite a bit. My selections consisted of the following:

Head Coach: Professor Charles Xavier- A coaches job is to know what strategy the other team will come up with before they do. This is his specialty. The games against Jean Grey and Magneto will just have to be settled on the field.

Running Back: The Flash- Originally thought of for the wide receive position, but I believe he might have questionable hands. I say, just hand him the ball and let him run with it.

Full Back: Juggernaut- He is the perfect guy to break open a hole in the line for The Flash. And depending on the defensive scheme, he could take on a linebacker to allow my speedy running back a direct line into the secondary for extra yards and possibly even a breakout touchdown.

Wide Receiver #1: Stretch Armstrong- His speed may be suspect, but you can't question his hands. That, and he is made of rubber so injuries would not be an issue. Always a plus.

Wide Receiver #2: Spiderman- Stretch can go across the middle or work the sidelines, so I would need a guy to go up and get one for my team in a 3^rd and long situation. Who would be better than a guy who can shoot webs from his wrists?

Tight End: Superman- You need a guy big enough to pick up a blitz from the defensive end, but also someone who can move the chains with nice catch and run in mid yardage situations. A defensive tackle stunt could be his Kryptonite, but luckily I have Professor Xavier to guard against that.

Kicker/Punter: Inspector Gadget- This one took a while to come up with, but eventually I figured out that his ability to extend his legs and arms would be the key. When kicking field goals, he could just plant one of his feet from seven yards behind the line of scrimmage and push it over the crossbar with a flick of his foot. And he could punt the ball deep inside enemy territory with a “Go-go Gadget” and a little backspin. You'd be guaranteed at least three points for every offensive possession or at the very least, be able to put your opponent in terrible starting field position.

And finally...

Quarterback: Peyton Manning- Never underestimate your field general's IQ and understanding of the two minute drill. Mr. Neo Anderson can learn how to fly a helicopter in a matter of seconds, but the West Coast Offense takes years to perfect.

Update:  With Peyton possibly out for the season, I have chosen Bullseye as his replacement.  He comes highly recommended by Aaron Teare and some random guy at Mi Pueblo mexican restaurant.  You can't beat a guy who is known for hitting any target with deadeye accuracy.  Even though he doesn't have a "Laser-Rocket Arm" like Peyton's.

This is the team I chose. Now, post your ultimate “fantasy team” and subsequent explanations in the comment section below. I'm not sure there is a better team out there, but I challenge you to come up with one. Send this link to your nerdiest, comic book-loving friends and ask them to do the same. Maybe we'll set up a vote and see who truly is the “fantasy” football king. Your move hot shot!

Bradenton Bearded Bike Brigade

Every once in a while, Facebook can be a useful tool. Unfortunately, the same can not be said for Scott Stapp. I've read stories where a child's illness was diagnosed or stolen property was returned as a direct result of Facebook posts and “Friend” responses. Well, this morning I saw a post from one friend to another where they were starting a cycling club with a new twist on the premise. The members must be avid cyclists to start, but they must also be bearded men or female beard aficionados (unable to grow them, but able to appreciate the follicle phenomenon). This club will consist of light bike riding and heavy drinking. They are basically a biker gang without leather jackets, meth addictions or motorized transportation. My only response was “I'm in!”

Rarely does an opportunity present itself that matches all the interests of one man in a simple yet efficient format such as this. Yes, the Bradenton Bearded Bike Brigade (or BBBB) will soon be a two-wheeled force to be reckoned with. It's co-creator and t-shirt designer Erin Mattick was the one who initially posted it on Facebook for my viewing pleasure. When I first was introduced to her by my friend (and her boyfriend), she was immediately dubbed “adorable.” Had I known then that she would be such a great innovator and lady-genius, I would have taken more time and giver her a better moniker. Her boyfriend and future rock legend Jake Freeman is the other co-creator.  He also shares DNA with the woman who accidentally introduced me to the love of my life (Thank you Becca Freeman). This family sure knows how to bring a smile to my face with only a single degree of seperation.

I couldn't help but to envision the future of the BBBB, and what magical merriment it will bring to its members. The onlookers will also be treated to a site for which they never dreamed. I imagined a single-file line of 15-20 bearded cyclists and their lady-friends cruising from bar to bar in downtown Bradenton and beyond. What would the onlookers think? How will these rides pan out? I can't wait to find out, but for now I can only imagine what will ensue.

