Post-Halloween Scary Smackdown: Monster Mash

The Lads were with their Ma in Beaufort on this All Hallow's Eve, so I was stuck with door duty (yeah, I know: I said doody) here in the Boro. Last year I think I had three or four Trick or Treaters. This year I had ten or twelve. I guess in a tight economy, you take whatever you can get. Anyway, Chase requested a new smackdown. Since it's Halloween, I figured it was time for a scary song Smackdown. What's more Halloween-y than the Monster Mash? (it's rhetorical. Don't answer that). First: the classic by Bobby "Boris" Picket and the Crypt Kicker Five (with clips from Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace).



Next, a harder version by the Misfits.



This next one is just painful. Bobby Brown and Mike Tyson. Extra credit to anyone who can watch it all the way through.



And last, but maybe first, an interesting version by Mannheim Steamroller.

Happy Halloween: Let's Do the Time Warp Again.

Last night I watched on television The Rocky Horror Picture Show with one of the Lads. I tried to explain the thrill that a whole bunch of us felt thirty years ago taking sacks full of props to this movie at midnight many weeks in a row (actually, I think I only went six times or so). I pointed out where I- and most of the crowd- would shout pre-determined comments at the screen; where we would throw rice or toast or where we might squirt water pistols. I told him that, unlike many in the crowd, I never dressed in character, but I did do the Time Warp. I'd earlier told the Lads that they were a little too old to be Trick or Treating. Hmmm. Maybe not. Shoot, let's do the Time Warp again!

The Ropers

I don't have lots of time to channel surf most days, but I did just that for a half an hour or so the other day, and caught an episode of the "Three's Company" spin-off The Ropers. You know, Jack Tripper and company's old landlords. Jeffrey Tambor was in it, at his creepy/funny best. Anyway, I tried to find a Ropers clip, but found this music instead. I liked it. Maybe you will, too.

Why We Need Regulations, Part 1.

Hmmm. I need to get out of jail, AND I need a handgun and some training in concealed weapons. And I need it now, before the Election. Surely I'll need to go to three different places. Nope. Lookee here in the Walterboro Shopper. Call it career assistence. The Small Business Robbers Association.

Random Shots, part 1

Among the random photos I've taken over the past month or so is this prima donna. Really, they're just bugs when you get down to it, but they are purdy. Ashton Kucher, eat your heart out. In an effort to flesh out this post I trolled YouTube, and found one of the more bizarre American Bandstand bits. Iron Butterfly (or as Dick Clark announced "The Iron Butterfly") is really not suited for the cheery pop music vibe of American Bandstand. The lip-syching and pre-recorded nature of AB is also not really suited for heavy metal, either. And the interview at the end makes Dick Clark look like somebody's dad complaining about how loud it all is.



Now Bart Simpson GETS Iron Butterfly:

Gettin' Out the Cemetary Vote.

Elderly lady in North Charleston casts her absentee vote, then dies. Absentee ballots are counted after the polls close. Does her vote count? I hope this lady's vote count. She sounds like one cool chick. If they don't count it, Voter Office is going to be damn busy checking the status of ALL the absentee voters.

Anyway, I was wondering where I'd see this lady before. Ah, now I remember: she's the forgotten member of Devo.

Should you count on this lady's vote counting? Don't know, but you can count on Jefferson Starship:

Hush Puppies are Dumb.

I always liked Hush Puppies, but I've never had any in my adult years. I bought a pair on Thursday (on sale 50% off at Belk's). Tina would not have approved. Mom would have found them inappropriate for work. Dad? "Son, you're a boy. Why are you talking about shoes?" I actually do enjoy grocery shopping, and I don't mind giving restaurants my hardly earned ducats; however, the act of shopping for items that may reflect personality (or might require spending large sums of money) has historically been painful for me. For the lion's share of my existence, I let other people define me, I guess. I enjoyed competition whether in football or in court because I could measure my value. If I won, I must be okay. If you laughed at my jokes, I must be okay. I still like telling jokes. I still enjoy being around people, but I don't need it like I used to need it. I don't mind my own company anymore. One goal (or result) of enlightenment is to quiet the chattering monkeys in our minds. A Buddhist reference, I think. Oddly, as my old Eastern Philosophy classes begin to take hold, I become a better Western Capitalist: I shop; therefore I am? No: I am okay; therefore I shop.

