Closing Out 2010

So, here we go again, about to close the book on another eventful year. Who knows what the New Year will bring our way? Will it bring more bed bugs? Will we see more massive snowfalls thus forcing Al Gore into another year of hibernation? Will Lindsay Lohan make an appearance on Celebrity Rehab? Only Dionne Warwick and her psycho network can predict these things.

Preparing for the New Year, we're all going to make New Year's resolutions that we know we can't possibly keep. I don't even waste my time with resolutions anymore. If I couldn't drop twenty pounds through 2010, what difference will 2011 make? What can I say, I like Arbys and I fear treadmills. And plus, I've never met a draft beer that I didn't like. Well, there was this one recently at the Pratt Street Ale House, but I still drank it. So, if I continue on my chunky path, I'll just start hanging out with people with overactive thyroids so I'll seem smaller. Say what you will, but at least I have a plan.

Ok, I guess if I really had to change something going into the New Year, it would be to eat more fruits and vegetables. Currently, about the about vegetables I consume are the jalapeno peppers on my occasional order of nachos. And any fruits that enter my body are usually coated with chocolate. But I'm working on it...

New Year's Eve is coming up and everyone's preparing to celebrate. I never quite understood this. Everybody parties all night, then when the midnight hour approaches, the dog and pony show starts. People will round up all of the drunks and talk to them like five-year-olds by saying, "Come on, you guys, we've got five minutes until the New Year. Five minutes, can you believe it?"

I can hardly take it!

Then, everyone is herded to the front of the nearest TV to watch that stupid-ass ball drop at Times Square. I just never got it. Everyone gathers and inevitably breaks into the 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-HAPPY NEW YEAR routine. Then, Guy Lombardo kicks in with Auld Lang Syne and we all hug, kiss and dry hump each other like we've just come home from World War II. What am I missing here? Hasn't everyone been partying together for the past six hours? So, what's up with the impromptu reunion?

On more thing....Before now and January 1st, I am going to absolutely freggin' snap if someone says to me, "See you next year!" To me, this is like the old "Have a good one" farewell. Have a good what? It drives me crazy. The only thing worse is when someone tries to be extra witty by saying "Half a good one! A whole one might kill ya!" It doesn't even remotely make sense.

Anyway........

On a serious note, I'm glad we've all made through another year. Paraphrasing one of my favorite songs, sometimes I feel like we're all lost souls swimming in a fish bowl. But hey, at least we're still swimming. So, keep living life and make everyday count!

I've had a ball (but not the Times Square kind) writing my rants and stories over the past year. Thank you all for taking the time to read them. I really do appreciate it.

May you and yours have a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.....

Ken

Breaking Loose

When I was a kid, opening Christmas gifts was relatively simple. I would effortlessly rip through the thin wrapping paper to expose the gift behind it. On a bad day, this would still only take about five seconds. Once the Christmas wrap was off, I was pretty much home free. The only thing left to do was to open the box that held my momentary bliss.

Today, things have gotten much more complicated. Toys are shrink-wrapped tighter than Joan Rivers' face. And then once you get the shrink wrap off, the toy is often secured with various tie wraps, staples and spot welds. And, of course, most five-year-olds aren't capable of freeing Barbie from captivity. So, they look for the nearest adult to help them out.

A couple of years ago, my niece ran into this exact situation. So, she asks me if I can get her doll out of the package. After about ten minutes of struggling with it, I had to break out my surgeon's tools: a pair of scissors and a steak knife. I proceed to spend the next twenty minutes clipping and sawing at the various straps and tie-wraps. Sadly, in the process, Barbie got an unwanted haircut and a couple of nice lacerations. The situation wouldn't have been quite so bad if someone had the hindsight to pick up the Barbie Emergency Room!

Anyway, I finally freed Barbie and handed her to my niece. I'm hoping that she doesn't notice my mishaps. But, kids don't miss anything. She stares at the doll for a minute, then asks me, "What happened to her hair?"

Of course, I try to play it down by saying, "Don't worry, it will grow back."

Then, when I think it can't get any worse, she says, "Oh, my God! Her arms and legs are cut!" Then, she drops Injured Barbie and goes running off into the next room. The poor kid was traumatized and I felt like a total loser. As a result, she now thinks that I'm Charles Manson. Yeah, I'm at real hit at the kid's birthday parties these days.

And it's not just the kid's stuff. Have you ever tried to open a CD lately? Let me just say, it ain't easy. Last year, I picked up the latest Kelly Clarkson CD. Like anyone else, I was eager to pop it into my car's CD player and fire up "My Life Would Suck Without You". But not so fast! I nearly lost an eye while trying to get it out of the cellophane wrapper. I recklessly poked and pulled on the wrap with my car key until I finally broke the cellophane. But just when I thought I was home free, I then had to deal with that thin sticker that runs along the top of the CD case (Can someone please explain to me what the purpose of this sticker is?). So, I pluck at the sticker with my thumbnail like a madman. Right before my thumb totally cramps up, I finally free the CD from it's jewel case. God Almighty, freed at last!

This Christmas, don't be surprised if you encounter similar situations. If I can offer any kind of advice, I would say just be very careful with the sharp objects. A trip to the ER always puts a damper on the Christmas spirit.


KW

One Strange Concert

The year was 1993 or thereabouts. I'm not sure how or why, but I wound up with a pair of tickets to a Melissa Etherdge concert. The venue was Merriweather Post Pavilion in nearby Columbia, MD. I had heard a lot of Etheridge's music, and I actually liked it. Plus, her girlfriend was Anne Heche who I always thought was kind of hot. So anyway, I figured, "What the hell, it should be a good time."

So, Tina and I head down to Columbia. We park on the Columbia Mall parking lot which is right across from the entrance to Merriweather. As we're sitting in the car, we watch all the people heading over to the venue. Everyone seemed to be in a festive mood. Countless couples strolled past holding hands and embracing each other. But here's where it got a little weird for me. Although there were plenty people who initially appeared to be guys, in reality they were women with close cropped haircuts and flannel shirts. (By the way, I had never seen so many Jeeps on the parking lot. What's up with that?)

Now, let me say that I don't have a problem with any of this. Although I am indeed conservative on most issues, I don't think that I, nor anyone else, has the right to tell people how to live their lives. But, with that being said, here was my concern. I have been described as having the "stereotypical Republican look". So, how are these "ladies" going to respond to me? As silly as it sounds, I was afraid that they might view me as the enemy and sacrifice me in the name of alternate lifestyles across the world. And, all kidding aside, there were more than a few of these "ladies" that could have, no doubt, easily kicked my ass!

So, after a little help and encouragement from Samuel Adams, I finally ventured inside. After taking our seats, I noticed a fellow man in the row behind me. Even though we were an extreme minority, it gave us comfort that to know that we weren't totally alone. We gave each other a subtle upward head-nod as a sign of solidarity.

Once the show started, tensions eased. Mellisa was jamming out to "Bring Me Some Water" and the whole place was jumping. Maybe it was the beer, but I was actually digging the whole thing. Before long, Etheridge transitioned into "Like I Do", and then things started to get a little weird. Women seemed to be mesmerized as the bridge of the song kicked in. They were swooning and swaying. They were saying things like,"God, she's so beautiful". It was actually a bit cult-like. I couldn't take it anymore......

So, I figured this was probably a great time to hit the "mens" room. As I approach the line, I see that it's unexpectedly backed up. I'm thinking, "How can there be two hundred guys in line for the men's room when there's only ten men in the whole place?" Well the mystery was soon solved. There were actually no men at all in the line. They were all women. Can you believe this? So, I did what any self respecting guy would have done....I walked towards the front of the line.

This was probably not the smartest thing to do. Many of the women were visibly upset. How do I know this? Because they were throwing drinks at me and calling me an asshole. I had really kicked the hornet's nest this time. And being the fool that I am, I stood there and attempted to explain why I should get preferential treatment. After all, I was the only man here. Finally, I just said the hell with it and walked past everyone and into the Twilight Zone.

When I enter the men's room, it was somewhat surreal to see it packed with women. And some of them actually looked like women. There's certain things that you'll never forget in you life. I will never forget the time I had a conversation with a woman at an adjacent urinal at Merriweather Post Pavilion.

When I finally made it back outside, I saw Tina. She had a look of terror on her face. So, I asked her what was the matter. She told me to never do anything like that again. She tells me that I could have gotten both of us killed. She says that she was sure that I would not come out of the "men's" room in one piece. I tried to calm her down by telling her that everything was fine. Plus, I even made a new friend at the urinal. But I guess I wasn't too convincing. I have to admit, I was a little concerned about some of these "ladies" waiting for me on the parking lot. In an effort to blend in, I thought about buying a Melissa Etheridge t-shirt to wear on the way out. Some would call it a t-shirt but I viewed it as camouflage. Thankfully, we eventually made it home unscathed.

Not long after my adventure, I read a story about a guy at one of these shows in another town. He pretty much went through the same bathroom experience as I did. But unlike me, he filed a lawsuit. Honestly, the thought had never entered my mind. I figured that since none of these ladies kicked my ass, what's the big deal? I guess some people just aren't as open minded as I am.........

KW

Christmas Thorns

Even though it can be stressful, I try my best to stay in festive mood in the weeks leading up to Christmas.But every year, there are certain things that really test my patience. So, without further ado, here are the things that  pushed my buttons this year:

• Public Schools - For referring to the down-time between Christmas and New Years as a "Winter Holiday". Why don't these politically correct cowards tell us exactly what traditional "holiday" we're actually celebrating this "winter"?

