College Daze.

I'm trying to learn the Facebook thing. Bob Calder, one of my buds from Florida State posted this picture under Yesteryear (you can click on it to enlarge). Like a lot of things in that era, I can't tell you exactly where this was (Tallahassee? Tampa?) or exactly when, but it was in the Early 80's, for sure. Dave Stitt, on the far left next to me, was a housemate for awhile. Funny guy and a great cook. Russ, on the floor to my right, has been my friend since fifth grade. Scott Anderson, to Russ' right, was hilarious and full of life. He died a few years ago of congestive heart failure, but he left his mark on me and a lot of other folks. Russ' sister, Sarah, has done alright for herself. Married to a doctor in Southwest Georgia with a couple of kids. Missy, to the right, is a paralegal in Tampa, I think. Thanks, Bob, for dredging up this old piece of my youth.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

Among the "Here's a topic. Discuss" gimmicks that is making the rounds on Facebook of late is "Name your top 15 Albums". Got me to thinking: music matters, but maybe not in the same way it did "back in the day". The way we listen to music has changed a lot over the years. Not just vinyl albums to cds to digital music on the computer or MP3 players, but that's part of it. Part of it, too, is the "music on demand" nature of i-Tunes and dominance of virtual culture. Radio stations used to dictate the music we heard. Sure, we could, if we were very lucky, get through to the studio with a request for a song, but generally we listened to what they gave us. It was a shared experience. Sure, album sales may have dictated, to a degree, what music was played within a given format; but probably to a greater degree, the albums we bought were dictated by the music that the radio stations played. The release of a new album by a popular artist was an anticipated event. In the early-1970's, Elton John was king. I didn't have all of his albums, but I had a bunch. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road was Elton's first double album, and its release was an event. I loved this album, and that's a good thing, because in the Summer of 1974, there was no escaping it. "Bennie and the Jets", "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road", and "Harmony" were omnipresent. I remember walking the beach in Clearwater (or was it Ben T. Davis Municipal Beach in Tampa?) and hearing three different songs from that album on three different radio stations at the same time. Good times. Good times. The video below is just the song and the album cover. Just like back in the day.

Credo.

The Lads had to write "mission statements" for a class. Apparently, there were various suggestions about preparing mind and body for success, for learning to be good students and good citizens, and things of that sort. My Boys aren't as civilized as all that. I think this is what they came up with:

The Joy of Socks.

Because I like the picture, is why.

The Oscars.

I watched the Oscars last night. I actually saw fewer "good" movies last year than any year in my life. The Boro's lone theater doesn't generally show "artsy" films. Alas, since my forays into entertainment are generally with my children these days, it probably wouldn't matter if Ivanhoe Cinemas did show them. "Boys, we're going to the movies. Want to see "The Reader"? Well, I'm not really sure what it's about, but the critics love it. What? No, Adam Sandler isn't in it. No, I'm pretty sure nothing gets blown up. Fine, we'll see Iron Man". I did see a couple of Academy Award nominated films. Yeah. You guessed it: The Dark Knight and Iron Man. I'll see others, eventually.

Easy?

A few months ago, I bought an oven. The one that came with the house had a couple of broken burners, and the bottom element in the oven didn't work either. The old oven was also, even by bachelor standards, nasty. My new one works fine, but it has been accumulating grime. Not huge deposits, but certainly a noticeable amount of it. According to this old, rusted can, that my babymamma must have bought (in which case, it is at least nine years old), cleaning the oven will be easy.

Easy like this?

The directions for use say I'm supposed to wear rubber gloves. Hmmm. Looks like Tina musta taken those with her. Ah, here's one. No mate, but no matter. Now, let's get to work.

Well, that doesn't look that good. And it wasn't even easy. Guess I shoulda used it eight years or so ago.

Vote for the Real Clinton.

Though I ran for the Statehouse in 2000, and I've been the past vice-chairman of the Jasper County Democrat Party, I'm not really a political guy, and I don't generally do political posts. The following presentation is inspired by Col's Monday Morning dance party. Even though I'm about a month late posting it, I thought the music was good and the video was funny, so, here you go:

Dr. Doolittle.

