Customer (Dis)Service

There’s a formula that is used in the business world. Now, if you’re an MBA and you went to business school, you’ve probably never heard it. You were too busy learning other “valuable” skills like:

1. Chapter 3: Which Doughnuts and Coffee Your Secretary Should Order for the 9:00 Meeting
   
2. Lecture: Proper Etiquette for Public Blackberry Use (No handhelds in the lecture hall, please)
   
3. Advancement 202: How To Simultaneously Pat Someone On, and Stab Them In, the Back
   
4. Symposium (billable and tax deductable): Designing Effective PowerPoint Slide Shows
   
5. Delegation Exercise: Choosing the Right Team of Consultants
   

And you probably spent at least a week learning how to hide the Jamaica “conference” expenses in your operating budget. There just wasn’t enough time to teach you anything useful or relevant.

In case you haven’t been to business school and you don’t have $100K to throw around, I’ll save you the time and money. Here are the answers.

1. Krispy Kreme doughnuts and Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Never the other way around. That’s just silly. What were you thinking? Fire your secretary immediately.
   
2. There are no rules. You have a Blackberry; that makes you more important than everyone else. Screw them. Text away, whenever you want. If anyone says anything to you, use “The Glare” that you learned in your first semester and go back to your conversation or your email.
   
3. Smile a lot and shake hands. The smile lulls them into a false sense of security, and the handshake holds them so they can’t escape.
   
4. Who cares? Nobody’s watching anyway. Besides, it’s not your problem, because your admin assistant is going to do all the work. Let her figure it out. She’ll have it all tested, edited, and spell-checked before she hands it to you to present to the Board. (Of course, you get to take all the credit.)
   
5. The “right” team is the cheapest team. They’re all equally useless. Consultants are the IT equivalent of MBAs.

Anyway, here’s the formula:
If a customer has a bad customer experience, they will tell 10 people. If they have a good customer experience, they will tell 2 people.
Don’t look at me, I didn’t come up with it. But I’m going to bust the curve right here. I’ve had one very bad customer experience and one very good one in the past couple of weeks, and I’m going to post both of them here. Hopefully at least 10 people will read it. If not, I'm pretty much wasting my time typing all this, aren't I?

First the bad. (Then we can end on a positive note, or maybe just because I want to bitch about someone first.)

I have Comcast cable Internet, and the service comes with McAfee Security Center free. Yeah, that should tip you off right there; free. A few weeks ago I was prompted to upgrade it to the newest version. The installation seemed to go all right, but then I started getting errors a few days later. The automatic update of the virus definitions wasn’t working. I kept getting a popup message telling me to reinstall the whole thing. I tried to reinstall it a few times and it would time out, saying that the site was unavailable.

First I tried the online help for McAfee, no luck there. I tried the online chat and they told me that they don’t support Comcast customers and that I had to contact Comcast. OK, fine. I’m not actually paying for it, so I understand that they don’t want to waste their time on freebies. So I called Comcast. They told me that I’m supposed to call McAfee. Now, I wasn’t born yesterday. This appears to be “the runaround.”

This time I called McAfee on the phone and got transferred to about five different people. Finally I got to the customer service people and they told me that I can’t download the updates because my account had expired in 2006. Ummm, no. Nice try, thanks for playing, but no. Like I said before (and to every person on the phone) I am a Comcast customer and McAfee is free with my Internet service. It doesn’t expire. But they said that I couldn’t do anything until Comcast “renewed” my license. OK, Comcast’s turn. Tag, you’re it.

I called Comcast back again and told them what McAfee had told me. The guy started laughing. I said, yeah, that’s what I said. It doesn’t expire. He said he can’t do anything for me, because I need to deal with McAfee. They pay a special license fee so that Comcast customers have it, but they don’t do support. OK, back to McAfee. Tag, you’re it.

I explained to the McAfee tech that there must be something wrong with McAfee’s download site, because I’m not able to access it either by the Update feature in my software or manually through the link on the website. The tech at Comcast couldn’t access it either. He got the same error I did, so I figured it must be on McAfee’s end. The McAfee tech said that he could access it just fine. I asked him, how are you getting to it? Are you on your own network (LAN) or are you going from an external connection? He said he was on his LAN, so I said maybe that’s the problem. That’s why you haven’t noticed it, because all of you can get to it internally.

He said no, that wasn’t it. He said the reason I couldn’t run the update or reinstall the software was because I had to uninstall it first, then reinstall it. Now think about that for a minute. It’s not letting me install the software from the website, and now he wants me to completely uninstall the anti-virus software that is still protecting my computer from hackers and viruses. It’s not up to date, but it is still protecting me at this point. What if I can’t reinstall it? Then I’m wide open to attacks. He said not to worry, I would be able to install it. So, like an idiot, I believed him. You guessed it.

Cut to three days later. By this time, I’m not even talking to anyone. As soon as the first person answers the phone I just ask for a supervisor. I’ve spent the better part of a Thursday and Friday evening and an entire Saturday morning screwing around with this. My computer is disconnected from the Internet because I’m afraid to connect. Finally, finally, I get in touch with someone at Comcast that knows what they are talking about. She puts me in contact with a McAfee tech who is dedicated to the Comcast account. My question is, why wasn’t I given this other phone number three days ago?

It turns out that when I upgraded to the new version, it was supposed to have updated my “hosts” file, which is a Windows system file in a hidden directory (oops, I mean folder). It didn’t update the file on the Comcast version of the software, so it had to be updated manually. Since I am in the IT business and consider myself a professional nerd, I could edit this file and include the IP address of McAfee’s download site. Luckily I know what I’m doing, because it could have been a nightmare if I was computer illiterate as many people I know are. It worked, and I got back online, downloaded the software and reinstalled it.

I have no problem with Comcast, because they were limited on what they could do. But I will never buy anything from McAfee ever again. Since I still get the product for free, I will continue to use it, but they will never see a dime of my money. They could have earned my business very easily. All I had to hear was that one person was going to take ownership of the issue and escalate it and follow through. That didn't happen. Everyone I spoke to gave me the "sorry, not my table" treatment and passed me around to someone else.

My other experience happened at about the same time. My company has some pretty cool perks. Even though I need to go into an office in downtown Chicago every day, I am listed as “home-based.” As such, I get to order office supplies for my home office and other things I need for my commute, like my monthly train pass. Recently I ordered a new laptop case. I have a bicycle now and I can ride it to the train station when the weather is nice. The problem is that my stock Dell bag only has a shoulder strap. I need a backpack to ride my bike or I either choke myself or the bag falls off my shoulder.

I saw exactly what I needed in the Office Max online catalog. It was a combination bag, with a shoulder strap and backpack straps that hide away in a pocket. Pretty cool. And it has more space inside than my old bag, but takes up less space under my seat on the train. It’s exactly what I was looking for. There was only one small problem.

The clips on the over-the-shoulder strap are metal and strong, but the ones for the shoulder (backpack) straps are plastic. The first time I rode to the train station and unclipped them to stow the straps away in their pocket, one of them snapped right off. Bummer.

I went to Kensington’s website to see if they sold spare parts. I couldn’t find any. I saw that the case carried a warranty, but it said you needed a proof of purchase to make a warranty claim. Since I didn’t pay for it myself, I didn’t have a receipt or anything. I emailed the customer service contact anyway and asked if I could buy a set of replacement clips.

Within five minutes I had a response in my inbox. It wasn’t a form email, either. It was a personal response. He asked me for the serial number on the bag. I replied back and within another five minutes he emailed back and asked for my shipping address so they could send me a replacement free of charge. About two weeks later, I had a package with a brand new laptop case. I’m being more careful with this one knowing that those plastic clips can snap easily. But the next time that I’m in the market for a laptop bag, I will go out of my way to look for the Kensington brand.

Two free things, two customer service experiences. Neither of them got any money from me, but one of them will probably get my business in the future, and one never will. There’s your last business lesson for the day: Not all customers are paying customers. But treating the non-paying customers well may bring you more business later. By the same token, treating the non-paying customers like crap will surely guarantee that they will never be paying customers. Questions?

Summertime (And the Screenwriting is Easy)

As you may or may not know, my wife and I write books and screenplays. We’ve completed a novel, a self-help workbook, and two screenplays. There’s a third screenplay that’s been in the works for a few years, but we haven’t been able to get it where we want it yet. Both completed screenplays are excellent. They have action, drama, well thought-out characters, and interesting plots. They are both movies that I would personally like to go and see. What better reason is there to write a screenplay? Well, apparently, the best reason in Hollywood is to make the most money for the least amount of effort. Just take a look at the summer lineup for 2008 and you see a large collection of remakes, sequels, and TV shows or comic books adapted for the big screen. I’m not saying that all (or any) of these movies are bad, just that Hollywood has gotten very lazy.

Comic Books / Cartoons

• The Dark Knight – The newest Batman movie. I went to see it on its opening weekend, and yes, it is just as good as everyone says. It’s definitely the best Batman movie yet, Heath Ledger is amazing as the Joker, and the city of Chicago takes a starring role in the movie. Great movie, but as far as Hollywood laziness goes, it gets the trifecta. Is it a sequel to Batman Begins, a remake of the first Batman movie, or a comic book adapted for the big screen? It’s all three, so this one gets listed first.
  
  
• Iron Man – Yawn, another comic book. And not even a good comic book like Batman (although the idea of a billionaire who builds a super-suit to make himself a superhero sounds kind of familiar). This guy isn’t even his own main character. He was part of “The Avengers” along with Thor, Hulk, and Captain America (just wait, that movie is coming soon). And besides, I find it hard to picture Robert Downey, Jr. as a hero of any sort. I personally boycotted this movie, because I’d prefer not to contribute to Downey’s drug/rehab fund (whichever end of the cycle he happens to be in now).
  
