A letter to my children

Good morning my loves. Today, this moment seemingly like so many others, will no doubt appear to you like all the days that have come before. You will wake and go about your day. You may laugh or you may cry. The sun may shine and rain may fall. But know that no matter how mundane, or how boring it may have seemed to you, today my sweets is a truly remarkable day.

When I was young, the events of days like today passed with little interest. I was far more concerned with how I would score my next Star Wars figure or what it would take to rescue a woman from a barrel throwing ape. As you are young, I imagine that today will be for you what it was for me in my bygone days of youth, just another day.

A man of amazing caliber, one that grew from meager and humble beginnings, will raise his hand and take an oath this day. This symbolic gesture is one that is partook upon entering office always associated with giving of oneself. Many years ago I too raised my hand and took an oath. This oath was the same one your grandfather and great-grandfather took before me. We each swore that we would protect and defend you and all those that you know, even though the joy of having you was not yet realized. But, this incredible man will take an oath that neither his father nor grandfather ever did, for he is the first to do so.

Your great-grandparents lived in a nation divided. Simple people, many with the same dreams, hopes, and desires, were forced to coexist not as equals, but as separates. Policies were dictated that prevented children not unlike you from playing with one another only because the color of their skin was different. Your grandparents were born during what would become the waning days of those egregious mandates. They lived to see civil rights born, but as you are now they saw it's birth through child's eyes.

I doubt that your great-grandparents had the foresight to look upon those moments of history and speak to their children as I do to you now. For them it was the status quo, what had always been. And as is often the case in periods of great transition, your grandparents lived as children in a world struggling to cast off the old and embrace the new. Try as many would, times were turbulent. The transformation from a world of separation to one of equality was difficult, and sadly for many it still is.

It can not be said that things are perfect now. There will always be those that disagree with what is. But your mother and I were fortunate to grow up in a time when the best amongst us believed that content of character meant far more than color of skin. Through the actions and deeds of those before us, this is what we were taught to believe and we hold that belief dearly. As does the man taking an oath on the Capitol steps.

Like many others, your mother and I did what we could to help to put him on those steps. While your grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins would say we were wrong or misguided in casting our faith in this man, we did so because we believed in him. We believed in his message, his words, thoughts and ideals. We believed that in him lay the best chance for our future and our nation's future. But, more importantly, we believed that in him lay the best chance for your future.

You see, my dearest children, today isn't just another day. This day, these fleeting moments, are of such a scope that it's ramifications will be felt throughout the world. Today you live in a world that is forever changed. Despite all the chaos and all the turmoil that takes place elsewhere even as I write these words, today is a better day.

But, as remarkable as it all is, as wonderful as today shall be, for you it will be little different. This is the world you will forever know. You will grow and dwell in a time when we the people finally saw past the folly of race. You will prosper in a world made better by this moment.

So, trouble yourself not with what goes on this day. Instead, laugh, smile, run, play, and learn. But know that the fact that you will likely look upon this day as if it were no different than the innumerable that will pass following it, that act brings me immeasurable joy.

yours truly

Too fat.

Too tired.

Too mean.

Too cynical.

Too hopeless.

Too opinionated.

That's me in a nutshell. And it's a bloody big nutshell.

Up, up. Down, down. Left, right. Left, right. B. A. Start.

As you can see, my boy Andre is back at it. This time he immortalizes the most infamous code ever (and one I given thought to having tattooed) (Don't judge me, I am that kind of geek.). It's been a while since I last mentioned Andre, an unforgivable transgression to be certain, but one I will not allow to slide any longer. Andre is a seriously funny mofo that I hope one day to meet and shoot. (Relax man, with a camera.)

Banging my head against the wall is counter productive

I have a bit of a conundrum going on. I know that there is an audience that would buy some of my prints, but I'm at a loss as to how best go about it. I know I need a dedicated website and I already have two great printing services that I use, but the how is the hard part. A good friend does hosting, and he'll get that business, but the storefront is kind of the question.




