Giants by 23

I can't stop posting these.

Is it Sunday yet?

Because I hear there's a big game that day.

Sure I'm hip. Watch how I wipe baby puke off my chest.

Found via FARK, the Amazon "Car Lust" blog defends the minivan.

The minivan gets a bad rap in this country--it is almost universally reviled as a symbol of dweebish parenthood and mindless suburbia, a scarlet letter attached to soccer moms' chests...Okay, so minivans are universally scorned. But why? What are the minivan's crimes? The only crime I can see is that it's too good at its job.

Having lovingly imagined himself a premise with absolutely no basis in reality -- calling it a strawman would be an insult to straw -- the author mounts a spirited defense of a vehicle which, judging by Target parking lots everywhere, needs absolutely no defense at all.

In the minivan's intended market of families with children, there is no stigma attached to minivans whatsoever -- it's practically expected that you will add this exalted member of the family before your second child arrives. Every option from the navigation system to the number of cupholders are discussed by bragging fathers who embrace the minivan with no less reverence than they would their bachelor muscle car. Mothers pore over safety ratings, making sure all their friends know that not even a speeding locomotive could harm their little miracles. I have three close friends in the "Odyssey Club" and have been mocked for not buying a minivan.

"Universally scorned?" Only in the author's hometown of DesperateForABlogPostville.

I've taken my share of shots at minivans as totems of the suburban wasteland, but we still considered buying one, because the family is only getting bigger from here. After all, I'm sarcastic and desperate for jokes -- not a moron.

We've rejected the minivan not to maintain our mythical hipster cred, but because we're frugal, and it would be silly for us to spend a premium of thousands a year in sticker price, insurance and gas mileage on a vehicle we'd truly need a few times a year.

Note that even Amazon's blog author, needing a rationale for minivan ownership, only comes up with "road trips." For us, that's why Hertz exists; spend hundreds a year renting a utilitarian second vehicle when we want it, instead of thousands a year watching it depreciate. It's one thing for two-income families or the ever-more-mythical "family of five," (more power to them) but for us? I'll watch my bank account grow along with the kids, thanks.


It's probably more accurate (but so much less conducive to writing a blog post) to say that the minivan is used by the childless as shorthand, a symbol of all the other reasons they mock people with kids.

Having been one of those mockers, and now as a daddy for almost nine months, I can say without a doubt that I was right then and I'm right now. Those childless folks should mock us. Even parents like my wife and I, who consciously reject the child-worshipping modern parenting culture of materialism and mindless catering to the little snowflakes, act like complete dopes in public and private on a daily basis.

I can't believe our unmarried/childless friends will still talk to us and the minivan owners are suspicious, wondering if our pre-parenthood brain chip implants were successful. We'll just have to put up with the funny looks from both groups.

Why I'll still be eating sushi

TIME: The Danger of Not Eating Tuna

The EPA's limit is the acceptable limit of safety, which includes a 10-fold safety factor. That's not a risk level. That's the accepted safety level [0.1 mcg of mercury per kg of body weight per day]. That's 10 times lower than where the EPA determined that risk was occurring — which is a prudent safety limit to be certain that there is no risk. So, for example, if six pieces of tuna sushi a week would put you at the limit, that means you would have to eat 60 pieces to get to the level where the EPA determined risk is occurring.

Also, it's important to note that the EPA set its safety limit based on the potential risks to infants and newborns, not based on the effects in adults.

Theo, from this morning. Just posted it for a friend and figured WTF not post it here too...

"Elderly actor/politicians don't pick trophy wives without a plan, son."

Now that Fred Thompson has dropped out, I just had a great idea ... when/if Hillary wins, can she appoint Jeri Thompson "First Lady?"

BTW: I've been looking for an excuse to mangle that movie quote on the blog for MONTHS. Ruth and I have joked that Thompson would be running away with the nomination if he'd just spend less time talking about his conservative credentials and Reaganesque viewpoint; instead, he should've showed up at campaign rallies, said "This is my wife. If elected, I promise to have her standing in front of me at all public events." Then he says, "Russians don't take a dump without a plan," gets back on the bus and heads for the next stop. LANDSLIDE victory, guaranteed.

And really, would that strategy be any sillier than what any other candidate is doing?

More advertising

Budweiser's commercials are now bragging that they have bottlecaps that keep air out of the bottle.