I can feel the wind flowing through my multi-colored face hair as I think about it. I can smell the fresh air and taste the beer on my breath as we pedal from one bar to another. I can hear the suds forming in my squeeze bottle that will most certainly be filled with a Belgian blonde or a classic American ale. My bearded brethren will surround me as we coast down the street with smiles on our faces hidden by a garden of glorious facial hair. Our wives and girlfriends will flank us as they proudly pedal in tow. The onlookers will see us from afar, and assume that as we come into focus, we'll be the same group of neoprene clad cyclists they always see riding down the streets. Those assumptions will be shattered as we pass by them wearing our black t-shirts and khaki cargo shorts. I'm sure we will be the topic of many a dinner conversation in those households.

The matriarch will say to her husband, “Dear, I saw the oddest thing this afternoon.”

Her husband will inquire, “What was it, honey?”

She'll reply, “It was a group of bearded men and their ladies on bicycles riding down main street. I wasn't sure why, but they sure seemed to be having fun. I remember when you used to have a beard. You were so sexy and you had a certain manly air about you back then. I miss those days. Maybe you should grow it out again.”

Maybe he will grow the beard back, or maybe they will just have the best conversation they've had in years. Either way, they will always remember that the BBBB was the group that brought about such a revelation in their lives. Maybe they'll even share their “Eureka” moment on Facebook and it will spark future chapters of the BBBB to form. We can only hope. But for now, I'm going to continue to not shave my face and start getting ready for the inaugural Bradenton Bearded Bike Brigade ride.

If you're interested in joining us or just supporting the brigade, visit our Facebook page @
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Bradenton-Bearded-Bike-Brigade/150663405011063?sk=wall#!/pages/The-Bradenton-Bearded-Bike-Brigade/150663405011063

Situational Irony: The One I Understand

I have spent many hours pondering the meaning of irony, attempting to identify all things ironic, and Googling articles where someone attempts to explain it and only further confuses me. However, situational irony is easier to understand. The definition I prefer most is this: “a situation where the outcome is incongruous with what was expected, but it is also more generally understood as a situation that includes contradictions or sharp contrasts. . . . An example would be a man who takes a step aside in order to avoid getting sprinkled by a wet dog, and falls into a swimming pool." (Lars Elleström, Divine Madness. Bucknell Univ. Press, 2002)

Okay, so now we are all on the same page with what the meaning of the term is. Well, all of us except Alanis Morrisette, who mistook unfortunate coincidences for irony. But she's Canadian, so that is to be expected. She did have the last laugh though, as her album Jagged Little Pill has sold over 33 million copies to date. I digress.

I like the term and the usage of situational irony, but I have never seen a great real world example of it. That is, until I was watching an episode of Ice Road Truckers: Deadliest Roads. In this show, they have given up the frozen tundra of northern Canada for the cliff-hanging “roads” in the Himalayas. During one of their runs from one station to another, they stopped at a road-side vendor to peruse their wares. It was not specifically mentioned on the show, but I know what I saw, and it sent me into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. The proprietor of the road-side stand used a fly swatter that was adorned with a picture of Buddha to end the life of an unsuspecting fly that settled unknowingly next to the personification of situational irony. Yes, the likeness of the very deity of the religion whose first precept essentially states “do not kill” was painted expertly on a device that's sole purpose was to do just that. At that very moment, I no longer cared about a man who stepped aside to avoid a few sprinkles from a wet dog, only to find himself soaking in a swimming pool moments later. No, I had seen the Mount Everest of situational irony, and I will never be the same.

I wondered if the man who just performed such a deed with an instrument that embodied all that is ironic knew just what he was doing. He obviously had lost his way down the Eightfold Path long ago, and he is as likely to attain Nirvana now as Kurt Cobain was to see his 28^th birthday (too soon?). I also wondered how many other wonderful situational ironies there are floating around in the world. Not the simple ones where wars are waged by people who preach non-violence. That is so 11^th, 12^th, and 13^th century, and I don't like picking low-lying fruit.

