Why.

Changes.

People, gay men in particular, that hyperventilate and get downright evil when a man decides to shave his beard down to a goatee or grow a beard or change it up a bit and go with just a mustache need to calm the hell down. It’s not the critic’s face and quite frankly it’s none of their business. When I read comments from others about someone’s decision to change it up a bit and they scream in anguish usually reserved for the likes of nuclear explosions, plagues and famine, someone needs a reminder to keep things in perspective.

When I shaved off my handlebar mustache for charity last fall you would have sworn I had just slapped my grandmother and sold her into slavery. Shaving off that monstrosity of a mustache boosted my self esteem ten-fold and it made me feel good about myself. Will I grow another one? Perhaps.

A fellow blogger recently shaved his big beard down to a mustache. The cries from the peanut gallery sound like he just betrayed his country and sold the launch codes to the Russians. Calm down people, it’s only facial hair and odds are he’ll grow another beard someday.

I enjoy looking at beards. I also enjoy mustaches and clean shaven faces. But what’s more important is the person inside. There’s a lot of beautiful people out there and they all look different and can choose to change how they look without needing to hear judgment and the like.

I was recently chastised by a beard fan because my charity “promoted the destruction of facial hair”. No, my charitable efforts helped raise money for homeless kids, and if losing a mustache for a while was going to help a teen sleep somewhere other than the streets then I’m going to shave it off and raise the money.

This has been bugging me for a while and I finally felt the need to get it off my chest. It’s only hair. It’ll grow back when the owner wants it to.

He’s still the same guy inside.

Talent.

Earl is watching “American Idol” off the DVR as I type. I grew tired of this show years ago but Earl holds the torch and watches with jaded interest. I can’t take the caterwauling.

I took a cursory glance as I found something else to do, namely fold laundry, and quite frankly, this show where they announced the newest Top 10 has to be one of the most awkwardly staged shows I’ve seen in a while. The huge audience can’t see the results, the judges can’t see the results, only the home audience sees the secret announcement. The announcer says in a hushed whisper, “The password is AWKWARD.” After Ryan Seacrest (he’s grown enough to shave like a big boy now!) makes one of the contestants burst into tears, they walk down a makeshift hallway, making small talk through the tears and then they stand in the dark. Once in the dark, Ryan has an awkward conversation with the contestant, who has absolutely no lights on them. They didn’t even try a half-light.

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After they talk in the dark, well Ryan is lit up but the contestant isn’t, they open the stage doors so they can see the judges reaction. Then they show the audience. Oh, then they have the contestant sing off-key to a karaoke track with the mic turned up to only 1, maybe 2, while the backing track is at 15. The woo-woo people are louder than the contestant.

What the hell.

“American Idol” has become such a train wreck that I truly missed the days when they dressed the judges up like Klingons.

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Time.

So today begins “Daylight Saving Time” in the United States and presumably Canada, since they tend to emulate us up there. Since 2007, the second Sunday in March has been deemed the day when we set our clocks ahead one hour in the interest of moving time to when we are suppose to be at our busiest. Apparently this is to help control energy costs, though many studies show that we actually use more energy when DST is in effect.

I have made my opinion known on countless occasions but I’ll say it again. I despise Daylight Saving Time. I despise it from the very core of my being and it’s all a bunch of smoke and mirrors to make the sheep think that they have “more daylight”. They don’t have any more daylight today than if they did if we were still on Standard Time, but because we jimmy the numbers in this way, Finster and Mabel can go to soccer practice and get awards for remembering to breathe in the evening while Power Mommy watches from her running, air conditioned Hummer H3 and the Nanny watches from the sidelines, providing updates via text message to Power Mommy.

I don’t know if you can tell this or not but moving the clocks ahead one hour makes me cranky. I am told when to sleep, when to work, when to eat and when to take a dump based on an instrument on the wall instead of listening to my body. Circadian rhythms be damned, you will sleep when we tell you to sleep and that’s the way it is because “the day is longer.” To that I abbreviate, STFU.

I love clocks. I really do, but we shouldn’t be slaves to a clock. Moving the clocks back and forth every year is completely asinine a defies any shreds of common sense or logic. You want to jimmy a man-made assignment of a variable to this moment? Move the friggin’ clocks ahead a half-hour and be done with it. Don’t ever touch them again. Just do it. It’s not that hard.

I’m going back to bed.

Journalism.

