Please don’t eat me! I have a wife and kids. Eat them!

Posted on December 2, 2008 by ragingdad
Raging Dad, simpsonified.

Raging Dad, simpsonified.

I have always been a big fan of The Simpsons. I was in sixth or seventh grade when the show premiered, and our family adopted it as our Sunday activity right from the beginning. In fact, Raging Hippie Grandma managed to videotape the entire first six seasons or so—which was pretty damn cool once I got to college, ’cause DVDs didn’t exist yet and the reruns always had some of the gags cut out for time. The only way we could see the complete episodes was to fire up the VCR and watch my Super Long Play versions with the period commercials and all.

Over January break one year, a few of us had an idea to create a Web site that would function as a concordance for the series. The only fan sites on the fledgling Internet at the time featured information that the author happened to find cool. As a surfer, you couldn’t interact with the content. We had a vision that you could go to the site and enter a simple search that would crunch through an elaborate back-end database to help you to find virtually anything Simpsons-related that you wanted.

To achieve this, we needed to systematically catalog in detail the entire content of each episode: what characters appeared in each scene, quotes, film references, etc. We created a spreadsheet for tracking information and hooked four VCRs up in a daisy chain to dupe the tapes so we could each tackle a couple of seasons. Such lofty plans for a bunch of nerds at a small liberal arts college.

simpsons-coverOf course, we didn’t make any progress, and the project never got off the ground. Within a year of dreaming up the project, Matt Groening released the book “The Simpsons: A Complete Guide to Our Favorite Family,” which wasn’t interactive, but pretty much became our bible, and we were on to bigger and brighter things. Soon we could see the coming of DVDs, and it was clear that my videotapes would soon be obsolete (though the early 90s commercials are fun to watch).

The Simpsons has always been one of the best sources for sharp commentary on popular culture. I will admit to losing touch with the show over the last ten years. I have generally bought into the prevailing opinion that the show had lost its relevancy, that the glory days of seasons three through six were the stuff of nostalgia and fond memories.

However, someone sent me the intro to a recent episode, where an Apple Store opens in the Springfield Mall. It perfectly captures the fascination/love/hatred of the whole Apple phenomenon. I am a huge Apple supporter, and have never felt such loyalty to any other brand. But Groening and crew hit this shit on the head!

Check it out. Hopefully YouTube won’t yank it down…

UPDATE: Fox totally made YouTube take down the full version, the bastards. Click here to watch the full opening (also the entire episode) on Hulu. A shortened version is still on YouTube, and is below.


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Leopard skin let the record spin

Posted on November 30, 2008 by ragingdad
Thorn (silver spotted) and Delilah (classic marble)

Our Savannahs: Thorn (silver spotted) and Delilah (classic marble)

Our cat, Thorn, has one of the most feeble meows I‘ve ever heard from a cat. Granted, Raging Mom and I had Siamese cats for years, so we are used to quite a howl from our felines (or fe-lions, as Sonny says). The two Savannahs we have now are stunning creatures, but they’ve got nothing when it comes to pipes.

Imagine my surprise the other day, when Thorn’s voice suddenly took on an incredible volume, resembling the tortured call of a howling pooch. For two days we thought this odd, but didn’t really worry too much about what could be the underlying reason for this. However, when Thorn began to raise her hind quarters skyward and paw the earth beneath her, I began to understand what was going on.

And when our other female cat, Delilah, tried to mount her from behind, I really knew what was going on.

I had never had a cat that went into heat before. Scratch that: once when I was a kid, we had a Siamese cat named Smokey. He was a shithead, to be frank. I’ve never feared a cat, save this little terror. He was the most hostile little kitten I’d ever seen, and his mood became inexplicably worse as he grew older. After we’d had Smokey about eight months, we were alarmed to realize that our little guy Smokey was actually a girl, and was in raging heat. Smokey finally bit one of us kids pretty badly, and s/he took a trip to the vet with Raging Grandpa John, never to return.

The feline uterus (Wikipedia)

The feline uterus (Wikipedia)

Needless to say, a little hot lesbian-cat action was certainly an improvement to a hissing beast biting at the children, so things could have been a lot worse. Evidently, cat’s go into heat around six months, sometimes earlier. Lo and behold, Thorn is right in that window. So we took her in to the vet and they had their way with her little kitty tubes.

