Fake Samuel

How is this not the most disturbing show on television?  "Your mother will not mind at all if you do..." is the shows motto, and it only gets creepier from there.  Meet the two kids Nick and Sally.  Forced into friendship by their alcoholic mothers who can't be bothered to actually parent their children, these two are constantly being invited by a stranger in a top hat to visit his "friends".  At some point the show thankfully slips into metaphor so we don't have to see graphically all that really happens. They are invited into his "Thingamajig" and told to press his "jiggamawizzer".  Threatened to have two  hairy creatures named "Thing" force them into compliance, they proceed to do whatever the cat wants.  Next meet the Cat. Voiced by Martin Short, the show's theme song sums him up.  Obviously, the whole premise of the show as described above, is frightening enough.  As if to accentuate this, there are actually parts in th...

Come, let's be reasonable.

For those of you faithful who regularly check this blog, wishing, hoping, pleading for another post from yours truly, I just want you to know that I don't care. And I never have. I spent my weekend doing things you could only dream of doing, seeing things many of you will never see, pondering ideas most of you would not understand. I do not say these things to shame you. Even though I'm sure they do. I say them to open your eyes to reality: I don't always have time to stoop to capturing my thoughts for posterity. Cash is a bit of an issue right now, but I hope someday to have a personal assistant, and perhaps that person will write down for you...stuff that I do and whatever. Anyhoo. I kinda just forgot what I was writing about. I had waffles for dinner!

Hey Einsteins, prop planes don't fly in space. I'm not an idiot.

Playing Hi Ho Cherry-O and kickin' some ace.

Hmmm, should we waste time looking for a key OR JUST TAKE OUR FRICKIN ROCKET. If I learn anything about music or art on this show it will be to USE THE ROCKET.

You do realize there is nothing "Einstein" about this show. He would be appalled at the physics concepts presented here.

As some of you may know, I'm on Facebook. It's interesting I suppose, I just think it's kinda silly seeing how it'll be obsolete and very uncool by the time my peers figure out how to use the Internet. Anyhoo, i've discovered that there are really just a few different status updates. -the person saying they are doing something they are obviously not doing -the parent lamenting their absent spouse for the night(hehe) -the update with way too much information -the ever optimistic, "we can do it" post -the political commentary -the I shouldn't be on facebook/I'm wasting time post -the person whose status updates you keep forgetting to block -and of course the annoying person that actually tries to keep us updated on their current activity. As we care. That's about it I guess. Anyhoo I just woke up from a nap so I'm fairly cranky.

I know it's been a while but the folks lock the door now after bedtime and it's hard to get out to post. But I stole the Father's phone tonight so I can post this. Forgive me if there are typos. I'm not bothering to learn how to type with my thumbs as I expect my generation will do something completely different. I first picked up "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" as part of a collection of such books about what could happen if you give certain animals certain things. First, what I don't like. Pretty much at every turn of the page I find myself in the shoes of a weak little boy who can't even stand up to a mouse. Now a moose I can understand. If a moose comes to my window demanding muffins and jam, there is little room for refusal. But, for example, the second sentence in the first paragraph: "If you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk. When you give him the milk,...." Hold it right there-"when...

Have you heard of this?  Apparently, The Folks think I need to abide by something they call "bed time."  As I think back on it, I'm pretty sure I never had one in the past - this is all new to me.  Pretty sure.  Anyhoo, they're requiring that I go to bed at a certain time, and then stay in there until I fall asleep.   I know: crazy. So naturally, I'm fighting it.  It's what I do - I fight for the little guy.  For you.  For you little guy, because you can't fight on your own - you'd hurt yourself.  Look at you, you're pathetic.  And thats usually not me.  I'm a lover not a fighter, usually.  I love.  People, things, markers, daddy's beard - whatever.  I'm a lover.  Of stuff, whatever it may be.   Forget it - Aaron's the lover.  I'm the fighter.  I've always been the fighter.  Lets face it, when Aaron gets his face messed up by some steroid abusing SuperWhy wannabe on the first day of Preschool, its gonna be me who saves him. ...