• Honda - Although I think they make a great automobile, the song in their latest commercial drives me nuts. You know, the one that goes "Holiday oh Holiday, it's the best time of the year...." Every time I hear it, I feel like throwing something at my TV.

• Christmas Thieves - Christmas is supposed to be a time of expressing goodwill toward your fellow man. It really bothers me when I hear of thefts from charitable organizations like Toy For Tots. Stealing Christmas gifts, especially from children, is about as low as you can go.

• The NFL - For playing football on Christmas Day. Yes, the Cowboys and Cardinals will be playing this Christmas.I love football, but it pales in comparison to spending quality time with your family. Football will be here forever. Your family and friends won't. 

• Politically Correct Companies - For having "Holiday Parties". Again, what holiday is it that we're celebrating??

• The ACLU - For asking us to be tolerant of "other" religions and then telling us that we can't say the word "Christmas" because it's offensive to some people. The ACLU can kiss my Christmas celebrating ass! Is that offensive enough for you??

• Snow - Sorry folks, I'm just a not big fan of the white stuff. Sure, it looks beautiful on a postcard and everyone dreams of a White Christmas, but in reality, it always turns into a slushy mess. Plus, I can't get too thrilled about anything that's going to eventually force me to pick up a shovel.

• Christmas Tree Vendors - I hate when the tree lots display a huge sign that says "Any Tree On Lot $30". Then below it, in really tiny, barely legible letters, it says "Except Firs". Aren't firs the most popular variety of  Christmas Trees? Of course, they are. 

• Lame Looking Santa Claus' - I recently saw a mall Santa who was so skinny he looked like a red and white Q-Tip. I'll bet the guy used ChapStick as deodorant. Hey, I thought Santa Claus was supposed to be plump. 

• Retailers - Why don't stores offer those "blow-out" Christmas deals year round? Maybe we would shop there more often if they did. Just a thought....

• Overzealous Pet Owners - For the love of God people, please don't dress your dog or cat up as a reindeer. You gotta ask yourself, how would you like it?

• Chick-fil-A - I actually surprised myself with this one. After all, Chick-fil-A is, without a doubt, my favorite fast food restaurant. However, every year, they tease me for a couple of months with a Peppermint Chocolate Chip milkshake. Then, right after the holidays, they take it away. It's cruel....

All right, I think that's about enough complaining for now. After all, I wouldn't want to ruin my jolly mood. Damn, it's snowing again!

KW

The NFL Hair Club

As I watch football anymore, I can't help but get confused and distracted by all of the hair. It's like the NFL has morphed into the Hair Club For Men. I was watching my favorite team, the Baltimore Ravens, last week play the Pittsburgh Steelers. Baltimore appeared to have the game in hand late in the game. Well, the next thing you know, quarterback Joe Flacco drops back to pass and WHAM! He gets blindsided by Diana Ross! I immediately jumped out of my chair and yelled, "That's bullshit! She shouldn't even be on the field!"

Well, after further review, I discovered that it really wasn't Diana Ross. And it wasn't the guitar player from Guns and Roses either. It was none other than Steelers' safety Troy Polamalu. Hey, it was easy enough to make the mistake. I'm serious, the guy looks like a Chia Pet! Poor Flacco probably thought he got hit by a sheep.

And although I'm no fan of the Steelers, it's not just Polamalu with the long hair. It seems that half of the guys in the NFL now have either the grunge rock-star look or the Rasta man look. I was watching one game where I swore Bob Marley was running down the field for a touchdown. I thought I was hallucinating!

I don't know how these guys can stand it. I would think all that hair would be hot, irritating and/or distracting. Like I said before, it definitely distracts me. Sometimes, I don't know if the team is huddling up to discuss the next play or if they're preparing to segue into Buffalo Soldier. Don't get me wrong, I love Bob Marley. But we're hear to play football, guys!

And what is up with New England's Tom Brady? I can't believe that one of his fellow Patriots hasn't told him that the Justin Bieber look doesn't work beyond the age of twelve. Sure, he's a great quarterback. So, what? He looks absolutely ridiculous.

What happened to the days when the football players used to have manly haircuts. Remember the flat-top that Johnny Unitas used to sport?  Now, there was a haircut. Ol' Johnny U always looked like a fresh Marine recruit. You could land a helicopter on his head. God bless him!

So, anyway I gotta run. The Ravens and Texans are getting ready to go at it. I sure hope Flacco keeps his eyes open for anyone who looks like Diana Ross this week!

KW

The Joys of Christmas Shopping

I've never been a big fan of Christmas shopping. For one, I never know what to get anyone. As December 25th approaches, I always feel the increasing pressure to get that special gift. And, if that's not bad enough, I never know how much to spend. If I spend too much, it makes the recipient feel bad and if I spend too little I feel like a cheapskate.

And buying for children is always tough for me. If I get the kid a sweater, he tosses it aside, gives me a dirty look and says, "Awww, I didn't want clothes!" It's like I stole the kid's cell phone or something. And if I buy him a pellet gun, the parents get mad at me. I can't win. So, as undramatic as it might be, all the kids in my family get cash.

And every family has that one person who either has everything or doesn't want anything. In my family, that honor falls to my Dad. I gave up on buying traditional Christmas gifts for him years ago. I knew whatever I bought him was eventually going to be returned. And it was usually me that had to return it. So, as a bonus, not only did I get to stand in line to purchase the gift, I also got to stand in a return line. So, now I just give him a gift card and we're both happy.

Of course, shopping usually involves going to the crowded mall. Hey, under normal circumstances, I enjoy being around people. I really am a social person. But when other human beings impede my ability to get from point A to point B, I get a little irritated. You see, having long legs, I walk at a pretty decent pace. So, it really bothers me to be strolling along only to have to slam on the brakes to avoid trampling over a group of senior citizen mall walkers. 

The seniors are one thing, but why do teenagers have to walk toward me and take up the entire walkway? Do I look like a ninja who can just conveniently flip over them?

Another thing that bothers me are those vendors that set up in the middle of the mall. I'm not really sure what kind of first impression I make. But do I really look like someone who wants his cuticles polished?

And what's up with the Hickory Farms carts that are always set up this time of year? I'm sorry, but I can't think of anyone who would look forward to unwrapping a summer sausage on Christmas morning. Ok, that didn't quite sound right.....

Anyhow.......after dealing with the volatile mall crowd, the last thing I feel like doing is standing in a long checkout line. So, I'll usually try to come up with an alternate plan. For instance, let's say I'm at Sears. I'll roll my shopping cart through the crowded store and into the auto department. When I start to unload the contents of my cart (none of which has anything  to do with a car), the auto guy will tell me that I can't pay for my stuff there. Appearing annoyed, I let out an extended sigh and tell him that "Joe" from electronics sent me over here because he had a problem with his credit card reader. The auto guy mumbles something mean about poor "Joe" but he reluctantly starts scanning my various non-automotive items. Of course, I sometimes have to deal with some bitching from people behind who came to get an oil change.But I'll just shrug my shoulders and say, "Hey, it's not my fault. Joe sent me over here. Take it up with him!"

It's a dog eat dog world out there, folks. You gotta be one step ahead of them. Be careful and happy shopping!

KW

Who's To Blame?

So, here we are on the brink of the busiest travel season of the year. The airports are always expected to be crowded but I don't think anyone will be prepared for the lines they'll experience this year. With all of the extra "security" measures, the patience of airline passengers will be tested like never before.

With all of the controversy over full body scans and getting felt up by TSA agents, it's easy to understand the people's frustration. How did getting from point A to point B become so complicated? Remember the good ol' days when you could arrive at the airport an hour before your flight and still have plenty of time to spare?

I've got trip coming up in a few weeks. And even though it's about 500 miles from my home, I'm considering driving. I figure it might take me less time to drive than go through all of the bullshit at the airports.

So, who's responsible for this snafu? Sure, it's really easy to direct our anger at the TSA agents. In my opinion, many of them are unprofessional and lack the necessary job skills to perform their duties. Not to mention, they can also be cold and unfriendly. However, to be fair, they're not the ones who perpetrated this whole security fiasco. They're only doing what they told to do.

Of course, it's not politically correct to say it, but radical Muslims are to blame. They hate everything about America. they will continue to work hard at creating havoc in our society. But somehow, we're supposed to pretend that this really isn't the case. Instead of viewing Muslim extremists as the enemy, we're supposed to "try to understand them". I've said it before, I learned everything that I need to know about radical Islam on September 11. Don't insult my intelligence by asking me to understand or tolerate an enemy who wants to kill me.

So, instead of using common sense tactics like Israel does, the US will continue with the politically correct dog and pony shows. And with all of the virtual strip searches and intrusive pat-downs, has any potential terrorist plots been uncovered? Do you really feel any safer watching a TSA agent frisk a five-year old like he was a West Baltimore drug suspect?

There seems to be a distinct characteristic pattern with the people who want to blow us up. I don't know why it's so taboo to come out and say it!

KW

Dancing With Bristol

Before we even get started, let me say that I'm no fan of Dancing With The Stars. So, there's no need to revoke my man card just yet. However, I do feel compelled to comment on whole Bristol Palin situation. 

Bristol, of course, has made it to the show's finale. But it sure hasn't been without it's share of controversy. Many of the show's fans feel that Palin should have been ousted from the very beginning. After all, she has consistently received low marks from the judges. Seems like a legitimate beef to me. However, the usual suspects from the left have a natural hatred for Bristol just because she happens to be the daughter of conservative lightning rod, Sarah Palin. (So much for all of that tolerance crap they're always trying to feed us!).