I have recently disconnected my habit of watching podcasts from a well-known tech podcast source. (Well, it’s well known in the geek world). Not only did I decide to calm down on podcast consumption at the beginning of the year when I was redefining my focus on what was important, but there was one other thing that bothered me about the podcasts and I couldn’t let it go unnoticed.

The host of the podcast made the off-handed comment that the developer of an app that the podcast had negatively reviewed was upset. The host then went on to say that if he knew that the developer was a friend of his, he wouldn’t have been as harsh in his review of the application.

This kinda bothered me.

When a person tunes into the media, whether it be the mainstream news media or the tech media or to some extent, a blogger’s work, one expects that there be honest views expressed through such media, especially if this source is sponsored by ad content from prominent companies. When your tagline contains the phrase “from people you trust”, one would think that you’re telling the truth, right? Admitting during a podcast that you wouldn’t have been as, well, truthful with a critique if you realized that you knew the author of the product that was being critiqued is kind of like saying, “I wouldn’t ask the CEO about the money they laundered because we’re friends.” You’re demonstrating bias with this sort of approach, which is fine if that’s how you advertise yourself and represent your work, but when you use “from people you trust” and then do stuff like that, it carries the same amount of weight as the tagline “Fox News, Fair and Balanced” and then you go finding six ways from Sunday to report that Romney must have won and the election was all wrong due to impossible mathamatics.

While it sounds like I’m picking on this particular podcaster, the truth of the matter is that there’s a lot of garbage out there claiming to be fair and balanced news. I read on a blog that a 747 SLAMMED into a Dash 8 at an airport. Writing colorful words like “slammed” does amazing things for click responses (which in turns, generates lots of ad revenue) but the truth of the matter is, the 747’s wing nicked the wing of the other airplane. There were no injuries, no hysterics and minimal impact to either airplane. It’s hard to find any credibility in a blogger or podcaster that claims to be a news source and then embellishes the truth or modifies their public opinion on a topic due to personal connections.

Fair and balanced indeed.

If news bloggers (as opposed to other kinds of bloggers, such as me. I have no idea what I’m talking about most of the time) want to be considered a credible media outlet, they need to stick to the facts without color, bias or prejudice. If you’re not a news blogger but a commentator, just be true to your comments and state that as such on your blog or podcast. That’s all I ask.

Frightful.

So the weather is getting really crappy. This morning it was clear and the roads were bare but now that it is lunch time there is a couple of inches of snow on the ground. They’re telling us that the snow will change over the sleet and ice just in time for the commute home.

And I forgot to put the ice skates on the Jeep today.

I normally don’t mind driving in any kind of weather, after all, I am known for driving right into the middle of severe thunderstorms and trying to get as close to tornadic activity as possible, but one of the things that makes all this stuff troublesome is the other drivers on the road. Driving to Dunkin’ Donuts a little while ago, the woman in the car in front of me turned her left turn signal on and then proceeded to make a right turn, where she then swung her car around and zoomed across the three lanes to make her intended left hand turn. The weather makes the bad drivers worse and it makes the crazy people crazier. I always talk about this sort of thing and you’d think after 44 years I’d be used to crazy drivers during a snow storm but I’m not.

I don’t know where all the common sense falls to in times like these but I wish people would stop for a moment and pick that common sense back up. It’s quite valuable.

The Good Samaritan Rule.

The recent shooting of firemen in Webster, N.Y. had me thinking a little bit during my drive this morning. For those unfamiliar with the tragedy, an armed man set fire to a house and called the fire department. When the firefighters arrived on the scene, he shot at them, killing two of the men. He just wanted to kill people that day.

This got me to thinking a little bit. When I was commuting on a daily basis, it wouldn’t be a rare event to see a car off the road along the Thruway during the winter months. Driving in Central New York between November and April can be a challenge if you’re not accustomed to the adverse winter conditions this area is known for. I would often see cars with out-of-state plates sitting in the middle of the roadway or off in a median. If it looked like it just happened, I would stop and make sure the driver was ok and see if they needed to make a phone call or something. I’ve always thought that it was the right thing to do. I figure if people are driving on the Thruway with out-of-state plates and they’ve gone off the road, they’re probably not familiar with the area and could use a little help.

Here’s the thing. The shooting in Webster has me rethinking this. And quite frankly, that’s unfortunate. Who’s to say that there isn’t some maniac sitting in the car waiting for a Good Samaritan to stop by. Naturally one would hope that this isn’t the case, but with all the negativity in the world today, quite frankly it would be hard to know for sure. And to me, this boggles the mind and quite frankly it is very sad.