I stumbled across this find when it was given to me as a gift by my Aunt Bunny. She apparently is a voracious reader and found this in her quest for literature. It opens with a small child inviting a rodent into their house, feeding it and giving it shelter, while letting it run amuck, ruining this child's life. The problem with this book is that its not based in reality. A quote from the book: "If you give a mouse a cookie...he's going to ask for a glass of milk" "When you give him the milk...." And there's the problem - "when". That assumes I'm going to give him milk. If I give a mouse a cookie I'm trying to lure him somewhere so that I can capture him. If he asks me for a glass of milk, I've been way to slow with my approach. Forget about sharing any of my milk with him. And thats another thing - why in the world would I share a cookie with this rodent when he would be just as happy with a bread crumb or a small amount o...

I am cooler than you.

I just to take this moment to congratulate the Broge girls on their recent accomplishments. I was a bit behind on their folks' blog and just caught up today. It looks like they've taken some of my advice. Now don't get me wrong- when we visited a few weeks back it was obvious that these girls knew what they're doing. The pitch of their cry, the occasional pouty face, the mealtime fussiness - all perfect. This kind of stuff is innate. I have nothing to teach them there. While we were there in St. Louis, I took the opportunity to speak with them in a collaborative way - really learning from them as I imparted some of the things I've learned these past couple years. We all came away from the meeting with a greater understanding of just what we can accomplish if we make a concerted effort. Anyway, just wanna throw out some props to EJ and MP for implementing some of the ideas they've been thinking about for the past few months. I'd like to think I h...

Look. I don't know if you noticed, but the brother is mobile and he's sort of a handful. And the folks can't handle him. So it's up to me. I'm all "no aaron" and distracting him with toys and keeping away from the stairwell. It's an all day job. You stop to post on the blog and all of the sudden he's heading for the fireplace. Or the bathroom. Or the oven is turned on. Or he's playing with the mower. I'm telling you he's fast. It's a good thing he sleeps exactly when I do, so The Folks don't have to entertain him while I'm napping. I don't think the Folks could handle it.

Not surprisingly, people are surprised and disappointed at my recent absence from the blog. Do not worry people, I assure you, I am alive and well. I liken my plight to that of a missionary working under an oppressive regime. News flows in and out of the country, but at times the goverment cracks down. And they occasionally beat their citizens. And the citizens occasionally pee in places they're not supposed to. And go on hunger strikes. And stage protests and sit-ins. Etcetera. You get it. But fear not, "we will overcome." They cannot hold me back with their bedtimes and naptimes, their imposed restrictions on my SuperWhy watching or blueberry consumption, their insistence on "respect" and "listening to mama" and "be gentle with the X*", their "are you poopy?" or "I smell poopies" or "want to go on the potty?", their complete lack of trust in me as a person to be able to regulate my own bodily functions, time ma...

So the little brother informs me that he will no longer be posting on this blog.  He says that blogs are so 2007 and he is embracing 2009 in all its glory.  Whatever.  He says that means he going to be posting on Twitter.  Its all the rage with the tweens.  Apparently its like a blog but you can't write as much.  Only like 2 sentences at a time.  I would never survive.    Anyhoo.   I did notice an increase in my advertising revenue when he came on board, so I'll be keeping his posts (apparently they're called tweets) in the sidebar to the right.   Oh, and I found this video that explains twitter for you losers who care to watch.  This is the future?  Great I get to hear about every stinkin' diaper from now on.

I can't believe I'm out shopping on the day after Christmas.

So at least today when I woke up I was on daddy. Contrary to what Samuel writes of the Folks, we seem to get along just fine. He let's me poke his eyes and scratch his face and stuff. Anyway apparantly all I got for Christmas this year was some clothes and a screwdriver set. Not the best in the toy department, but I do appreciate the opportunity to do some woodworking. Just as soon as I obtain some fine motor control that is.

Given the current financial crisis, I thought I would provide my knowledgable viewpoint on the situation. Money, apparently, is something of some importance. While it does come in the form of delicious looking coins, it also comes in the form of nice bendy cards. While I am never allowed to bend these cards, I can only assume this is where their value comes from. Apparently, because of how much fun these cards are to bend and play with, our country has a lot of them and we value them highly. Now, some people have too cards, and those who have them are afraid of getting them taken away. I assume they are afraid of people like me, who have no cards, but want them. The Folks won't give me one. So my thoughts: just give me the card.

Occasionally, out of town yokels will see me on the street and think "oh it's Zack from Saved by the Bell" or "hey is that Brad Pitt" or "he must be someone important-look at his entourage and the way he carries himself and orders all those people around." These yahoos thought I was a big name celeb and demanded my picture. After taking my usual fee, I acquiesed.