So, does Bristol Plain really deserve to be in the DWTS finale? Who cares? But here's the thing, even if she can't dance all that well, the viewers voted for her. That should count for something, right? But right on cue, there's already talk about voter fraud. 

And the plot thickens........

As a result of Palin's rise to the top of DWTS, she has begun receiving death threats. Yes, that's right, death threats. The liberals are going absolutely apeshit over the twenty year old single mother actually having a shot at winning a stupid dance contest. Speaking of shots, one idiot even got so upset that his poor television became the victim of a shotgun blast. This eventually led to a fifteen hour standoff with the police. Another open-minded individual sent an envelope containing white powder to Palin. Can you believe this nonsense??

In the past, DWTS has interviewed the winner's outside near Times Square. But as safety concern, the show will likely interview Palin (if she wins) inside the studio. Are you freggin' kidding me? It's a dance contest, for God's sake! Anyone who gets so upset over something like this has some serious priority issues (and probably some mental stability issues as well!).

For what it's worth, I really hope Bristol wins. Just for the simple reason of seeing all those "tolerant and open-minded" hypocrites squirm! 

KW

Can I See Some ID?

Ok, here's the story.....

I stop off at a local Walgreen's earlier today to pick up some cold medicine. Everything seems good. I'm cruising the aisles for various other items that I need (5-hour energy shots, sleeping pills, Red Bull, etc.). Eventually, I get to the cold medicine aisle where a small crowd is lumped together. So, now I have to stand on my tip-toes and do the bob-and-weave to see exactly where my preferred flu medicine is. I finally ask a guy in the front row to hand me a box of Tylenol Cold & Flu gel-caps.

So far, so good......

Walking through the store, I drop several of my items (someone always seems to hide those plastic shopping baskets when I decide to go shopping!). Somehow, I manage to make it to the check-out line. The woman in front of me is having a dispute with the cashier over the price of a large Hershey bar. Is it $1.99 or $2.49? That seems to be the million dollar question. I feel like paying for it myself, just to break the stalemate. (I was rolling with about three hours sleep and was a bit cranky).

After the Hershey bar summit finally comes to a conclusion, I drop my items on the counter. I'm waiting to pay, but the cashier is staring at me like I've done something wrong. So, like an imbecile, I say, "Can I help you?"

She replies, "Can I see your ID?"

I'm confused. First off, I didn't buy any alcoholic beverages. In fact, the only alcohol that Walgreen's even sells is the rubbing variety. And besides, I'm pretty confident that my gray hair and seasoned attitude make me a shoe-in for the 21 and older crowd.

Sounding like Vinny Barbarino, I respond, "My ID? For what?"

She just looks down at the scattered 5-Hour Energy, Gatorade, Ny-Quil and Cold & Flu gels. For what seemed like an eternity, she said nothing while shifting her gaze between me and my items. I have to admit, it probably didn't look good. But hey, I'm an adult and plus......... I have a cold!! But nonetheless, I now feel like I'm standing in line at the methadone clinic.

She then proceeds to tell me that the new rule says to card anyone under 40 who "tries" to purchase cold medicine. She explains that people "make drugs out of this stuff". My first thoughts are, "Aren't they already drugs? And I guess it's ok to 'make drugs out of this stuff' as long as you're over 40?"

Then, just as I'm trying to sort it all out, my new cashier friend delivers the coup de grace......

She takes a long, hard look at me and says, "Actually, I guess you do look old enough." Now, aside from making me feel like a crack addict, she insults my looks. And pouring salt on the wound, the people in the line start to giggle. Don't get me wrong, I know I look my age. But, all things considered, I certainly don't need to be reassured of it at this very moment!

I can feel the crowd staring at me as I swipe my credit card. Feeling like a circus clown, I think about throwing in a fake twitch or two for good measure. But I think better of it. The cashier finally deposits all of my items into a plastic bag. No more pleasantries, I just grab the bag and go. I can't help but feel like I was the topic of conversation after I left.

So now, I have a bruised ego to go along with my flu-like symptoms. Thank you very much, Walgreen's!

KW

Phone Progressions & Obsessions

I can remember a time when a telephone was a relatively simple thing. You picked up the handset, then dialed a phone number on a rotary dial. After each number, you had to patiently wait for the click-click-click to finish before you could dial the next digit. I always hated dialing phone numbers with the larger digits (ex. 789-9988) as it took so long to complete. It also had a tendency to give you a sore index finger!

The push button phone was a welcomed improvement. It was painless and you could dial a phone number in a fraction of the time. And as an added bonus, we would now be able to press 1 for English. Try doing that with a rotary dial phone!

Let's fast forward a couple of decades.....

When the cell/car phone was introduced, it was a convenience mainly used by businessmen. The price of the phone and airtime was pretty steep. I can remember phone calls costing something like a buck a minute. So, discussing the latest episode of Jersey Shore with your sister-in-law on the way to the grocery store didn't make a whole lot of sense.

At some point, cell phones became affordable to almost anyone. Today, every kid over the age of five has one. (I think the cell phone has become the new standard gift among kindergarten graduates.) And I could have swore that I saw a homeless guy yapping on one while pushing a shopping cart underneath the Jones Falls Expressway a few weeks ago.

Actually, we no longer use "cell phones". We now have mobile phones. And these pieces of modern technology are used for almost everything except talking. You can take pictures, play games, catch a TV show, send "tweets", trade stocks or even hurl a profane insult via Facebook. With all of these features, I'll bet some people are surprised when an actual phone call comes through. They're probably like, "Hey dude, what's that ringing noise? How do I make it stop?"

I'm always amazed with the kids and the text messaging. You'll see three or four of them walking abreast in a shopping mall. From a distance, they resemble a football team's offensive line. If you get in their path, they'll blindly run you over. Not a word between them as they rapidly send off important encrypted messages such as ROTFLMAO. (If a staircase happened to come into their path, they would all surely go for a tumble and be ROTF but certainly not LTAO.) Their thumbs work at a frantic pace, much like Forrest Gump playing a game of ping-pong. And if the sky fell, they would be totally oblivious to it. If we could just find a way to channel this concentration into their schoolwork, we'd have a new generation of Einstein's!

And did you ever notice what happens when a kid's phone gets lost or broken? It's like their world comes to an abrupt end. And when you try to console them by saying, "For God's sake. It's just a phone." They'll respond, "It's not just a phone! It's my life!"

What am I missing here??

With all of this being said, aside from an occasional text message, I still use my phone for actual phone calls. Call me crazy, but I guess I'm just a traditionalist at heart.......

KW

Our New Incomplete Kids

Just when you think that we can't coddle our children anymore, we've got this one to chew on. Schools are considering doing away with the traditional "F" for a failing grade. Apparently, an F is just too traumatizing for our youngster's. So, in today's politically correct society, we'll just give them an "I" (for incomplete). Maybe we can have the "incomplete kids" wash the blackboard after school so they can become whole again?

Since we're talking about the kid's feelings here, what if they totally misinterpret the meaning of the "I". After all, they're incomplete, right? What if they confuse the "I" to mean imbecile or incompetent? My God, what if they think it means idiot!

Seriously, what the hell is happening to our society? Are the kids really going to have any chance if we don't teach them the consequences of their actions? What's the point of even sending them to school anymore? Are they really learning anything???

I was recently talking to a Baltimore City school teacher. She told me that she gave several of her students failing grades (how dare she!) on their latest report cards. Guess what happened next. The teacher's superior told her that F's just aren't acceptable. She "should reevaluate the students because they need to pass". Are you freggin' kidding me? So basically, the lazy, undisciplined kid will pass just like the kid who busts his ass and studies every night. (I think this would qualify as a "putting lipstick on a pig" moment.)

It's an extremely competitive world out there. Our kids aren't going to have any chance of succeeding if we don't take the training wheels off. We need to teach them that failures will sometimes happen in their lives. But it doesn't mean that they can't overcome those failures and succeed.  If they are allowed to learn from their mistakes, they will be less likely to repeat them. I know I'm just stating the obvious. But many in our liberal minded society just don't get it. We need to stop dumbing down our kids!

So, will giving a student an "F" really make him/her feel less than adequate? I would hope so. If they feel bad about it, that tells me that there's still some hope for them. Like Whitney Houston once said, I believe the children are the future. But if we don't teach them well, how will they ever be able to lead the way?

KW

Airport Scannings and Pat-Downs

In the never ending adventures of airport security, there's now a backlash of opposition to the TSA's body scanning and pat-down procedures. On the surface, neither of these things seem to be a big deal. After all, we have to have some type of security screening process at the airports, right? So, if a quick body scan can keep the passengers moving along, what's the big deal?

But not so fast......

Keep in mind, the scanners are basically large x-ray machines. This means that they emit radiation. So, even though it's a relatively small dose, what potential harm does this present for frequent fliers? The director of the Center of Radiological Research at Columbia University has said that skin cancer would be the primary concern. Definitely something to think about.....

Also, some people might not want to let it all hang out for a mystery TSA screener to ogle over in the back room. I can understand this. For instance, say a celebrity walks through the scanner. Now, their naked image is stored on a hard drive somewhere. And although we're led to believe that it's only stored temporarily, you can bet your naked ass that someone will eventually get a hold of this image and market it to the National Enquirer.