I would happily stick with my pro printer if I could guarantee the turnover necessary to to justify the extra expense (hosting requires either a 3-month minimum commitment at $40 a month or $0.20 per image). My everyday printer has a flat $100 a year but of course all of that is required in one shot. The $100 a year doesn't sound bad at face value, but why pay for hosting I may not use? There's a little difference between services and products offered to be considered.



Such is the pain in the ass I've been wresting with.

How to crash a blogging conference in one easy step

Step one:

Show up when you haven't registered with the full intention of holding up a sign during a friend's session that reads "SHOW UZ UR BEWBZ," and then run out of the room.

There is no step two.

Blissdom is happening in Nashville February 6th and 7th. Apparently mommies are attending to learn to attract more readers by flashing their fun bits be better bloggers or something like that. I can never tell with things like this since the topic lists always read like stereo instructions written in Slavic.

Women will descend upon Music City USA in droves to share stories about stretch marks and impotent incompetent husbands. Wine will flow like water. Bra straps will fly. Pudding will be used in ways it was never meant to be. There might be a kiddie pool involved. I imagine something like this:



Field trips will be taken:


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They have a cafe?!?

Food will be eaten:


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Cafe Loveless

Faux Greek monuments will be gazed upon:



Debauchery, pure and simple. Appropriate given that last bit there.

And there I'll be, documenting it through the lens. Heh heh heh. Purely for the sake of prosperity, unofficially of course. Blissdom seems to be anti-sausage unlike BlogHer which seems to LOVE and welcome the cock. And, let's face it, they're asking for an awful lot of money to attend this thing. So, if I just happen to have a room at the same hotel...

And I may have a trick or two up my sleeves. Nothing I dare divulge, but it'll either go over great, or go up in flames like the Hindenburg.

Testing that theory that hell hath no fury

How I managed to sneak in with the cool kids I'll never know, but today I am putting the bloggy goddess herself, Tanis (Attack Of The Redneck Mommy), over the pit. Chag was looking for volunteers originally to partake in this great experiment, but somehow the goddess herself ended up picking who would do the dirty deed.

So, yesterday part one hit teh interwebs spearheaded by none other than Mom-101, Motherhood Uncensored, and Her Bad Mother. Today, brings Tales From The Dadside, yours truly, and Undomestic Diva. The rear is being brought up by Chicky Chicky Baby, Temporarily Me, and Motherbumper. And then, on Thursday, Tanis gets her sweet revenge.

All I can say at this point is bring it on sweet cheeks. All the superfluous extra "u"s in the world can't save you. We've ripped you to shreds. Degraded you to the lowest point. You are left little more than a quivering mass huddled in the corner.


So why am I so worried?

Tanis? I lurve you. Really I do. Remember, I'm your manatee? Tanis? Tanis?

Damn, I am so boned.

So this is ought nine?

To call 2008 one giant, epic fraking fail just somehow doesn't cut it. The suckitude of the year that was is of such a monumental scale that I'm not going to give it the satisfaction of recapping it. If you've 'round these part before then you know, if not, the posts are there.

But, it's a new year. In theory, a new beginning. Clean slate.

I ain't buying it.

Oh nine is likely going to be just as bad, if not worse, than the year that preceded it. Already the list of woe is huge. Money, family, the boss' job and school, hockey, the kids, the continued separation. Calgon, take me the fuck away.

I could try to be optimistic, but it isn't in my nature. I am, at my core, an eternal pessimist. It's a strategy that has serve me well these 32 years, and I tend to stick with something when it works.

But I will admit that I am a little hopeful that things will be better and easier for those of us in the Casa de Gamingwithbaby clan. If for no other reason than if things get much better, everyone's going to be watching the trial of a thirtysomething manatee unfold on CNN.

I'll never let go, Jack. I promise.