Ultimately I’ll probably take my chances if in that situation again. This morning I saw a car go sliding up the Thruway sideways because they were driving very fast and without their headlights in the unplowed left hand lane of the roadway. The driver righted the car and it looked like it was on its way again without incident, but had there been an incident, would people be inclined to stop and help them? Human Nature hopes the answer is yes, but with all the weirdness in the country these days, it’s hard to tell.

The Duck Face.

Earl and I were somewhere along Interstate 10 between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, during our vacation a few weeks ago, when we stopped at a McDonalds so we could use the bathroom. It was a relatively lonely place in rural Louisiana and the McDonalds had only a few people in the restaurant. Earl and I zipped to the back of the store to do our business.

Always feeling somewhat obligated to make a purchase when we use the bathroom at a place like McDonalds, I told Earl I would pick us up a couple of unsweet teas (vs the ‘unsweetened iced tea’ found in the northeast) and then we could continue our drive. 

During our visit to the restroom, four school buses apparently descended upon this relatively lonely place in rural Louisiana and emptied their entire contents into this little McDonalds. The place was mobbed.

While Earl and I waited for the cashier to ring up the sale, get the unsweet tea and process what was happening with the crowd, I noticed that numerous members of this visiting high school party had started snapping self-photos with their smartphones. There were single self-shots, self-shots of pairs and self-shots of four or five people. All of the subjects of the photos tended to be women except for one guy that was running around. He was a little breathless.

In every single photo, each participant of the shot made “the duck face”. Even the breathless guy did it.

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Random Duck Face person.

This was the first time that I had noticed The Duck Face in action and apparently it is in full force as The Thing To Do.

Can someone please explain to me what the purpose of this Duck Face pose it? It isn’t particularly attractive. It doesn’t convey any sort of frivolity, happiness or overall pleasantry. In my personal opinion, it looks kind of stupid, but I suppose some could say the same about me and my idiosyncracies. 

I just don’t get it.  I must be falling out of touch with all that’s hip. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Update: I thought it would be appropriate to show another example as to why The Duck Face can ruin an otherwise moderately enjoyable photo.
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Can’t Imagine.

I can’t imagine sitting in Room 5 in my kindergarten class in elementary school and having anyone with a gun come into the classroom.

I can’t imagine the hallways of the one building that should always safe being filled with the sounds of gun fire.

I can’t imagine no longer having my friends sit by my side when classes resumed because they were killed in our classroom.

I can’t imagine sitting as a lost, empty soul of a childless parent, surrounded by well-intended family and friends, knowing that my child will never be coming home from school.

I can’t imagine experiencing the loss of a child at all.

I can’t imagine what would grip and twist a person in such a way that he or she felt that killing was the only answer.

I can’t imagine why we debate gun control laws that seem like common sense.

I can’t imagine what our society has become.

I can’t imagine what the holidays will be like for many families in Connecticut.

I just can’t imagine it.

My thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the senseless, mind numbing tragedy that occurred in Connecticut today. My thoughts and prayers are with us all.

Snob.

I’m a judgmental prick. I have the afternoon off from work today. I was going to enjoy a nice lunch at Panera, but when I saw the line nearly extending out the door I decided to skip the experience. So I am sitting at the neighboring Barnes & Noble cafe enjoying a prepackaged lunch that is way too high in the way of calories. I ended up throwing half of it away so that I could stay within my personal calorie budget.

I’m a judgmental prick because I have decided that I don’t like these chain eateries that people seem to gravitate towards in this area. There have been a smattering of locally owned coffee shops and cafes over the past couple of years but they haven’t been successful in staying in business. This is unfortunate, because I would rather support the local economy instead of feeding bucks into a corporate conglomerate. But when chains are all you have, you make do with what you’ve got.

I couldn’t bring myself to go into Panera because our local location has turned into a ghettoized version of what the corporate lords of Panera probably envision their stores to be. It’s fancy fast food, I’ll give you that, but at this particular location people are afraid to get anywhere close to one of the registers until someone screams at them. They have no idea what’s on the menu, they’re confused by the numbers to the right of the prices (calorie counts are listed) and quite frankly people freak out because they do not have fries on the menu. “Would you like an apple or chips?” “I want fries.” Please go yell into the clown’s mouth and get the hell away from me.