I wondered how many Egyptians died of heat stroke while building the pyramids for the Pharaohs. Were they aware of the situational irony of the Sun, one of their main sources of worship, being the catalyst for their demise? Did they pray to Ra with their last few breaths, or did they look up at the burning fire in the sky and think, “well this is ironic?” The answer to that is obvious. No, they didn't. Socrates would not come around for another 1,500 years and explain what irony was. But I'm sure they felt the irony, they just didn't have a word for it yet.

Beyond your religious situational ironies, there are linguistic ones as well. My father has always loved a certain word that is dripping with irony like a man emerging from a swimming pool into which he so ironically fell. The word is sesquipedalian. My father's definition is similar to those of the OED and Webster, but his adds just a little bit more that really drives the irony home. His definition is as follows; a sesquipedalian is a person who uses big words when smaller ones will do. It is generally a derogatory term when it is thrown at someone, but in order to hurl the insult one must use the term. Therefore turning the hurl-ee into an immediate target for for the next hurl-er. I guess it really doesn't fit the bill for irony, but it is still quite a linguistic Catch-22 (and my father's name is Bill, so ipso facto, it does indeed fit the Bill).

While I am on the subject of family stories, I will throw out another family favorite. My sister Erica was on a day trip to the “Happiest Place on Earth” to celebrate her graduation from high school. For those of you not aware, the “Happiest Place” I am speaking of is Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. They have an annual celebration that welcomes students from around the state (and perhaps the country) to let loose and revel after four long years of pubescent torture that is also known as high school. The irony is coming, I promise.

Inside the 30,000+ acre property there are many different parks and recreation areas. One of the most popular areas of the park is called The Magic Kingdom. Inside The Magic Kingdom are several sub-lands. They are Adventureland, Frontierland, Fantasyland, and the subject of this anecdote... Tomorrowland. My sister was celebrating a major milestone in her life (graduating from high school), and in the minds of her and all her friends were thoughts of what the future had in store for them. They frolicked with excitement through Adventureland, they trudged through the antiquities of Frontierland, and they let their imaginations run wild in Fantasyland. However, when they attempted to cross over into Tomorrowland, they were greeted by a sign that would have made Socrates soil his toga. The sign read matter of factly, “We're sorry, the road to Tomorrowland is closed.” That was the message they received from the fine people at Walt Disney World that night. They could have taken it as a cosmic sign to give up their hopes and dreams. Hopefully, they took it as a chance to go home and Google irony. Unfortunately, Google wouldn't be founded for another five years and could not be used as a verb for another ten years after that. Luckily for my sister and her friends, our father was and still is a sesquipedalian, and he could explain to them the situational irony they just encountered.

I hope this commentary was educational, entertaining, and most of all I hope my definitions and understanding of irony were accurate. If they weren't, I blame the following entities: Google, The Oxford English Dictionary, Merriam-Webster Dictionary, Yahoo Answers, Wikipedia, Lars Elleström, Alanis Morrissette, Ice Road Truckers, Canada, Kurt Cobain, Buddha, Ra, Joseph Heller, Walt Disney, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and my father.

The New Official Drink of Diary of a 3rd Person

Two parts vodka, three parts sugar free Amp energy drink, and all parts awesome.  I give you the official drink of Diary of a 3rd Person.  It shall henceforth be known only as D3P Soup!

I Hate to Admit It, but...

I uttered a comment yesterday that I'm not proud to admit, but I am a man of principle and therefore must share. It was in regards to an athlete I have spent the last 5 years damning his name. His name is Tim Tebow. I won't say the totality of my ire toward him has been completely vanquished, but a connection and appreciation for his plight has hit me in the heart like a poorly thrown jump-pass.