Of course, you can decide not to go through the body scanner. This involves "opting out" and getting a physical pat-down by one of the intellectually challenged TSA agents. The new pat-down procedures require the agents to aggressively probe your most intimate of areas. So basically, the ladies get a free mammogram and the guys won't have to put of that dreaded prostate exam any longer! I guess it's kind of like getting laser eye surgery at the shopping mall, only more erotic.

And as the politicians like to say, what about our kids? Do you really want some TSA moron groping your teenage daughter? As a parent, I couldn't accept this.

I recently caught a flight out of Denver. While I was making my way through the screening line at DIA, I noticed a group of TSA agents gathering around an old lady. I know it's social taboo to talk about a woman's age, but this lady must have been about 90 years old! She looked absolutely petrified as a female TSA agent delivered what looked like karate chops to the elderly woman's arms and legs. I was really starting to wonder if a Rodney King style beatdown might be coming next. As I made my way through to scanner and into the terminal, they were still working on the poor lady....

And you're going to love this. Yesterday I was reading an article about how Muslim groups are up in arms about the new screening procedures. They say that it's against Islamic teaching for Muslims to be seen naked by other men and women. (Hmm, I wonder if it's against Islamic teachings to blow up planes and saw non-believer's heads off?). And for Muslim women who wear head scarves, CAIR (Council for American-Islamic Relations) has some specific instructions. If a woman should be picked for a secondary screening after going through the metal detector, she should only be searched about the head and neck area. The body is off limits. And these women should have the option to pat their own scarf down. WTF!

Muslims should be treated like any other passenger. If they choose not to oblige, it's quite simple: they don't have to fly. None of us want to go through any of this crap, but unfortunately it's now part of the world that we live in. And let's face it, as much as Whoopi Goldberg might disagree, Muslim extremists seem to be the ones who have a fascination with blowing stuff up. It sure ain't the Amish!

Hey, I have a good idea for airport security. How about making ALL passengers walk through a gate that will detonate ANY explosives. If you're clean, you quickly move through. If you're not, all I can say is "Clean up in aisle five!"

KW

Baltimore - An Ugly City?

Travel and Leisure magazine recently conducted a reader's survey on thirty-five American cities. The survey ranked the cities on things like hotels, nightlife, hospitals, restaurants, etc. It also ranked the people of each city on things like style, friendliness, athleticism and attractiveness. And this is where my hometown didn't stack up very well. Baltimore was ranked the second ugliest city in the US! (In case you're wondering, Memphis claimed the grand prize).

So, what do we make of it? Is Baltimore really that unattractive? Should I feel insulted consdering that I was born and raised in Baltimore. Perhaps I should just cut my head off and grow a scab? I just don't know...

This might help put a little perspective on things. Here's the good, bad and ugly of some of the more famous people who have, at some point, called Baltimore thier home:

• Babe Ruth - In my opinion, the greatest baseball player who ever lived. But let's face it, the Babe had a mug that could make an onion cry!
• John Astin - Most famous for playing the father on The Addam's Family.
• John Waters - Make your own judgement on how he looks. But his films are sure trashy.
• Nancy Pelosi - As much as I don't want to admit it, yes, she's from Baltimore. I'm not saying she's unattractive. But if ugliness were a brick, Nancy would be the Great Wall of China!
• David Hasselhoff - Ladies, you make the call. But, back in the day, he hung out on the beach with Pamela Anderson and Yasmine Bleeth. That's gotta count for something!
• Tom Clancy - Great writer but no one's going to mistake him for Brad Pitt.
• Melissa Stark - A former sideline reporter for Monday Night Football. A good looking woman who is knowledgeable about football. This makes her an automatic 10 in my book!
• Ric Ocasek - Front man for the rock band, The Cars. Sure, the the tall, lanky musician has to sneak up on a mirror. But, in true rock star fashion, he did marry a hot model.

I spend a fair amount of time in downtown Baltimore. So, I can see for myself how attractive or unattractive the people really are. For instance, I saw a twenty-something girl at a local Subway last week. She was all covered in tattoos and had multiple piercings across her face. I had to wonder if the tattoos and piercings were really just a twisted effort to hide her true appearance. I'm not kidding, this girl was scary enough to give Freddy Krugger a nightmare. The good news is, as long as there are freak shows, she'll always have a job.

And I was at a Baltimore area Wal-Mart (go figure!) recently and ran into a guy who could have easily been mistaken for Sasquatch. Seriously, this guy had so much hair growing from his neck, arms and ears I thought he might have been wearing a gorilla suit. His loose fitting Washington Wizard's basketball jersey forced everyone to reluctantly take notice. How bad was it? If this guy went to visit the zoo, they probably wouldn't let him leave. And when he needs medical attention, I'll bet he goes to a vet! Yeah, he was that hairy. Although this guy seemed to be Baltimore resident, let's not lose sight of the fact that this was Wal-Mart. A place that brings out the Jerry Springer guest in all of us.

Through the years, I have heard on occasion, "She's not much to look at, but she's really nice". (Come on, don't act surprised. You know you've heard this too!). It's kind of the consolation prize for not being blessed with good looks. So, with Baltimore having the moniker of "Charm City", you would think that it could have least be viewed as "really nice". But, noooo! The Time and Leisure article lists Baltimore as only the 29th friendliest city (out of 35).

Completing the trifecta, Baltimore also placed 29th in the list of most intelligent cities. So, not only does the rest of the country view us as ugly and mean. They think we're stupid too! I'm starting to feel like a pinata!

Let's try not to end on such a negative note. I have indeed seen some very friendly and attractive people around Baltimore. Of course, they were working at Hooters. But we've gotta start somewhere.

KW

Made In America

Just when I thought the overseas outsourcing couldn't get any worse, I found out today that Harley Davidson plans to build an assembly plant in India! Of course it's all in the name of business, but come on. We're talking about an American icon here! It's like baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet. (Actually, I think that certain Chevys are foreign made!)

I'm starting to wonder how long it will be before everything is made overseas. Several years ago, I bought a set of Craftsman wrenches from Sears. When you think of quality American tool brands, Craftsman immediately comes to mind. But to my surprise, when I got home I noticed that, instead of the familiar "Made in America" insignia, my new wrenches said "Made In China". I felt betrayed. When did this happen?

Along those same lines, I used to play a little guitar. One day back in the 1980's, I was killing some time in a local music store. I was gawking at the Fender Stratocasters behind the display case. For those who don't know, the Strat is an American icon in the music business. So anyway, I asked one of the store employees to let me check one out. Just as I'm getting ready to wail on the intro to Hell Bent For Leather, I notice that this particular Strat has an inscription that says "Made In Japan". I couldn't believe it. Jimi Hendrix must be rolling in his grave!

In a ironic twist, I bought my first foreign car in 1992. It happened to be a Honda Accord.. Afterwards, a good buddy of mine proceeded to bust my balls for not buying American. Since he drove an "all-American" Ford pick-up truck, he felt perfectly justified in making me feel like Jane Fonda. Well, upon further review, I discovered my Japanese Honda was actually made right here in the good ol' USA while my buddy's Ford was "assembled in Mexico". Kind of confusing, huh?

Unfortunately, I don't see the manufacturing jobs ever coming back to the US. The labor costs between the US and developing countries aren't even close. Of course, to some extent, we have cheap labor in America too. But it's usually at the hands of illegal immigrants.

Unfortunately, Made in America is quickly becoming a thing of the past.........

KW

Mid-Term Elections 2010

As a conservative, I feel pretty good today. The Republicans won big across the country last night in Obama’s first mid-term election. And if this doesn’t send the message that people are fed up with his radical idea of “change”, then he’s more clueless than I thought.

For the past couple of years, people in this country have been voicing their opposition to Obama’s radical visions of healthcare reform, cap & trade and wasteful stimulus packages. But did he listen? Hell, no. And, as a result, he paid the price last night by watching the Republicans take back the majority of the House of Representatives. The GOP also gained seats in the Senate, but the Democrats still retain a narrow majority (for now).

Although Sarah Palin and the TEA Party movement were vilified by the Left in this country, it didn’t really seem to matter to voters. Candidates endorsed by Palin and the TEA Party did remarkably well. Rand Paul, the TEA Party poster boy, won big in Kentucky. And despite a personal smear campaign by the Democrats against Nikki Haley in South Carolina, she prevailed and became the state's next Governor.

And how can you not love the success story of Florida's Marco Rubio? Rubio's victory speech was touching and inspirational. Born of Cuban exiles, Rubio is proof that America is indeed the land of opportunity. Don't be surprised to see this guy run for President one day.

Last year, I remember seeing Nancy Pelosi’s gloating face as she announced the passage of the healthcare bill. She rubbed a bill in our face that most of the Congress hadn’t even read! It made me sick. But Nancy doesn’t seem to be gloating today. In fact, she seems to be in hiding. And there’s probably a good reason for it. It gives me great pleasure to say this: As a result of last night’s Republican victories, Madame Nancy is no longer Speaker of the House. That felt so good, I’m going to say it again: Nancy Pelosi is no longer Speaker of the House! Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, Princess!

So, before the smoke has even cleared, we’re starting to hear the same ol’ political rhetoric. Democrats (including Obama) are now saying how they look forward to working with the Republicans. Aww, bullshit! That’s what you told us two years ago. Then you proceeded to push your liberal agenda with no attempt of “reaching across the aisle”. Please try to understand why I think you’re being less than truthful.