  
• The Incredible Hulk – This has to be the most annoying of the summer comic book movies, because they just did it a few years ago! How bad was “Hulk” if they had to “reboot the franchise” just five years later? By the way, how lame is the phrase “reboot the franchise” anyway? That’s what they’ve called it with James Bond (Casino Royale), Superman (Superman Returns), Batman (Batman Begins), and even Friday the 13th. This is the height of Hollywood laziness when you are so out of ideas that you just take a franchise and start it over at the beginning instead of coming up with a new one.
  
  
• Hellboy II: The Golden Army – Yeah, it looks cute, but in addition to being yet another comic book character (at least it’s not Marvel Comics this time) it’s also a sequel. Is it that Hollywood is lazy for making all these comic book movies, or is it that the moviegoers are so lazy that they’d rather pay $10 to watch it than read it?
  
  
• Speed Racer – Ha ha! OK, I admit, I was never a fan of the cartoon in the first place. I hated that Japanese animation and still do. So obviously I’m not about to go and see a live-action version of the cartoon. Although, I am interested to see if they were able to not match up the actor’s mouths with the words. Ha ha!
  

TV Shows

• Sex and the City – God help us all. I thought we were done with all this. I remember drinking a toast to the last episode of “Sluts in the City” a few years ago. Now I have to listen to every woman and gay man between 20-40 talk about this piece of trash in the elevator. Will Carrie and “Mr. Big” get married? Who cares? And hey, what would the N.O.W. say if I created a female TV character named “Super Juggs?”
  
  
• Get Smart – Nice idea, because we’ve already exhausted most of the 1970s TV shows. It’s high time we started ripping off the 1960s shows. And since Don Adams died a couple of years ago and wouldn’t come looking for a piece of the pie, it’s a perfect time to have a second-rate hack (Steve Carell) rip off his Maxwell Smart character. Nice try, Chief, but you missed it by that much.
  
  
• The X-Files: I Want to Believe – Can we please let this lame TV show rest in peace? Oh, wait, it’s the X Files. It’ll always raise itself from the dead or be resurrected by aliens or some other dumb-ass plot. At least Gillian Anderson still looks hot. Nothing like a sexy redhead to save the franchise. Just don’t reboot it with someone else, OK?
  

Sequels

• Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull – I’ve always been a big fan of Indiana Jones, but this one was just a disappointment for me. You can only keep going back to the well a few times, then it’s just not working anymore. Honestly, they should have stopped after Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. That was an amazing movie, and Sean Connery made it special. This one had too much of a “20th anniversary reunion” feel to it. Let it go, George Lucas. This one is played out. You might want to start thinking about something new.
  
  
• Star Wars: The Clone Wars – George, are you still listening? Yes, I’m saying it again. Think of something new! The Star Wars franchise has done well, especially Episodes IV, V, and VI. Now you’re just being greedy, and yes, lazy. Come on, an animated Star Wars movie? I saw the previews for this one before The Dark Knight, and I almost started laughing. I mean, who would actually pay $10 to see a Star Wars cartoon?
  
  
• The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor – Huh? Is anyone still watching any of these stupid “Mummy” movies? I haven’t seen either of the other two, and there’s a reason for that. They looked idiotic then, and this one looks pretty stupid too. Helpful tip to Hollywood: you are still required to include a plot in your scripts. You are not allowed to think up cool special effects and then insert a plot around them!
  
  
• The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian – This is the second in the “Narnia” franchise of movies. I’ll give this one a pass because, although I am not personally interested in seeing any of these movies, it may get children to go back and read the books upon which they are based. I’m all for enticing kids to read more books. A quick Internet search shows that this is the second of seven books, and they are planning to make movies based on all seven books. As I said earlier, I’m not saying that all sequels or novel adaptations are bad. This series (and the Harry Potter series) can be good if they are getting kids to read more books.
  
  
• The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 – As with the “Narnia” series above, I’m going to give this one a pass. This movie is based on the second in the “Sisterhood” series of four books, so maybe the kids will enjoy the movie and go back to read the books. If they can put down their iPods, cell phones, and video games long enough to pick up a book, I’m all for it.
  

Remakes

• Prom Night – This is a remake of the 1980 cult classic horror movie of the same name. There’s a reason why the first one was a classic. It starred Jamie Lee Curtis, the original “scream queen.” Here’s a tip for the lazy Hollywood film makers: if you’re going to rip off a classic, don’t name your production company “Original Film.” Lame.
  
  
• Journey to the Center of the Earth – This is the latest remake of Jules Verne’s classic novel about traveling to the center of the Earth. The only problem is, when Verne wrote the book, we didn’t know about the physical makeup of the planet. Now we know that traveling through the mantle into the Earth’s core is not possible. But the makers of this movie ignored all that and decided, “Hey, let’s remake this movie, but let’s throw in a bunch of special effects and make it in 3-D!” The last time we had a “center of the Earth” theme was the movie The Core, and at least it was somewhat believable. This isn’t. Maybe Brendon Fraser expects to find another mummy down there.
  
  
• Death Race – Ah, you thought you could slip one by us, didn’t you? Nice try, but I know this is a remake. Death Race 2000 was released in the mid 70s and starred David Carradine in the role of “Frankenstein.” (Sylvester Stallone was in the original too!) I can understand why Hollywood is remaking this movie, apart from their eternal laziness. This movie became a cult classic, and some even prefer it to the futuristic sports movie Rollerball, which came out at about the same time. (I personally am a big fan of Rollerball and Jonathan E. and I was disgusted when they remade that one a few years ago.) But the movie didn’t make a lot at the box office, and only gained cult fame later. With a small budget, it made a large profit on video and DVD releases years later, so hey, how about we get a big star (Jason Statham of The Transporter fame) and a big budget and a lot of special effects? Last helpful tip for you, Hollywood: good stories and good scripts make good movies. Throwing a bunch of money and special effects at a camera isn’t the solution.
  
  
• Mamma Mia! – Does this count as a remake or an adaptation? I’m not sure, but I’m putting it in here anyway. Mamma Mia! is part of the “jukebox musical” fad of Broadway and London musicals. This genre takes the music of an artist (in this case, Abba) and creates a story that uses their songs throughout. Other “jukebox musicals” have included Movin’ Out (Billy Joel), We Will Rock You (Queen), Lennon (John Lennon), and Jersey Boys (Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons). This is the first of those musicals to be adapted to the big screen. Considering the laziness of Hollywood, I’m sure it’s not the last.
  

I’m planning to go and see Hancock, starring Will Smith as an alcoholic superhero who is, shall we say, less than an ideal role model for the children. This was the one movie I saw on the list with an original plot that actually looked interesting. I read some reviews on it, and the critics didn’t like it very much (that’s my first clue that it’s probably a good movie). One critic actually said, “It’s too original.” What? Too original? Yeah, that’s what he said. He said that the American moviegoing public isn’t ready for this type of story, because it doesn’t follow the tried-and-true Hollywood formula. Which formula is that?

[(Rehashed plot + special effects – creativity) * big name star] / big budget = profit

Oh, that formula. Too bad “well-developed characters,” “strong script,” or “enjoyable experience for the audience” aren’t included. Now I know why nobody wants to buy our scripts. They don’t fit the formula.

Kicking Butts

Today (or yesterday, depending on how you calculate it) marks six months since I smoked my last cigarette. Thank you, thank you. Six months was my goal. I told myself that if I made it to six months, then I have gone from “I’m trying to quit” to “I’m an ex-smoker.” I smoked for over 30 years, at times two packs a day, but around a pack a day the whole time. This is absolutely the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I’ve seen studies that state it’s harder to stop smoking than kick heroin.

I can believe that, because heroin is a physical addiction. If you can make it through a couple of days, you’ve beaten it. Smoking is a lot harder because in addition to the physical addiction of nicotine, there’s the psychological addiction. Nicotine is hard enough. I tried to quit several times and the lack of nicotine made me crazy. And by crazy, I mean very angry and mean. To the point where my wife went out and bought me a pack of smokes and said, “Here, smoke, I can’t live with you without cigarettes.”

OK, you can kick the physical addiction in a few days, or at most a few weeks. But the routine is harder to beat. There are so many things associated with smoking. Get up in the morning, grab a smoke to get you started. Ahh, a cigarette with my morning coffee. Nice. After meals? You bet. At the bar with a beer? Sure, of course! That last cigarette before bedtime? It ends the day just right. And of course, let’s not forget that basking-in-the-afterglow cigarette after sex.

There are a lot of things you have to give up if you’re going to quit smoking. Just giving up smoking isn’t enough, you have to change your entire life and your entire routine. Caffeine is a trigger, so no more coffee, or at least decaf for awhile (three months for me). Alcohol is definitely a trigger, so the beer is a big no-no. It’s not like going on a diet and saying, “OK, I’m going to stop eating junk food.” That’s easy. You just don’t eat that anymore. But “junk food eater” is not an identity. “Smoker” is part of who you are.

It’s not a “habit.” It’s your life. When you leave the house, you have to make sure that you remember your pack of cigarettes (and a spare if there’s only a few left in your opened pack), your lighter or matches, and something to carry them in. That rules out just walking out the door in a T-shirt and shorts in the summertime. At the very least, you need to have jeans and a shirt with a pocket. I normally had a jacket, even on the hottest days.

You also have to allow for smoke breaks throughout the day. An overseas flight? Twenty hours without a smoke? Forget it, I didn’t want to see Australia anyway. I don’t care if nobody needs to use the bathroom, we’re stopping at the rest area anyway. We’re in a rental car! Three hour line for the new Batman ride? Uh, you kids go ahead, Dad will wait for you in the smoking area.