When we take our cats in to see the vet, they always ooh and ahh because most folks haven’t seen Savannahs before. They are an exotic breed, only a few generations from the gentle fishing cat, the African Serval. I usually take the kitties to a different vet—not fancy, but a step up from where we went for the ovario-hysterectomy—but they were charging twice as much for the procedure. Damn. It felt a bit like sneaking into a dark alley for an underground surgery.

My shaved kitty, sleeping and feeling better.

My shaved kitty, sleeping and feeling better.

Actually, it was just fine and they were good to my kitty. Except they inexplicably shaved half of her abdomen all the way up her side, and the insides of both of her legs. I’ve had a few cats spayed over the years, and I’ve never seen the shaving done with such zeal. Weird.

Anyway, her fur is starting to grow back and she is back to her feeble-voiced self. And the lesbian action? Well, that seems to have gone as well. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.

Song of the day: “High 5 (Rock the Catskills),” by Beck.

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Sonny doesn’t even like blueberries

Posted on November 29, 2008 by ragingdad

dsc_6174On Friday morning I woke up to handle the kids while Raging Mom slept in. We had a tube of cinnamon rolls, and I had my baking hat on. After they were cooked, frosted and passed out to enjoy, Sonny said to me, “Daddy, I love you more than blueberries.”

How touching, I thought. The boy has reached deep down into his four-year-old consciousness and pulled out a comparison rich with meaning.

I thought this, until Connie said, “Dad, he doesn’t even like blueberries.”

Bewildered, I looked to the boy for his response.

“No, I don’t like blueberries,” he said, matter-of-factly.

About this time, Raging Mom strolled into the kitchen and I relayed the story of Sonny’s half-hearted expression of love. Thinking she could improve upon the situation (her first raging mistake), Raging Mom asked Sonny, “How about cinnamon rolls? Do you love daddy more than cinnamon rolls?”

Sonny had to think about this one. “Ohhh. [pause] I love cinnamon rolls the most.”

Brutal.

Raging Mom said my consolation prize was that he had to think about it for a few seconds before he answered. It is the small victories we look for in the Raging Household.

Song of the day: “Orange Ball of Love,” by The Mountain Goats.

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I will hold my breath until all these shivers subside

Posted on November 24, 2008 by ragingdad

This past summer, on our visit to Minnesota, we were able to see Raging Mom’s grandmother’s new apartment. She had moved out of her home, looking for a smaller place that was closer to town, just as many folks do when they are in their 80s.

It was a lovely little apartment with ample closet space and a nice gas fireplace with simulated flickering fire light; it is perfect for her needs. Raging Great Grammy had a little dog at her old place, and one of the sad parts of moving into senior housing was giving up her pet. Being a widow of almost 10 years, companionship had become very important. Of course, the upside is that now she has an entire community of folks to tap into.

It’s like a dorm for old folks. Seriously, I am betting you that those old birds party like rock stars. I saw the puzzle room, and let me tell you, when the nuclear winter comes they are set for years.

Sonny pets the slumbering hound.

Sonny pets the slumbering hound.

As we were sitting talking with Raging Great Grammy, the kids were playing with her small box of toys. Anytime there is a new set of toys to dig into, they get interested. Plus, some of these were pretty sweet. She had a He-Man guy and some trucks. Not bad for the old folks’ home!

Anyway, I was sitting in a chair across from the fireplace, and noticed a small stuffed dog on a blanket underneath a side table. Nothing about the toy stood out to me right away, it was your typical stuffed dog. It looked comfy snoozing on its pillow.

As I continued to watch it, I began to notice something odd about it. After a while I realized what it was: the creepy thing was breathing! Powered by batteries, the dog’s side rises and falls at a pace that completely resembles a slumbering animals breath rate.

Amazing. I asked Raging Great Grammy about it, half wondering if she talked to the thing, fed it and took it for walks to the puzzle room. It turns out that one of her grandkids gave it to her when she moved. She said it makes her smile; it reminds her of home. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be in that situation, leaving your home of many years and downsizing all of your belongings into a shoebox-sized apartment. And with all of that stress, to also have to give up your furry companion.

Even though that fake breathing dog gave me the heebie jeebies, I guess the fact Raging Great Grammy is able to find some comfort from its presence is pretty cool.

I don’t want to get old.

Song of the day: “Try Not To Breathe,” by R.E.M.