(On a local level, I’m a little disappointed that we’re still stuck with Martin O’Malley for four more years. Although, I really didn’t think Bob Erhlich had much of a chance in a heavy blue state, I was holding onto that little bit of hope.)

Overall, the people of this country have made a statement. They’re tired of the radical change that the Obama administration has been pushing over the past two years. Obama's twisted vision of "hope" has been exposed and people aren't buying it.  Do I personally think Obama will acknowledge this and move a little more to the center? No way. He is a narcissist and his ego will have no parts of a compromise.

So, over the next two years, expect a lot of bickering among the members of Congress. And this will only be exacerbated by the predictable incendiary remarks by Obama from time to time.

Get ready for a wild ride!

KW

Question A - Slots at Arundel Mills

One of hottest items on our local ballot this year is Question A. Basically, this is a referendum that, if voted in, will give Anne Arundel County the zoning rights to allow slot machines.

You can hardly drive ten yards anywhere in the county without seeing an advertisement for or against Question A. So, what does it all mean? Let’s break it down…

First off, there’s no denying that it will bring tons of revenue to the area. The ball park estimate is around $400 million per year. In a perfect scenario, much of this money will be used to fund the police and fire departments, schools, etc. And in an even more perfect world, it will keep our taxes down. So far, so good….

Another benefit is that a slots parlor at Arundel Mills will create thousands of new jobs. With today’s ailing job market, any guarantee of employment has to be looked at favorably.

Of course, there are those who oppose slots in Anne Arundel County. They have many reasons. Let’s examine a few.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that “the kids” are thrown into the argument. This is a politician’s version of “the race card”. Opponents say that a slots venue at the mall will be destructive to children. This is a weak argument in my opinion; First off, the slots parlor will be an entirely different building that will set across from the mall. Secondly, you have to be at least 21 years of age to even enter the slots parlor. And, by the way, has anyone ever been to Arundel Mills Mall at night? I think the slots machines should be the least of your worries if your kids are over there!

Other opponents say that the slot machines should be installed at nearby Laurel Racetrack instead. There’s just one problem with this. Laurel can’t get slots! The owners failed to participate in the bidding process so they can’t even be considered. Sorry, Charley……

Personally, I think we should have gotten slots several years ago. When Bob Erhlich ran for Governor, slots were a major focus of his campaign. Once he became Governor, his plan was stopped in it’s tracks by partisan Democrats who didn’t want to see a Republican Governor riding the money train that slots would inevitably provide. Amazingly, many of these same Democrats suddenly had a different vision when their boy, Martin O’Malley, became Governor. Even O’Malley himself thought that gambling was detrimental to families when Erhlich was pushing for slots. But once he decided to run for Governor, O’Malley suddenly thought that the idea of slots should be “examined”. He is a true politician…..

Speaking strictly from a gambling standpoint, I couldn’t care less about slot machines. Other than an occasional game of Keno, I’m not much of a gambler. Call me cheap, but I’m just not willing to risk losing my cash. (However, I did lose quite a bit in the stock market over the years. A story for another day….)

So, where do we go from here? Should we vote against Question A and continue to let neighboring states collect all of the gambling revenue? I went to a casino in Charlestown, West Virginia a couple of years ago and I can tell you, there were countless cars with Maryland tags. Whether here or there, people are going to gamble. So, why shouldn’t Maryland get some of the cake? (Speaking of cake, I hear there will be some nice restaurants at the casino).

With all of this being said, I plan on voting FOR Question A this Tuesday.

Whoever or whatever you chose to vote for is your business. But please, go out and vote. It’s the American thing to do!
KW

Sunday Football

Another autumn Sunday morning in Baltimore is upon us. The air is crisp, the sky is clear and the birds are chirping. But they all pale in comparison to what happens when the clock strikes one o'clock. That's when millions of football fans around the country will be glued to their televisions as they watch their favorite NFL tream go to work.

Football is America is truly an event. Anyone who has been to an NFL game knows exactly what I'm talking about. Fans will stake their spots out on the parking lot as early as 5 am. Before long, the whole area outside the stadium turns into a huge party. A typical breakfast here consists of a bratwurst and beer. How can you not love that!

I always love walking around and meeting the fans. As rowdy as they are, most of them are very welcoming. I've had people almost force me to sample their marinated wild duck or beer soaked brats. I'm always happy to oblige. It truly is a festive atmosphere and I always have a great time.

As one o'clock approaches, and the fans have completed their "warm-ups", they head towards the stadium. Of course, going through security creates a human traffic jam. I always get a kick out of the comments that come from frustrated fans as they wait to be frisked. Most of the derogatory jabs are directed at the opposing team's quarterback (If the Colts or Steelers are in town, the insults are priceless!).

Once the game begins, everyone suddenly becomes a football expert. If a play goes wrong, fans will immediately tell you why it didn't work. It's like be surrounded by a bunch of John Madden clones. The only thing missing is the virtual chalkboard.

If a referee makes a bad call, he is immediately greeted by a chorus of "Bullshit!" I have to admit, when coming from 60,000 people, the word does have a melodic quality! And by default, the poor ref instantly falls into the same category as Ben Rothlesberger (Baltimore fans affectionately refer to Big Big as "Douchebag").

Here's something that always amazes me. When a player makes a bonehead play, why does he always act like he's hurt? The dejected player will lay on the field (ultimately forcing a commercial break) appearing to be writhing in excruciating pain. Then, when he thinks that people have taken the opportunity to grab a beer or a bathroom break, he'll pop up like a kid on Christmas morning. Amazing! I think my brother-in-law puts this in perspective. When a player is rolling on the field in pain, he'll say, "Ahh, he ain't hurt! He's just disappointed!"

When the game is over, as a fan, you either feel totally euphoric (the alcohol could have a factor in this) or totally depresssed. If your team wins, you feel like you just got a big raise at work. If your team loses, you feel like you're from Detroit. It's really interesting on how seriously some fans take the game.

Well, enough talk. Kick off is in less than two hours. Time to put my game face on!

KW

The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet

We've all seen the advertisements for the all-you-can-eat buffets. For $24.95, you can gorge yourself on a smorgasbord of semi-edible food for as long as your cholesterol levels can handle it. It seems like a deal you just can't pass up, huh?

Honestly, I don't care for the all-you-can-eat deals. I would rather slap my twenty-five bucks down on a Victoria's Filet and a Foster's Lager at the local Outback. But let's face it, the buffets don't seem to be hurting for business.

A few years ago, I reluctantly joined some members of my family at a local Cactus Willy's. When I first walked through the front door, one thing was obvious: This sure as hell wasn't a Weight Watcher's meeting! Chunky people were fidgeting in line waiting to pay their admission fee. It was like watching junkies lining up at the methadone clinic!

Anyway, once I finally got inside, I walked past the serving area. I have to tell you, some of the stuff didn't look half bad. Maybe I could actually enjoy it. Plus, once I had a few beers, I'd likely be willing to sample everything from the imitation crab cakes to the mystery meat (which seemed to be giving off a neon glow).

Panic quickly struck in when I realized that this was a dry eatery. If I was going to do this, it would have to be without the liquid courage. So, I asked God to protect me from what I was about to receive, and I made my way towards the food line.

On my approach to the food station, I noticed a bunch of chunky little kids huddled together in front of the fried chicken. I'm not kidding, every kid seemed to have at least one of every chicken part on his plate. It was like each one had his own personal bucket of KFC. Did I mention that they were chunky?

Anyway, the kids must have been siblings, because after gathering up their fifty pounds of chicken, they all went back to the same table. I couldn't help but notice there was an enormous woman who I assume was their mother. The kids piled most of the chicken on a plate in front of the woman. It was stacked up about a foot and a half high. How could one person possibly eat all of this food? I had only seen this type of thing on the Discovery Channel before this. So, out of  morbid curiosity, I almost wanted to pull up a seat and watch. The woman resembled Jabba the Hut as she slowly devoured a drumstick.

While watching all of this unfold, I bumped into another woman with a heaping plate of food. The most peculiar thing here was that this woman was abnormally thin. Yeah, she kind of looked like Olive Oyl from Popeye. The plate of food she was carrying must have weighed nearly as much as she did. If she was better looking, I would have thought she was a model and was ultimately going to purge the contents of her plate. But, like I said, she looked like Shelly Duvall.

I noticed something else while glancing around the dining room. People here didn't care much for vegetables. French fries was about as close as it got. I even overheard one guy with a thick Baltimore accent telling his kids, "Don't wase' yer appetite on dose brockly an' carrits. It'll jes fill ya up. Ya need ta pile yer plate up wit dat meat! Dat way, ya git yer money's worth!" Fatherly advice at it's best.....

I turned my attention back to my plate, which was still empty. I mixed up a large salad, but there was nothing else that really appealed to me. I saw that there was some fried shrimp, so I grabbed a few of those. Then, I went headed back to my seat dreaming about that steak and Fosters at the Outback.

I must mention, that on occasion, there is one all-you-can-eat deal that I like. And that would be the crab deals. Yeah, I know the crabs tend to be small, but that's all right. But here's the thing that irritates me. Right after they bring me a pile hot steamed crabs, they'll dump a half dozen ears of corn and a table full of fried chicken in front of me. I always feel like saying, "WTF! If I wanted all-u-can-eat chicken, I'd go back and join Jabba and her miniature sumo wrestlers back at Cactus Willy's!"

Seriously, how did fried chicken end up in the all-u-can-eat crab deals? It drives me nuts!