As I said, I tried to quit several times. I tried all the methods. I tried the patch, the gum, hypnosis, subliminal tapes, and as mentioned above, cold turkey. Chantix was finally the thing that worked for me, but after I had started the regimen I learned that some people were having horrible psychotic side effects. Additionally, my insurance didn’t cover it at all, so I cut myself off after three months instead of continuing the recommended six months. Blue Cross, answer me this. If I kept smoking and got cancer, you’ll pay for my chemotherapy and all the expensive treatments, oxygen tanks, and experimental drugs, right? So why won’t you pay $125 per month for something that will help me quit smoking?

I learned that Illinois was banning smoking everywhere, so that’s when I decided that it was time to at least cut down. I still couldn’t commit to never smoking again. That’s a tough word, never. It’s pretty final, isn’t it? That was probably what stopped me the previous attempts. The taxes weren’t enough, and the bans weren’t enough to put me over the top. What decided it once and for all was when my daughter told me that she was afraid I would die before she grew up. That was it. I called and made an appointment with the doctor the next day. If you know me, you know that me going to a doctor voluntarily is an event in itself.

When I quit, I promised myself that I would never become one of those militant holier-than-thou reformed ex-smokers. And so far I haven’t. I feel that I’m in a pretty unique position to offer some advice to non-smokers. And here it is: lay off the smokers, will ya?

The poor smokers can’t smoke inside now, and they’re treated like pariahs. I’ve told this story before on the message boards, but it’s worth repeating here. Once when I was outside on the sidewalk having my cigarette break, a mother and daughter walked by. The little girl yelled (loudly), “Look Mommy, that man is smoking!” The mother replied, “Yes, he’s a bad man for smoking.” Then she grabbed the child’s hand and pulled her away fast, giving me a dirty look. I couldn’t believe she actually said that. I’m a bad person? Because I smoke? That’s what you’re teaching your children?

Give them a break. They are physically and psychologically addicted to a substance that they know will kill them. But remember that they probably didn’t know that when they started. When I was 12, there weren’t warnings on every pack, and nobody checked for I.D. I bought my cigarettes from a machine down at the gas station for 65 cents. My friends (and everyone else) told me that it was cool to smoke, and if I wanted to be cool I needed to start smoking. They forgot to mention the part about needing to smoke after I got started.

So lighten up. That guy smoking his cigarette, 15 feet away from the door in -20 wind chill, isn’t hurting you. Just because you can smell it doesn’t mean it’s giving you cancer, so get over it. You should be more worried about the soccer mom’s SUV/minivan spewing toxic exhaust. But it’s a lot easier to tell 20% of the population that you don’t want them to smoke than tell 100% of the population that you don’t want them to drive three blocks to the store instead of walking. If you’re serious about “clean air,” Illinois, start with that.

I, The Jury

Today I am serving jury duty for the first time ever. I got a summons once about 15 years ago, but wasn’t able to serve that time. Unlike many other people around me right now, I’m not bitching and whining about being here. As I type this, there’s a woman on her cell phone talking (very loudly) to everyone she knows, complaining about being here. “Waaaa, boo hoo, it took me two hours to get here. I don’t care if they come and arrest me, I’m never coming here again.” I secretly hope that she gets called soon and serves on a jury for a trial that lasts about six months. It would serve her right.

Actually, I’m rather excited about being on a jury. I’ve always wanted to do it, and I have never really felt like a “real” American because I haven’t had the opportunity to participate in the jury process. That said, I don’t want to be on a death penalty case that lasts six months, either!

When I told people at work that I was going to be out today on jury duty, every one of them gave me tips on how to get out of it. Why is that? Why is everyone so opposed to doing their duty as a citizen? (Yes, I know, Peter Griffin, I just said “duty.” Get over it, I’m being serious here.) We live in the greatest country in the world, where everyone is innocent until proven guilty by a jury of his/her peers. How cool is that? We should be excited to go and get a day off work (with pay for some of us) and participate in the legal system. But instead, everyone is always looking for a way to be excused from service.

These are the same people who don’t vote, either. Back in February, on “Super Tuesday,” in fact, I worked from home and took my son to vote for the first time. It was great. He and I went to the polling place, signed in and got our ballots. We used the new touch screens, so that was a first for me. Actually I was kind of sad because he’ll never get to experience the “punch card” ballots. I always liked those. But what really made me sad was the fact that we were the only two people there except for the election officials.

What has happened in this country? The turnout for the election is nearly 50%, and that’s considered really good? Do you have any idea how many people in Cuba or Iraq or Soviet Russia who would love to have the privilege of voting for their favorite candidate? All they got to do was put an X on the one candidate on the ballot. This just in, Saddam and Fidel were re-elected again, with 100% of the vote again. Wow, what a shock. (Actually, I remember one election where Saddam got 99% of the vote. How many write-ins were there, and how long did those voters survive?)

Somebody said once, “America isn’t easy.” That’s right. America isn’t easy. America takes hard work and sacrifice. A lot of good people died so you can have that house in the suburbs. They died so you can choose which career path you want, then change it after a few years. They died so you can go to the mall without filling out a will first. They died so you can send your children to school without worrying if the bus will make it to school without exploding. And they died so you can write letters to the editor complaining about the government without looking over your shoulder for the secret police. Is it too much to ask for you to spend one day serving on a jury, or stopping by on your way home twice a year to vote? Apparently it is.

Update: Unfortunately, I was not called into a courtroom. I spent the entire day sitting in the jury assembly room playing solitaire on the computer, reading a newspaper, and talking to my fellow prospective jurors. Some of them were called and they all complained. When the rest of us were told we could go home, the people at my table all were relieved and happy. I was disappointed.

Oh, and I did a Sudoku puzzle. The first time I’ve ever done one!

In Defense of Dads

Last night we watched the first episode of a new show on NBC called, “The Baby Borrowers.” In case you haven’t heard of it, it’s – wait for it – yet another reality show. Wow, big surprise. But the premise is actually kind of cool. They take five teenage couples. All of them think they’re ready for parenthood and they’re like wanting to have a baby now. (That should clue you in on the serious brain damage they already possess.)

So what they do is take these five couples and give them each a house on a cul-de-sac. They’ve never lived together before, so the first couple of days are a new experience just getting along together. Then they introduce – dun, dun, dun – the babies. They each get a real baby for a few days. (The babies’ parents are in another house watching it all on closed-circuit TV in case the teenagers freak out or something.) In future episodes, they will get to try their hands at parenting pre-teens, teenagers, and finally taking care of senior citizens. The tag line for this show is, “It’s not TV, it’s birth control.” Funny.

Of course it’s hilarious to sit and watch these kids totally freak out and be completely overwhelmed, but I started to notice a trend. It seems that the girls were the ones freaking out and the boys were being responsible. That’s roughly 180 degrees from what I expected. I figured the boys would just want to play video games or watch TV and the girls would jump in. But four of the five acted like spoiled little princesses.

Here’s an example. The girls were supposed to wear a “pregnant suit” all day before the babies arrived while the couples attended parenting classes. Most of the girls took it in stride and had fun with it. One of them, a preppy little brat from Georgia, threw a big fit and said she would never wear that suit because it made her look fat. I got news for ya, little Georgia peach, when you’re really pregnant, you’re not gonna be playing tennis all day and you’re gonna look fat for a lot longer than one day!

After some back and forth, she decided that she wasn’t going to go to the classes at all, and locked herself in the bathroom. What did the boy do? He left and went to the classes alone. He was late because of trying to get her to go, but he took responsibility and did it. He even put on the pregnant suit himself.

When the class was over, they all went home and found that there were a lot of baby supplies and some baby furniture that needed to be assembled. Boy, that brought back memories of assembling a crib, high chair, swing, playpen, and about 20,000 other “essentials” for the baby. All I heard from the girls was, “Oh, but I wanted to lay down and take a nap.” Fine, go for it. The boys didn’t whine and complain, they just got down to business.

Once the babies came, the boys went out grocery shopping while the girls stayed with the babies. OK, not exactly the Lewis and Clark expedition, but they were contributing. They changed diapers, took turns feeding, and sterilized bottles when the bratty princesses didn’t want to break a nail. I was very impressed with all the boys, and very unimpressed with nearly all the girls. I hope they get a clue and grow up fast.

It made me think about my own experience as a new parent. I had no experience with babies at all. I had never held a baby, fed a baby, or changed a diaper at all. There’s a picture of me holding my son in the nursery just after he was born. That picture signifies the first time I ever held a baby. And yes, I was scared to death. I was convinced that this delicate little thing was going to disintegrate in my hands if I breathed on it.

But I figured it out. I learned to put alcohol on the cord and lotion on the circumcision, not the other way around. Ooh, that would have been painful! I learned how to change a diaper, and eventually had it down to a science. I could change a diaper in less than 30 seconds, including powder and/or lotion. I learned to tell the difference between cries. “I’m hungry” is different from “I need to be changed” and “If I don’t burp I’m going to explode.”

I was the primary caregiver for both my son and my daughter, a purely financial arrangement. She made more money, so I made the adjustment. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Not to brag, but I think I was damn good at it, too. So why the knock on Dads?

I can’t tell you how many times I would be pushing the stroller to the park, and someone (a Mom, of course) would say, “Oh, are you babysitting today?” No, I’m not babysitting, these are my children and I’m taking care of them like I do every day. Besides, babysitters generally get paid. Do I have to do your job for you, too, or are you going to pull that dirt clod out of your baby’s mouth?

One time, at playgroup, was the worst. We were living overseas because my wife worked for the government. It allowed me to stay home full time with my son, and later, my daughter. My son and I were at playgroup with a room full of military wives. (If there’s a ruder, more condescending group of cackling hens on Earth, I haven’t seen them.) But I digress.

Anyway, my son and I were off playing by ourselves in the corner, as usual, because the other children had been instructed to ignore us. (I know, the whole point of playgroup was for him to interact with other children. Don’t tell me, tell them.) There was a new Mom in the group, and the other Moms were talking to her, when I clearly heard her say, “How can he call himself a man, when he lets his wife support him?” I stood up and walked right over to her. I said, “I was man enough to father this child.” Then I looked behind her. “How can you call yourself a mother when you let your baby climb that bookshelf?” She turned and screamed. Her baby was fine, no harm was done, except to my ego. That was the last session at playgroup for us.