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When all tomorrows are gone there will be teeth in the grass

Posted on November 21, 2008 by ragingdad
Before.

Before.

Careful examination of the situation.

Careful examination of the situation.

Pulling!

Pulling!

Excitement.

Excitement.

Patience.

Patience.

Anxiety.

Anxiety.

"Mom, I look scary. Let's take a scary-face picture."

"Mom, I look scary. Let's take a scary-face picture."

[Photos and captions courtesy Raging Mom.]

Song of the day: “Teeth In The Grass,” by Iron & Wine.

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There is nothing as lucky as easy or free

Posted on November 19, 2008 by ragingdad

I‘ve been thinking a lot, lately, about friends. Part of it is that I have reconnected on Facebook with a passel of high school and college classmates who I’d lost touch with. You know what? I did not expect to have such a good time reconnecting with who I was not so close with, seeing what they are doing, discovering who has families now, and where careers and life have taken them.

With getting older comes the greater likelihood of death, I suppose. When I was a teen growing up in Northern Minnesota, I knew an alarming number of kids and folks who died. Fortunately, I have had a nice stretch without any close friends or relatives dying. But time and tide wait for no man.

handtolightLast week a good friend from work passed away. Cancer took Bruce on a Thursday morning. He’d survived colon cancer a few years ago, but it returned earlier this year and invaded his body in numerous places. Bruce was one of the sweetest, gentlest fellows I’ve ever known. He had a smile on his face all the time. I can’t see anything but his grin when I think of him.

He and his partner invited us out to ride on their speedboat one weekend the summer before last. Bruce understood that we were having a hard time with the relocation to Portland, and went to pains to make sure that we felt welcome. We had a blast watching my daughter and his granddaughter play together on the banks of the Columbia River.

One of the things that has flashed through my head these past few days is how I almost didn’t know Bruce. I mean, he was probably almost 50 years old and I only knew him for a little more than two years—a tiny portion of his life. We didn’t spend much time together outside of work; we wanted to do more of it. But, we were busy and time escaped us both and now he’s gone. That bothered me for a couple of days, until I realized that I was lucky enough to have moved to Portland at a time in this world where our paths crossed and I was able to know him for a short while.

And I guess that was a pretty darn good deal for me.

More on this topic to come. Two former colleagues of mine from Minneapolis are battling cancer. One of them, Kristen, is fighting her last fight, and I am afraid the disease has the upper hand. I don’t believe in miracles, but I am hoping she’s got a stroke of luck in her back pocket.

Song of the day: “Easy/Lucky/Free,” by Bright Eyes. Watch this one, it’s a pretty remarkable video.

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If they were right, I’d agree, but it’s them they know not me

Posted on November 16, 2008 by ragingdad

You know those forwarded e-mails that you occasionally (or regularly) get? The kind that pass along warnings that are nothing more than a new (or not so new) take on an urban legend. Sometimes, they feature troublesome political content that is hard to ignore.

eid-stamp-smallI received one of these e-mails the other day. Basically, it is a call to citizens to boycott a postage stamp that commemorates the Islamic holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha, indicating that “To use this stamp would be a slap in the face to all those Americans who died at the hands of those whom this stamp honors.” It goes on to ask that the reader remember tragedies attributed to Muslim fundamentalists, such as the bombings of PanAm Flight 103, American embassies in Africa and the attacks of September 11, 2001.

Read the full message and Snopes’ analysis of it here.

This is an ignorant and offensive call to arms. First of all, the direct translation of the Islamic calligraphy on the stamp is “blessed festival,” which is paraphrased as “May your religious holiday be blessed.” It is ironic that this message—which can be read as both inclusive and non-specific to Muslims—is perceived as threatening.

Second of all, the Eids are part of the Muslim faith and attributing them to Muslim fundamentalist ideology is no different than arguing that fundamentalist Christian attacks on abortion clinics are reason to boycott Jesus stamps and Christmas carols.

Further, it is not as though the money generated by the stamp benefits any Muslim organizations. Even George W. Bush has extended greetings to Muslims (who will be this country’s second-largest faith by 2010) in celebration of the Eids.

Receiving this e-mail so close to Veteran’s Day was particularly troubling to me. We celebrate the lives of soldiers who fought and died overseas so that we can enjoy the freedoms laid out in our Constitution, including the freedom to practice (or not practice) the religion of our choice. I can hear Walter Sobchak now: “I didn’t watch my buddies die face down in the muck for you to shit on my Arab neighbor’s Muslim stamp!”