Coming up next: "Budweiser's exclusive beer-containing glass will keep our beer from spilling out of the case and soaking the inside of your refrigerator!"

"I'm comin' for YOU!"

Playoff football note

From a KSK comment thread...

"Dan Dierdorf gives big stupid people a bad name..."

Couldn't say it any better.

Why my wife rocks

Heard tonight during the playoff game, which has forced us to see advertising.

TV Ad: "...because T.G.I.Friday's gets ahold of your appetite and it isn't letting go."

My lovely wife: "What, so it's like a rabid dog?"

Movie note

I'm pretty sure everyone who would read the site has seen this movie, but it is one of my favorites of recent years so I'll mention this landmark achievement...

My father can probably count on one hand the number of feature-length Hollywood films he has sat through since the Reagan administration. During our Christmas visit, he not only belly laughed near-continuously at The 40 Year-Old Virgin, he was planted to his seat for at least the first 85-90% of the film. I can't think of a stronger recommendation for ANY movie, ever.

I can't even blame him for leaving the TV room at that point, because that's the entire FUNNY part of the film, before the required Hollywood heart-warmingness at the end, and before the musical number. Even someone like me, with a love of all things surreal, found that kinda ... WTF-ish. Hilarious, but still...

You'd think....

Given my cynicism about presidential politics, you'd think I'd know this:

"...in the past 150 years, Franklin Roosevelt, Lyndon Johnson and Jimmy Carter (barely) are the only Democrats to achieve 50 percent of the popular vote."

George F. Will -- A GOP Numbers Crunch

This rings true

When it comes to analyzing the Iraq naval incidents, these are the sorts of people we should be listening to, not media or political types.

UPDATE: When I mentioned "The Filipino Monkey" to my wife, she just laughed.

It wouldn't have been the dumbest thing that ever took us from cold war to shooting war, but it would come close...

To the EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEME

I once thought that between Vanilla Ice and the Itchy & Scratchy & Poochie episode of The Simpsons, there were no longer any valid non-ironic uses of the word "extreme." However, I'm more than willing to make an exception to that rule for the craft brewing industry.

I already linked to Brookston Beer Bulletin in the "What I'm reading now" sidebar discussing this NYT story on extreme microbrews, but I decided to also post directly to the Times article -- it's that good.

Not only are Dogfish Head 90-minute and Lagunitas Maximus two of my fave beers, it's great to see a mainstream outlet like the NYT continuing to discuss craft beers and treat them with the same respect as other premium food and drink.

On a related homebrewing side note: A couple months ago I brewed the Hop Head Double IPA kit from Midwest Homebrew Supplies, and to my not-so-refined palate, it's nearly as good as DFH 90-minute, my fave of the "Extreme IPA" variety.

Today's daddy tip

Every "new parents book" out there advises parents to "narrate" their day with their babies -- "Now Daddy is putting away the groceries," "Now Daddy is warming up your bottle," "Now Daddy is wiping your dirty ass," stuff like that.

Supposedly the purpose of this exercise is to develop the baby's language skills -- but as every stay-at-home parent knows, you're actually driven to recite every mundane detail of your day because you run out of anything new to say to the kid about 72 hours after you bring them home from the hospital.

To make sure he hears lots of voices despite the lack of witty repartee around here, I stream NPR and the BBC whenever we're in the kitchen. So I'm sure his first words will be "I'm Theodore, with these news headlines," in a British accent.

But what to do when you're ready to shoot the computer rather than listen to one more second of "Why Hillary won New Hampshire: A full hour of theories yanked from some reporter's butt?"

You could go back to just recording the day's events in your overenthusiastic "Talking to the baby" voice. This strategy has unfortunate side-effects, like the near certainty that you'll forget where you're at, and start talking to other adults in the same voice. "Are we gonna approve my mortgage? Of course we are! That's a good little banker!" If you're lucky, you only get a few strange looks, rather than charges filed against you.

So my strategy for mixing things up -- impersonations. Folks my age already resort to reciting favorite lines from TV shows when we run out of anything original to talk about -- I'm just giving the kid an early start. Even if you're lousy at impersonations, you can't be any more annoying than that Caliendo guy that FOX was trying to talk me into finding funny last year.