This stereotype has gone on long enough. Men are just as good at parenting as women. Just because I didn’t give birth to them doesn’t mean I can’t take care of them. They’re happy, healthy, and smart. They’re well adjusted and polite. I couldn’t ask for better kids, and I would stack them up against any of the brats in that playgroup. Just remember that the next time you ask a father if he’s “babysitting.” He can probably change a diaper faster and better than you, and I’d feel safer putting the baby down in the crib he assembled.

A Tale of Two Teams (In One City)

Well, well, it’s that time again. Time for “interleague” baseball. About 10 years ago, Bud Selig (the commissioner of Major League Baseball, in case you’ve been living in a cave on Mars with your eyes shut and your fingers in your ears) decided that we should have regular season games between AL and NL teams. In other words, he was trying to create new “rivalries.”

Here in Chicago, that means (yawn) the “Crosstown Classic” between the Cubs and the White Sox. For six games a year, we’re supposed to have this big rivalry between the two, but it’s completely one sided (the rivalry, that is; and sometimes the games too). If you ask a White Sox fan, they’ll say, “Oh, we hate the Cubs so much! They suck! They play in an old smelly ballpark and they haven’t won anything in 100 years. They’re the worst and we hate them!”

Then go and ask a Cub fan. He’ll say, “Who? The Sox? Yeah, good for them for winning the World Series a couple of years ago. It’s about time they beat the Yankees for once. Oh, you meant the White Sox. Yeah, whatever. Our rival is the Cardinals, not the White Sox.” Our only thoughts about the White Sox are when they threw the World Series for money and almost killed the entire sport. Had it not been for Kennesaw Mountain Landis (the first baseball commissioner), the Black Sox scandal probably would have been the end of professional baseball and I would have nothing to write about today.

See, when we think about rivalries, we think of the traditional rivalries. A rivalry is born, not made. You can’t just say, “OK, you two are going to be rivals now.” A rivalry starts because of two teams playing against each other when it means something. Until 1997, the “Crosstown Classic” was one exhibition game each year when both teams had an off day. Not exactly something you build a heated rivalry around.

These made up interleague “rivalries” are a great way to give the ugly stepchild of a major city a chance to get some attention for a few days. If you stop and think about it, that’s what all of them are about. In each major market, there’s always one team that gets the attention and one that gets relatively none. The fans of the “ugly stepchild” team have a big chip on their shoulder while the “favorite” team doesn’t really care. That’s how it is in Chicago. There are millions and millions of Cub fans all over the world, yet the White Sox can’t sell out their own ballpark after winning the World Series.

In New York, you have the Yankees and the Mets. Ask a Met fan who their rival is. They’ll quickly say, “Those damn Yankees! We hate those sons of bitches! Always getting all the press and buying an all-star team every year. We can’t wait to get our shot at beating them!” Now ask a Yankee fan who their rival is. Without hesitation, every Yankee fan will say the Boston Red Sox. Why? Because that is a natural rivalry. Each year the Yankees and Red Sox are fighting it out for the division and sometimes even playing for the pennant. (Just watch ESPN if you don’t believe me.) The Mets have no natural rival, so they make up a rivalry against the Yankees.

It’s the same in other major markets. In Los Angeles, the Dodgers get all the attention, so the Angels fans have a chip on their shoulder. In the Bay Area the Oakland A’s don’t get anywhere near the attention as the Giants, even though they have their share of championships. Meanwhile, the Dodgers and the Giants have had a long and heated rivalry that has followed each team from New York / Brooklyn out to California. Now these are two teams that really hate each other! But the Angels and A’s don’t even have a rivalry with each other, much less anyone else. So they have to make up a rivalry with the popular team in town.

And poor Kansas City. They have no natural rival either, so MLB makes up the “fight for Missouri” between them and the Cardinals. Note to the Royals: even if you have a good team, the Cardinals are still paying attention to the Cubs and not to you.

That said, the White Sox fans were talking a bunch of smack last week before the first three games at Wrigley Field. Ozzie Guillen was his usual profanity-laced whiny self, blaming everyone else for everything instead of admitting that he’s pretty much useless as a manager. The radio and TV stations were predicting the “June Swoon” of the Cubs and preparing the coronation of the White Sox as champions of Chicago once again. Then those pesky Cubbies put a wrench in the works by sweeping the three games with little or no difficulty. So what, who cares, and/or big deal.

There are three more games left in this made-up rivalry this weekend at “U.S. Sell-Your-Name Field.” I’m sure there will be a lot of hurt feelings either way, and I’m quite sure that I don’t care. Personally I’m waiting for the end of July. Like I always say, the reason it’s called “America’s Pastime” is because we use baseball to pass the time between the Super Bowl and training camp. Cubs fan, White Sox fan, it doesn’t matter how much we’re supposed to hate each other during baseball season. We are all Chicago Bears fans, and we all hate the Packers all year round.

Wud U Spel Dat, Plees?

I heard something interesting on the news this morning while I was getting ready for work. Did you hear this? Someone claims that the English language is “too hard” for children to learn, so they want to change the way a couple hundred words are spelled. Words like “friend” and “soldier.” And they said that there are too many spellings of “to.” I guess that more than two is too many to understand. (There, I just used all of them in one sentence correctly; what’s to understand?) So they want to make it “less confusing.”

I guess the point is to advance literacy. I think the point is that we haven’t thought up enough ways to coddle these kids, so let’s think up one more. Personally, if I’m a kid and they say that I’m too stupid to learn the language, I’m offended. I mean, my parents and grandparents had enough brain cells to figure it out, right? And if we change the spelling of all these words, the older generation will have to adjust and relearn all the words. Does that mean the kids are just stupid? I don’t think so. There are several reasons why the kids can’t figure out how to spell, and most of them are our fault. Here’s a few of the major reasons:

1. Spell check – Yes, Bill Gates, it’s all your fault. You and Melissa can stop hiding behind your charitable foundation and own up. Until this generation, we used a different spell checker called our brain. We wrote things down instead of typing everything out on the computer, running it through the spell check, dictionary, and thesaurus, and then we read it again to make sure it was right. Kids today are lazy because they haven’t ever had to actually do the work. Everything is a template for them, with a wizard to help them make a coherent thought. And they still ask for help!
   
2. Texting and IM – You want to talk about the downfall of the English language? Here it is right here. Everything has a shortcut. You can forget about using three different spellings of the words to, too, and two. Now we just use one, with no letters! The number 2 works for all three when you’re texting or chatting online. We’ve saved some keystrokes with the words “you” and “are” as well. Now they’re down to just one letter. There’s an acronym for laughing out loud (LOL) or rolling on the floor laughing (ROFL). Nobody cares about proper spelling or grammar anymore. I’m pretty pissed off about it; R U 2?
   
3. Schools – Yeah, go ahead and comment about how those poor teachers are overworked and underpaid, but I know better. Where I live, they average over $80K and get three months of vacation and at least twice the holidays I get. Yeah, really tough. But it’s not all their fault either. The curriculum they are given is worthless. Everything has to be all touchy-feely, nobody’s-ever-wrong, give-them-a-trophy-for-trying PC crap. Nobody asked me how I felt about my answer. Was it right or was it wrong? If it was wrong, it wasn’t, “Oh, nice try,” it was “Wrong! Do it again!” Even the teachers themselves have gone through that system and are functionally illiterate now. Now the teacher, the one who’s supposed to know better, is the one using an apostrophe-s to make a word plural. (Just in case you’re under 25 and didn’t get that, the correct plural for “idiot” is “idiots,” not “idiot’s.”)
   
4. The Media – I’m not letting you off the hook either. You know who you are. In order to look “cool” to the young consumers, the mass media is adopting these stupid shortcuts too (“2 Fast, 2 Furious”; yeah, we get it, it’s a sequel). Rappers have names that look like they threw a bunch of Scrabble tiles on the table, and even TV newscasts put graphics up with the wrong spelling. I swear, one of these days I’m going to call up CNN or Fox News or ESPN and ask them how much they’re paying the idiot typing the ticker, because if it’s more than a dollar, it’s way too much.
   
5. The Parents – You didn’t think I was going to forget the lazy parents, did you? These are the spoiled brats from the ‘70s and ’80s who started the whole thing, and now they don’t know the English language enough to tell their children that they’re doing it wrong. But then again, most of them don’t realize it, because a nanny is raising their kids anyway. Way too many young parents are more interested in working all the time than in paying attention to their children. I understand that many households need two incomes; mine does. But do you really need to work 60 hours a week and sell your soul to a corporation that doesn’t even know who you are? They need to get their priorities in order and realize what’s really important. (Hint: it’s not your stupid job, because the company doesn’t care about you at all. You can and will be replaced when they feel like it.)
   

The main point of changing English is because “many of the words don’t look like they sound.” Yeah? Big deal. English doesn’t have a patent on that either. Have you checked out other languages? If we’re going to change all the English words so that they are phonetically correct, then we’ll need to “fix” the other languages too. We can start by spelling the name of our southern neighbor to “May-He-Ko.”

That Durn New-Fangled Technology

Well, you haven’t heard from me in a few days. The question is, did you notice? Well, there’s a good reason. This website has a feature where you can upload blog entries and set them to post at a certain date and time. I guess I didn’t do it right, because the last three days didn’t post at all. And now I can’t find them on the site. Nice, huh?