Daughter Caroline has had many pets over the years. Rat Reepacheep hangs with more traditional pet, Belle, in Caroline's room. Once upon a time, Caroline contemplated becoming a veterinarian. She's always loved animals. In Ridgeland, she used to find wounded animals and try to nurse them back to health. She found baby birds, mostly, but one time brought in a little bitty fruit bat. Creepy. Most of her patients didn't make it, but her heart was in the right place.

Caroline on Coraline.

I took my only little girl, Caroline, and her friend Amanda to see the new stop-action animated movie, Coraline, yesterday. Coraline and her family have moved away from their old home- from Coraline's friends- to a big, old, kinda dilapidated and kinda creepy old tri-plex. The other residents of the tri-plex are strange, and she's not wild about the place's omnipresent black cat. Coraline is visited by a boy named Wybie, who brings her a button-eyed doll that he finds at his grandmother's house. The doll looks exactly like Coraline (except for the button-eyes, of course). Coraline's bored. Coraline misses her friends back home. Coraline doesn't really like her new digs. Coraline's preoccupied parents don't have time for her. Her mom tells her to explore the big old house. She does. She finds a door to another world with "other mother" and "other father", people that look just like her parents, but with buttons for eyes. They fawn on her. They cook her good meals. It looks too good to be true. It is too good to be true. Way back in 1939, Dorothy taught us "there's no place like home", whether it's Kansas or a dilapidated old tri-plex, but getting back was no cake-walk. Visually, the movie was a treat. Coraline was fun to watch. Caroline on Coraline? "I liked it". 'Nuff said.
Friend Amanda and Caroline (right).

Manic Monday.

6:00- Go for a run.
6:30- Wake up a son.
"Just five more minutes, Dad?"
"All right. Five more minutes, Lad"
6:45- Hmmm. More than five minutes. These boys are cunning;
I don't hear the water running.
"I know you'd sleep another hour,
but you must get up, and get a shower".
7:00- Wake the other one.
"Get up, Child, it's time to learn".
"Why me, Dad? It's Tyler's turn".
"I know that, Taylor; he's already been".
"Oh. Can I sleep five more minutes, then?"
7:20- Get them fed.
"Cereal or toasted jelly bread?"
7:30- "Boys, brush your teeth; why aren't you dressed? Get out of bed!".
7:45- Off to school.
7:50- Darn slow driver, "Move it, fool!"
7:55- We've found our way.
But where are the cars? Oh, it's President's Day.

Still Monday, though:

R.I.P. Millard Fuller.

I'm a smart-ass, as you probably already know; consequently, when I saw the headline "Habitat Founder Recalled" my first reaction was, "Obviously, Millard was made by Chrysler". But it's not that kind of recall, and the founder of Habitat for Humanity deserves more than a bad pun to note his passing. Like God's best workers, Millard Fuller walked the walk. He didn't just talk about God's love, he did stuff to help poor people because that's what he thought God's love meant. Like every one of God's children, Millard had his faults, I'm told, but he wasn't some bloodless ghost preaching empty platitudes. By God- and for God- he did something. You know, maybe Millard was recalled by his maker, afterall.

Gran Torino.

I went to see the new Clint Eastwood flick, Gran Torino, last night in the Boro. I liked it a lot. Clint plays Walt Kowalski, a recently widowed Polish-American retired autoworker, living in a neighborhood whose complexion has changed dramatically over the years. Walt's a bitter old dude. He and his family are estranged. He and his Church are estranged. He and his neighborhood are estranged. Walt measures his world in "us versus them": he tells racists jokes; hisHmong neighbors are "gooks" or "slants"; a trio of African-American punks are "spooks"; Men who don't meet their manly duties are "pussies"; even Walt's friends are Irish "Micks" or Italian "Wops". Among (or, perhaps, in a nod to the predominant cultural group in the movie, I could say a Hmong) the conflicts wound through the movie were: would innocent neighbor teen Thao be co-opted into the Hmong gang? Would Walt go to confession? Would Walt and his family reconcile? Would Walt whip up on the gangs? Who would get Walt's highly coveted 1972 mint condition Gran Torino? Would Walt keep everybody off of his lawn?