I am also planning on picking up these stamps for our holiday cards this year, along with Hanukkah and Kwanzaa stamps. Why don’t they make atheist stamps?

Song of the day: “Father And Son,” Yusef Islam (née Cat Stevens).

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If tomorrow’s sun doesn’t shine

Posted on November 14, 2008 by ragingdad
That funk is pretty, though.

That funk is pretty, though.

For those of you who have never been to the Pacific Northwest, it rains a fuckin’ lot here. November arrives and she brings darkness and constant drizzle with her. And she’s here to stay for the next several months.

This isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, I have on occasion been known to yearn for the rainy season. Part of that may be because I am used to the frozen tundra of Hoth Northern Minnesota, where human beings really ought not to live.

This morning—and the next few, it seems—was stunning with full sunshine. As I walked out of the house, squinting my eyes and shielding them from the strange ball of light in the sky, I realized that our driveway is completely covered in moss. Trust me, this doesn’t happen in Minnesota. The moss is everywhere. Evidently, people have to get power washers out here and spray it away.

I am not yet used to this strange land.

Song of the day: “Clementine,” by Pink Martini.

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Santa Claws is coming to town

Posted on November 9, 2008 by ragingdad
Placing garbage in your stalking. (pun intended)

Placing garbage in your stalking. (pun intended)

One of the benefits of being less than three months out from Christmas is that we can use Santa as a tool to manipulate the children into good behavior. The whole “he knows if you’ve been bad or good” shtick is brilliant, and I am not above bilking it for all it’s worth.

When I was a kid, everyone worried that if you were naughty, Santa would leave a lump of coal in your stocking on Christmas eve. This just doesn’t resonate with today’s kids. I mean, this isn’t Oliver Twist. No sir. At the Raging Home, if you have been an awful child, Santa brings you garbage. Stinking, putrid garbage. And we’re not talking just a lump. The kids are at risk of waking up on Christmas morning to find a stocking bulging with refuse, soaked through and dripping with rotting eggs and leaking diapers, infested with maggots and teeming with flies.

It’s nasty.

Fortunately, the Raging Kids have never actually had this happen, because they work hard to behave (mostly) like angels running up to the holidays. *

These are tricks learned from my parents, who enjoyed singing “Santa Clause Is Coming to Town,” in a semi-threatening way in order to motivate me and my Raging Siblings, a practice I’ve talked about before.

Video of the day: “Santa Claus is Coming To Town,” performed by Dokken.

Alright, now for a practical question. We are thinking about getting Connie (age 6) a Nintendo DS. It sounds like plenty of folks have gotten them for kids this age (and younger), but I’m curious if any of my Raging Readers have experience with this toy and young kids. Any game suggestions? Take the poll below, and help me make the decision.

[Admission: This purchase is a bit of a recompense purchase, to right the wrongs of my parents having never purchased a video game console for me as a child. Guilt is always a good reason for making a purchase, eh?!]

* A note to anyone who takes this too seriously: I tend to exaggerate when I write. Don’t we all? So, lighten up or go read BHJ’s blog where he completely enters a fictional universe (rather brilliantly), and has accumulated some haters.

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P is for Porkins

Posted on November 6, 2008 by ragingdad
Jek Tono Porkins. Evidence that fat jokes were still funny a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.

Jek Tono Porkins. Evidence that fat jokes date back to a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.

If you have been reading Raging Dad for even a few weeks, you have likely noticed that I, your humble narrator, moonlight as a geek. Comics, films, Star Wars, music, etc. There are a few things that I am way into that I have yet to unleash on you. In good time, dear Raging Reader. For now, I entertain you with funny drawings of the likes of the late (and fictional) Porkins.

A friend of mine sent me a link the other day for this Web site, which features alphabet cards with Star Wars characters on them. Let me tell you, if these things existed in flash card format, my boys would be reading at tenth grade level by now. I was particularly thrilled to find that the artist selected secondary characters for use in the deck, skipping such obvious choices as any of the Skywalkers, Boba Fett or Lobot. Instead, we get “M is for Mothma,” and “U is for Ugnaught.”

Beautiful stuff.

Song of the day: “Chewbacca,” by Supernova.

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