Oh well, at least I remembered to save them on my home computer, so I’ll just manually upload them in the coming days. This way I have some extras on hand for days when I’m too tired or too lazy. What really, really pisses me off is that I work in IT! And I’m a former web designer! So this totally makes me look like an idiot. You would think that there’s no website in the world that would stump me, right? Wrong. In other words, (wait for it…here it comes) I’m getting old. For those of you are as ancient as me, remember back to those days before we had all this technology? Today’s kids have it so much easier than we did back then.

“Rabbit Ears?” What are they, Dad? (I’m just kidding. My kids know what those are. Those are the last resort to watch the Bears game after my wife “forgot” to pay the cable bill.) And what’s a “test pattern?” Hand to God, they actually asked me that once. You mean you had three channels, and that’s all? (OK, I’m exaggerating. In central Illinois, we also had the local PBS station and sometimes WGN from Chicago. There was also a cool independent station out of Indianapolis that you could pull in on a clear night.)

Remember when you cooked food in an oven? No, not a microwave oven, an oven. Yes, that’s how we heated up our leftovers too. A little aluminum foil over the plate, and about 30 minutes at low temperature. Do you think you kids could wait that long? Today’s world is too rush-rush, let’s go, I want it now. Throw it in the nuke box, press a button, then we have to wait a whole 8 minutes before the TV dinner is done. OH…MY…GOD, I’m going to starve!

There was no Internet back then, and no computer in the house. A computer was something that NASA used to get men on the moon, not something you used to chat with your friends and play games. If I didn’t know the answer to something, I would ask my parents. What was their answer? “Look it up.” Luckily, I had a full set of World Book encyclopedias for reference. But if my answer wasn’t there, I had a choice to make. Did I really want to know that badly? Or, egad, what if I needed to know for a school report? Then I had to go to a place that we called “the library.” It was this big building downtown (about an hour’s bike ride each way) and it had thousands and thousands of books in it. In school we learned how to use a “card catalog,” because remember, no computers at the library either. So we had to find books the old fashioned way.

If we wanted to chat with our friends, we had to pick up the telephone. Not the cell phone, and we couldn’t “text” them. We had the regular phone mounted on the wall, with a standard three foot cord that was always tangled up because my stupid sister would wrap it around her finger while she talked to her loser boyfriend for hours on end. No privacy there, unless you got a “privacy phone,” which meant that you had another one in another room that wasn’t the kitchen. Of course, that phone was tied to the wall too, and you couldn’t just get up and walk around with it. I remember the day we got a “touch-tone” telephone; it was like we had moved up from the Stone Age to the Iron Age. No, wait. That would be a better analogy for the day my Mom went from using a hot rock to an electric iron. (Just kidding; she didn’t get the iron until later.)

We didn’t have video games back then, either. We had board games, card games, and games we made up ourselves, but no video games. If you wanted extra bonus points for murdering a police officer, you had to do it in real life because “Grand Theft Auto” didn’t exist yet. Interesting side note: in real life, I don’t recall anyone getting bonus points for shooting a cop or driving up on the sidewalk to mow down innocent bystanders. "Extra time," maybe, but no bonus points.

No, we didn’t have wonderful elaborate fantasy worlds to enter. We had to make do with what we had. We had to take a regular old ball and bat and glove and go outside to play baseball. Imagine what fun we would have had if we could have had the whole neighborhood crammed into a small room with artificial light and simulated a baseball game on the Wii! Instead of having high definition, stereo surround sound war games, we had to “pretend” to shoot aliens or Nazis or Commies. We acted like we were having fun, but I’m sure that deep down we were wishing that we could just control a virtual character with our thumbs instead of running around and getting exercise out in the fresh air and using our “imagination.”

So the $64,000 question is, are we better off with the new-fangled technology?

Elder-berry Whine

I spend a lot of time posting on the message boards, and it’s fun. There are about a dozen or so “regulars” there, and we take turns making fun of the advice columnists or the idiots that write in. Today’s “Dear Abby” just made my blood boil.

The letter writer was writing in to get Abby’s opinion on her situation. She and her sister are 15 and 16 and their parents “make” them go and visit their grandparents for a couple of hours one Saturday a month. They “don’t like to waste” their Saturday this way, and they remind us that they are old enough to stay home alone. OK, umm, that’s not the point, Brat 1 and Brat 2.

Some of the responses on the message board were even worse. “Take along a book to read or a video game” was one of the responses. “The parents shouldn’t force them to go” was another. Are you kidding me? If that’s the attitude of the parents, then I’m not surprised the kids are spoiled, selfish brats.

Kids, listen closely. Yes, you. Turn off the iPod, put down the cell phone and shut off the PS3. There is a reason that we are the parents and you are the children. We know more than you! I know this might come as a shock to you, but you actually know very little. In your teen years, you know about 10% of what you need to know to stay alive. That’s why you still live with Mommy and Daddy, because you would not survive if they didn’t take care of you.

By the time you’re in your 20s, you’ve acquired some additional knowledge, but still only about 25% of what you need. Now you know how to make yourself look good, which is very helpful. With that skill, you can talk your way out of a speeding ticket and you can procreate (another useful skill). If you haven’t mastered the “looking good” thing, another 20-ish skill will help you procreate. That is, of course, the art of drinking. To be good at that, you’ll want to learn how to cure a hangover and make it to work the next morning.

In your 30s, you acquire such skills as changing diapers (an inevitable side effect from the procreation skill learned in the 20s, which was still fun back then). You also learn how to pay bills, if you are actually going to survive. Some people never learn this very important skill and, let’s face it, you can just stop right there. Mastering the remote control (generally a male skill) comes during this decade. Since you have procreated and generally have no life, your time is spent living vicariously through others, usually through reality television. At this point you are approaching 40% of what you need to know.

In your 40s you don’t really learn anything “new,” but you start to build on previously learned skills. Raising children goes from basic maintenance of feeding, changing, and clothing to actually teaching them the skills they need. You start to relay values and morals, and by the time they are teenagers you have successfully given them 10% of what they need to know to stay alive. Hey, don’t blame me that they’re still sponging off you. You are now a master of multiple remote controls, and you know the difference between the TV, cable, DVD, and stereo remotes by touch. You have gone beyond merely paying bills to actually managing your money. By the end of your 40s you have acquired 50% of what you need to know. That’s why they call it “middle age.”

In your 50s and 60s, your children are grown and out of the house, but still totally dependent on you, so you can’t quite get past 75%. You’re a financial wizard, and you haven’t quite forgotten all the technological skills you learned earlier. Just wait, though, you’ll forget them soon enough.

Sometime after 70 (it varies from person to person), you finally make it. You possess all the knowledge you need to stay alive. However, we all know that the human brain has a finite storage capacity. So in order to use your new-found knowledge (whatever it is, I'm not there yet myself), you need to lose something that you don’t need. So I guess we really don’t need to know how to use the remotes and computers and ATMs and cell phones after all.

Now, most people call this loss of previous knowledge “senility.” But those of us who aren’t there yet don’t understand. You never hear an 80 year old calling another 80 year old senile, do you? They know what they need to know, and the rest of us are taking up valuable space with useless knowledge. They’re trying to tell us, but we don’t listen and call them “senile.”

Now what does all of this have to do with the spoiled teenage brats? Simple. If they would spend one Saturday a month listening to Grandma and Grandpa instead of chatting with the 45 year old guy disguised as a 16 year old on MySpace, they could be ahead of the game. We have a very short window of opportunity to learn from them, so we should take advantage of it. Because when we’re in our 30s and 40s, and we realize that they knew what we needed to know, they’re gone. So kids, listen to them while they’re still around. Oh, and listen to me. Always listen to me.

Florigan, Begin Again

What happened to following rules? Without rules, we have no civilization, we have no order, we have chaos and anarchy. Once we create rules, we need to follow them or they lose their worth. As I sit and watch the returns from the last Presidential primary, I’m reminded of the importance of rules.

Two states – Florida and Michigan – decided that they didn’t want Iowa and New Hampshire to get all the attention of the first caucus and primary, so they moved their primaries ahead on the calendar. The Republican and Democratic leaders told them that they were not to have a primary before Super Tuesday (Feb. 5th). Both ignored the leadership and had their primaries anyway.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you blatantly break the rules, you are not allowed to whine about the consequences of those actions. As soon as Florida and Michigan decided to move their primaries ahead of Super Tuesday, the Republican committee penalized them by removing half their delegates. (This was not good news for Rudy Giuliani, who made the biggest bone-head move in political history by ignoring all the caucuses and primaries and putting everything on Florida.)

The Democrats said that neither state could have any delegates at all because of breaking the rules. Almost immediately, one candidate (cough, Clinton, cough) started whining about it. Why is that? Well, in Florida, all the major candidates had agreed not to campaign. Of course, it was way too late for Hillary to pull her TV commercials, and that public appearance? Oh, that was scheduled way in advance and she had to show up there on Election Day. So of course, she won the majority in Florida.

Then there was Michigan. Obama and Edwards agreed to remove themselves from the ballot completely, but apparently the Clintons didn’t get that memo. (Make no mistake, it is “the Clintons.” As much as they want to say that the McCain campaign is a “third Bush term,” they fail to mention that Hillary’s campaign is definitely a third term of the Clinton administration.) So Hillary got over 50% of the vote, even though “uncommitted” almost beat her. That would have been really funny.

As if on cue, she started talking about the poor voters being “disenfranchised.” In other words, I want those votes! I earned them by stabbing my fellow candidates in the back, and they’re mine! Mine, mine, mine! So in order to get them, I’m going to blame the Democratic leadership for not allowing these poor people to have their votes counted. Nice, Hillary (and Bill). Well played.

So, predictably, the Democratic leadership caved in and allowed Florida and Michigan to have half of their delegates. In other words, they changed the rules in the middle of the game. Didn’t you hate it when the kid who was losing tried to do that? I remember that. I always hit the baseball over the fence easily, so they made up a new “rule” just for me. Not only did I have to hit the ball over the fence, I also had to hit it over the street on the other side of the fence for it to count as a home run. Over the fence was just a double. (Oh, and I had to climb the fence and retrieve the ball, too.)