When it comes to buffets in general, you can keep them. I don't want to eat myself into total discomfort just to feel like I got my money's worth. However, if one day, someone has the notion to come up with an all-u-can-eat steak and beer deal, I might seriously indulge in that one!

KW

Election Day - Let The Games Begin!

With the upcoming mid-term elections, you can expect all of the usual shenanigans. There will be accusations of voter fraud, voter intimidation, attack ads, etc. And you know there will countless dead people who will miraculously resurrect themselves just in time to cast a vote or two.  As outrageous as these things can sometimes be, we have been conditioned to accept them as "politics as usual".

I was just reading an article about a "controversial" ad that is being exhibited around the Milwaukee area. Billboards around town have been displaying the message "Voter Fraud Is A Felony". Seems pretty obvious to me. But, of course, there are those who see this an intimidation tactic to scare minorities away from the voting booth. What??

And at least one church has come out and said that the declaration of "voter fraud being illegal" is offensive to African-Americans. Hmmm, I wonder if this church felt the same way when members of the racist Black Panther group stood outside a polling place waving batons in Philadelphia in 2008? I guess they were there just to make sure everything was kept on the up and up? Quit pissing on my leg and telling it's raining!

And where are all the critics when groups like ACORN commit voter fraud to help get their favorite Democrat elected? Yeah, they have a bit of a reputation, don't you think??

There's no doubt that our country is divided on political issues. But we should be able to have a standard set of rules that everyone plays by. When the Obama justice department dropped the charges against the Black Panther episode, in what was a blatant display of voter intimidation, it proved to America that a double standard does indeed exist. (Of course, the Panthers were Obama supporters. I wonder if the charges would have been dropped if a McCain support group had done the same thing. I think we all know the answer to this.)

The right to vote is the cornerstone of a free society. Too many people have died over the years to preserve this right. We should never let anything or anyone infringe upon it!

KW

Candy Bars - A Retrospective

All right folks, sit back while I'll take you on a ride down memory lane. Well, sort of.....

When I was a youngster, I used to like to play baseball, climb trees and throw snowballs at anything that moved. However, these things were no match for my true love: Candy bars. If it had sugar and/or chocolate, it was destined to wind up in my digestive system.

There was always a wide variety of candy bars at Shapiro's corner store in my neighborhood. I would always look forward to marching my chubby ass down Maude Avenue to pick up my latest supply. My mind would be in a frenzy deciding on whether I would go with the always satisfying Snickers or something new and mysterious.

One time, I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was new candy bar in town. It was called the Marathon bar. It was about a foot long and was basically a long braid of caramel and chocolate. I had recently seen a Marathon commercial during an episode of Fat Albert. And, as the kids say today, I was stoked! After I finally purchased the thing, I was like a kid with a new puppy. I proudly walked down the street, past the other neighborhood kids, waving my braid of caramel and chocolaty goodness. While making my way through the ogling children, I was saying things like, "This thing is soooooo good. Don't ya wish you could have a bite?" Of course, I was just toying with them because, when they approached me, I would cram whatever was left of the candy bar into my mouth. (The joke would ultimately be on me as I spent my whole childhood as a "husky" kid with countless hours in a dentist's chair).

Some of the other candy bars that wound up in my temporary collection were:

• The Zagnut
• The Oh, Henry
• The Sky bar
• The $100,000 bar
• The Bit-O-Honey
• The Chunky bar
• The Clark bar
• The Mars bar
• The Reggie bar

And, it should come as no surprise, I was a huge fan of the Reese Cup. But there was another "cup" that was a much harder to come by: The Mallo Cup. I used to dream about these marshmallow filled pieces of chocolately heaven. The problem was that not many candy stores sold them. So, when I would accidently stumble on a place that sold them, I would impulsely say, "I'll take a whole box!". Of course, as a ten year old, I would never have enough nickels and dimes for the whole box. So, I would just scatter my change all over the counter and pathetically ask the cashier, "How much will this buy me?"

The poor old guy at the store would spend ten minutes counting the loose change, then finally shove three or four Mallo Cups in my direction. These days, the only one who can seem to find these things is my sister-in-law. Every now and then, she'll call me and say, "Hey Ken, I picked you up some Mallo Cups today." It's like the ten year in me instinctively kicks in because the next words out of my mouth are, "Come on Tina, we gotta take a ride! Now!"

Speaking of in-laws, my brother-in-law recently stumbled upon a lost gem: the elusive Chick-O-Stick. It's probably not technically considered a candy bar and it certainly has nothing to do with chicken. It's simply a crunchy piece of peanut butter bliss. It's kind of like a Butterfinger bar without the chocolate. You can never go wrong with a Chick-O-Stick!

The following message is brought to you by the Baby Ruth bar............

Although the Baby Ruth has been in production for over 100 years, and it still remains a best selling candy bar, there are some misconceptions about it. It's original name was the Kandy Kake. It was renamed the Baby Ruth bar in 1921. And although the Curtiss Candy Company claimed that the new name was a tribute to Preseident Grover Cleveland's daughter, and not the legendary baseball player, there was plenty of reason to doubt it......

After all, Grover Cleveland had left office in 1908 and his daughter, Ruth, had passed away at a young age in 1904. So, why wait until 1921 to rename the candy bar? Could it possibly be because Babe Ruth's popularity was on the rise during this time? And to add to the controversy, The Curtiss Candy Company had unsuccessfullt tried to negotiate an endorsement deal with the baseball slugger. Also worth noting is that the candy comapny had it's own baseball ties as it was located on the same street as Chicago's legendary Wrigley Field. But, after all of these years, the official story is that the bar is named after little Ruthie Cleveland. So, if this ever comes up in a trivia contest, you'll have me to thank!

Even today, I'm still a candy bar junkie. When I don't time for lunch, I often find myself stopping off at a vending machine for a Milky Way fix. And the large bag of Halloween candy that we buy for the pending treat or treaters is usually half empty by the time October 31st arrives. Hey, they're minature candy bars. If I happen to eat a dozen, is it really that bad?

Is it any wonder why I still spend way too much time in a dentist's chair???

KW

My Answer To Government Studies

It’s never a surprise when we hear stories about how the government wastes money. Sadly, most Americans expect our government to be inefficient. I guess Uncle Sam’s philosophy is: Keep your goals low and you’ll never be disappointed.

Well, today I learned that almost a million of our tax dollars was spent on a federal project called “Alcohol and Bar Violence”. And do you want to know what was discovered from this five year study?  

Drum roll please…….

For the bargain basement price of $918,856, it was found that bar fights tend to occur in venues that are relatively dark, dirty, noisy, hot, and crowded and that are frequented by a clientele of younger, less agreeable, less conscientious, more impulsive heavy drinkers.

The study also discovered that a woman who gets in a bar fight has consumed, on average, four times as many drinks as her usual intake and tends to resemble Tonya Harding. (Ok, I made up the part about the disgruntled iceskater).

Seriously, did it really take a million dollars to tell us that bar fights usually involve heavy drinkers who don’t agree with one another? Uncle Sam should have called me! I have some experience with bars (no comments from the peanut gallery!). I could have told the government the same thing for a fraction of the cost. Hell, I would have given them my findings for a case of Sam Adams Octoberfest!

So, as a public service, I’m going to try to save a few tax dollars for all of you hard working folks. Uncle Sam, please listen up. These are the results of some of the studies I have done over the years:

• Alcohol tends to make people seem much more interesting.
• Yuppies have a short life expectancy in West Baltimore.
• Shopping at Wal-Mart produces an endless supply of Kodak moments.
• Toothpaste sales are traditionally low among redneck households.
• Major League baseball players who hit the most homeruns often have puncture marks on their asses.
• The worst parts of town never have a shortage of places to cash a check or get a lake trout.
• Men who ride mopeds prefer mullets and high top tennis shoes.
• Inner city kids overwhelmingly excel over Amish kids in video game competitions.
• Midgets suck at basketball.
• White trash, no matter how dire the circumstances, always have a few bucks stashed away for a new tattoo.
• When you’re trying to eat a double cheeseburger while driving, you’ll never catch a red light.

Hey, I hope I saved us all a few bucks. So, take your extra cash and feel free to cozy up to a local bar. But try to avoid the dark, dirty, noisy, hot, and crowded ones. They tend to attract those younger, less agreeable, less conscientious, more impulsive heavy drinkers who like to fight!

KW

The Golden Years

When I used to think of people reaching their Golden Years, I had always envisioned a time when they could relax and enjoy life without all the hustle and bustle of the modern world. After all, for years, they worked hard at raising the kids, going to work, putting food on the table and countless other things. So, a ride into the sunset of retirement is well deserved…..

However, I’m noticing more and more senior citizens are remaining in the workplace. I’m sure there are many contributing factors (the need for health insurance, lack of retirement savings, etc.). Honestly, it’s quite troubling to me. It’s really heartbreaking to see a seventy-five year old woman flipping burgers at the local McDonalds.

Just the other day, I entered an office building in downtown Baltimore. As I approached the “security” desk, I noticed a little old lady who appeared to be about eighty years old. The ironic part is that she was wearing security guard uniform. Let’s be honest, what was this great-grandmother really going to “secure”? First off, I can’t imagine why this elderly woman would still be working at her age. But more concerning……… whose bright idea was it to give her a job as a security guard?

I’ll have to admit though, she was fiery. As I was waiting for my contact to arrive, in her heavy southern drawl, she gave me the lowdown on all of the “assholes” (her word, not mine) in the building. It was classic and she definitely brought a smile to my face.