While searching YouTube for an old Hush Puppies commercial, I found these guys. Pretty cool.

We are the Champions.

The Lads' futbol team has done well this year. Colleton County is not very populous; consequently, there aren't a lot of schools. One high school and three middle schools, is all (plus the private school). Only three middle schools means only two teams to play, so you play each team three times (and have two bye weeks). The teams reflect the areas in which they are located: Ruffin is in "the Country". As silly as it sounds to people who live in real cities, the rest of Colleton County regards Walterboro, with its 5000 or so residents, as "the City". People in "the Country" regard city folks the way people in Rocky Creek used to regard people in Town and Country in Tampa back in the day: "Slicks". There aren't a bunch of farms in Colleton County, but Ruffin kids are essentially farm kids, and they're pretty tough, too. The Lads' team, the Forest Circle Middle School Falcons, have not had a storied history, I'm told. FCMS is located in what you might call "the Suburbs". While most white kids go to the private school, FCMS is about forty percent white, and mostly middle class. Before I sent the Lads there, I researched it, and also visited it. It's nice. The children are generally well behaved and respectful, and it seems to be a decent atmosphere for learning. The Colleton Middle School Bulldogs are the big dogs, I'm told. The school regards itself as "inner-city". It is overwhelmingly socially disadvantaged, and, one department of juvenile justice employee told me that most of the referrals they get are from Colleton Middle School. The Bulldogs pride themselves in being street tough. And they are. One school employee (and quasi-coach) told me that the Falcons hadn't beaten the Bulldogs in five years.

The Falcons beat the Ruffin Patriots both times they played this season. The first time the Falcons played the Bulldogs, the Bulldogs won 7-0 on the field (with a lot of help from the refs. Don't get me started...); however, the Falcons got the game back by forfeit when it turned out the Bulldogs had two players on their team that were overage (one, I think, was sixteen. A sixteen year old playing against 11-13 year olds. Geez, guys, this isn't the Beijing Olympics). So, their first win in five years against the Bulldogs came by forfeit. A win's a win, I guess, but it'd be nice to beat them on the field. In a game filled with more drama than you're likely to want to hear, the Falcons pulled it off. I was actually a sports writer for the Jasper Sun for one season, and I'd love to write about it, but, without an editor to cut it back, well... it was a good game. The Twins played pretty well on defense. They got roughed up a little on offense, but they both played their best when it counted. Taylor got a crucial sack on the second to last play, and The Lads' squad won 14 to 8 in overtime. They play each team one more time, but since the Falcons have beaten each team twice, no other team can have a better record, which makes the Falcons the Colleton County champs. Oh, yeah! Champs, Baby!

Will My Vote Count?

My Belgian friend, Dirk, called me the other day to check up on the Presidential election. It seems that what America does has a profound effect on the rest of the world, which is why the whole "Sarah Palin didn't have a passport until 6:30 this morning", or whatever, seems to bug the folks in Europe. Anyway, Dirk asked me for whom I was going to vote. I actually already voted. Absentee ballots and early voting are ridiculously easy. I was not going to be able to vote in two weeks because of work, so I voted last Friday (local and circuit elections as well as president, congress and Senate. I voted for a few Democrats and a few Republicans. I didn't vote for Soil and Conservation Commissioner because I knew- and know- absolutely nothing about anyone running for the office).