That’s what this reminds me of. The whiny kid isn’t good enough to win in an even match, so he/she changes the rules in the middle of the game. So now we are teaching our children that this is acceptable behavior. If you’re not good enough, just bitch and moan about it and they’ll change the rules so you can win. If it works for the Presidential candidates, why not for you too?

Of course, in this particular case, Karma won out, because Hillary didn’t win even with the extra votes from Florida and Michigan, so maybe there is a lesson there for the kids. If you’re not good enough to win on your own, and you whine about it and get the rules changed, that still doesn’t mean you are going to win. You’ll look even more pathetic as a whiny loser. So if you’re going to lose anyway, lose with a little dignity and you’ll earn some respect.

Teach your children well...

Well, I’m back to being grumpy. Being sick and tired doesn’t help. When I don’t feel good, I usually just want to be left alone. Today is the opposite. I wanted to be taken care of today and pampered, but I was left alone. Sometimes it works out like that. So as I worked from home today, I sat and stewed.

Anyway, as I told you yesterday, my son graduated from high school. I tried to enjoy it, and I really did. But there were some things that happened that really pissed me off, and I wondered: does anyone display proper manners anymore? What happened to common courtesy?

We got there early and found a good seat. We knew exactly where he would be sitting so we found a place in the bleachers where we could see him. The first thing I noticed was a woman placing her purse, jacket, and other items along the first row of bleachers to save them. OK, fine, people do that. But it was apparent that she was saving a lot of seats. (Keep in mind that each student was given four tickets.) As seats were filling up, she was still saving all those seats. At a couple minutes after noon, when the students were already starting their processional, about 10 people all walked in and sat down there.

That brings up another item. A lot of people were walking in at the last minute, and acted surprised when there were no seats right up front. Well, duh. Hello, this can’t be the first time you’ve attended a school function here (or maybe it is). You should know by now that all the good seats are gone at least an hour before the start. So don’t get this pissy look on your face when the lady in the front row says that she’s saving those 10 seats for someone else.

Those ten other people were all dressed in jeans and T-shirts too. Come on, your kid graduates high school once. Don’t you think you could put on a decent shirt and pants just once? I looked around me and I saw even more. Jeans, and not even nice ones. Dirty ones with holes in them, and shorts too. Baseball caps? Come on. At least make it a Cubs hat.

Now I understand why I saw some of the kids wearing shorts, T-shirts, sneakers, and flip-flops under their gowns. Everyone got written instructions on the proper attire for the ceremony, and those of us who signed up for the newsletter got them emailed to us as well. I don’t remember anyone ever having to tell me that you wear nice clothes to a formal ceremony. And nobody had to tell my son, either.

I’ve been to these ceremonies and awards before for both of my kids, and I know from experience that no matter how many times you remind the audience beforehand, some of them will act like idiots. The principal made a speech at the beginning, telling everyone that the tradition here is to have a solemn ceremony. He asked that any shouts or chants or any other celebratory displays should be kept private within the family setting afterward. That didn’t last long.

We didn’t even get through the letter C before it happened. At the reading of one of the students named Chavez, someone in the audience blasted an air horn and about a dozen people started cheering. An air horn! If ever there was a good reason to say, “WTF?” this was it. It’s one thing when you are all caught up in the moment and proudly shout when your child’s name is called, but to actually bring an air horn with you to graduation? That’s premeditated idiocy.

There were many more acts of total disrespect, but none was worse than the air horn. What was really sad was that we didn’t hear the next child’s name at all. And that happened again and again, every time someone’s family decided to do a long cheer. Yeah, I am very proud of my son, but I was proud of the child next in line too.

And since when did I become a combination seatback and footrest? The guy behind me (wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt, of course) had his knee in my back for two hours. The old lady in front of me (who came in at the last minute because her seat was saved for her) leaned back on my legs for two hours. By the time we got to the letter S, I was on the front edge of my seat with my legs turned to the side, and that wasn’t enough room for them.

Oh, there’s more. Two people who came late didn’t seem to want to climb up alllllll those stairs to find a seat, so they decided that they should sit at the bottom of the bleachers on the stairs. Two other people wanted to take pictures so they came down and sat on the stairs too. Now, I purposely sat next to the stairs about three rows up, so we could make a good exit and be high enough up to take pictures. Again, come early and get a good seat.

The last straw was when we left. They announced that we should all wait until all the graduates had left before exiting the gymnasium. Obviously there were several hundred deaf people in the audience, because as each row of graduates left, audience members left their seats and moved up to the next row closer to the door. Sheesh, people, do you have a hot date or something? Were you jonesing because we asked you to turn off your cell phone for two hours?

I’ll ask again: what happened to common courtesy and manners? I would say that it’s because we live around a lot of rich people with a sense of entitlement, but I’ve seen it when we lived in a poor town too. All I can say is that somebody needs to start teaching their children manners, but it’s not going to be easy to teach them something you never learned yourself.

Goallllllllllllllllll!

I’m not feeling very grumpy today, but I am feeling rather old. My son graduated from high school today. Up until now, I could still claim to have a bit of youth left, but now I am the father of a high school graduate!

I remember promising him, on the day he was born, that I would be there to take care of him and make sure that he got through high school and went to college. Today I made good on that promise and achieved that goal. I successfully kept us both alive long enough to see this day.

It wasn’t easy, and there were many times I didn’t think we’d make it. To start with, he and my wife almost died on the day he was born. He went into fetal distress and they had to perform an emergency C-section. His heart rate dropped nearly in half and the doctor thought she was going to hemorrhage. Luckily they both pulled through, and as I rocked him in the hospital nursery, I made him that promise.

The hard times were just beginning. There have been times of extreme poverty, and a lot of moving around looking for better opportunities. He has lived in over a dozen houses in his 18 years, and has never complained. Well, not very much, anyway. All along he has made the best of it and taken what life has given him. He will have an advantage over the spoiled brats he sat with today.

There have been a lot of good times, too. Another goal of ours was to take the kids to Disney World, and we accomplished that goal in 2000. I can still remember the look of sheer joy when we showed them the tickets and the plane tickets. We were able to get a lot of Internet “freebies” to get us there; there’s no way we could get all of that for free now. We had a great time and brought back a lot of memories.

The next big goal and promise was that they would have their very own home. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but when you have lived in someone else’s house all your life, it means a lot. We always rented because we didn’t have great credit, so we couldn’t get a mortgage. Since we had to rent, we could never save up enough money for that big down payment, so the vicious cycle continued. Once we moved up to the Chicagoland area, we made it a priority to buy a house.

It became even more of a priority after he told me something one day after school. Our landlord’s son went to the same school, and he told the other boys that he was my son’s “landlord.” That was incredibly demeaning and embarrassing. But my son shrugged it off and didn’t let it bother him. But it bothered me. I vowed on that day that I would do whatever it takes to get him his own room that he could paint any color he wanted. When the opportunity came that a lender would give us a mortgage, I didn’t care that it was a sub-prime. He and his sister have their own rooms, we can have a dog now, and nobody is their “landlord.”

I have always been proud of him, but never more proud than I was today. Some of the other kids were wearing shorts and tennis shoes and T-shirts under their gowns. Some of them made fools of themselves, and quite a few parents made fools of themselves (more on that in a later column). But he didn’t have to be told that he needed to get up, shower, shave, and wear a shirt and tie. He knows what it means to be a man and a good citizen, and he is going to be an example for his generation. When he runs for President, he already has one vote; mine. I hope he has yours too.

Chick flicks are from Venus

This weekend marks the opening of the much-anticipated “Sex and the City” movie, so it’s a perfect time to talk about “chick flicks.” All over America, men are being given a choice today: either go to the movie with their significant others, or sleep on the couch for an indefinite period. Tough call.

Actually, it’s not that simple. In addition to actually paying (wasting) good money for a ticket and physically occupying a seat in the theater, you have to pretend to care. Will Carrie and Mr. Big finally get married? (Personally, I’d like to know how Gloria Steinem and the N.O.W. would feel about a TV/movie character whose official name was “Super Jugs,” but we can discuss that another time.) Will Samantha ever be able to settle down with one man? (Yeah, what we’re really thinking is, how much longer can her luck hold out before she gets every possible STD?)

Will Charlotte’s new baby finally give her happiness? And will, uh, the red-haired one, um, Miranda? Is that it? Whatever her name is, will she, um, oh, who cares. Hey, I remembered all the names, isn’t that enough? Do I really have to follow the storyline too?

No, you don’t. Forcing a man to go to a chick flick is unfair and borders on cruel and unusual punishment. This is a perfect opportunity for her to go to this lame movie with her girlfriends. They can dress up in their Jimmy Choo shoes (which cost roughly the same as a mortgage payment) and their best streetwalker miniskirt/bustier combination and make it a girls’ night out at the movie. They could even top off the night with cosmopolitans at the trendiest club in town and come back home to their men with a good buzz on. It’s a win-win situation.

It’s a double standard with women and chick flicks. Why should we men be subjected to two hours of the exact same predictable plot with the same half dozen actors and actresses every time? I’m sorry, but every time I see Julia Roberts, all I can think about is how she stole another woman’s husband away when she was obviously rich enough to buy a guy who was single. She must be a really good actress to pull off the "respectable lady." And I can’t even look at “Charles Award” winner Hugh Grant without laughing. Seriously, don’t even try.

Chick flicks are almost always about relationships, and everyone knows that men do not want to talk about relationships, do not want to hear about relationships, and do not want to see other people talk about or hear about relationships. We want to see Sly Stallone or Will Smith shoot some Commies or aliens and walk out of the theater chanting “U-S-A! U-S-A!” To us, a “relationship” is the method James Bond uses to get information out of the hot Russian spy.