I also remember an old government employee (I’ll call him Ulysses) who used to escort the contractors into the building. Calling this guy old is actually an understatement. I’m not sure of his exact age, but he could have quite possibly fought in the Civil War.

Whenever I went into this particular building, the front guard desk would always have to call for an escort. I would hope and pray that they didn’t call for Ulysses. Not that I had anything against the man, but a dead turtle could move faster than this guy! I knew my whole day would be tied up waiting for him to make his way down from the fifth floor.

After an hour or so, Ulysses would finally make his appearance. He would sign me in and the two of would begin the endless mile back up to the fifth floor. Not surprising, the walk gave us plenty of time to exchange everything thing that we knew about life. One time, I asked him, “So Ulysses, when are you going to retire?”

He said, “Why would I want to retire? All my friends and family are dead.”

Every morning, when this poor guy woke up, all he had to look forward to was his boring, monotonous job. It was quite depressing……

I don’t know what to make of all of this. I only hope that one day when and if I’m able to retire, I’ll be riding those golden years into the sunset with my toes in the water and ass in the sand………

KW

No Shortage Of Scapegoats

I’m really starting to wonder if anyone is responsible for anything anymore. It seems like the modern day mentality is: it’s always someone else’s fault. And there’s always plenty of blame to go around with no shortage of people to give it to.

If a thug commits a violent crime, you would think that it would be a cut and dried case. But no. There’s always an “underlying reason” .  You’ll hear all of the typical bullshit reasons. He came from a broken home, he has no education, his grandmother is a stripper, etc. It never ends……

I worked with a guy years ago who happened to have a drug problem. Not surprising, it seriously affected his ability to do his job. He would make appointments and never show up because he was out on a crack binge. So, my reaction was, “Fire his worthless ass.” But, of course, in today’s politically correct society, this could never happen. Can you guess what happened next?

You’re gonna love this. The guy goes out on disability! Yes, that’s right. He was able to take an extended paid vacation because he was “disabled” by his addiction to drugs. So, the rest of us had to pick up this asshole’s workload while he got paid to be “rehabilitated”.  I felt like kicking his ass but, because he was “disabled”, I would have probably been charged with a hate crime.

Let me say something about this. Drug addiction is not disability. It’s the result of your bad lifestyle choices. No one held a gun to your head and made you smoke that crack pipe. You made that call. Why should the rest of us be responsible for carrying your worthless ass?

We’re seeing the same type of thing with celebrities and athletes today. The same ones (Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, three quarters of the Cincinnati Bengals, etc.) are constantly getting into trouble. And we keep hearing the excuses as they get chance after chance after chance. I say send their asses up the road and give someone who’s doing the right thing a chance!

And remember the whole mortgage mess? People bought houses that they knew they couldn’t afford. So, when the bill comes due and they can’t pay, what do they do? They blame the banks for giving them the loans! Sorry, I’m not buying it. Did you really think that a $50,000 a year salary would pay for a $750,000 house? If you did, you’re a total dumbass. But once again, the responsible people get stuck paying for you. By the way, you’re welcome!

And the blame game goes all the way up to our highest level of government. When the Obama administration gets grilled on any issue, what do they do? They blame it on Bush, of course!

Whatever happened to the days of "the buck stops here"?

KW

US Gypsum - The Spatman Era

Many moons ago, I spent some time working at a local US Gypsum plant. For those who don't know, US Gypsum makes drywall (better known as Sheetrock). I know, it doesn't sound very exciting. And it's not. But, I did my best to make my brief stay there as memorable as it could possibly be. This is the story of my adventures and the emergence of my alter-ego, Spatman.

The bulk of my two and a half year stay at the gypsum plant was spent working as the “mixer operator”. I was responsible for controlling the “ingredients” that would eventually become the finished Sheetrock product. A large mixing machine would shoot wet “stucco” in between two moving layers of thick paper. My job was to make sure that the proper flow was maintained and that everything stayed at the right levels. I had to take test samples every thirty minutes. Yes, it was a boring, monotonous job but it gave me a lot of time to think.

My main tool was a long narrow spatula (simply know as a “spat” around the plant). By dipping the spat into the wet stucco, an experienced mixer operator could tell if all the ingredients were intact. By looking at the wet spat, I could see the fiberglass, vermiculite, etc. That's all you need to know about that......

On one midnight shift, the boredom drove me into a temporary episode of insanity. I tore off a generous amount of paper towels and tied them around my neck to resemble a long cape. As a group of coworkers came around the corner, I stepped in front of a fan and struck a Super Hero pose. I held my spat high while my cape flapped wildly behind me. The coworkers had this confused look on their faces. One of them finally asked, “Who are you supposed to be??”

I responded by simply saying, “I am Spatman! Leader of the Gypsum people!” And, just like that, a legend was born....

One my unique talents was that I could imitate certain superiors around the plant. I would often call my coworkers (posing as one of the foremen) and chew their asses out. I would say things like, “Hey Bob, I see you down there f*cking off! Get back to work or I'll send your ass up the road!” It was cruel but it made my day go by a whole lot quicker.

One time, I called a new guy up (posing as Mr. Stiller*) and told him to run up to the main office and bring back a board stretcher (This is an old construction site joke. There is no such thing as a “board stretcher”). I didn't think this dumbass would fall for it, but he did. The next thing I know, one of my coworkers says, “Hey Spatman, look who's coming. This can't be good.”

Here comes the rookie and the plant superintendant. Instead of asking one of the office workers for the stretcher, this moron goes right to the big man!

The Super says to the rookie, “So, who told you go get this board stretcher?”

The rookie says, “It was Mr. Stiller.”

Super responds, “Mr. Stiller? He's not even working today!!”

The rookie says, “Well, he said he was Mr. Stiller. And it sure sounded like him.”

I'd tried my best not to laugh. The Super was pissed but he couldn't prove who made the call. When the rookie passed me, he just mumbled, “You're an asshole.”

It got to the point where people didn't know if they where speaking to Spatman, the General Foreman or the President of the United States. One guy told me he actually hung up on the General Foreman several times because he thought it was me prank calling him. He got his ass reamed for that! Sorry......

When I wasn't prank calling coworkers, I would sometimes write little ditties about some of the more interesting people. It was all in good fun and everyone got a kick out of it. However one time, I went a little too far.

There was this one guy, Dickie*, who really liked to party. Ironically, Dickie actually resembled Tommy Chong. Well, it was around the holidays, so I thought everyone could use some Christmas cheer. So, I penned a song called Dickie the Burnout (sung to the tune of Frosty the Snowman). Seizing the opportunity, I fired up the PA system in the plant and started belting out:

“Dickie the burnout,
Is a jolly happy soul.
With a case of Bud and a fifth of Jack,
And some greens to fill his bowl....”

Keep in mind, my impressive vocals were blasted throughout the whole complex. Even the truckers outside the plant were treated to my acapella performance. I felt like I was playing at Madison Square Garden! The office workers scrambled to kill the PA system but I kept singing.

From my vantage point, I could see the workers on the floor below me. They were rolling. I could hear people laughing and saying, “It's freggin' Spatman!!” Honestly, I felt a little like Bruce Springsteen.

Well, shortly after my original rendition of Dickie the Burnout, Dickie himself came to pay me a visit. As he approached me, I was waiting for him to give me a high-five or something. After all, he had to appreciate that Spatman took the time to write a song in his honor, right? Not quite. Dickie was pissed!

In his Tommy Chong voice, he says, “Hey man, that's not cool. Why do you do shit like that? You're gonna get my ass fired. If the front office hears that stuff, they're gonna want me to take a piss test. And between me and you, I ain't passin' no piss test.” (Like he really needed to convince me of this)

I could tell that I really crossed the line with him. I immediately apologized. The last thing I wanted was to get someone fired for a stupid song (even if it was funny as hell!). And that was the end of my music career........

There was a wide variety of personalities in this place. There was this one guy, Marvin*, who worked in the quality department. Now, keep in mind, the quality department was in charge of making sure no damaged or inferior Sheetrock left the plant. Marvin would surely test the integrity of his department.

Spatman was a little nuts, but Marvin took craziness to a whole new level. One day, I saw him standing near my mixing machine with his back turned. I said, “Hey Marvin, what's up?”

He responds, “The pH level of your stucco mix!”

As I walk closer to him, I see that he's got his dick in his hand and he's standing there pissing into the mix! I couldn't believe it. He was really enjoying himself too. He laughs and says, “I wonder who's wall that piece is going to wind up on!”

Another time, a group of us went out for a few drinks after work. As he's standing at the bar, Marvin proceeds to relieve his kidneys. Yes, literally at the bar! The rest of us were scrabbling to get away from the river of piss that was rolling down the floor. This guy had some serious issues.......

There was this other guy, Jack*, who was obsessed with pornography. When he would open his locker at the beginning of the shift, a stack of skin mags would always fall out. No one could understand why Jack felt the need to bring this stuff to work. And, to add to the mystique, Jack would know the whole history and bio of all the girls in the magazines. He would speak with pride and enthusiasm as he brought us up to date on Miss January's new breast implants. It was more than a little disturbing.

Although it was mostly men that worked in the plant, there were a few females. And it always amazed me the way the guys reacted to the girls. They would act like adolescent boys discovering the opposite sex for the first time. I guess it might make sense if we were in a prison cell, but for an eight hour shift in a manufacturing plant, it seemed a bit over the top.

