Date Night '13' Or How We Spent our night of freedom.

Mild Spoilers ahead. Nothing specific and I was careful. Besides there's a study out that shows that spoilers actually enhance your enjoyment, so live a little.

Tonight was Date night which traditionally in our household means Sci-Fi Movie night. Given a choice between Will Smith's careening narcissism and Star Trek Into Darkness, we chose the latter.  We really had a good time.

We saw it in 3D because that is also traditional in my household. The 3D was great in some spots, a little stagey in others, and in still others just a little too much. At times it felt like we were watching Star Trek Into Chris Pine's Acne Scars.

I love science fiction. The way the good stuff acts as a mirror for modern society. The way any science fiction worth its salt is allegorical. The way shit blows up and makes pew pew sounds and warp speed and encounters with sexy aliens and chase scenes and set phasers to fucking yeah!

Anyway, In Star Trek Into Zoe Saldana's Mediocre Acting Ability (Seriously, I wish someone else was Uhura. She didn't ruin the movie, but is Angela Basset really too old? Kerry Washington not free?), we've got terrorist attacks, including one where a large ship is purposely dive bombed into a city, and a struggle by those in charge as to how we should respond. With vengeance or with justice? And are the two different? It could be seen, by me anyway, as an allegory for our current situation concerning terrorists, drone strikes, Guantanamo, etc. In the movie they waffle, but eventually try to bring the bad guy in alive. Because that's how they roll. In the movie there is a moment when Chris Pine's left pockmark is giving a speech, and in it he says something along the lines of how while we want vengeance on those that harm us, we must be careful not to find or encourage their evil in ourselves. We bring'em back alive and put'em on trial. Because that's how we roll. Or rather, that's how they roll. We're not so sure these days.

Let me say I've read no other reviews of this movie. Doing so would have totally harshed my writing buzz, as they say on New Vulcan. I don't know if this viewing of it has been driven into the ground or debunked as nonsense. And I never watched Lost, so I don't really know where J.J. Abrams's brain is at.

The movie is just light enough, just loud enough, just fun enough to make me think that possibly I'm full of shit. Probably.

Possibly.

But then again, J.J. Abrams is supposed to be pretty good. And it's a good story, the movie. There are themes of friendship, father-son relationships, the dichotomy of human intellect versus emotion, and a totally fucking ripping space jump scene. It is mildly predictable, but it is a Hollywood Summer Blockbuster (said with reverb).

So I'm gonna go the generous route and say ol' J.J. threw one by the Hollywood system and managed to make a pretty solid Lib-Lab Commie Scumbag allegorical science fiction flick. 3 1/4 dead Tribbles out of a four dead Tribble rating system.

HM

P.S. I don't know that you have to see it in 3D. Definitely on the big screen, but not necessarily in 3D. It was fun, but I can't say it was completely worth it.

Birthday Time/How To Succeed In Parenting Without Even Trying

I'm 40 years old today. All week, he kids were asking me, "Are you excited daddy? Are you excited for your birthday daddy? You're gonna be 40 on saturday daddy, are you excited?"

"Yeah, I'm excited." I'd reply eye-rollingly.

Honestly though, I am excited. There a lot of places I expected to be at 40. Dead, drunk, naked, performing in a dive bar in East St. Louis as "Lady Gagguh." So all in all, I'm feeling pretty good about it. 

Also, there's this:

So we found this injured bird in the backyard. A grackle. I found it. The poor thing was flopping around on its back and trying to turn upright without success. I got some gloves on and tried setting it upright. It hitched and bobbed and wobbled and flipped back over again. 

"Maybe it's shitfaced?" I thought.  I smelled it's breath. No such luck. I didn't know what to do with it. I certainly couldn't have the kids finding it.

For more, please go and visit Dadcentric. Thank you and Have a Pleasant weekend. 

My Family's Cheerful Acquiesance To A Billionaire

I've been very busy lately. I got  a new pair of sun glasses and I've been going around trying to convince people (myself) they're Google Glass. You can take pics, make videos, google stuff. You have to say "ok glass" to activate Google Glass. This has led to a lot of me conspicuously barking "Ok Glass. Google how to say half a pound in Chinese," and then screeching a string of unintelligible gibberish at my Israeli falafel guy before abruptly turning around and moaning "Ok Glass. Google love." Then I laugh and exclaim to passers-by, , " If only  you could see it, man!" Then I try to convince strangers I'm staring at them because I'm an auteur filmmaker , then I say, "Ok Google Glass, google auteur filmmaker." Then I pass out. Technology is amazing.

This past Saturday, my family and I took part in our city's Spring Park Clean-up initiative. We swept and raked and picked up trash while a nervous city worker kept driving by to tell us he thought we'd done a heck of a job and why don't we stop already.

At the end, we had an audience with the mayor. It took my power wife five minutes to convince him she needed to be on "some committee somewhere." I was getting a sandwich.

It was nice to do something for our city because soon we're going to be taken over by casino billionaire Steve Wynn and then we'll all be spending most of our time toiling away a thousand feet below the Earth's crust in Mr. Wynn's vast poker chip mines. I can't wait to lose one of the kids at the roulette table. 