Face it, ladies. The surest way for a guy to lose interest is to start talking about “feelings.” We’re not talkers; we’re doers. We like to stay in our comfort zone when it comes to movies, and the tried-and-true formula for us never changes: Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds guy who took the girl and blasts him into next week, boy gets girl back. (Note: the successful formula requires that girl is scantily-clad throughout most of the movie.)

The way I look at it, if you want the guys to go to your movies, you have to give a little back too. I’ve told my wife that I’ll be happy to go to a chick flick with her as soon as she watches a Bears game or a NASCAR race with me. And by “watch” I mean that she has to pay attention, she cannot use her laptop or Blackberry, and she cannot read a book during the entire game/race. I haven’t been to a chick flick since, and I’m not expecting to go to one anytime soon.

The 2008 Charles Awards

Welcome to the 2008 Charles Awards for Romantic Idiocy. These awards are given to the men who, against all logic, have split from the super hotties they were fortunate enough to marry or date. This award is, of course, named for Charles, the Prince of Wales. Charles is proof positive that men are idiots. Dumping Princess Diana for Camilla Parker Bowles is the height of idiocy. I know what you’re thinking, looks aren’t everything. Sure. You’re probably the same person who said, “Money doesn’t buy happiness” yesterday, aren’t you? On with the awards.

Oh, by the way, I refuse to say, “First Annual Charles Awards.” Don’t say “first annual” anything. That’s just more proof that you’re an idiot (and if you’re a guy, you don’t need any help proving you're an idiot).

Billy Joel – Billy, I’ve got three words for you: Christie freakin’ Brinkley. What exactly were you thinking? You look like a little troll who has lost his bridge; you’re short, fat, and bald. You were lucky enough to land her. Every straight guy in America (myself included) drooled over her swimsuit pictures, and you were the one who won her heart by writing her a song. That certainly gave me, a budding musician and less-than-attractive piano man, hope. And then you threw it all away. Did you think you could do better? You certainly haven’t done any better since, and I’m not sure that would be possible anyway. Every time I see her infomercial with Chuck Norris, I laugh at your expense.

Hugh Grant – This guy demonstrates that no matter how “charmingly befuddled” you look on the screen (blatant Family Guy reference), you’re still an idiot. Let’s recap. You have Elizabeth Hurley waiting for you at home, and instead you choose a $20 streetwalker? In case you didn’t catch that the first time, Elizabeth Hurley. Have you seen her lately? Have you seen her at all? I’d like to know the thought process behind choosing Ms. Devine Brown over Liz Hurley. What, you couldn’t wait a few days until you were heading back that way? Oh, by the way, you are both millionaires! I think either or both of you could have afforded airfare to get together. But no, you gave up Grade A Top Choice for the Extra Value Menu.

Mutt Lange – The newest award winner is the total imbecile who blew it with Shania Twain. A guy who got his nickname the old fashioned way: he earned it. No, they don’t call you Mutt for your charming personality. Shania Twain, possibly the hottest woman in the Milky Way galaxy (I have not visited Andromeda or the Magellanic Clouds, so I can’t speak for them) graciously allowed you to share her life. And then you go and sleep with her best friend? It’s not even like she was out on tour or anything. She took time off just to have your children and be with you. I almost renamed these the Mutt Lange awards just for that.

David Copperfield – What part of Claudia Schiffer did you not understand? Do you have any idea how many guys out there would kill for a supermodel? And not just an airhead blonde supermodel, either. When she was discovered, she was planning to go to law school! Law school! She is a knockout babe and she has a brain! She was not an illusion, David. She was real. You were not supposed to make her vanish. Now our respect for you has disappeared as well.

Vince Vaughn – Vince, you’re my guy, you’re my homey. You have a condo in the Palmolive building across the street from my office, and I’m hoping that I’ll run into you one of these days to show you the totally awesome screenplay that you would be perfect for. (It’s called Countdown and it’s a thriller set in Chicago. If you or any other production company wants to talk option, drop me a line.) But Vince, dude, you’re an idiot. Jennifer Aniston is such a sweetie, how could you break up with her? What exactly were you smoking, and why didn’t you share? You know, you’re not exactly Brad Pitt, either.

Brad Pitt (honorable mention) – He, on the other hand, is Brad Pitt. I know what you’re thinking. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie, either one would be a good choice. But Brad still qualifies for idiocy. On the one hand, you’ve got cutie-pie girl-next-door Jennifer, with the sweet face and surprisingly nice body. On the other hand you’ve got Creepzilla, with the Billy Bob blood and the “I want to adopt a child from every country.” No contest. To quote the last surviving knight, “He chose…poorly.”

That’s it for the first installment of the Charles Awards. There are plenty more out there, and I will have another list soon.

I Want Money!!!

There. I said it. Yes, I want money, and I’m not too proud to admit it. Call me greedy if you want. I can take it. A very wise man once said, “Greed is good. Greed works.” OK, so it was actually Michael Douglas in Wall Street, but I would consider him wise. Anyone who marries Catherine Zeta-Jones at his age has got to have a few brain cells up there.

"Money can’t buy happiness."

"The best things in life are free."

"Money is the root of all evil."

What do all those sayings have in common? Right, you never hear a poor person saying them. Rich people say that all the time. Why is that? I’ll tell you why. Because they know the truth and they don’t want the rest of us to find out. Money does make you happy, it’s not evil, and it’s good to have a lot of money. If you have a lot of money, your bills are paid. You’re not constantly worrying about how to pay ComEd or Comcast. We had an Internet outage over the weekend, and our first reaction was, “But I swear we paid the bill already!” Same thing goes for the electricity, gas, whatever. If you have money, it’s less stressful because you already know who to blame: the stupid power company, not your lack of money.

When you have money, you have peace of mind and no worries. You’re not obsessing over retirement. You’re already retired! You’ve got loads of cash in the bank and you can do what you want, where you want, with whom you want. Hey, that beach on TV looks nice, let’s go there right now! The Cubs are in the playoffs and tickets are $1,000 apiece? Let’s go, let me grab my jacket.

My son is graduating high school in a couple of days. (Ah ha, now we know why you’re stressing out about money.) Yes, now it’s time to pay for college. If you have a lot of money, it doesn’t matter. Sure, you want to go to Harvard? Where’s my checkbook? Oh, you didn’t have good enough grades for Harvard? That’s OK, I’m sure they could use a new library; where’s my checkbook? (I’m just kidding, of course. My son wants to go to Georgetown.)

So the question is, where do I get all that money? Well, I kinda missed out on that Microsoft IPO back in the 80s, so I need to have a Plan B. Or in my case, Plan L, as in “lottery.” I assume that those are real, actual people at those press conferences, so somebody has to be winning those mega jackpots, right? Why not me? I’ll tell you why. Because those idiots at the lottery are stupid. They keep picking the wrong numbers every single time! I play the correct numbers twice a week, and nothing! I don’t care if Linda Kohlmeyer is really hot, she’s an imbecile! How can she smile like that while simultaneously ripping my dreams to shreds? Can I sue them for gross negligence and incompetence?

Oh hey, as long as you’re here, how about clicking on one of those banner ads you see on the right? I’m sure that it’s displaying something interesting right now, and if you click the arrows up and down it will display something else equally interesting.

Where was I? Oh yeah, how to get money. I suppose I could go the whole “hard work and sacrifice” route, but that hasn’t paid off yet. Too bad I was born at the end of the Baby Boomer generation and not a little later, then I could be a whiney Gen-Xer and demand everything for nothing. Money for nothing and chicks for free, indeed.

Did that banner just change? No? Are you sure? Maybe you’d better click on it just to be sure.

We’ve even tried writing. We have a couple of screenplays for sale, and a couple of books out there too. This book is really cool. Whisper Alley and if you like it (and have several million dollars lying around) the screenplay is available to be optioned. The wife has a self-help book at Amazon too (The Portable Coach: A Do-It-Yourself Approach to Personal Coaching)

Somebody told me that if you click on the banner 10 times, a picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones in a bikini appears. Try it and let me know if it works.

I suppose I could answer one of those emails I got saying that I won the British Lottery (funny, I don’t even remember entering) or the one from the kind old widow who just wants to leave me her fortune to carry on “God’s work.” Or maybe that one from the long lost relative that I never heard of, whose jeep overturned in Nigeria. Again, that seems like an awful lot of fuss to go through just for a measly $27 million. I think I’ll hold out for at least $50 million.

I don’t know, I’m pretty much out of ideas. I’ll keep thinking, and meanwhile you go ahead and click on one of those banners. I’ll be here when you get back.

Hail to the Bus Driver

Don’t you love it when it feels like it’s Tuesday, but it’s really Wednesday? Only two more days until the weekend. I love Monday holidays!

Oh yeah, right, grumpy. Give me a minute to get in character.

It’s after Memorial Day, which means that the summer driving season is upon us. According to the news, Chicago has the highest gasoline prices in the nation. Wow, big shock there. Gas is well over $4.00 per gallon everywhere now, and it’s only going to go up higher. They’re saying that it’ll be over $5.00 by the 4th of July. Also, as part of the deal to avert the latest “doomsday,” the wonderful idiot governor of Illinois struck a deal to let everyone over 65 ride the CTA, Metra, and Pace buses for free. Put that all together, and we’re seeing a lot more people riding public transportation.

So, whether you’re just starting out or if you’ve been riding the trains and buses for years, here are some tips to keep yourself from being soundly beaten by your fellow passengers (especially if you’re on my bus).