Moving on, there was a guy we referred to as "Sleepy John". His nickname was well deserved. I'm serious, this guy had trouble staying awake for more than five minutes at a time. He's the only person I've ever seen who could sleep while on his feet! He would have given Rip Van Winkle a run for his money.

Well, one day, a bunch of us hit a nearby basketball court after work. Sleepy John came along but we all figured we would just take a nap on one of the park benches. Anyway, he tells us that he's a decent ball player. We call his bluff and bring him on the court. I was concerned that he would fall alseep at midcourt and we'd all have to step over him. But to our amazement, basketball was the one thing that seemed to hold his attention. He was like Lebron James on the court. It was hard to comprehend.

There was this other character named Hoffberger*. He was a bit of a rough guy with a gravely voice that sounded like Froggy from The Little Rascals. This guy had this annoying habit of picking his nose or spitting while he was talking to you. One time, I was eating lunch in the break room and Hoffberger walks in. I immediately had the urge to eat my lunch somewhere else. He sits down right in front of me, and before he gets a word out, he buries his finger in his nose, up to the third knuckle. The guy was a real charmer.

Another time, from the second floor, I saw Hoffberger sleeping on his forklift below. I quickly transformed into Spatman and went to work. I took a huge roll of those brown paper towels and saturated them in a nearby sink. By the time I was done, I had a compressed ball the size of a small watermelon. This thing must have weighed about ten pounds! Anyway, I set my sights and hurled the water-bomb, from about forty feet above. It headed towards Hoffberger's forklift with the full force of gravity. As luck would have it, the projectile exploded right in the middle of his chest. Not only did it wake him up, it nearly drowned him!

A couple of other guys witnessed the ambush. They were trying to hold each other up as they doubled over with laughter. It was a proud moment for Spatman. If I knew how to dance, I would have definitely performed some kind of victory celebration.

Meanwhile, Hoffberger gathered his senses, and then came charging up the steps like a wounded animal. I have to admit, even though Spatman is supposed to be fearless, the thought of dealing with with this pissed-off guy was a little unsettling. I figured he already know who threw the water-bomb. But to my delight, Hoffberger says, “ Alright Spatman, who threw it??”

So, I did the only sensible thing and said, “I have no idea, Hoffberger. Why are you all wet??”

He just stared at me for a few seconds. I think he was contemplating whether or not to rip off my head. But I guess he figured that an assault on Spatman would be viewed as sacrilege by the rest of the plant. So, he just stormed off, back to his freshly washed forklift.

Although almost everyone was fair game for Spatman, there was one guy who I wouldn't mess with. His name was Carter*. I tell you, this guy was a true psycho. You would be talking to him and he would interject with crazy, off the wall comments like, “I like big titties” or “Do you know what happens to a body when it falls from a tall building and hits the sidewalk?”

I was seriously afraid of this guy and stayed as far away from him as possible. Years later, someone told me that Carter went on some kind of crime spree with his girlfriend and that he was now in prison. Wow, I never saw that one coming!

There was another guy that everyone referred to as Ragman. He would wear these tattered clothes to work every day. He made homeless people look like a wedding party. Every time I passed the guy, I felt the urge to hand him my spare change. I have no idea what his reasons were for dressing this way.

Meeting all of these characters gave me an idea. So, I started an impromptu newsletter simply known as The Gypsum Times. In my down time at the mixer (which was pretty much all the time), I would write short blurbs about all of the going-ons in the plant. For the brief time I did this, everyone got a real kick out of it. Hey, we were all stuck in the depressing place for eight hours a day. Why not lighten things up a little bit?

One day my foreman comes walking out with the latest issue of The Times. I tried to remember if I had given him any bad press. Anyway, he slaps it down on my desk and says, “Spatman, this shit's gotta stop. I'm getting all kind of heat from the office. I'm gonna have to shut you down.”

You would have thought that we were two executives from the Hearst Corporation.

And just like that, my publishing career came to an abrupt end. US Gypsum was squashing all of my dreams. As much fun as I was having, I knew the end was drawing near. Spatman was about to retire.........

For many reasons, I knew I needed to get out of this place. So, I eventually went in an gave my two weeks notice. I think everyone was shocked. After all, Spatman gave people hope, inspiration and a reason to come to work everyday. What were they to do now that he would be gone?

On my last day, the General Foreman walked up to me. I really thought he was going to lambaste me for all of my antics over the past couple of years. But to my surprise, he said, “Hey Spatman, it's been nice working with you. Best of luck to you. If you ever get into a jam, you'll always have a job here.”

Today, I occasionally run into people that work (or worked) at US Gypsum. I'll introduce myself as Ken. Then, I'll nonchlantly add,“They used to call me Spatman.” Then, they'll say, “Oh yeah, I've heard of you.”

The legend lives on.............

* the actual names have been changed to protect the innocent

KW

Memories of 9/11

It’s hard to believe that already been nine years since the infamous events of 9/11. I can still remember the events unfolding as if it were yesterday…...

I had gotten called out to work on the late evening of September 10. By the time I got back home, it was around three in the morning. As a result, I wound up sleeping later than usual. I woke up to the sound of my clock radio as the DJ was talking about a plane flying into a building. I was still groggy and didn't pay much attention. When I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, I flipped on the TV. Then, I saw the images of the first burning tower. Without even sipping my coffee, I was now fully awake.

I remember watching in horror as the second tower of the World Trade Center was hit. Shortly afterwards, the news was broadcast that the Pentagon was struck. My brother-in-law was working in Washington that day. I remember that we sent several text messages back and forth. The last one I sent simply said, “Get the hell out of the city!”

When I eventually made my way out to work that morning, there was a unique stillness in the air that I can only describe as eerie. As I drove around the Baltimore beltway, the lack of activity, in a strange way, reminded me of Christmas Day when everyone was comfortably huddled inside among family and friends. Although, many of us were huddled together on that September morning, it was far from a holiday.

Watching the terror that was being inflicted on our country was sickening. I think every possible emotion ran through my nervous system that day. Strangely enough, at one point, I almost started to feel sorry for the animals behind the attack. My thought was, “You bastards have just f*cked with the wrong country!”

Some of the images from that day will forever be ingrained in my memory……

I remember watching a video clip of a fireman inside the lobby of one of the towers. He had a confused look of terror in his eyes. There were sounds falling objects beyond the large front windows. With every thud, the fireman looked even more confused. I later learned that the “falling objects” were actually people who had jumped from the upper floors to avoid the intense heat from the fire.

I remember seeing people covered in soot scrambling to get out of lower Manhattan. I felt so bad for them.

Rescue workers rushed into the burning Towers, attempting to save as many people as possible. They climbed countless stairs with loads of heavy equipment. They were scared, but they did it anyway. That, my friends, is the definition of bravery! Thinking about their heroics, today, still gives me chills.

Fueling my anger, I watched a live video clip of a street scene in Pakistan. Muslims were celebrating as they watched the Twins Towers crumble. I developed an instant hatred for these people. How could they celebrate as thousands of innocent civilians were being murdered?? I learned all I ever wanted to know about fundamentalist Islam that day.

I remember watching members of Congress joining together in front of the Capital for a rendition of God Bless America. The sent a message to the world that, although we were reeling from the raw pain of the attacks, nothing could ever break our spirit. Indeed, united we would stand!

As I tried to digest the day’s events, something magical happened. For the first time that I can ever remember, there were no differences in this country. We weren't black or white. We weren't Democrats and Republicans. There were no liberals or conservatives. We were all in this together and we were all simply Americans.

Several weeks after the attacks, I was watching the World Series in a bar in Colorado. New York happened to be playing Arizona. And September 11 was still fresh in everyone’s mind. At one point, a New York player hit a homerun and I instinctively shouted, “Yeah, baby!!” For the first time in my life, I was actually rooting for the Yankees. And a quick scan of the barroom told me that everyone else was too.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..............

Earlier this year, while in New York City, I took a tour of Ground Zero. It was a cold winter day. Construction equipment now sat in the space the Twin Towers once occupied. But my mind kept flashing back to the chaos that took place here nine years earlier.

Our chaperon was much more than your average tour guide. She was a 9/11 survivor. She had worked in one of the towers and told us from a firsthand point of view of what things were like on that September morning. At times, she had to pause as the emotions from that day came roaring back. She told us about the friends and colleagues that she lost that day. Although everyone hoped and prayed that their loved ones would be found, too many of them never came home.

She also told us about the local people who were displaced from their homes around Ground Zero. Many of them weren't allowed to go back for months. Pets were left alone in vacant homes to fend for themselves…..

She took us around the whole WTC complex, explaining the significance of each vantage point. When we finally reached the end of the tour, we all thanked her for sharing her story with us. It couldn't have been easy for her. But she explained that she has to talk about it. It’s part of her healing process. God bless her.

After the tour, we stopped off at the small museum across from Ground Zero. Although there were multiple artifacts from the event, the thing that struck a chord for me was the letters that were left near the fallen buildings. These were letters with photos of friends and family members who were missing after the towers collapsed. It was overwhelming and I felt myself welling up as I read each letter. In reality, each one of these photos and letters represented a human life that was lost on that day. It was truly heartbreaking….

I’m sure we all have our own recollections of how we felt that day. In an instant, we forgot about the trivial things in our lives, and we saw what really mattered. Oddly, the most trying times often bring out the best of the human spirit. There was no doubt that America would indeed prevail over the cowardly terrorist attacks of 9/11.

Please take a moment today to remember those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001 and all of those who bravely gave all in the continuing war on terrorism.. May they all rest in peace and may God bless America.......

kw