A casino for my metza-metz-not-quite-fair city is beginning to seem imminent. I actually asked the mayor and his city planner , "So you don't think you're going to get screwed by a billionaire?" They laughed and then gave me two thousand parking tickets. 

There is an agreement in place for something like 30 mil this year and 20 mil a year going forward plus a hiring preference for Everett residents. I don't know how he'll get out of paying the cash, though I'm pretty sure he will. but I do wonder if that hiring preference thing includes job training. Not a whole lot of black jack dealers in my city, I'm pretty sure. I'm also pretty sure all of Mr.  Wynn's billions would seem meaningless to him if his Google Glass could google love. Cue music. Call me, Hollywood.

------------------------------------------

Check out a Google Glass ad here. My favorite part is that while they've been spending time trying to convince us all that there is no danger of intensely creepy and ubiquitous violations of privacy, one of the first things they show in their promo video is a dude quietly following a ballerina down a dark stairwell. 

Which reminds me, what if you get google glass and you forget to deactivate the camera and then it records everything you look at for two-and-a- half hours straight? That is a lot of bootlegged Food Network.  

Also, if you click the link about the casino and read the story, that rendering of the casino is so far from what ny city looks like right now I'm convinced they're going to bulldoze the city and the forcibly re-assign the majority of us to hard labor in Mr. Wynn's vast felt paddies. 

Finally, go here and donate to help Always Home and Uncool and his family run to Cure JM. Not only will you be donating to a good cause, you'll essentially be paying to make him compete is a race against his own children. What could be better than that?

May 5th

Cinco De Mayo. or as we know it here in the Northeast, Mexican St. Patrick's Day. For those that don't know, Cinco De Mayo celebrates the day when Senor Tostito led the uprising against the imperialist forces of regular potato chips, there by freeing Mexicans to sneak over the border and bring tortilla chips and salsa to all of America to eat with beer or Margaritas while watching sports or movies. Which conversely, then freed the people of Mexico even more so they can cut our grass or become line cooks. At least, that's pretty much what I learned at my daughter's school on monday.

I happened to be volunteering at my school during their Cinco De Mayo festivities this year.

Festivities included (and were limited too):

Making paper sombreros inexpertly decorated to wear on their inexpert heads (except for my daughter who used just the perfectly tasteful amount of little colorful pom-poms, crayon squiggles, and poorly glued sequins. Truly captured the soul of Mexico if by soul of Mexico you mean Taco Bell.)

Eating tortilla chips and lousy salsa at snack time.

End of festivities.

No mention of the Mexican Revolution, the Franco-Mexican war, Hidalgo, Juarez, or Salazar (Author's note: These are Mexican heroes. As a point of pride you should know that I only had to look up three of those names, and two--Hidalgo and Salazar-- I actually recognized due to the fact that the former is the name of a very mediocre Viggo Mortenson film and the latter is a combination of luck and that Hollywood often picks it as the name of the head drug dealer in any given cop movie. America: History Shmistory, your ticket'll be twelve dollars sir.)

Also, for those that might not know, Cinco De Mayo is not a big deal in Mexico. It's more Flag Day than it is Independence Day. Which I'm cool with. Really, I don't mind vaguely racist excuses to drink and try ethnic food. At least something happened in Mexico on Cinco De Mayo. St. Patrick's day in Ireland was originally a small, sad, quiet meal consisting of mutton and depression in honor of St. Patrick Wilson's uncomfortable schtupping of Lena Dunham in Girls. Look it up if you don't believe me. It's science.

I really don't have a problem with the nationwide Margarita throwdown that is the celebration of Cinco De Mayo in the U.S. At least people are thinking about Mexico. A little.

My only issue, and it's an infinitesimal one at that, is that while they had them celebrate Cinco De Mayo at school with a racist hat'n'snack "Fiesta," they mentioned nothing. Not even that bullshit about it being Mexican Independence Day. Just, "here you go guys. Color in these paper hats as offensively as you can and then we'll go have chips!" "Yaaaaay,"the children replied.

Of course, now I'm hungry for nachos. Stupid nachos.


HM

P.S. A photo gallery of traditional Cinco De Mayo art for your enjoyment.

That is one nervous looking cactus. Maybe because it's afraid it'll be deported when the kids are done coloring it. I wonder where the school officials got the "Racist Coloring for Kindergartners Workbook." I can't find it anywhere
The Peanut can color though, can't she? Colored the shit out of that racially stereotyped cactus, that's for sure. Probably she and I should have a little talk about Mexico at some point. She should at least know that most cactuses do not dress that way.

World's record for longest photo caption.

Yaay! Peanut sure can glue the shit of some pom-poms though, can't she? Glues her ass off. 

The Anticipation is the Best Part I Guess.