I told him that, though I did vote for a Presidential candidate, that my vote probably wouldn't count for much because South Carolina is pretty solidly a "Red State" and that our State would elect delegates who would vote for McCain. He asked why America, the beacon of Democracy, did not have direct elections for president. How was it possible that America, the beacon of Democracy, could have a system where a presidential candidate could win, as Bush did in 2000, with not only not a majority of the votes cast, but not even the most votes of the candidates running. I told him that, best as I could figure, the electoral college was designed so that people would have to visit New Hampshire. Yeah, yeah, I know: balancing the power of individual states versus the tyranny of the majority of the country is why California and Wyoming get the same number of senators, but why can't we trust our citizens enough to allow the majority of them to decide who gets to be the president? I know this post is, like, SO seven and a half years ago, but the question is still relevant.

Votes in Florida, Ohio and North Carolina matter. Those are "swing states". If either candidate gets a plurality of the votes, they get that state's votes. McCain conceded Michigan. A vote for McCain there is a just something to do for a couple of hours. The pollsters- and history- suggest that a vote for Obama in South Carolina is the same. It would be nice if all of our votes actually counted- wherever in America we live. At least my vote only took about ten minutes.

Peggle.

Just say no to Peggle. The Lads were dealing some video addiction last week. They generally bogart the computer when they're not at school or football practice, so I sneak what time I can. Once in awhile I'll look over their shoulder to check out the various monsters they've killed on World of Warcraft, or just let them know I'm about to keep them from travelling too far out into cyberspace. "Here, Dad. Play this. It's fun", they tell me as they hand over the mouse to play a round of Peggle. They might have added, "The first hit's free". Hey, I can quit any time I want.

Sew, A Needle Pulling Thread.

First of all, let me explain that I'll be watching- vigorously watching- college football later today. Aight? Okay, if we're clear on that, I'll cop to sewing last night. I'm really not sure which is worse: that I was sewing; or that I was sewing on a Friday night. Anyway, I lost a button on a shirt that wasn't yet in tatters. This isn't a very expensive shirt, but it had extra buttons on the bottom of the shirt-tail, so I assumed you're not just supposed to throw it away if you lose a button. I hate clothes shopping anyway, so I figure I'll take five minutes and sew on one of those extra buttons they give you. Wait. I don't have a sewing kit (at least there's that). Sew... er, "so" I scooted up to Walgreen's and picked up the cheapest kit they had- three dollars and fiddy cent.
To work I go. Ah, here it is. Hmmm. So-so sewing at best. Gas, time and money for the kit. And Belk's is having a sale. Now I am depressed. Maybe the Kids in the Hall can make it all better:

Three of These Things... (part 1)

Remember the old Sesame Street bit, "Three of these things"? No? Well, here's one:



Let's try it. Which of the next three things doesn't belong?









Well? That's right, the first three all feature prominent tongue-flickering. The fourth one was just a licking (note that this was game 4, not game 5. And I know better than to count the Sox out of an ALCS series).

Glasses.

Recently I took the Lads in for an eye exam. We stopped in at the handy Wal-Mart Supercenter for the exam. Let me be more candid: we were at Wal-Mart, and I thought we might as well get an eye exam since we had time and it was so convenient. Anyway, I got one for myself while I was there. Five hundred "uncovered expense" dollars later, the Lads and I each had glasses ordered. My unlined bi-focals were the most expensive.

They arrived. Now what to do. Wear them? Glasses? But, we look... different. At thirteen OMG years old, the Lads have an excuse for their vanity. Me? Not so much.
Anyway, Taylor boldly agreed to model his pair. Glasses, sadly, address only myopia, not attitude.

Endangered Species: Ice Cream Truck

I was hanging out with the Lads a few days ago, and I heard a noise that resounded in my inner being: the ancient nursery rhyme tones of the Ice Cream Man. Hadn't heard that sound in years. I rallied the troops. "Tyler, catch that truck!", I screamed. I scream. You scream. We all scream for ice cream. I think this driver didn't get the concept that, when you're an ice cream truck, your SUPPOSED to be caught. I think the guy thought his name was Earnhardt or something. Anyway, Tyler flagged him down, and we had the rare privilege of paying a dollar a treat too much for ice cream. Didn't matter. The ice cream man brought us treats. Diamond Dave understood.

Now I'm Too Tired to Run

My baby girl (well, she's 18, but she'll always be my little girl) has had the blues lately, and she blessed me out for not spending enough time with her. I tried to think of a way to get her more physically active- which always makes me feel better and I figured would help her, too- and a way to spend more time with her. Hmmm. I know! I'll challenge her to run a 5K race with me. But how to convince her to run every day when I can't get over to Beaufort buy maybe once a week? Hmmm. I know! I'll get her an i-Pod with the Nike + i-Pod sport kit. She'll have tunes, and we'll be able to compare on-line running journals. So, on Monday I ordered her an i-Pod nano and a Nike + Sports kit to go with it.

The economy's bad, to be sure, but, for the moment at least, the we are still able to conduct commerce on a scale unimaginable even a few decades ago. I remember television shows from my youth where the older folks talked about Sears and Roebuck "wish books"- catalogues containing stuff that hardly any "regular folks" could actually afford, but which were for sale through the mail. I've done some catalogue shopping over the years. For the big stuff, I'd go to Sears or Penney's and find what I wanted in the catalogues, pay my money and place my order with the store clerk. If I had the big catalogue at home, I'd call in my order, but usually I'd still have to pick it up at the store. A few weeks later, I'd get a call that my package was in, and I'd drive up to the store and pick it up. Smaller stuff, say a shirt from L.L. Bean or something, they'd send right to the house of course, but you still had to wait a couple of weeks or so. The Internet has really juiced up the process. I got Caroline's gear on Friday. And just look at the turf the stuff covered:

My order is received, and the shipment begins in Shenzhen, China, just North of Hong Kong, on Tuesday Afternoon. It clears customs, and arrives in Anchorage, Alaska (where I don't know, but I assume, Sarah Palin was instantly able to learn more about Sino-American relations as a result).
From Anchorage, just look at thse items go! They're moving so fast, they ought to be at Indy. Oh, they are. From Indianapolis, IN to Memphis, TN. From Memphis, TN, to Charleston, SC. Finally, from Charleston to the Boro. Less than a week from order to arrival.
Check it out. My girl and I'll be knocking out a 5K in no time flat with this gear. And no McCain stickers. Fancy that.

Baby Changing? Gimme a Puppy and Two Kittehs.

...Not that I hadn't thought about it.

Just Give Me Some Kinda Sign.

It's bad love, I know, but the decision is not really mine. When the hot light's on, I salivate. Paired associations, just like that Russian dude's pooch. My car drives itself into the parking lot: Stephen King's "Christine" with a sweet tooth. I see nothing; know nothing. Next thing I know, my wallet's ever so slightly lighter and my belt is distinctly tighter. One of my oldest's first favorite songs was, I'm sure he's embarrassed to recall, "The Sign" by Ace of Base.

(Unnecessary) Image Award

Uh, does that plunger have a label with a picture of a plunger on it? I guess that's important if, you know, you weren't sure you were buying a plunger.

Ah, Look at All the Lonely People.

With all the zillions of pictures from my Myrtle Beach adventure over the last two and a half posts (and really, I expected someone to comment about the naked guy in that one picture), I still did more stuff. Whilst there, I caught "Burn After Reading", a serious relationship movie disguised as a dark spy comedy. A Coen Brothers movie with John Malkovich, Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Francis McDormand had to be a winner, right? Well, yeah, kinda. The acting was good, the actors were cast in roles with which we'd be familiar: John Malkovich is sarcastic and edgy; George Clooney is a philanderer; Tilda Swinton, the White Witch from the Narnia Chronicles, is, well, a witch. Still, even though we care about them, we don't really like any of them. Well, I kind of liked J.K. Simmons as the CIA supervisor, because his character is really the only one that knows what he's doing. Francis McDormand knows what she wants, but it's not the same thing. Everyone is stupid and self-interested, and, mostly, lonely. The movie reeks of desperation. One of the scenes set in a public park shows bench after bench of hopeless, lost and lonely souls. Still, I liked it. I think. I'll probably watch it again on video. But next time, I think I'll try to watch it with someone. Got to cap this off with some music. "Message in a Bottle" by the Police? Nah, there's hope at the end of that one. I know, let's go with the Beatles:

Roadtrip: Myrtle Beach (part 2)

After a good night's sleep, it's on the the conference. No bacon and eggs here. Even the coffee was "cruelty-free, untested on cute woodland animals, South American revolutionary third-world dictatorship approved" or something like that. It's about the only time I ate healthy on this trip.
They have to ruin a perfectly fine trip with these stupid classes.

It's soporific!

Scintillating!

I always try to stop by the House of Blues whenever I'm in Myrtle Beach. Just missed the concerts, but I grabbed lunch, anyway.

Interesting vibe.

This is great. Uh, got any food?

Now we're talking! Did I mention that the seminar breakfasts were the only time I ate healthy?







One of the Myrtle Beach attractions I'd eagerly anticipated was a new Rock and Roll themed amusement park, Hard Rock Park. It'd only been open a couple of months, and appears to be in bankruptcy now. It closed down about two weeks ago. The Park says it's only closed "For the Season", but all most all of the signage is gone and the place looks like a ghost town. Man, if it'd been open just a couple more weeks and I'd've SO been there.


We decide to cut out a little early and head back to the Boro. Before we leave Myrtle Beach, a little breakfast seems in order. This place looks good.

Old-timey Myrtle Beach scene in the restaurant. Hmmm. Can you spot something, er, unusual about this picture?

Just say "no" to crack?

In the end, Harris gets a hug, and waitress Sara gets a nice tip.

Captain Putt-Putt bids us farewell from Myrtle Beach. We took the low road this time, through Charleston.

Well, you'd expect to find "Cooter's" in McClellanville.

God's soup kitchen. I understand the bisque is out of this world.

Then back home. Back to the Lads; back to my own bed; back to work.

Mystery Post

I didn't actually post anything here intentionally. I didn't actually know I had. Maybe my son or brother stole my identity (again), and did it. Anyway, since QJ commented, I had to create something. Guess I'll also put in a random pictures from the convention that I haven't used.

Roadtrip: Myrtle Beach (part 1)

There are two attorneys in the Colleton County branch of the 14th Circuit Public Defender's Office: Harris and me. Last Sunday, we climbed into the SpongeBob Mobile and headed for the Annual South Carolina Public Defender's Conference in Myrtle Beach. We'll head along Highway 17A through Moncks Corner to 17 in Georgetown, then the high road to North Myrtle Beach. A little over three hours of easy driving.

Super Market? Not hardly. But this place in Ladson is OK. Okay if you are looking for cigarettes, anyway.

We arrive in Myrtle Beach in the not-too-late afternoon. An early third meal at the River City Cafe in Barefoot Landing included complementary buckets of peanuts. The free peanuts inspired one daring group of visitors. I only caught the last bit of their rousing version of "Found a Peanut":


We checked in to Barefoot Resorts, right across the Inter-coastal Waterway from Barefoot Landing in North Myrtle Beach.

Harris got a room with a parking lot view. My view? I tried not to talk about it (Nice, huh?).

Ouch!

The Lads had some company over Friday Night. They were all horsing around outside, when the youngest twin (by five minutes), Taylor, let out a howl of pain. "Dad! Something shocked me!". He was hopping up and down, holding his hand. "It's some sort of weird insect".







I smashed it with the first thing I could find, which was a phonebook. A Walterboro phonebook is not an impressive sight: Five by seven inches and about half an inch thick. Still, it's more than a match for most insects. I collected up the quarry, and took a closer look. Ah, here we go. Appropriately catalogued Caterpillar under "O" for Ouch! Wonder what kind it is.



Hmmm. Apparently, Taylor was attacked by a Saddleback Caterpillar. Looks like they won't kill you. A little soap and water and a cold washrag and Taylor should be good to go.