Here at this Barnes and Noble cafe there are several people here that are just ticking me off for no reason. This is where the judgmental prick in me comes out. There is a bullhorn of a woman with red hair and heavy makeup (though she looks nowhere as classy as Endora) talking about her Christmas tree and how she is putting it up this weekend. Yay for her. I’m guessing it’s aluminum and it has one bulb with a spinny colored thing shining festive hues on the shiny tree. Pretty. She’s going on and on about the holidays and how she has to go to Wal*mart to pick up the wine for dinner.

Again, judgmental prick kicks in. What kind of asshat buys their wine from Wal*mart (Always White Trash, Always)1 and quite frankly I didn’t think that grocery stores in New York State could even carry wine. Maybe Wal*mart gets a special dispensation because they’re Wal*mart and the Muggles in this area think they’re the closest thing they’re ever going to get to a second coming.

There is a man with one of the loud, tuberculous type coughs hacking away at the table next to me. He is hunched over a computer running Windows (I keep hearing the cutsey sound effects that Microsoft thinks are fun!). His elementary aged daughter (I’m guessing 5th grade) is trying to eat her lunch and read a book while he pecks at his keys. Why is he at Barnes and Noble hacking away in such an uproariously manner? Why is the girl not sitting in a classroom or perhaps even enjoying recess with her classmates? Why are they invading the space I have eeked out for myself in this chain operated bastion of hell and not keeping to themselves?

Yep, I’m a total prick.

The Wal*mart Wine crowd have all pulled out iPhones and are using their Facebook app. Isn’t that sweet. There’s a loud voice in my head screaming, “You don’t deserve iPhones! You don’t deserve Facebook! Go back to your Winnebago!!!”. At least I hope it’s my inner voice because otherwise it would be quite embarrassing.

Woman behind me is totally reading over my shoulder. Please excuse me for a moment while I bring up a photo for her to enjoy.

I’m back. She turned away when I brought up the photo of the naked man shaving. I’d share it on the blog but then y’all would blush. Besides, I’m not authorized to share it.

A guy just walked in and began a conversation with his girlfriend as he walked into the cafe area. She was seated, he was making his way to the table and began dropping f-bombs five tables away as he made his way to the seated girlfriend. I find this to be totally inappropriate. Why do people use such salty language these days? Now, I know that I can swear up a blue streak when suitably motivated, and I know that I occasionally curse in my blog, but I am not foisting such language on people that didn’t choose to listen or read it. It’s not like he has Tourette’s Syndrome or something like that. That’s just the way he talks, apparently. It sounds very uneducated to me. It’s bad enough that we had to listen to a table of grown men talk that way at dinner the other night, but must every nook and cranny in the world be filled with stupid people?

Yep, I’m a total snob.

I want to whack the guy that’s coughing with my laptop in an effort to put him out of his misery. That’s would probably be mean.

Perhaps I’ll convince the non-classy Endora to give him some Wal*mart Wine to soothe his throat.

1 I must confess that I went to Wal*mart yesterday because they were the only game in town that had what I was looking for. And I found that fact to be very, very, very disappointing.

The Unknown.

There is a fear running rampant through our merry little household. It is a fear that has gripped this tiny bit of existence for the past several years and quite frankly, something has to be done about it.

People are afraid to open the dishwasher.

Now, opening the dishwasher involves a little bit of a commitment. Not only does one have to put dishes into the dishwasher (that’s what they usually do when they open the dishwasher), but one also runs the very insane risk of finding out that the dishes that are currently in the dishwasher are clean.

The horror.

Because of the wild advances in appliance technology (nothing says “welcome to the 21st century” like having to reboot your dishwasher), there’s no escaping the fact that if you open the dishwasher when the dishes inside it are clean, you’re going to make the little “clean” indicator light go out and then the Magic Fairy that flies around the house is going to know that someone opened the dishwasher. Because you see, if the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and the “clean” indicator is off, then the Magic Fairy will know that someone was unwilling to commit the time needed to empty the dishwasher. It’s apparently the Magic Fairy’s job. Though the Magic Fairy will not say anything, audible sighs will probably be heard and their will be an air of guilt about the house until someone confesses to this act of neglect.

Since that “clean” indicator on the front of the dishwasher strikes terror in some occupants of this house, it has been decided (most likely through a secret vote) that it’s easier just to pile the dishes in the sink, on the television, under the couch, in the back bedroom or over the litter box. At no time will a dirty dish approach a dishwasher with the “clean” indicator illuminated, for the aforementioned time obligation involved with opening the dishwasher after it has been rebooted and done it’s thing.

Be very afraid.