Babies love singing, so give them a little Sinatra or Elvis. My favorite right now is Robert Goulet (RIP). Although I don't remember when I actually last heard Goulet sing, so I'm probably impersonating Will Ferrell impersonating Robert Goulet. But as long as the kid is smiling, I figure I'm good.

I have a kitchen full of dirty dishes, so I'll just wrap up with a video of Phil Hartman doing Sinatra, and we'll all just pretend this wasn't bourbon-fueled stream-of-consciousness and I had a real ending to this post hidden somewhere...

Coincidences...

Why would I post the video of a Men at Work song from 1983?

Yesterday (or was it the day before)? I heard this song during a transition between segments on some NPR show that I had streaming for background noise while I bottled. Normally I wouldn't even remember a 10 second song snippet, but then...

Today, prompted by an email from James pointing out a Patton Oswalt article in The Onion, I was catching up with P.O.'s blog ... where I find a reference to this song in an entry from last June.

As coincidences go, this one is so utterly random that I can't get it out of my head.

Why would Men at Work pop up in my life twice in 24 hours ... and why the same 25-year-old Men at Work song?

Maybe God's "shuffle" command is as broken as the randomizer in iTunes?

Maybe I could stop asking questions and fix my kid his lunch?

Awk-waaaaard

While bottling beer this afternoon, the doorbell rang. I expected a friend who just came back from Iraq to stop by and meet Theo, so imagine my surprise to find two well-dressed young men on the front steps.

Noting that they wore nametags that read "LATTER-SOMETHING" and "Elder Somename," I was not surprised to find out they were in the neighborhood talking to folks about Jesus Christ.

I have a lot of respect for LDS missionaries. These are virtual kids, far from home, knocking on the doors of strangers day in/day out, and they're expected to bring people into their church. It's gotta be rough. I also figure that given all that, if I ever start a business I'm populating my sales staff with post-mission Mormons, but that's another discussion.

So any other day I might have invited them in to get off their feet for a few minutes and have a glass of water, but today I already had beer in the bottling bucket collecting germs; plus, any afternoon project is timed against the nap clock in Theo's head.

So I told them, truthfully, I was "in the middle of something." When he asked about my relationship with Jesus, I told him I keep my own counsel about my faith, but I had a lot of respect for them, and good luck.

As I was accepting a business card, I heard Theo cry once or twice in the monitor. Thank goodness, it didn't last; just his usual mid-nap wakeup. Heading back to the kitchen, wondered how long the young men had been on their mission as I resumed lining up my bottles.

That's when I realized I'd spent the entire conversation with a beer bottle in each hand.

Great move, waving my booze in the face of the Mormons. Maybe I should keep a bacon cheeseburger around for when the evangelical Jews show up next week.

Of course I'm not afraid I offended them; they've probably seen beer before, even if they don't drink it. But I shudder to think what they wrote in their report of the day...

"House 37: A shaggy-bearded hobo wearing dirty grey gym clothing answered the door with a beer in each hand. He was very polite to us, so we suspect he was inebriated. Not a good candidate for the church, but we should consider calling the authorities and at very least, pray for the baby we heard crying in the next room."

Homebrew diary: Oatmeal stout bottling

Finally got the oatmeal stout out of the secondary and into bottles today. Got about 43 bottles out of this batch, pretty close to my earlier batches.

Now we wait. I wasn't that happy with the flavor of the sample I tried, but I didn't like the earlier batches pre-carbonation, either, and those turned out OK.

Dear well wishers,

Tell me again how "We must be so glad your wife is in the Navy and not some other branch of the military."

Iranian speedboats menaced US navy vessels in Gulf

"Man Being Shot While Fleeing From Workplace."

The concern that employs my friend James has moved into a new office park. In exploring the grounds, James has found perhaps the most inane, uninviting "public space" ever, featuring an artwork that I can only describe as "mystifying," unless maybe there's a statue of a sniper on top of the neighboring building.

Drop by his blog and leave your own ideas for naming this atrocity.

Only funny if you know my family

Apparently, Letterman has recruited a lesser-known Indiana native to stand in on his show during the writer's strike.

Dad, I hope the dental work to put that gap in place wasn't too painful...

Now that we've seen this, I have to start wondering if my Dad without a beard would look like normal Letterman...

EDIT: By popular demand (on this blog, one reader is "popular demand"), a comparison photo...