Tim is a young man who had the audacity to write an autobiography at the age of twenty-three. He all but admitted to Jon Stewart on The Daily Show that if he didn't write the book now, he could quite possibly miss his opportunity to cash in on his fame. I understand that. His skill set as a quarterback in the NFL does not automatically put him up on the same pedestal on which he was placed while he attended The University of Florida. His fame as a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback at the collegiate level has yet to fully flourish in the professional ranks. There is more than a good chance that he could wash out in the NFL and end up in the same sentence as a Ryan Leaf (the epitome of an overrated athlete) or a Sam Bowie (known best as the guy selected before Michael Jordan in the 1984 NBA Draft). However, his college fame and possible professional downfall aside, he is known also as being a devout Christian and son of missionary parents. That is what the bulk of his new book describes in detail. His interview on The Daily Show was unlike many others I have seen. Jon Stewart did not sit across the desk with doe eyes and ask him easy questions. In fact, he tried to catch Tim off guard a few times. Each time, Tim was quick-witted himself and retorted confidently but without arrogance or stutter. Tim held his own across from an interviewer who has made numerous politicians and self-proclaimed historians look foolish. I found myself laughing out loud (but not LOL-ing) at some of the comments made in the interview, and more than once it was in reaction to something that Tim himself said. Keep in mind, I am a fan of Tim's Alma Mater's #1 rival Florida State University. My admitting that I enjoyed this interview is akin to a Boston Red Sox fan saying, “That Alex Rodriguez fella is a class act” or to take it to the Nth degree, a Palestinian National saying, “Well, I guess the 1967 borders would be a good compromise.” Either way, I have to admit it, Tim Tebow seemed like a nice enough guy in that interview. He stayed with Jon Stewart in both pace and wit, and he never came off as the Bible-thumping prick I called him so many times before (including my comments on The Daily Show's Facebook wall when the interview was announced).

I hate to admit it, but I gained a little respect for Tim yesterday. Don't worry, I still have plenty of room for that respect next to the undying hatred for most other things that hail from Gainesville. Oh yes, I also have the ever sustaining entertainment of a gaff-riddled Sarah Palin to keep me warm at night.

Fisher Price, my first Blog

       I have a voice, and I have two ears.  My voice is outnumbered two to one, so it is a clear underdog in this fight.  Luckily, I have found a way to take what my two ears take in and add my two cents.  Now the sum has risen to five.  I better stop before this gets beyond ten, because it is cold in this room and I don't want to remove my socks. 

       I have been doing more traveling recently, and one thing I have noticed is that there are a lot of great conversations happening in this country.  Unfortunately, I am only able to pick up a snippet here or an anecdote there.  Things like "so I'm at this girl's house and I'm covered in macaroni and cheese" or "I can not believe I spent $10,000 on nipple rings."  At first I found myself saddened by the lack of a punchline or summation, but later I embraced these slivers of conversation as a window to my own imagination.  It was not until recently that I realized how many times I had been a 3rd party witness to such epic conversations.  I found myself telling other people about these stories to which I had been a momentary witness.  But when they asked me how those stories continued, I looked at them blankly.  And when they prodded me for the conclusions, I was left speechless.  It was either stop telling these stories for fear of being called a liar or a tease, or just make up the additional details myself.  I will never stop telling stories, so I stand here before you (not literally, I'm actually sitting right now) a man on a literary mission.  As God, Allah, Yahweh, and the FSM are my witness I will bring you these stories in all their semi-biographical but mostly fictional glory.

       I have had these one-liners saved on my girlfriend's (and subsequently my wife's) voice mail for over two years now.  I have saved some of them on my Blackberry in voice memos and notepads.  I have Post-It notes from work pressed neatly in a steno pad, and I have even saved a few MySpace blogs and Facebook notes on my Netbook for safe keeping.  I eventually asked myself, why am I saving these?  Well, the answer is this.  I was waiting for the right time and the right arena to release these 3rd person gems.  I finally decided one night (tonight) after contemplating hara-kiri, that I was no longer going to wait for my destiny to pass me by.  Like the great stock tip I received and discounted as nonsense, or the great novelty car accesory idea I had and did not patent.  50 Cent's freewheeling Tweets will not ruin my chance to buy this stock at 5 cents and sell at 45 cents in a week's time, nor will the proprietor of Carstaches.com swoop in and market my own idea right under my nose.  No sir (or ma'am), the Diary of a 3rd Person is my idea, and nobody will profit from its mega-success but me.  Except possibly for my friend Karl, as he was a partial inspiration to the name but he will never get more than 5%. My uncle is a very successful lawyer, and despite him being short in stature, he is indeed quite intimidating.

       I hope you all will enjoy reading these fabrications of missing information as much as I plan on enjoying the process of writing them.  You will hear the endings to all those snippets, one-liners, and anecdotes that I have backlogged over the last few years of my travels just as soon as I make them up.  My goal is to post a weekly update.  If you have a chance encounter with one of these morsels of conversation, and think it deserves an ending, send it to me and I will create a story for you.  It will be like one of those "choose your own adventure" books, except it will be better and only I will be making the choices.