I've enjoyed Clint over the years, and, in quality and thoughtfulness this one was up there with Unforgiven. I'd say Clint has evolved quite a bit over the years. There are still lots of bullets, but now being the dude with the "most powerful handgun in the world" doesn't make you the good guy. Walt's no pussy; he's proof that "real men" can find redemption.

Smooth Criminal, Two.

Got roll call tomorrow for the March term of Court. Many of my clients don't understand a lot, but all of 'em understand if you don't show up to Court and your name is called you get a Bench Warrant. A Bench Warrant is a "show cause" order the Judge issues for your arrest. If you're arrested on a Bench Warrant, you don't get out of jail until the Circuit Court judge lifts the BW. This can take awhile, because Colleton County only get a term of criminal circuit court every two months. Anyhow, the dude referenced in the article at left apparently didn't want to miss court, so he stole a car from the hospital and drove it to the courthouse. No bench warrant for him. The parking lot gets pretty full during court, so he parked it in the one space he could find: the Judge's space. Though my inclination is to say, "What a Maroon!", they still haven't caught the guy these several months later. Hmmm. Maybe the guy's not so stupid after all.

Why do they do it? Officer Krupke could tell you:

Too Good to Be True: Fat is Where It's At!

According to YahooNews,the fountain of youth is flowing with fudge and bacon. It appears that those few extra pounds that made you look older when you were younger, make you look younger when you're older. I still got a bet with my bro-heim to lose 20 pounds, and I'm still gonna try to run a marathon in '09; but maybe I won't quit icecream all the way...

The Giants.

The Lads and I have been reading the Book of Genesis lately. No, not a primer on an old Sega videogame system; the other Genesis. From the Bible? First book? No? Anyway, their is some really cool stuff in Genesis. Including this passage:

Genesis 6:4 (New International Version)

4 "The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown".

Or, if you'd rather, here's the King James:

Genesis 6:4 (King James Version)

4"There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown".

I try to sort through the stuff that seems to me to be instructive, but probably didn't really happen, from the stuff that may have actually happened. I've really never known what to do with the Nephilim: there doesn't seem to be any real instruction in their inclusion, but if the Nephilim actually existed, why don't we have any scientific proof of them?

'Course, maybe it was like the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, where they just store the artifacts away where nobody can find them. You remember Raiders of the Lost Ark, don't you? Well, here: let's melt some faces!



What the heck, I'll Google it. Maybe there are Giants out there.

Not these Giants.

These giants.

Ah, finally, the following video proves conclusively the existence of the Nephilim:

Brave New World.

I read in yesterday's paper that the woman who received a face transplant in Cleveland has been doing well. This news following the well-publicized birth of octuplets through in vitro fertilization to an unmarried woman who'd already had six children by the same process a few years earlier. Genetic engineering. Cloning. Face transplants. Steroids for strength in a jar. Just who do we think we are:



Oh. Right.

One Dead Chicken.

Slowly, and with great reluctance, I seem to be turning into a grown-up. Well, maybe that's pushing it. I'll say, at least, that I finally feed more people than feed me. When I was growing up in Tampa, I frequently had four meals a day: two or three at home, and one or two at the home of my second family, the Baggetts (I've mentioned them a few times, most recently in my Thanksgiving Florida Roadtrip). Mom worked until at least five every day, and we didn't usually eat until seven-thirty or eight. I've always loved food, and I was way hungry before then. Frandy Baggett taught elementary school- which I know is plenty of work- but she was home by mid-afternoon, so she usually had food on the table by five-thirty or so. Well, whenever they ate, I knew. They were unfailingly good Southern hosts, so they always offered me a plate. I wasn't as polite as they were, so I almost always accepted. Let me tell you, Frandy could cook! It wasn't fancy stuff, usually; it was just good Southern food: fried chicken, snap-beans, fried fish. Yum! There were three Baggett children to go with Frandy and (former FSU offensive guard) Leo Baggett so Mrs. Baggett already had to prepare a lot of food. I'm pretty sure there must have been times when a "No, thank you, Mrs. Baggett" would've been appreciated, but I don't remember ever being told there wasn't enough.