• Be Prepared – like the old Boy Scout motto, have your fare ready and act like you've done this before (because you have, about a million times). Here comes the bus, get in line! Yes, you! Stop looking at the new Victoria’s Secret window display. Have some consideration for your fellow passengers. The rest of us planned ahead and were here five minutes ago to allow extra time to check out the 10 foot high photo of the hot redhead in the bra and panties. (Well, at least some of us…ahem…)
  
  There’s one guy who gets on at the Erie Street stop. Every single day he gets on the #125 Water Tower Express and stands there. Then he slowwwwwly pulls out his wallet, gets out his pass, shoves it in the bus driver’s face (like three inches from his/her eye), then slowwwwwly puts it back in his wallet and even more slowwwwwly walks to his seat. (He actually takes up two seats, but who’s counting? Well, to be honest, I’m counting.) Dude! Have the damn pass out and ready to show! We’re trying to catch our train down at Ogilvie, OK?
  
  
• Ladies first – It pains me to have to even mention this. Were you all brought up by wolves or something? No, I guess not, because I’m pretty sure that wolves have manners. Every day I see the same thing: There’s always this guy in a suit, looking important, apparently doing a corporate takeover with his Blackberry. (Note: I’m sure I’ll devote a separate column to those stupid things later.) He’s got his briefcase taking up the seat next to him, and there are several ladies standing in the aisle. What a jerk. His suit is probably off the rack, too.
  
  Now I don’t claim to be perfect, far from it. But I was taught to stand for a lady. I have a bad knee, and I’m still recovering from a partially torn Achilles tendon. To be honest, between my knee and my foot I’m in pain pretty much all the time now. But don’t tell my wife, because she’ll tell me go back to the doctor. (I know what you’re thinking; doesn’t she read your blog? Yes, but I thought of that. I’m going to tell her that this one is really boring and she should skip it.) My point is that even when I’m on crutches or a cane, I still stand up and give my seat to a lady. Surely the healthy 20-something yuppie can afford to put down that damn PDA and stand up for a few minutes.
  
  
• Know Where You’re Going – The bus driver is a bus driver. He is not the Bureau of Travel and Tourism. He is not Google Maps, and he is not the RTA Trip Planner. He is the bus driver. Stop asking him directions! While you are asking him, “Which bus do I take to get to Millennium Park?” the light just turned red. Now we have to wait through another cycle, and we’re going to miss our shot at catching an earlier train home. Thanks a lot. Hey! You see that thing right behind you? It’s called a shelter. Most of the bus stops have one, especially the ones in the city. You see that big thing on the wall of it? The thing that reads, “CTA Bus and Rail Map?” If you look closely, you’ll see that it’s a map! Read it! You want to know how to get to Millennium Park? Read the map!
  
  
• Know the Difference between Front and Back – It’s really very simple. Maybe too simple, perhaps that’s what is confusing you. You get on the bus in the front, and you exit the bus via the rear door. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen someone walk all the way from the back of the bus, past the rear door, and get off the bus in the front. Meanwhile, the people who want to board the bus (and cannot legally board the bus through the rear door, for obvious reasons) have to wait. Meanwhile – you guessed it – the light just changed and we have to wait through another cycle, so we’re not going to make that train. Thanks again. Between you and the “Does this bus go to Randolph Street?” guy we’re never going to make that train.
  
  
• Voices Carry – It seems as though everyone has a cell phone now, even little kids. But let’s keep in mind that we are all in a small place, packed in like sardines. I don’t want to hear the blow-by-blow details (no pun intended, I think) of your one-night stand last night and how drunk you were. My cell phone only comes out once in a great while. If I’m on a different train than my normal train (probably because someone had to wait for someone else to exit in the front so they could ask the bus driver for directions) then I make a quick call so my family knows when to pick me up. That’s it. That’s enough. And please remember that speaking a foreign language does not make you exempt. Just because we don’t understand you doesn’t mean we can’t hear you. Pipe down or power down.
  

Try to keep these helpful tips in mind as you take advantage of public transportation, and remember to smile at your fellow travelers. Perhaps you could strike up a conversation with them. Brighten their day.

Oh, right, right, grumpy. I keep forgetting. Scratch that. Don’t smile. Grr.

A Greenpeace of My Mind

Today is May 27, 2008. Memorial Day weekend has come and gone, and the temperature in downtown Chicago today was around 45. I work on Michigan Ave., near the John Hancock building. We’re pretty close to the lake, and my office building is on the corner of Walton and Michigan. I’ve been told that Walton is the windiest street in Chicago. Today (like most days) I believe it. The wind had to be gusting close to 40 mph on Walton. When you factor in the wind chill, that’s not exactly May 27th weather, now is it? (Wait a minute; wind chill in May?)

Let’s put it this way: if the Phoenix Lander had missed the polar ice of Mars, gotten lost, and landed in Chicago, we wouldn’t have known the difference until the camera went online. And even then, the people back at JPL in California would have said, “Hey, look! Olympus Mons looks just like the Sears Tower!”

My point, of course, is that today was absolutely not the day for the Greenpeace-niks to harass me on the street. They stand out there every day; about 20 years old, fresh-faced and thinking that they’re making a big difference in the world. In reality, what they’re really doing is pissing me off. I’m minding my own business, trying to get to work or catch my bus or grab a bite to eat at noontime, when one of them blocks my way and asks, “Do you care about the environment?”

How am I supposed to answer that? Of course I care about the environment. I recycle, I own an E85 car, and I take public transportation to and from work. Even as I type this, I’m sitting on the Metra train, on my way home. Of course I care about the environment. If I said no, I’d really look like a jerk, wouldn’t I? I usually just say yes and keep walking. I know that their goal is to get me to stop and talk and sign their petition.

Once I looked at the Greenpeace-nik and said, “Sure I care about the environment. My job is all done digitally. I don’t use any paper at all. That petition you have there and those brochures you’re handing out. Are you proud of yourself for killing all those trees?” Yeah, that shut him up. Made me feel real good for about five seconds until the guilt set in. Damn him for looking so innocent. I swear I saw his lip tremble and tears well up.

So today when he asked me, “Do you care about the environment?” I was in no mood. I said, “Actually, I’m ready for some of that global warming! Tell Al Gore to send some of it over here, OK?” (Where is Big Al anyway? Ever since he picked up his Nobel prize and his 7-figure check, I haven’t heard a lot out of him.)

Of course, if I hadn’t been in a hurry to catch my bus down to the train station (public transportation, lowering my carbon footprint, remember?), the Greenpeace-nik would have been happy to explain to me that it’s not really “Global Warming,” it’s actually “Global Climate Change.” At least that’s what my daughter says. She’s the hippie flower-child throwback of the family. Wears tie-dye shirts, listens to the Beatles. She’s a vegetarian, too. My god, she’s one of them.

But I’ve noticed that they didn’t start saying “Global Climate Change” until we started getting cold weather all of a sudden. A scientist in Russia said that we were actually starting to enter another Ice Age, and the Global Warming people said, “Well, of course it’s going to get colder.” But I thought it was warming? No, they said, it’s “climate change.” Oh, so global warming makes it hotter and makes it cooler too? Yes, global warming makes it cold. Because since humans have started burning fossil fuels, the temperature of the Earth has gone up one degree. And that’s why it’s cold. Oh, OK, thanks for explaining that.

Meanwhile, I’m shivering out on Michigan Ave. because I refuse to take my Bears coat back out of the closet. I don’t have many fashion rules, but one is that you don’t wear winter coats after Memorial Day. Maybe Al can lend me a sweater.

Introduction

Welcome to my blog. This first entry will tell you a little about me and what to expect. First, let me explain the name. I don’t really consider myself “grumpy” or “old,” but the name seems to fit. My wife and kids are always rolling their eyes because I go into a “tirade,” or “get on my soapbox,” as they call it. One of my favorite things to say is, “If everyone would just shut up and listen to me, the world would run much more smoothly.” I would run for President except for:
a) I have been arrested at least once in my life;
b) I have smoked pot at least once (and admittedly inhaled);
and most importantly,
c) I don’t want to age 10 years for every year in office.

I’m in my mid 40s, so that’s not exactly old, but I’ve always been very mature for my age and I’ve been told that I have an “old soul,” whatever the hell that means. No matter how many times my kids call me a “dinosaur” or make fun of me for listening to classic rock music, I don’t think I’m that old. But I hope to be one day. I was born in 1964, which is defined as the last year of the Baby Boomer generation. My goal is to eventually be known as the last surviving Baby Boomer, so I plan to be around for a very long time.

I wanted to include Chicago in the name of my blog because I love Chicago. I grew up in the Midwest and I have only lived in the Chicago suburbs since 2000, but I have always considered Chicago my town. Working downtown is a blast, except for the commute. (You can expect to see a rant or two about the commute sometime.) In my opinion, Chicago is the greatest city in the world. We have world-class restaurants and hotels, art and theater, diverse architecture styles, and the best sports fans in the world. Our weather is incredible, too. California? Florida? Hawaii? Boring! What’s the fun in 85 degrees and sunny every day out of the year? We have our share of beautiful sunny days in the summertime, but we also have spring, fall, and winter. Oh boy, do we ever have winter! It’s never boring in Chicago. But I won’t be limiting my posts to the Chicagoland area. If you don’t live in Chicago, you might learn a little about it, but don’t feel as though you have to live here to read this blog.

I’ve been married for nearly 20 years and am the proud father of two children. I was a stay-at-home Dad for the first 10 years or so, back before the “Mr. Mom” fad became cool. (I really hate that term, by the way. Men are just as capable of being parents as women. Be prepared for several rants on that subject.) We moved around a lot when the kids were little, living overseas for a few years. We have settled down in one place now, but I will have a lot to say about my travels before and after children.

One quick note: have some fun with this, because I plan to. Am I totally serious about this? Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. Remember, Steven Colbert is actually a Democrat in real life. So before you send me death threats because I said something bad about your fluffy kitty cat, give it a rest and get a life.

So that’s about it for the introduction. Bored yet? If so, fine, go read someone else’s blog or write your own. If not, keep posted, the posts are just starting. Between the commute, kids, winter, and the idiots in Washington, this blog practically writes itself!