I have to pee. I'm not getting up though. Not right now. There is no way I am missing this. But man, I have to pee. Really like, squirming and worming and wiggling my butt. But if I get up now it'll be over by the time I get back. Just gotta squeeeeeze tight. Mmmf. Can't. OohUhhh. Lock my ankles together. GO just get up and go and then No no no. I'm ok. Alright. Let's see this. Whoa he's gonna rip that guy's throat out. Look out! Ahh no. I really have to pee. Seriously.

"Do you have to pee?"

"No."

"Ok, because you're wiggling all over the place."

"NoIdon'thavetogoPEEEE!"

"Ok."

Man, do I have to pee. I mean really bad. But look at this. The other guy is winning now. I can't believe it. AHH I have to pee. Get him! Look out! Ooh, I think I just let a little out. But this guy is about to kill the mean one! Arrgghh!

"Are you sure you don't have to pee?"

"YesI'mSUURREE!"

"You can take one of your dinosaurs upstairs with you."

" . . . Okaaay. Daddy this dinosaur is a Gigantosaurus and the Gigantosaurus attacked the Brachiosaurus but the Gigantosaurus is a meat eater but the Brachiosaurus manages to get away because he uses his looong tail to hit the Gigantosaurus and then he gets away."

"Wow. That's quite the upset. Get upstairs to pee now."

"Daddy come with me."

" . . . Okaaay."

Phew.

Uphill

The boy turned four in December. Pumpkin Man. His squash remains magnificent, but man, four is tough. It wasn't quite so tough with the girl, but he was two then and she was her. Now, he's bruises and belligerence. Affection and anger. It's an in between moment, four years old. Right between baby and little boy.

Expectations mount and a lot of crap that used to be cute isn't so much anymore. Learn stuff, pick stuff up and put it away, don't shit your pants, don't chase the cat, please try to use your fork but not on the cat. The demands are multitude.  And he's got the added pressure of Polly Perfect Pants as an older sister.

Our school system uses a traffic light/Yakuza paradigm as a discipline tool. Everyone starts on green, yellow is a warning, red you lose a knuckle on your index finger.  The Peanut--in the school system for three years now--has yet to receive so much as a yellow light. Every teacher loves her and her classmates admire her. She's horrifying. From the point of view of a little brother, terrifying and absolute in her good dobeeness.

He's been on red light once so far. In pre-school. Some sort of trumped up cereal stomping charge. A charge we didn't find out about until a week later when the guilt got to him and he spilled it. His teacher neglected to mention it. We talked. She won't do that again.

He questions everything. A quality I hope he keeps forever just not right now.  He talks in streams of four year old consciousness. Streams miles long.The car is often his pulpit. Daddy always listens. Daddy sometimes dreamily contemplates unbuckling his own seatbelt and making for the nearest telephone pole, but he listens.

He's a very good boy, the Pman. Empathetic, loving, hilarious. He's good at puzzles and he loves nature. He's planning on being a nature documentarian when he grows up ("I'm gonna take pictures of animals and make movies of animals. Will you come see all my movies Daddy?" "'Course I will, buddy."). He loves hard, he plays hard. He is hard. He has an agenda that must be filled immediately. He's often got an answer for everything. He's me so much and so much more than me. He's got it hard, the Pman. Second child. Windy child. Four year old. I wouldn't go back there.

Leadership

Leadership is important. Without leadership, there would be no leaders. Or ships, possibly. Imagine a world without ships. Then we would never have the movie Titanic. What a great world. Leadership can be defined thusly:

In a world where most people would fall to their deaths by blindly walking off of cliffs--which would be a pretty long walk from Kansas--a leader is a person who will step in front of those people and say "hold on a minute here you guys" and then lead them with great insight to the fastest place to walk off that cliff.

In other words, a leader is a person who leads. Why do I bring this up you so presumptuously ask? Because on this blog, I am the leader. Every time I write I lead my readers right of of cliffs and to a watery death. At least we're in Malibu

Another person who is a born leader is my wife. She always has been the type of person who can walk into a situation and take control. Also, she is unfailingly true to herself. Helps to make her a great teacher, a great teacher mentor, a great department head, and a pretty good capture the flag player.

Now she may have a chance to be a principal. There is a fellowship in our neck of the cliffs that offers, for the qualified candidate, to both pay for their principal classes (How to Make Kids Wait on a Bench, Announcements 101, Budgeting on a Budget, The Philosophy of Pantsuits, Theoretical Angry Eyebrow Knitting, etc.) and pay her salary while she's learning. And she always said after she got her Masters, " The only way I would ever got back to school now is maybe if someone paid me. Maybe"

And so here we are. I don't know exactly how many applicants there were-- a safe guess would be a million-- but my wife is one of a handful of finalists. Which meant she had to go to a seven hour interview last week. I can only assume three and half hours of it were filled with getting the ratios of pens to pencils correct in a desk pencil cup, and the rest was practicing the most threatening/condescending way to say "Mr. Murray. Why don't you come in and have a seat."

I always got on really well with my principal if you measure it by time spent in his office.

I don't know if she'll get it, but I'm crazy proud of her already because I know she represented with passion, honesty, and students foremost in her mind.

But if she does get it, I can't wait to get called to her office. Rawr.

HM