Though I've been divorced eight years now, my mother-in-law, Margie, always treated me well. I really could not have asked for better in-laws. For several years, we lived down the street from Tina's folks. "Marnie" as her in-laws and grandchildren called her, was also an excellent cook, and we availed ourselves of her hospitality on a right regular basis. She generally took our mooching in stride, too, but she'd raised all her kids already, and undoubtedly had earned a break. One day I wandered in to her kitchen and inquired, "Watcha havin' for dinner, Marnie?". She must have been struggling a bit that day, because she gave a classic response: "One dead chicken". Uh, maybe Tina'n I'll eat out tonight.

Fast forward a few years. The Lads have a lot of friends in the Boro that just pop in. Matt, Greg, Zach, Trenton, the Nicks, and a few others seem to know when I'm cooking. Last weekend the Lads had friend, Trenton, over. I roasted a chicken, cooked some rice, green beans, Grands biscuits. Zach, Matt and Greg show up. We're up to seven people to eat one dead chicken. "Watcha cookin' Mr. David?" Somehow, there was enough. Loaves and fishes, I guess. A little minor miracle to meet a requirement of basic Southern hospitality. Thanks, Frandy and Marnie, for teaching me this.

Dog Days.

Actually, it's been pretty cold of late. Still, the dogs, Bo and Brady, found a little time catch some rays.

The Hole Truth.

The Kids play rough.
Eventually got to fix this. We'll just cover it for now. Wanna see what I used?
Appropos, no?

25 Things.

Got a Facebook thing where you get tagged and are supposed to list 25 things about yourself. A little self-indulgent, perhaps, but since I've already done it, I figured I might as well post it. Might as well destroy the tiny bit of dignity I had left.

25 things.

1. When I was a lad, my pop always told me I was born next to a little Indian child in Billings, Montana. My birth certificate confirms only the Billings, Montana part.

2. Mostly, I love being a public defender. Mostly.

3. I ran for the South Carolina statehouse in 2000, and lost by 150 or so votes, out of about 15,000.

4. Being a dad is my favorite thing in the whole world. I've got four kids. Three boys and a girl, and my identical 13 yoa twins live with me.

5. I've read the Bible almost every night of my life since I was in fifth grade. I've probably read it though four or five times. I've read the Apocrypha twice.

6. I've probably broken six of the Ten Commandments, but I'm not telling which six.

7. My mom was a nun.

8. My dad was not a nun.

9. My brother is an amazing ultra-runner and a really good teacher and father.

10. I tried to write a novel once. It was truly awful.

11. I wrestled and played football in college. I was a decent football player, but a bad wrestler.

12. I'm really bad with money.

13. I never drink more than three drinks a day (but sometimes I pour 'em big).

14. I've lost a home to foreclosure.

15. As a public defender, I've never had a client convicted of murder after trial (4 and 0 here. 1 and 0 in Beaufort). That'll change eventually.

16. I washed out of Marine Officer Candidate School at age 27. I'm a lot of things, but not a Marine.

17. I've been on my church vestry twice, I've taught Sunday School, I've been a Cub Scout leader, I've served on a First Steps Board for Early Childhood Development, I've volunteered teaching a debate team for high school kids.

18. I've been divorced for eight years after being married for 14.

19. I was expelled from school in 6th and 7th grade, and cut school at least ten times a quarter in eighth grade.

20. I don't practice law in federal court; I hate business law and office practice, and mostly don't understand tax law.

21. Among the cases I've won on appeal was a Federal Court of Appeals case, Collins Holding Corporation v. Jasper County, which is a business licence tax case.

22. My favorite movie is "My Cousin Vinny".

23. My favorite song is "Copperhead Road".

24. I love to eat.

25. I hope to complete a marathon in 2009.

You want dignity? Here you go:

Fightin' the Man Smackdown: The Poll

Coupla songs; coupla movies. Vote early and often.

Fightin' the Man Smackdown: Part III

Here's a commercial that won't make the cut, but which I still liked. Here, Sprint, is a little more free advertizing. A reward for your ad agency's creativity:



Naruto and Jack Black together, Stickin' it to the Man:



Enough playing around. Bob Marley stuck it to the man with style. Thought about "I Shot the Sheriff", but ultimately, this is the right one, Baby:



Now, fightin' the power with Flava: